Psyker Landshark

Pokemon: Ascendancy

Fiona MacConnell

Morning had brought a hangover with it, but that wasn't exactly something Fiona was unfamiliar with. Coffee, breakfast, and aspirin helped her feel like a human being again by the time the message to meet at Hyacinth Tower, which she responded to with a groan.

"Och, ye've gotta be fuckin' me..." Fiona planted her head onto her kitchen table in resignation. She already hadn't exactly been looking forward to doing the opening ceremony hung over, but considering that was how she'd done it two years in a row already, that was to be expected at this point. Her phone pinged again at that moment, and she lifted her head slightly to stare at the news alert that said opening ceremony had been cancelled.

Only an idiot wouldn't have been able to connect the dots. Whatever the Chairman wanted now, it was important enough to cancel the entire ceremony for. That was...almost unheard of, really. Great. Just great. That meant she actually had to attend this meeting instead of skipping out. With another irritated groan, Fiona forced herself out of her seat and started trudging across her house towards the addition she affectionately referred to as the Birdcage.

Functionally, it was a large second building she'd had built attached to her existing house to contain all her Pokemon in. As befitting housing for Flying types, there were multiple exits built into the roof for her Pokemon to fly in and out of as they saw fit, allowing them to go out hunting in the nearby woods for food should they wish it. Fortunately, it seemed that whatever hunting any of her Pokemon did had already been finished by the time she walked in, as her entire lineup was gathered around the massive 4k TV installed on the far wall. It seemed that the League opening cancellation had already made the morning news.

"Gooood morning, motherfuckers!" Fiona shouted out, her assorted Flying-types turning to her with cries and greetings. "Well, looks like ye've all seen th' headlines. Bad news is, I'm gettin' called into th' office. Whatever this shite is, it's probably important. So looks like we're gonna go wit' a full team." She fished out six empty Pokeballs, gesturing towards her main team. "Aye, pile in. Except fer..." Fiona looked her squad over, trying to decide who she wanted as her ride to Wyndon today. Well, she only really had three choices that could bear a human, and one of them wasn't on her primary team. "Raptor got two turns last night, so yer up, Felon."

The Salamence nodded and roared as the remaining five members of Fiona's team were sucked into their balls, lowering his body to allow Fiona to clamber on. "Right, we're off. Rest of ya got free reign about tha house." With that, the remainder of Fiona's menagerie started to separate, some staying to watch more television while others flew off themselves. With a pat of Felon's neck, they were off.

___

At the meeting, once the news broke, Fiona leaned back in her admittedly very comfy seat with a groan. What a goddamn shitshow this was.

"Gonna play Darkrai's advocate here fer a sec, bossman. Yer absolutely sure Ryker got his arse kidnapped? He don't just have a messy apartment an' he stepped out fer a bit? Because, every offense intended to 'em, I'm surprised some of yer assistants're able tae dress themselves in th' morning." She popped open a water bottle and took a few swigs before continuing.

"That bein' said, if th' coppers're sure, what's yer plan? Please tell me it doesn't involve us spinnin' our wheels here, dicks in our hands doin' nothing."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

A pathetic end to a pathetic foe. As the last bandit before him fell, Renar straightened up, catching his breath as he surveyed the field. Captain Fanilly's orders rang out, and the Bastard of Brias simply nodded to himself before starting to do as he was bid, nonchalantly thrusting the tip of his poleaxe into the chests and throats of already dying men. Some pleaded. Others cried. Not a few soiled themselves before their lives ended.

Renar regarded all of these men dispassionately. Would it be him in their position one day? Perhaps. But that didn't mean he was going to look at these bandits with anything resembling sympathy. What point would there be to feeling such for men who raised swords against him with no remorse? No, there'd be far more corpses in his wake until he achieved his dreams. And likely after, as well. If he mourned them all, he'd go insane.

The cloaked knight trudged past the green boy and the bard without a word. Storm hadn't been slain on his first outing, eh? Perhaps he'd make something of himself yet, though until he did, there was little point in acknowledging him. The ad-hoc interrogation did give Renar an idea or two, however. The next bandit he came across at least faced the end bravely, bitterly chuckling despite bleeding out. Beyond saving, to be certain, but still possessing his wits. Perfect for what Renar intended.

