#heavydraw

[failnaughted]

If she had a nickel for every time she'd been in a near death situation with Claude von Riegan, she'd have two. Which isn't a lot, but it's really weird that it's happened twice. This time, however, it's somehow.... worse. Carrying Claude back to the bunker had certainly been an interesting feat to accomplish, and ensuring that his treatment went swimmingly had been its own type of stress-- but knowing the emotional toll that these events would take on a majority of their group was different. He's harder to read than most, she's come to find; but there's certain tells of his that give his thoughts away. To a degree, anyways. The man is smart-- he knows to conceal just enough to keep himself safe. Shamir leans against the nearest wall, a tired sigh escaping her. Her entire body aches, her muscles burn, and she wants nothing more than to sink into a nice, warm, soft bed. "Is this how you felt before I dragged you to the infirmary?" She mumbled, only the slightest hint of amusement laced in her tone. It's barely there, masked by the sheer exhaustion that encompasses her. "Maybe it's your turn to carry me, then."

Whoa, someone suddenly looks a lot less valiant than normal.

In all honesty, Claude's first reaction is that of uncertainty as to how to feel about it. On the one hand, in a way, it's almost reassuring, in some sick and twisted way, to find out that she is in fact human like the rest of them and will also run out of energy and get tired, instead of simply moving on once the rest of them have croaked.

(What prompted thoughts like that? Best not to ask.)

On the other though, it's unsettling, because if Shamir of all people has had enough, then it's gotta be bad.

Still, he tries to keep up at least a semblance of a high spirit.

"Well, I was out cold. Whether that was a good or a bad thing for me, I leave for you and the witnesses to judge," he offers with his usual playfulness, or at least some of it. He wouldn't want her thinking he's making light of her exhaustion, after all. He's not that rude.

"Hah, perhaps I could, though as a warning, it probably won't be any more comfortable than it was the other way around. Still - if you do need help, let me know. I've got some bandages and whatnot on me."

[craneswings]

For a grounds that had only just barely survived its judgment within the previous weeks, the Training Hall remains in an abnormally functional state. Not to imply that the drums of war have not beat upon its floors, but the rubble that does remain after an initial clean leaves the hall far from unusable. A true blessing for those who would rather not forget the lessons of battle during this age of recovery.

Most would set off for a place far from the Training Hall when looking for a break or some comfort. The same cannot ring more false for Yuzu. As helpful as practicing her sword thrusts anywhere is, the crane had found it more enlightening to do so within secure walls, a lesson the monastery had revealed to her in times prior.

In addition, the mere presence of a hall for the purpose of coaching one’s skills makes for the perfect setting to encounter - and challenge - similar-minded warriors.

That is just the opportunity Yuzu is endowed with upon the entry of the hall mid-nightfall. (The moon had not fully risen yet, so by technicality it is NOT her curfew yet.) Although she came in with plans for her trusty training sword in hand, those plans are immediately thwarted. 

One thump, then two, then three break the girl's thoughts in almost rhythmical intervals. Yuzu turns head toward the source of the sound: targets filled with arrows. Their own source being a quite tall raven of a woman, though she shines more purple than black in the moonlight. She spares little time in reloading for a second volley, leaving the Hoshidan simply awestruck.

There is simply only one way the rest of this night can go.

The sniper has not noticed her existence yet, or if she has, she has decided to forgo acknowledging Yuzu. The student awaits her chance after the next round of arrows have all made their mark, prompting Yuzu to audibly let out a soft cough for attention.

“You. Shrewd sniper,” Yuzu states, pointing at the other with her sword from a safe distance. “I demand for us, a duel this instant!!”

@heavy-draw

no secondscoping, please

a duel for the ages!!

[tigermount]

hi wiz tumblr i come baring scraps of a sketch of my wiz oc :)

im very new to the fandom if anyone wants to say hi 😳👉👈

[niraiti]

heavydraw -> mags2

[failnaughted]

"Professor!" Claude calls to him as the shadowy figure's magic overwhelms the man, his shield not at all helpful against magic. That's how it often goes, isn't it. Mages and armors, more often than not, just don't mesh well together.

They help him to the camp and their nearly dead fire. In what may be his last stroke of luck remaining, Claude finds a quiver with a few spare arrows. They're not perfect with Failnaught, but they'll have to work against the monstrosity approaching them from the darkness. Hugh's magic illuminates the area briefly, showing its disgusting maw. Deterred by the Mage's light, it charges for its next available victim instead - none other than the House Leader, too busy shielding his eyes from the flash.

Foul magic envelops the area, and Claude suddenly feels himself horribly drained.

With a groan, he raises Failnaught and fires an arrow, somehow landing a clean shot even in spite of his state - but when the spell reaches him again, the other arrow he had grabbed simply falls to the ground, followed by Failnaught itself.

