#divinetyrfing

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

@divinetyrfing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

continued from here.

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

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

Wise of him, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

another kiss prompt (accepting!)

     Between the two from House Chalphy, Andrei would have said Sigurd was the less obnoxious one. Being slightly farther apart in age, they'd never really interacted much in their youth, and Andrei's hand in the conspiracy was fueled purely by pragmatism, rather than any personal feelings about the matter.

     That didn't mean they weren't still enemies, even if born of little true animosity. And as ridiculous as it sounded, there were certain... expectations of behavior when it came to two people who had attempted to kill one another.

     Like not kissing each other for no reason, for example.

     But in this regard, it seemed Lord Chalphy was determined to break what Andrei had thought was a perfectly reasonable expectation. He twitched, suppressing a flinch as the other — for whatever logic he couldn't hope to grasp — moved in, planting a kiss on his cheek.