#plumeriinae

Warrior Cats AU starter for @ofdusk @plumeriinae @viridescent-lance @closuretainer @cavalry

He didn’t know why.

His owners had been fine. They fed him and left water out for him, and he’d enjoyed a life of comfort. Granted… they never pet him much, they hadn’t bought him a new toy for quite awhile, they never let him outside, and he didn’t have a lot to do, but he did sleep on nice carpet whenever he wanted. It was an alright life compared to this.

Jakob tilted his head back and yowled with frustration at the DIRT in his fur. 

There was dirt EVERYWHERE. Under him. In front of him. Behind him. Everywhere he looked in what he’d only ever seen from a window was dirt and dust and grime and trees and bugs and ewwwwwwwww!

He had to step on dirt to go anywhere, and it disgusted him. Jakob thoroughly licked his paws, legs, and tail clean, coughing up hair balls with a miserable scrunched up hiss. How was he supposed to survive without a bowl of food and daily swept floors? 

Jakob looked up to the sky, branches above him letting some sunlight through. He meowed pathetically and then yowled again, hoping his humans would hear and take him home. 

Nothing. 

He tip-toed forward, long tinted silver fur fluffed out with displeasure, striking violet eyes narrowed. Complaining again, he growled in time with his stomach, certain he was going to starve to death or come down with something from all the dirt nearby. 

Crinkle-crunch!

“MROOOOW!!!!!”

Doing a somersault, Jakob screeched and landed on his feet, hissing at the offending object he’d stepped on. It was brown with jagged edges… a leaf?

Iron Round

They'd made it past the first round. Deirdre breathes heavy and clutches at her lance wound but she smiles at the two other women. They ended up as a good team. They are given a few moments respite to swap out their inventory before being thrown back into the action. She brings a new spell this time, another tome borrowed from Arvis. But she returns her sword. It is time to return to her roots as a healer.

Recover to Byleth: roll 1, +3 HP

Byleth HP: 7/10

"Allow me to assist, professor," her voice is soft and soothing, calming to both herself and the recipient of her spell. The warming magic flows through her and to the professor bringing her back to fighting condition. "You took quite the beating last round. I will ensure it does not get so bad again. You may trust me to have your back!

The arena is waiting for you. Try you hands at new weapons and best a variety of opponents! Open to all.

These had been the words on the flier that strange man wearing a pumpkin on his head had shoved into the professor’s hand as she’d wandered around the festivities checking out the stalls. She didn’t know if he was distributing them to everyone or had singled her out due to her armour and obvious weaponry but the swirling purple text had intrigued her enough to head to the stated location. 

Upon arrival she noticed a small crowd of students and staff alike, mingling outside a colourful circus looking tent. She waved at a few faces she recognised and waited to be told what was going on. 

“Welcome to Phantasmagoria‘s famous arena!” A voice projected into the crowd. Byleth looked around and spotted another character with a pumpkin head on a small stand addressing them all. “Who dares enter it’s walls, leaving your weapons behind, and taking up something new against our dastardly cast of enemies? Treats await for the victors and for the vanquished... perhaps a trick will suffice”

While it was a strange premise, the mercenary was alway ready to throw down in combat so Byleth carefully removed her sword and placed it in the provided barrel. Looking at the options available, she picked the steel lance and scroll containing a new spell.

They milled around in the holding area whilst each team was called forwards. Eventually it was just her, Dierdre, Pulmeria and Michalis left. 

“Guess you lot are the final team.  Hee Hee!” Came a high pitched voice from a shorter robed figure. “This way. This way. Hee Hee!”

The arena itself was more a glorified patch of dirt in the centre of the tent. The outer edge of the circle glowed faintly indicating the presence of magic. It pulsed blue as each of them entered. Awaiting them were their opponents. A short archer with an even shorter bow, a muscle brawler type bashing his fists together in preparation and a soldier in elaborate armour. Presiding above them was a cavalier on a huge black horse, dressed in pitch black armour to match. 

