encursed

[encursed]

           SCATHACH'S SMILE IS GENTLE, WITH ALL THE WARMTH of the chamomile he promises. But Veronica cannot mirror it the way she would like. In fact, his earnest reaffirmation of his allegiance only serves to worsen her emotions. Hands, tense with guilt, wrap themselves around her body, nails digging into fabric and rippling wrinkles across them. Gaze askance and askew, the princess' frown is kept tight as she speaks.

           "Scathach…" she says lowly, as though in warning, "do not be so eager to throw your family away. You… you have a sister, yes? How would she feel hearing that…" she swallows, "that her brother didn't want to return to her?"

           Veronica takes a shaky breath, the air hot and humid against her dry lips. Had she commanded so much loyalty from Scathach that he would readily abandon his own kin? That she would be taking someone's brother away from them to use for herself… it breaks a heartstring she didn't know had been drawn taut. What is it with older siblings and the firm belief that their family didn't need them? Veronica thinks she could live with the curse and worse if Bruno were still here.

           The loss of her own siblings has painted family in a dazzling new light— Scathach, cast in her shadow, seemed not to see it.

           All the better to let him go, then. Set him free and far from the darkness of the Emblian empire. Choosing to release him might make it feel less like losing him, besides.

           "You are as loyal as they come. But…" she shakes her head, "I command you to rethink your stance. Look at this empire" —she sweeps an arm across the room they stand in, palms stretched out towards the crumbling details— "and give me a reason why anyone would wish to stay here? Askr is fruitful. Bountiful to an enviable degree. Do you not deserve a good life after your time of service? Embla, as it stands, cannot give that to you. But I'm allowing you the opportunity to take it for yourself."

           Veronica heaves a deep sigh. Her arms fall to her sides, defeated. Quietly, she recalls the Goddess Embla and her brief encounter with her memory. The love she held for humanity was… feverish. But she drove them away despite it all. Is not Veronica doing the same?

           The princess draws her eyes downwards— no, she thinks she has good reason to do this. Embla served no one but herself in her isolation. This loneliness… she'd like to think it was closer to penance. Yes, that seemed right.

           "Once more, let me ask you: why do you stay? What is left for you to do here that cannot be done by others? What will you gain?" she runs a hand through her hair, fingers caught in the air, unused to the shortness, "There is barely enough gold in the treasury to salary our army. Much less a Hero like you. Even if I wished to keep you, I cannot. So at least give me the peace of mind, knowing that you're well. Let me make this choice. Go to Askr. Live a better life. This empire is on its knees… you will not accomplish as much as you think."

tower reversed

encursed​:

au starter for @sharpscion

           THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE WAY VERONICA walks that reads “urgent.” It would be easy for someone like Scathach to tell; the way her heels snap against the halls of Castle Embla like whips, the way that her strides extend to the farthest reaches of her legs. She waits for no one. Her pace is sharp, impatient. Like a knife waiting to plunge into flesh.

          "…Scathach.“

And so does the blade meet its target. Veronica halts just in front of him, arms crossed as she pulls her chin up to meet his gaze. She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound as piercing as it does, but her words come out whetted regardless. It’s a bad habit— the more she works, the more sullen her mood.

          And given the state of the Emblian Empire? It seems work is all she’s been doing, lately.

          "Your contract has been dissolved. It has been for quite some time, as I’m sure you can tell.” she speaks matter-of-factly, each syllable as distinct as her footsteps, “You are free to leave. I hear your family has been summoned to Askr. I can arrange for you to go there, should you so wish.”

          A long silence punctuates her words. She is hesitant to say more; a far cry from her impatience earlier. Very suddenly, she begins to look small. Her shoulders slump forward. Her fingers lace together and, for a moment, she is the lonely girl she was a few years ago. She looks up at Scathach, expectant. As though she were waiting for him to interrupt her with a reply. Or perhaps wanting is the more accurate term. The words that will come next are not easy ones to speak. She hopes he can delay them.

          He does not. So, she speaks them. Quietly this time.

          “Don’t you understand? You’re free. Free to go, and free from me. I won’t blame you for it. You don’t even have to look back. I’ll allow it. Yet…” she sucks in a breath, “yet despite all that, you’re still here. With me. Why?”

   He turns at her call, sharp as ever, and yet he is far from worried when they are brought face to face. He knows all too well the brave face one must don when in the company of others, sometimes it is impossible to put away. He can hardly blame her when he spots the bags hanging off her eyes, a clear sign of overwork. Ever the hard worker, he would tell her he was proud, but promoting such behavior seemed like a bad idea.

   With a small smile resting upon his features, he listened to her patiently as she explained the obvious to him. The smile dips when she pauses, and he can only take a few moments to himself to process it all. Had he committed a disservice to her, why, he could hardly recall any upsetting event of late. She had never turned away his company even after the contract for his strength had been broken.

   The swordsman peered into her eyes, intent on reading the contents of her soul from there somehow. It is harder to see the lonely girl in need of a friend, and yet, even with all her facades, he can still spot it. It was the same girl he saw so much of himself in, the same one he vowed to stand beside no matter what. He had failed so utterly with his own sister, but this time, it would be different. With his resolve returned to him, he finds that his smile has also returned to it’s natural resting place.

   “Princess Veronica… Look at you, all shriveled up from all that desk sitting and work. I’ve asked the staff to prepare some tea for us out on the terrace, won’t you take a break with me? I made sure to ask for chamomile, your favorite.”

  He places his scarred hand atop her shoulder, a gentle gesture of familiarity, an easy way to bring them closer. After all, how could he ever dignify such words with a response, she should already know the answer.

   “You have no need to worry, Princess Veronica. My place is right here at your side, for as long as I can be. My family has no need for me, but you, I still think there is much we can accomplish together. If you’ll have me?” 

[encursed]

tower reversed

au starter for @sharpscion

           THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE WAY VERONICA walks that reads "urgent." It would be easy for someone like Scathach to tell; the way her heels snap against the halls of Castle Embla like whips, the way that her strides extend to the farthest reaches of her legs. She waits for no one. Her pace is sharp, impatient. Like a knife waiting to plunge into flesh.

          "...Scathach."

And so does the blade meet its target. Veronica halts just in front of him, arms crossed as she pulls her chin up to meet his gaze. She doesn't mean for her voice to sound as piercing as it does, but her words come out whetted regardless. It's a bad habit— the more she works, the more sullen her mood.

          And given the state of the Emblian Empire? It seems work is all she's been doing, lately.

          "Your contract has been dissolved. It has been for quite some time, as I'm sure you can tell." she speaks matter-of-factly, each syllable as distinct as her footsteps, "You are free to leave. I hear your family has been summoned to Askr. I can arrange for you to go there, should you so wish."

          A long silence punctuates her words. She is hesitant to say more; a far cry from her impatience earlier. Very suddenly, she begins to look small. Her shoulders slump forward. Her fingers lace together and, for a moment, she is the lonely girl she was a few years ago. She looks up at Scathach, expectant. As though she were waiting for him to interrupt her with a reply. Or perhaps wanting is the more accurate term. The words that will come next are not easy ones to speak. She hopes he can delay them.

          He does not. So, she speaks them. Quietly this time.

          "Don’t you understand? You’re free. Free to go, and free from me. I won’t blame you for it. You don’t even have to look back. I’ll allow it. Yet…” she sucks in a breath, “yet despite all that, you're still here. With me. Why?"

[encursed]

wanted plots (mission board: racketeering)

VERONICA

i’m really only interested in the any skill +1 thread, which requires a blion! veronica is... not the best at deception, so i’d imagine this would make for a fun task!

