SON OF YNGVI

aff. febail ( fe4 ) rp blog black eagles student

[yewfallen]

genealogy of the holy bow

ulircursed​:

     “I… see.” Surprise flitted across his expression for only a moment before Andrei nodded, filing this information away in his mind. He hadn’t asked about Febail’s past during their first meeting, but it seemed that he himself was not the only one struck by mysterious circumstances before arriving in these lands.

     As much as it sounded like Scipio had been able to keep Yngvi standing in the years lost to the temporal shift— “No matter how talented he is with a bow… he’s not a successor of Ullr’s power.” His father’s voice echoed in his memories. Inevitable, thus, that Febail’s appearance would mean his death, if he would not simply give it up and step aside. The bearer’s political intentions mattered little when they had the divine birthright itself backing them up.

     “…It’s fortunate that you were able to regain your memories with the aid of our holy weapon,” Andrei said to his nephew, a little tightly, “Our house can ill afford to lose bearers of Ullr’s mark to amnesia of all things.”

   “ I don't get you. ”  Febail's words come out without delicacy and without the proper time to think things through.  “ So what, I've got the brand? Don't get me wrong, it means the world to me, but shouldn't you hate it? The way you hate my mother? All this brand ought to mean to you is that I'm hers. ”  

After all, this brand proved that the so-called traitor of House Yngvi had managed to escape death long enough to pass her blood on. Febail too was an extension of betrayal to House Yngvi even if its palace shall one day fall into his hands.

“ 'Course, what you think doesn't really change things much. I'm still gonna return to Yngvi once I've found my mother, so our house ain't losin' out on me or anything until then. ”

[yewfallen]

critical malpractice

ulirblood​:

the tension in remire village was at it’s high point, and understandably so. they were dealing with a potentially new disease that they are unsure about. they have yet to figure out how it even starts, mistakes are bound to be made; and fights are bound to break out.

she hears a scream of pain and it instantly snaps her out of the intimate conversation she was having with one of the villagers. “i’m sorry. please wait here a moment.” she smiles, voice angelic but gaze serious. with that, she rushes to where the commotion is.

she makes it just in time to see someone pull back a fist against one of the researchers brought from the monastery. “don’t you dare hit him!” she shouts, voice rising and, strangely, maternal instinct taking over at the sight of a student who’s name she doesn’t know. she finally pushes through the slowly forming crowd of onlookers, emerging for the student to get a good look at her.

she continues, because she knows simply telling someone to stop, especially with this tension, isn’t going to change anything. “you are not going to gain anything from this young man.” she lets out an angry huff and gets closer to them, feeling undeterred despite threats of violence that could possibly turn against her as well . “you might feel good about it in the moment but what about after? are you going to make any meaningful change by beating up a man who can’t even fight back?”

  His fist stops just short of its target, requiring all the self control Febail can muster when he looks back to the woman who has stopped him. He glares, not keen on being interrupted whilst his blood boils as it does, but the sight of her face shocks him.

Gods, she looks slightly different, but that face and that voice— they're undeniably—

“ Aunt Edain?! ”  Shit, shit, shit, shit...!!! How long has it been since he last saw ( and bailed ) on her?! Had it been literally anyone else who had stopped him, he would've talked back, but to his only aunt??

He lets his boot up off the doctor's injured hand but levels a harsh stare back at him, whispering through clenched teeth,  “ Don't you dare lay another hand on those folks. ”  The researcher’s relief is short lived, ending on a whimper but not the clear assent Febail’s looking for, but there’s not much he can pressure out of the guy as he feels his aunt’s gaze bore into him.

He rises to stand tall then, stalking off but passing Edain as he does so. In a voice meant only for her,   “ We can talk 'bout everything later. Just not in front of anyone. ”

[yewfallen]

silent hill

lafilledenaga​:

Why did she say yes!? After the kiss things had been…awkward to say the least. She had no idea what possessed her that night, but Julia prayed to Naga that it would never ail her ever again. Febail had been kind enough to offer help and she…used it. The fact that he would even be willing  to spend time with her after that night was beyond her comprehension.

Still, Febail was a friend of hers. If he truly felt comfortable enough to spend the day with her, than she saw no reason not to. She did miss his company.

“Oh! Febail!” She holds the bottom of her dress as she runs to meet him. Her ‘costume’ was a bit lazy compared to his– she threw on one of her gowns and called it a day. So long as she wasn’t in her uniform it counted as a costume right?

Her eyes are on everything except for Febail, entranced by the atmosphere of the festival itself. “How incredible…thank you for inviting me– it all looks so fun.” Julia smiles, finally turning to look at the archer with rosy cheeks. “I like your costume…”

   “ It's no trouble... ”  And that was the truth. Inviting her out was the least he could do; it was practically free of cost and it was during a time he was free. Besides, getting to see her marvel at the sights and come to life with it was a practically a treat in itself.

