𝑳𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒚𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝑩𝑬 . 𝑻𝑶𝑨 . 𝑬𝒎𝒎

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑩𝑶𝑬𝑳 𝑹𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 2023.

Participation: +1 Any Skill (Allocated to Reason = C1/2) Victory: Goddess’s Favor (No buffs)

New Supports!

Round 1 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 : Assailant ✧ 𝐅𝐨𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 - Praying Assailant (BOEL) Round 2 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 : Assailant ✧ 𝐅𝐨𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 - Ferocious Gust (BOEL) Round 3 𝑬𝒅𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 : Assailant ✧ 𝐅𝐨𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝑬𝒅𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 - Verbose Vagabond (BOEL)

His Team Village (KKE) teammates have also all been given support tags...I just procrastinate sometimes :D.

Hubert is accepting further small interactions based around BOEL----threads or asks! I would also like to send out asks to the Black Eagles that remained through the third round, so please let me know if that is alright with you! Pings/DMs/Tumblr message (If nothing is said, I obviously won’t send one to you! :D )

And of course, thank you to the mods for the event !

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑩𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒛𝒛𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 - 𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐚𝐫

Swordsmasters of Elyos and Hoshido have long inspired people with their signature finishing move: the ability to cut through an opponent with dazzling speed, so fast that one can’t even perceive the blade leaving its sheath. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion reignites interest in learning these techniques. Determined students have made some progress but haven’t quite mastered the move. Think you can help them? [ Grants Sword +1 ]

𝑰𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑫, often untouched, at his hip——a ceremonial trinket more commonly than not, but, also, when necessary, a true weapon: a blade. It was decorative, traditional, little more; it had no value to him save for a weapon at his side, but it had merits. He knew this——of its agility and dexterity, its proximity prowess to cleave and sunder flesh. It was not his specialty, but it was a skill, nonetheless, of undeniable merit to develop. Only, he hadn’t yet developed it; it remained dormant at his side, disregarded in favor of soul-tainting magicks. 

Thus, when he removed it from its scabbard, dust was not unexpected——he had not once used it. He pressed cloth to dirty blade, starting first at the handle, to wipe away the grime of disuse. Dust billowed, livened now by its long awaited use. It entertained no weight——a trinket quality for this new prowess he’s heard but on a whim: a dazzling flash of speed and death. It entertained him, although he did not deem himself nimble. 

It is when he tarries on to cleansing the pummel of the blade that many others join his presence, awaiting a seminar he doesn’t think will come——punctuality is key, and, thus far, it has been defiled. 

“This isn’t promising...”

@mjolnirsrequiem

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑬𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝟏𝟎𝟏 - 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚

There’s been an uptick in monster sightings in the Sealed Forest, coinciding with the decline of wildlife in the area. Crest stones found in animals’ mouths and embedded in their skins confirm the Church’s suspicions: bad actors, likely Agarthans, are turning these beasts into vicious monsters. One of the Knights of Seiros has plenty of experience with the Agarthans’ tricks. She’s asking for volunteers to help her gather whatever Crest Stones they can find and put the infected wildlife out of their misery. [ NPCs Available ]

No NPCs

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑨𝑵 opportune endeavor to research, now, the arrival of newly augmented creatures beyond means typical and conventional, sealed away in a forest that took its namesake from its withholding quality: the Sealed Forest. They are not so similar to the creatures the wildest imagination had conjured——that, rather, which had plagued his “dream” in that mystical village many moons ago; these creatures were not like that forsaken girl and a punishing goddess’s weeping wrath. These beasts were simply the smallest few of nature——rodents and vermin, avian life befallen with an unfortunate embedding of augmentative stone in their being. 

He had theories——developing, scrutinizing theories. Such were truly all that one could have aside from the rumor of snakes within holy grounds, hallowed grounds——it changed nothing, the fact of hallowed grounds. It merely spited their foe to assault more heavily any defenses presented...even if through the manipulation of wildlife. Perhaps it was, simply, an experiment——wildlife was, when used, without grandiose casualties. Such a thought would indicate only that there were further intentions in the future if an experiment was truly being conducted beneath the church’s snobbish snout. 

But, that was not the purpose of this endeavor——not his personal research. It was the salvation of the wildlife, restoring them to proper naturality. However, nothing——no creature divine or bewitched——prohibited his research. Thus, it would be merely a lingering notion. 

