Shining Flame

ignifilis​:

A warm shelter is a welcome distraction from the incessant cold. Azelle hates how it turns his blood sluggish, all his innate body heat evaporating into invisible steam. Even his slightly higher-than-normal temperature is no match for endless days of snow and icy wind.

Now, seated as far away as possible from the door and crammed between a forgotten barrel and a subdued group of students, he thinks the edge of frost has finally faded from his limbs. His own bucket of chicken rests forgotten on his lap; it’s far too interesting watching an impressively bold young lad try and sweat through his own.

The boy–boisterous in his scoffing this was an easy challenge–now sits in the room’s center, tears occasionally falling down his cheeks from the intensity of spices. Sympathy wars with morbid curiosity. How long will he go before admitting defeat?

Someone moves in front of him, blocking his vision.He blinks in momentary surprise at the offer. “I am cold, yes. Ah, thank you.” Etiquette demands he accept the piece of chicken, reaching out with tentative fingers. Grease immediately drips along his skin, accompanied by faint licks of heat.

There’s scattered applause. He wonders if the boy finally accepted the inevitable. Glancing up at the girl once more, Azelle takes a cautious bite of his deceptively innocent looking chicken.

Spicy food was never something he avoided. The extra heat was a welcome addition to most meals, so long as it was done with care. This was concocted without care. It’s a raging inferno in the form of a chicken thigh, meant to burn from the first bite to the last.

Azelle holds the chicken away, couching into the crook of his free arm, tears welling in his own eyes. “Fire…does not taste like that.”

Idunn watched as the boy took the piece of fiery chicken, nodding in satisfaction. She knew that humans especially needed to cover themselves up with cloth and other things to remain warm- and those with magic burning at their cores, so perhaps this would help as well. She heard some strange noise around them- people hitting their hands with each other, making a loud popping noise, but they seemed amused by it. Or…did they do it because they were amused by something?

Humans had strange behaviors that were still a mystery to Idunn. She knew what certain facial expressions meant and she could usually tell from how their smell changed as well, but there were many small actions that they did that she didn’t understand. This popping noise they made with their hands, or how at the academy in some of the quieter rooms they’d stand there with their palms pressed to one another close to their faces and eyes closed, or how at times they’d do a snapping sound with their middle finger and thumb to get attention instead of simply shouting or using their voices.

Their culture was intriguing, but she wished to learn all of it.

“What is that?” Her eyes were fixated on the crowd, but it was clear that her question was directed to the boy next to her. She then looked down to her own hands- a bit dirty with all the chicken and sauce, and tried repeating the action. She hit one palm against the other, first slowly and carefully- then with more intensity. Pop. “This gesture. What is it for?”

Then she heard the boy cough, her attention immediately going to his figure. His eyes were teary and his face seemed flushed. “Are you sad?” Humans cried when they were upset by something, that much she knew. Was he upset by the chicken? “This is the taste of fire. It burns inside.” In fact the sensation was still very much there, but she still took another bite as if the piece of meat was nothing. 

“It upsets you?” Idunn couldn’t smell blood from him not the adrenaline that rushes when a human is injured or distressed, so what was was the source of his tears?

He's considering another mouthful when the girl speaks. Everyone else has moved on from the poor boy doing his best to prove his bravery. "Clapping? It has a few different meanings, but people usually do it as a sign of approval or congratulations. I think, in this case, they were trying to support that boy." He gestures with the chicken to the boy--who is now guzzling a glass of milk.

"Hm?" Azelle squints at this girl. Her questions feel like a prank, but she seems genuine. Far be it from him to squash anyone's curiosity, no matter how seemingly obvious the inquiry.

"No, I'm not sad." A deep breath, feeling the last embers of spice cool on his tongue. "Fire tastes...ashy. Like smoke." Now he swallows memories best left buried. She'll undoubtedly press the issue if he says more; that's a topic he has no desire to discuss at present.

The chicken lowers. "This is merely a side effect of eating extremely spicy food. I don't mind it, normally. I've never eaten anything quite like this, though."

So, he tilts his head to the side, leans into this side of himself and does not flinch. Azelle is asking questions. Arvis might be honest.

But he's going to make him work for it.

"Why did I come here?" he repeats. "I was offered a position to teach. Surely, since you've been here for a little while, you see that the library holds information that is harder to come by at home."

"I work there part time, yes," he replies, some of his earlier harshness ebbing away. Still, it does not escape his notice that Arvis uses the possessive phrasing only when it suits his needs.

If his goal is to lull Azelle into a false sense of security, it will fail.

"It ceased being my home the moment I left for Sigurd's army." The guilt weighed on him, in those early days. Kept him up at night, wondering if it was his decision that finally tipped Arvis fully into madness. He knows now it wasn't his fault; whatever had broken inside his brother happened long before Azelle began questioning his authority.

continued from here starter for: @valflaame

His appetite flees along with any sense of self-preservation. Suddenly, absurdly, he wants to cry. Hearing Arvis' voice again, seeing him as a real person and not some figment of a tortured imagination...

