#t:no prisoners

[nagargent]

Just when she thinks the flames that ought to be her birthright will consume her, return her to ash, he saves her. Sir Forsyth offers her hope, salvation, bathed in the glow of the divine. Perhaps she's being a touch wistful and dramatic, but in that moment he really appears as the perfect hero to her.

Her stance is poor, clutching her injured side as she rises but, like a phoenix she does rise. Given a new lease on life, a second chance to prove herself useful. To protect those who need her.

"Sir Forsyth I--" words don't do him justice. They elude her, leaving her stood silent, eyes wide and filled with awe. "I cannot possibly thank you enough."

She will however try to express the depth of her gratitude with her deeds and actions.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the glint of an axe in the harsh sunlight. Instinct kicks in, spell already tumbling from her lips as she turns to meet her foe head on. Horror slices through her stomach as she realises this is no enemy but Lady Freyja, who misses her by a mile. It's too little too late however, the spell has been cast and it finds it's mark. In spite of Freyja's considerable defences, her magic slips through the shields, targeting her weakness.

Julia's Zealotry activates. Freyja 10/10 HP attacks Julia 6.5/10 HP with Swordreaver. Roll d20: 6! Miss. Julia counterattacks with Seraphim. Roll d20+8: 10+8 = 18! Hit! -3 HP Freyja has 7/10 HP remaining. Freyja has been burned.

"No... my lady! I'm so sorry," Julia's voice cracks as she resists the urge to cry. She's too used to the battlefield to break down like this but it brings back uncomfortable memories. Of a living puppet, attacking her own friends, yet this time no one is pulling the strings. Her actions, terrible as they are, are entirely her own will. If Freyja will let her get close enough, maybe she can at least make this better. "Please, let me heal you. It's the least I can do."

Gofannon uses Wind Caller. Roll d4-1: 0! No damage. Outnumbered activates! Gofannon uses Wind Caller again. Roll d4-1: 1 (x2) - 2 damage Julia has 4.5/10 HP remaining.

A tempest whips around them, silencing her voice upon icy winds. The first phase she endures but the longer they rage the more Julia finds her strength being sapped. It seems like an age before they die down to a gentle, pleasant wind. Shaking her hair out of her eyes, her heart sinks as she sees the state of her comrades.

"Caeldori, Freyja! Please, stay back," Julia pleads with them to take care, to stay out of range of their foes. "We can get through this if we--"

This time she really doesn't see it coming.

A lance pierces her side, sharp and vicious like a wasp's sting. It draws her attention away from her allies, from the giant bird, from the other warriors that await them. There's no defence offered, just the sickening crunch of bone beneath an axe.

Sreng Lance activates Backup. -1HP Sreng Warrior 9/10 HP uses Smash against Julia 3.5/10 HP. Roll d20: 15. Critical hit. -7 damage. Julia has been defeated. Sreng Warrior has been burned.

Like a marionette with it's strings cut, Julia crumples to the floor in an instant. She lacks the strength to resist, darkness already pulling her into it's velvet embrace. There's nothing but an empty abyss, calling out to her, urging her to leap into it. To be swallowed whole and disappear. Put an end to the searing pain, the flames licking away at her skin, peeling it from bone. Let hellfire wash over her, cleanse her to be reborn anew.

Yet fear squeezes around her heart, hope having long flown. When she falls her hand seeks purchase, stability. It catches on Freyja's sleeve, tugging ever so slightly before slipping through her fingers like sand. A plea for forgiveness, come all too late for it to matter. Julia knows she's about to die and the thought terrifies her. There's so much left undone, so much left unsaid. She always thought she'd face the end with more grace and poise, but as she drops, face ground in the dirt she whimpers like an injured kitten. Tries to speak, to cry out for her father to hold her hand, for mother to wipe the tears away. For her dear brother to tell her it's okay to let go, to close her eyes and rest.

No one comes to save her, her voice quakes and moans but she cannot form words. Forsyth's voice registers briefly but it's so quiet now. So very distant. Her hearing is muffled to the clatter and cries of battle, as if her head is being held underwater.

She descends into darkness. Into silence. Desolation.

I'm sorry.

◜  ₊  —  𝓡  ˚  ₊ 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒; team 15, bronze round.

[nagargent]

Julia's chest heaves as she turns the corner as fast as she can, following Caeldori as they weave between tents and dunes. She isn't used to running, especially in such heat but one of their own is captured, at the mercy of their foes. Her mind pictures shadowy figures like Manfroy, a stark contrast to the bandits around them but-- if someone needs her she cannot turn away.

"Professor?" Julia calls out, catching the man's voice. Overzealous and desperate to prove herself useful, she rushes in headlong. Determined to help she doesn't notice what's going on around her until it's too late. "Professor we're here-- AAAH!"

The world around her sets ablaze in an instant, blinding her as she screams out in agony. Flames crackle and roar all around her, everything being too bright, too loud, too much to bear. Instinctively she flings out a Seraphim spell in the opposite direction, hoping to prevent whatever attacked her from giving chase as she rushes away from the flames. Her clothes still burn but a few feet away she can breathe without acrid smoke filling her lungs.

Julia 7.5/10 HP counterattacks Caeldori 9/10 HP with Seraphim. Roll d20+4: 7+4 = 11! Hit. Caeldori takes -3 damage. (6/10 HP) Caeldori's Poison Strike activates. Julia has 6.5/10 HP remaining and is inflicted with Burning.

"Caeldori? Oh no--" Oh gods, she'd attacked her ally in the chaos. Guilt presses on her chest as she turns away in shame, instead facing their professor. Maybe a strong enough spell could break those bars at least... "I'm so sorry. Please, don't worry, I'll heal you once we get Professor Rafal out safe and sound."

Julia 6.5/10 HP attacks Cage 5/5 HP with Seraphim. Roll d20+4: 15+4 = 19! Hit. -3 damage. Cage has 2/5 HP remaining. Gofannon (10/10) counters with Serrated Beak. Roll 2d20: 16. 12. Crit and Hit. -5, -2.5 Julia's miracle activates! Julia has 0.5/10 HP remaining. Gofannon is inflicted with Burning.

It happens so quickly. The bird screeches, it's wings beat out a death march as it descends. Faster, faster, a blur of motion until suddenly it's upon her. Clutches her tightly in it's talons the way her mother does. Snipes and snaps at her with it's beak, sharper than any blade she can recall striking her in the back. It's wings fan the flames around her, burning her skin ever deeper. Blistering, searing heat that overwhelms even the mighty beast that sets out to end her life. Perhaps saves her from the jaws of death, and not a moment too soon.

Fire had always been warm, gentle and keeping her safe in it's tight embrace. A soft caress, her father's hand ruffling hair far shorter than it is today. Tying her hair in bunches with great care, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. Fire had always kept her safe, yet now she cannot ascertain if it means to be her salvation or downfall.

If it spared her just to have the satisfaction of leaving her as mere ash upon the wind.

"S-sorry. I'm not strong enough--" not for any of this, Julia thinks as she wilts in the searing heat. Collapses on her knees as if in prayer. As if she can appease the gods, beg for a miracle. Her vision blurs and the icy tundra and burning fire licking at her skin make her wonder if this is hell. If she's finally been forsaken by the divine. "I can't..."

Naga, save her soul.

@viridescent-lance @foreversnightmare

◜  ₊  —  𝓡  ˚  ₊ 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒; team 15, bronze round.