Psyker Landshark

Iris Ascendis

Iraleth Kyrios

Iraleth barely protested or responded as she was helped up by the other two girls, though she did offer a weak nod as thanks. As for what was going on...she didn't approve. Not entirely, at least. But at least the Strigdae concocting this grandiose lie was doing it for seemingly good reasons. There'd been enough pointless violence enacted today among what were supposed to be each other's peers. If this chicanery would cut down on it, she could live with that.

As Otis went on and on, Iraleth focused on maintaining the illusion of strength, standing straight and with her sword planted into the stage's floorboards. Being able to use her sword as a crutch was the only thing keeping her standing at this point, though she put all of her effort into not betraying her exhaustion or lingering pain.

The same feeling of intrusion into her mind from earlier returned, but outside of the heat of battle, Iraleth could more clearly understand what was going on this time. Mind-linking magics. Useful. Very useful. She would have put more thought into the matter, but something else caught her full attention just then.

Valen Leuvalt. An apparent scion of Nero's family, who claimed to also have the dream of resurrecting the Wings of Nero. Would that have been all, Iraleth would have thought much more highly of the boy. But then he revealed that he was nothing more than another arrogant princeling. Worse yet, one with power, just like Bronsteel before him. Iraleth didn't bother hiding the look of contempt on her face as she beheld Valen simply lounging around on a golden throne.

This was the most recent legacy of the Leuvalts? Not the Star Sorcerer, who gave up everything for the sake of the world? Not vaunted Nero, whose cause she wanted nothing more than to bring back? Instead, they had an arrogant, grasping boy looking down at everyone like they were trash. Record damn him, if Iraleth had even an ounce of strength, she'd challenge him right here and now, everything else be damned. Everything about Valen was a threat to Nero's legacy, especially if he managed to actually rally support behind himself, doubtful as it was with his odious attitude.

Iraleth's sheer contempt for him echoed across the mind link before she realized what she was doing and caught herself, suppressing her emotions behind iron will. Instead, she forced herself to look back down at the clamouring crowd of hopefuls that decided to beg and plead. In their place, even though none of her talents or abilities exactly related to crafting a seat of some kind, she would have at least tried. Jamming two planks of wood into a larger one wasn't exactly the hardest thing in the world.

The shadow witch asked for those with virtuous hearts. Iraleth could see where this was going. They'd all claim such, barring a select few that were likely closer to the truth than they believed. She looked down at the crowd with a stoic gaze, putting as much effort as she dared into raising her voice enough to be heard.

"Frankly, I'd rather you make an effort at what was asked. Begging is beneath you. All of you. Do you want to have managed admission to Wingram on your knees, or would you rather earn your place?" Hopefully, that would galvanize at least some of them. If nothing would, then they were beyond help.

The Lion's Banner: A Fire Emblem-Inspired Anime Fantasy RP

Kayliss Lambert

Kayliss didn't know what she had been expecting, really. From her read on Lady Velvetica, doing something like ordering Sir Istvan's permanent silencing would have been wildly out of character. That didn't mean she wasn't at least a little disappointed that the lady wasn't offering any real solutions for the moment, but it was only to be expected.

"I understand." She bowed her head for a moment before looking back up at her employer. "I left the matter open-ended with Sir Istvan, but I directed the conversation in a direction that more or less implied the same as what you currently say." Kayliss's stare was blank as usual.

"Will there be anything else, my lady? Forgive my saying, but you've not exactly been making much use of me outside of the battlefield. So long as you work in service of the Crown, you continue to retain access to a resource that many nobles would literally kill to possess." She betrayed no hesitation in referring to herself as a mere tool. Evidently, Crownsblade indoctrination was extensive.

"I remain at your disposal rather than at the king's direct command for a reason."

@VitaVitaAR

Iris Ascendis

@Nanaya

Real quick, would Iraleth know if Valen is who he says he is? As in, did the Leuvalt family have descendants up to the present day?

