#making-dough

[allyphase]

unit

A worthy ally. However, her high recruitment asking price can be daunting even to experienced tacticians. In addition, she joined our army late, and thus needed to catch up with the other fliers we already had. Still, there's always use for a flier in an army, and with her immense skill here in Fodlan, she'd be a helpful force nonetheless.

Deployment - DEPLOYED!

[beholdenning]

Ephidel and Limstella were one thing. She's never met the first and the second was just weird at best. But, this. This took the cake. "I didn't know they sent parrots to school.", Farina commented and then smirked mischievously. Well, that just gave her an idea. "Let's try this. Repeat after me. 'SQUAWK! Denning wants a cracker! SQUAWK!'" It's probably wrong to be bullying a newcomer like this but damn, was it fun!

Denning blinks dumbly at the familiar woman who approaches him to squawk at him like an exotic bird; He's seen the upturned quirk of her lips though, an expression often attributed to laughter. Laughter does not easily lapse into silence. That is good.

She also gives him an order, but does not bother to walk him through the steps; So, Denning's brow furrows as he tries and fails to wrap his teeth around the words she offers, but does successfully muster a perfect imitation of a parrot's call, once, twice.

They blink at her again, owlishly this time, waiting for affirmation so they can continue cleaning the windows. After a second, their hands come to speak. 'i did not know this clime is agreeable to parrots. i have not seen, nor heard any.'

[luneirika]

raiden turn the game console off right now! | team 9 iron round

Feathered wings beat rhythmically beneath her, keeping her both afloat and her nerves from fraying. The arena hasn’t changed at all but where one foe once stood now are four. Her head still aches from the cold and the deep slumber she had been pulled beneath. One she feared would never end. Her right hand clasps around the weapon she holds, not her reliable, trusted sword but a lance. Just like Ephraim and Tana. 

She can do this, she’s sure of it. The lance seems to respond to fond thought of her brother and best friend as warmth surges through her hand and into her body.

Blessed Lance restores 1 HP to Eirika Eirika has 6/10 HP remaining

With a steadying breath, she urges her pegasus to fly forward, carrying her over to Odin. Equipped with healing magic, she wonders if this too, is something she can make use of.

Eirika casts Recover on Owain Roll d20: 5! 3HP recovered Owain has 6/10 HP remaining

Eirika frowns, despondent and irritated by her meager display of skill. She’s never used white magic before but it feels as though the spell is trying to taunt her. Regardless, some of the colour returns to Odin’s face, a sign that his wounds are healing at least. “I’m sorry, that seems to be the limit of my ability right now,” Eirika confesses, struggling to look the man in the eyes. “Please, be cautious. We cannot do this without you.”

@making-dough, @viridescent-lance & @teneguine

[carefreemonk]

[ Dandelion ] The worst part of being shrunk was all things that were now a threat. In this case, a stray breeze. "How are you still looking so chill?", Farina complained to her wooly-haired companion, looking considerably more frazzled and clinging tightly onto her dandelion parachute. "We're stuck." Well, up until they touched down somewhere and who knows when and where that'll be. "How about a game of 'I spy'?", she sighed. Well, there didn't seem to be a whole lot else they could do right now. May as well have something to pass the time?

"'I spy'...? No, I do not think I shall."

The monk beamed, looking for all the world his sunny best, his typical 'without a care' expression so ingrained he no longer had to try.

"I am afraid you are quite mistaken, milady."

It was discreet, but his knuckles clung just a little tighter on his side of the dandelion. Just a little whiter.

"I dare say heights feel different like this. I have, today, learned I much prefer them from the peak of a mountain - from the relative safety of terra firma."

Oh me, oh my. What was he to do?

"I would much, much rather play a game of holding hands - I don't think my poor heart will take being up here for much longer without some manner of reassurance, you see."

If he went down here, he didn't want it to be alone. How pathetic would that be?

