In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
[attr="class","shadowsTitle"] Grand [break] Knights
[attr="class","shadowsBody"]
[attr="class","shadowsHead"] Graveyard Roundup
While not entirely unheard of on the isle of Grýnd, several graves in the local graveyard have been hit shortly after the burial of several young fishermen that did not survive an Ekhidnae attack. With several limbs snapped off and a good amount of ribs missing, the locals already established it to be the work of a Vatnshagur, likely a fairly young one as the older and more clever ones tend to sift through the graves in the settlements, rather than going straight for Ragnvald's Fall. As most believe the Vatnshagur bring pestilence and famine, the Villtsung want someone to go and get rid of the beast before it go about its rituals and make itself too powerful. Not daring to go themselves, believing they might bring with them a curse of infertility to their households, it falls upon you to take care of the issue.
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[attr="class","shadowsSub"]Details
Maximum Number of Players: 3 [break]Minimum Word Count: 4500 [break]Location: Dagmar's Mire [break]Special Requirements: Seek the beast out in Dagmar's Mire, find her lair and destroy her bone pile either before or after killing her. Destroying the bone pile prior to fighting her weaknes her considerably.
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]NPC Information
What NPCs are in this mission? Please fill out the template for any notable NPCs. While those you have to socially interact with during the mission are not required, any enemy that is presented in the mission must be listed here.
Health Limit: Grand [break]Mana Skin: Grand (deactivated by destroying bone pile) [break]Physical Speed: 15 m/s [break]Physical Damage: Grand (Senior when bone pile destroyed) [break]Magic Element and Types: Blood & Bone | Attack Creation and Hex&Curse [break]Combat Style: The Vatnshagur uses a mixture of bone as well as blood magic to attack her enemies, though there is a catch to it. Her bone magic stems from her connection to her bone pile, meaning if it were to be destroyed, she loses access not only to her bone magic, but also to her ability to place hexes and curses on her foes. [break]Additional Information: This Vatnshagur has recently moved into this area of the mire when a bunch of Drukknari moved into it a few months prior. Because the carrion feeders and general troublemakers tend to be blamed for most of the issues in the area, most would not go any further than that, thus shifting the blame so she can keep going about her rituals and bone gatherings up until the point where she becomes stronger enough to snatch living targets.
The journey back to Port Njord from the cliff-rich beach region where the fishermen had been assaulted and harassed by the Skrýtinn had been a long one, though it had allowed him to get his headspace in order, and for his head to get back into the game. It was no small thing for him to be back here, helping people he had more or less villainized in his mind for the past five or six years. And they had been villainized for good reason, for how could anyone normalize things like slavery of other people, toss their bodies in a swamp because they didn’t like dealing with the fallout and had a society that revolved around killing and stealing to survive. Now that he was a little bit older, he understood that a land soaked in brine was horrible for growing produce or keeping cattle, though there had to be other ways.
But maybe they were just so set in their ways that violence was more or less the only consistent thing about their society and culture. It was far from his job to try and make people think differently as he had very much been part of that problem, and still utilized the same violent problem solving skills now that he was a magic knight. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe violence was just the universal language everyone spoke and understood, regardless of their race, age, gender or standing in society. Thoughts like those in which he could gradually lose himself while trying to find an answer were one of the many boons of his mind, things that made such long and lonesome walks as the one he had been on more bearable. But now that he had once again set foot inside of Port Njord, there was no room for such idle thoughts and internal conversations between him and himself anymore.
For the Port Njord he had grown up in had always been a violent and inhospitable place, especially after dark. For once the mead began flowing, the axes and blades came out, and the blood would flow just as readily as the mead had at the start of the evening. Not really looking forward to getting caught up in any kind of fights or killings as such things would besmirch his role here as a magic knight, the boy held but two things close to his heart right now. One was to inform the man that had requested his aid that the Skrýtinn issue had been taken care of so that he could get to point two, paying for a room in the tavern and sleeping until late into the next day. That way, the chances of running into any trouble while he awaited the portal to be opened up and ferry him back to Clover were kept as low as possible.
