#thankudeath

[carmennivis]

80 years in the face of eternity

Someone - or something - has been disturbing graves in the monastery's graveyard. The knights are busy with preparations for the monastery's defenses, and so patrols to the site have not been a priority. If you have some rare free time, would you bring peace back to these departed souls? Then find the culprit, even if it means having to spend the night surrounded by the dead.

@thankudeath

The graveyard was cold and silent. The sky was overcast and nearly black, no stars able to pierce through the thick veil cast over the skies. For several nights now, there had been reports of a hooded figure standing over a single grave, the only thing visible being glowing red eyes. Some claim it was death itself visiting the recently departed, others made accusations of grave robbers. Either way it was a hot new topic for gossiping over the table in the dining hall.

Tonight was, once again, one of those nights. Standing in front of one grave in particular, a short hooded figure was playing a song on his flute. But this wasn’t death, no. It was a student, Nils, of the Golden Deer House. He stood over the grave of a recently deceased old nun, playing a mournful song.

Once the song ended, he allowed the last note to drag out just for a little bit longer, before it finally stopped. Taking the instrument off his lips, he began to speak, his voice trembling slightly. “There… I finally got to perform for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do so sooner…”

For the past few weeks, Nils had been assisting in the care of an elderly nun that lived at Garreg Mach. She had no family, and often kept to herself. But she was very passionate about the choir, visiting almost every day when they had practice. It was apparently something she was in charge of, several years ago. By chance Nils got to talking with her, and they found they got along quite well!

She was still recovering from an illness, but they had agreed that once she recovered, they’d go outside to see the wildflowers that are in bloom this time of year, and that she would come see him perform. He knew getting close to humans was difficult, but the woman treated him so very kindly, he.. was looking forward to getting to know her better.

Perhaps that was his mistake. Humans were fragile creatures, living for only the smallest fraction of the time he would. ….she died, only a few days ago, both promises unfulfilled. Now he stood there over her grave, contemplating why he even tried at all.

“You’re all so fragile… why.. why do I even bother with humans…” He said, his voice full of sadness, but also something akin to bitterness, almost. Losing someone hurt. This was exactly why he avoided becoming too close to humans. It.. makes it harder to move on when they inevitably pass. Before it was his time, he’d have to say goodbye millions of times. And that scared him. He already had other humans in his heart, against his better judgment, and the idea that they would all pass on someday, eons before he would… it scared him.

His shoulders shook as his small frame trembled, holding back sobs. Then, he suddenly heard a rustling sound. Quickly turning around, he spoke up. “W-Who’s there?!”

[artificidel]

As Ephidel feels the wounds of the bow knight ease, he finally looks at them with something other than distain. In exchange, there is a quiet curiosity the morph had not felt for him since they first met.

But there is little time to dwell upon it, the battle still rages on, and at the heart of it lies Celephias. She lets out wave after wave of apathy, and it staggers the morph to their knees this time.

[Roll: 12 - 6 = 6; Hit] Ephidel is inflicted with -6 dexterity for his next turn.

Through the haze, they can sense someone near, someone speaking, but it reaches them as though muffled beneath the snow. Their gilded gaze follows the sound and finds Chrom speaking to them, but they can not make anything out through their wavering vision.

The one thing they can sense however is his weakening quintessence, it still clings stubbornly to the prince. Ephidel outstretches their palm, following the only order that makes sense, but this time, it faulters.

 Ephidel 10/10HP uses Recover on Chrom 4.5/10HP [Roll: 1 - 4 = -3; +0, Chrom 4.5/10HP]

It almost feels as though Lord Nergal is pulling them back.

'You were made to destroy,' he says, 'never to soothe. Return to my embrace, Ephidel.'

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[fluxrspar]

In just a night, the four lost bodies are once again found—Holst and Reyson by Selena’s own party, Nergal and Harken by their rest. Four—so are they numbered, when none of them should’ve been. (Had seven been all who were lost; had the killings stopped then and no later…)

It takes not a moment longer for Selena’s senses to dull—an unnatural draw into the recesses of her consciousness. (She had to remain sharp in a moment like this, and yet: she finds she is unable.) All that remains is her hearing and the echoing question:

Will you stay in Rusalka and defend it or will you try and make your escape back to reality?

The first thing that captures her: defend. (It proposed that the village was at risk; its inhabitants and their lives unsecured—including His Majesty’s.) The second thing she notes: escape back to reality.

If she could’ve sighed then, she perhaps would’ve, for whatever voice this was soothed her mind in its phrasing: Rusalka was, for all intents and purposes, not real. If such was the case, then the consequences were not so dire as she had thought—those were not their still living, and those were not their still dead.

(He was not amongst them—not truly, at least.)

And as so, the answer resolves itself: for if the choice was between an idyllic fantasy and harsh, cold reality, Selena would choose life every time. If not for any other reason, then because her work was not complete—employment aside, there was still Prince Lyon, cast into the shadows; Sir Duessel, a bond still in the process of healing. The alternative was to leave it all behind: to take the coward’s way out.