“Our priority at present is to gather all seekable crest stones,” He spoke, one gloved hand resting atop the flap of the satchel at his hip——for storage, of course. “That is to say, we are now hunters.”

@maligknightsthorns

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑷𝑳𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳

This is a small little something in light of the new prompts. I also added the Lance and Ethereal Ball prompts (as they are not in the wanted plots channel on his section). Pings work, but DMs are preferred. 

Golden Deer required

Riding/Fly+1 | Golden Deer required : This experience would give him trauma an entire new perspective, quite literally, on life. Care to partake?

Any+1 | Golden Deer required : Let’s...save the mice?

Non-mission

Sword+1 : In light of BOEL...

Lance +1 : Reconnaissance in Remire

Non-point

Ethereal Ball Preparations : He would very much like to know the layout, hindrances, and whatnot about the ball, so why not take part in planning it?

Monster Sightings : Let’s defame the church by showing how out of control their, well, control is

[crimsonvassalage]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : Mar. 2023

BOEL already accounted for! (Separate post)

Status: Passed

Points earned: +1 (activity)

Points allocated to: Reason ( +1 = C+)

Total points: 9 -> 10

Prompt/thread points ongoing!

No new nventory additions!  

No new masteries !

HOUSEKEEPING

Faith +1 - Anankos : Nightmares

Riding +1 - Edelgard : Seaside

Gauntlets +1 - Linus : Five Finger Death Punch

Authority +1 - Leonardo : Help I Don't Even Know What A "Katti" Is

Sword +1 - Felix : Two Emo Boys Does Not Equal One Babygirl

Riding +1 - Julia : But They're So Fluffy!!!

Did I miss our thread? Let me know!

[shadoll]

A joyous feast caps off an exciting day of battle and glory.  

Send a 🥂for a short interaction at the after-party. All houses and non-participants are invited to share in the festivities!

[crimsonvassalage]

freedomarrow​:

Help I Don’t Even Know What a “Katti” Is || Leonardo & Hubert

…

“No, of course not. I’ll do it.”

Not that Leonardo would intend to judge the man based on a skill the quality of which he has never had a chance to witness - though based simply on that, the regular absence of Hubert at the archery range, he may be willing to risk the notion that perhaps, even if a dormant ability is there, it is simply not within the scope of Hubert’s highest priorities.

He sighs quietly. Hopefully he does not at least have to act too much. After all, if they mistook him for Lyndis in spite of the incorrect gender, chances are that they do not know her personality well, either, and by extension, he does not need to know exactly how to emulate her either.

“Okay, but do help me out here,” he adds quietly, leaning towards the taller student as he does.

The Daein may be a hint more open than he used to be, but he still does not consider himself to be great at talking to people. Not that he knows for sure whether or not Hubert is.

With that said, ahem. The archer takes a deeper breath and pushes the door open, entering the room where three of the apparent village elders were waiting for the apparent Lyndis.

“If I may beg your pardon,” he starts, doing his best to sound polite without also sounding too shy or nervous. Whether or not he is succeeding, he has no idea. “It has been… brought to my attention, that the fake Lyndis who passed by here a few days ago, has abused your village’s hospitality. It has been requested of me to make things right.” Come on, keep it together. “I cannot make promises, but… could you maybe tell me exactly what damage has been done?”

“𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬.” A swaying gesture of a gloved hand bid the cervine archer to continue onward, that, as ever was it that his position placed him, he was the shadow at the boy’s back——lingering, awaiting hostility that changed on an unseen whim. Hubert much prefered the shadows, the obscurity of a lurking notion that all was not right——of course, only when he was that notion. Another, and they would simply have need of removal, forceful or otherwise. 

However, his hopes had been too high——a pity. The boy spouted from the mouth, on that unforeseen whim, about recompensation and righteousness against thieves they had not yet found——of returning stolen goods and reimbursing hospitality that the village elders were robbed of; Hubert scoffed——outside, of course, unheard by gullible elders. 

He follows in thereafter, leaning to the boy’s ear, one hand bowed at the flank. “If you accuse that there is a fraud of Lady Lyndis running amok, you must convince them that you know the genuine one. This is where you act.” He withdraws from the archer’s vicinity, splaying one hand at the boy’s back, although never making physical contact with him——a showy gesture, though loathed, that presented the boy like a trinket upon a stand. 

