#estians

Spring too, is banished from their sight. Such is the way of nature; no one season can last forever.

Industrialization sprouts from the ground. Metallic tiles begin to cover up lush grass and trample over flowers, paving endless streets with their slick cover. Every tree is replaced by a skyscraper, each a thousand times thicker and infinitely tall. Signs begin to advertise products and technologies none from Fodlan would even understand, their holographic light a dazzling contrast to the rustic setting they’re used to. Vehicles that hover just above the ground begin to decorate the scene, with holographic street lights mimicking the billboards high above. Together they paint a picture of busyness. The world is transformed into something incomprehensible; machines have come to transform Eden.

It is raining, but that seems to have little impact here. 

Sirius’ mouth is left ajar when his new arena unfolds before him. His robes and magic bow have been traded for the garb of a warrior and a pair of weapons, intimidating as they are ominous. He takes a moment to gaze up at the sky--noticing how it is now a pale gray--before examining his equipment. Though not visible underneath his stygian gauntlets, a ring wraps round his finger. It feels warm, much like the warmth he shared in the tundra. 

This melancholy silence, however, is broken by the approach of their enemy. A gigantic creature of metallic flesh clings to one of the buildings before him. Multiple limbs crush the glass and concrete of a skyscraper to keep it suspended, seemingly uncaring of the damage they cause to their surroundings. It lets loose its robotic cry: a deafening shockwave no man or beast could possibly reproduce on its own. It has his attention. 

But before Sirius can rush in to attack, its spare limb smashes the ground in front of him. A door on the machine slides open, and from it emerge three smaller entities. They immediately scatter, seeking to terrorize the landscape with shrapnel fire and weighted chops. The main beast roars again, and the cores of all three scouts light up in response. A similarly-colored light cloaks the bigger bot, and it becomes clear to Sirius that they are protecting it. 

This land is not his to call home; this is not his battle to fight. But Sirius cannot stand idly by while four great terrors put countless lives in danger.

He makes for the first scout. It is an easy task, given how preoccupied it is with wreaking aimless havoc. Black energies surround his fist as he closes in, and...

Sirius uses Devil Gauntlets! Roll 1d20 = 10, hit! -2.5 HP; Radio Scout: Bulwark A 7.5/10 HP

Black Ice Node activates! Roll 1d3 = 1, Radio Scout: Bulwark A is deactivated!

The light fades. His fist slams into its hard body, knocking it flat on the ground with a single punch. What’s left is a soulless husk, no better than a large tin can thrown on by the wayside. It is not destroyed, for when Sirius hits it again, no further damage can be done, but the main foe roars again and its protective coat flickers. That’s his sign that progress has been made--that something similar must be done to each smaller enemy. 

Devil Gauntlets activate! Roll 1d10 = 10, -10 HP! Miracle activates! Sirius 0.5/10 HP

As he turns for the other two, tragedy strikes. His gauntlets demonstrate to Sirius that all power comes at a cost. The same black energy that amplified his hit against the monster assaults his arms. It causes him to gasp out in pain, dropping to his knees when the searing spreads to his chest. For a moment, it appears as though this power would take him, but then he feels it: the ring. From beneath his cursed weapons it breaks, and he is spared further harm. The warm healing still ebbs throughout his body, but as he stands, he fears whatever divine force kept him alive would not be inclined to do so again. 

Sure as the sun will rise, the slaughter will continue. 

Arena starter for @diadic, @gradible, & @estians

Another dream. The last one was still fresh. The knight, the shifting landscapes, the blood that would not spill, the same starting place again and again and again. That one had been the product of an enchanted book, they said. This one, as far as Jeritza could tell, had sprung from the darkness of his own mind: a winter tundra as far as the eye could see. Glacial mountains made shadows against the night sky like giant spectators, screaming with the wind that blew from the north.

There were others with him this time. He glanced left and right, assessing whether they were friend or foe and finding that their visages fit holes in his vague memory. Two he knew were students. Nonthreatening. The third was a stranger, and wearing a mask like he did around the monastery. Had Jeritza been concerned with the secrets one kept, he might have suspected the other man of treachery from the start, but the bow he carried was not pointed at him, nor the students.

