#labyrinthvalley2021

     Celica,   Constance,   Marth,   Rhys.        ◞        @seraphiia, @irroche,   &   @daydreamful 

               FOR   ABOUT   THIRTY   minutes now, or perhaps it has conversely been many more, their small yet capable caucus has heeded strange tremors. Shivers of the earth that rocked their very feet, accompanied occasionally by lava spouting from natural blowholes eroded into the ground. The party of four only watched and waited, patiently, upon rock stumps or travel packs for even greater signs of the lava worm’s reemergence.                

               It was a beastly entrance that they did not anticipate alone by any means, as a few similar hunting parties of Heretics and Devout alike went to prove. Including their academy, several factions now seek the prized feat of slaying the beast that swims elusively in Ailell’s magma lakes. Those of Seitra’s pious order seek it for mettle, but they of the academy have their reasons as well. Present the defeated corpse of this titanic worm to the villagers and there may be a telling whisper, nay—a rewarding source of intelligence—of where the relic they seek could lie.

              If that alone was not enough incentive, then perhaps it’s even the overconfident views of the village’s presiding elder. Argeldt the Holy Fist, as he’s called, who believes that it’ll be his Devout adherents that turn the worthy worm into prey.. Not a ‘soft’ gaggle of court-raised youths and their reedy professor. The resolve his subtle prejudice sows is more than clear, and even the mild-mannered Altean prince has taken to filing his blade in their period of waiting.

              However, Marth soon stills. The calm, laundering motions of his whetstone are stalled, then abandoned, as he picks up his sword and suddenly raises himself from his seat across a rock. There is something, a vibration or feeling of sorts, that rustles his senses like the illusive calm that precedes any storm. More dauntingly, the charged air of a virgin battlefield feels much the same. “Celica, Lady Constance.. Professor Rhys,” He says to each in turn, eyeing the once calm pothole that now sloshes violently with lava a few paces ahead.

               “I do believe our quarry has finally decided to appear.”

ToaLabyrinth2021 Team Valley Event Thread Starter for @cruelsfate

One habit that was shared between teacher and medic was taking attendance.

Rhys spoke softly to himself, counting as he recited names, peering around for either the sight of his companions or to remember who was out on a mission. “Ylgr... Kris... Salem... Merric... Constance... Bernadetta... Kana... Serra... Celica... Marth... uh oh.” Rhys paused when he got to Marianne, brow furrowing. He didn’t recall her going on a mission, and more troubling, he didn’t know that he’d seen her all that day.

He kept his anxious feelings down, not yet willing to sound the alarm. There were strangers everywhere. Surely she was safe somewhere. Rhys folded his hands in front of him in his sleeves and strode around where they’d been staying, hiding his clasped, clammy, white knuckled hands out of sight.

Not only as his fellow combatant, but as a student too, he felt doubly responsible.

And thankfully, he spotted her within minutes, slightly out of sight. Rhys sighed with relief. Perhaps he’d overlooked her, his own eyes not catching her downcast ones. Her pale blue hair was a welcomed sight and he rushed to her, color returning to his face. Despite his relief, his voice was still soft. “Oh! Marianne! Ah, sorry to trouble you, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Apart from the group, and with a posture that suggested she wished more to shrink from sight than be in the center of all the activity... was she alright? Perhaps the situation or environment were troubling. Perhaps it was something else.

That...felt like it ended with a lot less fanfare than it should have.

No great fight. No evil hiding. Bernadetta had practically jumped out of her skin and hidden behind Constance when they’d found themselves being welcomed back by the villagers again. She didn’t really care if these weren’t the same people who sent them there. Bernie had enough of this whole place and she was ready to go home and never, ever, go on another mission for the church again.

Closing the door to her room behind her, Bernadetta let out a loud groan, slowly sliding to sit on the floor. She hid her face against her knees and reached back to pull her hood over her head.

She’d survived. She’d survived.

How terrifying...

Time marched on against Bernadetta’s will. When she raised her head again, the sun had set on Garreg Mach, and she was alone in her dark room. While this was normally something Bernie adored it felt...off this time. The dark. The quiet. Bernie didn’t like to think of what could be watching her from anywhere.

