SoulWeaver
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Looking like it's going to be some serious Velouria vs Bernadetta dueling, though it's a little early to say. I'm taking Velouria for now, but if she loses we're going the madman Gharnef, I love that guy, especially with Close Foil and ATK-SPD Lull.
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10 hours ago, Sire said:
Decided to submit an entry on a whim. Not sure if it'll qualify since only about half it it is actually a dream sequence, but here it is anyway.
-- I think I wrote this with about eight hours of active work over a course of a day, split into 4 hour segments.
-- Sorta not completely happy with how the 2nd half of the story turned out, especially the fight sequence, but it is what it is.My old RWBY works had better fights...Title: Of Knights and Nightmares
-- Notes: Contains Action, Violence, and minor Blood.The stream flowed softly here in the forest’s clearing, providing a platform for dancing lights that reflected the starry sky above. The night sky was clear, no clouds or moon, but instead shown the tapestry of the cosmos with the twinkling stars. A soft breeze rustles the leaves, singing a favorite lullaby of the nature mother. Dancing with the wind were the long bladed grass, celebrating the arrival of a weary traveler who has come to this hallowed place to rest.
Leaning against a large boulder, the knight slumps to the ground in exhaustion. He takes off his helmet, letting it drop to the ground. His eyes seemingly stare at something far off in the distance, but his expression remains blank. Looking at his plate armor, it has been cut by blades and dented by hammers. Blood finds refuge in the imperfections, staining the armor and refusing to come off. As for his sword, the tip is broken and its edge is chipped. Despite the skill of its wielder at parrying blows, a tool can only do so much when forged by an inexperienced apprentice.
Mother Nature comforts the man with her children, lulling him into slumber with the stability of stone, the flowing water, and the dancing wind. The warmth of fire is nowhere to be found, but far in the distance, beyond the trees and hills, lies a castle and its town in inferno. If one were to listen closely, one could hear the frightened cries of children calling for their mothers as they wander lost in the fiery blaze. A local priestess calls out for survivors, acting as a shining beacon as she leads the townsfolk to safety. Men are torn between courage and cowardice as one attempt to lift debris off his fallen friend, while another breaks into a wealthy merchant’s home to make off with exotic goods. None of that matters here, as the hills and the trees block sight and sound from disrupting the soldier’s rest.
Slowly, the wind dies down and only the gentle movement of the stream remained. All was silent save for the sudden rush of flowing water, transforming the stream into rapids as water violently crashed against dirt and stone. Immediately, the knight opens his eyes. Remaining still as if still in slumber, his eyes vigilantly scan the perimeter of the clearing where shadows manifest and dart between the trees. He inches his right hand closer to his polished blade on the stony floor, while his left hand tightens its grip on the kite shield protecting his chest. Then, he closes his eyes and patiently waits.
Soft foot-falls on the grass mean little when the clattering of metal against metal scare off the wildlife. Whispers in the dark of some incomprehensible language direct shadows to surround the clearing. The clattering becomes louder, especially where metal meets stone. The sounds quieten down to the point where one can only hear their own breathing.
Taking a risk, the knight opens his eyes to see a figure above him seething darkness. Its eyes burn with anger, and its plate armor has been sliced by swords and slammed by maces. At its side, the broken blade drips flesh blood. While it resembled a human in silhouette, it was no flesh and blood creature. It was a being of the abyss, and it hungers.
Sensing the knight’s awareness, a sinister smile appeared on the figure’s face. Suddenly, the shield made hard contact with the figure, bashing its head and forcing the shadow backwards. The knight followed this momentum by swinging his blade to decapitate his opponent. As the head went flying, while it made no sound, one could have sworn it was laughing…
The first shadow dissipates upon its defeat. Arising from the ground, the knight readies his sword and shield for the coming onslaught. Around him, the wind picks up. Leaves on trees shake with anger while the grass thrashes about wildly. Then, from the clearing’s edge, two shadows charge at the knight.
Lunging forward, one shadow attempts to plunge its blade into the knight, but he deflects the thrust aside with his shield. Retaliating with a horizontal slash, the forward momentum of the shadow proves to be its downfall as it is cut open. It appears the armor only mimics its subject matter and does little for actual defense as the shadow dissolves.
Meanwhile, the other figure slashes its sword without rhyme or reason as it continues its advance towards the knight. Dodging the blows while backpedaling, an opening is found where a single counter thrust fells the enemy. The knight stands valiantly, defending the clearing against the incoming shadows.
And then, they all came at once. The man charged forward to meet them, ducking under their blows and slashing three with a mighty cleave. He keeps surging forward, dispatching his opponents before they have a chance to react. Yet, even as the shadows disperse upon defeat, they simply reform elsewhere and charge once again. It mattered not how they were slain. One was shoved into the rapids and was supposedly washed away. Two were impaled simultaneously by the knight’s blade. They were tireless beings from the abyss. The knight was just a man.
