06/07/2023 12:22 AM  An Artist of War.          Peace be with this artist soon to enrich a canvas. Breathe in the free air, fair with a touch of foul. In a steel house keeping harm at bay, let the maiden rest and awaken the warrior. Mask away Venus. Make way for Mars. Out with her trusted brush, a slender sharp fang. The often silver blade above the well-gripped hilt is changing into a luminous ink of red and black—moving like the surface of a clear lake stroked by a breeze.      Behind the steel mask, those deep blue eyes are gazing ahead at the large canvas she must paint. At the dawn of the coming hour, she must commit without falter to the artistry she has been bred to perform with near-perfection for many years. It has been ages since she last gave a rousing performance. And so, duty calls again. Her talent for a respective art is of the utmost need. To her undying gratitude, this deed is not only her burden but those alongside her, several hundreds strong.    “We are with you, dear Kimiko,” encouraged a disembodied voice of a nearby gentleman garbed in tattered gray. In his right hand is a longsword ready to bring into life beautiful brushtrokes of his own.    “As I am with you, til my last breath,” spilled the steel-clad lady. Within her helm comes a light smile. But she then replaces that brief moment of joy with listless focus.    Breathe in deeply; bring the inhibitions into slumber. The art requires no doubt from her, no hesitation. Confidence and conviction are better for her actions to be imbued with and accompanied by.    An armored fellow yards to her left loudly yells for their company to charge. Slim brows beneath the helm furrow. The single-edge blade is held with both hands, the tip slanted down before the artist. Her allies sprint ahead with nary a restrain from their body and spirit, boots, paws and hooves. The roar of advancement is paired with the nearing canvas. It is far from blank with rows of swords and spears held by malformed iron-clad creatures aching to tear them to shreds, even feast on their flesh.    The need to lessen the strain of the front row who will deal with the upcoming barrage prompts a mighty forward leap from the steel maiden. Up she goes, the armored artist! While aloft as a bird, she swings to the back of her neck that sharp brush. The red and black ink are stirring like a kindled bonfire, thoroughly coating the long blade. Her eyes are eagles upon the field of monstrosities below the likes she once cowered in fear and had been prey to. This time, they are her prey.    Heartbeat is running wild. Her legs coil in. Her chest twists. Between peace and wrath, her spirit floats still. Refine what rage will be soon unleashed. Ensure those brushstrokes will be sharp, steady and superb. Another deep breath is drawn, her skipping heart going mild and... R e l e a s e .    Kimiko performs a spiral dance in the air, sweeping her blade away twice with the lowest end of the curved path pointed at the charging foes. The red and black ink extends away into two giant strokes of thick smoke with the bludgeoning force of hurricane winds. Thunder crackles across the plains! Apart from carving well onto the earth, what wretches that were caught by the sudden wall of smoke were smashed out of their posture, many even losing their footing completely. Exposed hides have been blessed with deep wounds and surfaces are set ablaze—the flames black as shadows and red as blood. Shrieks of pain air out, joining war cries and hundreds in haste to make their mark on the battlefield.    The fellow in gray owes it to Kimiko to have the first blood on their side. Seeing the steel-clad lady indescent, he leaps ahead to aim himself beneath her in an attempt to offer a higher platform and break her long fall. Kimiko looks down to see this miraculous mass of gray that her feet can land sooner than the plains beneath. Alas, she misses by a foot! But fret not for her dear ashen ally extends a hand. She reaches for it with her free hand as she almost plummets past him.    T h u d ! Kimiko gasps at the triumph of being caught by him! The pace of her descent drops. The ground quickly approaches to which one from their company riding a large beast quickly takes notice while charging ahead. He has the four-legged creature leap up and, on its back, the blow of their fall is further softened. They land down, all safe and sound, still onward to engage in the conflict.    “Beautifully done, Lady Kimiko!” happily snarled the beast-rider after returning to gallop ahead. The creature is guided to swerve right and left, avoiding smashing through or stumbling upon their allies.    