"Took a bit of a bad turn, have we?" Renar squatted down next to the man, planting his poleaxe in the dirt. "Unfortunate wound, that. You'd have half an hour left, at best." He said truthfully.

"Aye, perhaps I do." The dying bandit nodded. "What's it to you, Sir Knight? Taking the time to mock me?"

"Hardly." Renar shook his helm, reaching to his belt to unhook something. "The way I see it, you were sent out here to die. Hell, you've already given your life. So you owe nothing left. Here's my offer:" He proffered a wineskin to the man.

"May as well meet the end with a good drink in your belly. I offer you a sip now, and the entire skin once you tell us as much as you can of your former fellows' defenses."

The bandit stared hard at Renar for a moment before nodding. "The sip first. Then you take me to that squealing girl you call a captain." Renar nodded in return, lifting the wineskin up to the man's lips for a moment before withdrawing it. He'd need help getting the man over. No sense leaving his weapon behind.

"Sir Fionn," Renar called over towards the closest knight that was actually known to him. "Help me drag this one back over towards the Knight-Captain before he bleeds out. It seems he's willing to talk."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

As his companions bickered over the fate of the thrall, Dragan murmured quietly in prayer. The familiar practice, in life and in death, centered him. Ichor saw fit to reverse his fate after what should have been his true death, and for that, he would be forever grateful. To say nothing of his centuries of service in her name already, of course. As the vampire lord finished his prayer, a sensation bid him to look up.

A red light came from the doorway leading to the cathedral yard's balcony. A sign of the Goddess's favor, perhaps? Dragan stood, placing his helm back onto his head as he looked to Ilena and Luna.

"Enough." His voice rumbled as he gestured up towards the balcony door. "I agree with Ilena. For leal service, we ought to reward the thrall with the fate she wishes for herself. Should she want to continue to serve, we will allow it. Should she desire the peace of the grave, we ought to allow her to make that choice." He stared Luna down unflinchingly. Of course the bloody siren would choose to be obstinate now and disregard a loyal servant's choices for her own wants.

"In the meantime, it seems we are beckoned. Join me if you wish, or continue to debate over the thrall." With his piece said, Dragan leapt up toward the balcony, extending a hand to crack the door open and see what the source of the crimson glow was.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

If it were anyone else, Renar would have already given a smart comment or two about the foolishness of rushing ahead and then staying dug in, all for one old wretch already bleeding out. Unfortunately, the one who committed to this nonsense was his commander, so he bit his tongue and swung his head up, hearing the rustling of leaves and branches breaking. Up in the trees, then. Someone clearly thought too highly of their own planning, if this was the best the bandits had.

The problem with falling down onto one's foe was that one only had a single vector of attack. In other words, they were predictable. As the bandits began to fall, Renar looked straight up, determining which one was aimed for himself. A particularly large one, clutching some oversized cleaver of a sword. With a casual, almost lazy cadence, Renar simply sidestepped out of the shadow that was quickly descending towards him. The bandit crashed to the ground, his telegraphed strike completely missing, and the hammer head of Renar's poleaxe came swinging for his skull, smashing the man's brains in.

Renar huffed quietly in disgust at how easy the kill was, already twirling his weapon around into a ready stance as two more bandits charged him at once. They weren't in sync, and the one on the left outpaced his compatriot, hoping to score a blow on this knight. He was only clutching a hand axe. Another easy kill. Renar slid into a short serpent guard and simply lunged forward with the spear point of his weapon, completely outranging the bandit and plunging the tip into his belly.

The bandit on the left fell and Renar yanked his poleaxe out, leaving him to writhe on the ground as he screamed in agony from his belly wound. Even as the knight turned to face the one on the right, he already knew that the bandit was getting closer than was optimal, and he didn't quite have the time to shift his grip for another attack. That was fine.

Instead, Renar caught the bandit's blade at an angle with the haft of his poleaxe and twisted, yanking the crude sword out of the man's grip. Before the bandit could recover, the knight jammed the spiked butt end of his weapon into his foe's throat.

