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Sir Nathaniel

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About Sir Nathaniel

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    In that narrow space between brilliance and insanity.
  • Interests
    *Reading. (Love Fantasy)
    *Theater. (Especially musical theater)
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  1. Max's swords erupted into flames as he drew them, but the magic enhancing his physique seemed to somehow amplify with Iseult's prayers; he felt stronger, faster than he ever had before. Under normal circumstances, his abilities were indeed increased by prayer, but this? This was so very different. He stood taller, more erect, ready, even as he considered the situation before him. Three times before, in Iselyr, Nathan and Antares had clashed. All three bouts had ended indecisively, with neither man able to best the other. Despite being Nathan's apprentice for the last decade, Max had never once been able to defeat his mentor in any of their sparring matches, even though he was stronger. Nathan's skill with a blade far surpassed any of the Watchers by a wide margin, and he had an enhanced physicality of his own. Not great odds, but Max ignored the gnawing feeling in his gut and lunged at his opponent, attacking with a left to right stroke. Antares had drawn his own sword, a long and wickedly curved blade and parried. He then countered with a riposte in a motion so smoothly and elegantly that even Max was impressed. Necromancer or not, he couldn't help but admire the discipline and pinpoint skill in his swordsmanship. Truly, Antares was a foe to be feared. The Angel Knight ducked under the counterattack and brought his right blade up at the Necromancer's wrist in a rising disabling slash. Max's own style was rough, but his own skill and strength were undeniable, yet he could tell the villain was only toying with him. With consummate and casual ease he stepped back outside the reach of Max's short sword and wove into a second counterattack. His blade sang as he brought it around in a side slash, just narrowly missing Max's neck as he leaned back in a clumsy way. The fight fell into a pattern: Each man attacked and dodged and countered each other with speed and strength beyond human limits, but neither could successfully land a hit. That changed however when Gale leaped into the battle from somewhere else with a pirouette, turning it into a left to right slash. The Fairy Knight landed a hit below the villain's shoulder plate. The blade sparked as it grazed his steel but did not bite into flesh; Antares had moved to counter too quickly. Together, the brothers drove their opponent back with their combined strength. Whenever one attacked, the other covered him. Anytime the necromancer attempted to strike, one, (usually Max) held him off with a furious charge. There was cold anger on Antares's face as he ducked, dodged and wove around his two opponents, unable to finish them, but his armor deflected every strike. The battle had ground into a deadly stalemate.
  2. I'm glad to pop into the thread again! Missed writing with you all ❤️

  3. Just then, the air around the cult's fleet began to shift and crackle; wind blowing much more fiercely than before as the telltale signs of a gruelling lightning storm formed in the clouds around their outer ships. Black and grey storm clouds formed around them, obscuring their vision and making their escape that much more difficult. Onboard the Stormbreaker, Nathan's eyes were shut in deep meditation, focused on maintaining the storm. An idea he had, in addition to acting as the hammer of the allied forces was to divide and disorient the enemy using his weather manipulation powers. Since merging with Max, his abilities had further enhanced. Before, all he could do was project and control lightning. Now, he could master the weather itself. He could create confusion and havoc among the air by disrupting the wind currents and the clouds. The one downside to this was the fact he could not maintain it and direct his ship at the same time. It required all his concentration. The task of keeping it airborne and firing fell to Arthur, his second in command. Once the order came for open fire ovrr the open comms, Arthur nodded to the crew. "Man the gun turrets. Every one of them." He ordered. "Concentrate all your fire on the nearest warship." Throughout the ship's cavernous interior, the engineers went to work supplying each of the cannons with fresh cartridges. The first of the forward gunners immediately adjusted their guns and waited. "All guns, open fire!" Arthur barked. Outside, the first volley was unleashed. The Stormbreaker's guns quickly tore into the nearest enemy vessel, doing visible damage. All around the Watchers' ship, allied forces did the same. A crossfire between the two sides began to unfold: Amidst the whirling missiles, explosions that filled the air and raining fire, the storm Jameson had conjured kept up, just outside the allied fleet. The battle had begun in earnest.
