#AOtau2024

[starrook]

"So, who do you think it was?"

The question has lurked in the recesses of her mind for all the while that they were investigating the library. An unoccupied mind is a restless one, and in the short respite they have between tasks, she finds it resurfacing. It's not something she can afford not to look into.

Ares doesn't remember. Edward seems uninterested in pursuing it, Leo actively opposed. And Lucina she hardly knew, beyond her name and the legends that followed it; to broach such a discussion with her would be a risky endeavor.

Alcryst, though—Alcryst had seemed like he might be amenable.

"Of those I was with, I can't imagine it was Ares, given he ended up here. And Ewan is a kindhearted boy. Which I suppose leaves Rafal..."

But she had a hard time believing that he had. It was certainly not that she didn't want to; only that it wouldn't make sense, given what she remembered of that first day with him, would it?

"Who were among your group?" The girl asks instead. "Were there any that might seem... predisposed?"

Alcryst raises his eyebrows at the sudden question. His first instinct is, of course, to look around and see who might be in earshot. He knows this is supposed to be a finished topic, amongst the rest of the group at least.

Secretly, he's relieved to see Poe willing to get to the bottom of what happened back in the "living world". Because... how could things spiral out of control so quickly? Why hide the truth? Could they not trust each other even now...?

"Rafal was my first thought," Alcryst admits in a hushed voice. "I think he's..." Pauses, struggles to think of the right way to say this. "he seems to have the personality of someone who wants to take charge and decide how things will go. And as a Fell Dragon, he doesn't lack in power... if he thought it necessary to kill them all, then he would allow it. And if he didn't, this wouldn't have happened. Ah, that's my impression, at least..."

As for his group... Alcryst frowns. Earlier questioning them hadn't crossed his mind—at the time it was easier not to suspect the people that he worked so closely with in his last hours alive. But now, with some distance, he think he can consider each option more objectively. "I'd strike Lucina off the list as well, for the same reason as Ares. For the rest... I've only known Erk for a short time, but he didn't seem like someone with the nerve to murder three allies." Alcryst shakes his head, remembering the young mage that couldn't even stand the dark. "I don't believe Seliph would do such a thing either. I never saw him with that kind of disposition."

Which leaves Knoll. And Alcryst opens his mouth to defend the dark mage in turn, but the more he thinks about it, the more pieces fall into place. Unflappable, pragmatic Knoll. "...I don't know if Knoll has the disposition either. But from what I've seen of him, he'd have plenty of nerve to do so." The archer frowns. To think he'd question him now... "...Still. There's more to this than just who did it, don't you think?"

[pryings]

retention (retaliation) of light

ruminations. topic : the suddenness of death.

if one were to ask about the kiss of mandibles on skin, knoll would answer thusly: it had hurt.

this is not a profound statement, by any stretch. he does not remember what it was like to die that first time, he only remembers the after.

the second death is no kinder. poison, magic, and blade. mostly blade.

the priests and clerics used to say that there would be an after. for what it is worth, knoll does not find one. it is simply, one second he is present and the next he is not.

the bite of metal is not unfamiliar. lachesis ( is she is a lady with a title? she acts like noble ladies sometimes do ) does what needs to be done, he does not begrudge her for it. his magic is—different here. wrong. he does not begrudge her. the little tactician helps, until the poison takes her. knoll does not begrudge her either.

—this is consistent with what he knows of human behaviour. prioritization of survival. he wants to see them make it, but he does not think they will. human beings typically take profound satisfaction in a job well done, and knoll is no exception. therefore: he is frustrated over his own failure. one must call this negative creation.

if he had died where he was supposed to, this would not be a concern. had he been executed on schedule, someone would have pushed the rubble to the side of the road, let the corpse-filled wagons pass. his late father was one such, one of those who pulled the corpse-wagons. getting mired in scum and ashes, splintered glass, bloody rags. and as such, his father departed the world earlier than many would like.

he wonders at who would pull his own corpse away, from the executioner's block. from the jaws of the creature in the tower. from the hallway, where he had finally collapsed as lachesis' sword and the ghost before him finally did their work.

he says nothing as he finally dies. death is not quick, and it is not comfortable, and in this instance: it is not what he wanted it to be.

[exclted]

˚ · . anonymous asked:

once, you paid this place as the price for light. footsteps down empty halls; fond memories crumbled beneath dying stones. today, the light has returned to its perch, returned glory to the rooms you knew. laughter fills it, familiar and warm and a little dissonant in the way those you love have sometimes loved and sometimes fought and always stood together. it may not be the same as what you left behind, but it is restored, and is it yours. for as long as you can remember, you've longed to take off the mask. the butterfly of endless blue burns you with its wings, with its false recognition. you wish to wear your hair long; you wish to hear your own name. you are on your knees when a hand extends to you, takes the edge of the mask, and pries it gently from your face. it whispers to you — you are no timeless hero-king. you are mortal, full of flaws and fancy, and you will live as one of us. veil of the rightful king, bend your head for a crown that was never yours. your carriage is laden with the unsatisfied souls of a hundred men. even memory fades with time. which path will you grasp with all your might?

Of promises, Lucina finds she has grown wary. So many things had been promised to her by this life, and one by one she had buried and mourned them all. She tells herself before their graves that it is okay, that this is how it was all meant to be.