Turning around and raising his shield to block an incoming blow, the force of the impact made him lose his grip momentarily. This was all that was needed as a second shadow uppercutted with its blade, sending the shield flying up and away from the knight, disappearing into the rapids.
Emboldened by their small victory, the shadows rushed him. Even with a skillful parry with his sword, the knight could not defend himself if they all struck at once. While the armor held, each impact staggered the man, and eventually he fell as the figures continued their assault.
Fatigued and weakened by the fighting, the knight closed his eyes as he waited for his end. Yet, it did not come. The waters still crashed with violence and the wind remained furious, but the sounds of metal upon metal were no more. Yet, does that even matter? He was a failure. Despite all of the effort spent for training, despite the connections made on the royal court, despite becoming a royal knight who served the princess directly, he remains a failure.
The princess was meant to be wed during the next Star Festival. She had finally fallen for one of her suitors, and the alliance between kingdoms were all but assured. The foreign prince was a charming man, but his correspondence stated otherwise. There were plans in place to use the wedding as a means for a hostile takeover, killing off the royal family while keeping the princess in place as a puppet. Upon opening a letter for himself and exposing the plan, the knight was shamed and exiled. No one believed him, in fact, they all suspected the loyal knight to be the traitor. Even appealing directly to the princess fell on deaf ears, so infatuated she was with her future husband she ignored the claims. At least she had to mercy to spare him from execution…
Suddenly, there was warmth. Opening his eyes in curiosity, the fallen knight found the visage of a young woman standing a short distance away. No longer was she in her normal garments, but instead in a wedding dress. Her face was covered by a veil, but she was smiling. How? Why was the princess here?
Rising from the floor with assistance from his sword, the knight found the source of the heat. Fire has come to this hallowed place, burning the trees and fields. The shadow figures were gone. It was just the knight, the princess, and the maelstrom of nature.
A loud roar came from the skies above. At this moment, the weary traveler came to a realization. He discards his weapon, ignores the princess, and simply stares at the night sky. An enormous shadow passes overhead, that of a flying serpent. The girl places out her hand, but the man did not move. He simply waits as he enjoys the vision of the tapestry of the cosmos.
Pillars of fire engulf the man as the crimson dragon swoops in to claim its prey. Clutching at the knight with its claws, the dragon moves its head to feast on its newfound morsel. The last thing the wanderer sees is the visage of the woman, saying words that he could not hear.
Moving through brush and undergrowth, the priestess finally makes it to a small, tranquil clearing in the forest. She urges the survivors to keep moving when a man with burnt hands point out an armored figure leaning against a boulder. The refugees recoil in fear, but the priestess steps forward to inspect the knight.
The design of his armor and helmet match that of the princess’ personal retinue, so he is not one of the invaders. More importantly, he lies in a puddle of blood. Reaching a hand out to check his pulse, there is no response. He is dead, much like many of the knights and royal family.
She mutters a short prayer and then urges the survivors to keep moving. There is a monastery up in the mountains that is neutral territory. They have abundant supplies and will know what to do with this mass of refugees.
As the peasants, merchants, craftsman, and some nobles continue to flee, a young boy comes up to the priestess, holding a battered shield. It is a blue shield, with the emblem of a golden lion on it. It represents the heraldry of this fallen kingdom. The child found this while lost in the inferno, saying it gave him strength to find and be reunited with his mother. Maybe the sleeping man needs strength too, or so thought the child.
The priestess took the shield and placed it next to the fallen knight, so now he was complete. Perhaps it was his actual shield that he lost when attempting to rescue the princess. No matter the case, it was time to move on. The nature mother will take care of the rest.
Far away, beyond the trees and hills, in the smoldering inferno, a red flag was being raised. It’s heraldry? The face of a black dragon.
Hey, glad to have you back for another round!
I like this, it's short, but it does a pretty good job of giving us just enough to understand the story behind it while withholding enough to make me want to see more. I could almost see this segment being used as like a tutorial level in a game, actually. Overall, pretty nice, I think my only possible issue would be what you said about it not quite fitting the prompt. It may have fit more if you perhaps made the whole thing almost like a premonition kind of dream, but then you risk falling into cliche-ing the whole thing so I think it works best as it is now.
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“Possibly. Do remember, though, Charlemagne said Nortia appears to have turned on humanity - who’s to say the others haven’t as well?”
Difficult odds indeed...I’m most interested in seeing how this will play out.
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11 minutes ago, Xenomata said:
Brave Ephraim's best fodder option is Special Fighter. Armor March would be a close second, but since it's now a Sacred Seal (and also available pretty easily via Divine Codes) I hesitate to say that Bephraim is worth sacrificing for that alone.
