Trick or defeat? [Bronze round]
The arena is waiting for you. Try you hands at new weapons and best a variety of opponents! Open to all.
These had been the words on the flier that strange man wearing a pumpkin on his head had shoved into the professor’s hand as she’d wandered around the festivities checking out the stalls. She didn’t know if he was distributing them to everyone or had singled her out due to her armour and obvious weaponry but the swirling purple text had intrigued her enough to head to the stated location.
Upon arrival she noticed a small crowd of students and staff alike, mingling outside a colourful circus looking tent. She waved at a few faces she recognised and waited to be told what was going on.
“Welcome to Phantasmagoria‘s famous arena!” A voice projected into the crowd. Byleth looked around and spotted another character with a pumpkin head on a small stand addressing them all. “Who dares enter it’s walls, leaving your weapons behind, and taking up something new against our dastardly cast of enemies? Treats await for the victors and for the vanquished... perhaps a trick will suffice”
While it was a strange premise, the mercenary was alway ready to throw down in combat so Byleth carefully removed her sword and placed it in the provided barrel. Looking at the options available, she picked the steel lance and scroll containing a new spell.
They milled around in the holding area whilst each team was called forwards. Eventually it was just her, Dierdre, Pulmeria and Michalis left.
“Guess you lot are the final team. Hee Hee!” Came a high pitched voice from a shorter robed figure. “This way. This way. Hee Hee!”
The arena itself was more a glorified patch of dirt in the centre of the tent. The outer edge of the circle glowed faintly indicating the presence of magic. It pulsed blue as each of them entered. Awaiting them were their opponents. A short archer with an even shorter bow, a muscle brawler type bashing his fists together in preparation and a soldier in elaborate armour. Presiding above them was a cavalier on a huge black horse, dressed in pitch black armour to match.
“Let’s the fight commence!”
Byleth drew her lance from her back and held it in front of her defensively. “I’ll go first” she told her team charging at the soldier.
Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -4HP [Soldier : 2/6 HP]
The ashen demon lived up to her moniker, stabbing the soldier through the clavicle with the point of the lance, driving them to the floor and pinning them there.
Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -3HP [Byleth : 7/10HP]
However, Byleth struggled to remove the lance from the puncture wound, unuse to its increased length compared to her sword. As she tugged at the weapon, she felt a searing sensation in her leg where the soldier had taken his own lance and swiped in across her thigh leaving a deep gash.
Eventually the lance came free and Byleth retreated to join the rest of her team. “That soldier wont take much more” She informed them. “But it came at a cost. New weapons are tricky”
@secretforestlady
