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Leon didn’t have a particular target. He stopped for a minute to eat some of his ammunition- peanut butter cream pie- and watched Claude pass by in front of him. Well then. Leon rose and threw it with all his might. “HYA!”
“Ah shit.”
“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH-”
“Fuck.”
Claude has died.
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Her aim could hardly compare to his, but Mist thinks she has a pretty good vantage point. Hidden behind some shrubbery as Claude walks the path in front of her, the cleric holding back her giggle as she waits for him to pass... just a biiiit more... and—now! "HAAAH!" She jumps out of the bushes and throws a key lime pie his way, cackling gleefully. "Eat this!"
On his way to the dining hall, Claude scrutinizes the shrubbery.Â
He’s been raised to be alert of his surroundings, but today of all days his sixth sense of danger has been working overdrive. For on his usual late-night strolls through campus, he followed the trail of cracked eggs and spilled flour to the warm dining hall. The air, saccharine sweet like strawberry preserves, led him to peek into the kitchens, where the ovens blazed hot through the night, cranking out pies like clockwork. The Pie War has returned.
Claude may not have participated in the last one, but the stories have always made him wonder, What if? But no, not this time. It’d be too predictable. And so, he starts to go on his way again:
“HAAAH!”
Roll: 5, miss! Hey, Claude’s just walking here!
Claude’s heart races as he turns towards the source of the scream, hand reaching under his coat for a dagger. Yet the only danger is the blur of white that shoots past him, bouncing on its side once on the pavement before it falls. tin side down. Claude looks back at Mist, silent as he catches his breath... and he grins at her. “Hey,” he calls to her, pointing at his mouth, “next time, aim here!”
Luck clearly did not lie in his pie throwing skills. Inigo considered the line of pastries, finding himself drawn to the baguettes over in the corner. He picks one up, testing the balance. A grin blooms along his features. Yes, ripping a page out of Cynthia's book is perfect. Inigo finds Claude roaming the halls. Oh, he hasn't forgotten what Lucina said about the Battle of Eagle and Lion. Light on his feet as ever, he makes his move, wielding his sword baguette. "This is for my girlfriend!"
“Your what?!”
Roll:Â 11, hit!Â
“Ow!”
With a baguette bonk, Claude is officially in the game!
Caught off guard by the first hit, Claude at least manages to grab the other baguette when the second hit comes for him. Eye to eye with Inigo, he can only say, “That was months ago! If your love for her is only as strong as two baguettes, then you shouldn’t have bothered with all this.”
With Linhardt in tow, Ingrid readies a colourbomb pie in her hands, breathing softly. She sees her target and locks into a stance, poised. Careful, precise; she ducks and starts to sprint, drawing her arm back, training her eye and wishing for precision, and she throws— directly at Claude. He’s always been one to complain about her uptightness, isn’t he? It’s awfully deviant of her, but... let’s see how he likes a taste of his own medicine! “Try this on for size, Claude!”
Roll: 3, Miss! But Claude applauds the effort
“Ingrid? Well! What a totally unladylike thing to do, throwing a pie at a gentleman such as myself...” Claude grins cheekily at her, “Glad to see you doing something so pedestrian, though your technique could use some work. Let me give you a demonstration!”
Claude takes little time to prepare, only taking his mini banoffee pie and lobbing it at Ingrid with practiced grace.
He's already out, but let it never be said that Byleth plays favorites with the house leaders. He's thrown a pie at Edelgard (even if it didn't land), and Dimitri is spared by virtue of being nowhere to be seen today, which just leaves... Claude. The remains of a meat pie go sailing through the air in a glorious arc, hurtling towards its target at average speed. (Won't count if you get hit, haha. It's just for fun.)
Roll: 20, critical hit! But this is a pie of mercy, and Claude stays in the game!
As the meat pie closes in on his face, Claude thinks once last time, Teach absolutely has his favorites, and it’s not me.
At least the pie tastes good.
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He's getting better at this silence thing (for now anyway), even if his latest tactic was the oldest one in the book. The hinge-arm Claude displaces via the next door he opens sends a fluffy cream pie falling unceremoniously down onto his head. The only artistry involved in it at all had been getting the thing to balance upside down so that the pie, not the tin, would hit him first. That, and finding a pie sturdy enough without the tin to handle the inversion for any length of time.
With his mind made up, Claude goes to his room to prepare–
Roll:Â 5, miss! This is an invasion of privacy!
A pie splats on the floor. Right in front of him. Chunks of cream managed to splash onto his boots. These pie warriors will stop at nothing, huh.
With his door closed and locked seven times over, Claude formulates a plan.
Annette wondered if she would ever get as good with her aim as she'd heard Claude was. She also knew that Claude was pretty speedy, so she made as little sound as possible when throwing the apple pie in her hand.
Now it’s time to get supplies–
Roll: 11, Hit!
A pie lands on Claude’s side, and he dramatically falls to the ground, rolling once, twice... three times...
Saving Roll:Â 14, Claude lives for another day!
...before he swiftly pushes himself back onto his feet and keeps running, shaking off the blow. Claude will have to be careful next time, he won’t get lucky twice.