Her vision refocuses, and she recognizes suddenly the presence of various villagers, the last of the Newcomers amongst their ranks as well. Though not immediately hostile, they were armed—they were prepared for battle (perhaps against the Outsiders; perhaps against them). Selena sees the villagers; she hears their question:

Are you leaving?

“Yes.” (It is the only way to make these sacrifices worth it, after all.) In turn, the villagers brandish their weapons, a combat already brewing—so too does the ex-captain; the past emperor of Grado. Selena palms red beads in her hand.

It is not Thunder. (Lightning stung; this—though it would bring pain, it would only be temporary; it would be unlike the relics of the sky’s rage.)

“Your Majesty,” and her eyes turn to Vigarde’s directly, gaze focused and sharp: “I’m going to have to ask you to stand down.” (A battle was inevitable now, what with the building tension—but he did not have to be here for it.)

There is a glint of recognition—both a look that she knows and a look that is knowing—in his eyes when Selena speaks to him. The Silent Emperor was a man who said much with very little; naturally, the Fluorspar emulated him.

(She made her choice, and she would go forth with it—to the end.)

Selena attacks Vigarde with RED BEADS: Roll: 7 - 4 = 3—MISS. Vigarde: 10/10HP

But determination was one thing—she could choose a path, but that did not mean to go through with it would be easy; or possible. (Ability was another.) The bead shatters on the ground.

Vigarde counters with SPEAR: Roll: 2 - 4 = -2—MISS. Selena: 10/10HP

She ducks past the spear that flies in her direction, except—when she looks at its path, the course of its trajectory before it is drawn back, she sees it: had she just stood there, it would have missed her still. Mage pretends she does not realize what that means.

“I–”

A sharp spike runs through her heart—not a physical pain, she knows; not a magical one either, she can surmise. It is a turmoil of emotions predominated by an intense and nigh inexplicable guilt.

ET TU? activates! Selena: 2 Ruin

(It is the same emotion she felt during the assassination attempt—twice now, by her hand and her liege.) It grows—monstrous feeling, swirling and spreading as though trying to separate her from her being.

Perhaps this was how he lost himself—would he again? (She forces herself to relax.)

“We can still have peace,” is all he says.

@ashenprofessor

the brightest shade of sun

team theta week 2 combat

[livingrief]

The meals in the dining hall have been getting smaller and smaller, and less and less extravagant as ingredients are shifted for the use of making rations. The kitchen has banned hobbyist cooks to prevent a waste of supplies, which means, if you’re an aspiring cook, you have to find other ways to procure your ingredients, or if you’re just a picky eater, you’ll need to consult with your allies for creative ways to dress up your rations. Some even resort to making bets and dares in order to force others to give up their portions.

Finn is no stranger to hunger. When the dining hall announces the rations, he feels no need to dress up the food in decorative ways. Why bother? Food was not meant to be enjoyed, at least from his perspective. It was merely a means of getting by till the next day. 

He takes the tray of food from the lunchroom and looks for space to sit. Socializing with others was never his strong suit. If he can, he'd prefer to sit alone. Spending time with others only brought further pain. And perhaps the students were bothered by the lack of delicacy in the food of late and were on edge. No need to add to that pressure. 

Well, he hardly cared. Glancing down to the stew and bread, it was good luck to find this much at least. Spending the last decade on the run, he took what he could and offered it to others. It was far, far more important that Lord Leif and Nanna were fed than anything. His going hungry for a day or so was not remarkable. 

Yet there's a girl sitting out over by the edge, far away from everywhere else. She looks about Nanna's age, but no food accompanies her. Strange. Finn examines her demeanor again. Dour. Gloomy. She was rather pale, too. 

The knight knew not how to express these things well. He approached the other side of the table and set his tray down, pushing it towards the girl. "Here," he said. "Eat this. You'll need your strength for the coming days." [@thankudeath]

the pink in her cheeks

[ephemeralove]

"Princess Eir...!"

Katarina 10/10HP hits Corpse Tree A 0.5/5 HP with Hades at melee range. Heartseeker activates! [Roll: 6 + 6 = 12, -3HP Corpse Tree A 0/5HP] Corpse Tree A has been defeated!

Magic gathers around her as she sprints toward the woman, one arm cast outward to direct her spell and the other readying to brace her. The inky bolt whips forward, as if seeking the tree's dead heart, shadow ebbing over its form as it releases its hold on Eir. It bursts into light with one last withering groan; Katarina staggers slightly in her attempt to catch the princess of death, who despite her lithe frame and nimble grace still certainly outweighs a tome, but ultimately stays upright.

"Are you alright?" She asks, softly as she retreats from Eir's space when she is able. A glance at Saizo. "And... you, too...?"

They look to be, at least, and as she waits for their answers something glitters in the corners of her eyes. Curious, the mage draws closer, kneeling in the grass to get a closer look.