TIKI

she’s a blion so she’s down for any of the mission board prompts. i’d like to keep my thread count somewhere manageable, though. what i want in particular are:

authority: she already kind of looks like lyn. why not push it a lil further, eh?

gauntlets: tiki is a tanky girl, so i’d imagine this task will lean more towards her helping teach the squishies rather than Be one.

that’s all! just dm or ping me in the server if you’re interested! thanks 🫡

[encursed]

february housekeeping

long time no housekeeping! dec-feb were some of the most hectic months of my life. we laughed, we crode, we loved and we lost (SHARENA 🫡🕊️) but! we’re still here. undeniably, still here.

anyways, i just wanted to get this out of the way before i start working on drafts again. so i’ve gathered the threads i have for my muses. i know post-event is always exhausting so if you want to drop a thread we have, please let me know. otherwise, i’ll assume we still have them on. additionally, if we have a thread that you don’t see here, let me know! it’s possible it just slipped by the tracker i’m using.

VERONICA

paradise lost w/ @disgracedvessel (julius’ turn)

perchance w/ @ulirblood (my turn)

pang! w/ @ganglotte (my turn)

shyness steeping w/ @seraphiia (celica’s turn)

let’s get you home w/ @maligknightsthorns (my turn)

TIKI

dragon’s, daughters, and dragons w/ @princessmacedon (maria’s turn)

dragon divinitea w/ @nabataprophet (sophia’s turn)

in love and loss w/ @unsungblade (kris’ turn)

purgatorium w/ @arcstral (marth’s turn)

heed the call of the voice w/ @princessofchonsin (say’ri’s turn)

cardfight!!! something whatever w/ @crimsonvassalage (hubert’s turn)

again, please let me know if you’d still like to continue these! and don’t feel pressured to reply so soon, i’m quite patient. i just need to know if the interest to continue these is still there. thank you! i’ll make a separate post for wanted plots since this has gotten quite long

[encursed]

let’s get you home

maligknightsthorns​:

Camilla’s shoes clicked against the tile as she approached the fortress of books. She couldn’t see who was hidden in the pile, but they were certainly rude. "Excuse me? I don’t know if you noticed but you are in the library. You don’t get to kick people out, it’s open to everyone.” She put one hand on her hip and prepared to give who ever this brat was a stern glare and a scolding.

Until she saw it was Veronica. The books towered over the small girl. This was way too many books for a project. “Veronica? What’s all this?” Her expression softened.

She recognized the scowl on Veronica’s face, the young girl wasn’t angry. She was frustrated and feeling inadequate. Xander had given Camilla the same scowl several times. Something was bothering her, something out of her control.

      THE LECTURE SHE IS MET WITH ONLY deepens the creases of her scowl. Camilla, who she recognizes as Xander's sibling, reprimands her with a firmness that could only come from an older sister. It is, by all means, a reasonable reaction to Veronica's behavior. But the little one finds herself in a bad enough mood already. A scathing retort prepares to leave her lips, perhaps accompanied by a swatting gesture to emphasize her vexations. But it ultimately doesn't depart. For the Nohrian's gaze softens, the fire mellowing out into a hearth, and it causes Veronica to milden in turn.

      "Camilla…" she murmurs, unsure of quite what to say next. Veronica looks down at her work— the chaotic realm that was scattered papers, strewn notes, and stacked treatises— and returns her gaze to Camilla. The truth of her intentions were too embarrassing for her to admit, and frankly far too perplexing for her to even begin to explain. She must turn to deception, then. While Camilla seemed like the type to see through lies, Veronica thinks she ought to take the chance.

      "These… are for my studies." Veronica decides, "Yes, I am studying to get stronger, and this was the result. I suppose I simply… lost myself in these books."

      Lost herself in these books… how ironic of her to say. Should she never discover the truth behind these disappearances, perhaps she should consider a career in comedy.

[encursed]

shyness steeping

seraphiia​:

     The conversation flows surprisingly easy between them, though Celica supposes the discovery of common ground has made it all the more fluid. It was clear from the softness of her eyes and warmth in her voice that Veronica held a deep love and admiration for her brother, and the Valentian queen sympathizes wholeheartedly. Even after all the years they spent apart, thinking the other was dead, Celica loved Conrad no less than the day they first parted.

     Now, she has Alm. And Sir Mycen, and Mae, and Boey, and so many others she is delighted to call friend… but Conrad was the first. Her brother, yes, but the first person to treat her with acceptance and love. Nothing would ever change or diminish that.

     “Oh—yes, of course. Thank you,” Veronica’s pause precedes an abrupt pivot from her now discarded line of thought, and Celica is content to let it be, in spite of her curiosity. She doesn’t wish to push boundaries, not when they’ve begun to form such a tenuous connection, and so the Valentian moves to a topic that she hopes will be favorable for the both of them. “…Ah. Perhaps sometime we can get together to study? I’ve amassed a great collection of magic tomes, and I notice you seem to have a keen interest in the subject as well.”

        THAT CELICA DOESN'T PRESS HER IS surprising to her— she'd expected her to be the more outgoing type, similar to Sharena in wanting to coax her out of her shell, and braced herself for such. But the gentle shift between subjects serves to put Embla's young princess at ease. Arguably, this is the most relaxed she's been throughout this whole affair. 

        Veronica reaches for the teapot, and pours Celica the promised cup. The chamomile streams naturally from the spout.

        "Yes, studying… I do enjoy that." she muses, humming through pursed lips, "We must always seek to grow stronger. I… don't usually train with others, but… I know your magic is powerful. I think I would like to do so with you."

        The admission comes with a generous helping of red across her cheeks, seemingly a staple of this afternoon's tea. But, however humiliating it is to admit, it comes out as no less true to how she felt. They are still awkward with one another— Veronica has herself to blame for most of it— but she still wishes to pursue a connection with Celica despite it all. She thinks this is a good start towards that. She's still not quite sure. What she is sure about is the fact that the Zofian seemed happy enough with her company. Veronica is satisfied with that for now. It's not often that she comes across people that seem to like her. All the more reason to work towards keeping Celica, then.

        Veronica takes a sip from her own teacup, though she swallows but a few drops of the drink before the cup is emptied. She sets it down and heaves a sigh. Though it's not an expression of exhaustion, as it usually is. It sounds… almost content, for once. As though she is truly free to relax, now, because Celica would let her. She hasn't felt this way since she last took tea with Letizia…

        She clears her throat.

        "I must...thank you, Celica." Veronica murmurs, her eyes drawn downwards like a veil. For as much as they’ve both made progress, the little one still finds herself in the throes of her own furtiveness, "This afternoon has been good, and I recognize that you've been a proponent of that. I… I hope I've given you something good, in return."

[encursed]

ENCLOSING DARK AWAKENING DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 1326

       Your heels, when they meet the floor, click like gnashing teeth. The sound is sharp against the empty air— enough to startle someone, were you not alone. It is fortunate that it's just you and your tomes, then; Enclosing Dark strapped to one side, and Elivagar in a bag strapped onto the other. Still, for your own sake, and in an attempt to preserve the sacred silence, you try to keep your steps light. Against the quiet entranceway of the temple, your footfalls are a harsh disturbance. Unwelcome, almost. But it's difficult to stop the loud stutter of your feet. The burden on your shoulders seems to carry itself all the way down to your soles. Thus, your heels continue clicking and clicking until they are unceremoniously made to stop.

       Your final step echoes in the room, trembling in the air. There it is: standing in the center of the chamber, the light from the open ceiling shining down upon it, is the final resting place of the goddess Embla. Or, the representation of it, at least. Embla simply faded into nothingness when she expired. But the cardinals and clerics insisted on creating this, anyways, as a token and testament to the nation's grief. You don't find yourself wanting to argue. If the people needed a funeral, then a funeral they would get— nevermind the emptiness of the casket.

