hisatana

[hisatana]

A fight on this scale should not phase him. He wants to keep his brave face as the miasma forms enemies under their control. His knuckles turn white as he grips onto the hilt of his sword, eyes laser focused on their opponents. To destroy the dream…that would not be a simple task. But so long as he had allies by his side, he would not let a single sacrifice be in vain. “We’ve come too far to let the battle end without a victory.”

Agarthan General uses Quake! 15. Hit! (-1HP) Hisame’s HP: 10/12. Seal Str/Mag: all buffs to Str and Mag are nullified for one round.

Though he was not drastically low, his ally has it in his heart to heal them all, a source of magic he had only seen used by high priestesses back home. “I will do all I can to not be a liability to you all. We can do this—!”

Hisame attacks Cognitive Woman with Killing Edge. 1d20=9. Hit! (-1.5 HP) Cognitive Woman’s HP: 53.5/60

Cognitive Woman counterattacks with Nepenthe Gloves. 1d20+2=9. Hit! (-1.5HP) Hisame’s HP 10.5/12.

‘It’s not bad, but I could do more,’ he berates himself, placing a hand on where the woman had struck. “It won’t go down easily…but I’m certain we can persevere together.”

This Is Where Heroes and Cowards Part Ways || Battlefield Finale Team 1

arcstral​:

              Found at the highest peak of a tower is a loneliness that little else can replicate. The air here gathers thick and heavy in his lungs, every peek of the realm below encouraging an unwanted consciousness toward heights and falls and human isolation. Were it not for the allies at his side, perhaps he would feel like a man alone at the very edge of the world. But even without their company it wouldn’t have been total solitude.

               The miasmic slop pouring from the sky merges into hostile solids, producing separate batches of concerns entirely at a single woman’s command. He has no time to mourn the form their enemy takes. Before anyone can utter a warning, the General courses an earth-shattering rumble through the ground, felt and heard in equal strides. An instinctual huddle of his form toward the nearest wall provides shelter from the attack. Quiet settles afterward and during this time he is able to deduce that others have not been as lucky—Laslow. Soren. Edward. Merric.

( Agarthan General uses Quake. Barely hit. Offset by Fire Emblem )

( Merric casts Fortify.  Marth’s HP: 10/10  )

               Marth straightens from the debris, cupping his hand around his mouth through the clamor of battle in a bid to be heard. “Is everyone alright? If it is urgent healing you require, you need only say the word!” Falchion remains sheathed in favor of more needed talents. His attentive eyes scan the battlefield for damages, where gauged alongside the injured is the particularly affected Merric. The brutal nature of his spirits is noted hand-in-hand alongside their user’s ragged state.

(  Marth casts Recover, healing Merric for +3 HP  )

               Upon his approach warmth suffuses his palms then the ailing body below. A fraught look of worry flickers across his expression, professional and personal all at once. Marth pushes the latter away. “If you continue like this, the spirits will take from you more than you can give. Don’t push yourself.”

            LONELINESS COMES TO HER IN A BITING COLD. It washes over her like waves of a starless sea, threatening to take her beneath its depths with every beating crest. This tower is all brick and shadow, and evokes a suffocating isolation. The strange, miasmic foes that form at the woman’s word certainly do not help offset the feeling. Though she knows that this isn’t real— the quickly fracturing dreamscape reminds her of that— her mind has its ways of tearing her asunder. 

           And it begins with her heart.

           Her feelings do not control her easily. If the centuries upon centuries have given anything to her, it is strength in spades. But in this space, in this moment, she finds herself burning up with a strange fever of emotion. Anger, sadness, fear, all swirling like stew in a cauldron, bubbling and smoking with each stir. She sweats. The darkness serves to trick her— it’s as though she were a young manakete again, dreaming of destruction wrought by her divine claws, and of the shadows that haunt her slumber.

Agarthan General uses Quake: Hit! (-1HP) Tiki’s HP: 10/12. Seal Str/Mag: all buffs to Str and Mag are nullified for one round. Merric uses Fortify: Tiki’s HP: 12/12

           The ground suddenly shakes; the tower’s foundation quivers alongside it. Tiki whimpers as she is struck by debris, the falling stones digging into her shoulder. Part of her wishes to cry. Perhaps a moment longer in this sorry state, and she actually would have. It’s fortunate that she is able to break away from her emotions, then. Warmth seeps into her skin. Her tensed body, deep in the fight mode of fight-or-flight, relaxes. The darkness clouding her vision parts, and she can see the familiar and welcome figures of her allies surrounding her.