With the immediate threat to his life taken care of, Renar took a moment to raise a sabaton and stomp down onto the windpipe of the bandit that had already been dying of a belly wound, granting him the mercy of a quicker death. His cloak whirled around him as he turned, facing yet more bandits.

"Elegance?" Renar scoffed in response to Serenity as he swung for a brigand's legs, hooking his ankle with the axe head and tripping him, which sent him crashing to the dirt before the spear tip plunged into his chest. "We're in the midst of battle, not a tea party. Though at this rate, the latter would be more exciting than this fodder."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

They'd managed to retreat in good order, and now found themselves on far safer ground. He'd been here before, of course. Centuries ago, back when he'd first explored the world as a fledgling vampire. And now he returned once again, no more powerful than he was when it all began. Full circle. At least he could begin to remedy that in part now. Dragan took a single vial of blood, and with very great reluctance, only a single vial. It wouldn't do to leave any more vampires starving should they make it to the cathedral, of course. He doubted the three here would be the only ones called.

Dragan uncorked the vial and sipped slowly, relishing the taste of fresh vitae after so long in torpor. He could feel a small measure of his strength returning to him. Not nearly enough, of course. But anything was better than nothing. When the vial was drained, he set it down and looked to Luna and Ilena, pondering the situation before them.

"The thrall will likely awaken on her own in time. I don't much care to interfere with another kindred's servant. Some don't take kindly to such, and it would be poor manners after they so generously provided us with fresh blood. In any case, I believe we ought to give thanks to Ichor for our deliverance, before anything else." With that said, Dragan faced the image of the goddess and knelt down, murmuring a prayer under his breath. It seemed old habits died hard for a former paladin.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

Renar let the byplay between Dame Serenity, Sir Fionn, and the archers pass over him without comment, not seeing any particular need to interject in that conversation. Besides, it seemed the Knight-Captain was finally doling out orders. A standard encirclement tactic, as was expected, considering her last move. Still, there were prisoners to save, he supposed. No time to come up with something more inspired or unique.

As the knights advanced, Renar noticed the obstacle ahead almost immediately, and just as quickly recognized that it was an obvious trap. What he somehow failed to recognize, however, was that their captain would suddenly decided to run forward and leave herself vulnerable to it. For a moment, he was more disappointed in himself for not realizing that this would be Fanilly's exact move than he was in her actually falling for this trick. Of course an inexperienced, impulsive sixteen year old would take the bait immediately out of a misguided sense of compassion.

"Oh, dear." Renar sighed, twirling his poleaxe down into a ready position as he stalked forward, following after Serenity, Gerard, and Fionn. He kept his gaze towards the trees as he reached his compatriots, taking his weapon up into both hands as he took up a defensive stance next to Serenity.

"Knight-Captain, with all due respect, we're about to be surrounded any moment now." Renar chided gently. "Us four will provide cover and clear a path for you to bring that man back to be questioned. Dame Serenity, it seems our comrades plan to do the clearing. Shall we ensure the captain isn't sniped by a stray arrow?" He didn't have a shield like Serenity did, but his cloak would at least provide some measure of deflection so long as he could see where the bandits would be firing from.

Pokemon: Ascendancy

Fiona MacConnell

Mentions: Sebastien @King Cosmos

"Booooooo!" Fiona heckled Ryker's speech as he finished, starting to feel a buzz after a whole bottle and another cocktail on top. "Fuckin' lame! Where's tha trash talk? At least insult our mothers fer th' hell of it!" She shook her head, giving Ryker a slow mock clap.

"Barkeep, hit me again! Gimme uh...let's go wit' a Long Island, yeah?" The bartender dutifully stirred the drink together and handed it off to Fiona, who knocked back several swigs and drained it halfway before setting the tall glass down for the moment. "Ahh, now that's tha good shite. Let's see..." She looked around, trying to determine who to talk to next. Someone she already knew, or someone more unfamiliar? Well, hell, Fiona was familiar with most of the current Gym Leaders on some level or another already, considering they were around last year. Still, there was a new guy, wasn't there?

A glance around the bar revealed the relatively unfamiliar face in question. Right, the Water-type guy. What was his name? Fuck if she knew, really. Still, might as well strike up some sort of conversation. She got out of her seat, sauntering down the bar until she reached Sebastien.