He hadn't seen that look on her often, much less recently. Julia in his memory had always seemed trapped in a state of sorrow or listlessness, so seeing her brighten up like she was now was like seeing the sun come out and part the dreary clouds of a storm-razed sky.

She should be allowed to be like this more.

But it looks like he wasn't allowed to be the only one caught up in admiring how the other looked, even if they had their focuses on completely different aspects. Febail turns bashful as he adjusts the cap resting on his head.  “ I'm not sure how I feel about it myself, but... If you like it, I guess it's not half bad. ”  

After all, she should be the one to get to enjoy this day.

“ Come on. Let's walk around and do some stuff. ”  He goes to grab her hand but at the last moment stops himself, letting his arm swing back down by his side. Best not to do anything to make her too conscious of him, plus it wasn't like she was a kid who'd get lost in a crowd.  “ It doesn't need to just look fun. It's your call, alright? ”

[yewfallen]

in defense of the young

aurheatum​:

Rhea sighs the moment Febail and the mother leave her. For things to have progressed this far… no, she must not hesitate. Trusting that Febail will be back soon Rhea puts a chilled hand to the child’s forehead and biting down on the pad of her other hand’s finger draws her own blood with a healer’s serenity.

“Let’s see if you can drink.”

-

Relieved upon coming back to the room that her child’s spasming has stopped and the fever seems to react well to the ice she soon rejoins Febail outside. Just in time it seems too - seems that dog Tom wasn’t content just watching from the next plot o’ land over and had brought some other sight seers with him. The sight of them ganging up on the boy makes her own blood boil. Sure, he had spoken to her in that sort of way too but that was because had had some good in him.

Not these folks.

“Tom!” She pulls herself to her full height, grateful for the presence farm life has given her and for the shocked look on those men’s faces. As if she would cower from ‘em! “And is that Gael from the tavern? I hope you aren’t giving this kind young knight any trouble seeing as he’s doing his duty.”

She locks eyes with Febail and sees the own fire within her reflected there. She hopes he won’t mind her bending the truth a bit.

“Your mistress is nearly done, she says. Those herbs you brought with worked wonders on Helene. No more need for snow,” she smiles, bares her teeth at the men outnumbering her and the boy.

“Now, you all wouldn’t be in the business of bothering a holy lady would you?”

  Startled to hear the woman back, he's impressed she's able to hold her own against the men. The lot of them grumble, disbelieving, but one of them brings up,  “ Those fancy Knights of Seiros were meant to be coming here. My wife said she even saw the Archbishop. ”

Not the Archbishop, one of them mutters. Out here? Murmurs and conspiratorial whispers abound, it eventually ends with their ringleader spitting out,  “ I see, no trouble at all. C'mon lads, we best beat it. ”  Before he leaves fully, however, Tom looks over his shoulder with a threat:

“ We'll see just how hale Helene is later. ”

It's only when the group of men are out of earshot that Febail turns to the mother, shuffling back inside with her.   “ You mean what you said 'bout Helene back there? 'm glad if so. ”

[yewfallen]

ulircursed​:

     Gripping Febail’s hand briefly, Andrei’s gaze traveled downwards to his bow arm at the other’s question. “This is… an older injury,” he said, the memories of the final battle swirling to the forefront of his mind — Yewfelle’s shining arrow, lighting up his sister’s grief-filled expression. That one final moment of contentment before everything faded out, and he woke up at the foot of the path leading up to Garreg Mach, just like the one they were treading at the moment. Andrei sighed.

     “…My sister and I fought,” he said, turning towards the steed and busying himself with its reins in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “She was the one who emerged victorious, in the end.” His hand curled unconsciously against the throbbing in his chest at that thought, but he pushed it away with a shake of his head a moment later. “It matters not. It is but a minor hindrance,” he said, tone forcibly light. His current weakened state was no excuse to sit around idly while there were missions to be finished. What Febail said earlier made sense. Perhaps he, too, was incomplete without his bow in hand.

     “When we next meet, my arm will likely have healed. I shall not disappoint then,” he said, and while his voice remained polite, cordial even, a faint spark of defiance lit in Andrei’s gaze as he turned back towards his fellow bow user. Even here, with his family name unknown to most, there was never a situation where he was truly free of the expectations of others, after all.

  A family spat so viscerally deep it manifested into a long-lasting injury? Though Andrei says it matters not, Febail can't imagine it to be true. Though Febail recalls nothing of his family sans what he's been told, he still understands the pain of an injury, much less a chronic one— one that might last forever.

And for that to be caused by someone meant to be at your side from start to finish? The depths of such a conflict must run deeper than Febail could even imagine.

But because Andrei tries to downplay it, Febail knows he cannot speak on the matter. It's not his concern, he knows, and so he has no business sticking his nose in it, much less on behalf of someone he's just met.

“ I see, ”  is all he can manage as a result then— flat, stoic, as detached as is required of such a situation. It's not any of his business, he reminds himself.