           Right— she’s not alone!

           “Merry…” the nickname slips past her guard, as does the dopey, girlish grin that her mouth succumbs to, “thank you!”

           Her heart eases. Though she feels herself continue to heat up. Still, this is an improvement— at least now, she can see what is truly in front of her. This will let her fight; and being by her friends’ sides will let her win. Her gauntlets, strapped to her hands, crackle with magic and lightning. It is eager to do something, and Tiki feels the same.

Tiki attacks Agarthan General with Aura Knuckles: Hit, Hit! (-3HP) Agarthan General: 29/40 HP.

           Her fever transforms itself into resolve. Tiki, teeth grit, rushes towards one of the fielded enemies and strikes them twice. The first hit cuts upwards, hitting their helmet— the other follows quickly, sweeping across their torso. The general stumbles backward, unable to do so much as counterattack. Tiki breathes deeply. Then, turns back.

           She half expects to be met with empty darkness once more. But her teammates remain with her, still. A reminder that she doesn’t stand alone.

           “Let’s bring them down,” Tiki raises a hand, “I’m counting on you all!”

@hisatana​ 

[hisatana]

Hisame wasn’t quite used to such an intense cold, hiding away inside of his coat as the blizzard rages on. He remains quiet on their journey, thinking only of how it seemed this story was coming to an end.

A cabin…in the real world he’s sure he would be thankful for such a sight, looking to warm his bones inside of its walls…but there is little comfort to be found.

Hisame loses 3HP from Blizzard.

“I— I’m fine. Thank you, Miss Edain…” Each snowflake feels like a shard of glass against his skin. Still, he puts on a brave face. Faltering due to the weather would only slow them down… “Yes, we have to keep going…anything to end this nightmare.”

+0 Herbs

@ulirblood

jerma vc i got an onion ring

ulirblood:

@virtuoustyrfing @hisatana [ weekend dungeon! ]

the winds chill her down to the bone, reminding her of the new purpose to their dream given by the woman who had previously been wrapped in ivory vines, unable to move. she had warned them they were spiraling into the dream, that they would eventually never come out again.

and that this cabin, this strange land of snow, was their only way out of the dream. she keeps careful watch of the ground but it’s all snow as far as the eye can see. not a single form of life except herself and her students. 

[ rolled for herbs! nothing :D ]

“is everyone alright!?” she calls weakly to seliph and hisame as she turns her head around to look at them, harsh winds whipping her hair against her face. it’s an attempt to take up mantle of a leader as a professor should do in this kind of situation. it’s hard to even raise her voice loud enough to be heard over the frigid winds and the sound of snow crunching under boot.

their ‘allies’ weren’t exaggerating their descriptions of the snowstorm that rages outside the city’s walls.   &   its ferocity leaves one stumbling through the whiteness, seeing not much of anything ahead. but that woman, whose name seliph would never know, spoke of those trapped within this dream… this uncertain road will lead to them, won’t it?

one hand raises to shield his face from the frigid wind, accomplishing little to ease his step.

even if he wanted to, there’s no turning back. or else grannvale’s king might find himself lost, too, tricked by the illusions.   &   how can he save the missing knights if his resolve dies? if he can’t even help himself?

(d3: 1)  seliph loses 1 HP from blizzard.  (9/10 HP)

“yes, i am all right,” seliph calls back, yet hearing lady edain’s voice despite the howling wind. it’s a comfort he won’t be braving this blizzard alone, accompanying lady edain and hisame… the latter of whom the scion hasn’t had a chance to speak with previously.

“but we should press forward as fast as we can.”

[+0 herbs]

@hisatana

[hisatana]

HC/Meta Masterpost

All general HCs as well as links to future metas will be listed below!

HCs:

I will be writing Hisame as if he is post Revelations, with him working towards his ending, basically. He is looking to give up the sword and become a scholar, and in the future maybe even a government official (based on his JP ending).

I will be RPing Hisame as knowing his mother, but keeping it vague. My personal HCs for his mother are Peri, Felicia, and Oboro. Just for future reference in case a Hinata joins and is curious, though I leave it entirely up to the future mun!

His relationship with his father is kinda everywhere sometimes, but to boil it down, Hisame wants to make his father proud, even if now as an adult he thinks his father acts childish. He took up the sword for this reason, but now looks to make Hinata proud by being himself.