Is that all Arvis can say? After all the bloodshed, the heartache, he asks about dinner? Azelle remains frozen a moment longer, letting some of the anger in his veins cool. Garreg Mach's dining hall is no place for a heavy conversation.

Arvis remains, as always, the cunning one.

"...I've an empty seat here." Automatically, Azelle gestures to the spot across from him. It's a miracle his voice doesn't shake. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he's no longer Azelle the young man, but Azelle the child, terrified and in awe of his older brother in equal measure.

It should bother him more, maybe, that his demeanor puts Azelle in a state of unease. It does, if he thinks about it too hard, but there is no use in crying over the past; what's done is in fact done.

Arvis sits, a fluid motion, and brushes his hair over his shoulder with the back of his hand. His gaze settles on his younger brother's face, and that protective pang that he once felt hits close in the center of his chest again. He could ignore it, maybe, but it also feels good to know exactly where Azelle is. Easier to keep an eye on, no?

He leans back in tandem with Arvis. An inch or so, nothing drastic, but enough where the distance between them is clear. Something that's always been there, though never so tangible, so thick. All throughout the war, Azelle held out hope that some day they could bridge that gap.

Now there's an opportunity quite literally staring him in the face and his tongue sticks uncomfortably in his throat.

"A few months," Azelle finally replies, eyes dropping to his abandoned food. His stomach churns uneasily. "When...why did you come here?" The words are sharper than he means, fueled with far too many emotions he can name.

Closed starter for @ignifilis Idunn hadn’t thought much about what the situation would entail or if there was any price to pay for this- all she knew was that she was cold, terribly so, and needed to find a warm shelter. The girl had yet to find a way to ward off the low temperatures, as currently all she had was her uniform and a cloak or two. The cold…the experience felt nice for the first week or so. How the white sands of this place would burn at her skin but never the same way that the blazing sunlight of the desert did.

But now…she figured out one drawback, quite a drastic one. The longer she was exposed to this cold, the more her body seemed to freeze up. Was this the same effect that the plants and lakes suffered? They all seemed to become still and frozen in place, trapped into water’s unforgiving grip. Her body was very much the same- because she felt it. In the morning, it was hard to move and get up. Even her mind seemed frozen by the cold, sluggish and lazy.

Idunn decided she didn’t quite like the cold. 

So, she found this spot here. A nice, warm place amidst the blizzard. Many other students were there as well, but what caught her attention at first was the ritual they had to perform in order to remain at this house. Much like a challenge of resistance, they were handled pieces of chicken imbued in fire- or at least, some sort of fiery concoction. At the first bite, her mouth and throat was set ablaze as if she had somehow gotten a hiccup while casting her Dark Breath, but there was no visible fire nor the typical sensation of a burn wound. Her mouth was very much intact, but the sensation of fire remained.

She liked it. Or well, she was still deciding if she truly did like the fiery soup, but the chicken did taste really good so it was more or less halfway decided. The ritual asked for participants to consume a certain amount of this blazing chicken…she saw no problem. This was good food, and Idunn knew to not let food go to waste ever.

It was mid-bite that she smelled something different. The scent of a student- human, but with dragon-laced blood. Faint, but there. A hybrid? The connection seemed distant, perhaps the contact his bloodline had with said dragon was old as time, but there was something there. The familiar smell of a fire dragon’s blood, notes of charcoal mixed in with a very much human scent. Idunn’s eyes followed her nose, and there he was. A boy, student of the Academy much like her, apparently suffering from the same effects of the cold as her. Perhaps the fire dragon remnants inside him were reacting to the environment.

The girl got up, one already bitten chicken leg in one hand and an intact one in her other. She silently but surely made her way towards the boy- stopped before him, and held out the entire piece of meat to him.

Now, seated as far away as possible from the door and crammed between a forgotten barrel and a subdued group of students, he thinks the edge of frost has finally faded from his limbs. His own bucket of chicken rests forgotten on his lap; it's far too interesting watching an impressively bold young lad try and sweat through his own.

The boy--boisterous in his scoffing this was an easy challenge--now sits in the room's center, tears occasionally falling down his cheeks from the intensity of spices. Sympathy wars with morbid curiosity. How long will he go before admitting defeat?

Someone moves in front of him, blocking his vision.He blinks in momentary surprise at the offer. "I am cold, yes. Ah, thank you." Etiquette demands he accept the piece of chicken, reaching out with tentative fingers. Grease immediately drips along his skin, accompanied by faint licks of heat.

There's scattered applause. He wonders if the boy finally accepted the inevitable. Glancing up at the girl once more, Azelle takes a cautious bite of his deceptively innocent looking chicken.