But it being as low as possible didn’t mean zero. Moving throughout the port, he heard a bunch of people talking with one another about some of the issues they were facing. Some spoke of ill tidings and bad weather on the horizon and how it would be bad for their ships going out to bring in the nets they had cast. Others spoke about missing children that had seemingly been snatched from their homes in the dead of night and how this had likely been the work of monsters of myth or a rival family rooting out the opposition while they’re still in the crib. This was something Gawain had heard of before, a brutal practice in which those who were vying for power with high king Njord as personal guards or captains for raiding parties. Since the captains decided where the raiding parties went, they were among the most important people in Villtsung culture, while the personal guards of the high king were responsible for his wellbeing.
This meant that if the king got attacked or if a raid went sour, the guards and the captains would likely end up getting killed and their families shunned for generations to come. In that way, Villtsung culture was far more cruel and unforgiving than even the highest noble sections of Cloverian culture, a place where families also had a hand in trying to get rid of the competition by paying a middle man to kidnap someone or otherwise deliver a message. But taking kids out of their beds and murdering them, that was taking things too far by miles. Doing his best to shake the thought of kids being taken from their beds, the boy still managed to do the things he had planned on doing. He was a magic knight for the kingdom, meaning he could not end up butting his nose into everything that wasn’t his business. He had more important things to do, or so he told himself as he informed the man of the Skrýtinn being killed before paying for a room and heading off to bed.
That night, Gawain felt himself toss and turn in his bed. Not so much because he was uncomfortable, but rather because he felt like something was off, even as he slept. Even while he was asleep, his Ki was still somewhat on edge, giving off a vibe equal to ‘sleeping with one eye open’. Finding that he couldn’t trust the vast majority of the people dwelling on this island, whenever things got rowdy in the tavern below his room, he was on the verge of waking up, but was kept in a state of rest. Still, even with these people being everywhere around him, there was something else gnawing at him, a more direct feeling of uneasiness emanating from somewhere not that far from him. Somewhere not far, yet closing in. By the time the feeling of unease grew to the point where the boy opened his eyes ever so slightly to take a look around his room, he stood face to face with it.
A humanoid creature most people on the island considered to be some kind of demon that brought pestilence and famine, a mythological creature responsible for cursing entire bloodlines, stealing children in the dead of night to put in their soup, and digging up fresh bones from a cemetery to create wards and totems by which to ward off their foes and increase their magical power. Staring the creature straight in the eyes as it was looming over his bed, its arms outstretched and preparing to snatch him out of his bed, the creature known as the Vatnshagur. Kicking off his blankets as he rolled off the side of the bed, he prepared to cast a spell that would blast the creature across the room. But as he kicked off the blankets, the Vatnshagur realized that she had made a mistake with her choice in prey, causing her to run for the very same window that had granted her access.
Leaping through and onto the roof, Gawain ran after her. Stopping by the window to look around and see where she might have gone, it seemed that she had already made her way outside of the range of his Ki. Or rather, given the amount of activity within Port Njord at every hour of the day or night, it was next to impossible for him to pinpoint where she might have gone. But even though he could not see her, he felt like she could still see him. Closing the window and locking its bolts shut, he closed the curtains and returned to bed. For reasons that should be obvious to anyone however, the boy did not get any more sleep from that point on, remaining tense and feeling like another attack was imminent all throughout the night. Normally when he dealt with creatures such as goblins, vampires or spiders, he did so on his own terms by actively seeking them out. But he had never been sought out himself, let alone where he slept.
