Welcome to Gaia! ::

My answer is...

→I will always be here.←

She was moving again. Roy's eyes tried to follow her movements, but she was just simply too fast. The next thing he knew, she was right in front of him. He tried to strike back, but found himself face-first into the ground. He was then dragged by the hair (owowowowowow >_o) before the swordmistress threw him up into the air, letting gravity pull him down so that she could prepare a sword swing.

Well...this didn't bode well. But at the same time, it presented an opportunity. Now...if only he could get the timing right.

She had thrown him head-first, so he would probably land feet first. Sword in hand, he swung downwards with a mighty strike (by using gravity to help, of course) to stop her swing. But it didn't end there. Once his sword connected with hers, he immediately swung his foot out to kick her in the chest just moments before landing. The kick would hurt a lot...considering he was wearing steel boots.

As a result of the kick, when he landed, the redhead stumbled backwards. But he recovered well enough (or as best as he could, with his armor and all) with a backwards roll. Once he was back on his feet, he lunged forward with a thrust, hoping to pierce her.

LANCELOT

Could he handle her? He would obliterate her right off the sky! It would take more than some hocus pocus she threw to make him admit defeat. Sure he was beaten, but he wasn’t out of commission to battle.

Lancelot watched his opponent charging straight toward him. So she wanted to play chicken huh? Well, two could play that game. Let’s see if she had the nerve of steel to play this little charade.

He gestured Mordred to charge, raising his spear straight forth. He leaned his body forward, giving his wyvern enough acceleration to speed up. He tightened his grips on the spear, his reins, and his saddle as he tucked his legs firmly around Mordred’s weight. As he got closer to his opponent, he motioned Mordred to perform a barrel roll.

Mordred let out a roar. She folded one of her wings while the other half-folded to spin.

Lancelot held onto his saddle as they performed an aerial spin. It was not easy hanging onto the seat while being upside-down without proper training and experience. Once he was over his opponent’s head, he tried to slash his spear against her wyvern’s shoulder-blade. It would be game over immediately if the wyvern’s wings were clipped.

As he passed Vaida, Lancelot ceased his aerial spinning maneuver and whirled around. He felt something wet tickled down his boot. Looking down, he noticed Mordred had a grazed cut on the side. s**t! That b***h slashed his wyvern. The cut was bad, but not fatal enough to take her off. Good, Mordred could still fight; now to find that b***h.

He looked around. His opponent was nowhere in his sighting area. Where did that b***h go? Lancelot looked down at the ground. Nope, she was nowhere in sight. It looked like he didn’t manage to take her beast off the sky. Well, when he finds her, he’ll make sure her wyvern was clipped. After all, bad karma would always come back to the misfortunate… Come back?

Lancelot turned his head around to see a javelin heading toward him. s**t! So his opponent was behind him. He nudged Mordred to dive down. Mordred spread her wings and tilted her head down. He quickly lowered his head, barely having his head pierced by the flying weapon. That was a close call. It seemed Lady Luck was on his side at that time.

He urged Mordred to whirl around, readying his spear to attack. He then charged forward again toward his opponent and saw an arrow shooting at her. Where did that arrow come from?

Suddenly, he heard a familiar shout. Of course, it was Esmeralda. He should’ve figured- she meddled. It was what she was good at, for better or for worse. Whether it was her wrinkling her nose at his garlic, threatening to stamp out his burning locks of sage due to them being 'a fire hazard to everyone in camp'... She just couldn't keep her nose out of his business.

He resisted the urge to smirk at it- thinking of frivolities like that in the middle of combat usually wasn't his style. She'd gone and interfered yet again, and this time without even meaning to! With a noise that was halfway between a chuckle and a groan, he steeled his nerves and shifted his attention back to the dangers at hand.

Lancelot nudged Mordred to speed up as he leaned his body forward again. As he came closer, he urged his wyvern to dive slightly lower, sending him underneath his opponent’s wyvern. Once he saw the wyvern’s belly exposed, he quickly tried to slash it, only to have another arrow nearly shoot Mordred’s wing.

Mordred most definitely did not appreciate the intervention, and nearly bucked off her rider out of sheer panic. With a shriek and a very indignant look (one that lasted less than half a second, thankfully), Mordred and Lancelot alike expressed some pretty violent disapproval before turning their backs to the sniper.

“Hey, watch where you’re shooting that thing!” Lancelot yelled at the sniper as he flew passed Vaida and gained altitude up. “Get out of here, you idiot!”

...Was that concern?

He told himself 'no'.

All while his subconscious laughed in his face.

[Emergency has come up, leaving a placeholder of some kind!

Basic outline of post, Neros is hit by the arrow and tumbles into the dirt, and makes to fly away from danger with wind magic. Hooray!]