Instead, he meets Andrei's promise head on, nodding.  “ Gotcha. Maybe then, I'll get to see what yer really made of. ”

It's a promise in the most noncommittal way, as befitting of near strangers with no reason to believe in the certainty of their bond, but right underneath their noses runs an invisible string that ties them together far more than just coincidence.

The string is red, it is holy, and it is the blood of Ullr as it streams between them both— marking the two as sons of Yngvi no matter how many years apart they may be.

                                                                                 — the end.

[yewfallen]

cover your tracks

hezulion​:

You make arrangements with the village for part of the delivery to be sent ahead early, hoping that it will reach its destination safely with a less conspicuous party. In the early hours of the morning these villagers arrive at your camp, and after a few words and easy smiles you watch them pack their wagon with your gifts and go on ahead of you. An hour later, another set of villagers arrive at your camp, insisting that they are here to pick up part of their shipment, as arranged. They even show you the letter that you sent to them confirming the exchange, something those first villagers definitely didn’t have. A fast rider should be able to catch up to the thieves! [Grants Riding or Flying +1]

The sun had yet to rise above the horizon as the sky slowly transitioned from indigo to rose. Ares found his head lolling to the side as his body threatened to fall asleep on him. It was so quiet and peaceful, he was grateful that Febail didn’t feel the need to make idle conversation at such an early hour. With their job already done and the villagers sent off on their way there was little left to do until they headed back to the monastery.

Or that had been the plan. Instead another group of villagers arrived at their base of operations about an hour after the first. Ready to dismiss it as a scam, Ares found his mouth hanging open upon seeing the paperwork.

“Those bastards stole the shipment!” Ares growled, stalking across the room to pick up his sword. The villagers were desperate for supplies, yet he and his comrades had given them away to blackhearted scoundrels without taking proper care to ensure they were given to the right people. There was no hope of making chase on foot but perhaps this mistake could be corrected if they left now and borrowed a pair of mounts. He turns to Febail, the only other person at the station trained in combat and quirks an eyebrow. “Coming?”

@yewfallen

  And Febail thought he was quick to anger, but Ares's shout could clearly give him a run for his money— not that such rage was unfounded. Villagers could use the supplies, and common people already had enough troubles to deal with without factoring in bandits.

But an hour had already passed. Febail's only a foot soldier, always has been, and though he's trekked a decent amount of land in the past, the villagers likely wouldn't be able to wait the entire day it might take Febail to catch up and grab everything once the bandits had stopped to rest.

“ On what mounts? ”  he asks, noting how Ares's typical horse wasn't with him. Maybe they could have shared a ride then, but that wasn't in the cards.

It's at that point one of the suppliers from the monastery pipes up.  “ We have two if you're able to ride... ”

Well, Febail hardly could call himself a full-fledged bow knight, but he's had a little experience with riding... If he could outpace a huge monster, then maybe it'd work out. Decided, Febail nods.  “ Alright then. I'll take a horse. ”

And so he alights on the steed they give him, Yewfelle strapped onto his back. Gripping the reins, he tries to figure out how to set off first at a canter, but instead the horse, sensing his urgency, bolts off at breakneck speeds, leaving Ares behind in the dust as its rider is rushed off haplessly yelping.

Unbeknowst to Febail, he had taken the only horse, for when the supplier goes to speak to Ares, they offer instead,  “ I suppose that leaves you our pegasus. Will the two of you be alright...? ”

[yewfallen]

I Put You Through Hell

lockpicnic​:

The Garland Moon is supposed to be the start of the rainy season, but these recent hot days and rainless nights could have fooled you. A new well would let the villagers tap into a new reservoir of groundwater (not to mention you’re in dire need of their goodwill). In a few days, you all manage to get pretty far down. Your massive accomplishment turns into your worst nightmare, however, when your rope tethering you to the surface manages to untie itself. You’re left trapped in a well with no one, not even Lassie, to hear your cries for help. Are you strong enough to climb your way out of here? [Grants Heavy Armor +1]

@yewfallen

Patty trusted Febail with her life– he was her brother. He did nothing but protect her all her life, and she doubts that that would end now just because she made a little oopsie and kinda, sorta died during that big mission they were on. She finally got to go on a big adventure without her brother’s protection– she was old enough to take care of herself!

And then she died, unable to even tell him herself.

She hoped that it would end there, with the two of them avoiding each other and never talking about it ever again. It really wasn’t that serious– she was alive now! Life, sadly, had other plans for her. It felt like some sort of cruel joke. One of her professor’s asked if she’d be willing to help out with the new well, and before even hearing the full details she said yes. If she was away from the school and busy working, then there was no chance of running into her brother and having an awkward conversation.

Now she was stuck at the bottom of a well, Febail waiting at the top to pull her back up to the surface. Of course he would also be here– why would it be anyone else? She couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow done this on purpose.

Patty was hard at work, digging deeper, when she heard a strange noise from above. 