"They dropped... crystals?" How strange. She scoops them into her palm, examining them quietly. "M-maybe we should take these back, too..."

Parsley Sage Rosemary and Thyme

[willowitxh]

That she should be helped was surprise enough, most avoided Thrasir, just as she wanted it. That her saviour was the Princess of Death though? That was much more of an impossibility. Yet here she was. Thrasir let the little Godling say her piece and drag her off. The moment they stopped though, Eir had a simple question.

... Perhaps simple was the wrong word. It sounded simple. But it was not. There were too many questions within the one question. Emotionless eyes stare at Eir.

"You'll have to elaborate a bit further than that if you want an answer," she replied blandly.

So. Eir was here in this Monastery too. More free to run around than Thrasir apparently? Or perhaps Thrasir simply had that kind of personality that naturally made others distrust her.

Necessity Is The First Cousin Of Invention

Open starter for TOA

[pheraesladyknight]

Eir's outburst surprised Isadora. "You..-?" She chose not to ask about motives at a time like this. She looked over at the body-- wishing it was Harken before she ultimately turned and looked away. "Let's just take it. Someone probably moved it so we can do the same." Once the tarp had been thrown over the body, Isadora adjusted the tarp onto the wyvern.

"I'm sorry-- I hope you don't mind." Isadora mumbles before watching Hilda climb on. "Oh-- wait, you want.. ok. I see." She easily mounted herself on the wyvern. She was used to horseback - but this? This was new, so when they landed, Isadora found herself rather wobbly.

"Ah... I see it, it's over there. Just... give me a minute"

Movement -- 1

@thankudeath

battleships but instead of boats it's dead bodies

team theta | insiders | minigame team 1

[ulircursed]

Andrei can count on a single hand the number of times he had been allowed to hold Yewfelle in his youth. Even as it remained dim and unresponsive in his grasp, there had always been a reverence in his actions, each movement done with the understanding that he was holding the most precious treasure within his world, something worth far more than his own life, a dozen times over.

Even wielding it, the full awareness that this could not possibly be real glowing right before his eyes, it is impossible for him to fully discard that reverence.

isadora attacks andrei with steel axe (6): 0 damage andrei hp: 10/10 andrei cannot counterattack!

As Isadora swings her axe at him, Buttermilk reacts as he had been trained, changing direction with his usual speed. Instead of immediately lining up a counterattack, however, Andrei instinctively tightens his grip, drawing the holy weapon closer to himself protectively, ensuring its safety above all else.

A counterattack would've been unnecessary, after all. The shadow of Professor Python guides Forsyth's hands just as his sister's had guided his, except Forsyth does not waver in the face of that guidance. Python's arrows strike Isadora true, as could be expected of his prowess, and the traitor falls without another word.

It is what a traitor deserves. The thought rises, unbidden but true, to the forefront of his mind, a fresh pang of something like grief accompanying it.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, Yewfelle's power flickers out of his grasp, Brigid's presence, too, fading behind him. Compared to the radiance of the sun that had enveloped him a moment before, the dimness of her presence now is enough to render her all but nonexistent to his senses.

He cannot turn to look. He will not. But—

"...Lady Sister?" Andrei's voice is quiet and trembling as he calls for her upon instinct, feeling his world upended again, thrown adrift in the storm that had already taken her away from him once before.

But her presence had dimmed just like Yewfelle's glow, never to be reignited, and she does not respond.

Focus on the ongoing battle, the voice at the back of his mind chides as it always had, but Andrei's hands shake as he raises his own bow against the enemy healer.

andrei attacks mairenn with brave bow (-1, -4): 0 damage galeforce activates! andrei attacks mairenn with brave bow (23, 13) illusory mistress activates! (3) the attack hits an illusory double! mairenn hp: 10.5/15

His first two arrows veer wildly off target, and while he manages to correct his course by his next set of attacks, the image of the woman merely dissipates into thin air upon the arrows' contact.

Useless, useless!

Without accomplishing an attack, Andrei pulls back to a safer range. The weak presence at his back is almost a relief, then. He does not wish to bear her disappointment again.

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[fluxrspar]

When Selena closes her eyes, she thinks she hears music. When, after a moment, she opens them, she realizes she does.

It is the raven’s voice, though he glows now with the heron’s light. It is directed towards Chrom, the mage thinks to herself, but that does not ebb the song’s effects—invigorating and full of life. Though the fight is not over, it quiets in his echo; it feels more peaceful, in a way, even as it grew bloodier by the moment.

And indeed, His Majesty falls next, done in by the force that Forsyth wielded. Even as his lance missed his target, the retaliation of a spear is enough. The song reaches its final note as his body reaches the floor.

Selena watches, and thinks—almost reflexively—that she had done wrong. That if he was to fall, she should’ve succumbed first—that she should’ve fought on his side (though it is not him, she must remind herself). That sickening feeling returns, and she does not resist, instead recalling the notes of an ancient song.

