peerless beauty

The Curse of Providence

This woman talks too damn much.

   Letizia’s fingers twitch as she and L’Arachel make their way down to the Monastery’s gates, hands torn between covering her ears to muffle the shrill sound of L’Arachel’s voice or blasting her companion into a pile of soot. Aren’t those of the faith supposed to be quiet and serene? And the things she says…! It’s all so absurd Letizia wonders if the Church had made an error and sent her off with a jester from a distant land instead.

   Curse Director finds L’Arachel to be plenty violent as well, another oddity. She observes in silence as L’Arachel swings her staff around, motions more fitting for a mace. It whistles through the air, sometimes coming too close to Letizia for comfort, as she punctuates each imaginary blow with an unneeded sound effect. Gods, just how old is this girl? Had she been raised by a circus troupe? By the time the two of them reach the crowd amassed, Letizia thinks she has grinded her teeth down to nothing but dust.

   “For you?” Letizia exclaims, breaking her silence at last. Thickly-lined eyes widen in incredulity, half-shocked and half-awed. No one had ever had the gall to say such a thing to Letizia before — no one that was still alive, that is. “I don’t give a damn what backwater kingdom you happen to be the princess of, but I will not answer to a woman who so clearly belongs in a mental institution! For Embla’s sake, I am the Imperial Princess, and I demand to be treated as such — !”

   She squeezes her eyes shut. Her words would doubtlessly be wasted on this sorry excuse of a princess. Clearing her throat, she turns her attention to the crowd and this ‘ fake ’ Saint Seiros instead. Such a large group of people, so easily swayed… Letizia can catch glimpses of the mythical ‘ Saint Seiros ’ herself: a woman with a long blond plait dressed in flowing robes of white. On her arm, a dented shield with the Crest of Seiros crudely painted on it. Hah! Surely those so devoted to their Saint would have read her scripture, prayed under her statue? If this is Saint Seiros, then Letizia is Askr’s summoner. How could so many people be so stupid? Even Letizia knows more of the woman, of Fódlan and its faith, and she drifted here half-possessed by her own god.

   Letizia strides into the crowd, ignoring L’Arachel all together, back straight and head held high. Seiros is rallying her supporters, shouting at them to break down the gate to Garreg Mach so that she may be restored to her rightful place as head of her Church.

   “ENOUGH!” 

   Letizia’s shout quells the chatter instantly, like candlelight snuffed out by a strong wind. She feels the crowd swivel their gaze from their false prophet to her. Perfect. Rearranging her face into a furious scowl, she points at the broad.

   “My people, you have been lied to! Tricked! This woman has manipulated your love for your Saint. And for what? For your adoration, and for your gold no doubt. I cannot watch this spectacle any longer. She is not Saint Seiros; I am. Years I have slumbered in the Monastery, but the sins of this heretic has awoken me and my Four Saints from our slumber. We have come to open your eyes.” 

   Letizia turns her finger upon L’Arachel, now. “Look upon Saint Cethleann, who has come to heal your troubles! Hear me, my people! It is I, your Saint, here to rescue you from this false prophet’s dark machinations!”

“Hold! You said you were a princess? Well that changes everything-” But it’s too late, Letizia has already pushed past her, and likely didn’t hear L’Arachel’s quick change of heart. No matter. She’ll simply have to show her wildly different opinion on the woman. Through action, behavior--compassion! 

She barely gets the chance to catch up with the Curse Director before Letizia’s lies are already beginning to spew from her noxious mouth. L’Arachel is flabbergasted, blinks hard at the spectacle, and rushes to the other’s side. “Excuse me?!” she sharply whispers, turning a furrowed brow the other’s way, “We are no such people! I am L’Arachel; Beautiful Princess of Peerless Beauty! Have I not explained this to you?” 

Naivety subsides enough for her to realize that all eyes are on the pair. She goes red at all the sudden attention, and straightens out so as not to make a mess of things. “Ahem! Um, i-indeed! We come to act as your salvation--to do away with these fiendish imposters! Cast them aside like you would any scornful beast, and revere the beautiful figures of legend before you!”

The crowd, understandably, is in an uproar about this. Differing opinions fly through the lips of the commonfolk as weapons fly through the air. And everything is a weapon in a riot. L’Arachel has to duck under a stray cabbage that nearly knocks her out, proving that while there are those who support them in condemning the fakes, an equal number of bystanders think them the imposters. The clamor gives her a chance to turn to Letizia, and hypocritically lecture her:

“Just what do you think you’re doing?! This is hardly behavior befitting of a princess! Were you not taught right from wrong? Good from evil? We are to be warriors of truth, not deceit! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

But lying, as it were, has proven itself to be too fun to ignore. And necessary in this situation. Without missing a beat, L’Arachel spins back at the crowd, cupping a hand over her mouth as she shouts, “See for yourselves how she mocks our founder’s appearance! Her lustrous locks are but a ragged wig, dyed and styled in cheap imitation of a false image used to hide wondrous Seiros!” 