Interestingly enough, one of the mounted enemies, substantially more armored than the common horse unit, was charging towards the Fire Dragon, axe raised in hand. Both more decorated than the other soldiers and the first to attempt to ‘strike,’ he appeared to be a leader or commander of some sort. Was he really brave or really stupid? Or both? A few of his men followed in suit, charging towards the dragon as their leader was, but as was to be expected, the majority of steeds didn’t approach. All of them, whether they were approaching or not, harmoniously shouted “For Archanea” however. Their damned battle cry would attract the attention of anyone nearby – even on the other side of the wall if they were close enough, more than likely. But maybe he could get them to shut their mouths if they saw just what FD was capable of doing to them, even without using his signature fiery attack. His claws could puncture armor after all, and while he didn’t like to drag out the suffering of his opponents if it could be avoided (death by Flametongue was pretty quick, even if excruciating), this was a war. The dragon took his right fore paw and swatted one of the later and slower Great Knights to come after him right against the very wall he had come through and then took one of left claws to crash down into the rider and steed after they hit the ground, snarling all the while at the soldiers whose steeds hadn’t approached FD. When he retracted his left claws, you could see they’d been dipped in blood that stuck out in contrast with the snow. What would their mounts do now, after witnessing that? The attacks of those who FD didn’t take out were negligible enough. Mmost of their weapons would bounce right off of his large, hardened scales. Those that didn’t would fail to be of much success given that their riders were moving as they attacked, preventing them from successfully penetrating and continuing to move forward. The dragon slammed his tail about on the ground once he figured enough time had passed for some of the Great Knights to have made it past him – just one more thing to worry about for them.

Meanwhile, from the outside of one of the openings in the wall, troops were thrusting Javelins at the Fire Dragon’s side. As with most melee weapons, most slid off of FD onto the ground, although a two or three managed to stand in place on the dragon. This was getting to be a bit much deal with all at once for the dragon. And if enemies were attacking him from outside of the wall without entering, it would be soon become obvious where FD was located – which would mean the people who had cast Bolting would… time for FD to move again!

Fire Dragon wasted no time in getting away from the spot he was in – he was launching himself towards the slew of Great Knights who hadn’t attacked him, taking a pair of them out of commission as their steeds scattered. FD would have a tough time turning around given how the size of the streets in comparison to his body, but there wasn't necessarily a rush to do so for now.

Milan arched her eyebrow. How was he able to cut her attack after having his head shoved to the ground and being dragged? He should have a headache or a bleeding head concussion; ergo, being vulnerable to her icicle attack. Either the boy was more than what he appeared to be or his writer must have given him the condition incidence. Well, no matter, she just needed to finish this to get back to her General’s side.

She sprinted forth as the boy landed to the ground (Really, how she to launch her frosted crescent attack in close range?) She swung her leg at the same time the boy swung his foot, stopping their kicks in mid-air. She could feel the throbbing in her leg when being connected, but she didn’t stop her attacks yet.

Once she stopped the boy’s kick, she quickly dropped her leg and swung her blade, slicing the boy’s ankle. That should make the boy immobilized.

She watched as the boy tumbled backward before sprinted toward him, closing the space between them. That boy was a sitting duck for good. But as she got closer, she saw the boy lunged. That surprised her.

Milan quickly stopped her sprint, receiving a grazed cut on her thigh from his sword. She winced a bit. It stung her as she backed away. How sloppy of her. She had only made the boy half immobilized as well as cutting his speed. Well then, guess she had to clean up her mess then.

She sprung for the third time toward the boy. She then lunged out series of slashes, trying to force the boy into a kneeling position. When her blade connected with his sword on the last strike, she performed a powerful coupé and pierced into his chestplate. Whether she penetrated his armor, she didn’t know. However, just to be sure, Milan used her Ice Blade power.

“It’s over.”Milan spoke, pushing her blade into his armor. Ice quickly formed over the chestplate. If the lord managed to escape her attack, he may have saved himself from an icy coffin imprisonment. However, with frosting attire, that would cut down his speed again.
____________________________________________

I want someone to notice now...

Because I want to get out of here

So he finally got to his senses and goddess forbid he had to talk like this. Through weapons no less. But at least...with this...Cyric can end the war and this entire battle would end. However, what Caesar did was no excuse to what has happened to Estarcia. It would take months, perhaps years to get the entire area back up on its feet. "If you wish to go home, I can help you. But you cannot use the Fire Emblem by itself" That was one information the sorceress did not tell them. "There is...one thing...that sorceress did not tell you." Cyric began, he couldn't believe he was going to say this, but if they truly wanted to go home, then he would help. But not through trickery or some other mumbo jumbo the world decided to go against him about. "The priestess's help is required for the Fire Emblem to work"

He stood silent for a moment then finally, latched the bow to the side of his saddle and dis-mounted from Ronan. "However..I do hope you forgive me ahead of time for this" Cyric warned, watching Caesar with the most confused look on his face until...

WHAM

All this time, the anger Cyric had bottled up had been delivered in one single punch to the face (Cheekbone to be precise) of the Archanean General. The forced was strong enough to knock the heavy general back a couple steps, quite possibly knocking him down to the ground. Cyric glared, pointing a finger at him. "Let that be a lesson to that hard-head of yours! Before you decide to invade a country in an unknown land you know nothing about, have nothing to do with! The least one can do is investigate further before you decide to throw an attack at innocent people!" The captain took a deep breath then let that out and continued. "You want to return home? Fine, We can help, but not through the influence of this war!"

Sure, he said that he'd help them, but a lecture was called for. After all......if anybody was in the silver knight's shoes, they would know just how cranky their captain was. Gone to battle twice, come back for a meeting, haven't slept for 3 days straight, then thrown into the main battle. You try dealing with all this mumbo jumbo and not want to punch this guy in the face after wards.

After a moment, Cyric calmed down and rubbed his face. Now that that was done and otu of the way. What's say we end this stupid war, hm?

"Now that we are in agreement..how about we stop this petty war?"