Spicy food was never something he avoided. The extra heat was a welcome addition to most meals, so long as it was done with care. This was concocted without care. It's a raging inferno in the form of a chicken thigh, meant to burn from the first bite to the last.

Angered at this Dimitri prepares his fire spell once more now he felt he had the technique down a bit better.

Roll: d20 Result: 7-4 = 3 Barely Hit! Damage: -2HP [Hero King: 8/10HP]

It wasn’t as powerful as his last attempt but at least it made contact with the target. A first globe exploded above Marth’s head charring the side of his shadowy face and hair.

Not wasting time, Dimitri tried to fire off a second spell in quick succession. Sadly in haste, his fingers fumbled, messing up the required movement. Instead of a fireball to aim, a simple flame alight on his finger tip. Good for reading a book or lighting a candle but not for damaging a foe.

Roll: d20 Result: 5-4=1 Miss! Damage: -0HP [Hero King: 8/10HP]

Marth, he hears the prince call this shadowed swordsman. Do they know one another, then? These figments of real people--for what else can they be, if a false Sigurd appeared a few rounds back--must have caught the Elemental's attention for the exceptional skills.

Small wonder Azelle and his allies have been clawing their way to victory. Yet no victory is without casualties; Igrene collapses onto the ground, unmoving. The mage grits his teeth. If only he had done better...

Azelle loses -2HP from Dragon Vein. Azelle 8/10HP.

The enemy dragon roars. It unleashes fury, sending Azelle flat on his back. He groans, rolling onto his side before sitting upright. The prince recovers faster, launching two fire spells off in quick succession. His form isn't awful, merely nervous.

"Well done," Azelle says, pushing himself to his feet. "Don't be scared of fire. You have to gently coax it, not command it." Shaking hands dust off against equally filthy robes.

Is that the approach he should take with white magic as well? Azelle calls forth the spell, this time letting the power build gradually, settling into the tips of his fingers before unleashing Aureola.

Azelle 8/10HP crits and crits Hero-King 8/10HP with Aureola [Roll: 15 - 2 = 13, -6, 16 - 2 = 14, -6, Hero-King 0/10HP]

Hero-King is defeated!

Two spells fly squarely into Marth's chest, his flickering aura fading much like the other bishop's did. Prepared as he is for the after effects, the outpouring of wind and magic still buffets him, knocking his shoulder into a wall.

Azelle loses 2HP from recoil. Azelle 6/10HP.

Azelle recovers 3HP and 1HP from Lifetaker. Azelle 10/10HP.

But she could be faster than he, could she not?

 Igrene 10/10HP counters Radiant Hero 12/12HP with Atgeir (Lancefaire.) [Roll: 19 + 3 = 22, -0.5, Radiant Hero 11.5/12HP] Radiant Hero 11.5/12HP crits Igrene 10/10HP with Urvan [Roll: 10, -7, Igrene 3/10HP] (Demolish activates!) Igrene's Titanus Shell is broken. Igrene loses all effects gained from it for one round. (Defiant Defense activates!)Igrene gains +4 Defense.

With a swift strike of the lance, she knocked against his arm, striking the pauldron from his great suit of armor before the blade of his axe carved through her own breastplate. Jerking her horse back, on some foreign instinct she brought her shield up, her eyes peeking over the edge to see that the knight had settled back once more.

For her standoff with the young swordsman, Igrene was eventually joined by Poe, atop her shrieking mount and bearing down with a lance. She, at least, did not seem to be afflicted with such ill-grace or discomfort with her new arms, and managed to knock the young swordsman to his rear.

When he rose, his eyes seemed to burn with a resolute determination.

Kicking her heels into her mount, Igrene reared up her arm once more to attempt a cleaner strike against her foe -

Igrene 3/10HP misses Hero-King 10/10HP with Atgeir (Lancefaire.) (Defiant Defense.) [Roll: 1 + 1 = 2, -0, Hero-King 10/10HP] Hero-King 10/10HP counters with Mercurius [Roll: 12 + 4 = 16, -0, 6 + 4 = 10, -0, Igrene 3/10HP]

Only for the same circling dance that they had been doing thusfar, the arms ill-suited to her and clumsy, striking wide and ineffective, and with the young man unable to penetrate any weak point in her armor.

A few heartbeats pass and Azelle realizes he's already holding his hand palm up. His fingers are shaking. Either adrenaline or nerves; perhaps some combination of both. Casting an attack spell is out of the question for now, especially given his lackluster attacks earlier.

Support will boost morale just as well.

Azelle 10/10HP heals all allies with Fortify (Live to Serve.) [Roll: 1, +3, Azelle 10/10HP, Igrene 6/10HP, Poe 10/10HP, Dimitri 10/10HP

Roll: d20 Result: (12-4) = 8 Hit! Damage: -5HP [Micaiah: 0.5/10HP]

He watched as the Dawn Maiden once more fell to the ground before rising again. “Come on” He said in despair. “Why can’t our foes just stay down” In his haste to finish this fight, Dimitri flicked through the tome in his arms to find the fire spell again to fire at Micaiah. The resulting fumble of his fingers led to the spell fizzling out before reaching it’s target.

