Alright, eh-heh. Yeah, having that after my latest post didn't make much sense chronologically. ^^;
VitaVitaAR
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King of Knights
STATUS: I think watching fight scenes can help in general terms with writing combat, since it can give you an idea of flow and choreography. 3 yrs ago
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I think watching fight scenes can help in general terms with writing combat, since it can give you an idea of flow and choreography.
3 yrs ago
At least if you're writing something you know, with knights.
3 yrs ago
I mean, depends on what you're writing, and the tone and theme of what you're writing. Trained armored knights were legitimately monstrous on the battlefield, so looking up how they fought helps.
4 yrs ago
As much as there's a lot of reasons twitter sucks, I genuinely don't want to see it die for the sake of all the artists who now rely on it. Hoping the shithead stops trying to directly administrate.
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4 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… If anyone's up for fighting some kaiju, why not try out my new RP, Godzilla: YATAGARUSU?
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I was confused for a moment but then I saw your status. Have fun in Britain!
I had fun when I was there for sure. ^^;
I had fun when I was there for sure. ^^;
So, made a huge edit to my latest IC post. Decided to not draw out the battle aftermath any longer and get us on-track to the next event.
Ah, I'm sorry to hear that.
Thankfully, the girl seemed like she'd be more or less okay, especially with the help of the oni. Good. ... Not that Irial cared too much or anything. She didn't want anyone to get sick, but it wasn't as if she cared too much about anyone! She didn't! With this thought firmly in mind, the short elven girl noticed that someone was calling to her. And... calling her 'magus' rather then actually referring to her by name. Hmph. If there'd been any other magi around, she would have just blown him off. The girl was quite proud of her name and family, after all.
In this case, however, she faced him. He was a human male, as far as the girl could tell, one she recalled seeing prior. She hadn't paid him much attention before this moment, however. She'd had better things to do.
"I have a name, you know. It's Irial, Irial Romyre," Irial protested, arms folded as she tucked her staff to the side, blue eyes narrowed as she spoke. "What, exactly, do you need?"
It better have been something that required magic. Irial was, well... even she'd admit her uselessness at physical tasks.
In this case, however, she faced him. He was a human male, as far as the girl could tell, one she recalled seeing prior. She hadn't paid him much attention before this moment, however. She'd had better things to do.
"I have a name, you know. It's Irial, Irial Romyre," Irial protested, arms folded as she tucked her staff to the side, blue eyes narrowed as she spoke. "What, exactly, do you need?"
It better have been something that required magic. Irial was, well... even she'd admit her uselessness at physical tasks.
"... Er..."
A snake? Irial didn't know anything about snakes, unless they were the spectral, summoned sort. She took a step back, raising her staff, but it seemed it was already being handled. Good. She didn't want to try and determine if it was poisonous or anything like that. She had no interest in doing anything of that sort. Her attention moved back to the wreck... and then to... a human girl? Yes, a girl who had been on board the ship... one who looked rather worse for wear. Jeez, why hadn't she made herself more noticeable before? She looked green in the face, blubbering and ill... she could have said something, seriously.
With a sigh, the small elf girl approached, frowning deeply.
"It would probably be best if you stopped squirming around," she said, "That can't make you feel any better. Er..."
Healing wasn't the small girl's specialty. However, she could guess at the fact that the larger girl should probably not be on her feet, and rather should be sitting in the shade until she recovered. After all, though Irial wouldn't admit it, seeing someone looking like that was rather concerning. She didn't want the other girl to get sick.
A snake? Irial didn't know anything about snakes, unless they were the spectral, summoned sort. She took a step back, raising her staff, but it seemed it was already being handled. Good. She didn't want to try and determine if it was poisonous or anything like that. She had no interest in doing anything of that sort. Her attention moved back to the wreck... and then to... a human girl? Yes, a girl who had been on board the ship... one who looked rather worse for wear. Jeez, why hadn't she made herself more noticeable before? She looked green in the face, blubbering and ill... she could have said something, seriously.
With a sigh, the small elf girl approached, frowning deeply.
"It would probably be best if you stopped squirming around," she said, "That can't make you feel any better. Er..."
Healing wasn't the small girl's specialty. However, she could guess at the fact that the larger girl should probably not be on her feet, and rather should be sitting in the shade until she recovered. After all, though Irial wouldn't admit it, seeing someone looking like that was rather concerning. She didn't want the other girl to get sick.
Fanilly's eyes traveled over the battlefield. There were injured, yes, but it looked as if it was nothing that would be too difficult to tend to, and on their return healers could finish the job if their injuries were too difficult to mend here. That was a relief, at least. As she awaited a report, she watched, surprised, as Sult dropped an icicle down the back of the unconscious Marianne's armor... and... well... it was kind of funny... The smallish girl forced herself not to laugh. That wasn't appropriate, at all, even if levity in the aftermath of a fight seemed like it may have been an asset.