Kimiko does not say a thing but offers a nod. Both she and her friend in gray hop out of the beast to not burden their comrade any further. The rest of their company flood the plain around them. Their foes who had the pleasure of being painted by such a powerful and painful palette from Kimiko’s brush lie on the battlefield for easy picking. The merciless stomps upon their fallen bodies and the swords, spears and axes down on their limbs free of armor are crisp. Ghastly gurgling snarls and widening eyes are their response, those fiends.    The man in grey, her beloved mentor and the closest she has for a father, gives the steel-maiden a pat of gratitude on her left-side pauldron. He soon sprints ahead to be at the front of the line. Kimiko keeps her blade close before her and soon pursues him to partake. Duty is far from done. Her allies around her rush ahead to paint the canvas as well with their own brushes.    On the battlefield, all of them are artists in their own right. Together, they bring mural of the macabre alive. The art demands of them all, their dedication to decide who shall stand last and left to gaze well upon the aftermath of their work. A R / 7 3 6 2 9   0 Comments

07/29/2022 05:21 PM  𝐄𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝐖𝕒𝕣 𝐀𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝. ~Writing Entry.~     Enter: War Angel The Old Domains. Time left before The Fall: Unknown.     { For real, fam, this music track was what 100% deadass inspired me to write this. xD }   Drop down from the darkness beyond! A heavenly body pierces through the sea of clouds in the later morn of this world. Exceed the speed of sound thricefold! The plummeting piece comes with neither glee nor grievance. If it was not for this gleaming star-forged ensemble garbing well flesh and bone, pain of the grinding gales and the tormenting trauma from this freefall would be crushing. It, truly a lovely she, is peach-fleshed Venus with shadow silk tresses and curves befitting a captivating goddess. She has been sent in this faraway marble by dire demand to bring the will of Mars. And bring it, she will with celestial zest. Hers. May her advent be timely enough. Past the vast, hazy, white thicket, her dark blue pearls concealed in an opaque glass-like helm can make sense of the brown canvas below. It seems teeming with quite the ruckus down there. Little springing dots move about signify life. Each is acting out of valor, malice or simply the right to live. Voices growled and bellows come with fear or ferocity. Limbs sway to assert aggression or sustain self-defense. Steel and bone clash. There are thousands of them, these dots. Some already fell. Mangled corpses stomped or piled on without rhythm. This has gone for hours. A conflict long past warm words to resolve. In truth, this was inevitable. The shining spot falling down is seen by a warrior who successfully knocks a foe down. Confirm with a crunch of blade down slipping past an opening between bulks of iron. Gurgle away those last breath, fiend! Spill blood, a weak fountain bursting out of such disgusting pair of lips. Rattle away the futility of being defeated until through limbs that can no longer hold a once stab-happy spear. Free up now stained blade! His eyes are quick but keen upon the anomaly coming down rather fast from the cloudy heavens. The battle around the mindful winner of a brief one-on-one skirmish keeps on raging. Allies around him push back the tide of brutality wielding melon-sized hammers that can break bones with ease or scarlet-soaked swords and spears that can tear through flesh. Humble green eyes are as busy as the rest of this competent sowrdsman. Glee is brewing within. Hope too. The exhausted owner of those stargazers knows what this single glimmering strand still in its descent could mean. “R-Raido!” shouted an Elven woman with a stern voice towards the gawking fellow. She gives an Orc-like foe with bad teeth a sharp kiss of her boot, leading to its harsh downfall. Downward sword of her own makes love on the throat. Crunch! “Is that wha... who I think it is?!” It appears she is also seeing what he is seeing. A short bloke of Dwarfish stature and in heavy armor joins after smashing the head of a snarling combatant who failed to lunge with the intent to kill. Assure that it is down for the count and break that ugly mug with a follow-up smash. He quickly joins the man and the lady Elf in their sudden chat. “What the hell is that?!” Behind a cloth mask, gray as the rest of the rags he is wearing, concealing his vigorous body. Pruned lips etch away a confident smile. “C a v a l r y .” A few miles above the battle-busy earth, steel-clad Venus is ready to bring forth a gospel. In her nerves, it writhes. The itch to partake in this festivity for the fierce. But with what she brings with her, will there be any left? “We better keep