Oh so tentatively, he let go with one hand, felt himself sink into the dandelion's sprouted seeds just a pinch deeper, and tried to reach over. The mark of air hummed quietly, as though amused.

"Please?"

[teneguine]

i’m fuckin’ invincible! - team 9 gold round

The cave crumbles, its rocky exterior giving way to the open air. Dust clouds whip up as the arena does away with its drab and dreary setting, but they do not last long, for a deluge of rainfall immediately snuffs them out. They are high in the clouds now, our heroes, situated atop a concrete plateau just barely beneath petering droplets. As Owain looks down, he can see roads and buildings, but not any kind of road or building from his world. No, this technology is foreign, almost alien. Were it not for his adventures in Eden, he wouldn’t have a name for his setting. A city is what he knows it as, despite it contrasting with the preestablished definition of the word. They are atop a skyscraper: another word he has come to know through that book. As his eyes scan the horizon he notices several more sprouting from the ground he can barely make out, though none are as tall as the one he fights on.

His head then snaps to his enemy, and his gear is exchanged for a new set. A pegasus’ wings lift him into the air, and all that heavy stuff from last round has disappeared to make room for a pair of gauntlets in his hands. He scoffs at his foe, for he knows it will be taken down in spite of its gargantuan size. It is a metal titan of near-unimaginable design, standing on two legs and sporting a pair of protrusions he can only guess are meant to be arms. But they connect into no sort of hand, and are positioned up and out of the way of the creature’s body--almost like a bird’s wingspan. Its giant metal face opens and lets loose a mechanical roar, shattering the glass on floors below, and causing a smaller triad of drones to cling to their stadium. It then goes silent, and a translucent veil envelops its body. It disappears, though perhaps blending in would be a better way of stating things. Its body is now the same color as they grey sky and falling rain--a target impossible to hit, again in spite of its gargantuan size. 

“Hmph,” Dark smirks, pulling his weapons on tighter, “you dare make an enemy of me? You will meet your end, fiend, for I have been reborn as the Fist of the South Star! Watch as I unleash my fury!” 

Owain uses Brave Knuckles! Roll 4d20+6 = 11, 9, 17, 17; hit, hit, hit, hit! -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP; Radio Scout: Scrap A 8/20 HP

Self-Repair activates! Roll 1d7 = 7, Alloy Arsenal: Revengeance consumes Radio Scout: Scrap A to heal +1 HP and gain a permanent +1 luck

“My first four forms collide against your tin-can flesh! URAAHH!”

“Fall to the might of my Blade of Light!”

“Garden of Gaiden will leave you reeling!” 

“Taste my Mystery of the Emblem!”

“Genealogy of Infinite Pain! It hurts so bad, your grandchildren will be wincing for years after your death!” 

Of note is the fact that robots do not have children. They do, however, get eaten. And this one, after taking a beating of four deadly punches from the Scion of Legend, does just that. The kill switch in its body detects that it has taken sufficient damage, and lights a siren to signal it is no longer of use. Instantly Owain’s foe is consumed by the bigger one. He recoils in disgust, flying back a few feet with his mount, but is ultimately undeterred. When another bot climbs up to replace the first, he is quick to strike it down just as he did its predecessor, spouting another quartet of special moves.

Summon Scouts activates! Radio Scout A is replaced!

Owain uses Brave Knuckles! Roll 4d20+6 = 7, 24, 15, 17; hit, hit, hit, hit! -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP; Radio Scout: Scrap A 8/20 HP

Self-Repair activates! Roll 1d7 = 3, Alloy Arsenal: Revengeance consumes Radio Scout: Scrap A to heal +1 HP and gain a permanent +0.5 base damage

“Had enough yet? You will after a Thracia Thrashing!”

“Binding Beatdown!” 

“Blazing Beat-Up!”

“This move I know well, so cower in fear! Sacred Stones Strike!”

Any unfortunate enough to watch would have the misfortune of bearing witness to a near-identical fight. Each ramming of his fist puts another dent or break in the small scout’s hull, and after he shouts his last move, it gets repurposed like the first. 

