#encursed

[serraic]

nue nue nue (soung of crying) — Team 12 Gold Round

   Things in life are cyclical. From the ashes of death comes birth again. From the night, comes day. In every ending, comes a new beginning. 

   And so, light bathes Serra once again, and though she should know better than anyone that life is a simple cycle of actions, it is a surprise to her.  

   She wakes, face down in the dirt. For many moments, she doesn’t move. She thinks — this must be death, to be laying here, like this, blankly. But finally feeling begins to break through a barrier of shock — pricks of pain against her skin, seeping wounds and scratches still fresh and smarting. 

   She pushes against the ground, and looks up. 

   Before her, whatever, another enemy, who cares. Around her is what’s more interesting. Veronica, decked out and poised as ever. Seliph and Hilda, slowly coming to terms. And best of all… best of all… 

   “Colm!” 

   Shakily, she puts feet beneath her body and runs. It’s a staggering, stumbling sort of run, but she still makes it in the end to the side of the boy she’d let die only moments ago. Thoughtlessly, she hugs him — throws arms around his shoulders and leans her weight against him for a moment, before his last few seconds play against her mind and she pulls back, swatting at him with no real power behind it, more a light tap of her hand. 

   “You promised you’d hang in there! What’s the matter with you? You wanted me to worry, did you? Ha… what a way to get a girl’s attention! Well, it’s not gentlemanly at all, you hear me? I’ll forgive you this time, but you’re on shaky feet, understand?” 

   Speaking of… he is looking a little worse for wear. And this time, she can fix that. 

   Holding her hand in the air like she would a staff, she summons healing magic. She’s surprised by the strength of it — the light seems to float not only to Colm, but to all of her other allies, too. 

Serra used Fortify. (1d20. Roll: 16. Great heal!) All allies recover 8 HP.  Hilda HP: 10/10 Seliph HP: 10/10 Veronica HP: 10/10 Colm HP: 10/10

   And even more of a shock, she feels her own wounds close in response to her healing light. “Wha…?” 

Serra recovers 8 HP from Live to Serve. Serra HP: 10/10

   Ha ha! Amazing! Everyone’s looking better now, and it’s all thanks to her! She’s prideful in the way she stands up straight — it seems her failure with Colm has been momentarily forgotten in face of her new help. Her eyes drift across the field, to Veronica, sizing up the enemy, and there’s pain in her chest, deflating her for a moment. 

   “Veronica… are you feeling better? I was so worried about you, too.” She moves to her side, Colm seemingly forgotten about now that she’d said her piece. “Don’t overwork yourself, alright? You have us to see you through!” 

   And sure enough, Serra feels ready to take on anything. This time, she’ll do better! This time… she won’t use magic so recklessly. 

   This time… no one will die! 

Alert Stance+ activates! Serra gains 6 avoid through the following enemy phase.

next: @encursed​

[disgracedvessel]

Paradise Lost [Julius & Veronica]

starter for @encursed

A village’s plea comes to the monastery: almost all of their children have vanished in the last couple days. A natural cause for great concern to be sure, and Garreg Mach does not hesitate to send you and some Knights to check out the situation. The distraught parents are not able to tell you much, but they recall a vague rumor of a “unicorn” appearing in the nearby woods, and the children wanting to see and befriend it. Sounds like the best shot you’ve got. [Grants Riding +1]

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

Abandoned toys littered the alleyways between the quiet thatch houses, as if the children who lived there had all grown up and moved away at the same time but their parents could not bring themselves to clean up the last memories of an innocence that they had guarded for so long. Spring was only just beginning to stretch its tendrils of green to this northern place, and the buds on the trees were still small and new. The sun had found the last of the snow piles, the villagers said, and the river that ran through the woods nearby was swollen with meltwater.

“Drowned.”

“Kidnapped.”

“Killed.”

No one could decide what had happened to their children. They hadn’t simply grown up overnight, and the rumors of some fantastical beast sighting was cited as a cause for their departure, but not the reason they had not returned yet, a week later. Dangers were well-known in the ancient forest that provided for them as much as it frightened them, but a confidence colored each attestation with the same shade of mourning denial:

“Unicorns don’t exist.”

