#DIVINETYRFING

[nagaficat]

Skyrim Opening Scene

A sharp bump in the road jolts you awake from your slumber–immediately, you can tell that something isn’t right. When you fell asleep, it was on solid ground, under white tents of the Church of Seiros. But now you find yourself sitting in some kind of wooden cage, rocking back and forth as you travel on an ill-maintained road. You hear horses nickering, people speaking in a strange language, the steady creaking of wheels beneath the floor… and the rattling of the chains that bind your feet to the person next to you, a fellow abductee. If you want any chance of escaping from here, you better hope it’s someone you like! [ Grants Any Skill +1]

Deirdre shivers and searches for her blanket but it is no longer there. As she moves, trying to feel for it, the clank of metal chains startles her enough to get her to open her eyes. Wooden cage bars have replaced the white canvas of the tent she had fallen asleep in. She reaches to rub the sleep from her eyes and that is when she notices the shackles at her wrists.

Sitting straight up and now fully awake and aware, Deirdre begins to freak out. Immediately she is brought back to the one other time she woke up with no idea of how she had gotten there.

Arvis. Arvis had been there before. He found her, rescued her, nursed her back to health. But he is not here now. She is in too much of a panic to notice that she is not alone. Instead, she rattles the bars of her cage and cries out for her husband. Surely he will find her and rescue her!

"Lord Arvis!" Deirdre shouts out into the night. "Help!"

@divinetyrfing

[ivalatona]

fucking kill and smasha you on a rock - Silver Round      (Team 9)

And like before, the arena remolds itself to accommodate for new foes. All the damage of Stalmandra’s attacks vanishes from the scene, presenting a revamped and fresh environment to wage battle in. A larger enemy presents itself to our heroes, but this time not in the form of a grotesque monster. The Prophet--clad in robes and carrying staff--stands out from the myrmidons at its side.

L’Arachel now holds a shimmering Brave Sword in her hands, but it is not the only change she undergoes. A winged mount generates at her feet, suddenly thrusting her into the air as it takes flight. She nearly loses her balance, but manages to grab the reins in time to steady herself. Should any of the others look to her--perhaps for another of her rallying speeches--they’d see bubbling excitement on her face.

“It seems providence has allowed me to strike from above. As it should! Though I am unused to this sort of thing, there’s nothing that can stop a princess of light on her quest to slay all evil!” She raises her sword high above her head, signaling her allies to revel in bravery alongside her. “We fight again, friends! For love, for justice--for L’Arachel!”

L’Arachel uses Brave Sword! Roll 2D20+4 = 22 and 15, crit and hit! | Myrmidon B HP = 8/19

Myrmidon B suffers from Stun! Myrmidon B is stunned for one round!

The first attack is a downward cross against the fighter’s chest. It arcs straight and true, slashing its way through ghostly flesh to tear open a wound. L’Arachel manages to sweep across some vitals with it--adding to the deadliness of her blow.

The second is a pommel strike to the face. What it lacks in devastating capabilities it more than makes up for in disorienting power. The myrmidon, dizzied from the blunt attack, can’t manage to properly notch an arrow. They hold up their bow, and with shaking hands, try to retrieve a shot from their quiver. But alas, they are too rattled to hold it properly, and it clatters to the floor before hazing away.

What they would be able to see--if they can--is L’Arachel riding back to safety, and then snickering to herself as she watches yet another abomination tremble beneath her might.

UP NEXT: @divinetyrfing or @nagaficat or @ylisseanstar

[ladyleonster]

Gone and Back Again

Ethlyn's heart pounds in her chest as she encourages her horse to run faster and faster. She is going to owe the poor thing so many apples later but they can't slow down now.

The moment she heard the request for aid from the Knights of Seiros, Ethlyn knew it was him. The farmer that had found her own unconscious body in his cornfield had discovered someone else. It's Quan. It has to be Quan. She'd volunteered immediately and set off moments later.

Now she can see the outline of the farm in the distance. "Just a bit further, girl!" Ethlyn encourages her horse. They are so close.

When she finally arrives at the cornfield, she doesn't even wait for her horse to come to a complete stop before dismounting and running toward the collapsed figure.

It's him.