She began to stand slowly, but when her mind helpfully supplied the memory of a painful blue light she went scrambling over to her desk.

Shaking hands managed to light the candle on top of her desk, sending away the shadows for a little while. With a relieved sigh, Bernadetta slumped into her seat.

Her eyes roamed over her desk, scanning half started projects and notes from class, until they settled finally on something. The little plant from Dagda.

...well, she promised she would speak to it.

Northeast of Garreg Mach lies Ailell, Valley of Torment. Most know to steer clear, and for good reason: these barren lands full of flame and ire are inhospitable at best, and downright deadly at worst. And yet, there are those who have made for themselves a home nearby, and make of the valley and what scant resources it provides a modest living. These are the monks said to have long used Ailell as a training ground.

TEAM MEMBERS

Ylgr, Rhys, M!Kris, Salem, Merric Constance, Bernadetta, M!Kana  Serra, Celica, Marth, Marianne

TEAM TAG: #LabyrinthValley2021

ToaLabyrinth2021 Valley Team Event Thread Starter for @ostiancleric

Rhys liked to focus on the positive in life, but even he had to admit under his positive or neutral outwardly demeanor that this place was just about every stretch of awful horrific terrain he’d ever seen with his own two eyes condensed into one location. And yet, people had decided to live here. People who, despite sharing in holding a holy title, were so far removed from what Rhys expected or could directly relate to.

Truly, the difference between priests and monks couldn’t be wider. That, and which was the true way the people of Fódlan worshipped- here on the volcanic wastes with conflict between factions and a demonic beast chained to a marked statue, or the pristine fortress monastery of marble?

He wasn’t going to adjust his own personal curriculum, whichever the answer.

As guests, they all had to do their part to help the local people. Out of most everything on the list, Rhys felt he could at least catch a small lizard or two, prized as they were. He suspected the little things were probably poisonous, stinky, or had incredibly needlelike sharp claws based on how the rest of the accursed landscape looked, but he had to try. His one useful virtue here was patience.

And so, he waited. But not alone.

Rhys had a rough, large scrap of burlap in his hands to help him catch any lizard he spotted. He perched on a rock, already grieving the whiteness of his robes. He trained his eyes on several small pools of lava where it was rumored that lizards hid. He wiped his forehead with a staggered breath, sweating profusely. It felt as though most of his time would be spent fetching and distributing water to everyone, and then promptly sweating all the rest of his out as he struggled to survive this volcanic, hot, arid land.

“Are you ready for if we spot any?” Rhys asked, voice somewhat hoarse despite having drank water minutes before. He turned to Serra. “They say they’re small creatures, but I don’t know exactly how small.” He gulped.

ToaLabyrinth2021 Valley Team Event Thread Starter for @dragon-kiddos

It was humble but important work being a healer. Rhys was often in the back of the party with a surveyor’s view of the battlefield, yet he was no tactician like Soren. He’d seen many conflicts and wartime marches, yet he was nowhere as hardy as Ike. He’d been through so much, yet at the end of it all he was a simple priest.

And that was alright. 

First thing first was fetching water and keeping everyone hydrated. Chances were, most of their group was ill adapted to such heat. At least doing something tedious for others would make up for his lack of fortitude and battle finesse. He’d brought a training bow, but it was hardly going to be useful in his hands. Rhys had a few water flasks and a cup of water in his arms as he bustled around, looking to who would need him most.

Ah. Their youngest. In another life, Rhys might’ve protested seeing someone so childlike in their numbers, but he understood, he understood with a weight in his chest that was too shapeless to define with words. He’d watched Mist and Rolf venture into the fray of battle when they had no other choice. For a moment, he missed them so terribly his throat burned from more than just charred air. His own bowknight in leather armor, his own faith student growing up so fast, his companions he’d taken to spending time with and watching over as though they were his own family... He pushed it all back down, focusing on who was in front of him. Rhys had to believe his friends were alright without him.