       You approach the cenotaph carefully, those biting clicks sounding through the air again. You stop once you're close enough to touch it. The tomb is made of a sleek black marble— a stark contrast to the dirty whites and reds that dominated the rest of the temple. Decorating its side is a pyre, for burning offerings. The Emblian sigil is engraved on them both, crusted with a shining gold. You run your fingers across the cold surface of the tomb, looking down at the faint reflection that dances within it. Then, you sigh.

       It's with sudden clarity that you can recall your previous visits to this temple. So-called "good" memories of it are far and few between— they seem so scarce, in fact, so as to not exist at all. Most of your time spent within these halls were with members of the clergy, who were keen to make a devotee out of you. Time and time again, you were made to sing prayers of gratitude— pontificating platitudes for the powers that you never asked for. Thanking her for the strength in your blood and the viciousness of your spells. You never truly felt this way about her. You simply followed them in the first few instances, then completely abandoned them for the rest. You never had faith in her. Your strength and power, you believed, were products of yourself and your hard work. There is nothing to thank her for.

       Yet here you are now, in a strange twist of fate, setting down your bag and kneeling before her tomb. Murmuring prayers within the bowels of the temple after years of silence.

       "Goddess Embla," you begin, your gaze cast onto the ground. In part due to the reverence that was demanded, but mostly for your inability to look at her as you speak. "I wish to thank you."

       Each word has to fight to leave your throat— the syllables sound like scathing, clicking steps, disjointed enough to sound like another language. But you force them out anyway. For as much as she has taken and taken from you, she has undoubtedly also managed to provide. The powerful magic you now wield is proof of that. Enclosing Dark, strapped to your side, glints as though aware.

       You swallow back your spit. Then manage to continue.

       "I won't pretend that what you did was okay. I won't pretend that I'm not angry. I won't pretend that I wished you were still here. Because I really don't. But…" you take a deep breath, "Well, you've made me stronger. You shaped me into this form in pursuit of your own whims. But it doesn't matter now that you're gone. The power yet remains within me."

       You suck in an inhale. "What I'm trying to say is: I chose none of this. Not my position, not my powers— not anything in my life. But I've learned that it doesn't matter. Because I can choose to make it mine."

       Silence follows your words. You let it linger for a moment before rising to your feet. Once you're drawn up to your full height, you stare down at Embla's tomb once more. Your face stares back, faded within the marble's sheen yet undoubtedly still there. Your eyes flick down to Enclosing Dark, still attached to a belt by your hip. You sigh.

       "I considered abandoning this tome, you know." you say softly, still gazing down at it, "In the fallout, I wanted nothing more than to sever myself from everything that happened. This tome has threatened the lives of people I care for—" memories of how your magic, through it, nearly snuffed out the lives of the Askran royals suddenly rush through you, and your jaw tightens, "—and has origins that disgust me. But the people need this strength. Both the Emblians and the Askrans do."

       You return your gaze to the tomb. "So, thank you. Thank you for giving me this strength, that I may offer it to both nations. Thank you for giving me this tome, that I may use it as a vessel for said strength. And thank you for teaching me that I mustn't shut myself out anymore."

       You bend down and retrieve your bag from the floor. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you light the pyre next to the monument. The smoke rises through the open ceiling, moving towards a heaven with no inhabitant to answer it. Your eyes follow the trail, watching it for a few moments. Then, you make your approach.

       "One final offering, then. To you."

       You bring Elivagar out from your bag. The spellbook has been through much— centuries of use from centuries of emperors have worn it down significantly. The nonstop battling certainly didn't help. The gemstones on its cover are dull, the pages are patched together with parchment and letterpaste, even the runes and sigils within it have been inked and re-inked hundreds of times over. It remained a powerful vessel of magic throughout all this time, however. Holding it now, you can still feel the tremor of your magic meeting with it. The wonderfully warm hum that courses through your veins, up your palms and through your elbows. But keeping it would only tempt you to return to it. Keeping it would lure you into the trap of comfort— of continuing with the old because of the pains of the new.

       And you're quite frankly sick of the cycles.

       So, slowly, you place Elivagar in the center of the pyre. The fires are slow to consume it, crackling and popping as they spread through the surface. Once it's engulfed, however, it all but disappears; fading into ashes and sparks like the goddess they were being offered to.

       Your hand goes to Enclosing Dark, resting by your side. The metal is cold to the touch. The hum of your magic through it is strong, but also unfamiliar. Even after a few weeks with it, you still find yourself fearing it, somewhat. It had been an extension of Embla's will while the goddess lived— now, it’s an extension of yours. But you feel your command of it wavering on occasion. As though you were forgetting the difference between Embla's desire and your own. It will take you a little while more to grow close with it. And even longer to begin wielding it with the confidence and grace that you needed. But you don't simply have to learn— you want to. No more running from pain, you decide. You will walk down this path even if the steps sound like grindstones.

[encursed]

cry for ariadne

any skill starter for @ashenprofessor

        FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN BETRAYED plenty, she should have been more aware that this place was not as it seemed. This seemed the perfect set-up for a ruse; a sprawling underground network of interlinking caverns, spilling deeper and deeper into a dark underbelly, with the promise of knowledge and treasure glimmering beneath it. The book she reads through even says so itself, speaking of a labyrinthine system of traps that Veronica suspects is not too far from the sort that they had traversed through to get this far.

        It seems there is some naivete in her, yet, for believing this place could be safe for outsiders like her.

        She sets the book down on the makeshift table and sighs. She feels a chill run down her nape, in the spots where her short hair tickles it. Had she strayed into this place alone, she thinks she wouldn't have minded too much. At least, then, the sole bearer of the consequence would be her and her alone. Alas, she is with a companion this mission— the academy's former mercenary and current professor Byleth Eisner. And so she turns to face them with a frown wrought on her face and apology threatening to spill from her lips.

        "Professor…" she starts uneasily, her gaze without their usual confidence. Veronica gestures to the book she had read, "I have reason to suspect that this place might be a trap. Let's take as much as we can and swiftly make for the exit… if we can still find it, that is."

[encursed]

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

virtuoustyrfing​:

nue attacks with weeping cry. (roll: 10)  barely hit! seliph loses 1 HP.  (7.5/10 HP)

perhaps it is in response to the tandem of their attacks  /  its current state of being shackled into a more solid form by veronica’s magic. or maybe it’s because some logic exists behind their enemies’ actions during each battle. their opponent wails, enough to send a shiver down the young man’s spine.   &   the sound wave grazes against him.

colm isn’t so fortunate. seliph’s heart jumps into his throat when his classmate falls, only to grow heavy with sorrow. colm doesn’t get up again.   &   grannvale’s king is too far away to see everything, much less serra’s expression. she did hasten to colm’s side the moment their ally fell.

seliph is healed for +10 HP.  (10/10 HP)

sapphires avert their gaze. he can only imagine how she must be feeling right now.

seliph recovers +1 HP from bond.  (10/10 HP)

a deep breath passes through his lips. the battle awaits none of them. and besides… his grip tightens around his lance before loosening, pointing its tip upward. ending this fight is the least seliph can do as long as he takes care. remains vigilant.

seliph attacks nue with gradivus at range. (roll: 7)  hit! (d4: 2)  illusion activates! seliph attacks hilda instead. hilda takes 0 damage.  (8/10 HP)

this time, he decides to keep his distance from their enemy despite it having enough range to retaliate again. seliph aims the tip of his lance at the mist now enveloping parts of the arena before he hurls it.   &   unfortunately, without the magic binding their foe in place, fighting it has grown more challenging.

the fog parts enough for seliph to realize it doesn’t fly straight at the creature but hilda. much to his relief, the lance only seems to harmlessly clink against her armor (or maybe she ends up blocking it, he can’t tell for sure).   &   the lance reappears shortly afterward in his hand.

convenient, even if seliph has perhaps only heard tall tale of such weapons existing.

