#horncleaver content

[commanderhorncleaver]

Smash or Pass: Gaius Horncleaver?

Freak Nasty

Gaze Chastely

Some Other Thing

For Me

Voting ended onJun 21, 2024

[commanderhorncleaver]

Meant to post this earlier, but

The old man is officially 60/2 years old!

Help the old guy celebrate!

[commanderhorncleaver]

A Basic Timeline to the Life of Gaius Horncleaver

1275 AE: Iron Legionnaire Stella Silvershot’s warband is captured by Flame Legion and taken as prisoners of war. 1277 AE: Sired by Oryen Crimsondew, a high ranking shaman, Gaius is born to Silvershot. 1279 AE: Stella escapes captivity with her cub, unaware if any of her warband remain. She eventually makes it to the Black Citadel. Stella relinquishes Gaius to the fahrar, and goes on her final patrol. 1280-1294 AE: Gaius attends the Black Citadel's Fahrar of Young Heroes, having committed himself to the idea of living up to the ideal of the perfect Iron soldier. Though he struggles to apply himself in Iron-typical fashions, with no talent for engineering or marksmanship, he does excel in strategy. His magic comes in, and he begins to have nightmares. He hides both his magic and his nightmares from his peers and primus. 1295 AE: Gaius graduates the fahrar as an Iron soldier of the Black warband, taking the name Blackhorn, second to Legionnaire Venus Blacksmoke. 1298 AE: Gaius’ warband is wiped out during a routine patrol near the Decimus Stones that interrupted a ritual by a group of Flame Legion. 1299-1300 AE: Gaius goes gladium. 1301 AE: Gaius is invited by Romeo Shanktooth to join his Blood legion warband. 1302-1305 AE: Gaius spends these years as Shanktooth’s lieutenant, acting as the brains of most missions. Gaius meets Carvecia Brightshadow of the Ash Legion. After Shanktooth is killed in a tavern brawl, Gaius transfers back to Iron Legion. Augustus and Fulvius are born to Carvecia. Raevik is also born.* 1305-1320 AE: Gaius climbs the ranks and is eventually made centurion as an administrative position. 1323 AE: Gaius meets Rytlock Brimstone 1325 AE: Gaius meets Lucasta, his half-sister. The events of Personal Story and Core take place.

*The births of Gaius' other cubs has been omitted.

[commanderhorncleaver]

this is all only a journey

August stood with his knife at the ready, his former mentor watching from across the field. The older charr scrutinized him carefully before raising his sword and shield–but still he didn’t move. It was almost painfully nostalgic; at a glance, Zerek hadn’t changed much, from his simple garb to his plated helm. Beneath it, the sandy-furred charr’s black mask had grayed, but given his experience with his own sire, August doubted the passage of time had dulled the old cat’s senses or reflexes much, if at all.

“What are we waiting for, old man? I know you aren’t afraid I’ve improved that much.”  The click of Zerek’s tongue was audible from twenty paces away, and August didn’t fight the grin that brought to his muzzle. “The match will continue until one of us is at the other’s mercy. Use the spells you’ve honed since we last met, but don’t involve bystanders. Weak-minded souls won’t always be at your disposal.” 

August charged the moment Zerek finished stating the terms. He swung his blade upwards as he ran, releasing energy along the ground to sweep towards his mentor–as it exploded forward, bright luminescent magic mixed with dirt and stone, he shrouded himself and ducked away. Zerek charged through the wave of earth and magic as it hit him, and three copies of the old charr materialized in formation around him on the other side of the resulting cloud of debris, on watch for August’s attack. He could hear the other charr’s thoughts like his old mentor was shouting them aloud, Come out, Augustus. Where will you strike from?

A clone of August took form and shot forward towards Zerek, and as it ran forward, three phantasms split from it. Zerek responded without hesitation. Two of his phantasms intercepted August’s clone, running it through the neck and chest with their swords, and the third threw his shield, charged with magic, in a powerful arc that punched through the psychic projections August’s clone had generated. As the phantasms shattered into glimmering purple shards that danced and glistened in the air, the shield slowed before returning to its owner’s paw.  “You know that’s not enough to distract me, Augustus!” The Zereks called out together. “I’d have thought you’d be better at facing your enemies by now, after so long with your sire?”

“Of course,” August said, stepping out of his shroud, knife in paw, behind the group of Zereks. “Let’s dance, old man.” August slashed with his knife, freeing one phantasm of its sword arm, and stepped into the group of Zereks. A Zerek jumped away while two others swung at him–their attacks were brutally cut short as streaks of amethystine light shot through their chests, shattering their magic as August mentally tugged at the remains of his projections which Zerek had just destroyed. 