A roar suddenly shook the mountains all around them and pulled Jeritza’s attention to the northernmost line. The winds had begun to pick up, sending flurries of light snow skimming the flat, frozen earth. Through it padded a four-legged beast, neither wolf nor cougar nor any other animal Jeritza had met in waking life. Water seemed to stream from it, flowing into a crown of ice and hardening in patches along its vulnerable spots like armor. Lowering his stance, gloved fingers tightening around the hilt of the thin, blood-red rapier in his hand, he watched and waited. Then the creature thundered off at lightning speed, its massive claws hardly seeming to touch the ice underneath. It took everything Jeritza had simply to keep it in his line of sight.

As another howl shook the mountains, the beast skidded to a stop some distance away and the water that flowed from it began to cascade in waves across the tundra. 

Aurora Beast uses Surging Waves! Gains +8 avoid for next round Jeritza takes -2HP Current HP: 8/10

Jeritza began to run. Head down, left arm raised to shield his face against the onslaught, he met the surge straight on simply to stay on his feet. The ocean had been a novel sight to him when he had been relocated to the coastal Hrym territory some years earlier, but he had become fascinated with the tremendous power of the sea. It was an entity that crushed and swept away anything too weak to stand before it. If one desired to conquer the waves, one had to be like the rocks that stood against them and churned the tides into white foam. A facet of nature worthy of his rarely-earned respect.

The wave crashed down over him, soaking him through from head to foot, but he emerged from it spitting water and running his hand through his hair. He noted dimly that he wasn’t cold - the excitement that had ignited in his veins held the hypothermia at bay for now  - and kept wading forward. The beast was there, right in front of him, staring him down with wild eyes that glowed in the winter night. As the water retreated, he lunged out with his blade, cutting through the icy armor to make a shallow cut across its thinly-furred hide.

Jeritza barely hits with Crimson Rapier! Roll: 10 - 8 = 2 Aurora Beast takes -0.5HP Current HP: 9.5/10

It dashed away like the wind, then turned sharply back toward him again and threw its head back to cry for the stars.

Aurora Beast misses with Howling Wind! Roll: 3 - 2 = 1 Jeritza takes -0HP Current HP: 8/10

Jeritza jumped forward, landing on his shoulder and rolling as the last of the water condensed into an icicle and shattered against the ground behind him.

Forage in the forest outside of the village [Max 4 muses per thread] - Receive 1 basket of resource (berries, nuts, mushrooms, herbs, flowers) per post [Can now choose which type]

The buzzing song of insects hangs in the air, accompanied by the sharp crack of a branch snapped underfoot and a grumbled swear. Python kicks the offending stick aside out of the path, cursing the soft cloth shoes that have replaced his usual boots. If he had his clothes and his bow, he could be bringing in pounds of meat to feed the village—if these people were normal. Instead, he trudges through the underbrush with a woven basket on his hip and mutters under his breath.

He's not alone, either. Three sets of hands are better than one, especially when they're expected to contribute to the whole town's larder now. One of the faces with him is...slightly familiar, but he can never be too sure. Not after the way his little chore session got derailed last time. He gestures to each of the girls accompanying him, empty basket swaying off his elbow. "Alright. If either if you are secretly a princess or a queen or something, just get it out of the way and tell me now. Got it?"

“Imperial ships...”

A hushed whisper flows from commander Owain’s lips as the motley crew he’d assembled arrives in Issyk. He can see it, off in the distance, in spite of the darkness surrounding them. His finger is pointed to the mountains, eyes troubled and shoulders heavy. There’s a part of him, deep in the back of his mind, that wonders who or what could be on there. Maybe, just maybe, they would have that thing on them...

“Stay close,” he warns, “we don’t know if they could be crawling around the city. If the need to split up presents itself to you, take a partner and don’t get separated. We’re all to be heroes by the end of this adventure, and I don’t want to lose any of you in the first chapter.” 

The night air is warm and heavy, so much so that sweat forms over Owain’s forehead. Or maybe that’s his nerves, signaling him to be wary of the imperial threat. Whatever the case may be, he rolls up his sleeves and looks to the blinding display of lights in the city. They’re so bright and overwhelming, yet their luminescence barely seems to touch the surrounding terrain. It’s like a void of black swallows what isn’t touched by the city’s lights, and combined with the heat in the air, they almost act as a collective sun for the bustling nightlife.