And sure as the sun will rise, the hair atop the head of ‘Seiros’ is proven to be fake. One of the many hands clawing at her pulls the wig off with minimal effort, revealing a short bob of black. 

Status: Passed

Skill Points Gained: 2

Activity Check > Any +1 > Allocated to faith +1

Arena Participation > Any +1 > Allocated to faith +1

Skill Changes:

Not So Fated A Meeting

If the girl before her is trying to be subtle, she is doing a miserable job.

It doesn’t help her case that she is eye-catching enough on her own. Eirika’s own gaze had been drawn to the other figure as soon as she had appeared in the hall. It is something about her air that demands attention, pleads silently to be perceived.

Her glance does not linger any longer than it takes for Eirika to form the opinion that this girl is quite lovely, but evidently that is all it takes. Olivine captures azure in only the briefest exchange, and Eirika’s cheeks twinge pink as she drops the other’s gaze. It is a sheepish kind of action–she feels as though she has been caught staring even despite the duration of the encounter.

And, she realizes with a shock of fear, this woman must think the same.

Eyes dart upward again to watch the other’s approach, lips parting to begin some sort of apology only to fall silent as the other puts on some strange sort of display. It’s something Eirika doesn’t recognize as performative, but rather just odd. Had she not offended the girl? Surely, it had felt that way, but-

Thud.

Green hair ducks to retrieve the book before Eirika can even try.

“It’s quite alright. Please, don’t worry yourself. My name is Eirika, I-”

But her answer falls to deaf ears. The other continues to prattle on, asking questions and then answering them for herself. It leaves quite the baffled expression on Eirika’s face, witnessing this one-sided conversation. L’arachel. Rausten. So she is of Magvel as well.

“-am the princess of Renais, yes.”

Gaze flits down toward the offered hand and for a second Eirika stills, brows knitting together. How strange–she has been trained to do just as such, but never to be upon the receiving end. A beat of confusion before, slowly, L’arachel’s fingers are brought to brush against Eirika’s lips in what is perhaps the most awkward attempt to mimic formality ever.

“…I suppose that is a noble goal.” Hands fall lamely back to her sides, no longer sure of their purpose. “I don’t think you need exclusively princesses for such a thing, though.”

“Aha! So you are a princess!” L’Arachel is ecstatic to not only hear this news from Eirika, but see it in action. Such grace! Such fidelity! She’s clearly one devoted to high-blooded customs, and for that she has L’Arachel’s undying respect. “And one from Magvel, no doubt! Not that I’ve ever been there myself.” 

L’Arachel winks, wholly convinced that her little slip up hadn’t outed herself.

“As expected, it seems my faithful intuition has proven itself yet again. The whims of fate reveal themselves only to a princess pure of heart, you know.” L’Arachel smirks now, allowing an overly confident pull of her lips to show just how proud of herself she really is. With this smirk comes the realization that Eirika had said something: something that contested her opinion. Marching to the beat of her own drum, the Rausten girl folds her arms and flicks her head away.

“And royalty though you may be, it seems common sense has escaped you. Everyone knows the natural bane of monsterkind is refined heritage. Justice and hope flow through our veins, Eirika!” L’Arachel leans in to deliver a light tap to Eirika’s nose, in an attempt to draw her attention, “Even if we allow others to partake in our righteous crusade, they’d only be serving as meat shields for the real punishers of evil.”

She walks as she talks, not to some destination or another, but merely around Eirika. Hands wave out in front of her and index fingers waggle as she makes her point, thinking she’s preaching something truly valuable. Of course, even a fool knows that all one needs to do to vanquish fiends is swing a weapon at them, but L’Arachel likes living in a fantasy where she’s inherently special. She stops her steps in front of Eirika, ending the last one with a firm clack! of her heel. Hands move to her hips for a brief second, before one points to Eirika’s hilt. “For your insolence, you are now required to prove yourself to me.”

Standing Here I Realize - Gold Round (Team 9)

A sense of finality threads through the latest transformation of the arena, and Chrom feels throughout his entire being that this is the last battle. One more hurdle to get through before they can finally obtain their objective. Even as their enemies rotate and reveal seven different opponents, four of them twisted copies of the rescue group, the bluenette feels a rush of relief at the realisation. It won’t be long now… we’re coming for you, everyone!

He’s dressed in a sleek outfit similar to that of a Chon'sin samurai, armour light and easy to manoeuvre in, and at his side sits a sheathed blade that looks like a cousin to the Killing Edge. White magic thrums at his fingertips, awaiting his command to be released. The teen witnesses Sigurd trouncing the eight-headed serpent and finds himself reminded of a Chon'sin folktale he’d heard about when he was small, of a similar creature who was tricked by a thunder god and slain, revealing a sword within. Though no such thing occurs after the apparition dissipates, Chrom can see all too easily how Sigurd fits the role of the heavenly warrior. Shaking his head, he brushes the thoughts aside; they have a battle to win, and Deirdre’s just attacked the enemy bride, giving him an opening to draw his sword and strike.