The very next morning, Gawain quickly got dressed and began asking around. Knowing he still had roughly eight hours before the portal back to Clover was going to be opened, he wanted to get to the bottom of things, as he did not find any joy in being almost killed or taken by some haggish monstrosity. Before this evening, he had never seen one of these creatures with his own two eyes, though Heigan, the man that had purchased him and his mother when he was several years younger, had often used it as a cautionary tale not to try and sneak out in the middle of the night. Claiming the Vatnshagur was always around, watching for children to snatch from the settlements, it was a scary tale that had kept him up a lot. At some point however, he stopped being as afraid of it as he too came to believe the creature to be nothing more than a myth, an old wives’ tale meant to scare children from being overly brave and doing stupid shit.
But as he went about looking for clues or witnesses, all he was met with was laughter, people claiming he had lost his mind, being outright ignored and those that asked him whether he wanted to be on the receiving end of a beating. As per usual, the people of Port Njord seemed as hostile as possible. After some time of looking and asking around, it seemed that there wasn’t anyone around who might be of use. But that was when he came across a bunch of written notices. One regarded how stealing from the local graveyard would now be punished by the severing of the dominant hand. This gave him an idea. If this Vatnshagur was really skulking around the port, it made sense that she was using the local graveyard as a means of gathering the bones she needed to craft her totems and bone piles used to catch powerful curses. Next stop, the graveyard.
Once at the graveyard, the ashen haired knight could feel a near instant sensation of immense sadness. While it wasn’t that odd to experience sadness to some degree, it was not quite as expected from a culture that ditched most of their dead in a swamp and took immense pride from dying in battle. Something was off. As he looked around, he primarily saw young parents mourning by old fashioned gravestones. But just from a glance, Gawain could tell that the thing that was off about all of this was the fact that there were no bodies in the ground. These particular graves were empty. From where he stood, he could tell that there were three couples here, seemingly all having lost a child. And just like that, he realized what must have been happening. The Vatnshagur, she must have been targeting children for a while now, kidnapping them from their rooms to never be seen again.
Though she had clearly missed the mark when it came down to her believing he too was just another child as he was actually a teenager already, all of this seemed to fit the modus operandi of the swamp hag. While wildly inappropriate, Gawain started going around seeing which of the couples might be bothered to speak to him about what happened. Interestingly enough, the very first couple he spoke to seemed very open to the notion of discussing things with him, which was very unexpected. As it turned out, they had been met with the same level of disbelief and ridicule that had been sent to Gawain when he questioned people with regards to the Vatnshagur sightings. They claimed that they had tucked in their child earlier that month, slept through the whole night, and when they were not woken up early by their kid being awake had gone to his room to find that the window was wide open and the child was gone.
In his place, a small totem made from carved bone had been left, almost as if it had been some sort of transaction of sorts. Sensing a feint amount of mana inside of it, the boy asked if he might have it, to which the parents seemed reluctant. To them, this was the only thing they had left that reminded them of their child, and somehow gave them the belief that he might return some day. Deciding not to push them on the matter, the mother took the totem from her husband and handed it off to him, after which they went straight home. Gawain felt bad for them, well and truly. For even though they were Villtsung, not all of them seemed to be murderous barbarians, and not all of them were responsible for the deaths of his own parents. Things like these reminded him of that, allowing him to set his hatred for them as a species aside, at least for now.
Holding the totem in hand, he could just feel the sinister mana inside of it. Placing it into his pocket, he made his way towards the next couple, who seemed to be entirely unwilling to speak to him, being extremely upset that their mourning was so rudely disturbed. Spitting at his feet, the two got up and removed themselves from the premises, cursing him openly as they left. Not entirely upset about this turn of events, part of him could understand what it was like to lose relatives, though he could not understand the pain of losing a child. Not really. Finally, he made his way over to the last of the couples, visiting a larger grave, going to show that they were considerably wealthier than the others. Standing next to the parents, the boy could tell that this stone had only been placed recently, very recently. More recently than the others, which told him two things. This child hadn’t been gone long, meaning their pain was also more fresh.