To make matters worse (or better, depending on who you ask) the crowds of people flocking about are like moths to the lights’ flame. They’re everywhere. They buzz about and obscure the vision of Issyk’s many mercantile buildings. Shops and vendors are hard to truly make out until one walks in close, so Owain resolves within himself to move swift and true.

He begins to push through the crowd, turning his gaze back to his allies every now and then to ensure they haven’t lost anyone. They eventually arrive at a crossroads--facing the space between two buildings. Both look old, dark, and unused, and the alley even more so. If Owain squints hard enough, he can make out the features of a factory and a warehouse. Not of much use, he figures. If they were in Rhedrise though, a factory would’ve certainly caught his eye.

But where to now? They can go through the alley, continue straight through the crowd, head south to change paths--whatever their heart desires, really. Abruptly, Dark stops. He turns to his allies (at least, the ones that decided to stick around this long) and looks at them expectantly. “Hark! A fork lies before us... Knowing it could very well affect our destiny, which path shall we take?” 

@exclted @teneguine @unsungblade @estians @asphuxia @toaedgeofeden

It happens like this in books and stories. The heroes end up in a situation that looks grim and dire. The reader worries what will happen to them and how they could possibly overcome such overwhelmingly bad odds stacked against them. But then, the writer steps in and provides an escape. Something is added to the story that gives them an advantage.

As Est turns into the alley Ethlyn is fleeing, she wonders if this is scripted. It seems too perfectly timed to truly be coincidental but she isn't about to complain. She greets her with a smile but is quick to point out the dangers Est has just stumbled into.

"Those two, with the white hair? They helped me escape. I'd like to do the same for them but I don't think they are going to let us go without a fight."

For a moment, there is peace. A humbling quiet falls over the ragtag group of heroes, and they are given the rare opportunity for personal reflection. In the vastness of a black void, what else is there to do? Perhaps they are being shown a small comfort to make their upcoming struggle worse, or perhaps it simply takes the universe a second or two to generate the next dream for them. Whatever the case may be, Sirius looks at his allies from the safety of his mask. All of them stand with him in this strange plane, the aura of their lances now emanating from their entire bodies. He is merely a traveler: homebound and unwilling to anchor himself to the academy’s personnel. But this group, despite its general lack of conversation, has shown character through action.

That’s the kind of language he can get used to.

The scene changes again, this time filling their void with a thick fog before they’re allowed the gift of light. They stand in a square shaped arena, its floor a red-and-blue checkerboard with some kind of strange emblem decorating its center. Metal pillars sprawl up and away from their box, trailing into the infinite expanse of fog until they can no longer be seen. Stairs and ladders, too, seem to lead into this unending yellow abyss, but what they’re connected to is anyone’s guess. 

Sirius’ first instinct is to touch his face, and doing so reveals that his mask has manifested as a pair of tinted shades this time. They let him see through the fog, if only just what’s in front of him. They’ll be good enough for close-quarters combat.

For lack of a shining Harmony Lance, he has been gifted something extra special: the divine Gradivus. Holding it in his hands almost makes him feel like he’s hallucinating, but its grip is indeed the one he’d familiarized himself with long ago. “We meet again, old friend,” he whispers, just low enough that the others can barely hear it. With this lance, he is all but invincible. 

His steed, too, has been returned to him, though now it sports a pair of wings. If it is anything like the sturdy mares of Grust or the swift mounts of Rigel, he should have no trouble maneuvering himself this fight.

But to fight, one requires a foe. And at first glance, one does not present itself. Rather than creating a sense of security in the knight, it breeds unease, for there is always a great beast to battle in these dreams, and the lack of one only means it could be hiding. 

...

“...In the fog!” He’s spotted the enemy, and this time it appears as a lion wreathed in shadow. Its movements blend in well with the heavy cloud blotting the air around them, but squinting closer reveals four stalking paws circling round its prey. Sirius takes to the skies, quick to deliver the first, revealing blow,

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 11, hit! -7 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 8/15 HP

His thrust is strong and true, piercing through cloud and darkness to strike the enemy in the heart. But as he pulls Gravidus’ shining point from the warped body it stabbed, the umbra coalesces around him and assault him in the same way he did it; a Shadow Gravidus is formed from the beast’s midsection to harm him back,

Reflect activates! -7 HP; Sirius 5/12 HP

Shadow Self 1: Chosen uses Mauling Strike! Roll 1d20 = 19, crit! -4 HP; Sirius 1/12 HP

Sirius is inflicted with -2 def for one round!