Roll Hagakure Blade: 15, 6. Hit and hit! Damage dealt: 12. Bride: 0/13 HP

Shadow Bride has been defeated!

Hagakure Blade damage dealt: 2. Chrom: 8/10 HP

With two strokes, the enemy bride disintegrates into dust before fading away. Chrom winces at the following stings that shoot through his entire body, coming from his sword, and looks down at the blade. “Uh, guys? I don’t think I can use my sword very often—it injured me just now when I used it to attack. I have one spell at my disposal, so I can still fight, but I should probably keep the melee combat to a minimum.”

@divinetyrfing @nagaficat or @ivalatona

//content warning: excessive blood, gore, trauma, angst, and mentions of death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ myrmidon a rolls to attack sigurd, -4, miss! ] [ sigurd rolls to counter, 3 damage, 4/19 hp remaining ] [ darting blow activates! myrmidon a rolls to attack sigurd, 10, 0 damage ; seal strength activates ]

sigurd blocks the length of the poisoned blade with his own sword with a quiet wince. there’s a bit of adrenaline involved and he can’t help but grin in amusement even despite the sudden sluggishness that fights to take ahold of him. the knight whips his sword out, taking the chance to fight back while the myrmidon is still so close to him. one slash across the chest but sigurd doesn’t stop there.

[ sigurd rolls to attack myrmidon a, 17, 1 damage, 3/19 hp remaining ] [ myrmidon a rolls to counter, -1, miss! ]

he plunges his sword into the myrmidon’s chest this time and tugs it right back out. the myrmidon attempts to fight back rather pitifully, for sigurd easily dodges out of the way with a fancy step and a twirl. he was kind of starting to like how this felt.

NEXT: @ivalatona

“Fine--I’m fine! Your assistance is greatly appreciated, but I can assure you I’ll handle my own!” answers L’Arachel, but the look on her face tells a different story. Rage. It’s unbridled with a steaming kind of rage. The myrmidon had sneakily worn her out with its irksome combat, and for that they would pay.

L’Arachel uses Brave Sword! Roll 2D20+4 = 19 and 7, crit and hit! | Myrmidon A HP = 0/19

With strength gathered from her short break, she flies toward them like a bullet, stopping at nothing as she unleashes her wrath upon the enemy. “This is for fighting with a foul style!”

That bullet then runs through its target--extending an arm in her flight to cut the enemy’s head clean off as she whizzes past them. The head dissolves into thin air, but not before L’Arachel has already turned around for another attack. Killing her enemy isn’t enough at this point: she has to make her point. 

A second strike is delivered in the form of this sort of punch with the crossguard of the sword, which sends the dying and disintegrating enemy flying onto the ground to really spell out how much she intends to make them suffer. “And that was for humiliating me like you did! Did you honestly think that you, a lowly cad, could hope to delay the destruction of all monsterkind? My last attacks against that... thing, over there,” she vaguely gestures to the Prophet, “Were merely a warning shot. They were given the chance to back down and receive my mercy, but they’ve clearly not taken it! Now their enemy is justice herself!”

All’s well that ends well with L’Arachel. Not only has she gotten square with that troublesome sword-wielder, but she’s taken out an important nuisance to the enemy team. The only thing left for her to do is focus her attention on the Prophet, who, as she challengingly points her blade to, seems to be murmuring some sort of prayer...

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

Deirdre’s tomes and staves all disappear leaving her with nothing but a lyre. She has no idea how she might even use such an instrument under normal circumstances, let alone a battle! Yet that combined with the billowy, low cut shirt and jaunty feathered cap is enough to tell her she is to play the part of the bard next to Sigurd’s dancer.

She wishes she had a mirror. Does she look as ridiculous as her beloved does as he jingles about? At least Chrom’s armor suits him and L'Arachel looks majestic atop her flying steed!

Curiously, she plucks a few strings on her instrument. Oh! Her training as a shaman allows her to immediately notice the flow of magic as they vibrate. This is how she can focus her spells!

“Allow me to tend to your wounds, everyone!” Deirdre does not know how to play but she plucks at strings until she finds a pattern that sounds pleasing enough. As she repeats more confidently each time, her music fills the air and so does her faith magic. She can even feel her own wounds closing as well.

Deirdre Fortify @ Everyone [ Roll: 7, +4HP ; Live To Serve Proc ; Deirdre 10/10HP, Sigurd 10/10HP, Chrom 10/10Hp, L’Arachel 8.5/10HP ]

@ivalatona

The healing glow from Deirdre’s spell does away with the bruises and cuts from last battle, leaving her in a much healthier state. “Many thanks, o ally of justice,” she inhales as she’s restored, enjoying the peace of white magic--if only for a moment. The enemy myrmidon--the one that’s still alive, that is--seeks to take advantage of her in this brief state of tranquility. She whips around to see an assault being launched her way, and pulls the reins on her mount.