Because if they did, then that would mean that their children had found happiness elsewhere. All of them. The stories believed to have captivated them so all carried the same themes: a fae paradise for the innocent, full of love reserved only for the naivety of children and virgins, guarded by a beautiful white ungulate with a single ivory horn which could judge the hearts of men.

No one could say what happened if the unicorn found darkness in one’s heart. It only approached children, the villagers said. If it existed. And surely their children were all innocent. Julius had excused himself for the inn’s hearth then, agitated by the remnants of winter’s chill that found its way inside the shoddy structure. And even as he stood in a patch of sunlight at the edge of the wood with two cloaks wrapped around his shoulders, the chill would not release him.

“Do the villagers expect us to wander about in these woods until we magically find their missing children?” Julius huffed, half-expecting the frigid air to condense his breath into a cloud. It didn’t. “I can’t imagine that they haven’t done that themselves already.” He sighed again, then glanced sidelong at Veronica. A fellow mage. And with an attitude even he thought had gone sour. “I suppose we ought to check the river first.”

[serraic]

5 school kids v a literal dragon (team 12 silver round)

   The world shifts once again, colors meshing and changing all around them. The paintings hadn’t all been defeated, yet the world was changing. It was just like before, with the metal creatures. They’d seemed to pass whatever gauntlet was up, and were being issued a new one. 

   Well, bring it on! They’d been doing pretty good! And Serra only had a few cuts and scrapes to show for her time here! She feels magic surge in her, befitting for someone of her strength and beauty. Surely, she can easily heal anyone or anything, no matter how far destroyed they are! 

   The dust around them settles. Burning amethyst eyes looks up, triumphant, at the face of their challenger. 

   And then all the color drains from her face. 

   There, before them, stands a winged creature, long fangs dripping from its maw. Its scales shine brilliantly in the light, and Serra can hear the crowd around them gasp and murmur in excitement.

   A dragon.

   It’s — too real. It’s not metal men, or possessed portraits — it’s a dragon. Something hot and sharp rises in her stomach, swirling and cramping. Her legs feel weak, and her breath catches on her closing throat as it attempts to release a puff of breath.

   Is Nergal back? Has this all been some horrible test by him? Maybe these were all his creations, all things he’d summoned from gates, or worlds, or created himself. Maybe this is a gauntlet to give the people a taste of the destruction yet to come. 

   She looks around at her companions — Veronica in a suit of armor, Colm with a bow, Hilda on a wyvern, Seliph… just a fancy guy, again — and she suddenly desperately wishes for Erk, or Kent, or Hector, or Marcus, or Lowen, or… 

   I’d even take Sain, right about now. 

   For once, Serra doesn’t yell out commands. She doesn’t say anything at all as the creature rears and thumps against the ground. Beneath her and her allies, the ground crumbles, and she collapses, along with them, into pile. 

Primordial Serpent attacks the whole party with Earthquake. (d20: 9. Barely Hit!) Serra HP: 7/10

   The first thing she sees is Colm. He’s covered in obvious scrapes and bruises, and is bleeding pretty profusely as he moves. But he’s moving, at least. Someone who’s not— 

   “Veronica…” 

   It’s a whisper. Barely a breath. But it spills from her, anyway, as she stares at her ally, grown still, growing cold.

   … She was wrong. She can’t heal anything. 

   She hardly has time to think, for the creature seems to zero in on her. It opens its disgusting mouth, and— 

Primordial Serpent attacks Serra with Poison Spit. (d20: 19. Hit!) Serra HP: 4.5/10

Serra is inflicted with Serpent’s Poison! 

   “No…” It stings, where the poison settles. She feels woozy — she staggers as the world spins around her, attempting to get her footing, to settle, to focus, to… “N… no!” 

   It can’t end like this. She has to— she has to do something. ( She’s morally opposed to fighting. But— that hasn’t stopped her this entire time, has it? She’s got to, she’s got to, she’s got to— ) “AHHHHHH!”

Serra counterattacks twice with Aureola. (2d20+3: 18, 11. Crit! Crit!) Primordial Serpent HP: 40/40 Serra HP: 2.5/10

(d4: 2) Gaping Maw doesn’t activate.

