#toaboel2025

[twistedisciple]

there he is.

the final boss.

the tyrant of tyrants.

(she might have forgotten his actual name.)

but she doesn't need his name to squint and stare at him from what she thinks is a safe, inconspicuous distance. very ominous... so he had chosen the banner of the blue lions, had he? what sort of mutany from his muscled madness was this? then at least for the duration of the battle, that made him... a double enemy!

bernadetta has no sweet, delicious treats. not for the wicked rat king, no.

but could anyone possibly guess what she had instead? she'd made it special. she'd made it in a magical storybook, of all places. (which made the actual potency of the concoction questionable, as a result, so more than likely ineffective—but she didn't know that.)

bernadetta lays low and waits, twigs in her hair and war paint on her face. she waits for him to take the absolutely-not-suspicious loaf of bread she had lain out just for him, right in his path, among the rest of the medical tent's amenities.

but something entirely unexpected occurs. in front of the rat king a boy charges, clad with crumbs and the colors of an eagle, and triumphantly scoops up bernadetta's booby-trapped bread from the ground. huh?

the bread burglar is shouting something she can't make out about his spoils, but by then the rat princess has accepted hopeless defeat. utterly foiled, her face plops into the ground.

It's a good thing someone notices the suspiciously placed loaf of bread, because Griss doesn't. Not at first. Not until a generic looking Black Eagle comes flying past him and snatches it up like he's reuniting with some long lost love. Griss stops in his tracks because it feels like a step further would be interrupting whatever this kid has going on with his late lunch.

"There you are!" the student says almost lovingly. He strokes a hand tenderly down its browned sides, then cradles the whole of its freshly baked warmth in his arms. It's all there in one piece, no slices lost or nibbles from the rats, so he dashes away just as quickly as he'd come. Usually the subject of all manner of stares and whispers, the ink-stained Hound that'd been left in the dust as if he hadn't been standing there at all watches him go with perplexed snarl.

OK, weird, but Griss has seen more than his fair share of weird things in his lifetime. He is, of course, one among them. So he brushes his fingers the rest of the way through his hair (the kid had surprised him right in the middle of pushing it back past his ear) and takes a step to carry on his way. But there in the distance some mopheaded, twig-covered girl falls face first out of some bushes. She's also wearing the uniform of the Black Eagle house.

Didn't she look familiar--? He stares under furrowed brow. That confused grimace on his face hasn't let up either.

Well, he can't really tell. And he doesn't really care right now either. She scrambles back into the shrubbery before long, like a-- Rat Princess? What was up with all these kids?

"Lord Rafal's teaching a house of weirdos."

Said the pot.

Speaking of which, he still needs to find him. Off he goes, leaving the tent and its nest of strange birds behind.

[gentleaureole]

@radiantpaths; Ike is fine, all things considered. Sure, he lost, but it was a fake fight. He comes out of it with a couple of scrapes that he can walk off. His pain tolerance is pretty high. Yet here he is, in front of Rhys, as if the minor injuries are worse than the time he'd dislocated his shoulder (and kept fighting). "You mind patching this up for me?" he asks. He should feel bad that he's lying and he does, kind of. Not enough to stop himself.

Rhys isn't surprised when Ike shows up to ask for healing for mere scratches. He's been doing this for so long that Rhys doesn't remember when it started, but he does remember thinking at some point that, rather than healing, Ike was there for something else. Maybe someone to talk with or to have a moment of peace. He isn't sure, Ike never says, but Rhys never asks.

"Sure, Ike. Take a seat." He gestures to the cot that's been set up for patients (Ike counts, right?) and when Ike sits Rhys offers him a juice box.

"There's a woman passing out juice boxes. I asked her for one, I was feeling a little light headed, and she gave me two. So, here."

After Ike accepts it, Rhys picks up his staff. "This mock tournament is really kind of interesting. I've never heard of anything like this back home." As he speaks, he places his hand over the scratches that adorn Ike's upper arm. The familiar surge of healing magic comes forth and, when he removes his hand, the scratches are gone. He squeezes Ike's shoulder affectionately before pulling away.