  4. It took a half a second for Nathan to break into a run. The fact he was almost behind Igni as she thrashed and bucked about made his target a little easier. He ran like a man possessed, faster than any normal man could move. Even to Max's enhanced eyes, it was difficult to keep up with his movement. Better to focus on the present problem. Turning to Antares, Max drew up his swords and charged. Nathan paused just long enough to bend his legs, then jumped, carried upward by his powerful legs. He landed on Igni's back, just below her neck. "Hold still, please." He muttered. "I've got to get that thing off you." It took him a moment, not made any easier by Igni's thrashing, but he hurried up her back and seized the collar with both hands. For several seconds he tried to unbind it, but the cursed thing did not budge. "Get off her, damn you!" He growled, prying away at it with difficulty. "Come off!" It took another few moments, but finally, the iron began to give way under his strength. A final grunt of exertion and he pulled it loose, the chains ripping and shattering. With a disgusted face, Nathan hurled the collar aside, making a mental note to melt it into scrap metal later. For now it was a matter of ensuring Igni was alright. "Igni, talk to me, are you still you?" He asked, touching the skin on the back of her neck with one hand. "Are you alright my friend?"
  5. Fascinating. All my toons were born on Valucre. If other worlds exist, obviously there's some unexplored possibilities in this.
  6. A different discussion I thought we could have today is one that has always intrigued me. Many of our toons are born on Valucre, as per the norm, but many of them were not. Some came from other worlds or even universes. What I'd ask today is how did your character(s) if you have them come to this world if they originate from elsewhere?
  7. "Stand aside, Igni." Nathan growled. From the glow in his eyes and the way he marched forward, undaunted by the flames, it was obvious he was made blind and deaf by grief and rage. Suddenly, Max appeared before them in a blur; his movement faster than any human eye could keep up with. His white hair and silver steel armor had been smudged with gore, but the glow in his eyes was just as fierce as Nathan's. With one hand, he seized Nathan by the shoulder and held him in place. The pauldron began to buckle under the Angel Knight's considerable strength. "She is right, Master." He said sternly. "You are acting like a fool." "Let go of my arm, Max." Nathan snarled. For one long, terrible moment, it seemed like they would come to blows. "Come to your senses!" The Angel Knight roared. "You taught me that revenge blackens the soul. Is your code so easily cast aside?" Nathan exhaled sharply, took several deep breaths and eased his hard stance. "You know as well as I do what that sorcerer is capable of, Max." He said, his rage receding somewhat. "I have to kill him and smash that amulet into pieces." "And we will, but not for revenge." Max replied. "Your selfish act has nearly placed yourself in danger. Worse still, you brought Igni down here. Is she not exactly what he wants?" "Indeed she is!" Said another voice. "You are mine, beast!" Suddenly, Antares appeared in a flash in midair - landing straight on Igni's back, just above her neck, in his right hand was a metal collar, spiked and with heavy chains attached. It took an instant for Nathan to recognize the magical symbols carved into it: Spells of subjugation and mental control. He had counted on this very moment. With a sudden jerk, he slapped it around her neck - then attempted to lock it. However, before he could secure it fully, another lightning blast hit him straight in the chest - knocking him off. He hit the ground, hard, several feet away. "Igni!" Nathan said, concerned. His rage was forgotten for the moment as he ran to her side. "Are you alright?"
  8. "To all Force Majure aircraft in Nu Martyr space," another voice added to the ever growing chorus of cadences in the vox communication network. "This is Sir Nathaniel Jameson, leader of the Watchers team commanding the Stormbreaker. Our ship is ready to do its part." To all familiar with the Watchers of Genesaris, it was obvious they had decided that now was the time to announce their grand return and finish what was started in the last war. Since the end of that conflict, both the cavernous ship they had absconded with and its commander had undergone a serious transformation. Previously it was a freighter, the air equivalent of a draft horse, meant for ferrying passengers and cargo. Now it could rightly be called a warship. The engineers and scientists they had evacuated to their new homes in Genesaris had worked tirelessly to reconstruct the ship into another powerful weapon to use against their enemies. The broadside had been fitted and bristled with cannons and anti fighter guns, each powerful enough to shoot down an individual fighter with a single, direct shot. Armored plates and some additional wind shielding were fitted on both the bow and the upper deck to protect its crew and to allow it the capability of ramming straight through enemy vessels. The downside to all its upgrades was that it came at the expense of speed and maneuverability. Unlike others of its kind, the Stormbreaker was rebuilt for staying power and sheer strength above all. It would need to be so if it were to accomplish its mission. Per Nathan's plan, the Stormbreaker would act as the hammer that would smash through the enemy fleet and provide the allies with an opening. If it succeeded in breaking all the way through to Lilith's flagship, all would be well and good. If it failed, he hoped to still influence the fight in whatever way he could. Nathan himself had changed for this battle as well. Since he had defeated his old adversary, Antares, a near death experience had made him undergo a major transformation. By merging with his ally, Max, he had acquired a far greater power than he had ever thought possible. Quite literally, their two souls and bodies had become one. Now one being, his strength had increased exponentially, possibly even enough to challenge Lilith herself. Onboard the Stormbreaker's command seat, he sat, overlooking the unfolding situation with new eyes. Blue eyes scanned the sky, which the crew could not help but notice were glowing. Electricity crackled across Nathan's armor and body in short bursts, as did ethereal blue flames, a telltale sign of just how enraged he was under the surface. "I come for you, sorceress." He muttered; the glow in his eyes intensifying. "This time, you will not evade me."
