#toaboel2023

[troubadontcha]

🧃"Hm... At least you aren't Jakob."

"... And what's that supposed to mean?"

Still, juice is juice, and Dwyer will never be one to pass up a delightful little beverage. The young man takes a nice, loooong sip of the box, focusing on that for a moment. Let the sweet taste of citrus soothe his wounds.

Smack smack. Anyway, yeah, he does know exactly what that's supposed to mean.

"Rather impolite to go comparing people to their fathers and all. Much less when I'm down. What if I did that to you?"

[ostianshadow]

matthew vs sephiran| boel

[from ask @thelightofcreation ]

Sephiran had very much been pressured into joining the Battle of the Eagle and Lion - something about how it was an important tradition of the monastery. Perhaps he’d get lucky- or unlucky, he supposed, and lose first thing. He makes out the shape of his opponent in the rain- enough to try and make a shot, perhaps. He was never good at seeing in the dark. “Good day. I hope you won’t hold this against me.” Sephiran’s HP: 5 Sephiran uses Nosferatu! Roll: 11, hit! -1.5 HP (With Magic+)

Matthew, for his part, thrived in the dark.

Absolutely loved it. Took to it like a duck to water.

He loved the din of battle a good pinch less, mind you, although that didn't mean he'd spurn opportunity where it arose. Focused, dagger in hand (ah, it felt so good to be back to form!), the thief skulked amidst the trees, stalking a Blue Lion student. It felt... a bit awkward, hunting down kids, but, eh.

They'd walk it off. Dog eat dog out here in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Them's just the breaks.

(And besides, none of that mattered when Matthew himself turned out to be the one hunted down.) 

He took the attack with a yelp of surprise and shame, bitterness at having been caught off guard. The spell stung and tingled, and, wincing, he turned to the other. "No promises."

But his chipper smile said otherwise: yeah, no worries, no hard feelings mate. He'd simply have to return the favour, was all.

Matthew counters with Dagger. Roll 1d20: 17. Hit! -1.5HP. [Sephiran’s HP: 3.5/5]

Twice over, at that. He closed the distance, eager to swipe some tome or weapon, but... curse that Fodlan habit of practicing magic sans book.

Matthew uses Steal! @ Nosferatu. Roll 1d20: 20. Success! Nosferatu has been Stolen. Sephiran acquires a Training Weapon in lieu. [Matthew’s HP: 3.5/5]

Hmm. Most curious. As he danced away, he felt, nevertheless... inspired. Matthew, in his younger days, would never have imagined he'd follow in his mother's footsteps where magic was concerned. But ever since arriving to Fodlan, he'd been learning, slowly but surely, that his blood wasn't so completely devoid of the stuff as he'd thought.

And being smacked with that Nosferatu straight in the face? Perhaps he'd gained a better understanding of it just now than any books had ever managed.

Fingers flexing, he dipped behind a nearby tree to plot his next move. No use sitting right out in the open, after all! He was not so generous as that.

[princessmacedon]

@lualamina​

Night-black hooves thunder beneath storm clouds, churning and kicking up sodden earth. Combatants have thinned since the wyvern and its rider crumpled before his lance, but the knight with the hunter's eyes seeks a fresh target still. Do not kill them rings incessantly in his ears, but quieter now beneath pouring rain and the thrum of his own blood. D-- t--- kill them. D--- kill them. Kill them.

Someone stands up ahead. Red hair, blood-colored, supplants humanity with a target. The hunter spins his spear in one hand and strikes down with the precision of a spear-fisher as he gallops past. New, fresh blood drips into the serrated ridges as he rips it free again, where it mingles with the remnants of her brother's that the rain could not wash away.

Jeritza uses Hit and Run [Killer Lance]! Roll: 19 - 1 = 18, Critical Hit! Damage: -5HP, Miracle activates! Maria 0.5/5HP

“Aagh!” Though she catches her new opponent’s arrival, it’s all too slow; a frantic turn over her right shoulder, a lightning-flash of pain striking her on her left. It hurts. She falls back, all her weight crashing into her out thrown palm. It hurts. Mud sticks to sable cloth in mostly-wet clumps, her heart a-quiver in a syncopated beat. 