“We join you amidst this plight to right the wrongs made in Lord Lyndis’s name.” A showy gesture of the boy, the presentation-like quality of his act——surely the elders assumed that Leonardo was this unknown Lord Lyndis. “Lord Leonardo Lyndis, that is.” 

[crimsonvassalage]

hresvelged​:

seaside

She is not one to underestimate a situation, especially while within Adrestian territory. Fort Merceus is rendered near impenetrable, capably guarded in the heart of the empire. Their lands have been tainted by unwanted faces for quite some time now, only revealing themselves from the shadows when it is most convenient for them. To not entertain the thought of similar at play here would be a fool’s errand.

“That is worthy of concern. I can’t rule out the possibility. We must prevent that.” It is for similar reasons she sought to venture into Rusalka in the first place. To trust the situation would be handled by others is not one she is ready to place into their hands. The people must be able to place their faith in her.

Thus, she takes action. “As ideal as it may be to warn them in advance, we don’t have the time. Instead, I propose we handle this problem at the root.” The princess steps into the sun, arms crossed over her chest. While the locals may have suggested a moment of respite, she cannot relax amidst the stealing tides and strong rays. The sun will have to wait for her another day.

Lilacs drift towards the individuals enjoying the warm day— Some dip their toes into the water while others lay about on the shore. “Perhaps they know more than we do. We can inquire and observe.”

𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 speak with the passersby of Rusalka――a charitable notion with merit unavoidable, but it was blatant, obvious. The stir of worry to arise should the commonfolk decipher that their predicament――acknowledged or not――warranted Her Higness’s investigation would be insurmountable, comparable, in their small minds, to an apocalyptic finality to this game of life. It would produce an uproar amidst the people, fear-induced and irrationality-provoking until decent control was lost on the people, and their choices became unpredictable. Unpredictability was an unneeded bane against their efforts. Yet, he knew her to be publicly tactical――most certainly, she would know of this outcome. Thus, he disregarded it at present, although stowed it away as a possibility, hesitant to discard it altogether. 

“Yes,” An affirmative nod, one hand posed at his flank, the other across the sternum. “However, it is preferable that you are the one to speak with the others――my image does not suggest cooperation. You would be a more welcomed sight for the people, although I will maintain their potential hostilities from afar regardless.”

Or, they could ascertain their complications directly with Lords Aegir and Fenja――the reigning lords nearest to Rusalka, shared jurisdiction. That would be his preference, but he knew that for her to achieve the eradication of the boundaries between the commonfolk and nobility, the former should learn of their inclusive say under her rule. Thus, such a suggestion never passed his lips. 

“Unless you would ask that I handle this issue through other means?” 

[crimsonvassalage]

🧃"Very good job out there. I saw Edelgard earlier, she should be with the rest of your classmates cheering on who's left."

𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 swerves of a snippy vagabond, wounds aplenty had assailed him, rendering garb torn and blood flow aflame with the sear of magic dark and soul-sucking――seldom as it was that he claimed to have a soul, nefarious as he was deemed. Such was the leverage of his shadowy presence――being supposedly bereft of soul. When last such grandiose excitement perturbed academic grounds, he had encountered creatures he suspected soulless and lifeless――creatures molded by a goddess-forsaken world...

Oh, the irony of how the waking world had seemed no different with prowling beasts of hardened exteriors, a faulty religion, praise to a goddess untouchable and existent in theory only.

This week's excitement had been annually occurring, pitting foe against a foe, house against house, until one reigned victorious. Regardless of whether or not his house hailed victorious, his aliferous house needed no victory atop revered grounds to claim power――such could be done regardless. Furthermore, the allies from now to then...Heh. They should be altogether altered, beneficial to imperial lands.

A lady clad in ebony and veiled in lavender offers a child's drink to him; he nods, speaks simple gratitude, and once she departs, his visage sours, embittered by defeat. Those who remained...Ideally, they would win; realistically...He did not, in truth, know――not with the imperial house's splurge of numbers. A matter he would ascertain once this endeavor ceased.

Oh, but that was not the troubling aspect of defeat. No, he could sacrifice sleep he was already bereft of, sleep he owed a debt on, but to face his liege in the aftermath of a personal defeat irredeemable? A scoff, and he set aside the infantile beverage he'd been charitably gifted. He could not seek her out, would not――he could not muddy her reputation with his defeat.