Hisame is a trans man, but for any Fates muses he is probably not out about this fact, unless he is close to the other person or...his parents. He presents entirely as male. I'm not looking to make it a big deal or reveal to anyone ftr, but I do think it plays well with him wanting to become a swordmaster like his father as a child, only to become his own man with his own wants based more on traditionalism.

I HC Hisame as bisexual, though he doesn't think much about the gender of a potential partner at all.

Hisame is autistic. That's the post :) Probably won't ever come up but know it's there.

Along with pickling, Hisame has other hobbies he kinda keeps to himself for the most part. He enjoys things that are very hands on and crafty, knitting, sewing, gardening, etc.

More to come! :)

Metas:

N/A

[hisatana]

"Yes-- I look forward to us working together, Sir Kent." There is a sour taste that lingers on his tongue as he speaks, offering the man a slight bow of his head. Part of him is thankful that their mission leaves them little time for pleasantries past a basic introduction, though he would prefer a task much less dubious in the future.

'It's for the greater good,' he tells himself, though he's well aware that it is much more complex that that. Dreams were never so easy to discern, even when you truly believed you understood them from beginning to end. There would always be something off, something uncanny... And even if this was the mission assigned to them, that did not mean it was all entirely for the good of everyone, but rather for the good of the dream itself.

Hisame does all he can to focus on his task and not the morality of it all, though when he looks over at Kent he can't help but notice something that shines. Whatever it is, it's not simply medicine.

"...What do you suggest we do, Sir Kent?" The young samurai speaks quietly, not wanting to alert anyone else, especially not the man they were confiscating from. "It would do us well to take it, for the sake of the army, however," he sighs, eyes laser focused on the money that gleams mockingly, "I can't say I feel good about the idea."

RESOURCES OBTAINED: +12 herbs.

dishonest work

Mission Task: Crafted supplies are harder to come by with the weather being what it is, but you catch a lucky break in the form of an unlucky merchant on his way to the city. He is made prisoner while you and the others pick through his cargo, determining what can be used for the military’s purposes. An officer is here to swiftly pocket any and all Obol you find, but there is plenty of other use things here… 4d4 Herbs per post. In addition, roll 1d20 per post, 19 = 1 Orichalcum, 20 = 1 Vulnerary.   // @hisatana !

   “ Hisame, was it? Let us do good work together! ”  Kent greets the man, recognizing him as one of their own numbers despite the fact they shared a uniform with all the others chosen to do this task. The task? Grabbing ‘contraband’ and designating it for military use.

Though Kent still had some catching up to do on the politics and laws here, he is well aware that this act was hardly virtuous. If someone from home saw what he had been relegated to, helping arrest a civilian and rifling through his wares for confiscation, they might think the Caelin knights had all gone to hell.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps this was some sort of hell, if one chose to believe in such things. He certainly saw the faces of the dead here anyhow.

But needs must, and if the army was going to be taking things from the man anyhow, then at the very least they can see what they can get before the more unscrupulous officers emptied the pile first. Crates upon crates are lined up for examination, and they were beginning from the opposite end of the other officer they were assigned with.

Kent can see a glimmer of money. His jaw sets to see it, but he knew this was going to happen and he holds not enough power in this army to stop it either.

A day through hell might just make you a servant to it if you stay awhile.

RESOURCES OBTAINED: +9 herbs.

[hisatana]

There’s little time to check on Kent once the tree falls. Luckily they have vulneraries, though it doesn’t seem to do much. That, or the knight accompanying them is holding onto his pride despite it all. Hisame opens his mouth to question his motives, but is quick to close it as his team presses on.

He had been lucky to never draw his sword once during their dream before now, content with keeping it by his side or using it only for menial tasks. But he knew what he was signing up for when coming to the monastery and their current assignment.

The young samurai is quick to pull out his sword and prepare his stance before he can even make out the enemies in front of him. His hold on his weapon weakens, eyes widening when before him stands not only familiar faces, but the faces of his friends.

Two silver haired maidens block their path, and Hisame knows this is a dream. Both of them were safe at home when he left, and their gazes never once held this sort of coldness. The assassin’s eyes held…a different sort of emotion, typically, especially whenever he spoke with Kiragi, never contempt.

And yet it still hurts to watch as Kent and Merric attack them. He’s forced to keep his eyes closed, only opening them when he hears Kent’s voice as it fades.