“ah, i’m sorry—!” he calls to the other, regardless, his tone nothing if not apologetic.

seliph is no longer inflicted with void.

UP NEXT:  @encursed

          HER TEAMMATES ARE KEEN TO MAKE USE of the opportunity she had provided. She watches intently as steel sings and swirls, keeping the monster in its place with each delivered strike. A strange feeling seeps itself into her chest— one that she would assume was pride. That she could use Embla's power for the good of others rather than herself is a development she feels is sorely needed.

         Far be it for her to pray to dead gods but… perhaps a prayer was in order for when she woke up.

NUE attacks with WEEPING CRY: (d20: 8. Miss!) Veronica HP: 10/10

         The thought would have to be saved for the realm of the conscious, for the beast brings all attention back to it with how it breaks out of its bonds. The darkness spreads out, covering the field with its haze. It lets out a loud, shrill cry, sending waves of shadowy darkness hurling towards them— Veronica avoids this with relative ease, though she can spy some who are less fortunate than her.

         "Colm…" the name slips past her without her notice, grief evident in the way it comes barely above a whisper. She looks down at Colm's lifeless form, a frown beginning to draw across her lips. Serra commands light to flood over them, and it pulses with its usual warmth, but Veronica knows that its glow would not rouse their fellow student from his state.

         Veronica turns her gaze away from his body— they would simply have to press on.

         She makes her way towards the center, unstrapping the tome that had manifested by her side. The word Ivaldi can barely be seen through the darkness, but its gold shines feebly enough that she can tell. She flips it open, feeling her magic vessel into it, and readies the spell housed within its pages. It is different from her standard fare— indeed, she feels the same strain she had experienced when first using healing magic— but she can feel its power. The tome glows; a sigil appears on the ground, but before Veronica can strike—

HILDA attacks NUE with AXE OF ZOLTAN. (d20+4: 7. Barely Hit!) (d4: 2) Illusion activates! HILDA attacks VERONICA instead. Veronica HP: 6/10 VERONICA counterattacks with IVALDI. (d20-3: 5. Barely Hit!) Hilda HP: 8/10

         —a glint of silver cuts through her shoulder, splitting skin and causing blood to trickle forth. She cries in pain, and in response sends out the spell she had been preparing. A pitchy exclamation emerges in response, and Veronica quickly realizes what had just occurred.

         "Accident or not, you attacked me," Veronica retorts, turning to face Hilda, "I simply responded." she shakes her head, "But this is besides the point: we must go! We still need to kill this thing."

         Veronica prepares the spell again, feeling its strength gather in her hands. The sigil glows once more, and the Emblian ensures that her target is within her sights before she casts it. The beast is a tricky creature, weaving in and out of forms to confuse them— but she remains undeterred. Her gaze is sharp as it follows it, and when the spell finally leaves her palms, it thankfully strikes true.

VERONICA attacks NUE with IVALDI. (d20: 14. Hit!) Nue HP: 11/50 NUE counters with OMEN. (d20: 14. Hit!) Veronica HP: 4.5/10 Veronica is inflicted with TAUNT for one round.

         But just as she had responded to Hilda's attack, the beast is not about to let her go free— it sends a cloud of darkness her way, surrounding her with its veil. The haze is thick enough that it causes her to cough, a burning sensation crawling its way down her nose and throat with each hack that wrecks her. A voice rises to greet her from within the shadows.

         "Child of my blood." it rasps. Veronica flinches; Embla's voice is loud and clear. "You dare use my strength to nourish your frail mortal bonds? You cannot defy me. You cannot defy your fate."

         She feels a pounding echo through her skull, hollow and dull with pain. This is familiar. She's had this all her life. Ever-indignant, she straightens her back and pulls her chin upwards. "You're wrong." she says, "I have already defied you— look around me! I am surrounded by allies. Ones who I choose to stand by here and now."

         Embla hums. "And when you wake? Who's to say they'll remain your allies, then?" the darkness surrounding Veronica grows thicker, and she begins to cough once more, "They will disappear from your life. And in the end, loneliness will triumph. You will learn this soon enough."

NUE attacks with WEEPING CRY: (d20: 20. Crit!) Veronica HP: 0/10

         The goddess laughs, joyless and bitter as the darkness continues to enclose her. Veronica feels it climb into her airways, suffocating them with their shadow. Breathing becomes an impossibility in its entirety. Embla's voice grows louder, ebbing into a shrill weeping cry that thickens the haze. Veronica feels her vision grow blurrier and blurrier, her hands weaker and weaker. Where is her team? Why could she not sense them within this darkness? Serra said they had her back: so where were they now? Had they abandoned her? Had Embla been right?

         There is an attempt to ride out of the cloud of darkness, but it very quickly becomes futile— for the Emblian turns limp within minutes.

         She slumps over her horse, her eyes clouding up. Her tome falls from her hands. "Where…" she whimpers, "where is everyone…?"

         The darkness covers her, then…

         Veronica wakes up in a start, panting as she shoots up from her covers. A single tear trickles down from her cheek, glistening in the Rusalka sun.

@virtuoustyrfing​ FINISH EMMMMMM

[encursed]

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

serraic​:

   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​

          HER EYES FLY OPEN, AND HER BREATHING RETURNS IN bursts of ragged, rough-throated coughing. Light blinds her. She expects to see the sunlight filtering through the windows of her room in Rusalka when her vision settles— to wake up enveloped in thin, borrowed sheets, the warmth and sting of healing magic faraway from her fingertips.

         Alas, this dream was loath to end so easily; it seems death isn't enough to rouse her from sleep.

         Pain courses through her in waves. First, as a dull ache that pulses through her bones. Then, growing into full-slams of sensation rippling from unhealed wounds. Veronica struggles, for a moment, to rise— her heels dig into sandy ground with trembling quavers, as though she were a freshborn foal stumbling its way through the stable. She's not the only one. The rest of her team seemed to struggle rising to their feet. Had they perished too? The thought burdens her.

          Soon, however, she's back on her feet. And importantly, atop her mount, who had miraculously remained untouched.

         Veronica sits up straight in the saddle, masking her exhaustion with a stiff, regal posture. Her face remains steady, quick to inspect their surroundings— there's an inky black form at the heart of the arena; there's a shadowy beast that prowls within it— in truth, however, she found herself riddled with turbulent emotion. Death is not unfamiliar to her— she had brushed shoulders with it countless times, and brought it about for many times more. She'd long accepted the thought that she would meet it one day, yet this had upset her. Perhaps the thought of her demise being so… useless angered her so. She has not spent enough time in her life dedicated to the right things— she lost so many years blinded by her hate and rage. If she cannot at least offer her death towards a proper cause, it would haunt her all the way to Hel.

         Veronica grips her reins tighter. She'd make up for it now, then.

SERRA uses FORTIFY. (d20: 16. Great Heal!) All allies recover +8 HP

         Warmth washes over her, cresting over her and the rest of the team like ocean waves. Veronica shudders as the magic mends her wounds, going so far as to even relieve her bones of their jitters. Serra speaks to her directly, and the Emblian can't help the small smile that sneaks its way into her face.

         "Much better. Thank you, Serra. And…" her gaze flickers, "I'm sorry. I'll do more this time. I swear I'll see us through."

         The promise made, Veronica sets out towards the mass at the center. Upon closer inspection, the creature that prowled about it seemed to be a large, four-legged beast— and it less walked within the darkness and more so was the dark itself. It was a charlatan, then. Something that could very easily trick them all.

         Veronica wouldn't allow it to do that. Trickery was always penalized within her empire. It would be no different here.

VERONICA uses ISOLATION on NUE. (d20: 20. Crit!) Nue is now Isolated and Voided for one full round.

         She raises her hand up towards the sky and begins to conjure a spell. One of the few she knew that was based in faith, and not her strength alone. The words used to power it flow naturally from her— a practiced prayer tumbling from devoted lips— yet they remain as bitter and painful as the goddess they entreated from.

