#sheerloyalty

@ignatzlandscape @sheerloyalty @macawbre

When Rhea had first suspected Faolán she had assumed it was information the cardinal thought improper to share with Rhea at that moment not this (whatever this was). That spell Faolán had used, and her words “the will of Saint Seiros” - indeed, she thought wryly, if she had not so recently seen her own blood she may have been tempted to check if it was still there.

(It’s there, she thinks. But is it, can it, change?)

Still, whatever name she goes by, whatever banner she flies, Rhea was made for war. Her students know this reality as well and so when they are so rudely warped out of the catacombs and into the gray backdrop of Garreg Mach’s outer defenses it takes them little time to form teams once more and strike back against the invaders.

Rhea would determine who and what these invaders were at a later time, right now all that mattered was that her sword struck true and that she was here to defend and lead. Four shadowy figures - different from the phantoms of before - face she and her students and Rhea runs ahead to strike at the one in a mockery of bishop robes. The strike lands but not deep enough for her to keep her opponent where she would like and when she pulls her sword back she is encumbered by the magical and physical blows of a sage and wyvern rider respectively.

Vampire Hunter!Priam was too fun of an AU to pass up so here’s a starter! Is your muse a fellow hunter, or a creature of the night themselves? Up to you! Going for a thread that’s sort of Castlevania inspired for October. I’d say magic still exists so let’s just go ham!

Edit: taken! @sheerloyalty @felemfidelem

Whether or not people believed in them, rumors always spread. From some it was in a hushed whisper, others it was a rallying declaration, and from others it was repeated with a dose of skepticism and bitter laugh, but repeated nonetheless.

Vampires, ghosts, werewolves, local legends without names and descriptions that were blurred around the edges- those were his query.

Hunting shadows was the equivalent of chasing rumors. He’d been chasing rumors for quite awhile, venturing out where common townsfolk wouldn’t dare, where others didn’t come back from. Where there was supernatural smoke there wasn’t always fire, but people couldn’t be blamed for leaping to conclusions. Unknown reasons for illness or disappearances sparked fear, and fear demanded action, explanation, anything but letting the oppressive unknown rule a region.

In other words, where there was trouble, a hero was needed. All he had to do was follow the trail of turmoil and gossip to it.

He didn’t mind so much even when there was nothing to be found. Travel suited him. Dust from the road lightly clung to his clothing as he entered a tavern at dusk. His presence always drew a few glances- it wasn’t every day a tall, rugged stranger in a hooded cloak and assorted furs with a coiled whip and silver sword on his hip came to town. He gave the room a nod and ordered a meal before he settled in a corner where he could keep everyone in the room in sight and within earshot.

He didn’t mind if he didn’t find trouble- but this time, it was near certain there was a vampire around. Missing persons and reports of an assailant too strong to be daunted by even several men had spread out in a radius from the point at which he sat from other towns. It seemed he was getting close to the heart of the matter.

And when he found the heart of it, the sword at his side or a stake in his pack would drive right through it.

He observed from under the hem of his hood, but looked up at a presence by him.

Priam’s guard was never truly let down, but he did offer a half smirk. He nudged the chair across from him out with his foot, a clear invitation for the other person.

@sheerloyalty @gricencchos @deavaritiagrado @onlygodremembers @baldursson

What the heck is that.

The question is genuine on Tibarn’s part - this darkness is really getting on his nerves - as they chance upon a door that should, hopefully, lead to some progress (if it could also lead to some light, that would be lovely, but he is not getting his hopes up), but a mechanical giant of some kind stands guard.

Intruders shall not be tolerated. Your blight, your stains, your sins are writ large upon your bodies. Such evil cannot be permitted to enter this sacred place. For a thousand years I have upheld my duty to protect the monastery, entrusted to me by the Holy Saint Seiros. And I shall uphold that promise for a thousand years more!

OK, he gets it. Anyway,

with a wince - he has a feeling this will not go well - he transforms and flies up as much as the space available to him allows, before charging up, his talons stretched out to test their newfound opponent.

Tibarn attacks: 1d20+2=4. Miss. Golem HP: 30/30

The test fails miserably, for a brief trick of the light makes Tibarn think the golem’s head reaches higher up than it truly does, and he merely flies harmlessly above it, stopping himself only in the last moment from crashing into the wall.

Golem counterattacks: 1d20=9. Barely hit. Tibarn HP: 11.5/12

The dodge maneuver almost saves him from the swing of the giant’s lance, but he does take a scratch to his side. He shakes the hit off quickly; nothing major. It missed his wing, and that’s what’s important.

Well, this is going to go swimmingly for him. Who sent him here again?!

All at the Academy, students, Knights and Professors, are to broaden their horizons and never stop searching for their hidden potential. And so one day, in response to a call for volunteers, a group of curious souls gathers at the training grounds for an interesting experiment. The goal? Find a partner or partners, exchange mounts, weapons and equipment, and try them out on each other. Who knows - perhaps you have a gift for magic, swordfighting or wyvern riding you never knew about! [Grants Any Skill +1]

“Hana?” Elincia gives Chrysaor a gentle scratch behind the ears as he adjusts to having someone else in the saddle. He’s calm and behaves like a gentleman, beating his wings just above the ground as her friend gets used to the feeling of flying. She wouldn’t fall right now unless she threw herself off his back but even if panic did get the better of pegasus and rider, the worst that would happen is a light bruise. “Are you comfortable on his back? Chrysaor’s really gentle and he won’t take you too far up today. So don’t worry!”

