Raineh Daze

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

I'll be posting here tomorrow.

The Nameless City — Invite Only!

Tachibana Hibiki

"Um, well... a Symphogear is powered by music and it's like a karaoke machine... I can't control how loud it is," Hibiki answered, momentarily taken aback by encountering people who thought that the music was anything special... or at least that she had any control over it. The song just came from within her and the Symphogear produced the music itself. There wasn't any sort of volume dial... at least not as far as she knew.

Of course, once she realised that the street below looked about right, Hibiki wasted no time in jumping straight down from their current comparatively-elevated perch to in front of one of the bestial hunters... taken aback by the appearance, but he was speaking something understandable. That meant that they could communicate, right?

"We're trying to rescue a girl! Can you help?"

Chronicles of a Lost War

Efander Amdel

With the men now cleared out--which was a strange thing to care about, and as a lifelong traveller, Efander normally wouldn't have cared for who was around... albeit that would no doubt be more problematic going fourth--the sage wasted no time in completely removing her oversized robes. The material was good, and if there had been one unnecessary thing sealed away with him, it was extra materials. The need for clothing repairs was almost constant, after all...

Heedless of whether Sylphie had in fact left or not, Efander's hands blurred into action, pleased at least by one change: some of the fine needlework seemed a lot easier now, and her eyes were better at focusing on the close stitching. Ah, to be able to enjoy youth once again--though hopefully not this much youth for too long; it would be terrible if she didn't grow properly into adulthood once again.

With her modifications complete, Efander turned her attention to the all important last step: self-observation. It was all well and good speed-tailoring and demonstrating some capability as a cobbler, too, but what good was it if you couldn't check how good it was? Fortunately, this was a good opportunity to check that her abilities hadn't been damaged in some way. Focus on water, colour the mana... and start rubbing a wall really fast.

The stone now gleaming a mirrored shine, the white-haired sage inspected herself in its damp surface as much as possible. A bit more adjustment to the sizes once she had a proper mirror on hand, perhaps? The sleeves were quite loose. But the outfit was, dare she say it, cute, and calling back on the last time she had allowed her hair to grow to such a length, tied it out of the way. Which left...

Ah, those eyes. Of course, Sylphie was to blame.

Dodging the rock that had chosen that moment to fall from the season, the sage turned and ran after the others, wanting to catch up. What was the sense in splitting up and going it alone so soon after waking?

Chronicles of a Lost War

Esfander Amdel

The look on the martial artist's face was a pretty deadpan one, golden eyes staring at the other two, then back down at the robe to make sure that this wasn't a temporary mistake. Esfander took one deep breath, sighing, "Good grief.

"Well, I should have known something like this was inevitable," she said, recovering adeptly and standing up... annoyingly coming to the conclusion that Sylphie was slightly taller. What a frustrating reversal of their previous meetings, and more importantly a limitation on her martial capabilities until she had fully adjusted to the shorter reach. Though most individuals would probably fail at even cutting her should they hit, as it wasn't like her magical capacity felt in any way diminished. Not that she wanted to test this by taking the magus on her offer. "True, I should perhaps avoid calling anyone young lady now... but the habits of a lifetime die hard."

Stroking a beard that no longer existed, the robe-wearing girl looked at the open door, then at the others, "Mr. Cauna, Mr. Aerarius, Mr. Ghundrach... I feel I may need to undress and fix my clothing somewhat. 'Twould be much appreciated if you leave first?"

Chronicles of a Lost War

Efander Amdel

Really, it was a pain that they had been sealed away in stone coffins, with no sort of padding or the like. Surely with all the effort that had gone into arranging magic circle upon magic circle to create a proper stasis (and not just the three truly magical of their group sitting and playing cards until the time came) it would have been possible to get some cushioning in these things? Efander was an old man, even if remarkably spry and supposedly sealed unchanging, and waking up with a stiff back...

The good news was that waking up felt better than ever: no aches or pains, a back without any sign of stiffness whatsoever... ready and raring to go. Even the coffin seemed a lot roomier, who knew such a long nap would do such wonders for the body? Ah, everyone was starting to be noisy, it was definitely time to wake up.

With a heave, yet another of the heavy stone lids was pushed out of the way, and as expected a head of snowy white hair sat up from it with a yawn, giving a morose look at Izel. "We just woke up and you're already starting on the young lady..."

This, of course, really drew Efander's attention to her little incident. Her voice was too high, the hair was much silkier, there was none of the muscle she had worked hard to keep... and her robes, extravagant as they were, were starting to slip down her much smaller shoulders quite noticeably. Aaaah, this would call for some emergency tailoring...