Ethlyn kneels beside her beloved Quan and immediately begins her work as a healer. He's still alive and, just like her own arrival in Fódlan, the worst of his wounds have closed. "It's alright," she soothes as her hands hover over the wound on his chest left by Gungnir. Healing light illuminates and Ethlyn pours every hope she's had for this reunion into her magic. "I'm here. You're safe. Come back to me, Quan, please…"

@njorunheir @divinetyrfing

[avemaera]

stone or mahogany ♚ w/sigurd

The academy professors are bogged down with work and need a little extra help. Teacher’s assistant positions have been opened up and are available to just about anyone willing to lend a hand. Try your hand at helping teach some of your fellow students—or get an inside opportunity to change you and your friends’ grades in the assignment logs. [Grants Authority +1]

@divinetyrfing

The threat guided at the Garreg Mach Monastery last month had come only days after the incident in the Cathedral. So close in fact, that the administration did not have the time nor concern to properly exact disciplinary action on himself and Sigurd. They had spoken with them separately, and promised retribution would come. The mutual assignment to the Sealed Forest had been mere coincidence, they claimed.

The admissions had come to the decision that since this was their first offense, and if no others occurred in the future, restorative justice was preferable to probation.

After tending to the damages in the Cathedral, they would spend a week assisting each other in their duties. Arvis with ensuring the monastery's safety, and Sigurd with educating the students.

“I don’t want my lectern in direct sunlight.” Arvis barks, not even looking up from grading exams. Though it was more like making Sigurd do busy work; or finding him busy work. What else was there for him to do? The man wasn’t a scholar; he didn’t know magic. All he knew was how to swing a silly sword around. “That doesn’t mean put it in the shadow either. I want to read my lesson plans, don’t I?” He demands when he hears Sigurd finish heaving the podium across the room.

Even if Sigurd could be an asset to class, he didn’t want him around. Memories of the forest were fuzzy at best, but still undeniable, and Arvis staunchly refuses to acknowledge some of what they shared in that cursed place.

“Now it’s not centered.” Arvis commands, still not even looking up to see if there was truth to his words. Hmm... this student clearly didn’t study, he thought, circling a large ‘D’ to the corner of her exam.

[hresvelged]

surprise guests | team merceus

Fort Merceus’s security is tight, unsurprisingly so. She holds the piece of wood in her hands, eyes glaring at it for the briefest of moments. Cumbersome as it might be, there must be reason. For now, they have places to be. Sasha is a member of the Black Eagles and Edelgard is house leader. Although they were never close with in younger days, the name rings a bell to be a girl who was shy and quiet. In the Black Eagles classroom itself, Sasha appears to be rather distant. For what reasons, Edelgard could not say.

House Ziegler holds vitality in the Adrestian Empire-- To thoroughly investigate the home is a natural instinct for the Imperial Princess. Its walls are high, much like other houses within the Empire. Despite that, its exterior held an air of simplicity and elegance. Edelgard walks in front as her group is escorted through Ziegler’s gardens. She isn’t much of a person to thoroughly follow flower language, but the aroma of exotic flowers holds an air of extravagance.

Once they approach the door, they knock. Silence. It’s strange, but she thinks nothing of it. Perhaps there’s hesitation to hear the sudden knocks at an abode. Purple eyes turn towards her group-- Sigurd, Patty, and Ferdinand. They’re all here for the same reason. Her attention shifts back once the door becomes ajar, but there is nobody at eye-level. No, she must cast her gaze downwards. The two children timidly stand near the entranceway, both dressed in rather rich clothing. The girl appears to be shyer than the boy and her flaxen hair is tucked behind her ears in braids. It is the boy who speaks first, presenting a sword in defense: “State your name and purpose!”

A wooden sword can’t do much. She knows this. Edelgard allows her expression to soften just slightly, turning to the two as she addresses them: “Edelgard von Hresvelg. We’re here on an investigation. We have no intentions on harming you. Would you let us inside? We have some questions we’d like to ask.”

@lockpicnic @divinetyrfing @exemplaris

[filthtouched]

dance | niles & sigurd

continued from here.

“Oh, no need to feign ignorance,” Niles tuts, approaching with light, easy steps. “I saw the way you were eying me.”

Wary. Guarded. “Don’t you trust me?” Niles asks with each step, and through the tightness in his posture, Sigurd says, “no.”

Wise of him, really.

“Please, feel free to do more than simply look. I found you to see if you could be of any help with a little problem of mine, but…” he smiles, slow and amused. “…it’ll require some intimacy. Two bodies pressed together, to a rhythm of my choosing�� what say you?”