"All of this energy makes me want to get up and go see all the matches, but then I get tired." He laughs sheepishly. "A lot of people come by the med tents though so it works out."

Which led him to what was really on his mind, as Rhys realized maybe he had rambled a little too much. "I know you're not continuing to the next round but…if you plan to go around and spectate the matches, I'd love to go with you. You know, I think I'm getting better at telling how well someone wields a sword after watching you fight for so long."

[heavy-draw]

"m-miss shamir! did something bite you?!" a delivery of bandages in hand, bernadetta's jaw to the floor—and she's thinking it's an animal, but oh, the irony. if garreg mach had a gold coin for every time a purple-haired student had bitten someone else in the past year, well, it'd be a very odd few coins. "noooo! speak to me! was bernie too late?! don't tell me we lost you to rabies! nooooo—"

While she graciously accepts the offered bandages, Shamir is already waving her hands in a desperate attempt to calm the other girl-- she's wholly aware of how quickly Bernadetta's imagination can spiral out of hand, and this weird ass situation certainly will do neither of them any favors. She doesn't want to have to explain to the faculty-- to anyone, actually-- why a student that wasn't even participating in the fighting passed out on her. She also doesn't want to have to carry that limp, lifeless body to someone who will FIX HER. "No, you're-- Bernadetta-- Listen to me--" It's futile, as she expects. What does she do? She's never been good at this kind of thing. Instead, she sucks in a sharp breath and raises her voice to where it booms throughout the medical tent. It's the only way she can think to get through Bernie's rampaging thoughts.

"I DO NOT HAVE RABIES."

The entire medical tent falls silent. Nobody says anything. She's pretty certain she could hear a pin drop in the distance with the complete lack of any noise present. Suddenly, she wishes she did have rabies, because at least they'd put her out of her misery then. "T.... Thank you, for the bandages."

[duchaisruin]

🧃"Another one knocked out by the same archer?" Camilla raised an eyebrow. "What do they feed those kids in Valentia? Here, take this. It'll make you feel better."

"Do I look like I need someone's mommy? Piss off, woman." ...

"... Shitty punk got fucking lucky. I'll knock his teeth out."

[princessmacedon]

Ferdinand finds maria shortly after the battle, his steps lighter, as if not wanting to intrude on whatever thoughts she might be gathering. when he speaks, his voice is notably softer, more attuned to her presence. "you did exceptionally well, Maria. I mean that sincerely."

he glances toward the sky for a brief moment before turning back to her. "there is an artistry to how you fight. a kind of brilliance that is uniquely yours. i was honored to witness it firsthand." his usual fervor remains, but there is a warmth to his words, a genuine appreciation beyond simple courtesy.

"but tell me—have you received proper care?" his brows furrow just slightly, his concern not pressing, but still present. "it is one thing to shine in battle, but quite another to endure it. I would much rather see you continue to shine, unhindered."

there was an apology already on his lips. "I am sorry." he bowed his head. "I really, really am! please allow me to make it up to you."

Ah, but is there a better way to a Macedonian's heart than a compliment to their battles? (Yes, in Maria's case, but there is still a ticklish cocktail of pride and gratitude that swells in her chest to hear it.)

"Hee hee... really?" One might think that laughter cheapens the sincerity or impact of such earnest praise, but then how is one to express joy? To release all the warmth and delight that has bubbled in her chest? It simply slips past her lips and through the slivers between her fingers, held up to her mouth.

The appreciation is in her eyes, soft like the setting sun rather than the round, clear moon. Any semblance to her siblings is one she delights in, savoring those rare times it is found. After all, she is more magician than martialist! But Ferdinand is earnest; little as she knows him yet, she knows this certainly.

"Thank you! It really... really makes me happy to hear that!" Fingers slip down, hooking on her chin, smile revealed now in full. "And you keep your heart when you fight! Right where it belongs, hee hee." Pulled like a flower to the sun, her head tips back, laughter on her lips to match the apology on his. "I think that's something wonderful, Ferdie. Keep it with you, okay?"