That she does not ache for all that she has lost, for it would be cruel to in the face of all the lives saved by her sacrifice.

But hope-- selfish hope-- reminds her that she is a liar. She can see her childhood home before her; the never-ending hallways warmed by afternoon sun, the measured voice of a father who has not forgotten his daughter's mismatched eyes.

It would take only a step to return to it. It would take only a step to watch it crumble to ash for a second time.

Suddenly she is aware of hands at her cheeks, her shoulders, hovering just above her skin. Fingers coax the veil from her eyes, lift the mask that she had forgotten she was wearing. Like a limb, Lucina can feel its absence. There is an ache, pain that swells in her chest and tightens her throat.

How long has it been since she was last allowed to be a girl? Since she had let herself forget all of the things she was meant to be, and remembered all that she truly is?

The vision of her home flickers, fading to nothing as though an old photo set to flame. She cannot scream, cannot beg for it to return or fight the hands that caress her to reach for it. She knows that they would not stop her if she tried, and yet she tells herself that they might.

Because that life had never been meant for her. It cannot be hers. If it could, what would all of these years have been worth?

[princepsumbra]

belonging was your birthright; you have always felt this to be true. you have sickened of fighting for it tooth and nail, with blood and tears. but that is all in the remembered past. today you are someone new. today you are someone respected. when you walk the streets of your dark city, the men, women, and children smile at your approach. they know your strength and your knowledge, and they trust in it as they trust in as they trust in the faces of the old gods.

your once-resplendent clothing has been reduced to tatters, but pain, numbness, ache, and cold no longer trouble you. what you have exchanged in their stead is more precious than any caged comfort a castle could offer. you know this is where you were meant to be, not shackled to the whims of the noble and petty, not haunted by the dark legacy of inheritance, but walking beneath trees that offer you their shelter, among air that invites you to breathe it.

bough of the lifetree, emptiness walks in the wake of your footsteps, but the scepter of renewal resides in your hands.your power straddles life and death itself. which path will you grasp with all your might?

Darkness gives way to dusk's half-light. A figure strides confidently ahead of him, their bearing proud. Assured. Xander, in all his distinguished glory. Why wouldn't this strange land show him the mirror of all his own shortcomings?

Leo feels the old jealousy well in his chest, claw up his throat, and he almost turns his back on the visage. He blinks, as if to clear the lens of insecurity, and realizes with stark clarity that it's him receiving all that glory. Recognition settles around his shoulders in place of the shadows he once favored.

If he's so beloved, what happened to Xander?

Muscles twitch. Temptation replaces jealousy; if he could just reach out and grab it--

There is another apparition.

Peace unlike that he's ever felt before emanates from the trees. Dappled sunlight hides and warms him in equal measure. He has the freedom to choose between seclusion or attention.

He is not meant for walking in the sunlight. He is not the people's hero. Let them foist their gratitude upon the one born for such a burden. Solitude never bothered him.

The young prince casts one last look at the regal man accepting his subjects trust. Hands clasp behind his back, and he steps toward the treeline.

[searingenvy]

wanderer, where do you stand that these sheer winds lash you so? behind you lies your home, a vortex of meaning that once defined you. before you lies the unknown, but if nothing else it promises to be different. to walk forward is to shed all that has brought you pain and create a self in your own image, even if you must go it wholly, wholly alone.

the soft heat of a fire and the even softer weight of a child's hand; you keep one at your back and the other to your heart. it may not be the admiration of thousands, but it is the adoration of one that peers up at you, wide with love unencompassable. for the time being, it is boundless, yours to claim and yours to protect.

ghost of the end, the shadows behind you lengthen with every step. tread carefully — the wheel does not wait for you before it begins to turn.this you remember clearly. which path will you grasp with all your might?

“What is…?” Wanderer. A title that felt right. Rarely did she feel like she belonged even back in her home in Plegia— while others devoted their lives to a cause they could believe in…Tharja simply did. Because why not? There was no alternative, no cause that felt quite right…and even when the Shepherds took her under their wing, she knew deep down she could not be trusted. Perhaps over time she managed to gain it, forge bonds unlike anything she had ever had.

But those bonds…they’ve made her weak. They open your heart to pain, to suffering— other people leave you completely and utterly vulnerable. The image of herself, alone, but free from burden…there is something that feels right, as if that was the woman she had always been destined to be. That much she cannot deny.

For a moment she reaches out towards it, preparing herself to make a decision without hesitation— but suddenly it falls.

To hesitate is to be weak as well. She knows that. She cannot afford to think twice about what she wants— what she deserves—

But those eyes peer into her soul. The child in her arms knows better than anyone else on this planet about what she truly feels. Her innocent self, not yet sullied by the world— by her own mother— knows that the woman who holds her close would do anything to protect her. No…she would never let harm come to her daughter. Not again.

“…I’ve let her down once before…I will never let her suffer again.”

The image of her daughter is clear in her mind as she steps forward to make her choice.

Because…one must be weak in order to be loved.