Edward’s own attacks go unnoticed. All Hisame can focus on is his old friend as she strikes down his comrade. The illusion does not fade, but as he faces the other girl, one just as dangerous with a pair of chopsticks as she was with a lance, he gains the confidence he needs that none of this is real.

Hisame attacks Loveable Idiot with Killing Edge. Sunder activates! 1d20 roll: 9. Hit! (-3HP) Loveable Idiot’s HP: 6.5/20. Fire Shield activates! (-1HP) Hisame’s HP: 11/12. Loveable Idiot counterattacks with Lancereaver. Desperation activates! 2d20 roll: 11, 8. Hit! Hit! (-3HP) Hisame’s HP: 8/12.

He can hear her cry, the exact same way she normally does when she fells or trips over herself. Their enemies are clever to use such underhanded tactics, using the face of their loved ones.

Psychopomp activates! (-1HP) Lovable Idiot’s HP: 5.5/20. Merric’s HP: 5/10. Rallies wear off! Loveable Idiot attacks Hisame with Lancereaver. Desperation activates! 2d20 roll: 12, 13. Hit! Hit! (-3HP) Hisame’s HP: 5/12. Hisame counterattacks with Killing Edge. 1d20 roll: 10+3. Hit! (-1.5HP) Loveable Idiot’s HP: 4/20. Fire Shield activates! (-1HP) Hisame’s HP: 4/12.

“It’s— it’s almost over…” He holds his sword in one hand and clutches at his side with the other, looking over at his remaining teammates, the absence of Kent made rather obvious.

@ventusanimae

By the Power of God and Sharp Things || Battlefield Team 1

liegebound:

“ Ah… My apologies for making you worry after me then, ”  Kent bows his head out of genuine guilt once he has reunited with the others, path clear for them all to proceed with their mission.  “ I have full capacities of my body, and I still have a vulnerary in my saddlebag. ”

He whistles his horse Helena to come to him, and she skillfully leaps over the fallen tree before landing gracefully at his side. He takes a vulnerary bottle from his belongings there with her, popping it open as he quickly glugs it down.

Kent uses a Vulnerary: 1d20=4. (+1HP) Kent’s HP: 7/10.

There is not much left there, a lack of anything to aid, but he feels better about taking one of the emptier ones than one of the fuller ones in case any of his party members might have greater need of it than him later on.

“ Let us go. If anyone needs anything, do please holler. An army is strongest with as many of us able to continue on. ”

Eager to move on to dispel any concern, Kent mounts his steed and for good cause, for when they proceed, he runs into a face he hasn’t seem in quite some time.

Sain.

He almost says it but stops himself. The last time he had come across a familiar face when traveling in these lands, it had been a trick of the mind, and the others around him had seen someone different.

But… oh, how he wishes to call out for him. Even now, in the most exasperating of places, the sight of the man wearing his debonair grin as he rides atop his own horse is a balm to the soul as much as it is a dagger through it.

Loathe as he might be to say it, he’s missed him.

Loveable Idiot uses Rally Speed & Luck on Cloudcuckoolander. Cuckoo receives +6 Spd and +3 Luck for one round. Booming Voice is in effect. Optimism activates! Idiot receives +3 Spd and +1.5 Luck.

But Sain is not alone, and he loudly cheers in that voice Kent has feared he might have begun to somehow forget, but he cheers not for him. He cheers for the agile figure at his side, a face Kent can’t quite recognize as they charge forth with a full-on offensive.

Cloudcuckoolander attacks Kent with Devil Gauntlets. 2d20(+4)=15, 9. Crit! Hit! (-4.5HP) Kent’s HP: 2.5/10.

Their gauntlets move quickly and connect hard. Kent recognizes that, at least, as the weapons he saw Lord Hector wield in another dream, weapons that could convince one to punch themselves in the face.

It didn’t seem as if this foe would fall victim to this trick however.

Kent counterattacks with Brave Lance. Desperation activates! 4d20(-8)=10, -4, 9, 7. Hit! Miss! Hit! Hit! (-15HP)

Brave Lance at the ready already from before, Kent quickly launches his own counter, not to be deterred by the new wounds he might have taken on. A knight of Lycia does not show weakness. A knight of Lycia charges forward with their full strength, to keep morale high and push against the enemy forces until they’ve created an opening to guide their allies.