Myrmidon A uses Venin Edge! Roll 1D20-12 = 1, miss! | L’Arachel HP = 8.5/10

The pegasus responds well to her signal, jerking out of harm’s way to avoid the venom-laced blade carried by the enemy. L’Arachel huffs at their attempt, swooping down to deliver two crescent-shaped slashes across their shoulders and chest.

L’Arachel uses Brave Sword! Roll 2D20+2 = 11 and 6, hit and hit! | Myrmidon A HP = 13/19

Myrmidon A follows up with Venin Edge! Roll 1D20-12 = -7, miss! | L’Arachel HP = 8.5/10

L’Arachel suffers from Steal Strength! -2 strength until R2E

Each dexterous swing hacks into the enemy’s spiritual flesh, while their noxious sword fails to meet L’Arachel once more. She proves to be adept at aerial maneuvers, dancing round the myrmidon to get an in against at its boss. This is her way of telling them that she believes her time too valuable to be spent with the likes of them.

“False idol!” She decrees, soaring in for the kill, “What right have you to be dressed in such ceremonious garb? My saber will strip it from your profane body!” 

L’Arachel uses Brave Sword! Roll 2D20 = 20 and 16, hit and hit! | Prophet HP = 38/38

Prophet uses Scrying Staff! Roll 1D20-17 = -15, miss! | L’Arachel HP = 8.5/10

L’Arachel follows up with Brave Sword! Roll 2D20 = 18 and 6, hit and hit! | Prophet HP = 38/38

But her sword does no such thing. It merely bounces off the larger foe’s sturdy equipment--first blocked by shield, then by staff. She looks down at her arm in disbelief, thinking it impossible that an attack of hers could be ineffective! But the prophet does not wait for her to reach any sort of conclusion, and threatens to whack her with their staff (ironically enough). A kick of her mount’s stirrups, and she ascends to avoid it. When she attempts to crash on down from her vantage point above, she can finally feel why her attacks are ineffective: she is fatigued. L’Arachel had pulled her mount around and swung her blade too rapidly in too short a period of time. Her muscles had been screaming for rest, but as she charged for the boss, she gave them no such thing. 

As that tiredness spreads to the rest of her body, she pulls away. She’d roost with her pegasus to regrow her strength, and strike back with indignation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

attacka you with a stick — team 9 [steel round]​

to be supported once again by his wife in the heat of battle brings him an overwhelming amount of joy. a boyish smile makes its way to his face as he feels that faith of hers heal the wounds on his body, even despite the chaos of the battlefield. it clears his mind enough for him to approach the beast they face with renewed focus.

[ sigurd rolls to attack stalmandra 4 times, 16, 9, 4,1 ; pavise activates twice, 5 damage, 15.5/75 hp remaining ]

magic begins to swirl in his hands— an entirely unfamiliar feeling that somehow doesn’t manage to throw him off. instead, he takes advantage of this power apparently given to him. “i will see it done, my love!” he calls out to her  as he strikes the beast hard with one fist. furthmore he is spurred on by the bad state l'arachel is in, by the way he feels the need to protect his allies. he doesn’t stop at one fist; going further with another three hits— the last of which he misses thanks to the fatigue setting into his body.

[ darting blow activate! sigurd rolls to attack stalmandra 4 times, 15, 9, 4, 1, pavise activates once, 7.5 damage, 8.5/75 hp remaining ]

but the gods were hilarious if they thought sigurd would simply give up just like that. though the magic dissapates from his hands he continues his onslaught. deirdre was counting on him and he needed to protect his allies from further damage.

NEXT: @ivalatona

“Ah, you valiantly support my crusade of justice!” Is how she thanks Chrom for the support he lent, turning a beaming face filled with inflated ego his way. In her mind, being restored by her allies is a sign that she’s useful--heroic, even. 

She giggles from her chest, fueling herself with the confidence necessary to dive back in for another scrap. On she runs, holding her arms up to prep a pair of finishing blows. The beast rears up in defense, ready to intercept with the bulkier parts of its body, but when she finally swings...

Her Aura Knuckle flies through empty air, making contact with no solid object. It seems the Projectionist has already deemed the team worthy, and is in the process of revamping the arena for their next battle. The Stalmandra is gone before L’Arachel can hit it, and in its place would be a new set of foes...

She can't not scoop up the little creature that brushes against her leg. It would be criminal, really, so Eirika scoops up the orange furred cat with a little giggle. "L'arachel, look!" Blue head turns to the other, presenting her new friend with a warm smile. "Isn't he precious?"

//via academy life

To say she squeals is a tragic understatement. L'Arachel is beside herself with excitement at the mere sight of the kitten, and nearly melts away when she extends a hand to pet it.