[optimismxmagicism]

when the fog clears, when the war ends, when the monsters are vanquished, it is caer pelyn that stands. shimmering amid the mountains at sunrise, an idyllic, rustic reminder of what it means to be free from strife and the noise of the world. here, each day is fulfilling, full of simple comforts, and your magic grows and grows. as years pass, you understand the meaning behind your teacher's words — that the peace of home is to be cherished, and kept from all harm.

those who understand and stand with your heart will know when you have done nothing to warrant rebuke. this is the comprehension you crave: a sympathetic ear, the tenderness of one who will listen. a hand reaches out and ruffles cardinal-red locks of boyish fire. rest your weary head upon this boundless heart, and let the comfort of their endearment wash clean the sands of guilt.

seed of nature, like the ancients before you, your life is everchanging. before long, the world will turn its own hunger upon you.the summer days are long and still. which path will you grasp with all your might?

Two paths stand before the mage, both ever so lovely. Both so very familiar. Past and future. Hope and desire. What is the path the little star, still finding his own light, will choose?

Standing before one door, he sees his future. Joy, enlightenment, passion and hope. That which he reaches out for with all his heart, with the strength gained from all the love he was blessed to receive. This path felt like light. The smell of nature tickling his nose, it was ever so beautiful and ever so welcoming.

Standing before the other door, he sees his past. A comforting hand, warm and gentle. Bringing with her kindness and understanding no matter how hard the world had been to him. The feeling of being understood even when nobody else would listen. A pillar of strength when alone he would’ve crumbled. The reason the little flame in his heart was never snuffed out.

“What.. is it that I truly want?”

To be loved.. to be understood.. that is what he desired, yes. A save haven to return to when everything hurt too much, when everything was too hard. But.. she was suffering then too, wasn’t she? As he grew older, he started to understand more and more of the world. Her warmth, her love.. she gave it unconditionally, even if it chipped away at her own heart.

The gratitude he feels, the sheer amount of love he received despite everything they went through… to keep taking would be selfish. It would mean consuming her warmth until nothing would be left. And the guilt in his heart… it meant that his choice was a difficult one, wasn’t it? To take that away would be to take away someone else’s right to be upset with him. No, he deserves their ire. Letting go of that in a moment of pure self indulgence… would that be what she wanted for him? No, all her effort, all her strength, all her love… it was all to help him grow.

“Thank you…”

For just one moment, in this world where nobody could see, he cried. He leaned into the warmth one more time, and let his tears flow, freed of the masquerade of smiles he wore so often. “Thank you so much… for everything…” For her understanding… for her strength… her wisdom, her love… her hope… all of it, the boy will carry within him until the day he breathes his last.

“But… I’ll be okay now. I’m stronger now.. I’ll show you.”

With a shaky breath, he turned to the other path. The one of his future. He would grow.. he would learn.. he would be happy. That was all she ever wanted for him, right? Happiness.. and to him, happiness existed to be shared. It was his turn to be strong. To take the light she gave him, the light his master taught him to nurture. To allow it to grow, beautiful and bright, so he may give back to everyone who made him who he was today.

A beautiful dancer in red, who gave him the strength to live…

A man with the spirit of a tiger, who gave him the chance to take his first steps..

A woman of steel, who inspired within him what it meant to fight…

A great sage, who gave him a chance to nurture the star shining within his heart..

All of them… they were so very precious in his heart. He’s finally strong enough to give back. He would live the happiest life imaginable, he would see so many beautiful sights, eat so many gorgeous foods, he would share all the joy he found with everyone.

“Watch over me… okay? I’ll make you all proud.”

And with a genuine, grateful smile, the boy walked towards his future.

[adalrikr]

though you are lord pent's child, you were never his son. not as klein or clarine were, but in magic you excelled them both. did that not speak for something? the flame answers to your hand as you face the darkness ahead, and you will give it its answer — whether by blood or founding, he never treated you any different. and so the same should be said for yourself. the darkness roars, and you will give it the proof of your teaching.

ambition sharpens its edges upon you, and though you have never grasped for status, you cannot help but welcome its praises. the presentation of the appointment to mage general is the highest honor to a battlefield scholar of etruria, spokesman to your efforts in spite of humble beginnings. now, yours is the glory of the once-splenderous, before the tide of time yet washes it away.

untempered spirit, let your soul sleep awhile. beneath the glass, the future makes demure and inviting sounds if you listen.before the pines turn brittle with ice, which path will you grasp with all your might?

The darkness overwhelms his vision, and Erk is at once alone. His head swims as the images flash before him. One, a darkness to overcome, a flame in hand. The other, recognition, a future that he wanted so badly to be able to reach a hand out to.

He knows his answer before the question is even asked. He's known the answer all along; hasn't he? He knew the answer before he had even seen this vision. It was the exact reason he was in Fodlan, the exact reason he was here at this very moment.

"... Do I even need to answer...?" He asks into the void around him. He does not get a response. Typical.

Fine then! I want the future! I want that recognition! I... I don't to be unseen...

A small hand reaches towards the vision of the person he could be, the highest praises that could be awarded him. He wants his future more than he could ever speak it out loud, more than he could ever admit to even himself.

The vision disappates before him just as quickly as it had come, but Erk has already made his choice.

It was always clear... wasn't it?

[making-dough]

The Price of Loyalty

♠ - She knew this fight was a bad idea by the time they started it. Maybe it was the way her spear was jumping around in her hands, in a way oddly reminiscent of that encounter in the library. Or, maybe, it was the way this ghost was staring at them that just creeped her out. Either way, she wanted to take whatever curse this thing had to offer and just get on with it.