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: ROLL (Selena): 19 - 6 = 13—CRIT. Selena is inflicted with -6 dexterity and -4 speed for one turn!

And it drains her will to fight.

Emmeryn uses FORTIFY: Selena: 10/10HP

But that isn’t fair to them all, is it? If she weighed both sides of the situation—carefully thought over her two paths and recognized their realities—Selena would remember why she chose the side of the nightmares. She would remember that the dream only obfuscated reality; that it could never replace it for it was never real to begin. Wounds of a dream mend over: the reality was that she was unharmed.

Isadora’s partner knight steps away now, perhaps satisfied in his presence and the damage that he has done. Either way, it matters not to Selena; that was not who she wished to fight. (Not anymore.)

Celephais attacks Selena with SILENCE: Roll: 2 - 4 = -2—MISS. Selena is not silenced.

She senses the Silence spell far before it can reach her, darting out of its reach and finding a better position. The goddesses, for all their fighting, were still unharmed, but they were the commanders of these two armies, were they not? Even now, in battles adjacent to theirs, nightmares slugged and crawled and bit, slashing and tearing whatever they could of the dream. Rusalkans possessing dreams of their own fought them all the same.

Whispers of the fantasy leave her allies as well—Katarina, Andrei, the raven, Chrom. And in turn, Forsyth—with all his dreams—finds the companionship of their first deceased. That dream, Selena supposes, was stronger than Isadora’s.

The goddess acts out in return, but there was a mental fortitude built up now—Selena was not so resilient as the first several times she had swayed, but she fights it off all the while, maintaining her focus.

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: ROLL (Selena): 7 - 4 = 3—MISS. No change in stats.

And it builds her will to fight.

“If the gremory is too much, we should focus on taking down her commander.” A goddess, so she seemed, but that wasn’t something so grand, Selena thinks. After all, power was something one could hold in the palm of their hand—the power to change people, to fell ancient monsters and then seal them again—and it could just as easily be lost, should one could clench their fist too tightly.

There is a strange familiarity to the one who strikes before her—there is Eir, and a spirit, and a magnificent scythe, and there is an aura that reminds her of death upon a hill. Just moments before, she had felt content with dying—not to seek it, but if it found her—but now?

She casts Thunder all the same.

Selena attacks Celephais with THUNDER: Roll: 1 - 6 = -5—MISS. (yikes) Celephais: 28.5/30HP

It arcs unnaturally, perhaps a property of the dream; it could also be the way Selena stumbles in the presence of something so familiar—not a warm memory, reminiscent of her life, but a cold, lackluster thing that harkens back to her death. Either way, the bolt does not strike her target, and she hears the descent of feathered wings.

POST-APOCALYPTIC SAVIOR activates! Redirected to Giant Bird B. (Giant Bird B: 10/10HP) Giant Bird B counters with Gradivus: Roll: 16 - 4 = 12—HIT. Selena: 8/10HP

She grunts at the impact, but bears it all the same—better her, who could take it, than an ally who could not. She does not get the opportunity to retaliate against the bird before it takes to the skies again, but she chooses not to fault herself with that.

Patience, Fluorspar. The battle rages on.

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[fluxrspar]

A knight. What were they two but knights, acting out the battlefield as they were commanded? Perhaps Selena was not acting in the name of her liege, but she was motivated by her mission—that she would return to Garreg Mach, seeing her loved ones again being nothing more than something extra on the side. Isadora seemed to fight alongside her most beloved; was he a knight as well?

Chrom follows her orders, attacking Isadora just as she had commanded. He is quick and agile atop his pegasus, but in turn, he receives an axe in his side—Selena is thankful that he is able to safely withdraw.

(To further persuade Ephidel.) Her eyes return to the couple before her.

She watches as they choose their next combat—a fight against Lachesis, one who had been outcast at the end of the first week. Notably, it is not Selena; it is not the raven, who had attacked her first; it is not Chrom, though he had fallen back anyhow. Lachesis, who was, in a way, akin to another knight that Selena knew.

And she watches as she falls.

She watches as their enemies attack them, the opposing goddess wielding unfamiliar, dream-like magic; giant birds descending on two more of the outcasts; the cannoneer arising and firing at Forsyth from a distance; Isadora’s wounds healing over; His Majesty striking the nightmare raven. Selena watches, the flow of battle overwhelming—how long had it been? (Had the arena been for naught?) She had held her own then, but the simulation was not reality—neither was this, but in a way, it was closer. Selena had not been on the battlefield in so, so long.

There is again that distorted feeling—the warp that threatened to meddle with her vision and turn it into something incomprehensible. Again, she resists.

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: ROLL (Selena): 9 - 6 = 3—MISS. No change in stats.

Breathe. (And focus.) Whether she wielded an axe or a sword on the battlefield, Isadora was a threat—all Selena had to do was neutralize that threat. Simple.