"What the… guys… run…"

He hears himself hit the ground somewhere far away, and the world goes black.

Finger Counting (my weapon durability) is More of an Art than a Science

Combat Team 6 | Week 1 WC Limit: 200

[failnaughted]

Fatigue has settled into every inch of her body by the time she carries Claude back to the bunker with the assistance of the others; her shoulders droop, her eyes appear dull and sunken, and her hair is disheveled in the absolute worst ways possible-- and despite her desire to fall on the floor and take the world's longest nap, she perseveres through the exhaustion. At the first opportunity given to her, Shamir takes a seat near the edge of Claude's bedside; she doesn't have much to say about the entire debacle that they've all experienced, and she's never been talented at breaking the ice. But that's always where Claude has excelled, he can make even the coldest of hearts feel warm and welcomed. A dry chuckle escapes the mercenary as she gives him a quick once-over, wholeheartedly thankful for the fact that they're both alive and sitting here in the same room. "... You've certainly looked better, von Riegan."

What in the [Almyran profanity] was that.

That's really the main thing that comes to Claude in the first stage of being, apparently and allegedly, alive, awake and back in the bunker where it all began.

Still, when he hears the mercenary's voice, a quiet laugh comes out of him nonetheless as his tired but still forever sharp eyes respond to her scrutiny of him in kind, and he aptly picks up all the signs that stand to prove she went through the same mess as he did, and frankly came out of it only a little better off.

"That makes two of us, my good lady."

Oh well. There's more important matters at hand than that.

"I've been told you were the one who lugged me outta there. Thanks for that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, and I mean that in multiple ways."

With a sigh, he adjusts his position a little. "Get yourself taken care of if you need it, too, okay? I mean - I'm in no position to be giving you orders, obviously, but y'know. From one hell survivor to another."

A light wince distorts his features. "Especially since I've heard people whispering of getting back out there soon."

[arcelerity]

The thrill of the hunt! Tormod is no stranger to it, and it seems this Shamir lady does as well. Her techniques are that of a traditional beorc huntress, of course, but he can tell by the way she carries herself that she is quite skilled.

Caspar, on the other hand...

"Oh, yeah. I'm looking for tracks and disturbances." Would be easier without Caspar's well-meaning tromping, but he's pretty sure he sees signs of a buck, maybe? A hooved animal to be sure. "There's ungulate tracks in this direction, and droppings that are from a herbivore, so that's probably a good bet?"

He turns to his fellow student, trying his best to brush off his annoyance. Caspar's a cool guy. He just needs to learn the basics of the craft, is all. Tormod isn't the lightest stepper himself, but he is pretty fast and knows how to avoid the brush!

"Caspar, we gotta be quiet and careful about this!" Okay, he said that a little loud, but still. "Think like a cat. Gotta get your pawsteps quiet and keep yourself sharp!"

beasts for feasts || happyland hunting hours w/ team rat

[craneswings]

The sniper remains abbreviated in her word choice, none of said words leaving Yuzu with the answer she yearns for. She can feel the grip about her bow’s front begin to crumble. The sight and sound of her vexations only makes her hands shakier.

“I- I will surrender to stone and grovel at your feet if such is your will!” Yuzu is already midway on a knee, as if to threaten her point. “Please…please, plea-”

The girl’s cries nearly crescendo to actual screams before she comprehends the other’s follow-up. That is the second instance of Yuzu missing her statements just now. Does being a master of the bow make your remarks slip by without notice? Certainly Yuzu has not become that oblivious as to not notice…

“Oh,” is all that comes out of her at first, the sudden realization that comes over a child when being reminded of something obvious. “In it for you. Of course.”

Yuzu puts pressure on her bowing knee to flick herself back up in an attempt to withhold any honor she possibly had remaining. By some miracle, she has been given one shot. But…what would the woman want to spare her a moment of her time?

She doesn’t appear to be an instructor, at least of the official kind. If she was, then Yuzu would have expected to recognize the icy maiden sooner rather than never. That only left her as some type of faculty…but what monastery staff would require such a strong bow hand? Then a knight? Or…

“One gold per target we attempt. I am not rich in coin, but I can compromise for three minimum, five maximum.”

Yuzu finally regains some composure, and even matches the other’s concision to boot. Hopefully that is enough to satiate her previous irritation…

no secondscoping, please

a duel for the ages!!

[failnaughted]

Someone signals retreat; Claude doesn't even register who and when, but it doesn't really matter, does it. Pressing a hand to his wounds, he follows behind the others, making sure not to lose them.

Once they're in relative temporary safety, Hugh patches up his wounds. Claude nods in thanks, but follows the gesture with a meaningful look as he stands up. "Thanks, but you've gotta do the same for yourself, okay? Be careful."