He should not feel guilty for doing as he had promised to do -- as Maria, too, knew would happen. Rather, she thinks it is something to be proud of, to keep heart, sense, and duty in balance and feel the weight of all. But he apologized then and he apologizes now, so shouldn't she offer him some sort of absolution?

"Hmm... I guess I'll forgive you!" (An obvious, mischievous wink at that -- and if that is not enough, she punctuates it with a peal of giggles.) And if still that is not enough, she rests her chin on the point of her finger and turns her head, mirthful all the while. "Hee hee... it's really okay, I promise! But, if you want to make it up to me..."

Finally, hands swing clasped behind her back.

"...then think about what your favorite cookie is. Pretty please? Oh! And your favorite tea, too! You have to promise me, okay?"

(Another laugh; he does not have to promise, not really.)

"Then when I've gotten a check up and you've won your next round, you'll tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine!"

[hresvelged]

"Edelgard, I don't..." Think I should be here, especially when you did much more for the team and for the Black Eagles.

"I won't let you down."

"Good." It's a simple answer. The resolve is heard. She helped create a path of thornless roses; a walkway for the Black Eagles. She wants to see it used even if she is no longer the one to place her sword on its side and stand centerfold in the field.

She will observe. She will stay attentive— Watch, then, as his command takes the field once more. A finger saunters to smooth out her cape; another settles at her side. "I will be watching."

[crookedorel]

BERNADETTA SNIVELS AND BLUBBERS UNINTELLIGIBLY AND STARTS WRAPPING BERKUT WITH BANDAGES AS SOON AS HE GETS TO THE MED TENT. BERKUT MY SCARY AND COOL BUDDY BERKUT. SPEAK TO ME. BEKUT SPEAK TO BENIE

The walk to the medical tent was almost more embarrassing than the short time he spent on the field, with as long and as public as it was, flanked by two white clad priests who escorted him into the medbay and to a designated cot, firmly insisting he seat himself while they prepare healing spells and supplies.

It was certainly enough time for him to spit his irritation to them, that he was fine, that the wound cleaved to the meat was merely superficial, a scrape that a true Rigelian would shoulder with the stoic mien of their heritage, which they took in patient stride and wagged a finger in his face before disappearing.

No sooner their departure, another shuffling figure appeared by his side, and Berkut almost did not have the time to acknowledge who or what it was before it began to pile and wrap thick pad of gauze over him, indiscriminate of the wound itself or its proper care, and leaving a thick trail of tears and snot along the untorn shoulders of his tunic.

Finally, the fringe of violent violet poked out, and Berkut hissed out a baffled, "Bernadetta?" before something more unkind and less directed could escape his mouth.

"Child I am fine, this is - AH - !" A press too far split the wound deeper, though he jerked it from her sight, lest she find herself in even deeper a tizzy over it. "Calm yourself, I've borne far greater than this. Look, it's almost stopped bleeding, do you see?"

It hadn't, comparatively, but if he pressed the pad of gauze just so, it might pass convincing.

[nabataprophet]

She almost misses sight of her, quiet as every other time Yunaka has seen her. It's only out of the corner that she catches sight of a familiar purple that she remembers carefully running her fingers through a few moons earlier. Yunaka pauses on her path to where she's meant to be and turns, sharply, to go over to her instead.

"Not hurt too badly, are ya?" She's got half a mind to tease her about keeping her hair off the ground during battles, but she decides against it. She's not sure how much the wins and losses matter to Sophia, and she doesn't want to accidentally press down on a sore spot.

One of her many (stolen) juice boxes is pulled out from a pocket and held out to her, along with a smile. "Sorry, I don't have any better consolation prize to offer right now. I didn't need an exam like this to tell how amazing you are anyway."

...alright, no, she can't resist. Yunaka nods at Sophia's hair. "You want help with that again? Fighting's over, but we still gotta march back after they finish up, and it would suck if someone accidentally stepped on it or something."

This really must be Sophia's lucky day, because she gets not just one, but two (2) juice boxes just for participating. The first comes from the person she would expect, but the second comes from a different, but still familiar face.