As for Lyon, Bonus Doubler is probably the most diverse fodder option for him, as Null C-Disrupt relies on the scenario that the enemy has a -sweep skill or effect in the first place. Rouse AR can be simulated in many ways, but can still be considered if you happen to have a unit who you think will be too far away from any allies to get the same buff. Bonus Doubler meanwhile... I mean, it can get pretty crazy if you can stack it with LegEphraim's Bonus Doubler status (LegMarth can QUADRUPLE his Field Buffs this way too), and is just a good option overall for a PP Bladetome user.Yeah, I did use the Divine Code Amelia Manual on my Wendy already, if that changes anything.
I also technically have Nah and probably won't be using her, is she better Doubler Fodder or should I be using her for Infantry Breath when I'm done with her? -
Would Loki run better with +SPD or +RES? Apparently I have two of her sitting around and I really don’t plan on ever sacking any Unit for their Duel Skill so that leaves merging since the ATK Wave is available through Grails now.
Also I seem to have a spare Brave Ephraim and Fallen Lyon. Is there a recommendation for which Skills to give up from them? Special Fighter and Armor March are both nice, and Lyon’s kind of almost too loaded Fodder-wise.
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The problem is it’s going to be a pretty decent length of time for me to get Orbs up again, I have another shot at LegendaRoy coming up at the end of...November, I think, and he’s the last Roy I need.
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Meanwhile I make it a whole week without a single 5S, let alone any of the Ishtar merges I burned my whole(admittedly small) stash trying to get. And people say Weekly Revivals are worth the trouble.
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Huh, I didn't dream that happened. Uh...ok. So, uh, let's see...I already did Halloween-themed last year...holy frick it's been a whole year...uh...how about...ooh, @DarthR0xas could make some use of this one as a KH fan, not to mention the current state of FEH's story.
The prompt is to write about Dreams. You can make it about someone's life goal kind of dream, someone's sleeping dream, whatever comes to mind, but the focus of the piece is Dreams.
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Wait what how did I do best no where’s my LIIIIST
...In all seriousness, it’s fricking 1 in the morning, we’re waiting until post-church tomorrow.
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20 hours ago, Ottservia said:
This one was okay. I didn't particularly care for the conflict at hand so I mostly unengaged but minor nitpick. It was simple but I feel like the story could've done better a third-person limited PoV rather than omniscient. I dunno. My main issue is that I felt overall disconnected from the characters involved but other than that it was fine, I suppose.
Yeah, it was more built around me practicing actually writing the fighting itself out. I would probably use a different setting if I do another fight scene, to practice linking a larger story to the actual fight itself. When you say third-person limited PoV, do you mean like an actual third person acting as an onlooker?
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...I already know I'm going to like this. Also those image sizes mmm, beautiful.
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1 hour ago, TheSilentChloey said:
If you haven't noticed it by now, shame on you,Lol, keep in mind Jotari's been absent from the writing for a while, probably hasn't noticed your worldbuilding.
11 hours ago, Jotari said:Oh wow. Very similar vibes from the opening of this one to my own. Even a dislike of titles. Huh. Not sure if that enamors me with the piece or just makes me feel unoriginal with my own entry. Overall though I did like this one. The characters managed to come to life and their playful chatting managed to work for the characters they were. However I have two pretty big problems. One is that I have absolutely no idea why they're fighting. I gather it's because Kilin is a reaper, and I can assume what that entails. But who hunted who? Which one is the aggressor? It goes into why they fight philosophically speaking, but not in an immediate contextual sense. The second issue is a sense of setting. Perhaps it's mentioned somewhere, but reading the story the characters might as well be in a void. There are no details of the setting that registered at all. Maybe you mentioned something, but I'm glancing at the first few paragraphs and there's nothing there and that's where it needs to be. I have no clue if these two people are fighting in a forest, or on a skyscraper or on a snowy mountain or in a volcano. It could be absolutely anywhere and that's not exactly a good thing. Even if it is in a featureless void with no terrain to make use of, say that. Describe what that looks and feels like visually. This is a pretty big issue with the story that could be solved in just a single line to say they're in a damp cave or something (of course we shouldn't depend on a single line to establish a sense of space, but one line is way, way better than none at all).
SpoilerI mostly just found it a curious coincidence.
One-Armed Reaper is a difficult beast, for an entirely different reason than my other pre-existing stuff. It was initially a game concept that sort of morphed into a book idea, which is why I chose to use it for this prompt, to test how well I could put fight ideas in my head onto paper. This is probably my first serious attempt at writing a fight scene like ever, so it's definitely not horribly refined. Going back and looking at my other pieces I've put on here that were based on my pre-existing stuff, you can usually find either a nice big pre-read exposition dump or a big post-read batch of notes, but in this instance I decided to just see how well the piece stands on its own, both to test my own writing and because all the previous times I used my pre-existing stuff someone made mention of the fact that I used such extensive notes and did so in a negative light.
