once more onto the breach
@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.
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