Again the roof of this building is shaken by the roaring of the machine. This time it feels stronger against Owain’s flesh, knocking him and his mount onto the ground. He holds on, just barely, but his effort is futile. Another scout comes to replace his second kill, creating a dip in his ego and a falter in his resolve. Is there even a point to fighting these things?

Dark backs off, deciding he’s had enough with mechanical gluttony for now. His plan is to wait for the big one’s cloak to wear off, and give it a taste of his next eight sacred forms.

UP NEXT: @luneirika @viridescent-lance @making-dough

[exclted]

˚ · .  @making-dough asked:

"Congrats!", Farina congratulated, coming up towards Lucina and taking her by the hand. A mutually water-marked hand at that. Seemed fitting enough for the occasion. "Those were some really sick moves you two pulled off there. Well, I'm one to talk, anyway.", she laughed half-jokingly. Knocked out in the first round. Well, it wasn't like she was much of a dancer, anyway. "Though, uh, just between you and me", the mercenary leaned in almost conspiratorially. "Does your friend always do his own narrating?" It was... just a little hard to miss given that very long ramble he was spouting right before the finals.

Lucina blinks down at freshly intertwined hands, surprise flickering across her irises before they flit back up to the face of the stranger. The feeling of blooming flowers is too familiar now to even be properly noticed by the Exalt.

"Oh, thank you, I..." but she isn't given room to finish, eyes widening somehow further as the woman leans in closer. It takes her a moment to realize what she's being asked -- Naga, it's been a while since she's heard this one.

"Yes, he has quite the talent for those kinds of things." If the other is making an effort to poke fun at Owain, Lucina seems completely unaware. To her this has always been a matter of the utmost seriousness. "I often envy it, in fact."

[spearingskies]

Calling All Besties: KILL ❁ Team Ten Silver Round

Just as they start getting close to making serious progress against the Olifend or whatever it was called, the end of the round is announced and the weird machination poofs into thin air.

As does Hinoka’s horse, sending her falling flat on her butt.

Rude.

The result leaves her with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she should be glad that the danger to her and her allies is gone, even if temporarily. On the other, come on, she wanted to punch that thing in its stupid metal face.

Speaking of punching. She gives up on the sword and the spell, both of which she used exactly once, and instead grabs herself a pair of knuckles - sturdy, strong, fashioned in the shape of dragon claws. Interesting. Hopefully she has a chance to see if they live up to their design.

They do need to keep up with the healing too, though. Illusions or no, they hit hard. Hinoka, still soaked from head to toe with the magic-infused downpour that the Olifend unleashed on her multiple times, will be the last person to doubt the realness of the injuries that they suffer.

A new Whatever That Is appears, accompanied by two phantom Monks, and once again, the princess does not care for them quite yet.

Hinoka heals Farina with Physic: 1d20=7, +2 HP. Farina HP: 4 → 6 Live to Serve: Hinoka HP: 4 → 6

Hinoka uses Rally Dexterity & Rally Luck on Farina

“A little better, at least for now... Alright, let’s get it everyone!”

> @amitieos @aubins @making-dough​

[viridescent-lance]

🥂 And she thought her miss was embarrassing. "You sure you haven't been needing some glasses, Forsyth?", Farina teased with a friendly twinkle in her eyes. "Think I've got some contacts that can help you out there." Well, that was enough teasing for now. "Well, congrats on your team, anyway! I swear, I'm gonna get past my Eagles jinx. One day."

"Well! I...have been advised by some that reading glasses may be in my near future." Nearer than he'd like, really. Forsyth finds himself squinting at paperwork more often than not, but he doesn't want to find himself bespectacled like a scholar until he absolutely has to. It's petty, really, but he can't find the will to move past it.

...also, Farina is teasing him. That is something that is happening.