@divinetyrfing

[flowerofgoneril]

Wrong Pink Sister

And if that’s not enough, soon after you hear rumors that Drayden was actually being serious when he kept suggesting a trial by combat to decide who wins the seat. Gladiators from all across the Alliance are gathering for an underground battle royale, all in hopes to receive a fabulous sum of money as well as become Drayden’s champion. Hearsay won’t be enough to confront him–you’ll need to gather evidence. Sneaking into the underground arena should be enough, but fighting directly in the tourney might yield some extra information… [Grants Axe OR Brawl +1]

"Sign-ups are over there," a man's gruff voice addresses the pair as they enter the dirty, dingy arena. Hilda gives Sigurd a pat on the back and grins. "That's all you, big guy."

She tries to push past the bouncer and find a spot to watch the action. She certainly wasn't here to compete!

"Hold on now, spectator seats are invitation only. Unless you've got one or are planning to compete, you'd best be on your way."

"Oh no, you see my brother is--" Here. In town for the funeral. And Hilda knows he'd be furious if he finds out she's been avoiding him. The Alliance Nobility Card isn't an option to play this time.

She has to think on her feet and quickly links her arm with Sigurd's. "He's insisting I sign up with him. Isn't that right, brother?"

@divinetyrfing

[forrisen]

❰❰ PIN ❱❱ sender pins receiver during a fight/training

self indulgent prompts — ( always accepting ! )

THE OFFER IS GRACIOUS, and with only the intentions of beginning a bond between knight and professor, robin accepts.  for sigurd to allow them a few moments beforehand to prepare is proof of another’s kindness, another offered chance that they eagerly take.  although either way, robin would have prepared a quick and easy plan to last long enough throughout the battle to make a dent in sigurd’s advances.  by build and choice of weapon, it’s safe to assume sigurd prefers offensive positions on the battlefield.  whether that’d be cutting down enemies on the front lines or acting as the target to take damage off of an ally.

there are no allies here, though, so robin suspects the former and steps into the training hall, iron sword in hand. when positions are taken, they allow sigurd to move first, despite the lack of control that the decision would bring them.  to be stuck dodging and blocking is a mere test of stamina and strength, both that robin didn’t have much of an advantage in.  obvious when one of sigurd’s strikes nearly knock robin off their feet.

it’s the moment where they abandon the idea in their head and finalize a new one.  a better one, formed of a mage’s speed and flexibility rather than focusing on the difference in strength between both men.  it’s also moments before sigurd’s blade defies momentum and parries upwards against robin’s sword.  gloved fingers grip onto robin’s shirt and with embarrassing ease, godling is pulled out of the stumble and a push of weight sends him to the ground underneath sigurd’s hand.  shock and adrenaline soften the fall before realization settles that the session is over quicker than he expected.

“   oh,   ”   is the only coherent response that leaves his lips when pressure of fingers curled around his forearms tighten by reflex.  robin blinks.  once, twice, and a third, with his gaze moving from the hand on his right arm to sigurd’s face above his.  now, in the moment of being almost completely blanketed by the prince’s shadow, robin realizes how small he is in comparison.  sudden, the overwhelming senses become.  godling redirects his gaze in a rush, hand twitching at the knowledge that sigurd is still above him.  that he is still the object of someone’s gaze.

sepia skin flushes easily, alike the immediate response of magic to a prodigy’s call.  robin’s fingers awkwardly brush against the back of sigurd’s arm,   “   you can... uh... you can get up now!  t-thank you for the spar.  um, your performance was an effective display of swordsmanship.   ”

godling bites the inside of his cheek, well too overwhelmed to attempt a rewording for the stutters passing into his words.  proximity is enough to realize and translate features into one’s mind, yes, but at this closeness, the blur of his thoughts will only recognize indulgence of sight.  the triumphant smile that settles into the curve of sigurd’s lips.  the confidence that he easily wears like a crown. the prayers for sigurd to get up that sound too half-hearted in robin’s head.

maybe sigurd hadn’t heard him?  naga help then.

[freedomarrow]

Hunting People for Sport Is My Passion ⁎ Leonardo & Sigurd

@divinetyrfing ; Bow +1

By Ashera, now this takes him back, in the worst way possible. Leonardo breathes deep, his hand locked tightly around his bow, his mind reminding himself repeatedly that this is just a game.

Just a game.