Maria initiates with Nosferatu! 1d20 = 5 ; barely hit! Fiendish Blow grants +1mag to Maria ; +/-1HP (Maria 1.5/5 ; Jeritza 4/5)

It is a spell as steady as her hand. With every breath, her shoulders rise more, blood and rainwater seeping between uncalloused fingers. No -- no, she mustn’t panic. What would Michalis do here? Minerva? 

“Gh...” She knows, but she isn’t them. When she struggles to her feet it is hasty and ungainly; she only tries to meet his eyes, to see him as he inevitably approaches yet again. 

[venalier]

“bogworms’ brains,” caeldori swears to herself under her breath. if only she’d left just a few days earlier! then she could’ve been out there with the rest of them on the field, measuring her skill and strategic studies against her peers. a few wins, or even the grand trophy! — would’ve been the perfect accomplishment to include in her first letter home, convincing her father that her decision to come and complete her time here was far from a waste!

what she didn’t want to tell him was that there were people she was hoping to see again, too.

“andrei, there you are!” there he is prone in the healer’s camp just like she’d been told. the excitement of an old fr— ally? ... pleasant acquaintance? — overruns any concern about his injuries for now. there’d be nothing crippling from the battle of eagle and lion, anyway.

she tries ( and mostly succeeds! ) at fighting back a smile, not wanting to look overeager about something as simple as a familiar face. but there’s an energy to her step that betrays her as she draws up beside him, ignoring the glances of clerics and passersby. “i was looking all over for you. i've come back. i hope you've been well. and what’s this about you having a pegasus now?”

   ♡   //   @ulircursed

[justices-blade]

"A week of clear skies and the gods decided today was the day to send a storm," Julius grumbles through the rivulets of rain that drip from his soaked bangs down his nose and cheeks. He hated the rain. He hated the cold, too, but the rain was worse. At least it would be easier to hide within the haze (and maybe those one wingback would find their plunges less than accurate this year... Julius hoped so, anyway). Still grumbling, he treks some distance from the rest of the Eagles with whom he has affiliated himself for the third year, seeking tree cover but knowing well enough by now that the sparse landscape of Gronder Field has little that isn't spindly and patchy.

A student adorned in gold crosses his path, unaware of him at first, so Julius decides to take advantage of the opening. Nothing wrong with dropping an enemy or two on his way to shelter. His cards his fingers through his hair to brush it out of his eyes and uses the other outstretched to feel for the boy's energy.

Light glows around his fingers.

Julius 5/5HP casts Nosferatu! Roll: 18 - 4 = 14, Hit! Damage: -1HP + -1HP [Fiendish Blow] = -2HP

edward cannot counterattack! 3/5 HP.

The light lashes out at him a touch faster than he can react, and for a second, Edward wonders if it's Micaiah on the other side of the cast — But once that sapping, draining light fades (it's Nosferatu, it's gotta be), he sees red, but no silver to accompany it. He stands against a student of the Black Eagles regardless, and intends to give this guy a serious fight.

The rush of battle's still as intoxicating as ever. He'll worry about that later. Edward grins against the wind and the rain and the light, still fading, brandishes his Killing Edge, and lunges —

edward attacks with killing edge (sunder)! roll: 20+4. crit! 4 damage!

[regnumaves]

[ caeda 5/5HP ] most of the herd has been thinned out by now, and it takes caeda some searching upon her pegasus to find her next opponent.

the appearance of a giant bird doesn't quite phase her now that she's met leanne, her assumption that she was simply meeting another laguz— this time on the battlefield. she'd seen them fighting someone else earlier as well. it'll be difficult to approach such a large fearsome opponent with her lance, so caeda opts to open the tome that she'd picked up earlier.

her gaze darts over the fine lines of the spell, before she makes an attempt at casting. "bolganone!" she calls out, holding her hand in the air like she'd seen many mages do before her.