Sophia shakes her head lightly. All of the remaining smouldering embers have been extinguished by this point and her body would heal the bruises on its own even if the volunteers at the medical tent hadn't swarmed her with healing staves at the ready. She would be sore for some time for sure, but that is only a sign that her body is mending itself.

Pain truly is relative, if she thinks about it. Compared to great mechanical beasts trying to crush her with rocks and their own bodies, taking the blunt end of a lance from a human man really isn't that bad after she's had a few minutes to sit and catch her breath.

"...Amazing...? ...Me...? No, um, it probably... wasn't as impressive... as you're imagining."

It had been a tome she'd been unfamiliar with, one that lacked the devastating raw power she'd come to expect from dark magic. It was a spell well-suited to a friendly battle, even if the aftereffects had been stronger than she'd expected.

Something to investigate more on her own time, then.

The topic of her hair comes up once more, leading Sophia to tilt her head. She'd never particularly minded the length of her hair, but it seems like recently people had become concerned with it. Or at least concerned enough to bring it up to her directly instead of just thinking it to themselves.

"The ribbon..." Sophia says softly, turning her back to give Yunaka better access to the waterfall of hair behind her. "I didn't... want it to get dirty."

Considering where it had come from, that might be a lost cause, but wouldn't it be nice to make it last as long as possible?

[dyshonor]

“Hey!” Yes, yes — quite unfortunately for Randal, Serra’s managed to track him down. “So... you managed to get my habit bloody. I think it’s only right you buy me a new one. I’m sure you know how impossible blood is to get out of white. Well, if you don’t, it is. So, that’s the deal.” Her arms are crossed. For what it’s worth, it is, indeed, a little bloody.

-- IT IS LESS IMPRESSIVE of a feat for one's eyebrows to disappear into their hair when they've got a mane as wild and tangled as Randal's, but it doesn't stop it from happening nonetheless. "Huuh? Miss, what sorta charity case d'ya think I'm running?" He leans back, crossing his arms. "If you think yer the first solemn-sworn deal that I'd be failin' t'fulfill, yer right mistaken."

Or he says all this, but he is all too aware of Emma and Alice and whomever else might be watching him semi-judgmentally from the sidelines. He sighs through his teeth, digging through his side-satchel and pulling out a coin.

"Look. Get yerself summat nice, alrighty?" He places it in Serra's hand and closes her fingers over it, patting it once before withdrawing.

"And enough o' this 'hatin' girls' nonsense. I'll spear through men, women, n' critters all th' same. Ain't it 'equality' that I'm not givin' ya special treatment, if you think on it?"

[berglietz]

(part 2)

"also-" he flung his bangs back, a showboat with credentials. "do you notice anything different about me?" (guy who just equipped charm.) "I like to think my abilities on the field have dramatically improved!" (guy who just equipped charm.)

he waxed a bold smile, hand pronged against his chest in pride. (guy who just equipped charm)

"I shall make you proud, I promise!"

"—Uh?" Caspar's finger curls down now, head tilted to one side as he looks Ferdinand up and down. A little disheveled from battle, but he's got the same flippy-wavy hair, the same bold-cocky smile, the same shining pride. He did help Caspar feel a bit better about the loss, but that doesn't seem all that different from Ferdinand's usual self. The guy does do his best to lift other people up, even as high-flying as he is himself. "I dunno. You're already a strong fighter though, aren't you? So I think you should just…be yourself out there. Probably?"

[cielenruine]

"tough crowd out there, huh professor?"

( she suspects he prefers it that way. a warrior of his caliber must not find any satisfaction in a leisurely-paced match. )

"in any case, you fought well." dorothea draws close with a broad smile, and extends to him a small refreshment she'd taken from one of the nearby stands. "it must be exciting to participate again. did you ever think you'd be back on gronder field long after your academy days?"