Looking at the names on the stone, there were two things that came over him straight away. The first of these things was shock, though that soon disappeared as there was no way in hell that what he thought was possible. The second thing he felt was an even more prominent wave of shock following up on the first. The name on the stone dedicated to the child was “Heigan”, which coincidentally was also the name put on the stone that stood right next to it. This one however was filled, and had been here for some time now. Knowing that it was a tradition to name children after their grandfathers so the same two male names dominated a single family line, the fact that this kid’s grandfather was also named Heigan meant that the man who was buried here very well might be someone he knew personally, and had known for a very long time.
Unsure as to what the right approach to all of this would be, part of him considered walking away and just heading out into the mire with the knowledge he had gathered up so far. Truth be told, he knew more than enough already, so there seemed to be nothing he would really gain from talking with them. Still, there was some part of him that had to know. He needed to know whether the man that had the death of several acquaintances he had grown up with, as well as his mother on his conscience had truly died, and what kind of a death had befallen him. And so, without really trying to filter his words, it all just came out. Asking whether this was the Heigan that had made quite a name for himself in the buying of slaves and making money off of them, the two fell silent at first.
But before long, the man began talking, or rather he began answering. Calling himself Helgeir, son of Heigan, it was true that this was the same person Gawain had spoken of. More importantly, Helgeir seemed to know of him, what with Gawain being the same slave that had gotten rid of a lot of people for Heigan with nothing more than some rusty knives and a drive to survive. He also knew about his mother, and that her death had been somewhat tragic, but that it wasn’t all that unheard of on the islands. Slaves were not worth as much as the lives of a true islander, which was the reason why no one had ever stepped in to help them when they needed it the most. At that point, Gawain flashed his grimoire, showing that he had since become a mage. Believing that the notion of a four-leaf clover was lost on these people, he didn’t really push on that.
Merely stating that he had been sent back to this dump of an island to take care of some monsters troubling the fishermen along the shoreline, and that he had almost been attacked in his bed by a swamp hag, Gawain also made it clear that dealing with that was not his concern. He had gotten rid of the Skrýtinn, so now the locals could deal with the Vatnshagur on their own. That was, if they could get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that this was the thing plaguing their community rather than some families trying to extinguish one another’s chances at continuing their bloodline. With that, he fully intended to walk away and leave them to their misery. If it was that simple for them to just claim the life of a slave was worth nothing and that that made the death of his mother somehow less of a tragedy, he hoped the swamp hag would end up claiming everyone in this godforsaken town.
But that was when someone grabbed his shoulder. Turning around, fully preparing to deck Helgeir in the throat if it was him, it turned out to instead be his wife. Pleading with him not to leave, she stated that she knew what that symbol meant, that those who were gifted with a four-leaf clover grimoire were supposed to be the crème de la crop among mages and were destined for greatness. Introducing herself as Edith, Gawain instantly recognized the name as being from the mainland. Explaining that Helgeir meant well but wasn’t much for expressing emotion or admitting fault, the fact that she had come here as a slave but had married into the family and provided them with a son had been something Heigan had been firmly against. It was originally why both of them had been banished from the house, only to be welcomed back in with open arms when the old slaver fell ill with an illness that eventually claimed him.
When he heard about all of that, he could not deny taking some joy out of the fact that the man had not died peacefully in his sleep but as a result of some sickness. That, and the people he had banished now living in his home was also a fun bit of irony he could certainly enjoy. Shooting a glance at Helgeir, the man just looked away, clearly not enjoying the notion of pity or the fact that this tale regarding his family was being shared with someone who wasn’t an islander. Turning their attention back towards one another, Edith pleaded once more with Gawain to go and find their son. Realizing that the boy was more than likely no longer alive, she could not handle the thought of him being left to the whims of some monster even after his death. In that sense, the two could find one another, as Gawain still dreaded the thought of what might have happened to his mother’s body all those years ago. But that could wait, because right now, he needed to get a move on and find some lost children. Alive, or dead…
Taking off into the swamp and moving straight onward, his Ki sensed the movement beneath the murky waters that surrounded him on all sides. The quicksand, underground barrows hiding countless dead bodies in various states of decay and a large amount of Draugr, rotten roots of long-dead trees and more existed all around him. Among them, the Drukknari, corpse-eating monsters that vaguely resembled humanoids fed on the dead that awaited consumption beneath the surface. Though lazy at times and opportunistic carrion feeders, they would not squander the chance to feast on flesh that had still been alive moments ago. As such, they would not shy away from a boy his age wandering into this accursed place. But as it were now, the place was quiet, so quiet that he could hear the sound of his own heart beating. Though by itself quite haunting, it wasn’t something that would stop his advance.