Roll: d20 Result: (2-4) = -4 Miss! Damage: -0HP [Micaiah: 0.5/10HP] Micaiah cannot counter attack (range +)

Her grip tightened around the reins of her horse, and she made to go in that direction, to help her comrades take down the young bishop, but before her horse could wheel about in the new direction, she found the young swordsman before her, smiling blandly.

The young man raised his sword in salute to her, the barest moment of acknowledgement, before his assault began.

Hero-King 10/10HP* hits and hits Igrene 10/10HP with Mercurius (Perceptive.) [Roll: 12 + 4 = 16, -0, 2 + 4 = 6, -0, Igrene 10/10HP] Igrene 10/10HP counters with Atgeir (Lancefaire.) [Roll: 3 - 4 = -1, -0, Hero-King 10/10HP*] Hero-King 10/10HP* hits and hits Igrene 10/10HP with Mercurius [Roll: 11 + 4 = 15, -0, 4 + 4 = 8, -0, Igrene 10/10HP]

Though the lance was still heavy in her hand and her arm felt sluggish, so too it seemed he could not pierce through the shell of armor that she wore - for as nimble as he was, his sword found no nook or cranny to delve into, and she remained untouched.

Igrene 10/10HP barely hits Hero-King 10/10HP* with Atgeir (Glowing Ember activates!) (Lancefaire.) [Roll: 5, -7.5, Hero-King 2.5/10HP] Hero-King 2.5/10HP counters with Mercurius [Roll: 7 + 4 = 11, -0, 11 + 4 = 15, -0, Igrene 10/10HP] Hero-King 2.5/10HP* follows up and counters with Mercurius [Roll: 1 + 4 = 5, -0, 18 + 4 = 22, -0, Igrene 10/10HP]

She charged once more, the heat of her bitter disappointment swirling about the tip of the lance, grazing the young man's side - but it was enough, for the blade sheared through his tunic and caught flesh.

Mage battles are fearsome things. Incantations overlap, elements once used in harmony now called against one another. Decisions are made in seconds and there's no room for uncertainty. He's had long enough to recover from the previous rounds; Azelle steps forward, staring at the faintly glowing bishop.

She looks more insubstantial, like she'll fade at any moment. He pushes back the sleeves of his unfamiliar robe. Hands raise--and this, no matter if it's light or anima, this is what he knows best.

Azelle 10/10HP misses and barely hits Dawn Maiden 0.5/10HP with Aureola [Roll: 8 - 4 = 4, -0, 9 - 4 = 5, -3, Dawn Maiden 0/10HP]

The first push of magic misses its mark. Azelle shakes his head, takes a steadying breath. Emotions cannot interfere with casting. The margin for error is far too wide.

Again he calls forth the unfamiliar spell, and though it seems to flicker upon completion, it barely manages a strike against her ghostly shoulder.

The bishop goes still. Her aura stutters, and in a blinding flash of light, she disappears.

Dawn Maiden is defeated!

Azelle loses 2HP from recoil. Azelle 8/10HP.Azelle recovers 1.5HP from Lifetaker. Azelle 10/10HP.

Unlike the time before, these opponents proved to be much faster, taking the opportunity before they could get their bearings to get in the first strikes: the ashen-haired woman tore a scar in the earth, and the giant, radiant hero and the bright-eyed boy darted forward to unleash a wicked combined onslaught onto Nel.

"No - !" It stung, being forced to watch over and over as her companions took attacks that she could not prevent - her fingers reached for her quiver, but she found no bow on her person this time, but a gauntleted fist wrapped around the haft of a glorious lance, as tall as she and with power that she could scarcely account.

This too seemed familiar, and as Igrene looked closer she saw that Nel's kit seemed achingly familiar, the dusty sandy colors of home with a bow at her back. The others, too, wore costumes oddly suited to themselves.

Thankfully, by whatever grace they had been allowed, Nel remained standing, and so too did the young prince Dimitri remain on his feat.

As Poe's magic came crashing down on the bright bishop, Igrene felt the horse between her legs stir to life, pawing at the ground, and a swirl of bright hot light gather around the head of her spear.

"Then we will go," she murmured underbreath to the horse, and this seemed all the encouragement it needed to dash forward into the fray.

Igrene 10/10HP misses Dawn Maiden 7/10HP with Atgeir (Glowing Ember activates!) (Lancefaire.) [Roll: 1 + 3 = 4] Dawn Maiden is inflicted with Weapon Break and cannot counterattack.

At least he's not facing another false-Sigurd.

These enemies strikes quickly, attacks targeted on poor Nel. Poe and Igrene are swift to retaliate. In a detached sort of way, he notices how all their weapons seemed to have switched. Igrene now carries a lance, while Poe flies high above on the back of a wyvern. Even the blonde prince appears strange atop a horse--no weapons adorn him, so Azelle can only assume he's now taken the role of mage.