Thus, he watched from afar the resolution of an ongoing spar, one hand at his flank, the other raising the bitter drink to his lips. Perhaps if he ascertained the prowess of their foes in detail incomparable, there would be no shame in reconvening with Her Highness.

[stepsahead]

but they're so fluffy!!! || hubert & julia

 Among the new students are massive wolves unlike any that Fodlan has seen before: not monsters cursed by crest stones, but mounts that are frequently used by Elyos’ elite cavalry units. The Officers Academy has gone out of its way to import a small pack of these creatures, hoping to one day offer certification for aspiring Wolf Knights. However, these seasoned veterans prefer sunny afternoon naps and would rather ignore whatever nonsense that’s coming out of your mouth. You’ll have to earn their respect first. [Grants Riding +1]

Wolves!!!!!!!!!!

Julia had never seen such cute and fluffy creatures in her life. Not to say that they were not enormous and a little bit scary, but nonetheless, adorable. When the professor brought them in and announced they were from a foreign continent and for riding, she giggled to herself and nearly had to stifle the laughter. Of course, Julia was acquainted with knights riding horses, but such a thing with large wolves was unheard of Judgral. 

And she could not get past how cute they were. She really did want to pet them. Was that bad...

Perhaps strange lands really did have unique things. Julia wondered what other types of things she might be able to get. Perhaps stronger healing powers... 

At any rate, when all the students were escorted outside to mount the wolves, things were in disarray, to stay the least. None of the wolves seemed in any mood whatsoever to be ridden. They lounged around in the sun and snored away. Julia took pause to think if the professors were joking with them that these animals were truly used for riding.  

She was not a mounted fighter, so there really was no point in staying around for this exercise, but she lagged behind as most of the students left. Maybe she might be able to say hi to the wolves. She had always adored animals, and despite their large size, she was sure they were friendly. 

The mage looked up to see another student who did not seem to be a cavalry expert. She may as well introduce herself. 

"Hello," she began, with a bright smile, "I'm Julia. Are you here to ride the wolves? Shall we pair up?"

@crimsonvassalage

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑺――no worse than the wyverns perched atop lofty architecture, but hardly as tranquil as the steeds and stallions in academic stables. They were from afar, from lands distant and remote, undocumented to Fodlan; he would make certain to document them, to ascertain their offered knowledge in journals and documents, scrolls and yellowed parchment until no secret escaped the intricacy of House Vestra’s machinations. It was all, in the most pessimistic of paths, for the preparation against the inevitability of battle. 

These creatures were not like the hounds of the Aegir estate, domesticated for the hunt or for play; they were more feral than tranquil. He was never talented with animal husbandry――domesticated or wild. 

Ah, but there was always the one courageous student...fool...either term relayed the idiocy of approaching wild beasts. Of course, this never slipped his tongue――only a scoff from afar before long strides carried him to the girl crowned in tresses of lavender. Was she of the professor’s kin? It was most certainly plausible, not to mention the surname that aligned perfectly. 

“Not to ride them, no.” He spoke. “I would not advise mounting a creature you have only spent mere moments with.” 

[crimsonvassalage]

His wounds from the first and second rounds had been healed (though his opponent for the second round was awful green, he felt kind of bad beating them so easily), and Edward's raring to find his next adversary. The hubbub of the battlefield's thinned out significantly, so it's both harder and easier to find someone to challenge, until —

There! A bright, eager grin stretches across his face when he spots the mage a ways off (he had no visible weapons, definitely a mage) a looming, dark figure in the rain and storm. He remembers how surprised the mage from earlier had looked when he'd crossed the distance between them in a flash, and a playful thought begins to form. The mage's probably already seen him, anyways; This is an open field, not some back alley.

"Hey!" Edward shouts, before brandishing his sword. "Think fast!"

But when he lunges, he strikes not with blade, but feints, dips to close the distance a step farther, off hand reaching out in a sucker punch —

edward attacks with nosferatu (range undeclared)! roll: 10. hit! 1 damage.

And gets Hubert right in the gut. A spark of light flashes, then flares, bolstering his own spirit, and Edward dances right back, eyes bright. "C'mon, give me your best shot!"