But, nope. That cheeky little mage just had to rush in and try to fight the damned thing. "Uh, wait, hang on!", Farina paused to stare disbelievingly at the reckless mage for just a second before ultimately deciding that she was going to live up to the Ilian reputation. Never betray an employer, even if the employer is supposedly suicidal. White wings spur outwards as she ordered her mount to spur onwards in an attempt to reach her reckless ally and pull him back to safety but really, in such a cramped corridor, what was she but a big target. Green arrows spread outwards from the ghost's hands and pierces through her body in numerous places, sending her crashing into a nearby wall and staining her mount blood red.

What? Did she expect any other ending? Killed in a death trap that she had no part in triggering in the first place? Story of her life, really. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a boy screaming her name. Why bother. When it came down to it, she was nothing. A pawn bought and sold for gold.

And what else was a pawn than something you could throw away. Speaking of gold, she had saved up so many and she had been more than prepared enough to have made the arrangements beforehand. Even if she were to simply disappear in a place like this, everything after would have been satisfied. Now, the only thing she needed to do was smile weakly and close her eyes, buried under her faithful mount that was to act as her funeral shroud.

As for the outside, perhaps this boy could clear this maze in her place and bring them word of what happened, though, honestly she doubted it, especially if his approach to danger was like that. So now, she really only just had one regret. "Sorry...Fi...Flo...Guess I ain't coming home...."

And then the rest was silence.

[theofficersacademy]

                                        Leo   Farina   Sara   Rafal                               Poe   Tharja   Alcryst   Lucina   Edward                                   Knoll   Ares   Seliph   Ewan　Erk

WEEK THREE: The Refusal of What You Know TASK DURATION: Until midnight EST on Monday, January 22 TEAM TAG: #AOtau2024

Lucina and Ares lie dead, their bodies crumbling in a haze that the more attuned in the group may recognize as an overpowering consumption of magic. One executed by the clean blade Kleio(?) had given, the other brought to death by the sullied blade that had been passed on to Mother from your guileless and hardworking hands.

For several moments, shock and outcry from the remaining fill the formless dark, before it is summarily interrupted.

Those with keen hearing, or still in command of their wits, perceive a disappointed voice like ice. "I thought you'd do well. But you can't even commit to the job."

It happens in less than a second. The clean blade vanishing from Rafal's hand. A sing of steel carving air. Leo tipping backwards, head askew. A fountain of blood. The body crumpling like paper; the head rolling some feet away.

Kleio stands, the weapon in her hand newly wet. "Two of your coterie dead for nothing; the rest would still be infected. I risked my safety for this? None of you have improved."

You blink, and darkness again, where your body won't obey you.

"You came here to hunt a target. I hope you prove less limp about it than you were about this."

HUSH LITTLE CHILD, DON'T SAY A WORD.　farina, sara, rafal, tharja, knoll, seliph, ewan, erk

what you know

previously, the house felt lonely, a little isolating, and foreboding, but at least populated. you knew mother, father, and kleio were present even if you couldn't see them. now, your surroundings are old, peeled, and run-down, as though they've been abandoned for months. the feeling of impending ruin you previously had has blossomed into a sense of immediate danger. shadows have taken up residence here and crawl just out of sight. eyes watch you with malice from where you can't see. you feel as though every minute, you're traveling the landscape of an open war zone in enemy territory, like a place that was once home has lost all its warmth

you understand that in order to find pasithee, you must find the way into mother's room. completing your flawed chaos matter blade may be helpful as well

lucina, leo, and ares are no longer with you. after the events while it was dark, you can only guess they met the same, or similar, fate as poe, edward, and alcryst

no one appears to be newly ill. does that mean kleio was telling the truth after all, or was helping you? hard to say. was that even kleio? if not, who's kleio?

what to do

talk amongst yourselves. gather your bearings. discuss what happened, or don't

retrieve key components from the knave's tower. ( danger level: HIGH ) ( recommended: 4 muses. only one thread permitted at a time ). the materials to assemble the key to mother's room are scattered across three levels of the knave's tower, bathed in undispellable darkness. go with care, however, as the floors there are riddled with traps. and more than that, the tower is the hunting ground of the terrible beast. fall into its clutches, and you might never return

— you are searching for loss, denial, and hope. you know that one can be found on each floor. each floor also contains the ladder to the next floor — roll D3 per post to determine your movement. you may not move diagonally. once you have moved, ping rai. only the contents of the square you land on will be revealed — each time everyone has moved, ping rai. the terrible beast will move too, beyond your line of sight. on floors 1 and 2, it will roll D2 per move. on floor 3, it will roll D3 — equipment, rallies, etc. may be used in place of your own movement for the round — if a character is caught by the terrible beast: 　　　･　when the terrible beast reaches the nearest wall, the character will be dragged away 　　　･　everyone other than the captured may roll a D20 to help save them. you must be within range of your equipped weapon ( 1 range, if none ) in order to make a saving roll. on floors 1 and 2, saving the victim requires a cumulative 21 or higher before the terrible beast reaches the nearest wall. on floor 3, saving the victim requires a cumulative 30 or higher 　　　･　you may only roll once per round ( 1 round = players move, then the terrible beast moves ) 　　　･　the terrible beast is immune to status effects such as freeze, stun, sleep, bind, etc.