Snap

“F-Febail? What was that?” Slowly she looked up, noticing the rope between herself and the surface falling to her feet. She panicked, clawing at the nearest wall in an attempt to climb back up to the top. “Hey– I-I’m stuck! D-do ya got ‘nother rope by any chance?”

   “ Huh? ”  Before Febail's even done foraging the nearby area for herbs, he hears a snap and then the echoes of his sister calling for him. He shifts focus, running to see what happen just as she explains her current predicament.

Shit.

“ Looks like the support we put down for your rope snapped. 'm sorry. ”  Though he tries to sound calm, on the inside he's panicking. He can't just leave his sister down there, but jumping down won't make anything better either. He also can't stand the idea of just leaving her for even a second even if it's to try and shop around for some more rope. Not while she's in trouble. He needed to remain in earshot of her.

He peers down into the well, trying to spot her head of golden locks. Think, Febail, think. Think of something else about the possibility of her dying down there.

Honestly, if she did, he'd rather just jump down there too.

“ Alright, Patty. I don't have much of anything to work with, but I'm stayin'. I'll help ya climb up, but you gotta change the way yer doin' it, y'hear me? ”  His pulse races, finger nails scratching against the edge of the well he's leaning over.  “ Y'can't scale it like a cliffside. Y'gotta hop up and stick yer legs straight out like yer sittin', feet flat against the well wall. Can ya do that? ”

If not, he was gonna have to think of another plan.

[yewfallen]

critical malpractice

Mission Task Board: Retaining knowledge of the last timeline can be a boon, and the church aims to use it to its advantage for whatever the future may bring. One of the concerns that remains is about the strange zombification of the villagers in Remire before time was reset. The tragedy had come on so suddenly that no one saw it coming then. Not this time. Several of Fódlan’s best medical researchers have traveled with you to conduct tests on the villagers to ensure that nothing nefarious lies dormant here. Fódlan has no Nuremberg Code yet, but you can tell when your colleagues are doing something they probably shouldn’t….  // @ulirblood

   “ You piece of trash! I knew we shouldn't've brought you lowlifes! ”  Febail's voice carries as he grabs one of the medical researchers by the front of their shirts, fist ready to rattle them. The camp set up for those coming from Garreg Mach is quickly thrown into an uproar, the two of them the centerpiece of it all.

Despite how onlookers to the mess just watch, the doctor being accosted still seems to be trying to maintain a level of calm. “ I am just trying to do my job and save lives! ”

“ Yeah, right. Like messin' with people's lives and ruinin' 'em makes ya a saint. You scum are all the same. ”  Febail roughly throws the researcher down onto the ground, but he doesn't let up for even a second, quickly crossing to stomp his foot on the doctor's outstretched palm. The doctor screams in agony.  

“ Someone, help! This man is...! ”

“ Why don't I do my job too and shut you up, huh? ”  Febail leans down, cracking his knuckles. He winds his arm back, fist poised to strike—

[verseandrhyme]

macawbre​:

fortune favors the bold​​​​

She’s quick to end it. And it’s quick to end. But in the clear of vision there’s a glint coming from behind him that he does not need to see with his eyes. It glimmered readily, as though teasing him. Miracle magic. Henry turned on the ball of his feet, but not fast enough to block what was coming to him. A warlock knew their tricks, he supposed. Henry breathes in, eyes not enough to match the lightning this desperate fool had summoned. 

Desperate. Desperate. “Mitama! Watch out!”

He knows the warlock has it in for one of them. But Bohr’s a spell that follows, a spell that bets. It gambles everything into a single deal on the table. Henry leapt out of the way, knowing full well that the sigil that flashed before him was unavoidable. But it could only take one target. Out from thin air blared a violet vortex, filled with dark matter and fields of concentrated electricity. It seethed like teeth from the jaws of space itself, compounding and expanding simultaneously to elicit a killer black hole. 

He’s out of range now. Of her. Which is great. Because he’s not here to play the hero and he’s not here to save her. He’s here to make death make a little sense. And if this is a game, death is meaningless. There’s not a point in the world to lose someone else just to “play pretend.”

“ARGGH…!”

Warlock rolled 15. Bohr reduces Henry’s HP: 0.5/10 HP

Hit with that black hole, he felt the very matter of his being be gambled away like meat on a stake. Sliced into pieces and proffered to a power below, a power above. And every molecule in him screamed just for a second before falling into deafening silence. To be honest, if he had to die, he thought Bohr was a pretty good shot. Didn’t hurt more than a moment. He had to take note of that somewhere in his scrolls.

Gritting his teeth, Henry let out a choked gasp as the gambit finished its course. The thing about dark magic was everything came at a price. One cliff-hanging hit and he was left on a tether. But Bohr was never enough to kill someone dead. That’s just how the gambit worked.

Softly, vehemently, Henry’s eyes opened. And he smiled. “An eye for an eye, ahaha!”

The meteors that plummeted from the sky eviscerated the warlock in one final blow. Henry doesn’t need to go into the details. It’s all be seen before. But it’s a beautiful, horrific sight, those meteors. Like hellfire from the very sky the divine are supposed to cherish. 