A knight of Lycia is reliable, someone that can truly serve to be of help to others with their very existance.

But a knight of Lycia cannot trump a miracle.

Miracle activates!Cloudcuckoolander HP: 0.5/15.

Sain in the back is full of his uplifting spirit, ever dependable in his own way as different to Kent as he might be, and the stranger he has taken for his ally stands their ground by sheer force of will— for him, he wonders?

Kent has no doubt he would have done the same had their situations been reversed.

Cloudcuckoolander attacks again (+6 Spd). 2d20(+4)=22, 16. Crit! Crit! (-6HP)

And with a desperation to rival Kent’s own, they return with a righteous fury, never minding how close they are to death, to leap at the paladin and unseat him, bringing him down to the ground as they pummel him until he is only seeing stars.

“ Even now… You bloody… fool… ”

His consciousness is slipping away, and he hears the person above him cry out in pain, giving out as well he would presume, but he knows not for sure. Everything fades so fast.

He thinks he hears his old friend whine in the back, aggravated for the loss of his new friend. If Kent pretends it’s for his defeat here that that lovable idiot cries out for, would it set his heart at ease any better?

He doesn’t know, but even now when he somewhat wants to, he cannot convince himself to try.

Kent’s HP: 0/10. Kent has been defeated!

The tree is felled easily enough, but Edward nearly jumps out of his skin when it doesn’t fall where it should, instead bowling Kent over in the process — An assenting murmur comes through as Kent helps himself to a vulnerary, though, and for a moment, all seems well, until…

Two figures bar their path. Easy targets, for a group of four. But Edward of all people should know better than to underestimate the outnumbered party — Instead, the dream inexorably draws his eyes to their faces, the human condition to gravitate towards the familiar gripping his mind; And their features shift, just as that fallen king’s did, one from a spectrum of firey red to dark green, the other chestnut-brown then lavender in turn —

Then, for a moment, he sees two pairs of grey eyes, identical in shade but not in shape, one a mirror and one an approximation of his own. A young voice cheers the other on, one he’s all but forgotten the tone of: go, ed, get ‘em!

It costs him. It costs all of them, that moment before he remembers that this is a dream, and that there is still danger in dreaming. The second figure lunges for Kent, a bright flash of light following them from Merric’s fingertips, and trusting in his professors, Edward lunges for that now indistinct figure that dared wear his brother’s face with a hoarse, enraged scream —

edward attacks lovable idiot with caladbolg! roll: 8. hit. 1.5 damage! 9.5/20 HP. edward takes 1 damage from flame shield! 8/12 HP.

And his blade finds its mark, but the figure’s steed rears back, now red eyes glaring down at him in amusement, surety. It’s all the boy can do to avoid trampling hooves, but the man’s sword —

lovable idiot counters edward with lancereaver! desperation activates! roll: 12, 11. hit, hit. 3 damage! 5/12 HP.

Edward grits his teeth into a snarl as a slash intercepts him, his stagger from the burst of pain opening a window for another — the first dragging along his ribcage, the second catching his shoulder as he tries to dance out of the way.

He doesn’t even realise what’s happened behind him save a dim awareness of the second enemy’s cry, his trust in the knight and mage absolute. For the love of Ashera, kid, don’t turn around…

@hisatana

[hisatana]

He watches as Kent takes his turn, just as impressed as he is perplexed— the same could have been said about Merric’s own attack as well. Cutting a tree with magic or a lance— or anything other than an axe or sword— felt strange. Then again, it would easily dull the sword…so perhaps it wasn’t as ideal as he once thought. But again, this was nothing more than a dream to begin with…

He has a hard time remembering that this was all just a dream. Logic didn’t have to exist.

“I wouldn’t blame them. Back home there are tales of ruthless demons and killer demons, along with the more harmless but mischievous.” He takes a deep breath, prepared to swing at the tree once again.

Hisame attacks a tree. Roll 1d20: 6! Hit! Gathered 2 wood! Forgot the hp again.

“I doubt it’s anything harmless, at least in their eyes.”

By the Power of God and Sharp Things || Battlefield Team 1

hisatana​:

No matter what they faced together, Hisame vowed that he would make himself as useful as he could manage. If that meant exploring the unknown and…chopping down trees, then so be it. “Interesting…It likely is important, though until we know who this ‘Melita’ is, I suppose we shouldn’t worry about it too much.”