"Hahah! Well, I found myself done in by a Deer, myself. Python insists it was karma." Farina is a friend he finds himself not talking to enough; he'll enjoy this moment, instead of letting his head get the best of him. "Perhaps we can work on polishing our lance skills together, sometime."

[amitieos]

our last stand (team ten gold round)

When the world stops twisting and turning her every which way in the pitch black darkness, Elincia finds herself back in the arena for the fifth and hopefully final time. She can sense something different beyond the horizon but she can’t place what. Maybe it’s the air around them shifting.

Regardless, she finds herself draped in the familiar robes of a bishop. A staff in one hand and an old tome in the other, although she knows in Fodlan she does not need either to cast her magic. Looking around she sees Hinoka looking positively radiant on the back of a golden kite, Yuri in a dancer’s garb and... Farina in a bridal dress? Elincia tries to stifle a giggle before getting into position.

“These outfits are certainly interesting. Let’s do out best, no matter what we wear or wield,” she says, eyes searching the enemies and trying to deduce who to target first. Who was most dangerous to her team. The Brute looks quicker, stronger and smarter. “I’m going to strike the War Master, unless anyone has any objections?”

None are posed, so she steps forward and prepares to cast an offensive spell. Aureola. It’s light glows bright and powerful but she can feel it sap her own strength each time she casts it.

Elincia attacks Shadow Brute with Aureola. Roll 2d20: 15, 13! Two hits. Elincia deals two damage to Shadow Brute. Elincia takes 2 damage from Aureola.

Elincia has 8/10HP remaining. Shadow Brute has 25/31 HP remaining.

Still, the spell harms her foe more. With that done she slinks into the backlines, ready to provide healing support. Surely the end must be near. Surely.

@aubins, @making-dough or @theblueskywarrior​

[lycianlynx]

[ Fireflies ] One of the worst things about being tiny was that the fireflies were now enormous. Sure, they might be pretty from a distance but... "Aren't they getting a bit too close?", Farina asked, suddenly tensing up at the approach of a few hovering fireflies. She'd rather not find out if they were now small enough to get picked up by a bug. She offered a water-marked hand to her blonde companion. "Ready to run?"

Small bugs hardly bother Chad — It's usually him carefully scooping rogue ones into cups and letting them back out before they get either brutally squished or screamed at back home, so normally they don't bother them much.

Unfortunately, getting shrunk means they're a lot hairier and more segmented and honestly kind of fascinating-but-gross to look at. If they weren't moving so quick (or, y'know, at all), maybe it'd make for an interesting sketch study, but...

He doesn't hesitate in taking the woman's hand, water nourishing earth from which flowers could spring. As for running, he's already a few steps ahead of her, pulling her along.

"Don't want to get battered by their wings. Let's go."

[ashenprofessor]

On the note were simply written the words: you know what? Surprise me. ;D.

(she just wants to see Byleth in the embarassing outfit. i'm sorry, ahaha~)

The final request was tucked in a corner at the bottom of the submissions box. A nice, easy request to finish with. Dealer's choice. Recalling how energetic the flight instructor was, Byleth took to the kitchen to bake some festive energy boosting cookies and sweet treats for Farina.

Re-adjusting the tinsel lined red with white trim hat, Byleth headed to the stables in search of the final gift recipient. "Merry Yuletide" They greeted handing over the wrapped tins of food. They felt a little conscious as Farina ran their eyes up and down their outfit.

After finding a picture in a library book of what traditionally St Nicholas and his helpers wore, Byleth had chosen her outfit as a hybrid of the two, modified a but based on what they could scrounge round the monastery.

Byleth's outfit consisted of: - A red hat with white fur trim and bobble. Decorated with a string of tinsel. -Green shirt and short combo tied at the waist with a black belt. More bells were sewn around the neckline. (This outfit was terrible for stealth) - Red and white stripped tights - Brown pointed boots (They stuck some fabric tips on the toes to make it curl over with a little dangling bell) - Red over-robe coat with felt holly shapes stitched on - White beard disguise

"Have a happy holiday and I hope these keep your energy up for the festive activities"

The gift contained a selection of hard-boiled sweets, candy canes and some of the recently discovered 'marsh-mallows' with small iced details to make them look like reindeer. A second tin contained the traditional gingerbread cookies in the shape of reindeer, trees and stars.