Henry rolled a 16+4. Hit! Meteor brings the Warlock’s HP down to 0. Warlock defeated. (Finally)

“Okay… I uh… Think we’re up for one last round. Mind if you heal me up a little? I’m feeling kinda crispy.”

@verseandrhyme​

She feels the burst of magic before she sees it, before she realizes what had happened. She thinks for a moment that it is Henry again, casting one last spell, but that makes no sense. Why would he, when their enemy is already felled…unless..

Mitama’s eyes widen and she spins back around in time to see Henry counter the mistakenly still standing Warlock one final time. Henry looks dead on his feet and instinct pulls the magic of her hand quicker than the mind that still struggles to process the scene in front of her.

Mitama rolls a 6. 2 Health. Henry’s Health: 2.5/10.

Faith magic courses through her and soothes Henry’s wounds but it is not enough. Not enough…Mitama rushes over, another spell already on her lips but the round is ended. The spell snaps away from her just as all the weapons and spells the illusionist has given them and Mitama has to bite down forcibly on her lip to prevent herself from screaming out loud.

Fine. Fine. She would wait, then, and finish the job at the start of the next round. She could be patient for that long.

After all, what could the illusionist possibly have left to conjure?

[macawbre]

once more onto the breach

yewfallen​:​

   “ Write, wh—? ”  The fact that Mitama had composed a poem of some sort completely goes over Febail’s head, but even if he’s confused, he’s already envisioning the fire building at his fingertips, transforming that visualization from imagination to reality with a spark of life.

The poison may continue swimming through his streams of blood, but his own anima magic fights against it and overpowers it again and again through his sheer will alone.

Febail sustains Toxic Poison damage. Febail’s HP: 8/10. Febail casts Forblaze on Sophrosyne. 1d20 roll: 10. Hit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 0.5/20.

That spark bursts into bright flames and traps their reptilian foe, pushing Forblaze’s flames onto the projection and onto the precipice of life and death. Close but not quite. Febail grits his teeth as his spell ends.  “ Yer one annoyin’ li'l…! ”  // @macawbre​

Lost all his bets on this one. Eh! They’ll learn. 

“Okay, okay, okay, OKAY, okay.” He shook off his sentimental, sappy-wappy thoughts and paced as close to ol’ Sophy as possible. Taken by an upstream breeze, his cape tapered in the air, biding its time before the end. His students had shot their shots, plastering the thing with every last ounce of strength they had. It was down on its last legs, so… What a pleasure it was, to be dropped in front of a Mercy Kill. 

“Just cause I’m nice! You’ll never need to move again, nya ha ha!”   Right? Wringing the last of Sophrosyne’s health was the last of his worries. He kind of wanted to see if he could just bring the whole place down. Just once. 

Cracking open his palms, magic sigils thundered open, spinning ancient symbols haphazardly until they all fell into place. Henry’s entire body crackled with dark energy, simmering and spitting like the depths of the night. Stokes of raw power spiked from his hands, onto the ground, as a black light honed in on Sophy’s widdle bitty scales. The entire arena thundered like nails on a chalkboard, as his magic began to sieve the entire training grounds into stunted pieces. Violently, vehemently, filled with every bit of chaos he had been holding back, Henry let out a very, very… 

Lighthearted laugh.

“When you go back, tell Grima to keep my bed warm!” 

Henry casts Quake on Sophrosyne. 1d20 roll: 20+4. Crit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 0/20. Enemy unable to counter. Galeforce activates. Henry casts Quake on Sophrosyne. 1d20 roll: 17+4. Hit! 6 damage. Defeated!

Jutting, ragged stone stabbed upwards, as the floor grinded and cracked open. With a screech, Sophrosyne sealed its own fate. As the trembling erupted from every corner of the arena, Sophrosyne plummeted into the ground, swallowed up whole by the maw of this very Earth. Hell was a pretty toasty place for ghosts, he thought.

Breathing in deeply, his arms finally sunk to his sides in peace. Was that it? Did the projectionist run out of tricks to throw at them? Was he supposed to feel awarded from all this? 

Observing the way his dark magic ravaged the stage, Henry supposed he could let this victory bring on a humbled little laugh. 

“Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmm.” He buzzed around, chin resting between the crevice of his thumb and index. The poison should have worn off by now, given that they were just fighting projections and all but… Looking at them from top to bottom, he stuck a hand straight into the air, calling for one of the aids to get in here and… 

“Can someone bring me a restore? You’re going to get my kids killed, ahaha!”

                                                                             —end.

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach

verseandrhyme​:

Oh of all the- stubborn bastard, staying alive.

Febail dealt with their first target easily, but there was no time to celebrate its defeat with the bird still flying around, still capable and out for blood. Mitama’s own, it seemed. Too much going on, not enough focus, but she hissed sharply as one of its talons drifted down close enough to nick her shoulder in passing. 