         "By Embla's will, close the way." Veronica ignores the acidic burn bubbling in her mouth to continue, "Close the sky, close the stone. Close it all. Become… alone."

         Her prayer is answered. Veronica brings her hand down, and the magic disperses. It coils around the mass and encloses it within its power. It stops shifting and swirling, letting out a cry as it is forced into a single form. The Emblian heaves a sigh, before turning and calling to the rest of her team.

         "I've given you all an opening: make haste to use it."

@cleversteel

[encursed]

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

serraic​:

   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! Serra loses -0.5 mag/str.

   “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 

            WHEN NEXT THE SCENE AROUND THEM SHIFTS, IT IS NOT with sudden clarity that Veronica spies the beast they are to fight. Indeed, the Emblian finds that she cannot see the foe that her mind wishes to throw at her, but feel them instead.

           The ground beneath them trembles— cracks splinter all across the arena grounds, sand seeping into the widening maw. Veronica has to maneuver her mount carefully around the fracturing floor, gripping her reins with air-tight fists. There, emerging from the dream mist, a shadow of a beast lords over them, each flap of its mighty wings sending tremors across the area. Her breath hitches.

           The fog settles. As the creature is unveiled, all is silent for a moment… before bursting into a raucous cacophony.

           The dragon lets out a loud roar, its jaw unhinged and its tongue trembling. It sends another tremor across them, the jitters rippling out like a stone against a pond. It is far larger than any Manakete she's seen before. Its scales glint menacingly beneath the open sun— it's blinding, almost. Veronica stiffens. This would be their worst foe yet.

           Eyes turn to face her team— the response is near-automatic now— searching for anything she could help with. Their wounds from their previous engagements yet remained, bleeding out into the fabric of their new garments in sprawls of darkening crimson. Veronica purses her lips, gathering magic within her palms.

PRIMORDIAL SERPENT attacks with EARTHQUAKE: (d20: 15. Crit!) Veronica HP: 0/10

           But, she is interrupted before it can come into fruition, for the dragon once more lets out a deafening cry and slams its body onto the surface of the earth. The strike resounds in waves far stronger than the ones previous, causing the cracks on the ground to further split. Its impact is strong enough to throw Veronica off her mount and onto the floor, whereupon the Emblian quickly finds herself weakening.

           "No…" she rasps, "it can't end like THIS."

           Weakly, she attempts to rise, her palms on the floor with the intent to push herself upwards. But it's no use— pain shoots up from her legs to the rest of her body, and she limply collapses on the floor instead, coughing out drops of carmine and crimson. Had she broken a bone? Multiple? How could the pain of it feel so real in this world? There comes that pounding again— there comes that pain, so interclasped with the rest of her senses that it feels like another organ. She hears a roar growing more distant; cheers that turn into mindless hums. The shroud of darkness that had greeted her before now returns to cover her in its abyss.

           Where she would have once welcomed the return to the silent dreamlessness she enjoyed while sleeping, she finds herself not able— or more accurate to say, not wishing— to leave now. Against the growing darkness, she fights to stay conscious. If only long enough to see that the rest of her team yet lived. She doesn't know how easily she could rest if they needed healing and she had abandoned them.

           "I need…" her voice grows weaker and hoarser, interspersed with gasping breaths, "I-I want… to…" 

           The sentence remains unfinished. Veronica's body grows limp on the ground.

@virtuoustyrfing​ 

[encursed]

artistic license has gone too far » team 12 steel round

delicatevalentine​:

This time, when the portrait of darkness began to emit its bright light, Hilda was more prepared. She urged her wyvern to soar out of the way and managed to escape with the majority of her vision intact. Another deep breath and moment of focus, and her strength was renewed.

[ Hilda regenerates 2HP from Renewal ] [ Hilda HP:  7.5 → 9.5 ]

She had deduced from observing the battle that the portrait that was most likely to have physically hit her was the one of the sword. Of course, that probably made sense… Still feeling slightly stung at being bested in physical combat by the image of a weapon, she flew down to face it and threw all of her strength behind a powerful swing of her axe. 

[ Hilda attacks Portrait of the Sword using Brave Axe with Focused Strike. Roll: 11 — Hit! -0HP ] [ Portrait of the Sword HP: 10 → 10 ] [ Seal Defence activates! Portrait of the Sword loses Defence buffs. ]

Whilst her blade successfully connected with the canvas, she felt a metallic clang as though it was not a picture at all but an actual sword. However, her weapon almost seemed to shatter the resistance, despite not dealing any visible damage. Hopefully, it would be easier to cut through now… 

But her train of thought made her slow. The sword disappeared from the image and became a physical entity before her. Before she could react, it attacked. 

[ Portrait of the Sword counterattacks using Virtuoso’s Sceptre. Roll: 10  — Hit! -3.5HP ] [ Hilda HP:  9.5 → 6]

Outsmarted again by a scrap of canvas. She was ready to go home. 

@encursed​

           THE LIGHT IS BLINDING— STRONG ENOUGH FOR HER skin to splinter beneath it. Veronica lets out a low hiss, eyes screwed tight together. Her horse whinnies, and it takes her a moment to grab ahold of its reins and calm it.

PORTRAIT OF THE VOID attacks with VIRTUOSO’S BRILLIANCE: (d20+4: 16. Hit!) Veronica HP: 3/10

SERRA heals VERONICA with RECOVER. (d20: 5. Weak Heal!) Veronica HP: 8/10

          The glow doesn't leave her periphery for quite some time— it worries Veronica, for a moment, to think that perhaps she had been blinded. But a quick peak from under the hood of her eyelids suggests otherwise. Blurrily swimming within her vision, the Emblian can barely make out the shape of Serra casting a heal spell over her. Thankfully, the cleric has always been more verbal than anything else; wrecked as her sight may be, Veronica can hear her instructions loud and clear.

          "Alright. I'll return the favor," she says, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to clear them, "I'll do as you say."

          She blinks once, then twice to steady her vision. Then, once it's a tad bit clearer, she sets off to do as she's been told. It's strange— she never enjoyed aligning herself to the command of others. But it's not as irksome as it used to be, this time. She doesn't quite know why. Perhaps her renewed desire to aid everyone had such an effect?

          She doesn't have the time to consider it. For soon enough, she reaches a spot a few paces away from her target portrait. The purple one, Serra's shrill order rings in her ears. The distance between them is just right for a spell— which she easily conjures up.

VERONICA attacks PORTRAIT OF THE VOID with LUNA. (d20+6: 17. Hit!) Portrait of the Void HP: 5.5/10

Portrait of the Void gains +1 magic until the next round.

          Luna strikes swiftly and precisely, brought down onto the square center of the painting. Its darkness spreads like watery ink, crawling over the canvas and seeping deep into it. But like all the rest, this artwork wouldn't allow for its own desecration without a response.

PORTRAIT OF THE VOID counterattacks with PRISMATIC COLOR. (d20: 5. Barely Hit!) Veronica HP: 5/10

          From the crack on its surface, a spring of colors rushes forth, bathing her and her mount in a burning burst of prismatics. Veronica winces as it sears through her clothes and into her skin, and quickly urges her mount backwards so as to avoid getting hit with more.

          "Ease up," she murmurs to it, stroking its mane, "we still have work to do."

          Veronica lifts her gaze. She scans the area for a head of blue— one of them, at least— and quickly approaches the one she sees. Serra was right; when she sees Colm, it's evident that he needed healing.

          "Colm. Here."

Veronica can act again with Knight Ring!

VERONICA heals COLM with RECOVER. (d20: 7. Good Heal!) Colm HP: 5/10

          The spell doesn't shine as bright as it used to— Veronica loathes to think she's grown careless with it, but it was likely the case. Still, it mends Colm's woundings enough that it returns him to a fighting state. The Emblian takes a deep breath.