Not wanting to waste even a moment of their time, Hisame raises his sword and follows suit, striking the tree with as much strength as he can manage.

Hisame attacks a tree. Roll 1d20: 4! Hit! Gathered 2 wood!

…Which was apparently not very hard, but it would do for now. He takes the pieces of wood he’s gathered and passes them down, trying to not let his scowl show how embarrassed he is from such a weak swing. “I leave it to you, Sir Kent.”

   “ You are quite right, Merric, ”  Kent agrees with him as they come up to a tree blocking the entire way.  “ Given the way they have sent us to scavenge for resources, I have no doubt this will also make our superiors content in more than one way. ”

It is another day of work, another day of doing so in search of an end in sight. It will have all been worth it one day, Kent tells himself. Someone has to.

Merric’s way of dealing with their natural obstacle is a spectacular and innovative sight, one Kent wonders to himself if it might be replicable by other light mages back home, but the thought must pause for his fellow professor signals for the group to look at what message has been engraved into the bark.

Edward and Merric both do not dwell long on it, (though that Merric would memorize the text so quickly is impressive to say the least!) and Hisame follows after, asking that Kent follow him in continuing their medley of attacks.

“ Very well. ”

Kent attacks the tree with Brave Lance. 2d20 roll: 8, 4. Hit! Miss! (-2HP) Tree’s HP: 26/40. Trample activates! (-2HP) Tree’s HP: 24/40. Party gains +2 wood!

Taking the heavier of his lances, he strikes against the tree, trying to continue where his fellow peers have left off at, gradually increasing the progress they have made, but his swings are not as focused as they could be.

The message lingers in his mind. Before it continues to distract him, he blurts out his thoughts:

“ …The writer fears demons a fair amount, I should think. ”  // @hisatana​ !

[hisatana]

No matter what they faced together, Hisame vowed that he would make himself as useful as he could manage. If that meant exploring the unknown and...chopping down trees, then so be it. "Interesting...It likely is important, though until we know who this 'Melita' is, I suppose we shouldn't worry about it too much."

Not wanting to waste even a moment of their time, Hisame raises his sword and follows suit, striking the tree with as much strength as he can manage.

Hisame attacks a tree. Roll 1d20: 4! Hit! Gathered 2 wood!

...Which was apparently not very hard, but it would do for now. He takes the pieces of wood he's gathered and passes them down, trying to not let his scowl show how embarrassed he is from such a weak swing. "I leave it to you, Sir Kent."

By the Power of God and Sharp Things || Battlefield Team 1

@liegebound @justices-blade @hisatana

This dream of theirs is more and more like some of the absolute worst nightmares that Merric’s mind could possibly come up with. Just about the last thing missing would be seeing Princess Elice among the enemy.

And he better drop that thought right this instant before his dream gets a hold of it.

That’s the main motivation he has to press onward. Accompanied by Sir Kent and two students, he moves along the pathway that they are to clear for the marching army. Remove any obstacles to ensure a safe passage for the main force. That, at least, Merric knows is normal to do in war.

(More normal than robbing some innocent merchant of his herbs at the very least, as far as he’s concerned. But anyway.)

The first hindrance that stops them comes in the form of a large, sturdy-looking tree. The enormous trunk and roots that spread both above and beneath the ground - “I’m not big on destroying nature, but the army will want this gone. And we may be able to use the wood,” he comments out loud.

With that in mind, he opens his spellbook. Perhaps an unorthodox method of trying to fell a tree, but Merric is not a man of the blade and not even a tree can change that.

Roll: 2d20=20, 8. Crit, hit Merric deals 9 damage. Tree HP: 40 → 31 Merric takes 2 recoil damage. Merric HP: 10 → 8 Gathered 5 wood

Two blasts of light fly forward, slashing a considerable gash near the bottom of the trunk. If they keep striking at that spot, it should eventually fall. The Altean takes a deeper, slightly labored breath - as expected, the pact with Aureola comes at a price. But it’s a price to which he agreed, so he does not complain.

“Alright, let’s keep… Hang on, what’s that?”

He frowns lightly as he interrupts himself, noticing something odd in the tree, and walks closer to inspect. Indeed, a message seems to have been left in the bark.

Plagued by dreams of the past. […] She climbed into my lap, pressing her cheek against mine. Her foul “kisses” are her way of comforting me. Melita can be troublesome at times […] but her loyalty always shines through in my darkest moments. Bell on collar chimes, nails clicking on the tile, soft expressive sounds, a child cooing for her mother’s attention. Warm, plush fur… I will work on the platagi to take my mind off things.