Which leaves Azelle....

He reaches for his magic, finding not fire underneath his skin but light. If there's ever a time to discover a hidden talent, it's now. But before he can worry about that, his attention turns to Nel's battered form. The healing spell from before hasn't left him. It's merely expanded, the feel of it different than last round.

Azelle 10/10HP heals all allies with Fortify (Live to Serve.) [Roll: 10, +4, Azelle 10/10HP, Nel 7/10HP, Igrene 10/10HP, Poe 10/10HP, Dimitri 10/10HP]

"Here, let me," he murmurs, hands outstretched. Pure white glows along his palm and continues to grow, until it engulfs the entire area, washing everything in opaque shades.

The sun was hot, and high in the sky, with nary a cloud nor the wind for cover. She felt her feet move, trudging through the dunes, heat flooding her sandals as the gauzy skirt whipped about her legs. Raising an arm to shield her eyes, she could see in the middle distance, just before the shimmer of mirage, an intruder.

There had been few enough, lately, and this one seemed separating from their friends - little matter, she would attend to the others shortly.

She did not hurry - did not see the need, for the desert was vast and offered no places to hide. If her quarry ran, she would have been upon them shortly regardless.

But they did not run, indeed squared up in front of her as though they were anything for her to fear.

Igrene 10/10HP hits Nel 9/10 HP with Guardian Axe, Nel 6/10 HP Nel 6/10 HP counters with Electroshock Baton, Roll: 4 - 4 = 0,

But she is the Guardian of Nabata, and she has been protector of the land for as long as this world could remember. Her grip tightened on the haft of her axe, the extension of her arm and of her spirit, and she swung.

Igrene is no longer Brainwashed.

Warmth suffuses the battlefield. Once again Azelle is drawn into the familiarity of its embrace, a tragic moth falling for a flame's deception. He nudges his pegasus towards the light and ignores her initial resistance.

Light momentarily blinds him, moth wings now aflame. The heat now scorches instead of comforts. Faded burn scars ache under his tunic.

Azelle is inflicted with Brainwashed!

The light fades. Azelle blinks; why had he mounted a pegasus? No matter--they will finish off this invasion with all the might of House Velthomer.

(Arvis will be proud. Perhaps now Azelle can hold his head high, can finally wash away the stain of his half-blood lineage. Together, they will bring glory to the Lopto Church.)

One rogue Silessian stands in opposition. Heels gently kick the pegasus' flanks. She canters towards the poor, brave soul, wings ruffling. Azelle stares down his nose like his brother would, unimpressed with the sword aimed at his chest.

Fire sparks to life at his call. His blood sings, embers fall--

The lancer stands unscathed. Is this weakness on Azelle's part? He will decide later; for now, he urges his pegasus back, not fast enough to dodge the gleaming sword point. Fabric rips. Blood drips down his arm.

Azelle 6/10 HP recovers 2HP from Bond and Amaterasu. Azelle 8/10 HP. Azelle 8/10 HP attacks Dimitri 10/10HP with Ragnarok [Roll: 12 - 8 = 4, -0, Dimitri 10/10HP] Azelle is inflicted with Toxic Poison. Azelle 7/10 HP.

Dimitri 10/10HP counters with Wishblade [Constriction Roll: 2] [Roll: 5, -1, Azelle 6/10 HP]

Azelle is no longer Brainwashed.

Though her arms came to brace above her head, she did not take her eyes from their foe, even as the arena flashed, verdant and calm for the barest moment, a lulling murmur behind her eyes, the suggestion of wouldn't she rather rest, rather take a moment, wouldn't she rather be with her family.

She grit her teeth at the thought and her gaze flickered to Nel for a moment, to the young men, to Poe who had only recently been stuck in the clutches of this beast, writhing against her bonds, desperate to cry out for her companions - it did not matter where Igrene would rather be in the moment, nor with whom nor doing what.

Briefly, her fingers grazed against the haft of the axe at her back, and though the wind about her turned harsh, whipped dust about her cheeks and back, she felt a sense of calm, felt the ghost of warmth, a broad palm on her shoulder.

'One day, Igrene, I will be gone, and it will be you that stands tall against the desert winds.'

'Is that so, Father?'

Tucking the comfort of the bow into its harness at her back, Igrene unhooked one of the axes - her father's axe, the axe of the Guardian - and tested its weight in her hands briefly before gripping tight, and running at their foe.

Igrene 10/10HP barely hits Sunheart Chaser: Brod 18/18HP with Guardian Axe (Uncanny Blow.) [Roll: 12 - 5 = 7, -2, Sunheart Chaser: Brod 16/18HP] Sunheart Chaser: Brod 16/18HP counterattacks with Daylight Repose. Nullified by Rescue.

