[seasonal event] scrapes the sky and scars the earth
For Dante
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
The morning pressed into his skin, and he ventured, ventured, ventured, retracing old footpaths, bow slung on his back, intending to revisit previous haunts. Practice and routines were an imminent course too, swords, blades, and incantations eternally familiar, the weapons an extension of his existence, the enchantments a pulsing, beating, wild portion of his life. His archery, however, had gone by the wayside without hunting, when the claws of LongNight dragged their piercing slates down their spines, when distraction after distraction loomed greater than the slide of bowstrings. They’d made advancements on all sides to some degree – portals opened, mountains echoing and haunting, consequences rendered great and small, the barracks molded into the scenery, signals of renewal and rebirth. So perhaps he could warrant these movements, brushing over tall grass, lingering along the edges of apple trees, the trickle of water.

The penetrating depths of his gaze wandered, wandered, wandered, catching over movements of branches and boughs, of birds taking flight, of other wildlife drumming within the sanction. He inhaled a breath, a steadying, mighty force coiling in his chest, eyes scouring the playing field – until they caught the bewildering maneuvers of the memory mud. Today some had ventured along the middle of a tree trunk, clinging to its surface, and he studied, examined its motions for seconds, scrutinizing, meticulous in his concentration and focus, quiet movements and rustles of fabric the only notion or sign he was conspiring. He brought the bow forward, reached behind him to grab hold of an arrow waiting in its quiver, and notched. Within those singular moments, there was only the earth and the subtle ferocity lingering along his blood, a reaching of strings, pulled taut and tight by brawn, by vehemence, by the marks and aspirations of precision. Then he released, unleashed, allowed it to fly, enough power and force behind its volley to launch straight into the mud with a thud.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace
Dante Steelson
Nurse apprentice

Age: 22 | Height: 5'8 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 1 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 12 - Int:
Played by: Dyn Offline
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Posts: 61 | Total: 134
MP: 0
#2
DANTE
Dante had never ventured this far out of the settlement. Aside from his time at that Spire upon arrival and to plant with Oliver, he'd had no reason to leave the comfort of the temple where he'd created a temporary home until someone noticed and presumedly kicked him out. For now, it was just fine. But sometimes comfort got tiring and as much as he was a fan of the relative safety that the settlement offered, he was still a teenage boy and if Longnight had taught him anything aside from how terrifying Caido could be, it was how much he hated being cooped up with his newfound freedom.

He'd never been to the Glade before, but the morning sun was begging to be explored in and who was Dante to say no? He's certainly not the most graceful as he bumbles through the woods, more interested in observing the plants along the way and the occasional small animal he may have startled from their breakfast, but he still enjoys his walk through the woods as a moment to reflect on the situations he's found himself in since arriving in Caido. Even if getting lost in the results of his thought end in a few falls over roots determined to see his demise and subsequently dirty pants.

But what pulls him from his reverie of the luck to run into Clemente and someone as kind as Evie to show him the way during Longnight, is the dull thud of something impacting a tree across the clearing he'd eventually skirted his way along. The mud that oozes along the shaft of the sudden protrusion in its midst is certainly disturbing in a way that is when nature moves against the laws of, well, nature itself. Pulling his gaze away with a raised brow he follows the likely path of the arrow back to a complete bear of a man standing with his bow.

"What'd that mud ever do to you, huh?" He calls out before thinking that perhaps interrupting an armed and hulking stranger wasn't the brightest idea. It's too late to take the words back once they've slipped past his lips and while stepping into plain view might not be the best idea when someone is holding a bow, Dante hasn't run into anyone in Caido that's meant him harm.

Hopefully that remained true in the glade.

To make it up to you
let me spin and excite you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
The arrow’s impact was true and ensconced in the swell of the muck, but the shaft had no sooner struck than the mire simply seemed to erode around it, slinking downwards, lingering down the trunk. He marched forward, bow lowered, intending to remove the munition from bark, when a call erupted over the trees, echoing and bounding along copses and vines. He shifted, turning, a singular arch to his brow as an unfamiliar, mouthy child (because apparently his experiences in Helovia hadn’t been enough to signify ridiculous youths in his mind, now they were everywhere here too) – apparently defending the mud. For a moment, he thought about not replying at all, because the situation seemed completely, utterly foolish, and he could be doing a thousand other things than arguing over semantics of memory mud, if the maneuvering blobs felt pain and anguish, or how many individuals seemed to rush headlong into something without forethought. Did the youth have a death wish, to rush upon someone with a weapon?