Sophrosyne rolls a 2. Barely Hit! 0.5 damage. Mitama’s Health: 9.5/10. Mitama is toxic poisoned!

Worry floods through her quickly. She is well aware of the poison that the beast deals, having watched Febail immediately suffer its afflictions. She can feel in the system already, seeping under the skin, and she holds her breath but…nothing. She waits, but no pain comes, nothing that can overpower the soothing pulse from the strange ring.

Lucky…she would be best to make the most of it.

Mitama rolls a 6. Barely hit! 0.5 Damage. Sophrosyne’s Health: 1.5/20.

The stupid spell flutters weakly again and only barely manages to clip its wing in passing and dusk take this beast she was so tired of being here and fighting and healing and she just wanted to take a nap…

“Come on already!” She whined, throwing her hands down in frustration. She wished she could try again. She wished so badly she could cast and try again. “Five whole rounds of this / Exhaustion in ev’ry step / I am tired of this…I cannot even write anymore, just die!”

@yewfallen​

   “ Write, wh—? ”  The fact that Mitama had composed a poem of some sort completely goes over Febail's head, but even if he's confused, he's already envisioning the fire building at his fingertips, transforming that visualization from imagination to reality with a spark of life.

The poison may continue swimming through his streams of blood, but his own anima magic fights against it and overpowers it again and again through his sheer will alone.

Febail sustains Toxic Poison damage. Febail’s HP: 8/10. Febail casts Forblaze on Sophrosyne. 1d20 roll: 10. Hit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 0.5/20.

That spark bursts into bright flames and traps their reptilian foe, pushing Forblaze's flames onto the projection and onto the precipice of life and death. Close but not quite. Febail grits his teeth as his spell ends.  “ Yer one annoyin' li'l...! ”  // @macawbre​

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach​

verseandrhyme​:​

“Well yelling about the jinxes is not going to do him any use now, is it?” Shit. Shit. Everything had been going so well and then suddenly, for what felt like the billionth time in this entire affair, Soren was removed from their group and sent off to…wherever it was that the illusionist was sending the fallen. Mitama clucks her tongue impatiently as she glares down at the great beasts before them.

Because for all her irritation at how squishy Soren seemed to be, she cannot help but think his chances of survival would have been better had she been better. And yet here she was, still failing them.

Her attention is grabbed once more by a tremor that shakes the ground. No harm comes to her beyond her heart leaping to her throat in surprise, but the great turtle does shake and struggle to stand before collapsing onto its knees before them.

She does not need Henry to shout to spot an opportunity presented.

Mitama rolls a 7. Hit! 2.5 Damage. Gofannon’s Health: 1.5/20.

The spell lights a terrible path across the battlefield when she throws it in the turtle’s direction. But it hits, so much stronger than the previous instances, and the beast roars as light magic seeps into it where it lays. They are close, so close…just a little farther.

“Febail!”

@yewfallen​

   Soren falls, and it seems to dampen the mood but at the same time made the situation all the more dire. Their strategy of silencing and fortifying their defenses dies quickly in lieu of offensive spell after offensive spell slung at the one who had felled Soren in the first place.

“ Right! ”

Febail sustains Toxic Poison damage. Febail’s HP: 9/10. Febail casts Forblaze on Gofannon. 1d20 roll: 15. Hit! Gofannon’s HP: 0/20.

Febail heeds the call to action, the act of calling forth the flames of Forblaze becoming more and more natural despite his initial assumption that magic was not his thing.

The bird goes down, consumed by the fire. Even in its last moments, it looks brilliant, burning brightly like a phoenix before vanishing altogether.

“ One more! Lemme know if ya can't handle the poison if it hits ya! ”  // @macawbre​

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach

verseandrhyme​:

Mitama hums absently at Soren’s hypothesizing. Armor out of a turtle shell…interestingn, to be sure. It sounded like something one might hear out of a myth, legendary armor worn by a great fighter. What a concept. A shame that their foe was real enough only to injure, not to take parts off of. 

There was little time to think on it. Quick as Soren’s spell came to a close, the bird descended, targeting the other mage. Mitama ducked away from the force of the wind, but Soren was not so lucky as the bird dug in.

Mitama winced sympathetically. The spell is called before she even thinks on it, covering the field once more.

Mitama rolls a 14. Heal! 4 Health for everyone. Soren’s Health: 4.5/10, Febail’s Health: 10/10, Henry’s Health: 10/10.

Better, this time. She still wishes it was stronger, but she will take what she can. The magic soothes wounds, and aside from Soren, they all look good as new.

MItama lets out a satisfied laugh and calls the spell to a close. “We should really try and deal with this quicker before the less fortunate among us suffer any more.”

@yewfallen​ or @macawbre​

   So far, whilst the battle is more annoying what with the enemy's myriad of ways to whittle at them and prevent their own hits from whittling at them in return, Mitama's and Henry's healing seemed to be helping things significantly and keeping them afloat.