The magic of Zerek’s apparitions destabilized and August blinked forward as they exploded, lunging his knife forward at the older charr’s torso. The gleaming pink blade was parried away by the other charr’s sword, and there their dance began in earnest. He slashed and stabbed while Zerek blocked and evaded–anytime the older charr would attempt a strike of his own, August would simply allow the blade to glide through him as the amethyst needles that floated in an array behind him winked in and out of existence. August had learned a lot in the twelve years he’d been working alongside his sire, but the most important thing his old man had imparted upon him, perhaps, was patience–this, he hoped, was enough to handle Zerek’s precognizance. Whenever Zerek’s form blurred and a clone would appear, he would launch a needle out to destroy it, all while continuing to press his advantage against his former mentor. This, however, was only a means to an end: Zerek’s first lesson to him, after all, was that a mesmer’s greatest strength was the array of weapons at his disposal. 

The telltale ticking of Zerek’s chronomancy began slow and echoing in August’s ears as the older shaman’s eyes glowed bright behind the visor of his helmet. The younger charr had tried to replicate it himself many times in the previous months–he knew its distinctive sound as well as he’d memorized the older charr’s lessons, but as of yet, he’d been unable to reproduce the specific unraveling of chaos that Zerek could unleash.  “Your old man really has been a good influence, hm?” Zerek grunted as he weaved away from a swipe of August’s knife. “I have to admit, I didn’t approve at first.” “Suppose so. It was bound to happen eventually,” August answered as he shot his needles away from him in a fan, one behind them and one to his left and right. The old man’s shield shattered the only one that went for him, and August ceased his barrage of spellcasting and blade swinging. 

Zerek’s magic reached its zenith, and August could see the smirk stretch across the older charr’s muzzle–his old mentor knew he’d won. His stomach shifted as the spell activated and his eyes flared: Gaius had never fully explained how his spell-jacking worked, but he’d seen it in play numerous times during the early days–as with most things, that was generally enough for him to pick up on how something worked enough for him to replicate it. Unlike his sire, he had to stop his own casting whenever he stole someone else’s spell, but if the situation was right, it wouldn’t matter that he was defenseless for a moment.  Here and now, time slowed to a halt around he and Zerek: airborne debris, sweat, and even both charr’s breathing decelerated to an almost imperceptible crawl. Exactly two seconds relative stretched into ninety seconds experienced–and then August jerkily finished his breath as his spell took hold of the well of magic beneath them, releasing him from its grip on space-time. He doubled over, paws on his knees from the exertion, and two more seconds passed before August teleported back to where one of his needles waited where their magic had clashed earlier, and then he transmuted his two remaining needles into clones. He peered through their eyes and saw from three angles the bright dome of pink light. Each version of him raised his paw, and as the well finally began to pop from bottom to top like a bright bubble, they let loose a torrent of needles into it. 

The psionic blades sang as they flew along the wind, shredding the air itself as they shattered the bubble and pincushioned the charr inside. Five seconds passed before he dropped his paw–his clones dissipated with the last of the blades, and August called, “If you’re gonna counter, I think now’s a good time for it!” Dust obscured his vision, and August realized he had indeed gone a bit overboard when the shifting of sand alerted him to Zerek’s movement. The older charr stepped out of the dust cloud entirely nude, armor shredded except for his helmet, and growled, “No, I think you’ve made your point.”  August whistled appreciatively. The older charr sighed as he pulled off his helmet and situated it to protect his modesty. “What is it that you want from me after so long, Augustus?” August sighed, but kept his smile as he looked at Zerek. “I need your help, I think.”

[commanderhorncleaver]

In the aftermath of becoming Vlast's champion via the Mists, Sigmund has grown out of his need of mobility aids. However, he's well aware that in the legions, there are plenty who still need them, and remains devoted to helping figure out implements that aid others. Additionally, he's taken on the surname Brighthorn.

However, given his newfound mobile freedom, he tends to roam the office in something Horncleaver might call less than modest, but August has assured him that so long as he's not hammering steel with his cheeks in the wind, he's free to wear as little as he pleases.

[commanderhorncleaver]

New outfit for the old man while I chug along doing LWS1 and 2!

Circa now, he'd still have his soul knife (zenith kris) and not Solana, but shruggle. He also wouldn't have the eyepatch, tbf.

[commanderhorncleaver]

Time to take Kettle on some walkies through the Citadel

*tfw your ceramic husky decides it's time to sing the song of his people in the middle of the market and you gotta remind him everyone knows he's your favorite kid*

[commanderhorncleaver]

Horncleaver comes into the office, early as usual, to find...

He opens the parcel and stares at what's inside--it's apparent what exactly is expected of him. With a sigh, he sets Gloryana into his chair and turns it around so that she faces away from him. Dutifully, he changes clothes.

He expects Marcus will be by later in the day, or sooner if the day proves uneventful or the other charr is otherwise too excited. Gaius will be sure to say thank you when he does.

(Thank you @brightwingedbat for this gift)