Counter Luna (Melee) @ Edward Rolled: 17(+4) = Hit! | -1.5 Poison Strike activates! | -0.5 Initiation (Turn) Luna (Melee) @ Edward Rolled: 19(+4) = Hit! | -1.5 (+1: Fiendish Blow) = -2.5HP -4.5HP

𝑨 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 mages, albeit largely silent, had torn at traditional garb, fraying edges and sundering thread, seams irreparable. There was time only to remedy the sundered slices of flesh harsh winds had furiously struck him with――nothing more. Regardless, it was no matter that once ivory gloves were coated and dampened in the rainfall and hurling up of earthy ground that his fingers had worsened, raw, healed charitably by one of a myriad of bystanding clerics.

A quirked brow, then a feint――swift, agile――then the dark conjuration of soul-sucking Nosferatu. He had suffered its tempest, its draining qualities, once before――its blackness that sundered spiritual essence from spiritual foundations to replenish that of another.

"Hmph."

Dark Luna boiled at the fingertips, loosed with leisurely effort――it was habitual, now――to conjure nocturnal vengeance upon a taunting foe. His visage mirrored that of a crescent moon――split, humored, by an upturn of the lips.

"You haven't a bone of decency to cease your quips," He mused. A second hurling of darkening Luna, clean and swift in its strike, erupts anew a replenished full moon. "Nevertheless, I will find it amidst your corpse."

[crimsonvassalage]

Soren HP: 5/5

Soren briefly wondered if this contest would conjure up some sort of “strongest dour-looking mage” betting pool. It was, theoretically, an even match. He wasn’t sure he liked his odds.

He took his position, tome open in his hands, breeze already whipping around him.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Cutting Gale Roll: 11, hit. With Fiendish Blow, -2.5HP to Hubert.

@Soren w/ Luna (Mixed: Melee) Rolled: 5+6(Dex&HS) = 11 | Hit! | -1.5HP to Soren Poison Strike! -0.5HP to Soren @Soren w/ Luna (Mixed: Melee) Rolled: 13+6(Dex&HS) = 19 | Hit! | -1.5HP to Soren (Note: Soren will sustain Poison Strike's -0.5HP loss at the end of his turn) Soren loses -3.5HP. Hubert: 2.5/5

𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻, the lady whose ardor was steadfast and unrelenting, whose feisty tongue had humored him until her finality at his gloved hands――gloved, always to keep the other at arm's length and then some, seldom bare for the world to see his tainted image. Not that there was any shame to whittle him down to a mere skeleton, made weak in the heart by his deeds. Never.

His assailant is paradoxical, intent to finish their duel yet simultaneously bereft of any expressed interest in it. That sliver crescent that taunted the girl split his face, and Hubert, too, flipped ajar the contents of dark Luna. It pooled at his fingertips, halted momentarily by cutting winds――a lighter magic than what gathered at ivory-cloaked fingertips.

"If that is your wish, then agreed――however careless it may be."

The majesty in the palm of his hand, he loosed like a spiraling arrow. Midnight crowned the battlefield, illuminated his pallor, erupted into cube-made ebony and amethyst. And then again, a second strike――dark magic to taint the soul.

[atypicalsenerio]

Soren HP: 1.5/5

Hubert was a formidable opponent indeed. Dark magic always had an exceptionally cold, foreign sensation to it. He grimaced as it sapped his energy, poison setting in as Hubert’s close strike delivered more than pure magic. Soren winced, keeping his tome steady, even if he felt near falling to the ground from the blows he withstood.

“Hhgn.”

Cutting Gale Counter: 12, Hit! -1.5HP to Hubert.

Soren had enough for just one last spell in him, racing against the poison in his veins. Hubert was remarkably adept with dark spells, and Soren had no doubt his third casting would land. However, Hubert was quicker on the draw than Soren anticipated-

Vantage procs!

[crimsonvassalage]

Hubert’s Vantage Procs: Hubert counters Soren w/ Luna, Rolled: 17+6 = Hit! | -1.5HP to Soren (0/5) Hubert (1/5) Soren is defeated!

Edged with a scholar’s refined whetstone in magicks, his garb and flesh is torn asunder, sliced and trickling crimson, by winds ferocious and unrelenting; in retaliation, his body implores a rush of decisiveness to course his veins and inflame his resolve so that the pain was but a throb. His favored leg retreats to flank the other, to steady himself against harsh winds――tresses, afluttering, whip at his visage and tickle the face. 