Augmented Machine Mobile Armor: A Gundam and Armored Core-inspired Mecha RP

Banshee

The rest of the squad were...a mixed bag, at best. Only one other pilot that bothered with any sort of comms etiquette. Probably former military, like her. The rest obviously weren't. At least everyone managed to neatly fit themselves into team compositions, though the one piece of obvious new meat had Ariela rolling her eyes. Fucking figures they'd get saddled with some wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn that couldn't even work the comlink correctly. To say nothing of her callsign. God damned mercs.

VALKYRIE proved herself as indispensible as ever in providing information that everyone already knew, only just now forwarding a squad setup that mirrored exactly what they had chosen already. Great. Real cutting-edge piece of tech. Still, one thing crossed her mind in which the fucking AI could actually contribute for once.

<<"VALKYRIE, request. Make yourself useful and set up two sub-channels in the comm-net and place our squads one in each. Less hassle if we can keep channels clearer during combat.">> With that said, she didn't bother waiting for an affirmative, instead finishing final preparations to deploy.

Main system online.
All systems nominal.
Activating combat mode.

The order to launch came.

<<"Pilot Banshee, AUG LINEBREAKER. Deploying.">> A slight grin crossed Ariela's face as the catapult rocketed her off, following after Redknight's MORDRED. Her armor crashed into their landing zone, and it rose, rifles already primed and raised as Banshee checked their surroundings. No immediate contacts yet. Good.

<<"Landing zone clear!">> She cried over the full team's comms, already checking the current topographical data and communications sensors. <<"Everyone ready to die? If the opfor's not sleeping on the job, they'll notice us soon enough. Let's form up and move, no slacking!">>

Iris Ascendis

I probably won't post twice this round, but assume Iraleth takes the hand she's offered.

Iris Ascendis

Iraleth Kyrios

In her exhausted, heavily wounded state, Iraleth barely noticed the bullet fly past her. The result of its impact, however, was far more evident. Darkness fully engulfing the auditorium. Bronsteel trapped, panicking soundlessly. In its place, the sound of mannequins shattering. For a moment, a thought pierced through the haze of Iraleth's weary mind: was this Umbralism? Had she made a mistake working with this shadow witch?

Her father had brought up the differences between simple use of darkness Essence and full on Umbral abominations. Despite everything that was happening around her, Iraleth felt no sensation of utter malice. No wrongness that had accompanied the cultists who burned down the orphanage. She would let it slide for the moment, then. Whatever was happening, it was so obvious that if this was an Umbralist, whoever was overseeing procedures here had to have noticed by now and taken action accordingly. And Iraleth doubted the High Bishop had selected the incompetent to shepherd his dream.

Something shattered, and Iraleth heard Bronsteel's screams and pleads once more. Evidently, he'd fallen from the auditorium stage somehow. Good. She hadn't yet worked out how she was going to have made it up there anyway. What elven blood flowed through Iraleth's veins afforded her limited sight in the darkness, and she could barely make out the outline of the privileged brat flailing about. It would be amusing, if she had any capacity to feel something that wasn't related to achieving her goal. One foot in front of the other.

Iraleth flipped her sword around to hold it by the hilt in a reverse grip, and closed the last bit of distance. One of Gulliver's punches actually landed against her face, but it was so pathetic that any potential pain didn't even register with her. Her right hand slammed the pommel of her sword into Bronsteel's gut, causing him to double over. Her left snapped out in a sharp hook to his jaw. Even in her wretched state, she still had enough presence of mind to pull the punch, such that he was only knocked unconscious instead of killed by a plated fist. It might have been her addled mind simply playing tricks on her, but Iraleth could swear she saw a tooth fly loose. Or perhaps not.