  9. Is there still room for the Watchers team on this little expedition?
  10. "Arthur, you have the wall." Nathan said softly. From the tone in his voice and the glow in his eye, his rage had not subsided, but it was now focused - much like the guardsman had seen before during the battle with the Cult. Unlike before though, Arthur knew that this time, it was very personal. His ex-wife's murderer had just taken a direct hit against him and now it was Nathan on the warpath. Although Arthur wondered for a minute if his friend was not thinking clearly, he decided Nathan knew best. There were few who knew battle as well as he - and he was by far the very best swordsman of all of them. That and his experience at war was exactly why he was the one in charge. Arthur himself was no stranger to command, and so he was prepared to take command until Nathan spoke his next words. "We need to destroy the amulet. If all else fails, I will deliver the finishing blow to it with my own sword." Now, Arthur was aghast. "That's suicide! The amulet contains raw power, it will destroy you both." "A necessary sacrifice to protect these people and our dragon friend." Nathan replied coolly. "I've come prepared: I will die to exterminate great evil. That is why the Watchers were created." He put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It's been an honor serving with you, brother." Before Arthur could say another word, Nathan took off and leaped from the wall. He landed, hard, on his feet on the ground below, unharmed. Standing to his full height, sword in hand, Nathan charged forward. "Stubborn, self-righteous asshole." Arthur muttered under his breath. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Nathan strode about the battlefield in a familiar pattern - sword strikes followed by lightning bolts fired from the sky, incinerating every war machine or cluster of corpses he came across. He fought like a man possessed; his anger having been harnessed, focused into a whirlwind of controlled violence. He made the most of every swing, every backhand, every counterstroke and riposte. Although it helped that his foes were unwieldy and clumsy with their weapons, Nathan's skills were like nothing any of the men had ever seen. Even fighting the cult, he had held back out of fear of harming his comrades. This was Nathan letting loose with everything he had. Every stroke downed a foe or rent heads from shoulders. Some he even sliced cleanly in half before finishing them off with a flash of white hot electricity. His sword was a blur; even his return movement to a relaxed stance was so fast that none of the onlookers could see it happen. Throughout it all, though, Nathan's expression was serene; not the slightest hint of emotion betrayed the inner inferno. His face was a picture of control, even as he ripped through the living dead like wheat before a scythe. In only a few minutes, he fleetingly realized he had cut down an entire platoon's worth of them. Scattered body parts and burnt, blackened corpses were all that remained to mark their passing. "Where are you, Antares?" He murmured, his eyes scanned the surroundings. Louder, he called, "Come out and face me!"
  11. Well, for my toons, there's a firm distinction between Martial Arts and Magic. As said above, channeling Mana for conducting a spell is their go-to method for Magical purposes. In three of my characters, their natural, physical state is what we define as "Enhanced" and so their performance level is well above even a trained athlete. This, simply put is what you would very often see in such films where characters can perform superhuman feats. In the case of Arthur and Elias, who repy exclusively on hand to hand combat and lack the enhanced condition of their comrades, they use a little different superhuman ability: Psionics. Although this might add a further level to this discussion, for simplicity's sake, I define Psionics as a branch of Magic that deals with the mind. In particular, the Morn brothers are directed at telepathy, psychometry, (memory reading through touch) and a limited degree of prescience, or the ability to see possible futures. As this enhances their fighting prowess, it can be defined as "fighting with both body and mind".