"'Precious' does little to describe how adorable he is!" As her fingers softly scratch the tuft of fur on its head, their new feline friend begins to purr and wrap its arms round her wrist. "Ah! Eirika, look! I think he likes me!"

L'Arachel is beaming now. She adds her other hand to rub the tummy of the cat, leaning in closer and humming to herself as she enjoys its presence. The cat, delighted from being given so much attention, mewls and draws closer to affectionately lick her arm. "A cute critter deserves a cute name, and I believe I've come up with just the thing:

Rennac!

Isn't it fitting? Little Rennac is the perfect name for a pet cat."

Rennac (hereby referred to as Rennac Jr. so as not to cause confusion) happily meows at his name, seemingly confirming that it's a fitting one.

"I'm not a child, L'arachel." He huffed in protest, shooting an accusatory glance her way. She held one book between them, and offered to read to him some of her favorite literature. Yes, he did not enjoy idle reading but he certainly didn't need to be read to. "I'm not interested in these things anyway... "

//via academy life

"Nonsense!" She protests, tilting her snoot up to push the book further into Ephraim's chest, "Child or not, it's important for all to be familiar with the awe-inspiring tale, Sailor Sun: The Sacred Golden Stone." She lets go of the book, leaving it in his hands to tell him he simply cannot refuse her. The lime-haired then whips around and begins to scold the solar twin, matching his accusatory glance with a doubly accusatory tone.

"If you wish to one day mold yourself into a man of fine stature, then you ought to be familiar with sophisticated literature."

Without missing a beat, L'Arachel turns on her heel and begins to walk off to the reception desk--expecting Ephraim to follow along. This is her way of saying he would sign it out with the librarian and read it with her posthaste: yet another notion that is not left up to debate.

attacka you with a stick — team 9 [steel round]

Stalmandra’s attack is so mighty that, even though it aims for L’Arachel, the molten rocks hit everyone.  Deirdre winces with the pain but keeps herself steady.  It is not the only one capable of such destruction and she will match its fury.

First she aims her physic staff toward her beloved.  L’Arachel may have eased his pain but his wife knows quite well by now how to tell if he is trying to put on a brave face and hide the severity of his injuries.  “My love,” her voice is soothing even while projecting across the battlefield and over the roars of a monster, “you must stay strong for me!”

Deirdre Physic @ Sigurd [ Roll: 18, +4HP, 10/10HP left ]

When she is satisfied that her healing has done its job, Deirdre returns to her tome.  Stalmandra may create molten rock from the ground beneath them, but she sends it raining down upon the beast.  

Deirdre Meteor @ Stalmandra [ Roll: 5, 2 damage, 41/75HP left ]

@ylisseanstar

The creature is not done picking its fight with L’Arachel--or perhaps her taunting registers to it--for it charges at her once more. It opens this next bout with a quick claw swipe, testing her mettle and trying to open her defenses.

Stalmandra uses Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20 = 5, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 6/10

The hit is checked in stride, and followed up by a punch from the princess. Stalmandra does not take this lying down, and thus another melee ensues:

L’Arachel uses Aura Knuckles! Roll 1D20-3 = 6, hit! | Stalmandra HP = 40/75

Stalmandra follows up with Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20 = 1, miss! | L’Arachel HP = 6/10

L’Arachel suffers from Trample! -1 HP | L’Arachel HP = 5/10

L’Arachel uses Aura Knuckles! Roll 2D20 = 20 and 5, crit and hit! | Stalmandra HP = 36/75

Stalmandra uses Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20+3 = 19, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 4.5/10

L’Arachel suffers from Trample! -1 HP | L’Arachel HP = 3.5/10

By now the give-and-take war between monster and human is standard of this fight. Blows are traded, ducked, blocked, and eaten--contributing to a bloody battle of fist versus claw. Her breath is ragged, body beaten and bruised, by the end of it all, but what matters is that so is L’Arachel’s foe. She manages to get a crossing chop onto the amphibian’s eye, surging her forward to come out on top in the second round.

“Once more, I stand in the face of your tyrannical evil, cad! Strike me all you wish: I shall only strike back with the fury of the divine!”

attacka you with a stick — team 9 [steel round]​

the sight of meteors from deirdre’s hand makes him pause for only a small moment, for she even wield her tomes and says the same thing that arvis has had. if not for the closure he’d gotten with arvis and deirdre perhaps he would remain more frightened, but as he sees it now he has no reason to be scared.

chrom, bless his heart, checks in on him to see if he’s okay. sigurd can tell with a great ease that he must be talking about the meteors, to which he smiles in exasperation and shakes his head. “don’t worry about me. focus on the battle at hand.” he chides lightly before getting ready to unleash yet another barrage of punches upon the beast they face. “i’ll see how much i can whittle it down!” he calls out to chrom as well as the others just as he runs off towards the larger beast still left to fight.