“Let’s the fight commence!” 

Byleth drew her lance from her back and held it in front of her defensively. “I’ll go first” she told her team charging at the soldier.

Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -4HP  [Soldier : 2/6 HP]

The ashen demon lived up to her moniker, stabbing the soldier through the clavicle with the point of the lance, driving them to the floor and pinning them there. 

Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -3HP  [Byleth : 7/10HP]

However, Byleth struggled to remove the lance from the puncture wound, unuse to its increased length compared to her sword. As she tugged at the weapon, she felt a searing sensation in her leg where the soldier had taken his own lance and swiped in across her thigh leaving a deep gash. 

sweet not sour

She was definitely staring at her.

Charlotte's eye was also definitely twitching but there wasn't much she could do about that while keeping up her polite little smile and docile little doe-eyed act.

What was up with this chick? Was it Charlotte's outfit? Did she have something on her face? She didn't know, did she? No, there was no way she could know, Charlotte had been so careful since she got here, she hadn't slipped up once yet, not even when that guy tried to grab her ass in passing and she'd grabbed his wrist and-

And this girl was definitely staring at her and Charlotte had no idea why. She was a student, right? Didn't she have some class to get to or something? She didn't look important or rich enough to be skipping out on that shit. Then again, with the uniforms students wore, it was kinda hard to tell at times who was what until the brats opened their mouths.

She was still fucking staring.

Terrible First Meeting Starters | accepting

"I have not," Fáfnir deadpans. There isn't much left that can surprise him anymore, but his eyes still linger on the stained glass mosaic of the dökkálfar's wings. They flutter behind her back like those of a butterfly and he decides that they must be real appendages, not some elaborate costume.

"You come from one of the nine realms, do you not?" His gaze shifts to hers now with a mild curiosity. Though he had travelled far across the countries of Zenith on his bloody conquest, his memories of what he had seen in each one blur together into shades of crimson and the endless pleas for mercy. Had there been winged figures amidst the corpses he had tread across, he has no recollection of them, but he also dares not wade too deeply back into the horror. A brief brush with the past calls forth the bloodied face of a woman grasping desperately at his leg with her only remaining arm, and he flinches away from it to force out the memory of the palace's library instead. There he remembers that Ótr had once mentioned álfar, having found them in an old book.

They had sounded like creatures of fairytales then. He still can't tell if this one isn't.

send 🍪 for pocky day!

Mercedes spots her, a shy figure hiding away behind the rest of the students. Silver hair, glowing in the sunlight and wings like a butterfly. She's beautiful but more pressingly, she looks lonely.

So she tucks her blonde hair behind her shoulder and makes her way over, pack of candy in hand. Everyone else was playing this silly little game for some light-hearted fun and it'd be a shame for someone to be left out. Mercedes smiles gently at the woman before her, holding out the box of sweets to make her intentions clear.

Round three. They're still in this. Deirdre has definitely felt better. She's exhausted and aching, but she's still standing. After this, she will certainly need some healing and rest but now is not the time. Plumeria is barely standing. At least Byleth has made it to this round with only a few injuries herself.

Recover for Plumeria: roll 20!

Plumeria HP: +6

Each cast of her recover spell has given Deirdre more confidence with it. The practice has certainly been helping. The spell comes quite naturally to her and a bright healing light flows over Plumeria fixing most of her injuries.

Deirdre smiles and nods at her. "I believe in you. You can do this!"

image

Rhys had long limbs if nothing else, which made this a bit easier.

There was a large sheet the size of a tablecloth with colored dots in rows painted on it, large enough for a hand or a foot to be inside of them. He didn't know why he had agreed to this, but here he was-

He had a hand on a green dot, a foot on a green dot in the same row, and he lifted his other foot, squinting up at Plumeria. "Blue? Uh, alright." That was easier than the same row, at least. He carefully planted his foot on the blue dot.