  12. Hello there. So, was thinking this topic resolve soon. I only intend to keep it going for a while longer. My main story will get underway afterwards, once I get some rare time off.
  13. Sir Nathaniel

    Writing Styles

    I use the same narrative for every character overall, but I find my dialogue and action is more organic and dynamic when I play off some of their little quirks and eccentricities. For example, my character Max is something of a religious zealot and his counterpart, a more secular character named Gale frequently snarks and derides him for his beliefs. In action, their fighting styles very well compliment each other. Underlying this is the fact that they are written to have a close, brotherly bond with each other, which I frequently mention. Overtime, I've found it helpful to play off my partner's characters to add the spice, if you will, to what I create. Every RPer and writer here has a unique perspective, a flavor, if you will, to add. This in turn helps make it feel more realistic, more enjoyable for all parties involved. In short, my style is cooperation.
  14. The boulder never had a chance to connect - as a bolt of lightning, brighter than any of the defenders had ever seen flashed down from the heavens and destroyed it in mid flight- and whatever was left fell harmlessly down to earth. Above the wall, Nathan glared, having barely moved a muscle as he commanded the storm through his will. His gaze met with his enemy far below, and to anyone watching it was impossible for them to tell which set of eyes were filled with more hatred. "Nathan!" Called Antares, raising his arm in a token of parley. The dead surrounding him immediately stopped what they were doing. "I have to admit, I was not expecting to find people here, much less you. I thought you had died in Iselyr, but you are as annoyingly stubborn as ever, I see. This battle is folly; you must understand. My forces are without number and yours will dwindle. I give you this one option: Surrender the dragon and I will leave you in peace." "You've no claim to her, Antares!" Nathan roared back. "Take yourself from here before I take your head!" "So be it." Antares said with a cruel smile. "But let me ask you something before you die." He looked directly in Nathan's eyes and just then, the amulet shimmered. "Have you ever wondered whatever happened to your wife? I slew her - not one day after she annulled your union. And her soul is now within this amulet. It empowers me, along with all the others I have slain." "I am going to gut you." Nathan said softly. His grip on his sword tightened - and his jaw clenched and the telltale flash of electricity started to crackle from his eyes. "You have lost your temper." Antares' smile widened. "The great paladin - Nathaniel Jameson has finally succumbed to his rage." "Antares..." Nathan murmured, his tone was icily calm. "Stop talking." Just then, a massive bolt of lightning shot down from the clouds - brighter and more intense than the previous one - striking the area where Antares' horse stood - forking out in every direction and obliterated every cadaver it touched. Only fading screams remained of those that were hit as they were wiped out - and black ash began to fall like rain over the field. Moments later, thunder clapped, loud enough to make every human's ears ache with just how loud it boomed over the field. Only Nathan did not cover his ears from the sound. Just as quickly as it appeared, the bolt dissipated, leaving behind a scorched crater in the earth where it had hit. Only when the clouds of smoke parted did it reveal Antares, standing there unharmed. His horse however had been reduced to ash - not a trace of it remained. Slowly, the sorcerer clapped his hands. "Fantastic light show." He said sarcastically. "But that was rather wasteful. That was my favorite horse you just destroyed. I think though a better mount would be your draconic friend." "Open fire." Nathan raised his arm again. "Destroy him!" "Warriors, forward!" Antares replied, snapping his fingers. A moment later, he vanished in a puff of smoke. As he faded from sight, the horde renewed its attack - more forcefully than before. Some of them began to attempt to scale the wall, only to have the defenders rain arrows upon them. When a few did reach the walls the defenders dumped barrels of holy water. Directed by Gale's magic, the water began to take shape and solidified into ice - impaling dozens of them. "Find that sorcerer." Nathan growled, though no one was sure who he was talking to. "Find him and bring him to me so I can kill him myself!"
  15. Valucre: I'm grateful to my old friends. To everyone that made the Watchers' saga possible. I'm especially grateful to my old friend, Die Shize, for his input. Been a good friend of mine since BattleOn Forums. You're one of the good ones, Die. Real Life: Grateful to my mentor, my Muay Thai instructor for giving me my self confidence back. A pep talk from him really gave my mood a huge boost. He talked about how proud he is of my progress and how much I've improved in the fighting arts these past three years. Really made me happy.
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