Slendor digits conjure again dark Luna, flexed, sturdy in their resolve; he sends it forth to witness, lycanthropy-like, the downfall of man to moon. 

“That finality you so desired is upon you,” He retracts his hurling gesture, resuming poise and posture, brushing ebony tresses from his face. “The irony.” His smile, nefarious and visage-tainting, pulls his lips up, and only a shadow lingers in his departure. 

//✧𝔉𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭✧

[crimsonvassalage]

Soren HP: 5/5

Soren briefly wondered if this contest would conjure up some sort of “strongest dour-looking mage” betting pool. It was, theoretically, an even match. He wasn’t sure he liked his odds.

He took his position, tome open in his hands, breeze already whipping around him.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Cutting Gale Roll: 11, hit. With Fiendish Blow, -2.5HP to Hubert.

@Soren w/ Luna (Mixed: Melee) Rolled: 5+6(Dex&HS) = 11 | Hit! | -1.5HP to Soren Poison Strike! -0.5HP to Soren @Soren w/ Luna (Mixed: Melee) Rolled: 13+6(Dex&HS) = 19 | Hit! | -1.5HP to Soren (Note: Soren will sustain Poison Strike's -0.5HP loss at the end of his turn) Soren loses -3.5HP. Hubert: 2.5/5

𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻, the lady whose ardor was steadfast and unrelenting, whose feisty tongue had humored him until her finality at his gloved hands――gloved, always to keep the other at arm's length and then some, seldom bare for the world to see his tainted image. Not that there was any shame to whittle him down to a mere skeleton, made weak in the heart by his deeds. Never.

His assailant is paradoxical, intent to finish their duel yet simultaneously bereft of any expressed interest in it. That sliver crescent that taunted the girl split his face, and Hubert, too, flipped ajar the contents of dark Luna. It pooled at his fingertips, halted momentarily by cutting winds――a lighter magic than what gathered at ivory-cloaked fingertips.

"If that is your wish, then agreed――however careless it may be."

The majesty in the palm of his hand, he loosed like a spiraling arrow. Midnight crowned the battlefield, illuminated his pallor, erupted into cube-made ebony and amethyst. And then again, a second strike――dark magic to taint the soul.

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 with fervent affinity throughout the jargon-spewing texts of the academy: Gronder Field’s crimson farmlands painted anew with annual cheer——it was all bloodshed, but this was but a method of removing obstacles...if not through means questionable and despicable. However, such a lifestyle was not new dirt beneath his nails——it was a cyclical duty, repeating proper technique to draw crimson to ooze time and time again. 

She draws his to ooze first——a slice against the ribs, slitting the flesh so that it coats and cakes his pale side, tearing garb and the attire beneath. A hand, ivory-gloved, presses against his side——nevertheless, her impatience prompts a proximity no foe should so desire against their assailant. 

His lips remain sealed, and a thin eyebrow quirks; ivory digits flex at the side, thrumming with that caress of violence made real. He hurls forth the dark conjuration; a sliver, crescent-like and malicious, tugs sinister amusement to deepen his features. 

Rolled: (Luna: Melee Range) 20 (+4=24) = Crit | -3HP vs. Nanna (2/5HP) Hubert: 3/5HP Poison Strike: Nanna sustain's -0.5HP at the start of her next turn! (1.5/5HP)

“Your bearing can only be likened to nobility——Why ridicule yourself to a thief’s poise?” 

[hosannan]

Nanna believes herself thorough when it comes to combat, slighting him on the flank to force him back. She knew, as with any battle, she would have to fight hoping for crimson, but there's a needling feeling that has her gritting her teeth when she does. Flesh torn like ribbons, she wondered how different this felt, compared to the warmth of the Earth Sword post-blood shed. (The secret was, there was hardly a difference, once her heart began to drum violently against her chest.) Could she be so slipshod as to let that open palm and spindling twirl of his fingers be lost upon her? She braces herself as his digits wove a tapestry of the moon.

Its far too late for her to dodge, far too late for her to breathe actually. For all the times she was likened to the sun, the moon had never hurt her more. The force of the impact baffled even her, as she was sent rumbling backwards with a violent skid. The light of the moon had felt like an arrow flitting through her chest and upper shoulder—and her heart skipped urgently as the rest of her stomach was quick to convulse. There was a more sinister sinking feeling, like a toxin sifting through her blood. But could the moon really manage to cut her like that?