If you'd like I'd be happy to give you the condensed exposition notes for the more pressing background details, but regardless, thanks for the feedback, the issue of setting is especially helpful, I could have sworn I made mention of it being on a battlefield early on, but no, the first real mention of setting is halfway through the second page when Hercetus knocks Kilin into one of the fires dotting the battlefield, which is definitely something I'll have to work on in the future. -
28 minutes ago, eclipse said:
In order:
1 and 2. While it's not stated explicitly, it's actually a testing run for some wearable tech along with a practical sparring match featuring our narrator. I felt that the postmortem would be just as long as the story itself, which wasn't the point of the prompt (tl;dr - everything needs to go back to the drawing board). Can write out the report if you're interested.
3. Few days in the hospital. It wasn't overexertion that caused the collapse, it was a head injury (that's what happens when your head is slammed into a solid object more than once). Other guy also wound up in the hospital. The higher-ups had enough foresight to put them on separate floors.
I mean, I don't know about anyone else, but I'd be down to read the concepts if you feel like sharing.
23 minutes ago, AnonymousSpeed said:y-...yeah, but then I'd have had to put my own entry in, and that just felt dirty.
So I did you dirty instead.
Hm.
Maybe that wasn't a continent decision.
Yeah, maybe only a country decision. Or a state one. Not quite down to county level though.
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On 10/9/2020 at 2:17 AM, Mercakete said:
Hmm you know what I want? I would like to see a comic of Xane trying to turn into Bramimond and Bramimond mimicking Xane just to see what would happen.
...Upon reflection, yes.
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...When you stop and think about it, bread is just like chickens. You raise it specifically so you can chop off one of the ends and consume it.
In other news since apparently eclipse still exists:
On 10/4/2020 at 2:45 AM, eclipse said:I'm back solely to post an entry for this. Turns out the thing I'm writing off-site fits this prompt perfectly!
Title: Fashionably Offensive
Fandom: Original
Words:
Notes: The lack of names is intentional. Yes, there's a world behind it, and no, I'm not going to go too much into detail on a public forum. Ending's rough because it should segue into a lot of other things. If the premise seems vaguely familiar. . .it's not an accident.The gods had it out for me today.
It would've been far more pleasant if I had found anyone ELSE in this forsaken alley. But him? He was a head taller than me and roughly my weight plus half, all of the difference in muscle. The only witnesses to the beating I would most likely receive would be a pair of dirty yellow dumpsters, overflowing with trash.
Not only was I in for something that would most likely put me in the hospital, I would smell awful afterwards.
He roared and charged. One of the advantages I had was speed, and I ducked and stepped to the side. Undeterred, he pivoted on his heel and swung a meaty fist towards my face. Rather than have him rearrange my relatively handsome features, I lurched further to the side. The dumpsters protested with a metal clang as I ran into them, and I used their metallic bulk to right myself. It shifted when I put pushed against it. Interesting.
"You'll pay," he growled.
"For what? You aren't selling anything!" I replied cheekily. His size wasn't as threatening if I could cloud his judgment. The growl from his throat told me that my verbal jab had been spot-on. Instead of charging me, he swung his fist towards my midsection. The world slowed down, and I saw myself grab his wrist and guide it behind me. Time righted itself when a bang and a lot of swearing indicated that my plan had worked.
"YOU KNOW WHY!" he shouted. Despite his new hand wound, he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me roughly into the wall next to the dumpsters. My vision momentarily blurred, and I heard my head bounce off the wall. His fist found my solar plexus, and I felt whatever was left of my breakfast rise up in my throat.
"That hurt, you bastard," I coughed out weakly. He'd go for my face next, like he always did. I had guided his right fist towrads the dumpster, so I relied on my instincts to dodge the blow I couldn't see coming. I felt nothing, but heard more swearing. Good. Maybe I'd get out of this without too many serious injuries. When I dared to look up, his left hand sported flecks of blood.
"You still haven't landed a punch on me," he bragged.
"Don't have to. You're doing a fine job of beating the crap out of yourself." The pain in my stomach subsided, and I gingerly stood up. My green eyes locked with his blue ones, which burned with anger and jealously. Right, we'd both been interested in the same girl, but she only had eyes for one of us. First date had gone swimmingly, too. Was going to meet her tonight, injuries permitting.
"Well fine. I'll stand here and block you in until you do something. I'm free for the rest of the day." Now that wouldn't do! I launched a jab at his face, which he easily evaded. He wasn't fast enough to dodge the kick aimed as his shins. Pain rang through my leg after my foot connected. What was he wearing under his pants? The attack had knocked him on his rear, and we stayed apart for a few seconds. My leg sang while he stood up unsteadily.