She picked up her Wo Dao to demonstrate - it wouldn’t hurt to get some pointers from Hana about fighting on her own two feet either. The techniques used in swordfighting were very different if one was mounted, flying or on had both feet planted on terra firma. As such, she hoped to show Hana a few moves of her own, once she felt confident enough riding Chrysaor at least.

“Oh, if you like I could show you a little faith magic too? We’ll see how far we get!”

Swapping the sword to her left hand, Elincia takes a Training Axe in her right - she’s sure she’s going to need the extra strength and control. Despite merely being a wooden weapon it’s heavy and doesn’t at all balance the way she’s used to. It feels.... clumsy in her grip but surprisingly powerful for a mere training weapon.

“Oh, am I holding this correctly?” Elincia asked Hana, trying to give the thing a swing. She almost stumbled forwards. “It’s very different to what I expected!”

IT IS UNBECOMING OF A NOBLE SON TO HESITATE.

All the same, Lorenz stands at the edge of the larger throng of people, his moment of repose spent squeezing the clasped hands behind his back into fists in some measure to release the tension that builds in his body. It is unwarranted: this is no endless void, with flashes of storm and red at his periphery. This is the soft lantern light and sunsets, sweet spiced pies and the laughter of children, and his reaction is wholly unbecoming. And unwarranted.

This is a festival, not a battlefield, and Hana is idling, and they are not crossing weapons in a match to end in death.

—She was not the one to strike him down. His side still aches from the bite of her blade, but it was not—her.

Lorenz has done his very best (in the midst of struggling to reconcile so many impossibilities) what to do with the guilt that was behind the thrust of his lance, and his incidental reaction to a familiar face.

He swallows. He holds his chin high, and puts forth all energy he can muster to brandish his smile as its own weapon. They do not have to speak of such terrible things, but to not speak at all is cowardice, and he is many things, but never a coward in any measure.

“Hana!” With a specific measure of enthusiasm behind her name, although he speaks as though it is a surprise they should cross paths—“Such a lovely face, and yet you do not seem to be attached to anyone’s arm, nor have an admirer on yours in turn!

“If you are not waiting, perhaps you would like to join me for a walk through the festivities? I can think of no fairer company!”

The Brotherhood Of Ostentatious Mayhem, also known as BOOM, are testing some new projectiles that they swear are harmless and mostly just for show. To that end, they’ve enlisted you and several other students to prove it to the Church. They paid you, so you want to believe them, of course. But it’s hard when you’re staring down the business end of a cannon with nothing more than a misfitting set of armor. [Grants Heavy Armor +1] // @sheerloyalty

“Hana? HANA!!” Henry raised his visor for a a moment, in order for her to recognize who was diving at her at record speeds. Of course, as soon as she saw his blighting grin, his visor flapped back into place and he found himself tackling her into a hug. Lifting her up for a second, he remembered that the duel armor thing probably made it incredibly uncomfortable, didn’t it? But really, what a ( his mind flickers for a second to the sparing pink fabric that flowed under the set of armor ) deathly delight this was! He was ecstatic! No, he was more than ecstatic! ( He wished it was just that. )

“Don’t tell me.” His voice was filled with hints of tease, as he pulled off his helmet to showcase just how emotionally wrought with happiness he was. From his crinkled eyes to the tips of his smile, just about every part of him was overjoyed. In fact, he even did a little wizard jig, just for show. “From the misfitting armor down to the weird student line up, you agreed to help BOOM too, huh? I just thought their name was super funny, so I thought: Hey! Why—”

A loud explosion overtook the entire crowd, piercing the very sky with a HUGE flaming ninja star. He immediately grabbed her by the side and took them both down for cover. They said they were testing new projectiles! He swore to literally every god above, if Hana died again he’d probably kill this whole camp ground and then himself. “...Not.”

| roll : 1 |

It's a shot she's not sure if she can make, but that does nothing to halt her movements at slightly raising her head -- a nod towards Mitama. Then, she shoots.

Mitama told them not to put her in the net. She asked politely not to be put in the net.

Mitama was in the net.

Mitama sighed to herself as she rested against the stick, watching the others skate around and struggle. This was fine. This was fine! It was the worst possible scenario in her opinion, but so long as the others showed any bit of merit, she would not actually have to-

Hana was skating towards her with the puck. Oh, absolutely not.

Mitama rolled a 1.

As Hana prepares her shot, Mitama moves to the side of the net. She grabs hold of the bar and, as much as she can without sending herself sliding, pulls the net down so the exposed part lies on top of the ice.

The puck hits the bar and slides away harmlessly.

“No, you can’t do that! Take the shot again!”

“I blocked it!” Mitama argues, gesturing to the net.

“No, again!”