She watches as arrows find the rival knight first, undoing the work the enemy healer had done, if only for the most part. She watches as an explosion goes off next, and for a moment—Isadora is obscured from the knight’s view. (And, at the same time, Selena is obscured from her.) The red beads are put away in favor of the more familiar Thunder—

(Isadora had said to fight her as a foe, not a friend; Lachesis’ death, no matter how she reacted, only cemented that sentiment.)

—and the lightning arcs in the Fluorspar’s fingertips, crackling with life and energy.

Selena attacks Isadora with THUNDER (RANGED): Roll: 4 + 2 = 6—MISS. Isadora: 5/12HP

But perhaps it is too loud, too bright—Selena watches the smoke clear as the crackles fade to nothing. She watches as it is revealed that she had done nothing to Isadora.

(Was that all that she could do?) Watch and fail as those around her endured—while she remained untouched, save for the few scrapes she had acquired in the battle prior? She was naught but a knight in a battle against her own liege—perhaps she had been doomed to be useless here, too busy fighting her own internal battle to do anything of substance in the clash.

Or perhaps she had been dulled by idleness, made blunt by a lack of battle. A classroom was no whetstone—it could never be as sharp as war.

…Or perhaps she had simply shattered—she had been overused and lost all strength upon death. Even now, her lightning was barely subpar—her battle sense weakened by lack of practice. She remembers her birthday and its odd premonition; the words that had been spoken against her will before her departure for this place.

Her liege has nearly fallen a second time now, brought to knee while Selena wasn’t even watching. Perhaps she would watch now and meet her end here once more.

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[artificidel]

On the third night, Keranes returns with her army, and it seems as though their final battle is close at hand. The walls of Rusalka yield easily to the might of nightmares, but everything--even their very mission--slowly cease to matter. Victory is nigh, yet the peace of submission and a dreamless sleep is all too tempting.

Purpose is the only thing that has ever driven Ephidel. When the hand of Lord Nergal commanding them was lost, they sought a new master in the Archbishop. It is that incessant need to serve that gives them will at all.

As the walls collapse and the Outsiders charge the village, one of them jogs to the morph's side and gives a hearty slap to their shoulder, grin pulled wide. Forsyth, they recall, as well as the kindness he had shown. Worrying for them as their edges frayed. Ephidel can see that same fraying in Forsyth now, and returns the sentiment in kind. Taking hold of the hand at their shoulder and spilling faith into him.

Ephidel 9/10HP casts Recover on Forsyth 5/10HP [Roll: 6; +4, Forsyth 9/10HP]

The body of Garreg Mach find each other again, and though brief, it is not limited those still of the living. The spirit of Lord Nergal surrounds Ephidel, and they are once again overwhelmed by the warmth of his smile and hands, no matter how ethereal they may feel.

The din of battle is silent behind his Master's gaze of affection. Purpose may be what drives Ephidel, but it was always purpose for the sake of his Lord's love.

Ephidel could have it here... the happiness his Lord wished for them...

Celephais 25/25HP casts Painless World on the party! x3 [Roll: 20 - 4 = 16; Crit] Ephidel is inflicted with -6 dexterity and -4 speed for his next turn. [Roll: 3 - 4 = -1; Miss] Ephidel is unaffected, remaining at -6 dexterity and -4 speed for his next turn. [Roll: 7 - 4 = 3; Miss] Ephidel is unaffected, remaining at -6 dexterity and -4 speed for his next turn.

But Selena's voice breaks them from their reverie. She did not seem to trust them last they spoke... yet now, behind the command of her tone was the softness of faith.

'I trust you to help him out.'

Then further, the voice of another--Chrom--pleads for Ephidel's aid.

'...we need your help! ... We need you! ... Please, you're our... only hope... I beg you...'

... Ephidel turns to Andrei. They hate him. They hate the distain they always see when his eyes are pointed towards the morph.

Perhaps Lord Nergal wanted happiness for his creation, but joy... joy was something Ephidel could not understand.

Fear however, fear was something they knew intimately, the same fear of death painted across the man's features. Even if it was just the illusion of love, the illusion of purpose, Ephidel could not fulfill it.

They may be a failure as a morph, but maybe they could be a success in something else. Something small, but real.

Palm outstretched towards the bow knight, Ephidel fulfilled their new purpose sworn to the church. To heal the broken.

Ephidel 9/10HP heals Andrei 3/10HP with Recover [Roll: 15 - 6 = 9; +4, Andrei 7/10HP]

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[fluxrspar]

The skirmish picks up, both sides embroiling themselves in battle; swords and axes, bows and magic—all dedicate themselves to harm, injury, death. The villagers fall, innocent—though they wielded weapons, this was not their calling: not truly. They fought to protect their home; they fought for peace.

(Funny, how wars were waged by the same name.)

But where Selena waits, senses, feels—the battle rages on; her liege attacks her fellow professor, and the snapping of chains as it flies and then is drawn back returns her to her senses.