"The hell was that?" I mumbled. He grabbed my jacket and yanked me towards him. Instead, the material came apart like an old plastic bag, which left my jacket in tatters and him with a handful of useless black cloth. He started dumbfoundedly at his new acquisition, while I used the momentum to swing my elbow into his chest. He grunted.
"You always hit like a girl," he said evenly.
"Sounds like a compliment," I said with a grin. Before he could process my response, I extended my arm and the back of my fist connected with his face. Chances are, everything below his waist would hurt me if I tried to strike him there. I brought my knee up to his stomach, then finished with a proper punch to his face. He staggered back.
"I almost felt that," came the smug reply. The blood from his nose said otherwise. With speed that belied his frame, he closed in, slamming his shin into mine. Pain blossomed in my legs, and I yelped. Next came another blow to my stomach, followed by a hand to my throat. He slammed my head against the wall. This time, my vision doubled. Out of desperation, I flatted the back of my hands against the inside of his arms, and raked down. Much to my surprise, I felt blood on my fingers. He screamed and let me go.
"THAT was not cool!" I had to agree with my assailant on that one. It was a move that would only work on someone who wore a short-sleeved shirt like his, but damn if it wasn't effective in breaking someone's stranglehold!
"Be thankful I didn't target your pretty blue eyes," I responded sarcastically. In response, he grabbed me by my hair and threw me against the dumpster. Instead, I fell to the floor, which was now made of plain metal. Gone was the abandoned alley, replaced by a room made of steel. The smell of the dumpster lingered.
"That's enough, you two!" came the voice of a cranky old man from the speakers. "Any more and you'll both end up in the hospital for the next few days!"
"I have plans tonight!" I complained. My opponent stared at his forearms instead of helping me up.
"Really, what the hell. Nail polish shouldn't leave these kinds of injuries!" He turned his arms to me, which steadily dripped blood.
"I could ask the same of you. What kind of pants are you wearing?" He opened his mouth to answer, but the loudspeaker crackled to life.
"The two of you will be debriefed AFTER the hospital gives you a clean bill of health. And after we get that nail polish off both of you."
"You too?" I asked.
"It serves a different purpose," my opponent grumbled. He gingerly ran his nails over his bloodied arms. I grimaced in sympathy. "Do I need to carry you to the hospital?" I shook my head and bit back a wave of nausea. He shrugged and walked towards the door, with me following unsteady in his wake.
The world blurred. I would miss tonight's date. The last thing I remembered was my opponent desperately yelling for someone to bring a stretcher.
SpoilerThis is pretty solid too, you did a good job of getting me interested in the world behind this story specifically - what was under the one guy's pants? Why is nail polish an important part of this combat? What happened to the one who overexerted themselves, assuming that was even what happened? Pretty solid work at catching my interest.
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Wait what the how long has eclipse been on here, how did I miss that.
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6 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:
Sorry @Jotari, the deadline for entry was last night.
Wait.
I wrote a piece for this round, I forgot to submit it.
Dang nabbit.
Frick.
GarageBand.
I'll update things later.
I dunno, I'd like having multiple pieces to pick between, and I think Chloey would agree. It's just us two right now, right?
Anyways, I see no problem with giving feedback even if it ends up getting demoted to non-participant.
12 hours ago, Jotari said:Alright, I have a piece for this. It's actually and old extract taken from a larger story. I wrote it, wow probably like seven or eight years ago. My prose has improved since then, I think. Honestly I should have probably taken the same scene and rewrote it in it's entirety to get something up to standard. But really the whole point of this competition being encouraging to write something hasn't really been working for me recently. I thought of writing something original, but honestly I find this prompt quite difficult. For me what makes for a good fight are the emotional stakes behind what's happening more than any technical detail. Especially in a non visual medium like this wherein over technical descriptions just don't work as well as seeing them. Problem is that it's kind of hard to build up that emotional context and stakes in a short story (haven't read how the other entrants have attempted it yet). That's why I thought this fight would suit particularly well as the context behind it isn't massively complex and it does have some technical interest being a sword vs bow fight. Though reading it just now it is kind of short, in a revised version there was some more playing with arrows as steps up the valley wall, but I won't post that since it's POV leads to more references that wouldn't work for a short story. Guh, I do want to just rewrite it entirely now, but as usual I've procrastinated until Sunday night to toss something together. Someone give a good prompt next round. I really want to give it my all and write a piece I'm actually satisfied for a change.
Title: Through Osprey's Eyes
Wordcount: 2781
Osprey tested the twin strings of her bow Argentia. Years of use had failed to take any toil on the weapon at all. She took aim at a raven flying high above her. It was not one of the two ravens following her though it could still belong to Capalla. Carefully she shot one of her two nocked arrow high in the direction of the bird. As she intended the arrow missed and the raven flew away in the direction it had come from. She had no doubts now, it was a fairy. Her heart rate began to quicken. Did that mean he was on his way? Her nemesis. The man she was born to fight. Harrow, the Son of Fate. She knew it was far from any real indicator, but something deep down inside her told her that it was time. She had been waiting here in this valley for days now. She had been convinced they had travelled the other way, but now she was convinced otherwise. He was coming.