[ sigurd rolls to attack stalmandra 4 times, 16, 9, 4,1 ; pavise activates twice, 5 damage, 53.5/7 hp remaining ]

[ stalmandra rolls to counter,  20, crit! 3 + 1 trample damage, 6/10 hp left ]

most of his hits connect, but the salamander bats its tail at sigurd before his last punch connects,  the knight thrown to the ground with a grimace and being stepped on. sigurd lets out a cry of pain that he tries to stifle to not worry his teammates before grappling with the beast’s foot just well enough to get himself out of there.

[ darting blow activate! sigurd rolls to attack stalmandra 4 times, 15, 9, 4, 1, pavise activates once, 7.5 damage, 46/75 hp left ]

“i’m not done yet!” sigurd says aloud to motivate himself despite how tired he feels, once again releasing a few more punches on the beast. his last does not quite connect but somehow the first three feel much stronger this time around. with previous experience he he sees the tail incoming and dodges out of the way, backing away from the beast with a breathy huff to let himself regain some of his energy.

NEXT: @ivalatona​ 

The hulking monster of an enemy roars with anger, its body spewing out hot flames as it charges for a powerful attack. The scream is deafening in its volume, forcing our princess of justice to crouch down and cover her ears lest it blow out her eardrums. Heat radiates from the globs of fire flickering off its skin--forcing sweat onto the bodies of its enemies. The loss of its beloved minion and severe damage dealt to its face have each been enough to send it into a frenzy. Unfortunately for L’Arachel, she would be the target of its wrath.

Stalmandra uses Tectonics! Roll 1D20 = 9, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 6.5/10

With a mighty stomp, the arena floor beneath her begins to crack and split away--revealing that they had all been fighting over a pool of superheated lava. Another roar from the beast, and not only has L’Arachel fallen over, but molten rock shoots up from beneath her--scalding her body and spraying out onto her allies. She winces, gasps, and otherwise struggles in pain, but the heat does not discriminate: it only burns. She has to jump away from the pit and roll to put out the growing ember on her body, but doing so gives the Stalmandra an opportunity to strike again. 

Stalmandra uses Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20 = 14, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 6/10 L’Arachel suffers from Trample! -1 HP | L’Arachel HP = 5/10

She is first hit with a powerful jab (which her shield manages to mitigate once more) and then a forceful stomp--creating a combo that yields an awful scream from her lungs. 

But the legend of L’Arachel is far from over.

No matter what kind of beating she takes, her spirit won’t break. Right now she’s like a red-hot piece of iron; the more she’s hit, the tougher she gets. She holds up her Ochain Shield to absorb some of its power, and the instant she does, Chrom’s healing makes its way across the field. 

L’Arachel heals from Ochain Shield and Physic! + 1 HP and +2 HP | L’Arachel HP = 8/10

“You have my thanks,” the lime-haired briefly replies, before holding firm and striking the foul creature. This is her first fight with a physical weapon, but something tingly inside her drives the woman forward. An onlooker might mistake it for madness, but L’Arachel would much prefer the term ‘righteousness’.

L’Arachel uses Aura Knuckles! Roll 1D20-3 = 5, hit! Pavise activates, and Stalmandra loses -1 HP

The swing connects, but is deftly blocked by the monster. One hit is never enough, so she swerves to its open side to deliver two more quick jabs.

L’Arachel uses Aura Knuckles! Roll 2D20 = 4 and 1, hit and hit! Pavise activates x2 | Stalmandra HP = 44/75

Once again, the giant salamander is able to raise its arm and shoulder most of the impact. It keeps up the slugfest by throwing another two hits at the Rausten girl, showing her it means business.

Stalmandra uses Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20+3 = 9, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 7.5/10

L’Arachel suffers from Trample! -1 HP | L’Arachel HP = 6.5/10

“Will that be all?” she taunts, smirking behind the pair of fists pulled up to her face, “You horrid creatures never learn, do you? A measly rumble like that will never break the defense of one blessed by light and hope.”

Now that the worst is over, she can face Sigurd and cast a long-ranged heal on him. She must be out of breath, because it doesn’t end up doing much, but it’s better than nothing.

L’Arachel uses Physic! Roll 1D20 = 1, +1 HP | Sigurd HP = 7/10

“Receive my aid! You shall not fall as long as I draw breath on this day!”

attacka you with a stick — team 9 [steel round]

Deirdre is used to the strange wardrobe change and weapon swap at the beginning of each round by now. It had been kind of fun changing from a dark mage into a pegasus knight. But this time, she looks down at what she is wearing in shock. A bright blush spreads across her entire face and down her neck all the way through her chest. This is hardly an outfit at all! She is barely covered and the entire ensemble is decorated with heavy chains. She feels quite foolish and embarrassed and tries in vain to cover herself. Deirdre cannot imagine it is very empress like for poor Chrom and L'Arachel to see her in such a state of undress.

At least she has been gifted a familiar tome.

She turns to Sigurd, eyes full of unspoken apologies, before she begins to cast. He is quite familiar with the Meteor spell as well.