Still heavy in her hands, was it?

"My thanks!" she called to the dragon as she felt the tail wrap about her middle, yanking her from the shearing, radiating heat of their opponent's range of battle.

Igrene's fist tightened about the haft of the axe, and she fixed her eyes onthe behemoth, jaw set.

Can't he take a break, for just a moment? Rest and recover his strength? Just one moment....

Too late he realizes his mistake. Arm lowers in time for him to see renewed attacks against the rapidly reforming colossus. Of course it wouldn't be that easy; but this thing can be hurt.

Fingers tighten around the reins and he wheels the pegasus around, free hand outstretched. Once more magic rises at his call. Fire begins to rain down--only for it to scorch the earth instead of the giant.

Azelle 9/10HP hits Sunheart Chaser: Brod 16/18HP with Ragnarok [Roll: 8 - 8 =0, -0 HP

Sunheart Chaser: Brod 16/18 HP

Grip firm on her bow, Igrene drew back, loosed - "Release that girl!" she cried as her arrow found purchase in the strange appendage that had wrapped around her.

Igrene 7/10HP recovers 2HP from Bond and Amaterasu. Igrene 9/10HP Igrene 9/10HP hits Sunheart Chaser: Brod 10/18HP with Zanshin Bow (Uncanny Blow.) [Roll: 12 + 2 = 14, -3, Sunheart Chaser: Brod 7/18HP] Sunheart Chaser: Brod is stunned and unable to counterattack.

There was little else that she could do for the moment, though she sprinted across the way to the girl's side, a gentle hand on her arm. "Are you all right, child? Has it hurt you?"

Switching his lance for a lighter one, Dimitri felt lighter on his feet as he darted forwards. How hard could it be to hit a downed, unmoving target?

How the Prince wished he’d never had that thought. The closer he got, the hotter the air surrounding him became making him sweat with the excursion of his efforts. 

Roll: D20 Result: (6-4) = 2 Miss! Damage: -0HP [Sunheart Chaser Brod: 18/18HP]

As he danced into range and the tip of the lance was thrust towards Sunchaser Brod, the colossal giant seemed to come too enough to shift its gigantic form a little to the left and Dimitri’s lance hit the dirt instead. 

“Damn” Dimitri cursed under his breath. There wasn’t time for another attack and he didn’t want to risk being in range when the stun wore off. Determined that next time for sure he would finally land a hit on this accursed creature, Dimitri returned to the others.  

“I’m sorry everyone, my form is being affected by this heat I fear” A lousy excuse but the Prince didn’t wish to appear useless. “Perhaps not wiping it out this round might be to our benefit”

Dimitri healed 3HP [Dimitri: 10/10HP]

The dragon, hit by a blinding flash of light, does not loose her strength, retaliating with the full force of her anger. It's the archer who finally makes the creature release its hold, giving the lancer an opening. Azelle moves at the same time, spurring his mount on with renewed vigor.

[Azelle 7/10 HP recovers 2HP from Bond and Amaterasu. Azelle 9/10 HP.]

Worried for his newfound friend and determined to prove his worth, he again flies within a healthy distance of their enemy. Time freezes as he breathes, inhaling in time with his rising power. He exhales and releases a firestorm aimed right for the monster's chest.

Azelle 7/10HP hits Sunheart Chaser: Brod 7/18HP with Ragnarok at range [Roll: 15 - 7 = 8, -3.5, Sunheart Chaser: Brod 3.5/18HP] Sunheart Chaser: Brod is stunned and unable to counterattack. (Trample activates!) -2, Sunheart Chaser: Brod 1.5/18HP

It's enough to send their opponent stumbling back a step, and even high above the earth, Azelle feels the aftershocks of such a blow. "Keep it up, everyone!" He calls with a smile, nudging his pegasus closer to the dragon.

"I'm not much talented with healing," he begins, suddenly sheepish, "but it's the least I can do."

Azelle 7/10HP heals Nel 5/10 HP with Recover [Roll: 15, +6, Nel 10/10 HP]

She assessed her kit, for there was always something different between each battle, and this time was no different: she had a bow still, a comfort in her grip, solid and familiar by now, but as she glanced at the trappings she had been outfitted in she found them rather more scant than she was used to - looser, lighter, more freedom of movement but for the shining greaves on her legs.

Raising a hand out of instinct, her fingers wrapped about the pendant she always wore - keep it near her heart always, her father had told her, and she would find that he would be near - and she knew in an instant that the axes at her belt would be familiar to her as well, if perhaps a bit easier to lift now that she was grown.

Their opponent made itself known, but with some alarm they discovered that it had less revealed itself than it had always been there, for from where she stood it seemed that they were battling the sun, as furious and hot and high in the sky. Nel, now entirely dragon, attempted to strike at it directly, as did the young prince, but both found themselves overwhelmed by the visceral light of a true force of nature.

Not she.