She looked at the arrow that lay embedded on the valley floor and concentrated. It wobbled slightly but failed to move. She frowned. Magic had never been her strong suit, neither had melee combat much to her father's dismay. It was the bow that she had learned to love. The precision involved with aiming. The minute, instinctual, calculations. The trill as the arrow is launched at a speed faster than anything else man had made. She lived to shoot. For her there was no greater pleasure in the world. Naturally she loved her bow Argentia above all else too. She cared for it more than the father that gave it to her. It responded to her every whim as if it were alive. Perfect weight and a perfectly tight set of strings. It was even amazing to look at, being made almost entirely from silver and gold. However she knew it might not be enough alone to take down this particular foe. She had made sure to bring along four miniature crossbows. Two now lay at her hip while the other two were tied to her back.
As she nocked another arrow he came around the corner. Without thinking, without even considering it might be someone else, she shot both. With a sheathed sword he blocked the first arrow, but the second caught him in the shoulder. It was him. She was certain it was him. Harrow was the only one who could block an attack from Argentia without magic. It had to be him. She smiled as he quickly dodged behind a boulder. She had hit him. If it were not for Argentia's twin strings she would have failed. She kissed the bow lightly. It had done well. Harrow would be slower now. The job was not yet over but now it was only a matter of time. Part of her regretted that she would not get to talk to the man she had spent her entire life waiting to meet.
Without warning he dashed out from behind the rock, sword drawn. She fired two more arrows at him as fast as she could, but he blocked them with ease. She frowned as she readied two more. He didn't seem slowed at all. In fact he was travelling with such speed she didn't even have a chance to fire another round. He leaped over her cover and brought his sword down onto Argentia. He attacked with a lot of force but Argentia saved her once more with its refusal to break. With all the force she could muster she pushed him back. She gained some distance and drew two more arrows.
She did not fire immediately. She wanted to talk to him first, but she couldn't think of a single word to say. She had looked forward to this encounter all her life, yet now she failed to think of a single thing to say to the man that caused her existence. Should she tell him who she was? Of the relationship their parents had?
Instead he spoke first. "Who are you?" he asked.
She decided to keep things simple, for now. "You can call me Osprey," she said. "I am a Hero like you."
"You know who I am?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. You are Harrow the Horrible. The greatest Hero of this age. One of my employers warned me you would be here. I must admit you really sweeten the deal. It will be an honour to do battle with one as great as you. An honour I have been waiting all my life to receive. I wasn’t actually expecting you to take this route though. How fortunate for me." She smiled. She couldn't help herself.
"Who is your employer?" More questions. He was an inquisitive one.
"I don't mind telling you since one of us will die shortly. I have two employers and two missions. One is to secure princess Melleny Argos Sovernea by the decree of her father Maystros Vargo Sovernea. My other missions is to assassinate the professor known as Kyron by order of a man who calls himself Capalla. But you Harrow. You are the ultimate prize. My personal mission."
"You're young," he observed. "What did you say your name is?"
"Osprey."
"Osprey." He repeated her name as if in deep thought. "That sounds familiar. You wouldn't happen to be the Sudden Death would you?"
Her lip curled in distaste. Of all the names she could have known her for it was that one. The one that symbolised all the shamelessness and dishonour of her weapon.
He noticed her change in expression. "So you don't like the titles either?"
"No. They always seem to miss the most important facts." She considered his titles. The King of Slaughter. Ivan the Impaler. He probably felt the same way as her. That brought her some happiness. They were alike the two of them. A foil to each other.
"Fine then," he said. "No titles. This will be a battle between Harrow and Osprey. Two people from two places. One of us will live and one of us will die. Are you prepared?"
Her heart began to quicken again. This was it. It was finally happening. She knew the chances of her dying were very real, but it no longer mattered. She was fulfilling her destiny. Winning was not important. Only the fighting. "I was born prepared," she told him.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'll warn you, I've never lost before."
"Neither have I." She launched a set of arrows. To her surprise he managed to dodge them though the look on face told her he wasn't prepared for it. If she was to win then this would require a lot more skill and focus than she had ever needed before. Argentia was a magic bow. The more power she put into it the more force her arrows would shoot with. It was never a feature she had needed until now.
"The fact that I can dodge those shots at this range must make you realize you stand no chance against me," he said as he dashed forward and swiped his sword. Acting without thinking she dropped to the ground to avoid the blade, drew her crossbows and fired. He was just above her but in an instant he had retreated to the air and blocked the bolts with his sword. Any lesser sword would have been broken by now. She looked at his weapon as she got to her feet. It was a simple looking katana. Almost too simple looking. It must be magical in nature too.