Instead of responding, he first grabbed hold of the arrow, returning it to his quiver, and then the silt itself, bringing it along his hands and stretching it out, allowing the boy, the stranger, to see the thing had already reformed, as if naught had touched, scorched, or maimed it at all. He tilted his head in the vaguest sense of scrutiny, the kind where predators pondered how quickly they could catch and tear; before uttering anything at all. “Do you intend to save them all?” Deimos hadn’t heard of anyone endeavoring for the plight and fate of mud, but he was hardly shocked by anything anymore.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace
Dante Steelson
Nurse apprentice

Age: 22 | Height: 5'8 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 1 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 12 - Int:
Played by: Dyn Offline
Change author:
Posts: 61 | Total: 134
MP: 0
#4
DANTE
Okay, bear-man was much closer now. So maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Considering he was holding a bow that he could obviously use and Dante had... Well, he had his good looks. That had to count for something. Maybe people in Caido respected a beautiful corpse more than a mouthy teenager. He wouldn't be too surprised based on the looks he'd received already from those he'd run into.

Whatever the case was, he was still alive, and that mud was also... Alive? Was the mud sentient here, was that a thing? First the tulips, now the mud. Should he be concerned about the grass he was standing on? Okay, weird, but whatever.

"I'm just sayin', it seems like kind of a lame target. Not that I'm volunteering—" He's quick to follow up with a wave of his hands as he moves his gaze from the wriggling mud to the bears face as he took a step back. He wasn't sure how trigger-happy (bow-happy?) people were here and he wasn't eager to find out despite his interruptions. "I was just thinking that since, y'know, mud doesn't move— not where I'm from anyway —so maybe it'd be useless target practice. But what do I know." He laughs nervously, hands twisting in the hem of his shirt as he fidgets.

"I don't even know how to hold those things." He gestures one hand at the bow while taking another step back towards the denser gathering of trees behind him. "Anyway, I should probably go and let you uh, shoot some more mud... If that's what you're into." Dante clears his throat as he nods in agreement with his own statement.

To make it up to you
let me spin and excite you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
He listened to the rambling, head tilted vaguely, expression heightened to pinnacle reticence, reserve, and utter nonchalance. Deimos hadn’t intended to make the boy his newest target anyway, though the notion seemed particularly promising, and he almost laughed at the thought of the youth rampaging through the woods, eager to escape the snap of the string, the loosening of another arrow, unfurling, unfurling, unfurling. The apathetic gaze broke only to arch a brow, jaw unhinging to barely, briefly, expand on further information. “This mud moves.” To prove his point, he placed the muck down on the ground, where it began to wiggle and maneuver as best one could without legs, sifting and shifting along the soil – left to its own devices once more. His gaze, piercing, segmented back to the boy, who appeared nervous, apprehensive, after his initial blistering statement – perhaps regretful or uncertain about what the General might do next. It humored and amused him briefly.

As far as the child hastening off though; the Sword hadn’t intended to assail him off into the next void. “Do you want to try?” An offering instead, before the stranger backed into a tree or something. He could always hasten another bow, something smaller, or an actual, makeshift target, since his preference didn’t glean towards moving mud. Education, wisdom, and sagacity were always a prominent feature in the monolith’s mind – simply for the sake of being able to defend one’s self.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace
Dante Steelson
Nurse apprentice

Age: 22 | Height: 5'8 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 1 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 12 - Int:
Played by: Dyn Offline
Change author:
Posts: 61 | Total: 134
MP: 0
#6
DANTE
In any other circumstance were he not feeling like a cornered mouse at the whim of a cat he would be all but enthralled with the concept of moving mud. Was it supposed to have free will? Where did it intend to go or did it just... wiggle? Okay, that was kinda gross, really. What would happen if all the moving mud formed a large conglomeration— was Caido at risk for mass mud mayhem?