Compared to the Villtsung, Gawain had a means of hunting this thing now that he was so far removed from the world. Aside from his Ki, he could also sense mana, even though his skill to do so was not nearly as advanced as those of many of the other mages he had met. Why this was, he didn’t really know, though he didn’t consider this a weakness or a flaw. For with what little skill and ability he could sense a large vocal point of mana up ahead. And not just any kind of mana, but mana feeling similar to what he had felt when he had been in a subterranean temple structure inhabited by spirits and the undead, or the feeling he had more recently gotten when he had ventured into a hidden passage underneath the Church’s mausoleum. It was a kind of mana that felt evil. Necrotic. As if darkness had been given a more tangible form as it coalesced further up ahead.
Feeling that there was no time to be wasted, the boy sprinted through the muck, getting stuck for a bit a few times as he ventured into quicksand, but quickly prying himself loose due to his great physical strength, speed and lightweight frame. All these things together made him like a bullet being fired through the air, like an arrow loosed from a bowstring while seeking out its target ahead. And before long, his target was exactly what he found. Concealing himself behind a dead tree, he looked down into some sort of nook where various old and rusted cages had been stationed. Inside of them were two children, each stuck inside of their own cage. There were other cages too, though none of these held any prisoners, which was in and of itself a good thing if you chose to forget the number of kids that had gone missing. Because he had been keeping track, and the amount missing as of late came down to three. Not two.
Hoping that he might have arrived in time to save them all, he looked around, finding that the Vatnshagur itself was not here. But even though she herself seemed to not be around, the dark mana he felt was all around him, seemingly coming from multiple directions. Doing his best to hone in on it, it seemed like his attention was being drawn into an unearthed barrow, which was likely where she had retreated to for the time being. But there was more. In the tree itself, as well as stationed around this particular nook were a bunch of totemic structures that had clearly been hand-crafted out of bone. Not being overly knowledgeable on the Vatnshagur and her lore, he had heard about the bones being collected as being part of dark rituals that provided her with power. And power provided her with bravery and the strength of will to sneak into a Villtsung settlement as big as Port Njord to steal kids. So if he could destroy some of them, he might even be able to weaken her.
On the other hand, if he began destroying the totems, there was a good chance that this would be picked up by her instantly, which might throw a wrench into his plans to save the two kids. Even as he thought up a plan, he could barely sense the kids and couldn’t even properly tell whether or not they were breathing, not even with the use of his Ki. In that moment, he decided that if he was to put a stop to this, he would need to put a stop to her first, or she would just muster up the strength and bravery to go out and hunt for more children in the future. As such, he turned his attention towards the totems. Trying to find them all, he positioned himself somewhere he might be able to target them all from before firing various bullets of compressed air that tore through them and caused them to fall apart. But even as they did and the mana they exuded diminished, the bones themselves still radiated with magical power. This likely meant that she could easily reconstitute her totems when given the time, meaning he had to destroy them all properly and completely.
Name of Spell: Perforate Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Senior | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 80m | 45 m/s Mana Cost: 30 | 15 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Putting his index and middle finger together while pointing his thumb up, Gawain will point his right hand at his target, using the tips of his index and middle fingers as a vocal point from which it is fired. This spike is roughly two meters wide with the purpose of puncturing the target. The attack itself is lethal on direct hits, capable of leaving deep cuts and lacerations, broken bones and breaking most structures, dealing Senior rank damage. For every 30 Control, an additional shot can be fired. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The bullet follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 30 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green ball to others.