She abandoned the crossbows. They would take too long to reload. Instead she kicked Argentia back into her hand and nocked two more arrows. She feigned launching her arrows by releasing them and quickly grabbing the string again at a speed no normal human could manage. It had always been a useless trick she had developed. She had never thought to use it in battle. No one would have the reaction speed to even realise she was feigning a shot. No one except Harrow that is. In this one particular instance it was the one thing she could do to get a successfully shot in. He dodged early allowing her to shoot for real while he was unprepared. He still managed to avoid the first arrow, but the second hit him in the shin. Now he would realise the magnitude of what he faced. She was no small enemy. If he somehow managed to kill her today, then she would make sure to embed herself in his memory forever. But she had no intention of dying just yet. She shot to kill, but he managed to block both arrows at once with his sword. To her surprise he leaped forward and attacked again. This time with a downward arc. She dodged to the side, dropped Argentia and fired with her two remaining crossbows. Before it had even hit the ground she kicked Argentia back into her hand as he dodged and tried to counter attack.
They were standing right beside each other now. That was his mistake. She kicked his weakened shin which caused him to fall to the ground in pain, but only briefly. He shot out with his hand and grabbed her bow. He tried to fling it across the valley, but she wouldn’t let go. She would not let him separate her from Argentia. However he was strong enough to lift her from the ground and send her flying several meters. Before she landed he tried to blast her with magic, but she managed to instinctively cast a shield to protect herself. She landed without stumbling and smiled. Her father would be proud. He always told her to focus on defensive magic.
She now stood some distance away from him. His leg was injured and he had just failed to deal any damage with a long range attack. This battle was hers. She drew two more arrows and fired them as fast as she could. He did not try to avoid them, instead he blocked them with his sword. He stood there waiting for her attack. She fired two more arrows with a delay in between that was different than her usual pattern. It wasn't good enough. He still managed to block with ease. She tried three more times with no more success.
"You'll run out of arrows eventually," he said. He didn't sound distressed at all despite his situation.
"You'll slip up," she said and she believed it. She was winning. She could do this. She knew she could. She had come too far to fail now.
She launched four arrows at once. He managed to knock them off course with a magic attack, but she had wasted no time in firing two more. As she had hoped he was unprepared for the second volley, but to her dismay he still managed to block and avoid the attack without taking any damage. Still, the sign of weakness was there. She still had sixteen arrows left. She launched eight in succession, she was sure to hit something and once he had taken another injury he was finished.
Except to her surprise he went on the offensive. She conjured a barrier as soon as he attacked, but he was not aiming for her. He shot a blast of magic upwards towards the valley's wall. A few minor pieces of rubble fell were dislocated but not nearly enough to concern her. She turned back to face him except he was now standing directly in front of her. She was not prepared for the insane speed in which he managed to travel the distance between them. He swung his sword but she was fast too. She threw herself backwards. It was enough to get out of the way of the attack but a loose stone found its way under her foot. She let out a barely audible "no," as she felt herself lose balance and begin to fall. He did not even wait for her to reach the ground. With a single stroke he sliced open her abdomen. Then, without hesitation, he drove his sword right through her and pinned her to the valley floor.
No she thought. No this isn't fair. It wasn't her fault. She had slipped. It was the ground. But it didn't matter. He had won. She had hit him first, but it was his attack that finished it. The sword passed right through her chest, but still, she somehow managed to talk. "Ivan the Impaler," she whispered. She wanted to hurt him. He had been lucky. He didn't deserve to win.
"I thought we agreed no titles," he said. She looked into his eyes. They were sad eyes. Eyes covered in a sorrow he probably didn't even realise he had. In an instant her anger vanished. She tried to talk again, but only managed to vomit blood. He removed his sword.
"You've slain me. I think I'm entitled to call you whatever I want." She was sad now too. This man standing above her was the same as her. He was her as she was him. The world blurred and for a second he was lost from sight.
"Die knowing you were one of the finest opponents I've ever faced," he said.
It hurt to smile. He had killed her, but right now he seemed so kind. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think I did pretty good. I thought I almost had you." Every word was agony to form but she knew she had to speak. Somehow she had to make him understand the bond they both shared.
He said something, but she couldn't focus on his words. "I slipped up. I should have known better." The sorrow was returning. Did it really have to end this way?
"It only takes one mistake," he told her but she wasn't listening.
"My bow" she gasped.
"It's in your hand."
He was right. She felt it there in her palms. "I know." She had always known where it was as it has never left her side. Not since the moment she had first taken it in her hand. "Please. Leave my body here but take my bow with you." She remembered the look on Capalla's face when he saw her bow. He wanted it for himself. She couldn't let that happen. Harrow would take it. She was Harrow. Through him she would always be with it. "You would honour me if you used it," she told him.