The stygian point of his spear’s counterpart also strikes strong and true, forcing the Grustian to reel back and gasp. Blood spills onto his saddle, and before he can grab hold of it to steady himself on his mount, the monster follows up, enlarging one of its claws to bat both pegasus and rider.

Each fall to the colored floor with a loud thud, their bodies hanging on by a thread. Sirius winces as he remounts, and looks again to the battlefield. He knows his allies have not caught up or seen the shadow yet, knows they may fall victim to its trick if they are not warned. And the beast moves closer, and though it has no eyes, Sirius can tell it intends to take him down before its secret is spilled. So he turns away from them, not daring to utter another word. With the holy lance in his hands, only he has the power to end this fight before it even begins.

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 23, crit! -24 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 0/15 HP

Reflect activates! -24 HP; Sirius 0/15 HP

“May this battle be your last!” And again, he charges straight into the action. There is a wordless agreement sown between him and his mount, that should they miss, or should his heavy spear not pierce the enemy far enough or spill all of its black blood, they would surely die on retaliation. And they’re both okay with that. A death as a proud knight beats a life lived in solitude; if they can give their allies the upper hand with their sacrifice, then so be it.

The lion’s head is cleaved from its body when Sirius puts all of his power into his last slash. His eyes go wide, sure that they’ve done it and earned themselves survival, but again he is stuck. Tendrils emerge from the decapitated shadow and assault his torso, bringing him once more to his knees.

Only this time, he has been robbed of the strength to stand.

The world he had only just been introduced to starts to go black. He knows it is not the enemy covering his eyes. Consciousness is fading--a sensation he’s already met with before. Perhaps it is fate that he would end his dream like this. But he would not change if it he could. He watches as the enemy melts into a puddle of black, and they fall together. “Tatiana...” he whispers, and “Nyna...” and then, everything is void again. It’s cold, almost like the sea. He’s been swept from this battle by a force beyond human comprehension, his cobbled form made into a mere pebble to be washed by the tide. But surely they’ve won... Right?

Wrong.

The puddle stands again, this time a crude reconstruction of Sirius’ body. It sports wings--the same wings his mount had--and uses them to ascend to the center of the arena. “I am a shadow... The true self,” it says in a harrowing version of the knight’s voice, “...What a shame. As long as I have Gradivus, I will not fall... You are out of luck; give it up.”

To round out its introduction, it immediately starts charging an attack. It holds its vile imitation of Sirius’ lance in front of its body, and its wings begin to fold in on themselves. Then it glows, a thrum of black almost like a heartbeat. A dark power starts to build up at its core... Ready to be unleashed!

//continued from here

“Oho! Nifty indeed!” Owain exclaims, after having followed Est to the table, “As the Chosen One of War and Strategy, my holy senses urge me to explore further...” He appears impressed now, with eyelids shut, lips pulled into a smirk, and the bridge between thumb and index holding up his chin. But he is also thinking; pondering this twist of fortune. Much of the intel he’d already gone over was nebulous at best, but Est has suddenly presented to him a clear and defined advantage that could be capitalized on. It’s hard to shake the thought that this could be a trap laid by the empire: especially with word of a mole going around. For all he knows, that place could’ve been cleared out with the intention of their mapmaker finding it, so that it might be armed to the teeth when they return.

His finger leaves his chin and taps on the marked spot. Owain’s mind has been made--choosing to trust his gut. “...But Wisdom goads me to act with caution. If you have some stamina and twice the courage, I shall ask that you run regular patrols in the area. Make sure those empire fiends don’t come back before we decide to move in!” 

Yes, that would work. Owain still very much intends to explore the area, but the safety of those close to him must take priority. The last thing he’d ever want is for another to give up their life for him, in a scenario where he could have done more himself. 

His hands come to rest on both corners of the table now, body slumping forward some. Running the idea through his mind a few more times solidifies it as the right one, and he nods to show his orders are absolute here. “Take whatever troops you need from the barracks; tell them the thrall of adventure is too powerful to ignore. And head to cargo, too. Ask for a woman named Lucina, then tell her you require a splendiferous armament of unlimited potential! She’ll know I sent you, and shall keep you stocked for the journey.”