forage in the garden. ( danger level: MEDIUM ) you didn't finish everything mother needed last time. but if you're looking for pasithee, completion of the chaos matter blade might be a good idea just in case. be careful though, the gardens are no longer as friendly as they once were, and the world is more and more eager to take from you than ever to finish it, you will need: x3 of each: hammer tassels, little fangs, majestic blues, spotted ones

— roll D4 per post. recruit mastery grants 2 reroll chances 　　　･　1 : nothing is found 　　　･　2 : the scavengers have come for you and yours 　　　　　　　○　on enemy phase, scavengers will use steal on a random target for a random weapon or item, prioritizing equipment before weapons. they will escape the following enemy phase if not defeated 　　　　　　　○　on every 3rd time scavengers have appeared, roll D2. if 2, a master thief will appear. defeating the master thief will reclaim all stolen inventory 　　　･　3, 4 : you've found x1 of a plant you're looking for. apothecary access grants x2. roll D4 to determine find

power the furnaces for refinement. ( danger level: LOW )

— roll D4 per post. 　　　･　1 :  the furnace stops working. Roll D3 to determine the cause 　　　　　　　○　1 : not enough heat. roll D10 to attempt to bolster it with wind or fire magic ( DC6 success ). each full rank in reason adds +1 to the roll 　　　　　　　○　2 : unstable conditions. roll D10 to attempt to adjust the interior ( DC6 success ). each point of dexterity adds +1 to the roll 　　　　　　　○　3 : furnace malfunction. unable to be salvaged. move onto the next one 　　　･　2, 3, 4 : you're making progress — 1 furnace is powered every 3 successful posts ( unless furnace malfunctions, then start over )

search for supplies. ( danger level: LOW )

— roll D6 per post. each full rank in heavy armor grants +1 to roll. each unit with backup grants the party 2 reroll chances 　　　･　1 : nothing is found 　　　･　2 : you disturb something in the house you really shouldn't have. existing leads are reset. roll D20, 10 or below: receive -2 HP. each point of either avoid or speed adds +1 to roll 　　　･　3, 4, 5, 6 : you've found a lead. the next person must roll 3 or higher to continue it 　　　･　when cumulative 10 is reached, roll for what you find: 　　　　　　　○　1 : planks of wood 　　　　　　　○　2 : scrap metal 　　　　　　　○　3 : magic residue 　　　　　　　○　4 : bandages, recover 1 HP per post for 3 posts, out of combat only, stops working if damage is taken 　　　　　　　○　5 : tincture, recover 2 HP, out of combat only 　　　　　　　○　6 : diffused potion, all party recovers 1 HP, out of combat only 　　　　　　　○　7 : combat salve, recover 4 HP, usable in combat 　　　　　　　○　8 : panacea, recover all HP, out of combat only 　　　　　　　○　9 : filament of light, raises max hp by 2, capped at natural hp 　　　　　　　○　10 : cold comfort, raises defense by 1 for one turn, consumed on use 　　　　　　　○　11 : will of resistance, raises resistance by 1 for one turn, consumed on use 　 　

MOTHER'S GOING TO BUY YOU A MOCKINGBIRD.　poe, alcryst, edward, lucina, leo, ares

what you know

whatever procedure poliades subjected alcryst, poe, and edward to in the name of what they were trying to make, it seems to have worked. at least, that's what poliades said as they hand a see-through compartment over to you, inside it a single black lump of shadow ostensibly of your own making. they call it "meliboeus"

previously, the abandoned manor you'd found yourself in was empty, but safe. mundane, even. things are changing, however; even if it hasn't happened yet, a gut feeling tells you this somber peace won't last

three of your companions have joined you. lucina, leo, and ares find themselves waking up where alcryst, edward, and poe had previously

though they don't seem to know what exactly you're after, poliades has explained that in order to go "forward" and find what you're searching for, you must restore meliboeus to full strength

aside from that, there's one more thing poliades would like you to do. the library contains old records of this house as it once was. they would like you to understand how it all ended

what to do

talk amongst yourselves. gather your bearings. share what you know, or don't

search the library for records. ( danger level: LOW )

— roll D6 per post 　　　･　1 : you find nothing 　　　･　2 : poliades' magic has resorted the shelves! existing leads lost 　　　･　3, 4, 5, 6 : you're onto something. next person must roll 3 or higher to progress — when cumulative score reaches 10, ping rai

dredge the cellars. ( danger level: LOW )

— roll D4 per post.  each unit with backup grants the party 2 reroll chances 　　　･　1 : nothing is found 　　　･　2 : you should be more careful wading around. roll D20, 13 or below: receive -1 HP, each point of luck adds +1 to roll 　　　･　3 : you find a token 　　　･　4 : you find one of the list below. roll D#Remaining for which 　　　　　　　○　1 : tyrfing 　　　　　　　○　2 : exalted falchion 　　　　　　　○　3 : nevermeltice 　　　　　　　○　4 : bohr

help meliboeus regain their strength. ( danger level: HIGH ) ( recommended: full party ) at some point, an unknown army besieges the manor. you're not sure where they came from or how they got here, but the damage wrought by their attacks is very real. poliades says this is fortunate, as they'd been otherwise thinking of how to devise an appropriate training regime for meliboeus. once again, he warns, be careful with your existence here