He looks up at Lukas. He wants to say something, comfort him, give him an it's not your fault don't worry about it - but all words freeze in his throat when another unholy screech pierces the darkness, way too close for comfort. So what Lukas hears instead is "Again?", and all Claude has time to offer him is a serious nod, before he's off again.

Him and his three arrows, against whatever that is.

He spots a flying monstrosity, and fires - but it takes two whole shots to kill, and in the meantime, long talons reach for him from the darkness and tear at his side again. A loud growl rumbles behind it -

"Something BIG is coming! Watch out!" He calls, grasping his last arrow.

Finger Counting (my weapon durability) is More of an Art than a Science

Combat Team 6 | Week 1 WC Limit: 200

[craneswings]

“Wonderf-” Yuzu closes her eyes in joy, only to flash them wide open when the two-letter response actually is registered. “No??”

Her pointed sword is lowered, the samurai only now realizes the awkwardness that must've come from aiming her blade during the offer. Even if Yuzu herself must have looked cool while doing it…

With a desperate sigh, she rapidly sheathes her sword and withdraws a lightweight training bow she kept on her person immediately afterwards. Yuzu presents the new equipment in front of her, hoping her real intent can be wordlessly expressed.

“But it is so rare to find masters of the bow so readily displaying such skill. Surely a savant of the bowstring such as yourself would be aware of so.”

Yuzu closes some more distance between her and the purple sniper. She does not worry anymore of being wounded by a stray arrow, as the woman had already wounded her pride enough with her refusal to engage.

“Clearly you are a warrior of virtue… Show me such charity now!”

no secondscoping, please

a duel for the ages!!

[failnaughted]

It's not a comfortable spot for an archer to have three entire arrows left - but he supposes that when enemies and beasts are staring him down with hungry eyes, trying to spare them isn't exactly going to save him.

Luckily, Hugh throws him a spare, and a single glance and feel of it prompts a wide smile on Claude's face. "This one fits great, thanks!"

And without even thinking about putting it in his quiver, he promptly plants it in the shoulder of another enemy trying to approach him, which swipes at him, but then lets out a guttural growl as it backs off. Professor Lukas runs up to his side -

… And then, something hurts. It takes a moment - a moment too long - for the House Leader to realize what happened, and before he can realize what it was, the lancer stabs at him again, and another hole in his student clothes soon fills with crimson.

He tries to meet Lukas' eyes, but backs off the moment he sees - the wide open but unseeing stare going right through him, and the menacing lady in the back, her tome giving off an ominous glow.

"What the - Professor... - let him go!"

Finger Counting (my weapon durability) is More of an Art than a Science

Combat Team 6 | Week 1 WC Limit: 200

[failnaughted]

The moment someone shouts for retreat, Claude knows to start moving. The campfire instantly abandoned and forgotten - perhaps it can serve the next patrol, or perhaps that's just where its journey ends, oh well - he gathers all necessities and follows the other three, ensuring that, above all else, he does not get separated from them.

When they're more or less safe (except probably not really), Claude winces lightly at Shamir's question. "I'm kinda short, not going to lie - but I cannot use your arrows. They're not weighed for Failnaught, so I'll just waste them." Still, in spite of the Everything happening, he gives her a smile and nod. "No worries, though. I'll manage."

And manage he'll have to, as a sudden loud growl sounds right behind them.

"Watch out!" He calls to the others, drawing his bow and planting one of those last precious arrows right in the beast's face. He groans as he takes a claw in return, but runs ahead, drawing it away from his allies. Another arrow, then one more before it FINALLY falls - Crest Beasts are persistent damn things.

Claude breathes, his side stinging. But it's not over yet. "There's more enemies! Be careful!"

Finger Counting (my weapon durability) is More of an Art than a Science

Combat Team 6 | Week 1 WC Limit: 200

[failnaughted]

With tasks split up and everyone on their merry (well not really) way, some scouting and patrolling is inevitably in order. Claude won't lie, the letter with the two pointed out locations gave him the heebie-jeebies, and so he opts to stay out of that and instead help keep their hideout safe.

He ends up on a team with Hugh, Shamir, and Professor Lukas. All very capable bunch, which does give him some sense of security, at the very least.

In response to the teacher's words, Claude chuckles and nods. "Heh, I appreciate the sentiment. Alright, I'll tend to things here - you guys just be careful."

With that, he gets to work. The woodcutter's axe they brought along works nicely indeed, and even with his… average experience in this kind of labor, he quickly manages to chop a lot of wood. He adds it to the campfire, which flashes, sparks shooting up -

illuminating a weird, misshapen, grotesque something not far ahead.

All of Claude's senses instantly go on full alert. "Guys, be careful - there's enemies up ahead! I think those are Crest Beasts! I see at least two right in front of you!"

Finger Counting (my weapon durability) is More of an Art than a Science

Combat Team 6 | Week 1 WC Limit: 200