[ caeda rolls to attack tibarn with bolganone from range, 9, 2 damage, tibarn 4/6HP ] [ darting blow activates! again :3, 19, 2 damage, tibarn 2/6HP ]

he's fast but she's faster.

well, that and also the explosion of bolganone is large. so much so that even she wouldn't have been able to avoid her own spell.

"uhm." caeda blinks with wide eyes, perhaps momentarily forgetting that she's on a battlefield. she was never a magic user, but apparently the spell bolganone didn't care about such a thing. she would have to think azelle for dropping the tome earlier— it could be her key to victory.

What in hell—

By the great Soan's long, fluffy tail, does Tibarn hate magic. Arcane arts of the beorc have always been the greatest bane of all laguz - beyond understanding for most of them and intimidating just from that alone, on top of the various types being particularly threatening to some of them: the winds that snap his brothers' wings, the flames that burn the beasts' hides, the thunders that pierce even dragon scales.

The one saving grace was that the users of magic would usually be vulnerable - soft, frail, lacking the protection of armor. Usually, they don't fly.

So when Tibarn's next opponent attempts to fry him, one can imagine he finds himself rather displeased.

Tibarn HP: 2/6

With a hawk's shriek piercing through the air as he wrestles himself free of the explosion, he draws a circle in the sky to gain some distance first, before charging at Caeda, talons outstretched - one leg aimed at her side, one at her mount's shoulder.

Prayer Ring heals Tibarn. Tibarn HP: 2.5/6

Tibarn attacks with Killer Knuckles: 2d20(-4)= 10, 2. Crit, Hit! (-2.5HP) Caeda HP: 2.5/5

The former lands better than the latter before Tibarn retreats. His shoulder burns; if he lets her land too many more solid hits, he may end up forced to withdraw to avoid becoming immobilized mid-air.

"Alllllright. Come on, let's see it," he grumbles, his voice unchanged in comparison to his unshifted form. He ain't fond of magic, sure, but it's not like he blames the girlie for using it. She's here to win, after all - he expects his weaknesses to be exploited.

[amitieos]

Thunder roars overhead, sharp winds whistle through the trees. Things are turning ugly out there, and it's not just the weather we're talking about.

He's had time to recuperate a little since his unfortunate encounter with a particularly solid stick that last round, thankfully, but the number of haggard looking bodies Matthew's spied limping back to the infirmary... Yikes!

People are taking this way too seriously, the whole lot of 'em.

As he creeps around another bend, he halts suddenly. There's the snuffling sound of a horse - no, he corrects upon hearing the feathery ruffle of feathers, a pegasus - and there...!

A frightening lance whose business end he does not want to get poked by, not if he can help it. He's still half hidden by a few bushes right now. And the thing is just about within reach. . .

He's made it this far thanks to his sticky fingers,

so why stop now?

CRACK!

Matthew attempts to Steal Killer Lance! Roll: 9-2= 7 ; MISS.

Oh. That is the sound of a tree branch falling from overhead. Small, but enough that he feels so inclined to dip back, out of the way. And there's no way anyone's not going to want to at least glance back at the thing that'd almost fallen on them.

He offered his best and most charming smile - even with dagger in hand, and body low, at the ready.

"Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

Oh, he is so busted...

Rain continues to pour down, rumbles of thunder rolling across the fields. It makes her pegasus whinny nervously but Elincia does her best to keep a bright smile on her face and a positive attitude. They've faced far worse than a mock battle and a spot of bad weather together after all.

"It's okay, buddy. I'll protect you, don't worry." Busy reassuring her partner she almost misses a pair of sticky fingers reach out for her lance. Again? Yet a flash of lightning and a falling tree branch give her the opening to pull Chrysaor out of the way.

Clumsily, she swoops in with her lance, catching a glancing blow against the would be thief before offering a response.

Roll d20: 5! Barely hit. -1HP damage.

"Lovely weather, really. Perfect day for a nice little stroll around Gronder Field, don't you agree?" This time she takes the initiative, readying the lance in her hands. Still wearing a smile, she dives down and performs the technique she's been practicing recently. Whilst the rain throws her aim off slightly, it's a solid hit all the same.