   It — hurts, using magic this way. Attacking with magic… sieving this boiling, sickly anger through her powers… it’s wrong. And she’s punished for it. She feels weaker, now… and the enemy has taken absolutely no damage. 

   She’s failing… she’s failing. But at least she can heal Colm, and then—... then—...! 

   Her thoughts are cut off as the beast spits again. Serra watches, horrifically slowly, as this time, Seliph is attacked, with the same poison she’d just been beleaguered with. He, too, looks worse for wear… just as bad as Colm, even. She’s frozen with indecision, hands crossed over her, as though she’s attempting to keep warm in a frigid cold. 

Serra recovers 2 HP with Renewal!

   A sharp pain in her side alleviates, only slightly… it gives her some room to think. Colm or Seliph, Colm or Seliph… They’re both equally injured, and Seliph has been missing a lot… but he has such a terrifying-looking blade... and surely that’s better, here... right? 

   Agh, if only Mark were here to choose for her!  

   It’s nearly a full minute of vacillating before she comes to her decision. “Colm… h— hang in there… I’ll get you next, okay?” Something cold settles in her throat at the words, barely loud enough to sound through the arena. She was the only healer, and if the dragon does that attack again… 

   This isn’t fair! She’s a healer! She’s not supposed to make these decisions! She’s supposed to be able to save everyone, but… 

   “Seliph… please... don’t let us down!” 

Serra heals Seliph with Recover. (1d20: 12. Great Heal!) Seliph: 6.5/10 HP

Alert Stance+ activates! Serra gains 6 avoid through the following enemy phase. Serpent’s Poison is active. Serra loses 1 HP and 0.5 mag/str. Serra HP: 3.5/10

next: @encursed 

[serraic]

@encursed

   The Garreg Mach Monastery must be severely understaffed, because Serra had barely been here a day, and they were already requesting her assistance in the infirmary. Maybe they just desperately needed someone of her skill — had been waiting for someone like her to arrive! Hehehe... They were lucky, indeed, that she’d been sent here! 

   For the day, she was told, she’d be working with someone else. It was her first day in the infirmary. But she walked in with the confidence and bearing as though she owned the place. 

   “You’re Veronica, aren’t you?” She matched the description she’d been given, anyway. “I’m Serra.” And that’s all she got before Serra... began. “As your senior cleric, I hope you’ll listen carefully to everything I have to say! I’m not going to repeat myself, and I’ll likely move very quickly, tending to patients. Try to keep up with me, alright?” 

[hresvelged]

[ DANCE ]

It would make for a useful alliance, for Embla to align with an empire equal with its power; especially considering whose head would be burdened with the crown. Veronica approaches her House Leader, hence, armed with all the grace and poise of one standing in the shadow of the throne.

"Princess Edelgard. I don't think we've been properly introduced." Veronica says, her hand outstretched. She gives her a slight bow. "I am Veronica. I'd..." she takes in a deep breath, "I'd like to dance with you. Please."

The way a person moves speaks for their character⁠— Their poise, their charm, and even their power. To show one’s confidence in dance means to continue on no matter what. She is in a position where she cannot afford to do anything else, tucking away emotions for the sake of her ambitions. Reds and oranges color the sky’s horizon, befitting for the day’s end. She basks in its warmth for the briefest of moments, crimson bursts complimenting the house adorned in reds and blacks.

She would find it ill-suiting if she did not have a basic understanding of those who enter the Black Eagles— For their futures (the future, rather), there are many incentives and purposes. While Adrestia is in her hands alone, much can be obtained from other lands. She offers a proper greeting of her own, head lifted high as she nods. “I’m pleased we finally have the opportunity to better acquaint ourselves.”

A look of wonder rests atop her face momentarily. By the way Veronica speaks, it is clear to her that this is something of an important act. While that in itself is never surprising, she awaits to see what kind of dance will come of it. There are no prying eyes here, only herself and her classmate. Edelgard takes Veronica’s hand within her own, the space around them shifting from idle talk to the world of waltz. “I’d be happy to. I take it you have experience⁠— Perhaps as much as I.” A conjecture, nonetheless spoken with conviction. “If that is the case, then.. I look forward to it.”