          "There…" she heaves a sigh, exhausted, "It's not much, but… I hope it can help us end this."

@virtuoustyrfing​ 

[encursed]

artistic license has gone too far » team 12 steel round

serraic​:

   Serra had finally begun to gotten her bearings with the metallic creatures when the world shifts, once again. A dizzying wave washes over her ( this time, with memories, half-formed thoughts and scenes of her on battlefields previous, holding a staff and summoning magic, not to harm, but to… save? ). When the clouds of change finally part, Serra sees her team, decked out in new armor, standing against… paintings?

   “Well, this’ll be easy!” she scoffs. And, surprises abound, it more or less is. Copyc Hilda and Veronica prove their worth, tearing in half a painting of… some animal, or something. Next are Blue Hair Guy #2 — Colm, she’s learned — and Seliph. Colm shoots true enough, but Seliph… misses… in a fashion so terrible Serra’s almost inclined to shudder in sympathy. 

   Is it his injury, making him unable to land a hit? This is like… becoming a pattern, or something…  

   “Seliph!” 

   Serra dances to his side, amethyst eyes wide and glittering in excitement. “You know, dreams are strange, aren’t they? You forget some things about yourself, and remember new things… anyway, guess what? He he… I’ve been a healer this whole time! Watch in amazement!” 

   It feels natural, finally, for her to shift into the stance she does. Her prayer to Saint Elimine makes sense, now, that it’s healing magic she’s summoning. Eyes close for a moment, she breathes, and white light surrounds her hands, before surrounding Seliph. 

Serra heals Seliph with Recover. (d20: 6. Good Heal!) Seliph HP: 10/10

   “There! Are you feeling better? You can give me your thanks, now! I’m waiting!” 

   An awful creaking comes from behind her — it takes a moment or two for her to process and then spin, smile fading as her vision fixes on the portraits hung in still air. They shudder, magic growing against one of them— “Watch out!” Serra cries, reflexively. 

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

   It starts with a figure in the back of the enemy team — a flick of a wrist, and the shape of a paintbrush becomes clear through the shadows. 

Grand Virtuoso uses Black Paint on Colm. (d20: 4. Miss!) It has no effect.

   It attempts a hit at Colm, but — ha ha! Misses! She doesn’t have time to celebrate for too long, though — one of the portraits turns towards the other, and they glow, in turn, before… 

Portrait of the Hanged Man rallies Portrait of the Sword.

Portrait of the Sword gains +4 speed, +2 luck and desperation for one round.

Portrait of the Void attacks with Virtuoso’s Brilliance:

(d20-2: 15. Hit!) Serra HP: 5/10

   “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! OW, ow, ow!” With a shriek of pain, Serra collapses onto her side, nursing a gash against her hip. It stings from the movement — maybe even from the dust of the ground! Ooh, no, just her luck, to get such a bad injury… And she’s the healer… She hadn’t even looked! Are the others able to heal her? Probably Veronica… ow, ow…! 

Portrait of the Sword attacks Hilda with Virtuoso’s Sceptre. (d20-2: 3. Barely Hit!) Hilda HP: 6.5/10

Hilda counterattacks twice with Brave Axe. (d20-2: 13, 0. Hit! Miss!) Portrait of the Sword HP: 10/10

Portrait of the Sword gains +1 strength until the next round. Portrait of the Sword is inflicted with Seal Defense for one round.

   “Seliph! Kill that— the painting with— with the— the one that attacked all of us!” A shaky finger points out the Portrait of the Void. “You— can do it! The rest of you, too! We gotta take that one out first!” 

             THE GLOW THE PORTRAITS EMIT BATHES HER team in a soft, deathly pale light. It is nothing if not unnerving at first— but then, the rapture comes. The brilliance turns blinding; Veronica feels her horse buck back at the attack. She hisses when it fades, feeling the sting of burns branded across her skin. 

PORTRAIT OF THE VOID attacks with VIRTUOSO’S BRILLIANCE: (d20+4: 11. Hit!) Veronica HP: 7/10

            Retaliation comes naturally to her; instinctually, as though triggering a sixth sense. Her allies momentarily forgotten, Veronica devotes her attention to striking back. A spell comes alive at the tips of her fingers, and at her command, its mire is flung onto a portrait. It sinks into the canvas, leaving an inky black splotch at the center. It's not down— not yet. But it's evident to her that it must have taken some manner of damage.

VERONICA attacks PORTRAIT OF THE HANGED MAN with LUNA. (d20+6: 18. Hit!) Portrait of the Hanged Man: 4.5/10

PORTRAIT OF THE HANGED MAN counterattacks with HALAHALA (d20: 10. Hit!) Veronica: 6/10. All of Veronica's buffs have been converted into debuffs until the next turn!

            She hums. That's good: she thinks it deserved to get hurt in return.

            The portrait shares in her thoughts— from where her spell had struck it, magic bursts forth. It wraps around her, lashing like whips. Veronica feels herself weakening under it. She takes a deep breath.

            She's tempted to finish it off then and there— if she had used magic in succession before, then she could likely do it again. But there are more important things than hurting. The cry of her teammates reminds her of this. Her head quickly snaps to meet the sound.

Veronica can act again with Knight Ring! VERONICA heals SERRA with RECOVER. (d20: 13. Great Heal!) Serra: 10/10

            "Serra!" she calls, riding towards her. She inspects the bruising— she finds that she's grown more and more accustomed to the act— and gives her a nod. "Let me."

            Where the dark magic had bloomed in her hands, healing light now grows to take its place. The spell feels more fluid, now. Like she needn't retreat into the deepest annals of her focus to maintain it. It covers Serra with its warmth, mending what they can. The glow fades, and Veronica sees that the wounds have closed nicely. If not for the tears on her clothes, it was as though she had seen no combat at all. The Emblian, unconsciously, smiles at this.

            "There… now, go. Our foes yet stand."

[encursed]

delicatevalentine​:

artistic license has gone too far » team 12 steel round

Not again.

Hilda had just been opening her mouth to thank one of her blue-haired teammates – she was about 60% certain it was the one called Colm – for healing her, when her teammates and the metallic monsters faded away. The machines had still been active, but… Had they passed whatever test they’d been given? They must have, because when her vision came back into focus, a different but equally horrifying scene was upon them. 

Four giant frames formed a wall around a humanoid figure in the centre, who she couldn’t quite make out from above. One of the portraits that she could see from her position depicted a goat, the other a sword; she imagined the other two would display equivalently random images. As she watched, two opposite frames glowed almost imperceptibly. She didn’t want to know what that meant.

[ Portrait of the Goat uses Joy on Grant Virtuoso — +1 Resistance ] [ Portrait of the Hanged Man uses Sorrow on Portrait of the Hanged Man — +1 Defence ]

The next thing that she noticed was that, once again, she felt stronger. Her axe and mount had transformed, both sleeker and more deadly-looking than before. Looking around, her allies had undergone visible physical changes as well. 

[ Hilda regenerates 1HP from Renewal ] [ Hilda HP:  9 → 10 ]

Colm – who was now armed with a bow – stood closest to the front enemy: the goat portrait. After he had so generously used the last seconds of consciousness last round to heal her, she felt that she ought to repay the favour. She hated being indebted to people. Besides, she wasn’t feeling too intimidated by a picture frame. 

[ Hilda attacks Portrait of the Goat using Brave Axe. Roll: 15 — Hit! -3.5HP ] [ Hilda attacks Portrait of the Goat again. Roll: 12 — Hit! -3.5HP ] [ Portrait of the Goat HP: 10 → 3 ]

Her new weapon made her feel powerful enough to strike twice, cutting two neat slices into the goat likeness. The resistance was greater than she might have expected from an ordinary portrait, but that was probably to be expected under the circumstances. 