Steady, like stone—she breathes until her focus is sharpened like a whetstone; as the spear returns to him, Selena darts forward, another bead in hand:

“Please, withdraw.”

Selena attacks Vigarde with RED BEADS: Roll: 18 - 2 = 16—HIT. Vigarde: 7.5/10HP

And it crashes against his armor, an explosion of light and mist hued red like an angry sky—the clouds dissipate, wisping away like the thought of more idyllic days, and when it clears:

BELOVED activates! Vigarde retreats from the battlefield.

He is gone. (As he should be; as he was.)

It is then that Selena realizes the state of the battlefield—the other Newcomer has already withdrawn, leaving just the remaining villagers (5 of them, she counts, as one has already fallen to the ground, motionless). Her allies were handling themselves well, though she does not recall Andrei getting so injured—another pang in her chest, exacerbating that already uneasy feeling.

ET TU? activates! Selena: 3 Ruin

You’ll be fine—just hold yourself together. (Like shards of stone, threatening to scatter—she could melt them back into place if she so needed.)

the brightest shade of sun

team theta week 2 combat

[fluxrspar]

The battle ends, Andrei’s arrows taking down the last of their foes—innocent, so she thinks, unarmed and merely standing there—and at last, Rusalka’s walls open to them. They are free to leave, if they so wish.

They do not have to; for as soon as it concludes, the walls are overrun—monsters not unlike the nightmares of a few nights prior soar over, reaching and crawling and making their way into the village to meet Rusalka’s defenses. With them are the rest of their allies, Selena notes—though some have since taken on a form akin to the nightmares themselves; most also are accompanied by the since deceased—just as Holst and Harken had changed forms during the fight just prior.

The Fluorspar notes how they fight alongside each other—perhaps their deaths were just a blessing, waiting for the perfect moment to unveil itself.

As the battle flows, two figures take the center stage—god-like beings both in command of rivaling armies. It is an ancient battle, so the mage surmises; one where they know each other’s strengths as well as their own weaknesses. Rusalka takes a distorted shape in the wake of the battle they wage.

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: Roll (Selena): 15 - 4 = 11—HIT. Selena is inflicted with -6 dexterity for one turn!

It does not hurt—it was painless, really (just like that grave acclimation; that terrible feeling that grew each time she had attacked). It merely warps her perception, shifting it into something difficult; a thing which she must work to understand.

(Then again, the whole world was difficult; Rusalka was made of memories, was it not? Nothing of it was new.) 

Her allies first take upon the boy—he wears a boy’s face, but how long has he lived, really?—and Selena does not in them take fault; the cannon he commanded was no weapon to take lightly, like the ballistae and onagers Selena was and had grown accustomed with. Even still, the captain falls first, taken single-handedly by Forsyth’s ability. Likewise, a bishop is the next to fall—Andrei nearly finishes her off himself, assisted by Lachesis and Selena’s fellow professor. Already, before she could act: two—and another greatly injured—

…of likely many more.

PROFESSOR'S GUIDANCE (Byleth) activates! All allies dexterity +2!

But such is war, is it not? Selena had made peace with that when she first left home for Grado Keep; when she made her oath; when she trained in the art of the kill; when she was solidified as the Fluorspar.

(And who did she replace in the Imperial Three but a man exiled for the slaughter of innocents?)

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: ROLL (Selena): 3 - 4 = -1—MISS. No change in stats.

She does not allow the illusions to obfuscate her vision further, even as the seamstress tries—

Celephais uses PAINLESS WORLD: ROLL (Selena): 4 - 4 = 0—MISS. No change in stats.

—and tries, Selena does not allow herself to fall victim again.

Irises dart about the battlefield, assessing the situation and deciding Selena’s best course of action. In the action, two observations are made: first, that amongst everyone fighting alongside them, Andrei was by and far the most injured; second, that amongst everyone fighting alongside them, Isadora was not one of them.

Perhaps, this, too, was another of grief’s agents; perhaps, if this had been before the war, Selena would’ve been inclined to join her. All the same, their choices placed them opposite to each other, and though Selena could not claim closeness to the other knight, the predicament felt overly familiar in a way she had yet to come to terms with.

She steels herself as she had then, determined in her course of action.

“Ephidel!” Fluorspar calls first, eyes locking on to the church’s deacon. “We have an injured,”—head points towards Andrei, clearly meaning him though not saying his name. (She has the sense that if she did—that if he was alerted to an inkling of assistance—he may resist in some way, just as he fought them in the village’s alleyways.) “I trust you to help him out.” (That is all she says before she meets her rival knight.)

“Isadora.” She speaks before determining her words, but she is certain that she must say something. (Why she was doing this; how she could make this choice; whether she’d be able to live with the consequences of her decision—and whatever became of this battle.)

“I would ask that you rejoin us or stand down.” Selena doesn’t ask any of those things.

Instead, she takes hold of another bead, letting it imbue with her own magic in the hopes that she may make this encounter quick.