He can hardly decide who to stare at most between this man in front of him and the mud at his feet. In fact, as his wide eyes flicker between the two, it takes him a moment to register what's being said. He stops his incessant fidgeting to point at himself, just to make sure.

"Wait, me?" Despite the surprise evident in the squeak of his voice he finds himself considering the idea. If he wasn't going to be hunted by the man than perhaps he actually could learn something from his blundering. From what he'd seen of the world then perhaps learning how to handle a weapon wasn't the worst idea. "I've never, uh, held one before. But... Yes?"

To make it up to you
let me spin and excite you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#7
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
“You.” Were this more the Reaper than the Sword, Deimos might have been thoroughly bemused by the alteration in the boy; more intimidating factions, a rigid contortion to his spine, a taut, tethered line of nonchalant, unattainable, unreachable features. But since he’d altered and changed since days of bestial barbarity, he only arched a brow, the deep rumble of his vocals hinting at naught, waiting for either acceptance or refusal. The monolith had no intention of eviscerating the child, even if the notion had contorted its way through his mind earlier, based on snappy, brusque, audacious perceptions – tilting his head a fraction as the youth deliberated.

When he finally agreed, albeit a little less certain of himself moments before (either the bravery and undaunted motions had worn off, or something else had mustered in his speculations), the General maneuvered his bow along his back, freeing up his hands. Within an instant, the gilded glow ricocheted, contorting, creating, a path, a network of configurations and creation, molding, melding, a lighter, smaller bow, eyes lifting towards the boy on a scrutinizing whim, discerning how much to assemble and where he to cease on height differentials. When complete, it was enameled and lacquered in varnishes of sienna and amber, and he handed it over – extending the weapon, the munitions, with no strings attached (except for the bow-thread). No quiver or set of arrows yet either – no sense in coordinating those efforts until the child could actually utilize what he already had. “Test it,” he directed, grabbing his own again, modeling the act of positioning, holding, and drawing the strand back.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace
Dante Steelson
Nurse apprentice

Age: 22 | Height: 5'8 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 1 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 12 - Int:
Played by: Dyn Offline
Change author:
Posts: 61 | Total: 134
MP: 0
#8
DANTE
Dante had never watched anything so intently in his life as he did when the towering man created something out of thin air. He couldn't make heads or tails of the glow that had appeared between his hands, but he didn't need to understand the specifics to be in complete awe when a bow was suddenly being held out to him.

It was certainly gorgeous, and if this was now his, most definitely the nicest thing he owned in this new world. Granted, that wasn't hard to do in either this world or the last.

He's careful as he takes hold of the lacquered bow, watching as the man showcases the correct way to handle such a weapon. It's a quick demonstration but for once he's silent as he does his best to follow the motions. His movements are clumsy for the first go and after a frustrated groan he tries again, reworking his grip on the bow itself and pulling back as far as his arm will let him with three fingers on the string.

"Like this?"

To make it up to you
let me spin and excite you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#9
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
The same semblance of amusement contorted its way through the General, watching the reverence sparking over the boy’s face. His might have been the same when given his first weapon, when militia training finally begun, when the hilt hit his hands, melded into his palms, eventually rendering callouses, so that the pommel eventually felt like home. Then the boy attempted, working the grip, striving and struggling to adjust to the tension – new and cutting, but something a necessary frustration. No judgment remained on his face either, knowing, understanding, comprehending the weight of ignorance in first handling the munitions, how desperately one yearned, longed to convey their capabilities, their abilities, to be something grander, something greater, something feared. On another thought, he created some gloves, and handed those to the youth as well.

“Yes,” he nodded at the inquiry, only making slight adjustments along the bow, straighter, and thereafter, two arrows appeared in his grasp, ready to grant and give to the lad. “Draw it back as far as you can,” he murmured; though more muscles, more power, would have to be instilled, honed, in order to adhere to the best depth – but he also intended to scrutinize the range, explore the possibilities with prowess and potential.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace


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