Deirdre casts Meteor on the big one. Roll: 12. 2.5 damage to big boy. 1.25 aoe damage to lil guy. No counter attack.

She pictures Arvis as she opens the tome and imagines how he would cast the preferred spell of the famed Roten Ritter. In as authoritative a voice as she can muster, Deirdre commands, “hell fire upon you!” before meteors materialize and rain down on their foes.

@ivalatona

L’Arachel grins to herself as she ascends to the next round. During the brief period of time when all her spells and weapons are generating, she’s giddy with anticipation. What will she get this time? The mighty Aura? The legendary Ivaldi? Oh the possibilities are just endless! She can hardly wait.

But when the time comes, she falls silent. Silence is dangerous from L’Arachel--it either means she’s upset, or planning something.

And the smirk resting on her lips suggests the latter. 

She watches her allies make short work of the amphibian’s champion minion, and holds her Aura Knuckles close to her chest. Perfect. With the underling clear, she’s free to target the big bad. This would be her moment, her time to shine.

L’Arachel uses Monster Crusher! Roll 2D20 = 11 and 7, hit and hit! | Stalmandra HP = 60.5/75

“Die, wretch!” She shouts, storming the monstrous foe to deliver a wicked left hook to its face. Surprisingly enough, it recoils from the hit, fearing whatever anti-monster technique she strikes it with. But that wouldn’t be the end of it, oh no. A second punch--and uppercut across the chin--knocks Stalmandra back. This time she goads its rage, yelling “Fall, fiend! With these fists of holy fury, I shall beat you senseless! No monster in any land will be spared the purging judgement of L’Arachel!”

The salamander, seeing an opportunity, headbutts her after she finishes her line. But L’Arachel’s wit is quicker than that, for she holds up her trusty Ochain Shield to block most of the blow.

Stalmandra uses Basalt Claws! Roll 1D20+3 = 19, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 9.5/10

The force of its great body is enough to cause slight harm to L’Arachel, but nothing she’d bat an eye at. What she would feel, however, is the weight of its colossal footsteps as it breaks past her.

L’Arachel suffers from Trample! -1 HP | L’Arachel HP = 8.5/10

She grunts with pain, but holds fast in her resolve. Even this is far from enough to keep her out of the fight.

“Oh how I’ve longed for the day I could finally slay a real monster! My beloved allies: hear my rallying call! We shall band together and send this abomination back to whatever nether pit it crawled from!”

“Some of these swords are in such disrepair, surely a military academy would strive to do better.”

//via academy life

"Indeed it would! Though I suppose teaching courtesy to the boorish is oft easier said than done."

L'Arachel huffs as she converses, carefully sliding a gilded blade across a grindstone. When she looks over at the pile of weapons they still had yet to get around to, she throws in a shake of her head. Though she had only recently arrived at the academy, she's quickly coming to realize it is not up to her prim and proper expectations.

"It takes the most dignified of princesses to show decent mannerisms to these weapons, and for that I truly am saddened."

Her foot then leaves the pedal of the stone, causing it to stop spinning. When it does, she holds the sword in front of her face--examining it with an air of superiority.

"There! We've only just gotten started, but this is already my fifth successful repair. I work rather quickly for someone studying the divine arts."

But if Jakob looks closely, he'll be able to spot the shoddiness of L'Arachel's craftsmanship. The sword has not only been sharpened on but a single side, but at the wrong angle too! Its edge has been made obtuse and nearly useless by her efforts.

Wielding Fate As a Weapon - Iron Round (Team 9)​​​

[Blessed Bow, Prayer Ring: +2HP] Archer B @ Deirdre [ Roll: 17 - 4, 2.5 damage, 7.5/10HP left ] No counterattack, Bow Range

The archer understands its advantage and aims directly toward Deirdre.  The arrow zips through the air and hits her, threatening to knock her off balance.  She acts quickly and manages to stay on her mount but the piercing wound from the arrow stings.

Her teammates all work together to defeat the archer.  They work together to protect her from anymore deadly arrows and Deirdre looks over her shoulder to smile at each of them.  It means so much to her to know they have prioritized her safety like this!

“Thank you!  Oh, thank you everyone!  You will not need to fear this mage for much longer.”

[Blessed Lance, Prayer Ring: +2HP] Deirdre Blessed Lance @ Dark Mage B [ Roll: 14, 2 Damage, 0/8HP Left ]

Deirdre urges her pegasus forward toward the dark mage.  She is quite glad she has been training with lances lately as she is able to drive hers into her foe with enough strength that they dissipate.  

This time the armored knight closes in on Deirdre.  Two blessed lances clash in their scuffle but the armor protects the projection from any damage Deirdre might have dealt while she remains defenseless.  Their lance pierces her in the side and she cries out in pain.  

@ivalatona​

It seems the enemy priest did not take L’Arachel’s threat to heart, for they conjure up a second toke of their Seraphim spell to send her way.