"Oi, new lad!" Fiona casually leaned against the bar next to where he was seated. "Welcome tae tha madhouse. Ignore everything Hestia says when she gets bitchy an' ye'll be fine. Also, she's bitchy all th' fuckin' time." She chuckled before examining him more closely, squinting her eyes in slight recognition.

"Wait, haven't ye passed through my Gym th' last two years?" Fiona laughed, giving Sebastien a friendly clap on the back. "Congratulations, then! Ya made it! Here's to ye, then." She raised her glass in salute.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

It seemed his hunch was wrong. The beast's defense was natural, and his magics weren't recovered enough to wear its body down. Unfortunate. More unfortunate was the fact that this single thought was all Dragan had time for before he was uncermoniously smashed into a mountain, crashing to the ground as he gasped in pain and lost his grip on the beast's back. He was so weak and starved as to not be able to react to such a move in time? How vexing. A creature such as this would have been nothing to any of the vampires present in their prime.

Of course, the more immediate concern was the pain in his chest and back. A cursory inspection revealed that his plate had dented inward on both sides, but was still usable for the immediate moment. Considering all the other damage it had suffered already, that was a miracle in itself. He'd have to find a competent smith as soon as possible once he made it out of here.

Dragan struggled to pull himself up to one knee, planting his blood rapier in the ground to brace himself. As Ilena made the call to leave, he couldn't help but agree with her, despite how much he hated the thought of simply fleeing this fight. As it stood, this was but a distraction to their main mission, and further conflict would gain them nothing.

As a result, Dragan didn't struggle when his compatriot's insect minions began to pick him up and drag him back towards the bridge, silently nodding his thanks in her direction.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Relationship shit:

Fanilly: Untested and unproven. Frankly, the only reason Renar doesn't actually disapprove of her is because he knows she didn't have a single choice in the matter. There's no point in hating someone for something that they didn't choose for themselves. Renar would be an utter hypocrite to do so otherwise. He's entirely willing to assist and guide her as best as he's able, because helping her means helping himself. The prestige of the Iron Rose would be damaged greatly by an incompetent captain, and thus would damage his own goals.

Tyaethe: The legends never mentioned that the most enduring symbol of the Iron Rose was also a shockingly lazy layabout. Still, if anyone's actually earned that privilege, Paladin Tyaethe certainly has. Renar will respect her skill if nothing else, and uses her as a metric to measure himself against. If he can manage to provide a challenge to her in one of their spars, then he could die happy regarding his skill.

Cecilia: Clearly knows what she's doing, given that she won her glory in the war. Even with her lack of discipline and work ethic, she gets results where it counts: on the battlefield. In short, she has Renar's appreciation, though she could stand to stop trying to pawn her work off on others. Unlike the First and Youngest, Cecilia can't get away with that shit by virtue of not having ungodly might.

Shanil: Renar can recognize that she bears some sort of grudge, and he respects that. After all, he's fueled by spite in part himself. Still, he knows that whatever past she certainly hasn't shared is likely tragic, and doesn't pry. Likely tries to train against her often enough, just to get in practice against magic wielders.

Gerard: A good man, especially with his low birth. Hell, Gerard is a more noble man than most bluebloods Renar is acquainted with. Many of the trueborn knights Renar knows are little more than killers and opportunists deluding themselves into a sense of superiority, but Gerard genuinely seeks to live up to the ideals of their shared station while also having seen the realities of the battlefield. And for that, he won't deride Gerard's idealism as he would to so many others. Being around a true idealist is a refreshing change of pace, and besides, it's nice to dream.

Lucas: Why is he even here? How did an untested boy somehow slip into the Iron Rose? Renar is not pleased that this boy rode the coattails of a better man straight into the same order that he had to slay an orc warchief all by his lonesome to receive an invitation to. The order is for knights that have proven themselves already, not green boys with potential. Until Lucas proves himself, Renar regards him as little more than a waste of the Iron Rose's collective time and resources.