Chronicles of a Lost War

‡ Name: The Great Sage of the Elements, Living Magic Circle, Origin of the Arcane Fist, Efander Amdel. Of course, she looks more like an Effie than an Efander...

‡ Appearance: "Ugh... I didn't look like this before stasis..." Although the eye colour would normally suggest some association with the divine, Efander is more or less a normal human for the most part.

† Age: 313, regardless of looking 9.

† Race: Human

† Abilities: The reason for Efander's many titles are quite simple and come down to a single crippling flaw: they still are, and always have been, laughably and dangerously incompetent at the acts of casting a spell or creating a magical circle, with even the simplest of illusions literally exploding in their face when it looks like something might be about to succeed. On almost anyone else such a hazardous limitation would have meant a lifetime well away from magic and its intricacies. Except... their internal capacity for magic screams something inhuman, and their talent for drawing in external magic--normally nothing that would pass through a person except as an "ignition" step--is uncanny.
Naturally, they tried to work out how to most practically put all this capacity and the ability to draw in more to use. It took a lot of trial and error, and Efander was an old man before it was truly completed, but it became an entirely new (albeit often impractical) approach to unarmed combat. The basics are simply the controlled release of mana as a "push", either to strike faster or more often to simply make a light tap strike like a thunderous blow. Sufficient practice allows for a reflexive release as a form of negating blows, or adding elemental effects rather than sheer force.
The true peak of this style is Efander's "living magic circle"; through sufficient awareness of one's own mana and its flows, harmonise the internal and external sources, and become a living magical circle... fight as long as needed without running dry; expel more with each blow, harden and heal the body. True unconscious mastery and constant renewal is a source of constant good health and longevity, keeping your body exactly as it was and in its peak.
Of course, constantly absorbing ambient mana may have its downsides, especially when in stasis and in close proximity to some highly unusual individuals... aside from the obvious, this strange absorption has given Efander a minor level of superhuman strength. That is, all the physical strength of your average, reasonably-strong labourer. It's still supernatural in this state.
Finally, if bad luck can be considered to be an ability, Efander has it in spades. A natural-born mage that can't cast a single spell; the founder of a style and wanderer who can never keep a house for more than a few days; the traveller who always gets caught in a landslide. Time and time again, if something could go wrong, it has gone wrong.

‡ Skills: Obviously, developing a method of magical unarmed combat would be completely useless if you didn't, in fact, have any unarmed skills--and Efander is nothing if not good at their own style. Naturally, it's focused entirely on precise touches and graceful movements rather than, well... actually doing any damage. If the magical attacks don't do anything, maybe magical bursts into pressure points will. And, of course, as a lifelong traveller, such useful skills as cooking, camping, and making and repairing clothes became quite useful. That last one even more than expected.

‡ Personality: Calm, serene, adept at taking things in stride... because after multiple lifetimes of everything going wrong at every opportunity, you have to take it in stride or go completely insane. With the benefit that as an old sage with a calm demeanour, you can equally dispense wisdom as you see fit or just offer snarky commentary on everything. Not that Efander was your regular old master--sitting waiting for people to come for tutelage, or just staying put in general, isn't in their blood; they've always been an unashamed meddler. Need someone to help with some construction work? Combat master or not, they'll help. A child lost out of the village? Efander will go look. Bandits in the area? Go and give them a talking to, then break out the violence. If bad luck is half the reason Efander could never earn enough money to settle down, refusing rewards or giving them to people who needed it is the other half.
Their attitude is that fighting is a last resort... as exciting as it is, jumping straight to killing people isn't the best solution to problems. Even if they may have earned it, you might want to know what the living person knows. Not that getting to show off the rewards of a lifetime of practice isn't fun, but fighting for real is a serious matter.