He has been through the real thing, sure - as both the hunter, and the hunted - but this is just a game. A game, an exercise, and nothing more.

Just a ga—

He flinches at the sound of grass humming beneath someone’s boots nearby, the arrow held in his right hand nearly snapping under the pressure. Turning his head quickly towards the source of the noise, he slowly lets go as it turns out to be the knight assigned to the same team as him.

“... Sorry, sir. I overreacted a little,” he mutters, his fingers relaxing as he exhales. A careless step, that was; perhaps a mere accident, or maybe the man is not accustomed to stealth situations. Hopefully Leonardo is the only one who heard that.

Silence follows as he looks down, adjusting the bowstring slightly in an attempt to find something for his hands to do.

(Perhaps, some could insist that this should make things easier for him, not harder. And, perhaps, it should. But not even a whole war has gotten him accustomed to the feeling of having a target on his back.)

(Besides, he has found it a little easier to handle during a heated battle; equally aware that he must expect it, but at the very least, surrounded by family.)

“... Have you handled many stealth missions in the past, sir?” He inquires, surprising himself to a degree by speaking out, but nevertheless overwhelmed by the need to say, or do, something.

[prhyst]

[ Muscle ] - for the photo, the sender and receiver pull back their sleeves to show off their rippling biceps (sigurd convincing him to do it perhaps?)

“Um… okay.” Rhys pulled back his sleeve and flexed, eyes on Sigurd’s arm. Rhys didn’t want to frown in the photo, but he did feel like it highlighted how little gains he had.

An idea struck him.

“Haha!” Rhys held up both of his arms so they were one on top of the other in the photo and flexed, laughing when the photo was taken. His two arms were slightly bigger than Sigurd’s one.

“Okay, I cheated, but I did have fun.” He patted Sigurd’s shoulder once. “After all, you wield Tyrfing for real. That thing’s so heavy, I’ll let you handle it.”

[amitieos]

[ Muscle ] [ Lift ] - sigurd sheds his jacket for their picture together, revealing rolled back sleeves. with relatively little effort required he holds elincia up so they can be the same height in the picture, then flexes the muscle in his other arm with the expectation that elincia will do the same. he has to ignore how silly it makes him feel.

Their arms clasp together as both of them flex their biceps. It’s utterly ridiculous. It’s made even more bizarre by the fact that Sigurd has to lift her up to keep her in frame. Elincia rolls back the flowery sleeve of her dress and poses, surprised by just how much muscle she’s developed over the past year.

She feels a sharp sense of pride. Closer to her goal of protecting her people.

They both turn to look at each other after the machine clicks into place and all she can find in Sigurd’s warm blue eyes is mirth. She returns it with a deep, belly laugh of her own. It’s so silly, flamboyant and over the top. Heart-warming, Elincia thinks to herself, in that they could share such an unguarded moment with each other.

“Thank you, Lord Sigurd, sir,” she curtsies to him before pulling out her stamp card. “You’ve made my dreams for the evening come true. Can I bother you for a stamp before we part ways?”

[nagaficat]

Apart From Us

By now, Deirdre has familiarized herself with Sigurd's schedule of knight duties. She had to if she wanted to be able to conveniently run into him on campus! And she does so very often! She knows when his patrols end and what the different rotations are this week.

She knows that on this day, his last shift ends just shortly after the dinner rush and she waits outside of the knights training room rather impatiently for him to exit. Her weight shifts between her feet as she watches students pass by and other knights leave the area. Finally, Sigurd exits the room and Deirdre approaches him with a shy smile.

"Lord Sigurd, would you walk with me? I never had the chance to properly thank you for rescuing me the other day."

[ivalatona]

Standing Here I Realize - Gold Round (Team 9)

For what has got to be the last time, the arena flashes a bright white and is reborn into something new. The four heroes enter a small void in their passage to the next fight, and when they exit, they are greeted with something grotesque.

Puppets. More specifically, puppets of themselves. Each is a lifeless, wooden mannequin of its human counterpart, strung up by threads that seem to trail into an endless void high, high above the arena grounds. Follow the strings long enough, and you’ll find only darkness. Each is equipped with the weapons and clothing of its original, allowing them all an eerie mirror to examine their current equipment with. What makes them creepier, however, is the fact that their strings trail back down from the ceaseless shadow above and around the fingers of a puppeteer. Though it is only an illusion, a permanent, toothy grin taunts L’Arachel and her allies. It suddenly snaps its head to the side, and as though the world around them is responding to its plea, two monsters emerge from nonexistent ceiling.