"I will use it. I promise." He reached forward. He had misunderstood. She could not part with it yet.
"No," she pleaded. "Wait until after I've died. Argentia...is a part of me." She hoped beyond hope that he understood what she meant, for it held more truth than anything she had ever said. "Just leave it until..." her words trailed off as the effort to speak became too much. The darkness began to sink in. She did not fear the darkness. It brought comfort. It felt like home.
"You’re a hybrid?" Harrow said. "Like me."
That's right she thought. He was still there. She couldn't sleep yet. She had to talk to him. She had to make him understand. Understand what, she did not know, but he had to know it. She could no longer see him nor feel him. She summoned all the reserve energy in her body. All the pieces of life that still flowed in places that were no longer needed. Her toes, her elbows, her eyes. All energy was focused on talking with the ruptured lungs. "My father was Tael. An outcast Fairy Lord as powerful as the Queens." She could see her father's face. Was he here with her? "I was born. Sixteen years ago. You were eighteen. Already you had. Made a name for yourself." Her body’s reserves of energy was gone now. All she could do was draw power from magic in the air. It would not sustain her indefinitely, but it would keep her going long enough. "He wanted to create...Something like you. All my life I've been training to surpass...You."
"I'm sorry," she heard him say. He sounded very far away now.
She forced the muscles in her neck to perform a dull head shake. "No. Don't apologize. Even if I was born...To full fill one purpose. And failed...I am. Still glad. Because I had a life. And it was...pretty good..." The pain was gone now. The world was gone now. She didn't know if Harrow could still hear her but she spoke anyway. "Goodbye Harrow...My creator...My killer."
SpoilerI like this quite a bit. I also went with a bit of the same title-hating thing, so that was interesting to see, and the Bow vs Sword is certainly an interesting matchup, I like how you went with that too. Fight was pretty well paced, I could see it in my head pretty well so your descriptions held up, and the end result actually psyched me a bit, so nice work there. Overall a clean piece.
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I'm so close, and yet so far away, I have no idea how the frick to wrap it up.
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3 hours ago, Wraith said:
The Stop Sign making industry!
Finally a response that fits the subforum.
I don't think I have any industries I outright despise, though the music industry is definitely trying its best. Owl City aside most music I hear is either crap or heavily angled towards specific mindsets/worldviews, neither of which should be on my radio in my admittedly horribly biased opinion.
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I mean...it's ok. The main problem I have with this is that Xane and Grima look interesting enough that I'll be a little sad if I don't summon them, but the Banner in general isn't interesting enough to merit me actually trying for anything(plus I'm broke and orbless following an attempted run for more DC Fodder - somehow I now have two -SPD +RES Lif).
Actually, we haven't had a single Duo/Harmonized Hero Banner I've actually had a reason to be interested in, now that I think about it. I was interested in the 3H one specifically so I could fodder another insignificant peon to Narcian, but I ended up with free Byleth instead. They're nice, just...not really Units I like that much, and that's how all the Harmonized Heroes have been too.
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On 10/1/2020 at 7:27 PM, AnonymousSpeed said:
Oh heck, sweet potato pies, I forgot. Gotta make sure I have ingredients for that. Personally though I've been playing Star Force 3 so I'm more in the mood for ginger beef.
You pitiful fool, to think the pies are on OUR side...
Spoiler -
“Hm, in that case, perhaps Lady Karen had best take...hm, Butter, and head back. A gambler is at his worst when he’s frustrated, and a scout is not much different - forcing someone to go along when they don’t want to may result in less-than-optimal performance.” Not to mention if Karen is going to beat Cantus’ brains out using only that mirror, I absolutely must be there to see it.
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"No, it's not my given name - a barmaid called me that, apparently some kind of insult in her native tongue, and I went with it. I'd prefer to keep my given name to myself for the time being, my apologies for the slight rudeness of it. Well, with that, let's be off, good luck to the rest of you, we'll search for, oh, probably five to ten minutes or so and then fall back to catch up."
Expanding Sticker Rewards to More Things
in Far from the Forest...
Posted
I would argue against the 'I got vaccinated' one, though I know I'll be an odd one out here.
Frankly, I find I hate the 'I voted' sticker because it reminds me every year of how unworthy I was to vote. I know next to nothing about the individuals on the ballot nine times of ten, I simply go with whoever my mother says to, as I know she does in fact do her research each year, usually with my brother alongside as he also tends to pay more attention than I do. I firmly believe people who cannot spare the time to do the research necessary to know for themselves should by all means not be allowed to vote, myself included, and thus the sticker ultimately remains more a source of shame for me, one that is generally found in the trash long before the end of the month.