Elincia uses Knightkneeler. Roll d20+2: 10. -2 damage. Darting Blow triggers. Elincia will perform a follow up attack after Matthew's counterattack.

Elincia has 5/5HP remaining. Matthew has 2/5 HP remaining.

[elusivia]

Doting Antidotes [Kagetsu & Zelkov]

Toaboel thread starter for @foreshortsighted

Zelkov knew if Kagetsu was defeated, even in a mock battle, it would have to be a mighty blow. Even so, the rarity of someone being carried in rather than moping in on their own two feet made his eyebrows raise with concern. The arrow and slight discoloration of Kagetsu’s chest around it meant one thing. Zelkov’s jaw clenched, gathering up all he needed and trailing the volunteers who laid him down carefully.

Someone had already used a staff that Zelkov could tell, but some things required manual methods.

“You will be the *death* of me,” he muttered, more exasperated at the close call of whoever had taken such a shot at Kagetsu than anything else. He uncorked a flask and shoved the spout into Kagetsu’s mouth, aware the unpleasant taste was likely to be a rude awakening.

That, or the swift removal of the arrow shaft followed by damp pressure on the wound would do it. Zelkov kept his gaze on Kagetsu as he fixed his hands and absorbent bandages pressed on his chest, watching him as he came to.

“No *juice* yet I’m afraid. Vegetables, or rather, *antidotes* first.” He shook his head. “You two really *went* at it.” He was sure any fight with Kagetsu had been thrilling. Zelkov himself had barely held his own after Kagetsu had taken down a castle of guards. “You did well,” he encouraged quietly, not needing any recap of the fights to know it was true.

Another priest came by, Heal staff in hand. Zelkov nodded his approval, still holding Kagetsu in place, hands steady as Faith magic soothed him.

[hosannan]

Freezeburn { Julius & Nanna

Dragging her heels, she finds the weight of a decent battle to prove invaluable. Of course, she knows better than to be frustrated—she shouldn't turn the coals in the pit of her stomach now that it is over. With the last of her lucidity, she forced every heavy step towards the medical tent in dignified silence, meeting plenty of friends along the way to the tent. Nanna ducked in, at the behest of a handful of clerics who ushered her towards the beds, and there were a few sagely words shared amongst healers who knew better. She insisted on tending to herself, as one would when there were others to care for, and took to a rolled gauze and herbal pulp readily.

That is, before she felt the moon in her chest plummet, at the sight of his infamous crowd of scarlet locks. Ah. So this is why Lady Deidre fought the way a mother would, clinging to anything as she slipped over her own words. A mother's reconciliation, huh? The coals are a-cinder before she could count the stars running on the back of her eyelids. "You. Your mother speaks as though you've been saved."

She strided immediately towards him, taking on the form of a young woman who had not just gotten a shot of toxins through her veins. "Are you so unwise as to show your face around here? Julius." Nanna removed the title like it meant something. (She knows it means nothing from her.) And, with the roll of gauze still gripped in her hands, Nanna pointed at him derisively. The contempt on her face shifts her features to a freeze-burn. "In a tent full of the injured? I may very well lose my right to heal, after this."

@disgracedvessel

[disgracedvessel]

🧃"Oh don't be so sullen. This is all just for fun."

Julius scoffs, shooting a smoldering look hot enough to burn through the wall on the other side of the room. "It's not fun unless I win."

At least his loss this year hadn't been as bad as the year before. He hadn't passed out, and the rain was miserable, besides. At least in here, he was (mostly) dry - his hair notwithstanding - and all of the bodies bustling about made it a good deal warmer.

He swipes the offered drink and sips from it pensively. The fruity sweetness took the edge off, too, and he begins to fold to the idea that there probably isn't as much shame in being here than he had thought. In fact, it might even be better than fighting out there in the cold rain. He finally glances up at the woman and waves her away with his hand.

"Bring me two more of these, if you care that much about cheering me up." Because, after all, she had to be a servant of some kind.

