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Current Welcome to Lemons' fourth year on RPGuild. PRAISE BE!
1 yr ago
They will look for him from the white tower...but he will not return, from mountains or from sea...
1 yr ago
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1 yr ago
Thirty four.
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2 yrs ago
Never eat the lemons alone. My friend? He at the lemons alone. I had to put him down once he started to salivate.


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Sorry it's so short; just wanted to get something written, ya diggity?



Etoile had been a fighter long enough to know that if someone screamed in a somewhat-panicked voice at you to get out of the way, no matter how little you knew them, you got out of the way. And that's exactly what she did, throwing herself into a tight roll and hearing, rather than seeing, a volley of spikes launching themselves into the tree where she'd been standing a moment ago. She winced at the twinge in her leg, but ignored it; it wasn't important where dying was concerned. Ripping her sword out of the sheath with a metallic screech, she placed her hand on it: "Gladius ventus." The rush of power out of her was comforting after the antimagic field, and the heatwave-esque aura in front of her sword confirmed that she was back in form.

As she ran at the beast, she threw her hand out, motioning at the ground beneath her. "Densus ventus!" A staircase-like platform folded into existence and she dashed up it, leaping off and reaching the apex of her jump about six feet above the beast. She pointed her hand at it, palm out, and smiled jaggedly as the staircase dissolved behind her. There we go.

"Impulsus ventus!"

The blast of wind that emerged from her certainly staggered the creature, that was certain. Unfortunately, it had been long enough since she'd had to use Impulsus at such high power, and she'd forgotten the other component of it. She surged upwards, finding herself nearly twenty feet off the ground. She quickly dropped the aura from her sword and funneled the aether around her into another Densus, only barely managing to catch herself before she plummeted to earth. She let out the breath that she'd been holding and took a moment to collect herself.
I am in precisely the same boat; school starting, business. Hopefully I'll settle in to a proper rhythm soon and get back to posting.
Lemons back, yo.



Without a reply—barring the full-body tensing that Etoile had become so familiar with in her own life—the taller woman took off after the stupid blonde jackass. For once, Etoile could agree with someone; she had no idea what the kid was doing, going off on his own like that in a forest with a known murderer who was capable of controlling the wildlife. She was tempted to ask what he was thinking, but then realized: In all likelihood, he isn't thinking at all..

She wasn't quite as fast as she might've been with an uninjured leg and functional arm, but she could keep up passably, at least. It took her some time to catch up, and by the time she reached the other woman, a small grouping had formed, composed of the woman, the kid, the redhead—Arghh, who IS that?—and other man who she hadn't seen before. As she watched and listened to what she assumed the ending part of his speech, she felt a chill run down her spine. She hadn't seen a malum in quite a while, and she always forgot how uncomfortable they made her.

Despite that, as soon as she approached them proper, she felt a weight in her chest that she hadn't realized was there disappear, and more importantly, a sudden jolt of pain as the magitech arm reconnected with her nerves, regaining functionality. She sighed out a heavy breath of relief as she joined the group. From what she could gather, they were having a little strategy meeting, going over their capabilities. Another rush of relief, this one internal. Finally, a beat she could really dance to. She might've been out of practice, but she hoped not too much.

That said, she didn't want to advertise her past too much, unlike the blonde. So the first thing she said upon rejoining the group, flexing her arm to make sure it was working properly, was a short little bit-out couple sentences.

"Classically trained ventus, specifically scholaris, with a study focus on force projection, be it precise or general, and object manifestation. Adequate at swordplay, but not surpassing at it."

Then she abruptly shut her mouth, starting to think about their composition. Crystal-based terra, sun-based ignis, sword-based fulgur. I don't know enough about the malum to guess his specialization. Sword-based fulgur isn't going to be particularly useful outside of direct combat applications, so we know that. It might be wise to start building a strategy around that. She said the crystal could coat skin and solid objects, but she didn't mention projecting it into projectiles, so it mightn't be too useful for direct offense; perhaps more of a combat support application in general. The crystal would be useful for frontline protection if it can be used to make sufficient amounts of armor, though I don't know the extent of its capabilities. Solaris pallio seems versatile, so he could fulfill multiple combat roles, but as with the terra, I don't know enough about it to adequately gauge him. Also, she thought sourly, I don't know how much I would trust him in a fight.

Her mind continued chugging through the possibilities, and she turned to the terra woman to ask about the limitations on her crystals before suddenly realizing something: If we don't have anything to call each other in combat, things could go very wrong very quickly through lack of communication.

"This is all well and good, but if we're going into combat, we should know what to call each other." She took care not to sound too imperious; she already looked like an Inquisitor, there was no need to act like one as well. She dipped into a traditional Iquenos bow. "Etoile."
I'm in a similar boat as tundra; I posted fairly recently, so I want to hold off on posting more.

Also, unrelated, I will be without internet for the entire month of July, so don't expect too much from me.
Not at all.

Mal growled faintly at Flick. "To hell with being sneaky, I'm hungry. Too hungry for this shit." And with brief prelude, totally ignoring the principles of intelligence, she dug her fingers into a bag's tense, plasticky skin and ripped the whole thing open.

The smell was heavenly. She thought she might faint as she looked down at piles of food that looked—to her eyes, at least—and smelled perfectly good. Sure, there were some fragments of broken ceramic and glass here, a bent fork or a blunted knife there, and a mass of unpleasant-smelling black pulp that she would later find out were coffee grounds, but most of it was Right there, behind that restaurant, she abandoned all pretense of civility or restraint and began shoveling food straight from the bag into her mouth.

Oh my God this is the best thing I have ever put into my mouth. That wasn't really saying much, as other than the past few days of raw food and poorly-cooked rodent, her only sustenance had been the tasteless mush that Chimera had served, but still. Best thing she'd ever eaten in her entire life, and there was SO MUCH OF IT in front of her. She really didn't care about the fact that she looked pretty grotesque. That was rather low on her list, compared to the particularly nice food she was piling into her face. Biscuits and gravy, she would've discovered had she looked at the menu, was her current casualty. Sausages, pancakes, waffles, nothing was safe from her ravenous maw. She tried her best to keep most of the food off of her face, but she still looked like there was a little something (a lot of something) on her lips.

All of that happened over the span of only a few seconds, interestingly enough. And at the end of those few seconds was when the metal door in front of her clicked open and she looked up, startled, only to meet the surprised, then vindictive, face of a man who was holding another of the great big black goodie bags.

"Yo!" he shouted, advancing on the quintet of kids, "the fuck do you think you're doin'?"
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