"You would do best not to confuse—" She coughs up this moon-struck blood. Shuttering, Nanna finds the grip on her sword nearly suffocating—a threat to them both, in this moment. "Not to confuse utility with degradation."

"I do not lower myself—" He's within close contact now, just close enough to hear her phase between heartbeats.

"I make do!"

Nanna attacks using Killing Edge. Roll = D20 = 11 for -1.5 HP. (Hubert: 1.5/5HP)

Poison Strike damages Nanna for 0.5 HP. (Nanna: 1.5/5HP)

"Ngh..." She grits her teeth, feeling the singe of something darker over take her.

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑻——the realization, the sear, the venin and stinging gush to flood the veins and render her askance; that sinister crescent that warped his face pinched at the corners, and her next severing of his flesh tugged it down. Resilient vermin made for an infestation to eradicate——she was no more than a pest under heel awaiting her inevitable end, powerless against a mercy he was not known for. Of course, boundaries of the legal sort prohibited any finality to be made in the decision process of whether not to devise an impromptu funeral. 

“Hm.” 

Lips pressed together, and the pallor that cloaked him——courtesy of her agility in methods of bloodletting——ushered a tremor-interrupted breath to push past pale lips; ivory gloves coated red alleviated the sears at his sides, dulling them to a mere throb. Her dilligence was due——this much, he could grant her in silent acknowledgement. 

Slender digits flex once more, and the familiar kiss of a spark flickers cubic sparks of ebony and majesty to his fingertips. Ebony, condensed to a void sphere of conjured violence, blossoms from scarlet-caked fingertips——he commands it forth, and its darkness consumes wholly his serpentine-wounded foe. 

Rolled: Luna (Mixed:Melee) | 6+4(Dex&HeartS)=10 | Hit! | Nanna (0/5HP) Nanna has been defeated! Hubert: (1.5/5HP)

Raw hands fold at the flank, and his posture erects itself——poised, renewed in victory. Eyes lime and keen witness the agony displayed upon a mien curtained by gold tresses and eyes of saturated emerald.

"Such a shame."

[hosannan]

Wrathlike | Round 1 { Hubert & Nanna

Grounder Field. Foreign land, foreign opponents—it serves to remind her that the world is far larger than she could have imagined. Just like war, there is no flare nor leading speech, just blades and tomes brandished against faces anew. Her dedicated training would pay off this time— surely. There is no apology to her glare, just a look between equals knowing they've chosen this well-worn path on their way up. His dark hair curtains over one eye, and she watches his hands carefully for any sudden, furtive movements.

"Do you hear that?" Nanna narrows her eyes as a grin ghosts her lips. She strikes a practiced, lower pose in order to circle around him—prowling. Praying. By Baldr, she knows how to pray.

With a strike of a mallet and iron in her heart, sparks and rocks spray as she forces herself of the ground. Best to make him hear what she hears, hm? Her borrowed blade has a thirst for blood, she's sure—the rush through her ears strikes her familiar. But she knows, even while air-bound, to listen to the wind before all else. With a half crescent strike into the air, she holds her breath.

Nanna attacks with Killing Edge using Wrath Strike. Roll = D20+2=5 Hit for -2HP

And her blade lands squarely on her fair opponent's side.

@crimsonvassalage

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 with fervent affinity throughout the jargon-spewing texts of the academy: Gronder Field’s crimson farmlands painted anew with annual cheer——it was all bloodshed, but this was but a method of removing obstacles...if not through means questionable and despicable. However, such a lifestyle was not new dirt beneath his nails——it was a cyclical duty, repeating proper technique to draw crimson to ooze time and time again. 

She draws his to ooze first——a slice against the ribs, slitting the flesh so that it coats and cakes his pale side, tearing garb and the attire beneath. A hand, ivory-gloved, presses against his side——nevertheless, her impatience prompts a proximity no foe should so desire against their assailant. 

His lips remain sealed, and a thin eyebrow quirks; ivory digits flex at the side, thrumming with that caress of violence made real. He hurls forth the dark conjuration; a sliver, crescent-like and malicious, tugs sinister amusement to deepen his features. 

Rolled: (Luna: Melee Range) 20 (+4=24) = Crit | -3HP vs. Nanna (2/5HP) Hubert: 3/5HP Poison Strike: Nanna sustain's -0.5HP at the start of her next turn! (1.5/5HP)

“Your bearing can only be likened to nobility——Why ridicule yourself to a thief’s poise?” 