[ Portrait of the Goat counterattacks using Halahala. Roll: 4  — Miss! ]

Its abnormality was further proven when it retaliated. A blast of light fired from the centre, aimed straight at her, but fortunately, her wyvern had been vigilant enough to soar up out of harm’s way.

@cleversteel @virtuoustyrfing @serraic @encursed​

            THE VEIL LIFTS, AND VERONICA SHARES IN everyone's surprise— there, forming a room-like structure, were 4 portraits of differing yet equally unnerving scenes. No doubt that these were magical in nature, given how some of them glowed. In their center was a figure whose face she couldn't quite make out. But that wouldn't matter for now. She doubts they could do anything about the thing, what with the frames blocking their way.

           Hilda moves first, ripping through a portrait of a goat with two strikes of her axe. It doesn't shred like canvas normally might— instead, it launches a spell at her from somewhere within its body. Veronica stiffens, and is only able to relax when she sees that Hilda is able to dodge it. She breathes in.

           "Hilda," she gallops next to her, giving her a grave nod, "let me finish it."

           Veronica unthinkingly reaches for the spear she had, eager to finally use it in battle— like her brother did before her. Though, it seems her transformation was so fluid that even she had been unaware of it until now. The only thing her hands manage to grasp is a tome. Its worn cover feels achingly familiar when her fingers brush over it, and the Emblian realizes that not only had she been given offensive magic— but she had been given dark magic.

           Veronica hums. Finally, something familiar.

VERONICA attacks PORTRAIT OF THE GOAT with LUNA. (d20+6: 20. Hit!) Portrait of the Goat HP: 0.5/10

           There is no strain in her spell when she casts it— no creases of effort rippling across her face. There is simply the magic and their silent obedience to her wishes. It follows the trajectory of her opened palm, hitting the painting square in its center.

Scapegoat activates! Portrait of the Goat is sacrificed. Portrait of the Goat HP: 0/10 All enemies recover +5 HP.

           The portrait rips apart in response, but it's strange. It severs itself not as a result of Veronica's spell, but seemingly of its own volition. The pieces of canvas fly away, attaching themselves onto the surface of the other portraits, repairing tears that weren’t there. It didn't have much of an effect, but Veronica finds herself wary of it regardless.

           "There. That's one of them down…" she says tentatively before turning to glance at her team. Her eyes, having grown accustomed to searching for injury, spot Colm's wounds immediately. Veronica's eyes widen.

           "Colm." she urges her mount closer towards him, a frown forming on her face, "Wait here."

VERONICA heals COLM with RECOVER. (d20: 13. Great Heal!) Colm HP: 10/10

           She doesn't know how she thinks it's possible— use of magic, whether it be anima, light, or dark, was never consecutive. One could not cast a spell and expect themselves to do so again soon after. But Veronica thinks she feels the need to try upon seeing her ally's hurt state; or perhaps knowing this was a dream had emboldened her to break convention? Either way, healing light washes over Colm even when it normally shouldn't, guided by Veronica's hands.

           She still shakes— she still strains. Indeed, this spell has none of the effortless control she did with Luna. But it's strange. It doesn't feel any easier, but it's beginning to feel… nicer. Knowing that she can still use dark magic to aid her team is a small comfort. She had once thought she needed to sever herself from it in its entirety… but perhaps it's possible to be a fighter and a healer at once?

           She would have to ponder on this when next she wakes.

@cleversteel​ 

[encursed]

NOW’S YOUR TIME TO [GET SHOT] — team 12 iron round

cleversteel​:

“Huh?” Was… was she apologizing for getting hurt? “Wait, don’t feel bad! Sometimes stuff just happens and it’s bad, and then you need help!”

It used to happen to me all the time, back when I was only so good at stealing things.

But still, she’s off — battle waits for no one after all! If you don’t act first, it might just catch you off-guard.

The metal machine monster rises to its feet once more, which means it’s definitely not safe to attack now. As Colm’s eyes continue looking about, he spots Veronica healing Hilda. Hilda attacking the metal beast. Hilda getting struck back.

Flashes of pink and red.

He blinks, and he knows it’s not Neimi, but still. Maybe he owes a debt to all the pink-haired people in the world or something? After all, the best of the bunch is the reason he fights, and if he didn’t fight, he’d definitely be dead right now.

He quickly gets within range of both ally and enemy, at Hilda’s side like he’d always tried to be at Neimi’s. He’d gotten pretty good at this whole healing thing, so he does what he can to make sure she stays up.

COLM heals HILDA with RECOVER! (d20: 9. Good Heal!)

(4 HEAL + 2 BONUS = 6 HP)

HILDA HP: 9/12

“Hopefully this helps! I don’t think this’ll end anytime soon.”

With those words, he withdraws, but only so far.

@serraic​

             SHE READIES HERSELF FOR ANYTHING— HER EYES REMAIN fixed on the battlefield, following the movements of both friend and foe. She watches the flow of combat carefully, critical of how things pushed and pulled. Seliph fells a machine and is promptly punished by another; Hilda brings her axe down on the largest of the robot army and is counterattacked badly. Veronica rushes towards her, but Colm reaches her faster than she can, casting a heal spell her way. The Emblian huffs. Seems everything was under control— all she had to do now was make herself available.

            She looks down on her hands, their palms warm from the ceaseless healing. It feels... strange. Exhausting, too. But she must remember its necessity time and time again; especially once she awoke. This wouldn’t stop here. She must not let it.

            Veronica returns her focus to the field. Gaze sweeps the arena. “Does anyone need healing?” she calls, her voice fighting to be heard over the ever-present din of the crowd, “Does...?”

            The curtain of reality once more shifts. Veronica’s mouth continues to move— she feels herself continue to speak— but all is silent. The cheers and the growl of machinery warp into thick, buzzing silence. The dream changes once more— though they would all be mistaken to think it was over.

END

[encursed]

NOW’S YOUR TIME TO [GET SHOT] — team 12 iron round

cleversteel​:

“Yeah, of course!” Colm probably should’ve actually said something instead of just staring while he healed her, but, you know. There’s a first time for everything!

The world moves quickly following, though. Lots of magic and lots of swings and yikes, that thing can stomp. All the while, Colm just sort of stands there, trying to figure out the other book he has. He decides it’s not secretly a sword. (Wait—)

‘Copy’? Did she mean Hilda? Colm wasn’t an expert, but he was fairly certain he’d spotted Hilda around the monastery before he noticed Sariah, and his eyes were pretty good.

Not that it really mattered. The original was looking to be in a rough spot, and so Colm would do what he could! After all, he’s got a talent for this, you know? What else would you expect?

(And then one of the smaller creatures comes up and tries to attack him.)

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #2 attacks COLM with STUNNER! (d20: 8-10 = -2. MISS!)

(0 ATK - 0 RES = 0 DMG)

COLM HP: 4.5/10

He puts away Recover before he can even open the tome again, but the presence of his allies and the other tome — ‘Seraphim’ — seemed to make him react quicker. Where one instant he’s being threatened with a defensive blast to the head, the next, he’s already behind the thing, tome ready, prepared to cast.

COLM counters with SERAPHIM! (d20: 10. CRIT!)

(5 ATK - 2 RES = 3 DMG)

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #2 HP: 7/10

If how quickly Colm learned the thing wasn’t proof of how useless studying is, well.

Holy light erupts from his fingers, and he thinks about how Artur would normally direct it. The collision is easy when you know the motions, and it even seems to have been quite the effective strike! Colm’s a natural. It’s obvious.

Now, this would be the part where Colm heals Hilda, and while he definitely wants to, he’s a good guy! And Veronica’s hurt. Badly. (Does this need any further explaining?)

COLM heals VERONICA with RECOVER! (d20: 11. Great Heal!)