It gives Febail the clear mind he needs, the clear mind he's lacked this entire time, to hone in on the magical energy that exists — no matter how dormant — within him.

Febail sustains Toxic Poison Damage. Febail’s HP: 9/10. Febail casts Forblaze on Sophrosyne. 1d20 roll: 19. Critical Hit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 6.5/20. Enemy unable to counter.

He pushes past the poison even as it eats away at him, and he conjures hellfire. The arena roars with flames, bigger than any of the ones he's cast so far, and there is nothing Sophrosyne can do but be trapped in the torrent of flames and stone as it too consumes him.

An eye for an eye. And here, Febail is the one aiming for the last laugh.  // @macawbre​ 

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach

macawbre​:​

“Personally, I think we should pry open this projectionist’s head and see for ourselves!!” 

He cackled to himself, knowing full well that making enemies like this wasn’t natural. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though this Gofannon sucked at summoning a quake, he guessed! Nevertheless, if Henry could just figure out how the projectionist was making these type of illusions, he could probably play some wicked mind games with his enemies…

Sophrosyne, however, has better luck giving him the ouchies. That horrid song was a beautifully tragic thing. But still. But still. It made his eardrums bleed, almost. Who knew singing could inflict physical damage? Nya ha ha! Maybe he ought to take some lessons. Bet his voice could at least match the might of his crows. Grimacing, he carried on, like a soldier who could run into battles with a deafening sorrow in his heart. Without any explanation, Henry feared the poison would sink from his heart, right into his system.

“You think you can just hit me and leave? Think again!”

1d4 roll: 4. Sophrosyne casts Minuet of Mourning on Henry. Enemy 1d20 roll: 7. Hit! Henry’s HP: 6.5/10. Henry is inflicted with the Toxic Poisoned status. 1d20 roll: 7+4. Hit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 13/20.

Without another interruption in sight, he tried his luck with Quake for the first time this round. His eyes were honed in accurate measures, pinpointing exactly where Sophrosyne was rumbling about. Without hesitation, he blasted a sigil into the ground, and left the beast screaming in agony.

“Ngh… Okay, well. I’m tasting poison in my mouth… Is this what you’ve been experiencing the whole time Febail?”

   Febail's face twists in bemusement as Henry speaks, and then that's when it hits him: Henry thinks he's some inexperienced youth. Of course that's the natural conclusion to come to when he's attending this academy as some student.

Although he didn't like being underestimated for how closely it seemed as if he was being looked down upon instead, Febail keeps his mouth shut on the matter. Henry didn't need to be told the details; the four of them just needed to win and there were too many things in that moment to care about above that...

...Like Henry getting poisoned.

Febail casts Restore. Henry is no longer poisoned!

“ Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it? ”  Febail grumbles as he waves his hand in Henry's direction, quickly killing the toxins attempting to run through the professor's system.

He's not really sure if it actually worked, but the guy's coloring looked better, so he'll count it as a success anyway.  // @macawbre​

[yewfallen]

OCTOBER ACTIVITY CHECK

Status: Passed Skill Points Gained: 4

The Monster o’ Fódlan Loch ( Ferdinand ) - 1,444 words ➜ Mission Prompt: Sword +1 Black and Blue ( Lana ) - 1,049 words ➜ Mission Prompt: Gauntlets +1 Arena Event Participation - Any +1 ➜ allocated to Bow +1 Monthly Activity Check - Any +1 ➜ allocated to Bow +1

Skill Changes:

Sword - B ( 50% ) ➜ B+ Gauntlets - E ➜ E+ Bow - B+ ➜ A

Learned/Obtained:

Steal Locktouch Sniper Class Close Counter

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach

verseandrhyme​:​

Everyone returns to their feet and no one is returned immediately to the benches upon their first attack. Mitama considers that a quite effective start, in all honesty. She should have known such a display of magic would render her a target, however.

Gofannon rolls a 9. Barely Hit! 4 damage. Mitama’s Health: 6/10.

The axe digs painfully as the foe swings it into her. It is only a graze to her leg, but the wound throbs the such intensity that she gasps and reaches for the wound, thinking for a moment she may have lost the limb entirely. It is still attached, and just as quickly she grits her teeth and launches another spell in turn.

Mitama rolls a 3. Barely hit! .5 damage. Gofannon’s Health: 13.5/20.

The spell does not pack the same punch that she wishes it had, but it is enough to make the enemy stumble away from her enough that she can recover herself and her footing. Mitama huffs, casting a quick glance to make sure her allies are unharmed. “I am fine.” She calls before anyone (Henry, most likely, with how the two of them have been looking after the group the entirety of this affair) can fret over her.

She still does not know exactly what the ring she had been given is capable of, but it somehow manages to soothe the pain when her thumbs turns it absently, and that is enough thought for now.

Mitama recovers one health from Prayer Ring. Mitama’s Health: 7/10.