‡ History: Originally, Efander was definitely male, a young man struggling to find his place in the world--living in the big city, applying himself to trying to learn any magical art whatsoever. Everything indicated that he had the ability, so why could he not learn a simple skill? He was forced to cut his studies short after one attempt at making a light started a conflagration that burned down the house he was staying in. Nobody else was injured--the main injuries were from his making sure other people got out--but it forced him to re-evaluate.
It was whilst recuperating from his burns that he started to learn some martial arts from soldiers, though was again frustrated that because of the injuries, his strength was simply insufficient to win any bout with the style they were teaching. He couldn't use enhancement spells despite the magic, so what was there to do...? This idea, and some early success with proving the ideas was possible, set Efander to practising for life. By the time he felt that he had really mastered it, he was a frail man in his eighties... though soon the recovery effect at least eliminated the "frail" part.
Wanting to leave something behind, he attempted to save, both from what was left of his travels and time training--working small jobs here and there--and dealing with minor threats to villages on the borders. Efander opened a school, got a few students... and it was crushed whilst empty when part of the cliff it was beside collapsed. Undeterred, he opened a second school, which was destroyed by an earthquake.
Getting the hint, he turned to being a mysterious teacher in the remote wilds. Sitting still for that long got boring, and he was so remote that nobody came to be a pupil. So Efander went back to what he knew best: being a lone traveller, dealing with problems along the way, and in this manner teaching bits here and there. This intermittent tutelage spread the knowledge of the Arcane Fist, and his continued longevity earned fame. There was war, and monsters, but nothing massive enough to force his involvement or shake this lifestyle.
Until there was, of course. At first, Efander tried to stay out of it, but the harm the Volstanian Empire was causing was too much, and despite being relatively unsuited for working in a military environment, nor with what one would consider the appropriate temperament for it, he joined the alliance's forces. When it came time to seal away future heroes, how could one not choose the old sage?
Naturally, even sitting patiently in stasis can't go right with this sort of luck. Even discounting the overshoot in time, Efander's absorption of the ambient mana was as natural as breathing, and still active whilst his body was already frozen... and added to the ambience was a heavy sort of radiance from a certain vengeful demigoddess and something stranger from the Grand Magus... needless to say, she's going to be quite exasperated about the change from a refined, regal old man.

‡ Other:

Chronicles of a Lost War

‡ Name: The Great Sage of the Elements, Living Magic Circle, Origin of the Arcane Fist, Efander Amdel. Of course, she looks more like an Effie than an Efander...

‡ Appearance: "Ugh... I didn't look like this before stasis..." Although the eye colour would normally suggest some association with the divine, Efander is more or less a normal human for the most part.

† Age: 313, regardless of looking 9.

† Race: Human

† Abilities: The reason for Efander's many titles are quite simple and come down to a single crippling flaw: they still are, and always have been, laughably and dangerously incompetent at the acts of casting a spell or creating a magical circle, with even the simplest of illusions literally exploding in their face when it looks like something might be about to succeed. On almost anyone else such a hazardous limitation would have meant a lifetime well away from magic and its intricacies. Except... their internal capacity for magic screams something inhuman, and their talent for drawing in external magic--normally nothing that would pass through a person except as an "ignition" step--is uncanny.
Naturally, they tried to work out how to most practically put all this capacity and the ability to draw in more to use. It took a lot of trial and error, and Efander was an old man before it was truly completed, but it became an entirely new (albeit often impractical) approach to unarmed combat. The basics are simply the controlled release of mana as a "push", either to strike faster or more often to simply make a light tap strike like a thunderous blow. Sufficient practice allows for a reflexive release as a form of negating blows, or adding elemental effects rather than sheer force.
The true peak of this style is Efander's "living magic circle"; through sufficient awareness of one's own mana and its flows, harmonise the internal and external sources, and become a living magical circle... fight as long as needed without running dry; expel more with each blow, harden and heal the body. True unconscious mastery and constant renewal is a source of constant good health and longevity, keeping your body exactly as it was and in its peak.
Of course, constantly absorbing ambient mana may have its downsides, especially when in stasis and in close proximity to some highly unusual individuals... aside from the obvious, this strange absorption has given Efander a minor level of superhuman strength. That is, all the physical strength of your average, reasonably-strong labourer. It's still supernatural in this state.
Finally, if bad luck can be considered to be an ability, Efander has it in spades. A natural-born mage that can't cast a single spell; the founder of a style and wanderer who can never keep a house for more than a few days; the traveller who always gets caught in a landslide. Time and time again, if something could go wrong, it has gone wrong.

‡ Skills: Obviously, developing a method of magical unarmed combat would be completely useless if you didn't, in fact, have any unarmed skills--and Efander is nothing if not good at their own style. Naturally, it's focused entirely on precise touches and graceful movements rather than, well... actually doing any damage. If the magical attacks don't do anything, maybe magical bursts into pressure points will. And, of course, as a lifelong traveller, such useful skills as cooking, camping, and making and repairing clothes became quite useful. That last one even more than expected.

‡ Personality: Calm, serene, adept at taking things in stride... because after multiple lifetimes of everything going wrong at every opportunity, you have to take it in stride or go completely insane. With the benefit that as an old sage with a calm demeanour, you can equally dispense wisdom as you see fit or just offer snarky commentary on everything. Not that Efander was your regular old master--sitting waiting for people to come for tutelage, or just staying put in general, isn't in their blood; they've always been an unashamed meddler. Need someone to help with some construction work? Combat master or not, they'll help. A child lost out of the village? Efander will go look. Bandits in the area? Go and give them a talking to, then break out the violence. If bad luck is half the reason Efander could never earn enough money to settle down, refusing rewards or giving them to people who needed it is the other half.
Their attitude is that fighting is a last resort... as exciting as it is, jumping straight to killing people isn't the best solution to problems. Even if they may have earned it, you might want to know what the living person knows. Not that getting to show off the rewards of a lifetime of practice isn't fun, but fighting for real is a serious matter.