our distance before she her descent finally ends,” advised the Grey One to his battle-friends within earshot. The She-Elf giggles. “I could not agree more, darling,” she retorted. Both the She-Elf and the He-Dwarf, also a few others, shout with gusto to alert nearby allies. “War-Mates! If you value what is left with your lives, fall back! Fall back! The Gospel cometh!” They hope that the message can be passed well enough. To their fortune, allies are paying attention even if busy with the vital task of keeping lethal limb-lashings at bay. Raido, the Grey One, turns around. He rushes to then use his right shoulder and what might he has in him to give grief towards a large thick-hide behemoth now before him. Never mind that: leap ahead and smash! It falls down hard and squashes a few dreglings behind it. This makes better passage for his war-mates to be more distant—hopefully so—before the Cavalry drops. Hearts are pounding. The thrill of what is to come invigorates them, these warriors! The three battle-bred bipeds are fending off what harm they can while quick on their feet themselves. Lungs are burning, but the sting of each draw to keep nerves and muscles committed to their hasty deed is worth it. “When was the last you had that darling do this?” “Shy of a decade, maybe. It was glorious though she needed so much work to refine her artistry of this ilk. I have highest hopes that her learning has been sharp.” The He-Dwarf heartily laughs, already drunk from excitement in the details given to him while preoccupied. “I love me some fireworks! Let Lady Kimiko garnish these putrid planes with glorious Star Fire!” “Agreed! But let us make sure all are within the bosom of safety first. Perhaps better, we should gather as much of our foes within a line where it will hurt them the most.” “Right!” Raido’s friends concurred. Roar, wild winds. Inside the immaculate steel, the silent lady ponders on a prayer. It is meant to awaken a well-earned gift from farthest stars. A few seconds after her wordless whisper began, a pearl blaze is surrounding her. Right hand opens. So soon, a red-fabric hilt takes form for her to firmly grasp on. Zoom forth to be revealed an oval crossguard and a moonlight-silver blade that come with the gripped tool. Three pairs of wide pale seraphic wings fashioned from stardusts make themselves known behind her back. They hover and dangle as if slaves to the troublesome tempest. Minutes had flown by. Raido and the rest are quite confident that much of their allies are away. Hopefully, all of them. The battlefield remains swarmed by many foes. They corral much of them around the massive perimeter of their war-mates. Weapons, limbs and concussive mysticism are used to make sure they stay inside. They are fodders to the Gospel. A long loud choir of whistles fill the air. The hasty Venus, now just hundreds of yards above the battlefield, fancies a forward twirl or two—maybe three. The feat is meant for the sake of flaunted grace than it is a practical deed. Let her have a bit of fun. She readies the enchanted blade now held with two hands by the handle. Sword pointed down on the earth below riddled with spilled blood and lifeless corpses. Her breath wafts a bit of her womanly voice. Dash down with the haste of Mercury! A mighty jolt makes the air crackle with a rich thunderous clap as the speed of sound is broken! Raido and the rest watch from the foe-fending distance a few miles away. The Grey One cannot help but feel... proud. “Hairu, Sensō no Tenshi.” ( Enter, War Angel. ) Kimiko kisses the battlefield floor—down on her right knee, sword driven down inches past the hard earth and pale radiant wings up spread wide. The ground beneath her collapses in a blink of an eye! Her fall fashions a deep crater in a flash with a stretch and depth of a small lake. Nearby foes are knocked away from this devastating drop! F L A S H ! Within a split second, the nearest star may have just been terrifyingly close for the sight of all to see. The very incandescent glow could gouge their eyes out! Under the first second since her descent, all within a given range succumbs to a hyper-violent pull! Even Raido and the rest gets tugged yards forward into this cosmic vortex. “Shiiiiiit!” exclaimed the He-Dwarf as he is pulled in for a bit. A few of their allies nearby lend enough of their strength to hold him down as they weigh themselves down as well. Raido stabs his long sword on the ground to bolt himself in place. Green eyes marvel at the power his prized student is about to unleash. War-mates do their very best not to be victims of this great devouring force. A wide waltz of blazing colors—blue, rosy pink, violet, white and yellow—explodes out in cyclonic chaos from the epicenter: Kimiko