The same healing spell she had started with comes to her call again, though perhaps her injury is more severe than she thought. The spell is weaker this time, barely managing to spread across the field and cover all of them. A measly attempt that she would reprimand herself for, if not distracted by how this time the light of the spell seems to cover her as well.

Mitama rolls a 5. Bad Heal! 1 Health for everyone. Henry’s Health: 7.5/10. Soren’s Health: 6/10. Febail’s Health: 5/10. Mitama recovers 3 Health. Mitama’s Health: 10/10.

Well. The hurt in her leg has certainly been ended. She gives her leg a brief flex, but no pain or wound lingers. Interesting. Mitama lets out a laugh before turning to the field once more. Focus. “Another desperate barrage, Febail?”

@yewfallen​

   “ It's just how I fight in arenas, if yer worried I'd do it like this out in the real world. ”  Febail can't tell if Mitama is exasperated or growing more accepting of his way of combat, but he figures his reply works all the same.  “ I'd rather kill people before they realize I'm even there, see. Arenas don't have that though. ”

Not that wielding a bow that shines brightly in the real world is very stealthy either. Maybe he should figure out a way to block out that. But for now, he had to focus on the fight and on the way power flowed through his fingertips.

At the same time, however, toxins were also still swimming about inside his blood.

Febail sustains Toxic Poison damage. Febail’s HP: 4/10. Febail casts Forblaze on Sophrosyne. Desperation activates. 1d20 roll: 12, 4. Hit! Barely Hit! Sophrosyne’s HP: 14.5/20. Enemy 1d20 roll: 16. Hit! Febail’s HP: 3/10.

Trying to ignore how it ravages him, he transfers that energy instead to another shower of fireballs, locked into what appeared to be his own duel with their wailing foe. Sophrosyne's minuet only grows more painful to listen to, however, even worse to bear, and Febail feels his desperation and frustration growing stronger.  // @macawbre​

[yewfallen]

once more onto the breach

verseandrhyme​:

@yewfallen ; @macawbre ; @atypicalsenerio

The next round begins and carries with it a sense of finality. Once more, strange new spells are granted to her, a ring slid on her finger and a brief explanation of what she is capable of. Mitama spares it little mind. Her focus is already determined, eyes lingering on Henry even as the new enemies are summoned to face them.

Fix the mistake. Ensure they survive. Ensure that no one else suffers for your failings.

Her usual physic spell is not returned to her. Instead, a new spell is given, one that grabs her attention immediately. Fortify…

The go is given, and Mitama makes her move immediately. She takes a calming breath and focuses her energy, feels the spell dance within her as it gathers and, throwing her hands forward, casts.

Mitama rolls a 12. 4 Health! Henry, Soren, and Febail recover 4 health.

It does not fly as she is used to, does not seek out a target and fly to them specifically. Rather, the spell grows outwards from her, covers all allies to her team and, from what Mitama can tell, heals them all.

A stunned silence follows Mitama’s spell. All of them…perhaps she should study faith a little further than she already had when all of this had ended.

To think on later. For now, they have all recovered, and Mitama lets out a laugh as Febail and Soren return. “Please try not to go back immediately this time, the both of you…”

    And so he's back. Far from perfect, but he can still fight, and that's just how it was— fight no matter how beaten down you are. He has lived that life from his childhood and that wasn't changing at all today.

He takes a moment to realize he's not been supplied with any physical weapon this time, though he does search for a bow or a sword in vain. Instead what he finds is another note inside his blazer's pocket, reading two different incantations.

“ Sorry, but there's not much else I can do, ”  Febail replies. He knows Mitama would rather he not just go attacking again right off the bat, but the only support spell he has is one that would prove useless.

The other however...

Febail looks at the two enemies they have, cursing the fact he doesn't have a bow ( not that the feathered foe would have been susceptible to his arrows in truth ) before he begins muttering the incantation he had just read.

This isn't his thing. This isn't his thing. And yet...

2d20 roll: 8, 17. Hit! Hit! Sophrosyne's HP: 16/20.

Even his desperate words will a ball of fire into existence somehow, two of them even, and the twin comets swirl 'round and 'round their reptilian foe, trapping it in place as a whole shower of fireballs rained down on it. The whole arena becomes an inferno, as he presses the spell further, shaking the very earth beneath them and launching chunks of the earth up into the air alongside the blaze that shoots upwards instead now.

He wonders if this is how the holy warriors in Sir Sigurd's army had died at Belhalla. For a moment, it certainly feels like he had invited the end times.

Yet somehow even with all of that, the Sophrosyne stands quite well against all that, the flames all subsiding. The hexlock shield shimmers as it taunts the hitman, greatly weakening what looked like it ought to have dealt so much more damage.

Enemy 1d20 roll: 14. Hit! Febail's HP: 3/10. Febail inflicted with the Toxic Poisoned status.

The Sophrosyne wails out a sorrowful tune, and Febail is unable to cover his ears before the minuet's magic takes hold of him, eating him from inside out as poison fills his veins.

“ Fuckin' hell... ”   // @macawbre​