[goldoanheart]

the inexorable forces that pull sara into the fray do not find themselves dampened by the gloomy atmosphere. heavy rain soaks her through down to the bone and the incantation of a spell comes as little more than a whisper, drowned out by the raging storm. the sound that follows is an eerire rendition of giggles.

death answers her call at once, a sharp flare of purple light penetrating the mists. two disembodied eyes glisten enticingly before striking with the swiftness of a snake. magic harshly flashes and parts to make way for a courteous smile unfolding on the lips of the ghost of a girl who steps out of fog and shadow.

[ Roll: 9, Death hits for -3HP and -0.5 from Poison Strike ]

"i remember you," she voices blithely. "not long ago, i was a student under the same house, but i decided to stop playing around. this time, i'll be the one teaching you a lesson."

Once again Kurthnaga has found himself on the battlefield, a place that is somewhere that he would wish to be far, far away from at any other time. But he is a professor of his house, and he must be strong for the students that also inhabit this open field. Luckily for him, he can be almost assured there will not be too much blood. This is only a mock battle after all.

The hammer in his hands is all too familiar, having accompanied him through so much at this point. Dreams and books, and all that seemed to pass in between them. If he had to wield a weapon, he was more than happy than it was this one.

What he is more worried about, however, is the mount he sits atop. While Green Bean has grown far more than enough to be able to be used as a mount, the young wyvern is... still not the most well behaved. Good thing this was only a practice battle, or else he would be even more worried.

As he is lost in his own thoughts, he does not instantly notice the spell launched at him and nearly stumbles from atop his mount, just barely managing to catch the reins as the pain courses through his body.

Kurthnaga is attacked with Death! Roll 1d20: 9! Hit! | Poison Strike Activates! | Kurthnaga HP: 1.5/5

His faces twists in a strange emotion, one that he has not felt often before, at the girl's words. How old was this student anyway? Like twelve or something? Such a kid had no reason to be so cocky.

"You may remember me, but there are so many students who pass through those halls that I could not possibly remember every single one. I'm sorry, but who are you again?" His words are scathing as he lifts his hammer with ease, a deadly swing aimed at the poor girl. This was never how he would have wanted things to end.

Kurthnaga counterattacks using Hammer! Roll 1d20+2: 19! Hit! | -2 Damage

Turn 2 Initiation:

Kurthnaga attacks using Hammer! Roll 1d20+2: 4! Miss! | -0 Damage

@shadoll

[atypicalsenerio]

All he wanted to do was be nice and escort Sakura to the med tent. This was not in the plan.

When with Soren, Julian didn't usually get aggressive or want to run too far away from him. Sometimes, Soren wondered if it was healthy for a dog to be so attached to the few people who took care of him, but it helped keep him happy.

However, Julian suddenly bolted outside, barking and braying at what Soren assumed was nothing. He got his juice box and came outside, sipping as he watched the scene unfolded.

Tibarn was huge, so huge Soren could've missed how Julian dangled from a wing, tail still wagging.

Stifling a laugh, Soren came over and gently detached the hound from the bird, holding Julian close in his arms. "It doesn't usually bite," he amended. Julian barked again at Tibarn, tongue out. "He's used to chasing much smaller birds. I don't think he has good eyesight." Julian whined. "I'll keep him from chewing on you again, Your Majesty."

[gentlenekomata]

through the heart of the hawk | TOABOEL event

continued from here! w/ @regnumaves

Still in awe and bewildered by the majestic power  of his wings, Sakura shily smile as he addressed at her, beak couldn’t curve, but she imagined a radiant smile upon his face, as he dared her to stay on guard for his next move.

“The battlefield is not my comfort zone, but I’m making my best to fit in and help my companions!” she timidly admitted and preparing herself for the next attack, since it was obvious that the hawk king has regained his force… and he surely did.

Almost without notice, – the speed of Tibarn was exceptional – the petite priestess was severely hit by the massive body of the hawk and with a light thud, she collapsed on the ground: she wasn’t completely knocked out tough, since a light gleaming suddenly flood her body and just like a little miracle, she still was conscious and managed to get up on her feet again, with huge fatigue and a weary expression on her face.

“I’m still…fighting…!” she resisted, lifting up the tome still in her hand and preparing the spell to cast.