[crimsonvassalage]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : Feb. 2023

Status: Passed

Points earned: +1 (activity) 

Points allocated to: Flying ( +1 = D)

Total points: 7 -> 8

Prompt/thread points ongoing!

Any Skill +1 - Eirika : Lamentable Labyrinth | Ineligible 

Authority +1 - Tiki : Cardfight!!! Something Whatever | Ineligible 

Event : Devoted Hearts : Feb. 2023 : 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔 & 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆 | ???| 944 (mastery investments)

(1) inventory additions!  

       ✦Dexterity+ (Flying rank D)

No new masteries ! 

HOUSEKEEPING

Faith +1 - Anankos : Nightmares

Riding +1 - Edelgard : Seaside

Gauntlets +1 - Linus : Five Finger Death Punch

Authority +1 - Leonardo : Help I Don’t Even Know What A “Katti” Is

[aegisshielded]

two emo boys does not equal one babygirl || Hubert & Felix

As the most successful scammers of the group, “Marth” and “Roy” are your biggest targets. A chance encounter in a large town brings you face to face with the two, but things turn complicated when a crowd forms in support of the imposters. A gaggle of fans proudly support these “down-to-earth princes”, viciously defending them against your supposed slander. Try as you might, just one sensuous “babygirl” from Marth is enough to rally the crowd against you. The puffed-up “Roy” goes as far as to say they are undefeatable in their strength and purity of heart… but can they prove it? [Grants Sword +1]

Of all the people to get paired up with for this stupid mission… 

While Felix, himself, tends to be the brooding quiet member of the Blue Lions students, he could never hold a flame to Hubert’s own dark, doom, and gloom aura. Perhaps it is the piercing eyes that seem to see through your skin and straight to your soul. Perhaps it is the fact that Hubert hardly ever looks pleased to see anyone do anything but meet misfortune (at least, as far as Felix is concerned). Regardless, being around the guy simply gives Felix the heebie-jeebies, and now he has to ignore it for the sake of getting a job done. 

Now tasked with tracking down and dealing with the latest criminal attempt at garnering fame and recognition through lies and deceit, the two dour boys make their way into town where it seems the enemy is going to make it easy for them. Already, a crowd of naive townfolk is gathering to grovel at the feet of what would appear to be—at least, to anyone who hadn’t bothered to read any kind of history book—Marth and Roy. Both royal men also happen to be members of the Blue Lions house, and these two imposters are not them, not by a long shot. 

Felix is ready to heave up his lunch as “Marth” winked at the crowd of swooning men and women, earning an outcry of pleas to wed them and quickly. With a scoff, Felix pushes his way into the crowd and points at the imposters just as “Marth” is calling someone “babygirl.” Eugh.

“Haven’t you got any shame? How the hell is anyone supposed to believe you two fools in dress-up are the real deal?” 

Immediately, the crowd is against him and Felix is met with angry faces shouting profanity at him for even suggesting anything of the sort. “Roy” speaks up above the angry voices, proclaiming that the two princes are undefeatable in their strength and purity of heart. Felix rolls his eyes, only to be met with more protesting from the fans in the crowd. With a huff of frustration, Felix narrows his eyes towards Hubert as though to say, “Do something already!”

@crimsonvassalage

[crimsonvassalage]

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑨 𝑭𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑬――a ploy, a poorly devised machination in pursuit of the lowly needs those destitute and talentless pursued religiously. It was deception, but he was no hypocrite; he knew the espionage of House Vestra far surpassed the questionable nature of a thief. This, however, was a mass mutiny, a staged coup against royalty aimed first against the common folk who, in Faerghus, suffered as is. A land of irreparable winters, blizzards that assailed as would a mighty foe, the instability in government...

Slender digits gloved in ivory tugged at the lapels of his heavy coat, drawing it tighter against his pallor. Already, at high noon when the sun should shine its brightest, the cold persevered against all warmth he could possibly draw to himself. He loathed the southernmost summers, but the northernmost winters displeased him equally. 

“Oh, but I believe you’re doing splendidly yourself.” The brash heir to the Fraldarius Dukedom――a hooked finger crowned the lips, and a chuckle hummed beneath the nape. “Impulsive as it was of you to run in and play the hero.”