Just as he had assumed, the moment the first of the totems went down, a rumbling could be heard from inside of the barrow. By the time the last of them had been destroyed, a loud shriek resounded from beneath the earth and into the world above. Along with it, the same dark figure that had been looming over his sleeping form not too long ago appeared within his line of sight once more. Clad in dark robes that were stained with abnormal amounts of blood, decked out with old rope and fishing wire attaching various bones to her clothing, she even had part of a human skull concealing her wicked facial features. Having seen them once before just as he was waking up, it was a sight he wished not to have to see again in the future. Locating him instantly, she held out her hand, holding a tiny skull, instantly filling Gawain with a sense of dread as he now knew exactly what had happened to the third boy.
The blood, the skull, the empty cage, there was no doubt about it. Cackling as she shook the skull and pointed it at him, a sickly green light lit up in the empty sockets of the skull before firing a blast of necrotic magic in his direction. Fast as it were, it was not as fast as his own magic. Releasing a blast of air that intercepted the green magic bolt while in that same instance scattering a bunch of the bones that had been used to make up the totems. Infuriating her, she leaped from the barrow entrance and out beyond the nook, rattling the skull as she landed near Gawain. With a rumbling of the soil, tall spines of bone shot up, trying to impale him from below. Trying his best to figure out where and when the next might rise, he did his best to maneuver back and forth, over and under to keep from being harmed. Receiving various cuts and nicks of differing degrees, he was glad that the hits that were made could be slightly offset by his mana skin.
Using one of the large spines, he jumped up, put the soles of his boots against it and dashed through the air in an almost horizontal manner towards the Vatnshagur. Releasing another burst of air pressure mana, this time even stronger than the previous one, he knocked the creature through the air, sending her barreling through the old dead tree and into the muck behind her with a loud smack. Sending several of her skeletal adornments into the muck where they quickly sank into the wet sand and slick, even her mask fell to the ground. Quickly driving her clawed fingers into the murky water to retrieve it, it seemed that one of the Drukknari had already been waiting, biting into the skull from below and trying to make away with it. Not about to let this happen, the swamp hag used her magic to send a burst of green magic into the ground, causing a loud eruption to shoot up from the ground as she felled her competitor.
But in so doing, it seemed that there were more problems on the horizon. There was after all a reason why no Vatnshagur ventured this close to Villtsung settlements in such a long time. This was the domain of the Draugr and the Drukknari. And when so much necrotic mana was being swung around so carelessly, one could only imagine the amount of activity would be drawn to it. But the Vatnshagur did not seem bothered by it. Up until now, she had been able to go about her business in relative peace, though that had all changed with Gawain’s arrival. In her optics, if she could get rid of him, she could restore her totems and force peace to return by either enslaving or destroying the corpse-eaters and the vengeful dead that were gradually becoming more interested in whatever was going on along the surface of the marsh. But as she had struggled against the Drukknari, Gawain hadn’t just been sitting idly by.
Using his strength to strike open both of the cages, he went right after the Vatnshagur. Watching as she held the skull in his direction, she began calling upon the power of the bones in the area. Forming one of Gawain’s most powerful spells, he shot a sickle of highly compressed air in her direction. Perhaps it had been her youth, or perhaps it had been the bravery and belief in her newfound power, but as she drew upon the power of the bones, her totems being shattered meant that she could only call upon so much. And it wasn’t enough. So as the sickle of wind came right at her, the sickly bolt of mana she fired back was sliced in half moments before that same blast collided with her body. And in that instant, it was all over. For as her body had been cleaved in half going right down the middle of her skull to her toes, the same sickly green colored mana could be seen quite clearly as it erupted from her body in a violent explosion.