(6 HEAL + 2 BONUS = 8 HP)

VERONICA HP: 8.5/10

“No need to thank me! We’re allies — I won’t let you die!” It’s besides the point that Serenity seems to know her. This mage — Veronica! — has only been helpful! Also, Colm isn’t sure if healing magic can miss, but she was pretty successful at getting the thief back up, so there’s that gratitude to be spent as well.

She, uh, actually looks pretty out of it to be honest.

And then Colm snaps his attention to the same little guy as before, this time seeming it’s armed with, well, that same weapon he doesn’t recognize. (Obviously.)

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #2 attacks COLM with GUARD SHOT (RANGED)! (d20: 11-10 = 1. MISS!)

(0 ATK - 0 DEF = 0 DMG)

COLM HP: 4.5/10

It’s a different kind of shot, but he dodges all the same. He almost finds it strange that it went for him instead of Veronica, but then another does aim for Veronica, and it lands.

Am I a psychic? (He pulls out Seraphim again.)

COLM counters with SERAPHIM! (d20: 18. CRIT!)

(5 ATK - 2 RES = 3 DMG)

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #2 HP: 2/10

He’s a psychic.

His magic practically obliterates it, although he can tell it’s being deflected somehow. (Maybe because of the previous attack?) Either way, doesn’t matter! He could honestly take this guy on his own!

“You holding up, Veronica?” he asks, looking back at her. Then, remembering the Hilda-Copy (who recently screamed the big bad into stillness), he loudly adds on, “By the way, my name is Colm!”

@encursed​ .?

           THE WAY THE BATTLE CONTINUES WORRIES HER; HER ALLIES can't seem to land hits and, when they do, it doesn't pierce through the machine's armor at all. Veronica grips her spear tight, glancing around the battlefield— Hilda had gotten near-crushed by the machine, and Serra had been struck with a hit as well. Seliph and Colm seemed fine for now; though Veronica endeavors to keep her eyes on the latter. She's sure her healing was only barely holding him together.

          It was decided, then. She knows who next to approach. Veronica cuts her way through the battlefield, chasing the sound of Hilda's voice atop her steed. Sand and dust kick up from all around her, and the terrible whirr of steel and crowd-jeer rings loud in her ears— but she is determined not to let them daunt her. She must perform what is needed of her; she must…

          "Hilda!" she calls up towards the dragon rider, raising her spear, "Let me heal— AAGH!"

ALLOY ARSENAL: PROTOTYPE attacks VERONICA twice with GATLING GUN. (d20+2: 21, 18. Hit! Hit!) Veronica HP: 3.5/10

          She doesn't know what it is that hits her— it doesn't feel like magic or arrows, but it hurts. She feels it pierce through her body in scatterings, like a rainstorm of metal cutting through her form. Weakly, she turns around and sees the source; the multi-barreled cannon from before, its mechanism crackling and spinning as it spits out projectiles. Veronica wraps an arm around her bloodied torso, coughing.

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #1 attacks VERONICA with STUNNER (d20-2: 9. Hit!) Veronica HP: 0.5/10 Veronica is now Stunned!

          Would that she could stop to think about what sort of weapon this was— indeed, knowledge of such a horrifying power would surely prove useful to Embla one day. Alas, the barrage of steel seemed only the beginning. It's not soon after that another machine lunges towards her, striking her with what looked to be a metal stick quivering with thunder magic. Her horse whinnies at the shock, and Veronica feels herself slumping over and against its back.

          The pain is unbearable. It blends it with the hum from the mechanisms, the cheers of the audience; its presence is so intense that Veronica almost feels as though it couldn't be severed from her. The lance in her hands slips, and the Emblian finds her vision fading into that familiar, endless dark.

          …she should be waking up by now. She can hear the sounds of battle fade the longer she dwells upon this abyss. But shockingly, when the light arrives, blisteringly bright against her tired eyes— it brings her back to the heart of the arena.

          Veronica blinks blearily. There she sits, still slumped up against her horse. There she sits, lance still loose between her fingers. There she sits, still dreaming— still dreaming with them. The light enveloping her fades, and she slowly turns to see its source. Eyes widen when they are met with Colm.

          "Colm… yes, I am familiar…" she says softly, "We're housemates. I… I've seen you around."

         Veronica looks downwards, both in apology and in exhaustion. "I'm sorry I made you do this. We should focus on healing the others next time."

RADIO SCOUT: SUPPORT #3 attacks VERONICA with GUARD SHOT at range. (d20-2: 6. Hit!) Veronica HP: 7/10

         She takes a moment to compose herself once more. Then sets off, riding towards her other teammates. Eyes turn up to the skies, searching for a telltale head of pink. An arrow strikes her in the middle of her search, causing her to stumble back. Her horse whinnies in horror, and Veronica gnashes her teeth harder and harder. But there is no time for her to recover; not now, while their battle slogged on. And so she ignores the spinning in her head and presses on, galloping through the arena until she can see Hilda soaring through the air.

         "Let me aid you!" she calls, raising her spear, light gathering at its tip, "Keep fighting. I'll be here if you need me."

         Her magic envelopes the student, ever-warm and ever-bright. Veronica pours all her remaining focus into the spell, maintaining its splendor until the very end. It finishes, and once she can see that Hilda's wounds have closed, she heaves a deep sigh.

         Her arms grow weaker— she can feel the spear grow heavier with each time she raises it. But she will keep doing it. She must learn to do so, for how can she heal her broken nation if she cannot even manage in a dream?

[encursed]

NOW’S YOUR TIME TO [GET SHOT] — team 12 iron round

            THE DREAM SHIFTS FLUIDLY FROM ONE SCENE TO THE NEXT. Veronica startles at the way she is hoisted up onto the back of a suddenly-materializing horse, its reins thrust into her unsteady hand as a lance appears in the other. She blinks. Dizzying it is, almost, to be drawn up to the height of a mounted combatant— but Veronica keeps her composure as calm as she can make it. Though all of them had been granted weapons and armor anew, she can sense that their injuries have gotten none the better. A blue-haired ally remained on the ground despite his tattered clothes shifting into priest's robes— Veronica feels her own wounds still sting against the cloth of her shirt. Perturbing as all this was getting, she must keep her emotions moored if she wished to keep them all alive.

            Especially considering their newly formed foes: there, emerging from the wake of their bygone beast is a small army of machines, with a giant automatron at the helm. A strange mechanism hangs from their limbs, akin to a cannon with multiple mouths. It’s not something Veronica thinks they’d like to get struck by. Their armor shines menacingly beneath the open sun, the glare near-enough to blind someone. They did not seem like the type of foe to fall so easily.

            Veronica's eyes turn to her team, then to the figure of the collapsed student on the arena ground.

            If she couldn't make her foes fall, she must at least continue to help her team up.

            She urges her steed to trot towards him— Colm, the name suddenly enters her mind— slowly, so as to keep from scaring him. Veronica takes her lance and raises it to the sky. It's not meant for healing, she knows. But in this moment, she needs not a weapon, but rather, a staff. They stood in dire straits; if she could transform herself into a healer, so could this lance.

Veronica recovers +1 HP from Blessed Lance. Veronica HP: 6.5/10 VERONICA heals COLM with PHYSIC. (d20: 19. Great Heal!) Colm HP: 4.5/10

            "Get up and be well," she murmurs.

            Magic shines through the iron handle of the spear; as though light had been collected from the sun itself, it begins to glow. Veronica uses her hands to guide the power from its body to Colm's, the healing light washing over him like a river. The Emblian heaves a sigh. She can tell she's improving, but still, she wonders if it's enough. If it ever even will be.

            Perhaps for now, she can believe that it is. Even in a dream, that she could be anything other than a beast on the battlefield is a small comfort to her.

@ whoever’s next!