Fionn: A fine man of true faith and a finer veteran of war. As with Gerard, Renar appreciates those who have seen the worst life has to offer while remaining decent people, because he certainly can't manage such himself. Good company as well, though Renar has a hell of a time keeping an eye on the man to make sure he hasn't wasted his stipend, or goddesses forbid, lost it again.

Fleuri: The Flower of the North is a man who's lived the life Renar wishes he had. Or until he threw it all away, that is. The Iron Rose is but a stepping stone to Renar's goals, and yet the man who already had all the glory, recognition, and honors Renar wanted traded all that just to serve. Unlike with his commoner training partners, Renar just can't understand this one. Mostly because those two still managed to advance their lot in life, which is something he understands, despite being good men. Someone just discarding all that is completely alien to him.

Serenity: Renar knows when he's being used. In this instance, he doesn't really care. She can see his entire bag of tricks if she wants, he's improving as well by facing someone with incredibly solid fundamentals and technique. Serenity is fine company and a finer training partner, keeping him on his toes and offering decent conversation with an acerbic wit. Of course, he can tell she has some sort of grudge against Fanilly going, and it's piqued his curiosity.

Morianne: A complete bitch, yes. But Renar's learned to more or less tune it out unless she actually has some valid criticism for once. Still, he understands a cynic, being one himself, and agrees with her more often than he should. Unless it pertains to him. But even then, there's still something useful to be gleaned.

Katerina: Neutral to affable. Decent companionship, and certainly a very good cook. Renar makes a point of staying on her good side, if only so she doesn't tamper with any meal she serves to him.

Hope: If he wanted to help people directly, he should have stayed in the capital. In Renar's opinion, Hope's talents, while certainly appreciated, are wasted as a knight. The man would do more of the good he sought by continuing to heal the sick and feed the hungry than killing what the crown bid them to. Also doesn't appreciate him being a mother hen. Renar can take care of himself, thank you very much. He always has.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

This was a rare day indeed, for an otherwise peaceful era. The Iron Rose, assembled in force over a hundred strong. All this, for some admittedly-competent remnant forces. How Renar wished he'd actually been on the field to help crush their original armies but five years ago. Damn his old master for refusing to abandon his post to join the fight. Still, it served him little to dwell on that grudge overlong. Renar had won glory regardless, and now he stood as a knight of the Iron Rose.

The strategy their new captain had devised was certainly simple, to be sure. But that in itself wasn't a sin. Years of experience in the field had taught Renar that complex strategems were all well and good until the plan didn't survive contact with the enemy. Then everyone's time was outright wasted. It was still too early to judge their incumbent commander, and would be for some time. One battle alone wouldn't be enough to tell whether or not Knight-Captain Fanilly lived up to the expectations placed upon her, or crumbled under the weight. So for now, he'd support her and follow orders as best as he could.

After all, it was in his best interest that she turned out to be successful. Perhaps the girl would require a bit of prodding and assistance, given the truth behind some of Serenity's derisive comments about her in private company, but that was acceptable. Though Renar had his own doubts about selecting an otherwise untested maid as the leader of the greatest knightly order in the realm, she was at least given the finest training, education, and armament they had available. The order had survived this long with the tradition in place, so something had to be going right with the process. Or at least not catastrophically wrong.

Renar easily dismounted his steed when the order was given, slipping his helmet on before brushing his trophy cloak behind him. The Iron Roses' resident summoner made his presence known while the Bastard of Brias made some final checks on his equipment, making sure his armor and weapons were fit for battle. The straps on his plate were tight, and his armament was sharp and oiled. Perfect.

With his preparations done, he hefted his trusty poleaxe onto his shoulder and awaited further orders when suddenly the knight next to him spoke. Hah. Speaking of judging the Knight-Captain...

"Well, Dame Serenity," Renar responded in turn, not facing his conversation partner either. "A crown would be somewhat more presumptuous towards our sovereign than an orc's cloak. Should I manage to slay our quarry tonight, I suppose I'll have to settle for public acknowledgement of the deed from dozens upon dozens of hardened soldiers. That being said," His voice directed towards the knight opposite Serenity at his side in the line.

"What of you, Sir Fionn? Care to try for a war trophy of your own? Should you not care for a crown either, there's always the man's weapon."