… Peculiar. The Mage motions for the others to approach and take a look as well, and analyzes the text silently for a moment.

“I wonder what this is. I would not use a tree as a journal, but I guess I shouldn’t question a dream. But why did this appear to us?” He wonders out loud, before letting out a sigh.

“Well… Let’s keep working. We don’t have much time. Don’t worry, I’ve got this memorized in case we need it.”

[hisatana]

It was a surprise to absolutely no one that Hisame was more of the straight laced type. He couldn’t think of a time he’s ever done anything similar to this, nevermind…this! This felt wrong, even if he knew it was a…cause he and the rest of the army followed. But he would put all of that aside if it meant succeeding their mission.

“No, I can’t say I have…” Something about Edward being experienced in this doesn’t surprise him. There is an obvious comparison his brain tries to make, but he does his best to ignore it entirely. “I’m not here to have fun, however. I’d like to get this done as quickly as possible, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The two of them are joined by a familiar face from Corrin’s army. Laslow…Soleil’s father. He had never been close either of the skirt chasers, but he’s seen them enough to know he wasn’t mistaken.

“So, do either of you have any ideas? We need to get inside as safely and as unnoticed as we can.”

im not kidding you guys. i wanted to do CRIMES. // battlefield chalkos crew

The spires of Sparagmos tower above them, silent and unreachable shadows in the snow. Something murmurs in his mind; a soft hiss, the tone of an embittered soldier. death to the dissidents. tear their towering walls down, brick by brick. down to the foundation, scorch the ground, salt the earth for daring to, daring to—!

Edward is no embittered soldier. He is a boy trying to survive. And though it pains him (because he never fought for unification, he always only fought for safety, family, freedom), survival in this dream is all that can lead them to stability getting to the bottom of this dream conundrum. The soldiers of Rusalka need them. The mission needs them.

His family needs him, and he has every intention of coming back unscathed.

To that end, they need chalkos. And Sparagmos' warehouses probably have chalkos by the truckload, actually! It's far from his first time raiding a heavily guarded warehouse, so he volunteered for the task quite readily, though the fact he hadn't had to contend with chalkos' more volatile properties firsthand yet may be influencing his decision.

But potential explosions aside, the first step's always the stakeout. Edward crouches in the underbrush and snow, deathly silent, eyes trained on the warehouse and those guarding it. Being a ways from the city outskirts means that despite there being less greenery than the Sealed Forest proper, there's still a decent amount of vegetation to work with.

And when they're so few in number, stealth takes highest priority. This kind of thing's Sothe's specialty, but Edward would like to think he picked up one thing or the other. Maybe they could drop in through the roof…? They've been outfitted with enough rope to pull it off, easy. Grey eyes flit towards his partners in crime, and a tiny smile crosses his face.

"You guys done anything like this before?" he whispers, conspiratorially. "It's real fun once you get used to it."

@hisatana @laslow

[hisatana]

This was going to be a lot more difficult than he had originally hoped.

"I haven't hit my head-- it's called pruning." The samurai sighs as he watches his companion make a mockery of such a sacred art. "Doing so rids the tree of any diseased branches, allowing it to live a much longer life." Though he can't help but wonder how these trees looked the way they did despite the climate. Surely it was due to whatever logic this dream world used...there was no point in questioning it. That would cause more of a headache than it was worth.

His train of thought is quickly cut off when Larcei speaks of slashing it and retrieving its lumber. "No! It isn't for lumber! You're meant to only chop off the branches, not the entire tree--"

...And despite it all, she does a good job. Hisame isn't sure whether he should feel relieved or distressed that such recklessness is rewarded.

Soren is next, and though he's never considered the use of magic for things such as gardening, it works. So long as it works. "I-- I suppose I'll just focus on my own."

He turns his attention to his own tree, observing it for any leaves or branches that could prove to be fatal. Once it's been assessed, he takes his sword to them, carefully cutting as to not cause any harm or trauma to the tree. It's a near perfect job, though it certainly takes him much longer.

"There-- it looks like we've all done a good job." Hisame says with a smile...but he still can't shake the image of Larcei cutting all willy-nilly.

garden of the mind

Money talks here, and you could use some of it. In addition to your usual stipend, soldiers here like to trade services and knowledge for a little bit of coin. If your morals are particularly dismal today, you might even accept a bribe or two. 1d4 +1 Obols for every post.