Selena attacks Isadora with RED BEADS (Ranged): Roll: 5 - 2 = 3—MISS. Isadora: 10/12HP

She knows her aim is true—decided on non-vitals to avoid long-lasting injury (especially to avoid Isadora’s death), but the circumstances bid otherwise; it is the determined warp from the goddesses’ fighting; the lingering emotion Selena made of her liege; the sudden thought of turning a weapon against an ally—a traitor, perhaps.

Then again, the last time she made a traitor of someone—or so she was told—she was incorrect.

Eyes again scour the battlefield, looking for one unoccupied—they settle on another head of blue: both swordsman and magician. Chrom, she recalls his name to be from introductions, and so:

“Chrom! Assist me in disarming Isadora!”

@ylisseanstar

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[ulircursed]

He would've continued to fight, even with these wounds. Could have, allowing his willpower to push him onwards until the end of the battle. It is what he had done, and must continue to do.

Unbeknownst to him, a choice is made within the heart of another, in that moment.

ephidel heals andrei (9): +4hp andrei hp: 7/10

Buttermilk comes to a stop, snorting at the glow of warm light surrounding them, Andrei's grip on the reins tightening in response. The absence of pain is suddenly more pronounced, more noticeable than its persistent presence, and he turns to seek its source, eyes landing on the most unlikely of targets.

Ephidel, who had only ever regarded him with that unsettling, inhuman smile throughout their many meetings, until the point where their eyes had met and he had seen the raw, human rage within them. When the other had turned away without another word, dragging the body of his most important person away from the direction of Keranes' will, Andrei had not stopped him, thinking him beyond reason.

And yet, he wields faith in his hands like a balm, and he had willingly expended those powers on Andrei, of all people. Had he so thoroughly misjudged Ephidel? The gaze that lands on the other is, for the first time, full of a bewildered intrigue, instead of his usual mistrust.

(Perhaps it is not evil that lies beneath such an unsettling visage, after all.)

His attention is quickly drawn away by the enemies' attacks, and while he remains away from the thick of the battle, range providing safety to avoid the notice of their foes, he still bears witness to each act. To Isadora, wielding in her hands the very reason she chose to stay behind, cutting down a former ally even while muttering denial of her intentions. To Katarina, taking ahold of the same power of her devotion to another and using it to cut down the child in their path.

celephais casts painless world! (17) andrei is inflicted with a cumulative -8dex and -6spd!

The harsh weight of the battle falls upon him once more, the despair of paradise slipping through his fingers as it had so many months prior pounding steadily in his mind. What had been so important that he'd wanted to stay? What had made him want to stay, even this time?

There is still another Newcomer facing them, besides Isadora and the man acting as her sword. The two professors remain without a phantom at their side, and one among the enemy had already fallen. If breaking each of these bonds once and for all is the only way to complete this mission once and for all...

andrei attacks vigarde with brave bow (9, 6): 7 damage vigarde hp: 0.5/10 vigarde counters with spear (2): 0 damage andrei hp: 7/10

Just like Tieve, the Newcomer clings to life by a thread, though the spear he tosses in retaliation clatters to the ground feet away from him, splashing the ground in crimson from where its own wielder's blood had stained its handle. Still, he yet lives. Still, Andrei is not strong enough.

What will be enough?

The presence at his left grows near, he can tell, but he does not turn until a shadowy hand emerges at his side. Lady Sister Brigid smiles at him, holds out Yewfelle for him to take.

Wh— Ah. The confusion lasts only a fraction of a second before dissipating in the face of logic. This — this is the proof that he'd sought, that this Rusalka is no more real than the one of his memories. That Lady Sister would acknowledge him, care for him, even after all that he'd done... it is unthinkable that this would be reality.

But is it not the happy illusion that you wanted?

Andrei reaches out to grasp the illusion's remaining shreds of kindness, fingers closing upon the handle of his Lady Sister's prized holy bow.

andrei synchronizes with brigid! yewfelle activates! +1hp to brigid/andrei andrei hp: 8/10

Power, unlike anything he'd ever known, could ever know, coursing through him, a new and seemingly endless font of strength like a foreign limb, now seamlessly attached. Yewfelle is warm in his hands, and he watches, silent and reverent, as the glow spreads from the tips of his fingers forward, forming the arrow of light.

Each tale, each detail of Yewfelle's power had been etched within his mind and heart since he was a small child. He had seen its glow, first in his father's hands, and then...

This is the first time, however, that he is the one holding this light.

(The shining tip of the arrow is so close to his heart. He is not allowed to waver, despite that.)

This is a Crusader's strength and conviction, placed in his unworthy hands.

He feels himself slipping into position without conscious decision (like a pair of patient hands laid upon his smaller ones, guiding him into position once upon a time), pointing Yewfelle towards Isadora. How fitting, that its attack is meant for an ally turned traitor, a killer of one of their own. Fingers draw back the string — it weighs nothing at all, an arrow of light, then another, forming and streaking towards its enemy.

andrei attacks isadora with yewfelle's hunter's volley (9, 17): 6 damage isadora hp: 6/12 pursuit does not activate!