Regardless, she stared down at Bronsteel's unconscious form for a long moment, her limbs still twitching occasionally. A glance around the rest of the auditorium. Their battle had destroyed a significant amount of seats. She couldn't help but wince. If the faculty held the seating clause to be literal, Bronsteel might just get what he wanted in terms of limiting the amount of students. Iraleth didn't bother trying to vocalize any of this. She doubted she had the energy right this moment. Instead, she slumped up against the stage and practically collapsed into a sitting position, her sword planted into the floor next to her. Just a brief rest. She could afford that now that the threat was taken care of. There was still time before the deadline, right?

Iris Ascendis

Gonna shit up a post in a bit

Augmented Machine Mobile Armor: A Gundam and Armored Core-inspired Mecha RP

Banshee

Even after all these years, freedom still tasted like smoke and ash. Tar in her mouth. In other words, absolute garbage.

Ariela sighed, exhaling a cloud of vapor within LINEBREAKER's cockpit as she took her e-cig out of her mouth. Fuck, but she really needed to get her hands on a flavor of vape juice that wasn't tobacco. Supply lines on Bifrost were such shit. Problems for later. For now, they were about to combat drop.

She quickly went over the briefing in her head again. Corp on corp violence, with the only specific caveat outside of wanton destruction being retrieving whatever they were working on here. Suited her just fine. Of course, it'd be nice if they had anything besides a goddamn AI as mission control, but considering EINHERJAR was just sticking a bunch of mercs that had never spoken to each other before together, it was the safe option. Ariela still would've liked to be able to mute that fucking AI, though.

Some other excitable young girl that wasn't the robot brain seemed just as exuberant, and Ariela resisted the urge to mute incoming comms once again. Merc life was such a pain in the ass, sometimes. Meet random pilots who you might never speak to again, instead of forming actual units that knew how to work together? God, she missed the old days. Fucking chickenshit politicians and bureaucrats just had to ruin a good thing, didn't they?

<<"This is Banshee, reading you five by five. LINEBREAKER's prepped and ready to launch.">> Ariela flicked her comms on while going over preflight checks one last time. Everything across the board was still green. Ready to go.

<<"Squad, query: we figure out who's going on what team yet, or is the AI handling that one? Much as I'd like to bust some heads, my AUG's better suited for a fast hit and run on their comms.">> She tucked her e-cig into her flight suit's pocket, awaiting an answer. At the very least, she'd be able to feel out the rest of the squad as best she could before shit hit the fan.

@VitaVitaAR

Iris Ascendis

Iraleth Kyrios

For a moment, Iraleth could only feel satisfaction at the Bronsteel boy's utter panic as she ripped his duplicate out of the Foreteller's chest. Both of them crashed onto the ground, Iraleth landing in a crouch. And then the exhaustion came. In an instant, the Inheritor's armor faded away, leaving only a glowering half-elf gasping for breath, still carrying a sword. And then the lightning came.

"GRAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGH!" Iraleth howled, collapsing to the ground and twitching as lightning coursed through her. The blast only clipped her side for an instant, but it felt like hours as she writhed in pain. Several seconds passed, and she grit her teeth, even as electricity continued to course through her nerves. This wouldn't be what laid her low. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Even without the aid of her Ethos, Iraleth slowly pushed herself up to her feet, planting her sword into the floor as a crutch. Through the entire aftershock of the lightning blast, she hadn't let go of her one lifeline. She would not lose her sword. She would not bend. She would not break. Through ragged breaths and twitching limbs, Iraleth rose, glaring daggers at Gulliver up on the stage. The paladin planted one foot in front of her other, residual sparks still dancing across her plate armor. By any sane metric, the distance between herself and the stage wasn't so great. For someone who'd just been hit by a full strength blast of lightning? It was agony. But she would endure.

Iraleth never broke her gaze with Gulliver as she continued to stagger towards the stage, sword in one hand and her fist clenched in the other. Even if it was the last thing she did today, she was going to punch him in the face.

Iris Ascendis

If the wording didn't make it clear, her Ethos is gonna crap out next round.