herself! Thousands lifted up in the air cry out in their helplessness. ROAR! A callous choir of a hundred proud dragons gives no room for silence in making the air quake from a thunderous symphony. Storm winds push outward and away to all directions. The effervescent exhibition brings with it... heavenly harm. Long zooming and spiraling sashes of lacerating lights spread out—fast-blooming roots they are, going around and through the lifted horde tugged and then expelled to rob them all of footing. Cries become screams of agony as their insides boil. Nerves feel corrosive acid and scorching rivers of the sun. They burn and turn to mere embers as their atoms are denied the right of integrity to make them what lump of a living thing they are. Not worthless. Simply unable to reject the unchallenged will of cosmic fury Kimiko brought with her. “I would not want to provoke her ire on a bad day,” complimented the She-Elf. Even she feels a bit of dread though the excitement of seeing divine power in action overshadows it. Raido simply nods. The allies keep the enclosing line firm as their foes are incinerated by this swirling storm of celestial scorch. A feat Kimiko can only do every now and then. It may take quite some time before she can perform this. “Truly divine.” snarled a fellow in a silver helm while slowly clapping. This single-party audience is on a mountain top further from the rest of the great battlefield. Only a fool would deny that such plains are not woefully under the influence of cosmic judgment let loose by a petite lady in star-forged armor. He is a foe of the War Angel and her allies, this spectator. But he is also a fan of her... pernicious proverbs. “To free a fearsome Beast out from such a fair Beauty once too feeble. Good form, Sir Raido. Good form. The Gospel is great. The War Angel herself graces us with her presence. May your strength and fury endure throughout this conflict. Do not disappoint me, Lady Kimiko. Or the nightmares from your past will descend and prey upon you again ever so dearly as they did long ago when you were just... a young tramp.” Perhaps, the spectator has a past with her. A former patron of a service, a sinful and personal one. One she herself took part plenty but with an ever-growing well of regret within. The winds calmed. Dirt and dust begin to settle. Kimiko is deserving of a deep breath or two. Her vitality feels plundered by this single deed to display such power. Glowing ash fills the ground for miles. The smell of hot iron and steel is everywhere. Weapons and armors were most of the survivors from the heavenly hurricane that only lasted a good minute. There is barely a corpse beyond roasted that can be seen. The fragrance of the fallen and the foul reeks on the plains gifted with a crater spawned from divine wrath. The battle also begins resumes again with whoever—whatever—is left to do battle on. As long as they can still squirm about, they will fight. The stakes are dire, especially for those who value the lives and freedom of others more than their own. The gents and lady-Elf rise to their feet. Duty is far from down. More foes still live to give grief to allies. Rise with grace, War Angel. Make scarce, radiant wings. Sword off the ground. Swing it swiftly to the right. The advent hath ended. Taking part... a must. “...Made it.”   0 Comments

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04/09/2022 04:51 PM  Trouble at Twilight ~Writing Entry.~            Enrich eager ears with thunderous tenors by tall terrors. The steel bucket meant to house well the glamorous face of a young Venus was yanked out from a recent monstrous rampage. Perhaps later, that sturdy bowl that has been shielding her from lacerations will be retrieved. It will be of great use for many more of her future exploits, after all.    The small band of colossi the war-maiden has been battling for quite some time has barely given her room to breathe more than just a few seconds. Their agility and reach may bring a heap of suffering, madness and a gruesome death to the inexperienced and the poorly-prepared. However, she has been holding them off well on her own. As often as she can, she has been providing them further sorrow with each vicious cut onto their thick hides and any semblance of blunt-force trauma.    Now, a mad flurry of long greasy arms with massive claws shaped like reversed falchions dance forward to deliver devastation upon the damsel. Spell away certain letters with swift strokes of the steel in both hands. Such a sharp partner in battle was finely forged and gifted with divine properties to match her own ferocity. With it, she may better waltz with great warriors, gods and demons, let alone monsters with no hesitation for sheer violence.    