She was surprised to see Tiral get to his feet, and force himself to give a report even though he was clearly feeling unwell due to the electrical shock he had suffered.
"Ah, Sir Tiral, you were among those who I didn't require to report, er..." she waved her hands. Fanilly hadn't meant for those whose conditions would make it difficult to make a report, at the very least. However, it seemed that hadn't stopped Tiral, even as she watched him slump on one knee.
"... Transporting the injured back is a necessity," she began, feeling somewhat foolish for stating such an obvious fact, "Prisoners are to have their hands bound and be transported in a single file line. Do not harm them, they are already facing punishment for harming the innocent. Causing them pain is pointless cruelty."
The return trip was rather uneventful. The prisoners were utterly crushed, defeated by the loss of so many and the slaying of their leader. Who could ever have prepared them for the Iron Roses? The injured were transported with care, thankfully there were very few with any serious injuries. But that was to be expected, really, as the Iron Roses were an order of legend.
Fanilly traveled at the head of the Knights, upon her white mare. The farmer who had been used as bait by the bandits seemed to be capable of making a full recovery. His injury had looked worse then it actually was, apparently, though it was still bad enough that, if they had not found him, he would have perished.
To the young captain, it felt entirely too long to reach their destination.
But it was dawn when they came upon their destination. The walls of the capital loomed ahead of them.
Aimlenn had been built long, long ago, construction having begun shortly after Thaln itself was founded. In spite of the country's embattled history, the capital had never wavered, never fallen. Its tall, strong walls held fast. Aimlenn, among the people, was known as the fortress-city, as the grey stone walls, ornately adorned with symbols of Thaln, were a sight known far and wide across the land.
The immense steel and wood gate stood before them. In this time of peace, it remained open, and Fanilly led her knights through it.
The streets bustled with activity, merchants transporting goods, citizens going about their business, and as they headed in further, nobility and the rich with their entourages of guards, maids, and manservants walking the street. What was universal to all these people is the glance they cast up as the Iron Roses entered. Many, especially the average citizens, looked on in awe as the knights of legend proceeded in, taking with them what could only be those bandits who had hurt and killed so many.
The guards, many of them soldiers of Thaln, cast dark glares towards the prisoners.
Fanilly did her best not to react to any of it. Even when it was looks of awe, she was Captain of the Iron Roses. She could not let anything distract her from her duty.
The stone fortress that was home to Aimlenn's garrison and prison soon received the bandits. Their fate was essentially sealed, an execution would greet them. Barring some sort of sudden reprieve(which seemed highly unlikely, to say the least), they were set to die for their murders and thefts.
But Fanilly did not remain there. Instead, she lead her knights further down the winding streets.
The Iron Rose Knights were based near the Royal Family's castle. It was an impressive building, blue tiles lining the roof and windows of stained glass, displaying roses. The Iron Rose itself was displayed above the entrance, gleaming in the morning sun. The structure itself was known as Candaeln.
Within, the wood floors were spotless and clean, and the plastered walls displayed portraits of past Captains, and another notable Iron Roses. Display cases of weapons of previous knights lined the walls, but one was placed above all.
The Saint's Blade, the Starlight Sword, Bane of the Vos Korvungand. The sword that had taken the head of Merrn the Kinslaughterer. The weapon that had pierced the heart of Volkstraad the red dragon. The silvery, almost ethereal-seeming blade of the Starlight Saint of Roses, Elionne herself, stood in the center of the room, carefully locked inside of glass case. It was the only thing that remained after the first captain of the Iron Roses had vanished. The blade was strong, but elegant, a sharp tip and a razor edge with a star-shaped crossguard.
Fanilly turned to her knights.
"Take the injured to the healers," she ordered, swiftly. The healers were to the left of the entrance hall, stationed in their own wing of Candaeln. "For everyone else, I would take some rest. You've earned it."
Fanilly glanced towards the stairs, and began to approach them. As she ascended, she had to admit to one desperate thought:
The Captain of the Iron Roses desperately desired a bath.
Of course, moments after she left the sight of the others, a courier would arrive at the front of Candaeln.
Oh, dear. What timing.
She was surprised to see Tiral get to his feet, and force himself to give a report even though he was clearly feeling unwell due to the electrical shock he had suffered.
"Ah, Sir Tiral, you were among those who I didn't require to report, er..." she waved her hands. Fanilly hadn't meant for those whose conditions would make it difficult to make a report, at the very least. However, it seemed that hadn't stopped Tiral, even as she watched him slump on one knee.