‡ History: Originally, Efander was definitely male, a young man struggling to find his place in the world--living in the big city, applying himself to trying to learn any magical art whatsoever. Everything indicated that he had the ability, so why could he not learn a simple skill? He was forced to cut his studies short after one attempt at making a light started a conflagration that burned down the house he was staying in. Nobody else was injured--the main injuries were from his making sure other people got out--but it forced him to re-evaluate.
It was whilst recuperating from his burns that he started to learn some martial arts from soldiers, though was again frustrated that because of the injuries, his strength was simply insufficient to win any bout with the style they were teaching. He couldn't use enhancement spells despite the magic, so what was there to do...? This idea, and some early success with proving the ideas was possible, set Efander to practising for life. By the time he felt that he had really mastered it, he was a frail man in his eighties... though soon the recovery effect at least eliminated the "frail" part.
Wanting to leave something behind, he attempted to save, both from what was left of his travels and time training--working small jobs here and there--and dealing with minor threats to villages on the borders. Efander opened a school, got a few students... and it was crushed whilst empty when part of the cliff it was beside collapsed. Undeterred, he opened a second school, which was destroyed by an earthquake.
Getting the hint, he turned to being a mysterious teacher in the remote wilds. Sitting still for that long got boring, and he was so remote that nobody came to be a pupil. So Efander went back to what he knew best: being a lone traveller, dealing with problems along the way, and in this manner teaching bits here and there. This intermittent tutelage spread the knowledge of the Arcane Fist, and his continued longevity earned fame. There was war, and monsters, but nothing massive enough to force his involvement or shake this lifestyle.
Until there was, of course. At first, Efander tried to stay out of it, but the harm the Volstanian Empire was causing was too much, and despite being relatively unsuited for working in a military environment, nor with what one would consider the appropriate temperament for it, he joined the alliance's forces. When it came time to seal away future heroes, how could one not choose the old sage?
Naturally, even sitting patiently in stasis can't go right with this sort of luck. Even discounting the overshoot in time, Efander's absorption of the ambient mana was as natural as breathing, and still active whilst his body was already frozen... and added to the ambience was a heavy sort of radiance from a certain vengeful demigoddess and something stranger from the Grand Magus... needless to say, she's going to be quite exasperated about the change from a refined, regal old man.

‡ Other:

Chronicles of a Lost War

I HAVE AN IDEA.

Albeit

I need to find a picture.

Fate/Scarlet Babylon

Okay, I think every finished bio is accepted.

Though, CL

Her family made a deal to marry her and her great circuits off, at least in exchange for a financial loan to keep them afloat. Safe to say, since then that loan has been called in sooner than expected, and as a result chained this smaller family to the Sorensen Family’s oversight and control.

Please rewrite that. Who married who off for what loan that got called in by who and what family is pulled in to be involved in this how? <_>

The Nameless City — Invite Only!

Tachibana Hibiki

Unsurprisingly, even with the warning of caution, Hibiki was the first one through the door and into the "pleasant" Yharnam evening, looking around in confusion at the architectural sprawl around her. Not being built carefully was one thing but even from what they could see here was... confusing. It looked like an old city, but the streets were at all sorts of levels, and there were walkways criss-crossing and streets twisting...?

The schoolgirl actually seemed to look around in confusion as the others came through, looking for the source of blood and even briefly looking down to make sure it wasn't the obvious based on her prior experiences--something stabbing her, for instance. Hibiki's eyes locked onto the eyeless sockets of the man below, widening as they took in the crows. Even if it was too late to do anything, she couldn't just sit by and let this happen, and if there were more around--

"Balwisyall nescell Gungnir tron."

The incomprehensible chant triggered something, a bright sphere of light that lasted but a second, despite unmaking all of her clothes and remaking them into a semi-magical weapons system. This was by far the less strange thing that the others had to contend with now that Hibiki's Symphogear was activated: instead, the constant music now playing, complete with Hibiki's singing...

... and the first of the crows disappeared, the jumping kick slamming into it hard enough to crack the stones below and leaving nothing but a pile of blood and feathers. Ah, she was going to have to hold back here, with the old architecture and many platforms, going all-out would probably start collapsing things.