Deflect the flesh-tearing, bone-breaking barrage with little to no room for mistakes or be a pretty corpse too soon. She steps back if needed upon each swing to intervene. Her feet are kept apart, doing her best to avoid having her posture broken so easily. Bone and steel are quickly kissing each other. Bright flashes of yellow and orange are making short-lived fireworks with each collision. The loud notes of both brutal swiping and skillful parrying are rhythmic and sharp.    Bluish-gray pillars that stood centuries ago have been reduced into tree stumps, whether from the elements or the fiendish bunch. Some of those once-standing monoliths are leveled as piles of rubble on the far-left and far-right edges of a great marble flooring plagued with cracks and fissures; the latter structure is vast enough to fill it with more than 300 men. If her growing exhaustion takes its toll that blocking and evading harm becomes a harrowing task, this will be her resting place or, worse, a banquet hall of the brutes beneath the twilight canvas.    Another of the colossal cretins is strolling forward as soon as the final strike of the flurry is swatted away by the war-maiden. Those dark blue eyes of hers take notice of a bulk slowly advancing closer tens of yards behind this beast before her that is now taking a few several steps of retreat. But before that first nudge back of its huge slouched form, the bottom of one of her boots bestows upon its nearby snout a quick cruel kiss. It barks out a vexed growl before moving further away in a stumble. The maiden sings a fleeting giggle, backing away herself.    The single-edged blade is laid flat before her alluring face, the long cutting lenth facing the sky where stars are more visible than they were when the battle began. The hilt is gripped with the gesture of a bard who’s about to play the flute. The sickening snarls do little to scare her. She carefully strafes left, watching them waddle about like a tiny band of big buffoons.    The latest oncoming creature leaps ahead with one of its long arms swung back. Upon its descent, it is inevitable that a powerful slam of its hand shall follow to knock her down and maybe horribly wound her with its monstrous claws. The Venus in steel plate commits to a single hearty hop back before the arched path of the flailed limb reaches its peak heading forward. Slam! The solid slab that her feet left from becomes a small crater, thanks to those massive sword-like claws along with the might of the beast. Dust and tiny pebbles blast away, some washing her face and leaving her to look away just for a second, even peppering her silky black hair in a tight bun.    But then comes an opportunity as she regain a clear-enough vision. An opening. The young lady leaps forward to stomp down and bury nearly a foot-length of her blade on the back of the creature’s earth-shattering hand. What enchantment the sword is granted with provides a more vicious entry into this horrid thing now beneath her steel boots.    It shrieks loudly from pain, trying to yank its arm back and away to forcibly release the cruel steel dug into its thick hide. Muddy green blood is spilling out of the well-delivered wound she gave it. The blade does not budge, nor does the young Venus that buried it. Those wrists of hers twist, so too the steel. The hateful howl from its gaping maw with rows of razor-sharp fangs is music to her ears. Her ego peeks out through a faint smirk on her pale rosy lips.    Before the rest of the large cretins can come closer, the war-maiden sees it fit to grant a bigger boon of barbarism upon this bothered beast, maybe even worse. She violently rips away her sword from the impalement. The blade is stained well by the greenish muck that flows in its wretched veins. The sharp edge flies in a great crescent path forward, cutting through the big oval-shaped head of the injured foe. It quickly winces away which reveals its broad neck ever so close to her. The wounded hand lifts up and away but not before she steps out of such a putrid platform.    She minds the small crater, putting her aided feet back on a flat patch of the great floor. Before the big fiend can move any further, she steps forward and issues two ferocious slashes upon its neck, a lady-like roar to go with each swift stride of her sword. A downward fountain of its noxious green blood vomits out of the long wounds. Its monstrous growl is far less passionate compared to the ones the rest are filling the free air with. The lady steps back, slightly bathed from this revolting paint from one of the terrors that may soon join the first one that she slew several minutes before deflecting that latest flurry of claws. It gurgles away its last breath as it plops down, twitching about until it becomes as still as the stone floor it is lying on.    