The first is a colossal, eight-headed reptile, which pushes and coils past the set of dolls to bear its many fangs at its prey. They drip, drip, drip, with a noxious substance, hungry and eager to sink into a human neck. The second--a hundred-armed, fifty-headed humanoid--slams a crater into the floor in its wake. Its gruesome heads roar up in unison, ready to resort to unrestricted brutality to reduce the four living souls before it to a bloodied pulp.

L’Arachel is, understandably, off-put by all of this. The puppets appear human but lack facial expressions, breaking the ability to form a sense of empathy with them. The snake instills a primal sort of fear when faced with a predator in the wild. And the damnable monstrosity showcases an intimidating strength from appearance alone. All culminate a sense of terror in the Rausten girl, as they would anybody. But now is not the time to be shaking in one’s boots.

Her eyes trail down to her hands, which have a slight tremble as she holds her legendary Forblaze tome. Normally she’d be excited at the prospect of using this sort of thing, but in a horrifying scenario like this, she needs to act carefully. Rather than rushing these foes head-on herself, she needs to strategize. And what better way to do so than standing back and bossing people around?

“You, with the lance!” She’s quick to then point out, gaze flicking to the arsenals of her companions, “As the princess of order and denizen of guidance, I command you to make the first strike! See what you can do about that awful thing with the scales and fangs, and receive my holy powers while you attack!”

L’Arachel uses Rally Strength, Speed, and Resistance! Sigurd receives +2 strength, and +4 to speed and resistance until R2P

Her finger is quick to redirect itself at Deirdre, who she continues to bark orders at, “And you! His lover! Have you any tact? Any grace? Support him in his endeavors. We’ve come too far to lose, have we not? You’re both lucky to have such a genius mind at the helm of this operation.” 

L’Arachel uses Rouse! Deirdre receives +1 strength, and +2 to speed and resistance until R2P 

UP NEXT: @divinetyrfing

[ladyleonster]

Relationship Status: It's Complicated

Ethlyn is sick of it. She's sick of watching her friend and sister in law hanging all over a man like Arvis Velthomer. She's sick of her brother's stupid puppy dog eyes every time he sees Deirdre. And she's sick of knowing how Deirdre continues to take advantage of and drag along her brother.

When she learns about the blind dating service being offered on campus, Ethlyn is almost tempted to just go ahead and sign Sigurd up herself but she supposes she should at least talk to him first.

"Sigurd!" Ethlyn shouts when she next runs into him. She shoves a flier for the dating service into his hands and grins. "You're going to do this, right? It can't hurt, right? Maybe you'll even meet someone!"

[avemaera]

divinetyrfing:

arvis i am going to fucking kill you

lmao gottie

[supportingdancer]

long time no see

It certainly hadn't been easy to leave her old life behind. After years of hardship and loneliness, Silvia had finally found someone who loved her as much as she loved them. She had friends and consistency in her life. She had two beautiful children that she would do anything for. They might have been in the middle of a war but for the first time, Silvia knew real and true happiness.

Everything changed when the fire nation attacked Belhalla happened.

With her loved ones gone, Silvia was left alone with two children. As much as she tried to make it work, a traveling dancer's life was not the life she wanted for them, especially when that traveling dancer had been branded a traitor. She cried when she left them in Darna, promising a little Lene that she would come back for her while knowing how unlikely that would be. Silvia knew they stood a better chance with an unknown lineage but it didn't make it any easier.

She traveled after that. Sometimes she was alone but usually she followed whoever would have her until they grew bored and moved on to something else. She didn't really care where she went as long as it got her further and further from home. Eventually, she landed in Fodlan and followed rumors of Abyss. A community of others seeking to outrun their own pasta almost sounded like some place she could belong.

Silvia's dancing brought smiles to the other citizens of the Abyss. The more people who stopped and watched, the more elaborate and involved her dance became. Colored scarves twirled about her as she began to lose herself in the motions. As she came out of a spin, a specific set of eyes watching her stopped her completely.

It couldn't be. There was no way. The past truly was haunting her even here. He had to be a ghost but he looked so real. Without thinking, Silvia did the only thing she could think of to determine if this truly was Sigurd and not some spirit. She closed the distance between them, reached up, and pinched him right on the cheek.

@divinetyrfing