Priest A uses Seraphim! Roll 1D20-4 = 14, hit! | L’Arachel HP = 7/10

Thinking they wouldn’t be so foolish as to try her again, the lime-haired turns her attention to the other phantoms as they fight her allies, looking for a way to jump into the action. When the blessed flames from the priest collide with and singe her body, however, she snaps back to them, “Do you have a death wish, or are you perhaps a simple fool? I told you once not to make an enemy of a diviner more powerful than you, so now I shall teach you why that is such a bad idea!”

L’Arachel uses Banshee! Roll 1D20+2 = 22, crit! | Priest A HP = 0.5/8

She spins round on her heel and snaps her fingers at the figure, wreathing them with the horrid effects of her Banshee tome for the second time. On this attack, however, she decides to double down on the effort--producing a second cast of the spell to spawn another golden wheel above their head. Together with the one at their feet, it showers the miser in righteous bolts--eviscerating their ethereal form.

When the show is over, though, they still stand. But L’Arachel does not look upset by this. On her face rests a confident smirk, for she knows what comes next. A turn of her head tells the priest she’s done here, and her silence comes off more terrifying than words.

Priest A suffers from Poison Strike! | Priest A HP = 0/8

They collapse, as all things eventually do, and return to the cycle. The profaned body of a ghoul is bound to be poisoned from one of L’Arachel’s spells, as her magic embodies only the purest forms of justice and piety. With the third wretch out of the way, she sets her sights on the last: The armored knight.

“Commendable work, all of you! It seems that under my divine guidance you are able to fight well. Oh, it must be providence that we met like this! Now allow me, L’Arachel, to lead the charge on our final foe. To victory, my shimmering brigade!”

L’Arachel uses Banshee! Roll 1D20+6 = 21, hit! | Armor Knight HP = 6/8

Armor Knight A suffers from Poison Strike! | Armor Knight A HP = 5/8

Wielding Fate As a Weapon - Iron Round (Team 9)

L'Arachel rages about dark magic and Deirdre looks away. Would the priestess think less of her if she knew how easily spells of that nature came to her? But now is not the time to worry about that. They are allies here.

Sigurd calls to his wife and she feels the comforting warmth of his faith magic surrounding her and healing her wounds. She would chide him for worrying too much but he is right. Atop a pegasus, she will need to worry about archers in a way she has not before. Deirdre reaches for his hand and reassures him, “Thank you, my lord. With you here to keep me safe, I know I will be fine!”

Chrom worries for her too and she smiles. He truly does remind her of Sigurd. It is sweet. The world could use more men like that.

Even though she has never flown on a pegasus before, this one quickly takes to Deirdre’s command. She follows L'Arachel’s lead and flies toward the dark mage. Blessed lance in hand, she strikes and pierces her target. The mage cannot counter and Deirdre takes the opportunity to sneak in one more attack. The phantom dissipates and Deirdre quickly retreats back toward Sigurd for safety.

Blessed lance at Dark Mage B: roll: 9, 2 damage

Dark Mage B has Banshee effect: no counter

Darting Blow attack: roll: 3, miss

Dark Mage B HP = 1.5/8

Prayer ring and Blessed Lance heal Deirdre for 2 HP

@ivalatona

Laughter spills from her breast as L’Arachel watches the haunted sorcerer get torn to pieces. If anything, it helps alleviate some of the stress caused by the unfortunate hand she’s been dealt this round. As she becomes beside herself with delight while watching their destruction, the enemy priest sneaks in an attack of their own.

Priest A uses Seraphim! Roll 1D20-4 = 3, miss! | L’Arachel HP =  9/10

An angelic spell--similar to L’Arachel’s modified Banshee--spreads its wings and assaults the Rausten girl. With nimble ease, she dances out of harms way, and turns a defiant tone to the ghost, “Ah! I’m a princess of light! How can you hope to best me with my own magic? What a grand and intoxicating innocence!” 

L’Arachel counters with Banshee! Roll 1D20+2 = 21, hit! | Priest A HP = 6/8

Priest A suffers from Poison Strike! | Priest A HP = 5/8

The spell is cast, same as before, but unlike with the dark mage, the priest manages to dispel the leftover eye-covered wheel. They refuse to be bound in place, much to L’Arachel’s dissatisfaction. 

A quaint huff escapes her. Fine. If they won’t sit still, maybe someone else will.

L’Arachel uses Banshee! Roll 1D20+6 = 26, crit! | Archer B HP = 4/8

Archer B suffers from Poison Strike! | Archer B HP = 3/8

This time she decides to lay siege to the enemy archer. Looking at them and then back at Deirdre’s pegasus reveals an obvious weakness in the heroes’ current team, and L’Arachel isn’t about to find out what would happen if the enemy decided to exploit that. 

“There! This one looks like they’ll stay put... Though they sure do seem to be wiggling...” Her words ring true, as the archer puts up a fight against their shackles, “No matter! We shall deal with them posthaste, lest they make target practice of our winged companion.”