— it is highly recommended to keep an updated log of player actions and what is currently on the field due to the number of moving pieces in this task — at the start, and at the top of every round after, roll 3D5 to determine incoming threats 　　　･　1 : a desecrated one tries to batter into the house, 10 HP 　　　　　　　○　roll D3 to determine how many posts until it breaks in 　　　　　　　○　until it breaks in, the desecrated one can only be targeted at range and will not attack or counterattack. roll as if for full combat 　　　　　　　○　if desecrated one breaks in 　　　　　　　　　　— use full combat if engaging it 　　　　　　　　　　— while desecrated one is alive, it will act according to enemy phase at the end of each round, regardless of whether players targeted it on their turn 　　　･　2, 3 : burrowing squad 　　　　　　　○　requires 3 posts to clear out, narrative-only 　　　　　　　○　if not cleared out by the top of the next round, enters the house. deals 1 HP damage to each character on their turn until cleared 　　　･　4, 5 : airborne squad 　　　　　　　○　requires 2 posts to clear out, narrative-only 　　　　　　　○　if not cleared out by the top of the next round, begins raining burning oil down on all characters. roll D3 each round to determine damage dealt to all characters until cleared — every 4 threats cleared, meliboeus gains enough power to clear the house of all current threats. players are then granted 1 round of reprieve to focus on healing. poliades will also roll to cast fortify at this time 　 　

IMPORTANT PLAYER NOTES. Please read!

if you are still short of the 10 post minimum for the grand prize, use this week to catch up. do not count on the critical interlude and finale to meet minimum activity. 　

you are not required to make sure every task is covered or spoken for. it's recommended to prioritize the plot-important tasks if unable to cover all of them. as before, you are welcome to move your character around through tasks and teams organically throughout the week as befits them. 　

all other notes from week 1 still apply. 　　

if you have any questions or are uncertain how to proceed at any point, ping mod rai.

[starrook]

" . . . if you do not, then it should remain that way." he continues on his way out of the room.

"But what is it?" Alcryst insists. Up until now Poe presented herself as a collected, if eccentric, woman. Yet the mention of chaos matter causes her to lose her composure... he does not quite understand it, but if it's important to her, then he'll take up her lead. "Please. We don't know where we are... what happened to us... If this is hell, so be it, but at least tell us."

"find what means you used to arrive at this place and leave. you have no place here, and i am not responsible for your ignorance." he's on his way out.

“That means dying again!” Alcryst raises his voice, growing tired of these riddles, the stony, emotionless mask. “Is that how you came here?”

the sound of footsteps outside stops. and then, after a pause: " . . . come with me."

Alcryst cannot trust those words again after Meliboeus. He does not say anything, instead he chooses to focus on calming himself down after that outburst. Edward seems keen to follow the stranger, so he looks to Poe instead.

[does a weak peace sign] n..nya... [collapses and dies] // team tau - plague gang

[starrook]

in the distance, the strong walls of your forebearers rise beneath the dawn of a new day. memory sweeps you like a tide, flush with pride, for no matter your misgivings, it's never been questioned that this is where you belong. a father's embrace heralds your return, a mother's love cocoons you. the halls of heroes count you among their number. you will take your name among those who came before and will come after, cherished, welcome, and safe.

when one enemy rises, you slay them. when difficulty comes, you know to weather the storm. when shattered hearts weep alone, you reach with words of understanding. these are your strengths, and this is the world that knows them. the watchers wait in the wings with their many, many eyes, observing your success or your honest failure. they wait for your homecoming in triumph, or perhaps in death.

warbearer, the fields are parched and dry, the deadness already set in. everything is simply waiting for the right moment to come.one match is all it takes. which path will you grasp with all your might?

The prince of Brodia knows the path he must walk.

Alcryst wavers.

(One. Because he knows that he will never be satisfied with merely being told that he belongs. Belonging is more than words, more than actions, more than mere blood ties. It's a feeling he can't ever have doubt in, he believes, and yet doubt is all he fights. Is this love truly for him, or an Alcryst they wish he'd become? To finally have the confidence to welcome their love and acceptance without question would mean everything to him.)

(Two. Because he wishes he could be so sure in his own strengths, to see them clear as day as he sees the strengths of others. To know his virtues and trust that they can be relied upon. To be seen for himself, instead of someone he may never become. There will always be watchers, but at least they are watching him and not a shadow, not the man who came eight years before him.)

Both paths call out to him...

...but would Alcryst be wrong to believe one path will lead to the other?

[pryings]

a murky hall, its flickering shapes lit only by the gritty glow of torchlight off stone's surface, revealing the climb of ancient walls overgrown with rust. these dungeons echo with the solemn silence only sinners know, thick with unfulfilled desires and unspoken histories. you recall the cost of the choices you have made, and you turn your face from fate. history will fill itself, with or without the darkness of your light.

violent flames engulf you, blinding your eyes and lashing your face with heat. eventually, in its retreat, a new picture arises, of the cloaked and faceless you once remembered. they, too, fade, leaving an empty room, worked by your scorched hands. you set yourself to your next task, to your next immolation, taking solace in certainty that this is how you will fade: bound within the travail of existence.

victim of the beast, your origins lie in wildness. countless have walked the road that has laid itself before you, and their erudition did not reach you.this is the way to knowledge — true madness. which path will you grasp with all your might?

a crossroads is not an uncommon place to find a question laid out.

two visions before him, and knoll blinks once. twice. shakes his head as if to clear it. he thinks, back to where he should have died, in that dungeon. the last to be executed. coincidence, or fate? whichever it was, it had spared only him, from among his fellow mages. it had let him lead the way to two of the weapons that could defeat the demon king.