He had meant them for her heart, yet both had missed their mark. The next arrow fizzles into nothingness upon the bow, and he lowers it.

...Had he wavered, after all?

murder is a long-term investment

team theta | week three

[ephemeralove]

Whatever hesitance had allowed Selena to strike first, the villagers quickly do away with. The man Katarina had attempted to disarm is instead marked for death, the axe that whistles past his chest only clearing the way for the arrows that strike his heart. He crumples as corpses do: with neither grace nor dignity. There is no stopping things after that.

Andrei is as relentless with his enemies as he is with his steps, and the princess of death just as merciful; the rest of their party follows in each other's wake, one after the other, meet the once-innocent villagers of Rusalka with bloodshed of their own making. Again, Katarina is minded of how instant is eternity on the field of battle. Scarcely has it begun and already, those she traveled the back alleys with strike worry into her heart.

But she has to stay calm-- has to take the measure of their prowess in these fleeting eternities and put her trust in them, that she might play her efforts in the place where they will matter most. The speed of a draw, the range of a weapon, and the strength of the one behind it --

Katarina 10/10HP hits Villager B 10/10HP with Hades at melee range. Heartseeker activates! [Roll: 19 + 8 = 27, -3; Villager B 7/10HP] Lifetaker activates! +1.5, Katarina 10/10HP

Her gift has ever lain more with fire than with steel, and so she knows the boons of a mage as an ally just as well as she knows the dangers of them as a foe. Just as before, she darts in close-- far closer than a mage typically should, but it works. Her opponent reels back, unsettled, blood and darkness oozing from a stripe she's seared across their arm.

Villager B 10/10HP counters with Mire. [Roll: 9, -1.5; Katarina 8.5/10HP] ; Katarina is inflicted with -1 defense for one turn. Poison Strike activates! -1, Villager B 6/10HP

It is not enough to save her from retaliation, a silent gasp escaping her as mire catches her across the shoulder. The unease seeps into her bones, underneath it something keener, something foul, and the power she wields begins to feel terrible.

Et tu? activates!  [Katarina 1 -> 2 Ruin]

But this is right. It is right.

the brightest shade of sun

team theta week 2 combat

[ulircursed]

It does not escape Andrei's notice that his allies seem to falter slightly after every attack not done in mere retaliation, the follow-through on their physical weaponry less steady, their gazes connecting with the villagers' a second too long. Whether it is because they are actively attacking the very people who had offered them peace, or some other discomfort about the situation, he does not know.

All he knows is that he does not share in that unease.

There is a fascinated disgust that comes with the observation, peering inwards to the rotted, festering core of his own being irrevocably blighted by the crime he had committed against his own blood.

(Crimes, now.)

It makes sense, in a way. Why would a monster capable of turning his hand on family, over and over, be affected by the murder of innocents?

(So it had been with Chalphy's army, so too is it here.)

andrei attacks villager b with brave bow (23): 3 damage villager b hp: 0/10 villager b is defeated! final attack is nat15. obligate heir is activated!

The magic-wielding enemy falls to his arrow before they can make an attack, and perhaps there should be some relief in their death, in the fact that dark magic will no longer ravage the battlefield. But Andrei feels only numbness, as though even the still-bleeding wound in his side had ceased to exist. There is still an enemy here. This is not over.

If escaping his nature is impossible, the thought pierces him through the haze, then perhaps all there is left for him is to embrace that monstrosity. He raises his bow against the final villager, a younger-looking man unlike the others.

He is weaponless, here only to encourage his now-fallen allies from the sidelines. Alone and defenseless, there are so many different ways they could disarm him, neutralize him as the nonexistent threat he already was.

Andrei raises his bow anyway.

galeforce activates! andrei attacks villager f with brave bow (12, 12): 6 damage villager f hp: 6/12

The villager does not move in the face of the onslaught — run, Andrei nearly wants to say. Retreat, as those Newcomers had in the face of their loved ones. The battlefield is not for blind courage or defiance. There are no heroes here.

...Fine then. Die, if you must.

defiant speed! andrei follows up (25, 21): 6 damage villager f hp: 0/12 villager f is defeated!

The final villager falls without a single word.

Andrei nearly wants to laugh again at this, or perhaps cry. He does neither, of course. He'd spent his tears on Lady Sister Brigid, an act done not so much in mourning — for how does one grieve something destroyed by his own hands? — as it was in despair, over the point of no return, over a choice he'd made once more, an echo of the arrow that pierced Ring's heart so long ago. A choice that he'd wanted to be saved from.

(A choice that she'd saved him from, before. Would that she could've turned the poison onto him as well, this time.)

Perhaps it is fitting, that the monster never truly dies.

the battle has ended!

the brightest shade of sun

team theta week 2 combat