Name of Spell: Force Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Senior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 80m | 45 m/s Mana Cost: 30 | 15 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ox sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly nine meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to thirteen meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is potentially lethal upon direct hits, capable of breaking bones and can easily tear through non-magical structures, dealing Senior rank damage. To those without at least 30 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
Name of Spell: Cleave Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Grand | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 150m | 85 m/s Mana Cost: 50 | 25 Stats Effected: +12 Power Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot | Battle Knight Description: Extending and pushing his right index, ring and middle finger together before flicking them upward in order to activate the spell, a crescent blade of highly compressed air roughly five centimeters thick and twelve meters long is fired into the desired direction, following directly up on this motion. The attack itself is lethal, capable of leaving deep cuts and lacerations and ripping through structures and obstacles in its path, dealing Grand rank damage. For every 50 Control, an additional shot can be fired. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The crescent blade follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 50 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green crescent blade to others.
Dashing over towards the nook behind the dead tree, Gawain leaped down flat on his stomach as the explosion raged a good two meters above him, spreading to cover a good portion of the mire. Once it was over, green particles of mana drifted down from the sky, almost like necrotic snow falling from the heavens to the earth. The odd bit was that these particles seemed so concentrated that they could be seen by the naked eye, leading him to wonder exactly who else might have noticed. But since the marshes had begun to stir, there was no time for him to keep wandering about what this might mean in the long run. He had to get to the children and save what he could. Once he reached the first cage, he took out a boy that seemed to be breathing just fine. Apparently being under some sort of spell, Gawain shook him violently to break him out quicker.
Opening his eyes as he believed to be attacked, the kid began kicking and flailing his arm, which while annoying at the very least proved that the boy was okay. Telling the kid to wait for him by the side of the cage, Gawain made his way over to the second. Placing his hand on the back of the child, he couldn’t really feel any breathing. More than that, the boy felt incredibly cold and seemed to not be breathing anymore. Punching the side of the cage so hard that it dented and caused his fist to bleed in the process, the ashen haired mage recaptured is composure. Even though one had been long gone by the time he got here and the second seemed to have passed away as well, there was at least one child that could still be saved from a similar fate. So as much of a letdown and a setback as it might have been, he couldn’t risk letting that occupy his conscious mind. Not now, not yet.
Beginning to guide the boy out of the nook and back towards the settlement, it slowly began dawning upon him what all of this odd snow meant. As it came down, it seemed to saturate the ground in such a way that it roused the dead… as well as those that fed on them. All across the blast radius, the ground began to twist and churn as rotten limbs came bursting out, slowly hoisting themselves out from their underground resting places. Some were Draugr, and had been for some time. Others seemed to have just been corpses that had been deposited over the past year, but hadn’t been devoured by the Drukknari yet. All in all, even those that weren’t, they were Draugr now. And that meant only one thing, trouble. If he was to save this child and bring him back to his parents, he had to start hauling ass right now.
The last one was posted up before the start of December though. It's a bit odd that we're now being limited in the amount of solo threads we can do if we're basing it off of when it is graded instead of when it is finished and put up for grading. Because by that logic, if something is put up for grading on the 18th and gets graded on the 1st, you're just down a whole solo thread and its entirely out of your control.
If these are the rules, that's fair, but it seems a bit strange to me that we're going off of the date of the grading, rather than it being put up for grading.
Which is a fair point. From further discussion and speaking to of staff it is acknowledged that we go based off when the thread was started as shown below. These are all your started solos for this month:
I would like to ask if we can take this to pms or dms as it is easier and things are not so messy, but if not that is fine. Both of mine are always open for your as you know
That's fair, but out of those 5, two of them are training threads for relics that don't award me any kind of stat points, spell points, golden stars or any other kind of beneficial 'funds'. I was told a while ago that training threads and solo missions did not stack, meaning you could essentially do your 3 solo missions and do your training threads.