"... Transporting the injured back is a necessity," she began, feeling somewhat foolish for stating such an obvious fact, "Prisoners are to have their hands bound and be transported in a single file line. Do not harm them, they are already facing punishment for harming the innocent. Causing them pain is pointless cruelty."
The return trip was rather uneventful. The prisoners were utterly crushed, defeated by the loss of so many and the slaying of their leader. Who could ever have prepared them for the Iron Roses? The injured were transported with care, thankfully there were very few with any serious injuries. But that was to be expected, really, as the Iron Roses were an order of legend.
Fanilly traveled at the head of the Knights, upon her white mare. The farmer who had been used as bait by the bandits seemed to be capable of making a full recovery. His injury had looked worse then it actually was, apparently, though it was still bad enough that, if they had not found him, he would have perished.
To the young captain, it felt entirely too long to reach their destination.
But it was dawn when they came upon their destination. The walls of the capital loomed ahead of them.
Aimlenn had been built long, long ago, construction having begun shortly after Thaln itself was founded. In spite of the country's embattled history, the capital had never wavered, never fallen. Its tall, strong walls held fast. Aimlenn, among the people, was known as the fortress-city, as the grey stone walls, ornately adorned with symbols of Thaln, were a sight known far and wide across the land.
The immense steel and wood gate stood before them. In this time of peace, it remained open, and Fanilly led her knights through it.
The streets bustled with activity, merchants transporting goods, citizens going about their business, and as they headed in further, nobility and the rich with their entourages of guards, maids, and manservants walking the street. What was universal to all these people is the glance they cast up as the Iron Roses entered. Many, especially the average citizens, looked on in awe as the knights of legend proceeded in, taking with them what could only be those bandits who had hurt and killed so many.
The guards, many of them soldiers of Thaln, cast dark glares towards the prisoners.
Fanilly did her best not to react to any of it. Even when it was looks of awe, she was Captain of the Iron Roses. She could not let anything distract her from her duty.
The stone fortress that was home to Aimlenn's garrison and prison soon received the bandits. Their fate was essentially sealed, an execution would greet them. Barring some sort of sudden reprieve(which seemed highly unlikely, to say the least), they were set to die for their murders and thefts.
But Fanilly did not remain there. Instead, she lead her knights further down the winding streets.
The Iron Rose Knights were based near the Royal Family's castle. It was an impressive building, blue tiles lining the roof and windows of stained glass, displaying roses. The Iron Rose itself was displayed above the entrance, gleaming in the morning sun. The structure itself was known as Candaeln.
Within, the wood floors were spotless and clean, and the plastered walls displayed portraits of past Captains, and another notable Iron Roses. Display cases of weapons of previous knights lined the walls, but one was placed above all.
The Saint's Blade, the Starlight Sword, Bane of the Vos Korvungand. The sword that had taken the head of Merrn the Kinslaughterer. The weapon that had pierced the heart of Volkstraad the red dragon. The silvery, almost ethereal-seeming blade of the Starlight Saint of Roses, Elionne herself, stood in the center of the room, carefully locked inside of glass case. It was the only thing that remained after the first captain of the Iron Roses had vanished. The blade was strong, but elegant, a sharp tip and a razor edge with a star-shaped crossguard.
Fanilly turned to her knights.
"Take the injured to the healers," she ordered, swiftly. The healers were to the left of the entrance hall, stationed in their own wing of Candaeln. "For everyone else, I would take some rest. You've earned it."
Fanilly glanced towards the stairs, and began to approach them. As she ascended, she had to admit to one desperate thought:
The Captain of the Iron Roses desperately desired a bath.
Of course, moments after she left the sight of the others, a courier would arrive at the front of Candaeln.
Oh, dear. What timing.
Okay, so for sure getting a post up today, regardless of who's posted by the time I do.
Now, where did I say Elionne was dead?
@ghastlyInc:
Covered in the OP. ^^;
Sapient Undead: Living beings who have, for whatever reason, revived after death with their mind intact. Usually this process only occurs with the recently dead. In place of the inherent life of any living being, they possess what magi refer to as a "mana reactor", a wellspring of mana simulating life and allowing a corpse to be animated. Their bodies do not decompose, and they are immune to poisoning or the effects of bloodloss(though their blood does indeed flow it serves no purpose). The "mana reactor" allows their bodies to heal, but decapitation is unquestionably death for even the most powerful of sapient undead. They can also be hacked to pieces, their bodies capable of healing but needing its parts to be fixed in place before such a thing is possible. One possible source of Sapient Undead is necromancy.
Covered in the OP. ^^;
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