Matthias's head leans back over the chair with an air entirely unbefitting of his position. Perhaps it was the loss or maybe the nostalgia- whichever the dealer chose, the man was all too relaxed regardless. "Far worse if it wasn't." He reaches out and takes the drink with a small not. "Haha...my performance certainly could have been better. If I had to evaluate my own efforts I'd have come up lacking and tell myself to stop relying on a horse." He sighs deeply before truly looking at her. "Exciting is certainly a word for it..." The last time he had been here...he was someone entirely different. "I"d traveled it a few times during my short time in Adrestia but...like this? Hardly. It's expected we come and watch every year...even if the only children we've sent are sponsors and not directly blood related but to be on the field again was something I'd never expected." And as a professor no less. He chuckles. "Edith certainly would have been entirely speechless if she had seen me now." As he takes a sip he can just imagine the scolding he would have gotten.

[twistedisciple]

Dimitri was not the type of person who easily let his emotions get the better of him - it could not be afforded, between his position, the strength that his Crest gifted him, the perception of the public eye - but there were moments when it buzzed about his head like a swarm of flighted insects, pressing and prodding and goading him to move forward, forward -

He could forgive the petulance on the field, even in the face of age and rank disparity - relatively, for what was a common mercenary to the commander who would be king? - and even the unleashed bloodthirst, for there were many better equipped to deal with that than he.

His footsteps moved in an automatic circuit following the battle, keeping his head about him just long enough to carve a path through the damp grass to where the man had sauntered off to, to draw his fist back, and -

Dimitri hits Griss with his fist! [Roll: 15]

Restrained as it was, the man still faced the wroth of a Blaiddyd in full battle kit. Dimitri felt the heat rise from his chest up his neck, the throbbing pound of his heart reverberating in his vision until he took a second, standing over the man, to regain his breath to a calm composure, straightening and adjusting his tunic with a shaky breath.

"I do not care where you are from or who you report to, for the time being while you fight for the Blue Lions, I consider you under my command. If any soldier of mine behaves towards the fallen in such a manner, I will see them punished, by mine own hand if necessary. That's all."

There was only a single second between the moment Griss registered the steady, grass-dampened thuds of resolute boots drawing up rapidly behind him, and his own backside hitting that very same grass. The sky and the silhouette now standing over him ebbed back in through scattering black motes, and he soon recognized that straightlaced leader of the Lions. That he was being lectured. And that heat suddenly bloomed along his jaw and lips, which he licked and tasted iron.

For a few moments, he was awestruck - plopped down on his ass, leaning back on his hands, and staring up at the kid several years his junior like a wayward child being lectured by his father. He didn't think Blondie had this kind of violence in him. Not when he so clearly preferred assisting his allies get to safety than the battle itself. So Griss blinked slow, nearly unresponsive, because it seemed impossible that this guy had just punched him.

Blah blah blah 'under my command.' Behave. Whatever. Griss tuned most of it out, but there was one key word, however, that made him sit up. His eyebrows raised with interest, and then fissuring across his face came that crooked smile. He swiped the back of his hand across his throbbing lip and looked down at the smear of bright red blood.

"... Heard loud 'n clear, boss."

Maybe that kid wasn't half bad as a leader after all.

[machiot]

🧃

"You didn't participate in the mock battle the other day." It's a statement, not a question, because Andrei had deliberately sought her out, combing through the crowd for the familiar sight of his fellow Ashen Wolf.

Year after year, their 'house' scatters at the start of this battle, each with their own loyalties to those aboveground. He holds no expectations that they would've been allies, had Marni been there, but it hardly matters. He takes out the juice box that Camilla had offered him, holding it out towards her.

"I saved this for you, from that counselor who hands out beverages after the battle."

He could make excuses, claim his disinterest in such a childish choice of beverage, anything for the sake of maintaining his pride in the face of an offer as this, but he does not. He remembers Marni puffing herself up when he'd seen her for the first time after the fall of Garreg Mach, her intended nonchalance not quite sufficient to mask the undertone of abandonment in her words. He hopes this gesture alone can convey what he had no idea how to begin to say, then or now. Neither apology nor consolation, but something more like reassurance.

That she had been kept in mind, this time, even despite her physical absence.