The sun is setting. Darkness asserts more of its dominance. While she can still fight even if quite worn down from having to cut the life out of two of these hulking creatures and fending off the rest, the lack of light will be a hardship. She came to this place past a city of trees too late into the day to settle a score with these foul beings. Alas, she is ill-equipped to keep the darkness at bay if the battle endures past dusk. Her sorcery is mostly dedicated to inflict harm as well as shielding herself from harm. She has medicine, but no tools to act as an alternative to sunlight should the latter leave her. Even with her forthcoming boldness, a fool can still become of the young miss.    Two more of these monsters to deal with. Her wisdom is now being challenged. Retreat for the next round or persevere and be done with it. Both that are left soon roar and then gallop ahead with a bloodthirsty fetish towards the young dauntless Venus. She wipes the vile blood of the slain from her face, cools her lungs with a sharp breath, swipes away the muck on her sharp blade, and then sprints in a serpentine path towards the greasy colossi.    As nightfall persists into recurring certainty, her strength indeed wanes further. The sun sets ceaselessly and the conflict still goes on. Dear Kimiko must make haste and use the remaining daylight to end the fight. Be wise with each action taken as she is getting closer to her mortal limit. Bravery should not lead one to stray into a blunder. With her commitment aimed forward, either she will leave as a tired victor or stay as a lovely dinner to evil. /  7  3  6  2  9     0 Comments

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12/31/2020 02:53 AM  Surrounded. ~Sample Entry.~ Rest escapes the beauty drowning in unease. The unease is manifested as a cruel crowd around her, engulfing her though yards away in all directions. Repulsive grinning from their horrid teeth filed into fangs suggests something sinister. A dark intent lurks in their blackened hearts, waiting to be unleashed upon the languishing lass. Her doubt is stemming from her blatant inability to defeat them, only keeping them at bay enough. The doubt is growing. Strength and fortitude once Olympian is spent from seconds slipping into obscurity. The next swing of her trusted blade may not be so well to ward off harm should it come forth with unbridled passion. The joyous horde is thrilled to see their prey no longer having the same vigor she did when the battle began. Snarls, jolting limbs, swords and spears at the ready, they chip away the bravery tempered into the psyche of this woman. Inch by inch, they draw closer. The gap between this greasy swarm and its lovely meal in the middle lessens. They taunt their food with false jabs of their tainted iron and cold howls from their foul mouths. Her armor is breaking and not necessarily the worn-out steel she is adorned in. Little heart gallops. They wriggle lively within her, the doubt and the dread. These companions, she can do without. But damn this moment, they are... persistent. Whispering into her ears with the help of the gleeful growls from the creatures that are eager to pillage the joy and pleasure out of her. Defilement and horror. They are what awaits this weakened maiden should she succumb to failure. A terrible moment forcing her to recall an old, sharp, bitter memory that pushed her drive to become stronger. To be brave. Her courage, it is being stripped from her, bit by bit. Her porcelain face, rather angelic even if smeared with dirt and a bit of scratch on her cheeks, shows on the tiniest of wrinkles and in faintest twitches what brews within. Frustration. Disgust. Fear. The vindictive look her dark blue eyes brings upon this horde of evil is but a mask to conceal despair nibbling on her from within. It cannot end like this. A meal. A corpse in the making. Or worse. Far worse. With what she saw in the depths of their lair, what they were doing to their captives. Her blood is trapped in a blizzard from such shameless barbarism. Kimiko must escape this foul place, this looming swarm with blackness ready to be enacted—gladly so. These cretins can overpower a small band of warriors by the strength of their numbers, let alone this lonesome swordmaiden. And what an outlandish count they have. With her own might diminishing more and more, what hope does she have but to brave this wave until she paves a path enough to fly well into safety? Muster what will and wits are left. Either she slashes and smashes her way until she is troubled no more or trouble shall devour her, one way or another. It cannot end, not like this. 0 Comments

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