[boundlesschaos]

📔

Every person handles their battles differently, but I find the way that each person handles fights when in the air most curious of all. I've seen a lot of pegasi be used for their speed, so taking a more direct approach is unusual, but exciting to document.

I would ask myself the meaning behind this method, but there's a strange worry that I'd have to fish out more than my knowledge in order to receive it. I don't particularly have much to my name outside of information. Surely, I'm just overthinking it, right?

[beholdenning]

fletching plumage // farina + denning

@making-dough

continued from here.

♠  - Considering how many times the Morph repeated that one saints-damned sentence during battle, finding out they’re apparently mute was a surprise. Truly, Nergal must've been a being of infinite patience...who also neglected to tell them when to stop so she can't give him that much credit.

"Well, now you've just got me feeling bad.", the mercenary grumbled, scratching at her cheek awkwardly. It wasn't feeling right to be bullying the disabled. It's even worse that they don't even seem to be aware that they're being mocked. No reaction at all. It's not even fun to bully.

"Oh, forget it.", she sighed before promptly being struck with another idea and leaned in, grinning widely. "Tell you what. Go to the kitchens, tell them that and count how many crackers they give you. What do you say?" There was a slight pause as she remembered his condition.

"Just, uh, just nod if you're okay with it. I can repeat that if you didn't catch it the first time?", she offered. He wasn't completely mute, judging by how well they copied the squawks. Just...having issues with words, she'd guessed.

"Den-ning wan-ts cr-ack-er.", she repeated, slower this time, pronouncing every syllable, sound by sound. Damn, this was a lot of work for what started as a joke. She might also need to figure out how to get him to stop. If he does that repeating thing again, well, she wasn't going to be responsible if someone gets driven up the wall!

"Stop when someone tells you to, I guess.", she finished with a slight wince. It might already have been too late by then. She might have to follow along in case things get out of hand. Wait, hold on, would he even know what to do with the crackers? Do Morphs even need to eat? Forget it, she'll happily shove that problem onto the kitchen staff.

"Don't worry about the windows.", Farina declared, waving a hand at said windows vaguely. "I'll grab someone to fill in."

Which left the final problem being...What the crap was he doing with his hands?, Farina asked herself, forcing herself to stare blankly at the Morph's hands. If Denning was a mage like Limstella, she might've suspected something magick-y happening but no, no, she's fought them. He's an archer. She still remembered that half a heart attack she had seeing that many archers! Anyway, she's never heard of anyone successfully mixing weapons and magic. Well, not in Elibe, anyway.

Huh, guess that meant she hadn't completely let down her guard around them. Checks out. If you run around half of Elibe being chased by these things, you're going to have some resistance seeing them again.

Wait, was that sign language? Help, does she need to learn sign language now? Military hand signals were one thing - You needed to know where you're attacking during the heat of battle, after all - but she's never needed to learn sign language before. Oh, help, teaching Morphs how to human was never part of her job description!

In fact, can we go back to murder?, she felt tempted to ask. That was a lot easier! Facing all those archers aside, anyway.

Ah, so she cannot understand 'sign'. That is unideal for when next they meet. (They seldom see people more than twice, and those they do, they usually see again, later. It is not an unreasonable assumption to make.)

Slowly but surely, though, the woman begins to speak words that make sense. Denning does not question the hows or whys of the task she gives them, and simply nod in response, as requested. Why would it not be okay? She is grinning so broadly, a combination of upturned lips and bared teeth that so often played as prelude for orders or conversation. This is hardly different.