He had to do what he could for who was in front of him.

“Kana, right?” Rhys had gotten a gist of who was who in their company. He approached Kana and handed him the water cup, prepared to give him a flask too. “Here. The heat is difficult to soldier though, isn’t it? It’s important to keep your fluids up. Thirst is a lot more than just discomfort, so it’s vital to take care of yourself. I’m Rhys.” He smiled softly. “ I’m a healer, so if you get any kind of injury, it doesn’t matter how small, I’ll help. Just let me know if you need anything, alright? Are you feeling well?” He reached out with a free hand to touch Kana’s forehead. He had to wonder what all Kana had been through to be with them so young, what words would best encourage him. “You’re brave, coming out here with us.”

He hoped he sounded reassuring— not desperate to not lose someone on his own watch, or patronizing. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause Kana worry.... though the circumstances were unpleasant already. All his words rang with soft urgency and genuine care.

     Kris,   Marth,   Merric.        ◞        @unsungblade  &   @windsheedme                 

               AILELL,   ACCURSED   VALLEY   of flame, sits within eyeshot of the monastic settlement known as Seitra. Forsaken by all upon the world map beyond this village’s more acclimated populace and the most foolhardy of tacticians. Those inspirited by desperation or daring, seeking a treacherous route for their armies where no enemy of sane mind would dare to pursue.

              ..And yet, here they are.

               A single look could certainly explain the terrible repute; volcanic terrain that presented itself as an open bed of coals, unsuitable for most men and beasts and deeming the popular claims of insanity naught but true. As a slippery slope of charred pebbles nearly gives under his foot, it even reminds Marth of the hazardous sector that his ancestor once traversed during his pilgrimage for the divine blade.

               The Flame Barrel, as he recalled from Anri’s saga, back in his homeland. Their homeland. With a rousing blink, he cast a look over his shoulder at the two other members within his party. Subjects, companions, friends. He’s glad that Merric and Kris have accompanied him to the valley for intelligence and relic scouting, even if a lack of their presence still would not deem him totally alone.

               Ahead, the reclusive Seitra monks lead the way to their usual scavenging grounds for the visiting triad of foreigners. Three Altean students clad in the sleek black-and-gold finery of the Officer’s Academy, though their stylish regalia certainly hinders more than it helps here. Any excuses to wear their dark robes and overcoats dwindle by the second as a hot draft worms its fingers throughout the nooks of the valley. Magma filtrating without recess from earthen pores.

                “Kris. Merric. You two must be roasting in this heat. Are you alright?” Marth finally asks in concern, turning to his fellow Alteans upon their arrival to the grounds. The temperature, for now, is bearable but still borders on intensity. Bathing his face with warmth as if heated, from inches away, by an ironsmith’s molten hammer-and-tongs. He hooks a finger into his collar and tugs it free before continuing.

ToaLabyrinth2021 Team Valley Event Thread Starter for @fellblccd

No cause was lost, in the eyes of an optimist. Rhys was truly being tested with fire on this expedition. He’d acclimated as best as possible for someone of his constitution. He’d gone with only his simple outer robe instead of several layers and had tied a cloth around his forehead to stave off the sweat and the misery of wiping at his eyes in such heat, certain that the very atmosphere was an irritant.

But whatever it took, his teammates needed him. His duty was the health and wellbeing of others, for whatever they may need assistance with, It was the least he could do.

He wandered into the wastes, partner nearby. Almost of their own accord, his eyes squinted as he peered out at the charred land, surveying the bubbling lava and the drab earth around it.

“We’ll have to venture further to find anything. I take it all the monks have picked the closer areas clean. Uh, is that okay with you?”

Rhys turned to his companion. Tall, well built, and intimidating for reasons beyond him. He’d never found anyone in his own party to be particularly menacing, bulky and towering over him or not. Maybe it was the extra eye markings on his face under the other ones. Not a tattoo design Rhys himself would ever choose... but he endeavored to not judge. His eyes flickered to his companion’s hand, where a mark of a similar color was visible.

He knew little of those who were Branded, and their heritage was none of his business.