“Huh? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on something? The soldiers are offerin’ to pay you to… Cut leaves?” 

Larcei has to take a step back. Examine her surroundings. Before her are a number of projects to be worked on: tiny trees potted in the way flowers often are, and great hedges, uncut and somehow dragged into their base camp. Larcei doesn’t know if the soldiers put them here, or if Hisame, whose idea this whole thing is, saved them the effort. 

Whatever the case may be, she’s skeptical. The people of this war are an oddity, and her experience with these dreams tells her that oddities often spell one’s doom. This could totally be a ploy to get them to waste their time doing menial labor, not pay up, and thus sabotage the resistance’s efforts. 

In a way more mocking than sincere, she draws her stellar Brave Sword. Its gleaming edge is pointed to one of Hisame’s trees, Larcei’s moon-hued eyes sizing it up as a target. “What am I supposed to do then–slash it up with my sword? If they want some extra lumber, they could’ve just told us to grab an axe and head into the forest!” 

Crusaders forbid she find the value in anything that isn’t nonstop action.

Roll 1d4+1 = 5, +5 Obols! 

//starter for @hisatana and @atypicalsenerio

[hisatana]

Her approach is brash, her introduction nothing short of an attempt at shocking him into acknowledging her,

"Hisame!" screamed from behind his back, but should he turn around, he'd find her blade held in a defensive position, "Don't think I haven't seen that sword at your hip. Draw it, and come at me! I have to witness your technique--to determine if you'd make a worthy rival or not!"

Challenging eyes tell the Hoshidan that she is dead serious about this, practically daring him to swing at her with his full force. She wields her stellar Brave Sword with a dexterous kind of ease, its form flowing from one guard to the next. Defense is more her brother's specialty, but if Hisame can so much as find an opening in her stance, she'll consider fighting him for real.

(Almost like a certain someone, eh?)

It works.

The sudden call of his name causes him to jump, though be does his best to calm himself before he turns. Once he sees who it is, however, all his efforts are for nothing.

“Larcei— you can’t go and surprise whoever you’d like, you know! If it had been anyone else I’m sure they would have struck you immediately.” He places a hand on his chest, feeling the way his heart beats like a scared rabbit. ‘Calm, Hisame…it’s just a girl. She is no different than the ones you call friends.’

He takes a deep breath.

“I will not be attacking you. This is hardly the time to be sparring. Not only that…but I have no want to become your rival in the first place.” It seems she was the reckless type, though he mentally applauds her on going on the defensive. At least if someone had swung at her she would have been ready— except…

“You should guard your sides some more,” He points out matter of factly, “especially if you’re looking to spar next time we have some free time.”

[hisatana]

Grey eyes peer at the other sword-wielder, intrigued — He hasn't seen many of the type of blade he wields before, that fragile-looking but no less wicked sharp thing. The closest he can come to think of any of its kind that he'd held himself was the Killing Edge — Like a feather in his hands, less than the sturdy weight of Caladbolg, but it ripped through vitals like a rabig hound.

Did this blade strike the same? He's curious, but not so much that it's his sole focus. He's ultimately just happy to see a teammate around.

"Hey! I'm Edward." he introduces himself, grinning broadly. "You're in the Blue Lions house, right? I'll be counting on you!"

They seemed to be quite the mixed basket. He had yet to meet the majority of his teammates, remaining on the side as he attempted to take in their situation. A battlefield— civil war— it was not too unlike his own upbringing, when he thought on it for a moment.

And yet, somehow, he does not expect someone to approach him with a smile. Many of his friends back home made a point to mention how he was intimidating to some…though he supposes that was mostly the girl.

Regardless, Hisame understood the importance of camaraderie on the battlefield. He was grateful to potentially be in good company.

It is only upon closer inspection does he find a resemblance— and though it is far from uncanny it is there nonetheless. Perhaps his chipper attitude in a scenario such as this that brought this on.

“Hisame.” His introduction is short and sweet, offering his fellow swordsman a nod of his head. “I look forward to us working together, Edward.”

There’s an awkward pause on Hisame’s end, unsure of where their conversation should go from here. In this dream he had none of his usual offerings. “Er…let’s do our best, you and I, for everyone’s sake.”

[hisatana]

fuck

if i

see one

joke about

pickles

i will

drop hisame