Her fingers grazed the hilts of her axes - no, not hers, but perhaps soon she could claim them - before she plucked an arrow from her quiver, nocked, drew and released.

Igrene 5/10HP recovers 2HP from Bond and Amaterasu. Igrene 7/10HP Igrene 7/10HP hits Sunheart Chaser: Brod 18/18HP with Zanshin Bow [Roll: 7 + 2 = 9]; [2 + 1 = 3HP, Sunheart Chaser: Brod 15/18HP] Sunheart Chaser: Brod is unable to counter.

There was no need to aim, she thought wryly, for if it traveled up far enough, it would hit.

"Do not be frightened!" she called to her compatriots. Chastened by Nel after the last battle, she determined that she could not afford to get so caught up in her duty so as to fail it - she was not servant here, but comrade, and they all must do their part. "It is large, but under our might it will fall."

A shape breaks up the endless monotony of the horizon. He first believes it to be a mountain of some sort--and while he's technically not wrong, he reevaluates upon noticing the mountain has physical features.

While his allies cry encouragement, he assesses his own abilities, only now registering he's mounted atop a dark grey pegasus. One hand grips the reins in a sudden flare of anxiety. Flying can't be that much harder than riding. Hopefully. No weapons line his waist or a saddlebag. Hesitant at first, he calls for his magic, relieved to feel the familiar sparks flickering in response.

The blonde archer easily lets an arrow fly. An ant fighting an elephant--a good thing ants can be deceptively strong.

Heels kick into the pegasus' flank and he's airborne, the soft rustle of feathers carrying him to chest level with the colossus. Caution keeps him a healthy distance away. They have not yet seen this monster attack, as Nel said earlier. Best do what damage they can before it decides to retaliate.

Azelle 5/10HP recovers 2HP from Bond and Amaterasu. Igrene 7/10HP

Azelle 7/10HP misses Sunheart Chaser: Brod 1t/18HP with Ranged Ragnarok [Roll: 1 - 3 = -3]

Sunheart Chaser: Brod 15/18HP] Unable to counter!

His free arm extends, red sigils encircling the limb. He feels more than sees the giant's attention lock on to him. The pegasus must feel it too, for she tosses her head, wings already in motion as survival instincts outweigh war training. Yelping in shock, Azelle cuts off the spell, a few pathetic tongues of fire sizzling harmlessly in the air around him.

she does not spare a moment of silence for the fallen prince. he will rise again in this illusory arena. their role was to test the limits of their power against that of their opponents. an effective training method, albeit a brutal one.

but that, too, is not so foreign.

"azelle."

the dragon, folding her wings and coming to a landing beside the boy, hisses with slithered tongue — nel would have spared more time to be dismayed by the sudden forcing of her original form for the little ones to witness, but there is no time. ( in recent months, she is also coming to realize the secret's increasing futility; it appears dragons are not in shortage here, and most have not reacted to the presence of a fell one as she had imagined. )

the look couched in bead-like crimson states it plain: we are unlikely to prevail here. the illusory emblems are too strong. this is not a disparagement against their own strength as much as it is a useful fact about their adversary. with this knowledge, they could act accordingly. "of us, you are the one who stands to survive the longest. use this."

NEL ( 5.5/10 ) heals AZELLE ( 6.5/10 ) with RECOVER. ( 16 ) AZELLE recovers +6HP　→　AZELLE 10/10

healing light retreats with a similarly withdrawing arch of long neck and an unfurling of electric-blue wings. "i will buy you time. fight as you can, but save your strength."

NEL ( 5.5/10 ) hits SHEPHERD EXALT ( 13/15 ) with VALAURA. ( 21 ) SHEPHERD EXALT 11.5/15 , inflicted with TOXIC POISON. SHEPHERD EXALT is unable to counterattack. NEL TRAMPLES 　→　SHEPHERD EXALT 9.5/15.

a seismic blast of burning light spews from opened maw to draw their opponent's attention, detonating in a wide arc over emblem chrom's frame and rattling the ground beneath him in a shower of rock and debris. but the dust clears, and though the toxins of her fell breath, she can see he is still standing strong, the strike hardly denting his form. with a rattling, bone-like sound, she soars low, the weight and momentum of clawed wing and forked tail sending him sprawling off balance. but just as he rises again, nel senses the burgeoning response from emblem tiki before it even begins.

nascent ancestral power wells and rises in a fierce immolation as though to answer her, dragon to dragon.

"take cover—!"

THE ANCESTOR uses FLAME BREATH. ( 3 ) AZELLE 7/10 , inflicted with BURNING. ( 2 ) NEL 3.5/10 , inflicted with BURNING. ( 1 ) IGRENE 6/10. ( 1 ) POE 6/10.

an eruption of raging, caustic flames devours ground and sky, raining down in waves; pillars of pouring smoke obscure her from her allies and enemies alike. emblem tiki. it was so, that the power of a divine dragon would triumph over a fell one — even only as a facsimile tested for training purposes.