Sakura (0.5/5 HP) attacks with Banshee (ranged). 1d20 = 4, Miss!

—but all her efforts were futile and the tome didn’t even brighten up. Her body trembled a little, knowing that the ending of the challenge was fatally close.

“It was an honour for me, you’re such a great warrior and king. Let’s finish this” and she offered one last dainty smile, hoping that this one was just the first of many other encounters.

[viridescent-lance]

"Well, look what the cat dragged in..." Python taps a finger to his chin, "Or was it a Deer, I heard?"

Fervent loyalty to a particular house isn't exactly Python's usual modus operandi, but he's willing to indulge if it means an opportunity to harass his best friend. 'Bolstering the smallest group for the sake of fairness' was all fine and good as an excuse for Forsyth's treachery—up until this morning, when more bodies had rallied around the crimson flag of the Black Eagles than either of the others.

Still, it was only a mock battle. Seeing Forsyth in an infirmary with only trivial wounds is a sight rare enough to put Python in a good mood. He leans in to ruffle his hand through Forsyth's hair, already mussed beyond help from harsh blasts of wind magic.

"Try to enjoy your little break, would you?" A playful kiss is pressed to his cheek, quick to avoid any prying eyes. "Cheater."

There he is. Forsyth had wondered how long it would take for Python to visit him, and there he is, expected smug grin and all.

"Come to revel in my failure, have you?" Forsyth tugs at his bandage, his exaggerated frown holding the best it can at Python's playful teasing. He is still disappointed in his performance, but staying mopey around Python is difficult, and he's had some time to wallow. "I've heard you bested a fearsome enemy, yourself. All five feet of her."

Forsyth can't help it. He laughs, shaking his head at Python's ruffling.

"Not that I have much room to talk. Soren is hardly an individual of great stature, and I've seen fearsome foes of worryingly low age." Forsyth leans in to the kiss, giving Python a peck back. Oh, how he longs to kiss a little longer, but his partner is still dodgy about how much affection they express in public.

"I told you! I joined to even the odds! Though, erm, it seems a number of faculty had similar ideas..." Forsyth scrunches up his face, rolling his eyes. It's just like Python to add such commentary to an otherwise tender moment. "I adhered to the rules quite accurately, I'll let you know."

[twistedisciple]

🧃"Here you go, welcome to Garreg Mach by the way, I hope you enjoyed the mock battle."

"Give me more of this--" Griss made a wide gesture with both hands toward the open field beyond the tent. "--and I'll like it here just fine."

He could do without so much nice, but at least it wasn't all feel-good fluff. And, really, there wasn't anything about free food and drink that a former orphan could complain about. Griss took the offering, hardly questioning the odd box shape it came in, but nearly choked when the swig he took from it was nothing but sticky sweetness. Affronted, he drew the box back to study it for a good, long moment.

"Is this just juice?" He threw a questioning look at Camilla. "Don't you got anything... y'know, stronger?" Something that would burn all the way down, preferably.

[higaneion]

"Lilina!?"

Cecilia's usual composure is broken when Lilina enters the medical tent with puncture wounds to the shoulder and abdomen, no doubt inflicted by a volley of enemy arrows. (And yet they deliberately avoided any vital areas—this was an expert.)

She knew this event was supposed to be the simulation of a battle—back in Ostia, they had done such exercises many a time—but it does not stem the worry that seizes the instructor's heart upon seeing one of her dearest students harmed.

The mage general wraps her arms about the girl's shoulders, gently guiding her to a cot. "Come now, sit. Let's get these wounds healed..."

"If this were real, I'd be dead," she says with half a chuckle, echoing her own words from one of the earlier tactics lessons. Did she learn nothing? Her opponent was a professor so he at least knew where to hit so she wouldn't be too poor off, but she couldn't help but frown.

Lilina allows Cecilia to guide her as always and sits when prompted. The medics are quick to begin work and offer a bountiful of snacks and drinks.

Hands in her lap, she sniffles. "I am grateful for this opportunity, but I wished to last a little longer... I probably deserve a D... Or a F, even..."