( knoll does not have the emotional depth for feelings like hate. but the stirrings of anger he feels at the demon king for his corruption of knoll's prince are as close as he can get. )

he had tried to wield the thing once or twice, but gleipnir had been heavy as hell, not in physical weight but in the metaphysical, and had tasted wrong on his lips as he had encanted. more suited to a better man’s tongue ( like his prince, perhaps, if things had been different ) he had thought.

it isn't as though knoll hadn't the skill. he had. perhaps not when he had first shown prince ephraim the way to it, but certainly after. but worthiness is a different thought altogether.

duty fits more squarely on his shoulders. the ennui of work without reward. the supplication, if not before a god then before a man. the certainty that there will always be something to do.

one duty was utterly forsaken, however. this is undeniable. he should have died where he was told to die. and yet, he had lived on. it's too late to take that back. he walks on, he must.

though the first is so tempting, a vision of a dungeon calling him forth with the siren call of the executioner's axe, the second choice is the only one knoll can take. he needs to live on, and he will work endlessly, learning all he can, until he drops dead. no matter the cost, any fear of losing his mind, losing himself, is offset with the knowledge that one day, regardless, he shall earn the right to die.

[rafent]

the end has come for you, but you have served your purpose well. all that lies behind you has crumbled to dust, buried along with your name and your deed. you seek no recognition, no accolade, no succor — only the promised end, baptised in memory of the ones you've seen to safety. when at last you shut your eyes, it is the angel of good works who reaches their shining hand to you. peace be the bloodied son, for reparations have been made.

fondness of your loved ones, your sister, your friends. the acceptance of the divine one; the trust of your brethren. far in the distance, even the approval of a father's ambitious eye. in this blooming lythos garden, acceptance awaits with open hand, promising that you knew a lesser love once. your mistakes will be guided here, your failures cooled in understanding. here you have flourished, basking in warmth like the sun.

son of chaos, your footsteps tread heavy with sin. know that you walk beside the shadows of all who bore that weight before you. to end one thousand lives is to create one thousand ghosts. which path will you grasp with all your might?

On one hand, an inexorable death for the sinner; on the other, a new and promising life for the child. The quixotic paradise which he had not even dared to dream into nonexistence, supplied with happy faces untouched by his bloody history of ambition. A space for Rafal among them. Between Nel and the living Divine One; in view of Zelestia, Gregory, Madeline, and Mauvier; valued by their watchful Father; amid smiling brothers and sisters and. . .Nil.

Before he could place his own yearning he stirred first to the awareness of his outstretched hand. Body tugging him forward in want all its own, then falling back, quietly, to its original paces. He rooted his feet as if doing otherwise would leap him into flame, onto hooked fangs baring at him in the form of two choices; between them, a deep and forbearing void he felt to be awaiting his very answer.

". . .Foolish. My choice is clear." Had Rafal been more dishonest, he would have claimed that it had not ever strayed. "I am a dragon among dragons. I will not honor an ideal world, unstained by blood and wiped clean of its unhappy scars. It is the truth and reality I choose. It is the dream already within my grasp."

That at least was the truth. To live an honest life under his true name, to be one half of a long-desired whole, and to hold his sister's regard - these were the priceless gifts already seized in Rafal's hand. He would not drool slavering jaws after a fraudulent sweetness, forgotten of the atrocities that piled one atop the other by his own folly. No, even faced with the wastes of his world, he had not retracted his journey to strength. Never gazed back on what might have transpired of others. Never once regretted.

"From the day I took on Nil's name it was like I—Rafal—had already died. In a sense, I am a corpse walking." A fateful day where all might be redressed with the ultimate deed; his shattered stone and shimmering bones blanketed in the quiet of an unknown sepulcher; he inched closer to the picture of his absolution with one confident step forward. Four winds at his heel. "—that is why I have no fear."

Another step. Another.

"That is why. . .I. . ."

But the fork in the path dissolved before he could surpass it. Blooms wilting, the tranquility of the false garden no longer warmed the back that turned on it. Even release and atonement and rust faded away. All of it, dispelled, as Rafal snapped abruptly from a troubling vision, perceiving that something had been irreversibly decided. Or perhaps, even, that nothing had changed.

[exclted]

˚ · . @starrook asked:

"Lady Lucina..." That's definitely more normal than Emblem Lucina and still offers her the respect she requires. Alcryst hates to bother her, but with how weak he feels... He approaches carefully, a bloody hand covering his bloodier nose and mouth. "I'm so sorry to impose, but could you give me some healing magic? I started bleeding all of a sudden and it won't stop..."

Lady is a title that feels almost as foreign as the last he had used for it. Though she takes little time to ponder it, for the mere sight of him is enough to draw the staff from where it has been wedged in her belt.