And — Ah, few humans so far had given them time to try to chew and swallow the words given to it, accepting their clumsy vocalisations as truth. Even common repetitions happened too quick for their tongue to keep up... These words being spoken with intention to guide, not only as syllables, but with separate enunciation, distinction from where the tones ball together behind their teeth, certainly helps. Their brow raises a fraction in surprise, even if they don’t realise.

"Den-ning," they murmur, haltingly, "w-a-nn-tss c-r-ak-r." Their voice trails off near the end, testing the texture of the word more than the sound. Their lips continue to move with a soft hiss of air, repetition setting in like an old friend. Denning wants cracker. The grammar is incorrect, but they enjoy having words between their teeth again regardless. "Denning," they know that one, the name given to them, "w-an-ts cr-ack-er."

Golden eyes turn away from the familiar woman again (a pegasus knight, they recall now, their steeds a prime target for any sniper), regard the window left half-cleaned, turn again towards the hallway of them they had yet to get to. They put down the rag they were using, hang it on the rim of their bucket of soap water, and look back at her, still mouthing the sentence, before they put voice into the shape again;

"Denning wan-tsss crack-er." (It's slowly morphing into an uncanny imitation of her cadence, that mockery of birdcall. If someone knows her well enough, they might be able to suss her out...)

If she insists someone will fill in for them, they have no reason not to believe her. The knights and monks working together here is not unlike the clockwork established back when the Dragon's Gate was not yet silent. They give her a little bow as affirmative, before turning to move down the hall, continuing to mutter fragments of the given sentence under their breath.

“Denning, Denning, Denning...”

A pause. If they have a name, surely she does, too? All the humans they had met so far had names. They turn around halfway, point at her, cock their head in an inquiring motion clearly forced.

“Nn...” ‘name’ is still beyond them, “... Denning?” but they manage a variation of tone, a softer imitation of Lord Nergal’s call.

Hopefully she understands that better than she had their hands.

[braveryinblue]

[ Elibe ] - An Ostian court dance where the leading partner wields a ceremonial sword as a part of the routine. This dance, meant to resemble a knight with his lady, is getting some attention from the students of Fódlan. "You, uh, might need to lead me through this one, big guy. I only ever remembered the knight bits." There was a slight pause as Farina recalled how untypical a noble her old boss was. "Uhh, you do remember these, right?"

"'Course I do," he growls in reply. Yeah, he's kind of shabby for a noble, all right, but he is still a noble. No matter how far he ran or cleverly he hid, Uther managed to find him every now and then for "quite mandatory" sessions of training.

Traditions and dancing happened to feature heavily on some of these occasions. Back then, Hector had often but found them a waste of time, but nowadays...

He'd never admit to it, but he had something to be grateful to the stubborn bugger for, one supposed.

"Heh. Just keep up with me, yeah?"

[sacaeblade]

[ PERFORMANCE ] There was just something a little awe-inspiring about watching a fire-breathing show. "Wonder how they even do that?", Farina wondered to herself before quickly spreading a greedy, familiar little smile. If she could do something like that herself, just imagine the crowds (and the gold) she could bring. So, what if it looked dangerous, she could handle it, no problem!

midsommar prompts part 2

Garreg Mach really pulls out all the stops for their festivals. The fire-breathers they've brought in to perform are quite talented. They make their craft look effortless, blowing pillars of flame out of their mouths like dragons.

Not quite as surprising as the act itself, but still surprising in its own right, is the person standing next to her in the crowd. Her face and cool toned hair are familiar, yet not familiar. It's Farina, one of Florina's older sisters and another of Illia's mercenaries, although she's working for the academy now.

More importantly, Lyn sees the glint in the pegasus knight's eyes and she begins to feel the dread set in. Her hand instinctively shoots out to grab the other girl's wrist.

"No no no no. Farina, don't you even think about it! I am NOT sending Florina a letter that her sister has set herself on fire!"

[quibbs126]

Okay but it’s a little funny how the flour disease makes the Cookies pale

Like the Dark Cacao Kingdom Cookies are quite literally being whitewashed. Them specifically