HOLY KNIGHT ( 15/15* ) critically hits NEL ( 3.5/10 ) with TYRFING. NEL 0/10 ,　Nel is defeated!

and through the flames gallops a white-mounted figure she does not recognize, the orange reflection off lifted steel closing in too soon before she can begin to move or call out to the others.

save your strength, little ones, she thinks again. steel bites and cleaves deep where the heart would be, to stop it in a lethal blow. who is this emblem, that he knows so well where to strike a dragon?

it is no shame to be bested here.

It is not the first time allies have dropped around him in the face of unbeatable odds.

A call of his name stirs him, whispered from between a dragon's jaws. He takes an involuntary step back while fighting the urge to raise his hands in defense. Why him? Why do they choose him as the one with the best odds? They wouldn't, if they knew his past. Knew he failed to stand up against the one person he should have stopped.

Wings unfurl and his world momentarily turns shades of blue. "Thank you," he replies hoarsely, energy once more returning along his limbs. The dragon rises to the air and beings her assault. Witnessing such a raw display of power is enough to inspire awe in anyone--hope, that cruel, fickle thing, sparks briefly in his chest before the embers are smothered with the dragon's frantic call.

Fire ignites in brilliant shades of red and gold. Tongues of flame land on him, merrily eating away at fabric and skin alike. His own element, once more turns against him, ignorant of the way his blood aches to control the inferno.

Arvis betraying them at Belhala. Fire called to consume, to burn, to clear away the last vestiges of his conscious.

Through the smoke, he makes out false-Sigurd bearing down on the dragon. Mouth opens to call a warning but he chokes on ashes, unable to make a sound.

Coward that he is, Azelle turns away, too heartsore to watch even a false version of his friend merciless strike down a helpless opponent.

[Shepherd Exalt 9.5/15 hits Azelle 7/10HP with Falchion [Roll: 1 + 8 = 9, -5, Azelle 2/10HP] Azelle is broken and unable to counterattack! Shepherd Exalt 9.5/15 follows up and hits Azelle 2/10HP with Falchion [Roll: 4 + 8 = 12, -5, Azelle 0/10HP]

The distraction costs him. A sword bites deep along his stomach and he cries out despite the rawness of his throat. Mage falls to the soot-stained floor, ignoring the fresh jolt of pain along his knees.

False-Chrom takes revenge for Azelle's earlier attacks, mighty sword now cleaving through old scar tissue in one final blow.

"Arvis....I'm sorry..."

Steeling himself, Dimitri tightened his grasp on his lance, ready to initiate an attack on his turn. At the signal from Poe, Dimitri stepped forwards. His intended target was the shadowy for of Chrom, confident that his lance could counter the sword grasped in the Shepherd's hands.

Calling on his experience duelling the actual Chrom, Dimitri brought his lance round swinging to attack twice. The two slashes forming a cross against the enemies's chest.

Roll:D20 Result: (11+6) = 17! Hit! Damage: (2+2) = -4HP [Shepherd Exalt: 11/15HP] Roll:D20 Result: (18+6) = 24! Hit! Damage: (2+2) = -4HP [Shepherd Exalt: 7/15HP]

As predicted, the Lion's lance was effective in slipping past the Falchion bearer's guard, not only pulling off a successful attack but leaving Chrom broken behind him, kneeling on the floor.

Returning to his team, Dimitri updated them on the situation. "I think Chrom-not-chrom is down for a moment" He told them "Should be safe to attack him again. Let's finish one of them off this round. Good luck out there!"

Shadowed enemies morph into vaguely familiar faces. It's an illusion, Azelle reminds himself, hefting the axe that had appeared in his hands. It's all an ill--

"Lord Sigurd?" Azelle breathes, eyes wide. Of every enemy they've faced, this is the first one Azelle thinks they can't defeat. He's seen Sigurd's strength firsthand--and though now that the shock has worn off he can tell it's merely a phantom--he has no doubt this version of Sigurd is quite capable in combat.

Azelle's allies don't share his same hesitations. Poe and the blonde lancer take aim at the blue-haired apparition first. Chrom, Dimitri calls him when he retreats from the immediate line of fire. Chrom falls to his knees, weapon useless in his grasp.

With an eye on Sigurd, Azelle seizes the opportunity provided by his teammates. Arms raise and he's surprised at how easily he can lift the axe. It comes swinging down with perhaps more force than necessary on a downed opponent, slicing diagonally across phantom-Chrom's chest.

[Roll: d20 Result: 19! Critical Hit! Damage: (5+3) = -8HP]

Emboldened by his newfound strength, Azelle risks another hit.

[Roll: d20 Result: 11! Hit! Damage: -3.5 HP]

The wooden handle slips in his grip this time, axehead merely glancing off Chrom's shoulder. Small victories are still victories!

[Shepard Exalt: 0/15* HP]