"Please, do not apologize." She flexes her fingers, trying to remember how she had seen her aunt do this all those lifetimes ago. "I fear I inherited my father's gift for battle rather than his sisters' for magic, but..."

Lucina uses Heal. Roll: 2; +1HP [Alcryst 3/7]

Light flickers miserably where she holds the staff. Lucina's lips thin into a line. "I... Forgive me."

[princepsumbra]

“Heeeey! Mister Collar man!” Ewan called out to Leo, before he could leave. Not knowing his name yet, he just went with his most noticeable trait: the big collar the man was wearing.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go out? You’re looking a little, uh… unsteady.” He said with light concern in his voice. Ideally he wanted all the sick people to stay, but…

He eventually sighed, before speaking. “Oh fine.. But! Before you go, Take this!” He then gave Leo a small vial with a sparkly pink gel. “It’s healing ointment! We just made it earlier, so it should help relieve your injuries.”

“Oh, and.. you’re going with Ares, aren’t you? …Here, take this with you too. Please give it to him in case he gets hurt as well!” He then gave Leo a roll of bandages, though there was a little bit of discomfort in his tone this time.

Wonderful. It's the over exuberant one again, probably wanting to spout more nonsense about working together and being kind without actually proposing how to accomplish such a goal.

Leo frowns. This new epitaph does little to improve his opinion on the boy. "It's Leo," he snaps, unconsciously touching said collar. Whew, right side out.

He lowers his hands, clasping them behind his back. "Thank you for your concern. I am well aware of my limits. A mere shopping trip will not kill me."

But the sparkly pink gel may be what pushes him over the edge. Incredulous, he raises a brow. The boy is utterly serious, though, and Leo finally relents, unclasping his hands to gingerly accept the vial. Said injuries are of the more internal variety; he supposes he could smear some of the stuff around his dry nostrils for some form of relief.

Attention sharpens on the edge of discomfort. He takes the bandages, filing away that little tidbit for later. Perhaps this young mage doesn't always practice what he preaches.

"I will inform Ares." Another disbelieving look at the vial. He holds it up, twisting it so the sparkles catch in the light. "...My thanks will only be extended once I know this concoction heals the way you claim. Good day."

[optimismxmagicism]

End of Innocence

“FARINA, NO!!”

Ewan cried out as he saw her body pierced by the ghost’s arrows. Why.. why did all of this go so wrong, so fast? They were going to find their friends.. they were going to get out of here..!! But this… he failed to save a friend yet again…

He lunged at the ghost, channeling all his remaining energy into a blast of fire. Just when he fired it though, it vanished.. and reappeared right in front of him. It’s lifeless eyes peering into him. Mocking him.

It was as if time slowed down, before cruelly, painfully, he was ripped back into reality. Several poisonous arrows, pierced through his body from all sides. The mage’s body froze, unable to process the sheer agony he was going through. Then, just as quickly as the arrows appeared, they, and the ghost as well, vanished. They had done their job, leaving the poor boy to collapse on the ground in a bloody heap.

….he was still alive, although barely. He could only breathe weakly as he felt his life’s essence slowly pour out of him, staining his clothes, the floor, his body.. everything was stained red.

“No I still… I still want to.. protect everyone…!” With labored breaths, he spoke, though it was barely beyond a whimper. Moving anything was sheer agony, poison coursing through him, his body burning. But still, he tried to turn himself over, from his back onto his stomach. He had to get up… he had to…!

His arms trembled, the pain was unbearable. Yet he still tried to lift himself with his arms. “I can still… I can… agh..!” He tried to push himself up. But because the floor was slick with blood, he slipped, and landed painfully with a wet thud once more.

Was there truly no way out..? No… no there had to be! He couldn’t give up hope, he couldn’t.. but there was nothing left… he would die here.. alone.. having failed everyone.

“Oh gods… am I really.. dying…?” The bleak realization dawned on him. There was no teacher to save him, no sister to protect him, no friends to rescue him. He was left with nothing but silence in this cold, dark maze. “I’m sorry.. everyone… I couldn’t protect you… please know I… I love you all so much….!”

Knowing he would never see any of his loved ones ever again. The thought he could never play, smile, laugh, and spend time with them ever again… Tethys scolding him or giving a warm embrace.. Saleh teaching him lessons in life.. Ewan began to cry. Through pained breaths, tears and blood mixed. “I don’t… I don’t want to die….” He sobbed, every breath he took burning. “I still.. have so much I want to do…!” So many things to learn.. so many things to see, so many wonderful things in the world for him to find… none of that would ever come true anymore. “I wanted to… spend more time.. with everyone….”

Even when on the verge of death.. his mind went to all the people he loved. Saleh, Tethys, Gerik, Marisa… his family. Ross, Amelia, Erk, Poe.. his friends. Tharja, Rafal, Seliph, Sara, Farina.. Ares, Leo, Lucina, Knoll.. people he wanted to protect. He wanted to become friends with them..

The world began to grow cold. His body felt numb. He knew there was no time left for him. In his final moments, a delirious sort of happiness washed over him. He could see them all, smiling warmly at him….

“Everyone….” He gasped, raising a trembling arm, a final smile on his face, holding out his hand to the wonderful people only he could see now.

“We’ll have so much fun…. Right..? Wait for… me…”

And then everything went dark, as the little star was extinguished.