Board Thread:Other Roleplay/@comment-4998588-20151004224052/@comment-64.82.204.2-20151007154022

[I'm terribly sorry about not coming in sooner. I swear, there's either something up with wikia or the location I'm trying to post from.]


 * The Iron Citadel makes for an imposing sight, sitting atop a frozen plateau with darker walls of stone and steel contrasting heavily against the white, powdery snow that covered its various rooftops, courtyard, and balconies. Its interior was a rather sharp contrast in itself, with well-kept corridors and interior chambereds made for the comfort of its most important inhabitants.

It is within one such chamber that Emperor Phillip I resides, standing in front of a large mirror. Clothes and cosmetics cover that which lies underneath--semi-transparent grey. Although he can hide his condition... he can't hide his exhaustion. It was small at first, in the later years of his condition, but slowly it grew. All these years he had been out of death's reach, yet now he can feel himself fading... of course, the Empire of Steel can't survive without a leader.

He doesn't have to worry, does he?

No... his lineage is secure, if somewhat unorthodox. With time, his daughter will soon be ready for the responsibilities she'll have to take after he's gone... hopefully. Time brings unexpected circumstances and effects at the worst of times... but no, he can't worry. He must remain confident, and be strong for both his nation and for Lucia... the heiress to his empire.*

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 * Lucia holds her ser sword at the ready... The young vixen "animatronic" shifts her stance a little while her opponent stands across the room with an unyielding stare of concentration in his eyes. A voice rings out--not of either duelist, but by a third participant standing on the semi-existent sidelines.*

BEGIN!


 * The young heiress draws her sword back in preparation, advancing as the steelman across from her does. What follows is a fairly simple series of strikes and blocks, wrists flicking and blades swung about in parries, thrusts, and hard swings. For a few moments, she manages to hold--then an unexpectedly forceful swing shoves her to the ground. The other duelist simply walks back to his initial position, standing at attention. Lucia gets back up, returns to her own initial position and follows suit. It isn't long before the voice--that of her bodyguard and swordfighting instructor: an steelman by the name of Hugo--yells out once more.*

AGAIN!


 * She's faring well, but she still has a ways to go. Hugo just observes the duels silently, searching for weaknesses requiring rectification or strengths needing continued development. He is a tactful man--gentle when necessary--but when training is the event of the hour, there are no excuses. There is no exemption from critique. There is only a buisness-like seriousness and work to improve. Always improving--that is a vital part of life. One must continue to improve in order to face ever-growing challengers... they're always out there somewhere, and it is his duty to ensure that the heiress is ready to hold her own.*

AGAIN!


 * ...It's a work in progress...*

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 * Bruno quietly monitors the horizon ahead of him. Miles and miles of snow-covered fields--probably not the case farther South as it should be warmer--lay before him. A great wall of mountains--and the main pass through--stand about half a mile behind him. As odd as it was, he liked standing out in this deadly cold, just watching the horizon... there was a strange charm about the silence--save of course, for the wind when violent blizzards passed through--that drew him.

He wasn't the only one curious about what lay South of the imperial territories... the area was vastly unexplored--the only truly reliable maps were old physical diagrams preserved during the collapse... all else was unknown. Who--or what--was there? Was there anyone or anything there at all?.. The answers to such mysteries lay southwards, of course--and so far there was neither travel to nor contact with anyone--or thing--beyond 5 miles from the southernmost peaks... But he cannot linger on such things. He has a long trip back to the Iron Citadel--the heiress will be having her shooting lessons in little more than an hour.*