(Andrei had never been good at reassurance, but for Marni, he thinks he is willing to make the effort.)

"Perhaps you will be there next time, then?" he asks in a light tone, "The drink is better cold, after all."

Marni is a 'student' in the same way someone might look at particularly mangy dog and call it a wolf. It's a title given to her out of a sense of guilt; no one really knows what to do with a school aged girl who balks at the concept of classes, but takes to being assigned missions like a fish to water. Rather than attending useless classes, isn't it much better to prove how useful she can be?

She doesn't really think she can be blamed for that. It's not like she'd ever had the chance to attend the academy in Elusia either.

There are many tasks that can be assigned to a freakishly strong girl. Tasks that fall within her comfort zone and those that fail to hold her interest for very long without the promise of praise on the other side to sweeten the deal. With the aboveground world in shambles, there are no shortage of heavy things that need to be lifted and it's not like anyone would notice if a girl who wasn't supposed to exist anyway slipped away for a bit on the request of a clergy member.

She hadn't even realized what day it was until after she had come crawling back to Abyss.

"AHHHHH!!!"

...is the anguished scream that escapes her lips the second she sees the juice box being offered to her. Even without Andrei's explanation, Marni would know that juice box anywhere. She grips her head, mentally kicking herself for not realizing she would be missing the mock battle.

"I knew I should've turned down that stupid mission!" She groans, thrashing about. "Ugh, I can't believe I missed out on getting praise from her! Last year I was lucky to see her twice, but what if that was my only chance this year?!"

"Just go upstairs more" would be the simple solution... were she not desperately trying to avoid seeing more than a handful of people. Her fellow Ashen Wolf probably understood that sentiment better than anyone else.

The juice box that she dejectedly accepts (after a little more screaming and whining about her poor fortune) is room temperature now. The juice inside is probably unpleasantly warm now from being carried around until her return and it doesn't even come with praise from Camilla, but...

"Well..." Marni digs at the ground with her shoe after she has fully calmed down, avoiding Andrei's gaze. "No one's ever saved something for me before... So I guess I can go next year. If you're also there."

The ground sure must be interesting today, the way her gaze is focused on it.

"...Thanks."

[theofficersacademy]

Just as a horn announced the start of the historic Battle of the Eagle and Lion, so does a horn call for its end. Fighting across the field draws to its close, with those remaining helping each other limp off to rejoin the rest of their classmates and colleagues.

The hope of victory still burns in all the remaining competitors on the field, but as the hours wear on, a decision must at last be made.

A few red and yellow pendants still flutter in the wind…

But they dull in comparison to the vibrant azure banners that fly proudly against the stormy sky.

“The Battle of the Eagle and Lion has officially concluded!

         And the winner is…

                                      The Blue Lions!”

This concludes the Battle of the Eagle and Lion! You may view the winning bracket here. A thank you to everyone who participated for making this successful; we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did!

Please continue reading for final results and information about prizes.

Honorable Round 3 mentions to the following:

First KO (on dash): Tiki Most Damage Dealt: Gerome (10 dmg) Longest Battle: Shez (M), Tiki, & Griss vs Ferdinand, Leif, & Hilda (7 rounds) Sitting Duck Award: Tiki (Never got to attack)

A joyous feast caps off an exciting day of battle and glory. Red, blue, and yellow swirl together as Eagles, Lions, and Deer leave class divisions on the battlefield and mingle freely amongst each other. As the night goes on, scrap fabric from the torn House banners are sewn into patchwork ribbons, rosettes, and crowns.

You may have noticed us announcing certain characters as having dealt the most damage or missed the most attacks. After seeing each other’s performances on the battlefield, the students have taken notice of certain players and have judged them accordingly:

Worst Case of Senioritis: Griss, who missed the most attacks (7)

Most Likely to Get Away with Murder: Griss, who dodged the most attacks (7)

Most Likely to Sleep During Class: Griss and Severa, who received the most damage (13.5 dmg)

Most Likely to Return from the Dead: Gerome, who recovered the most damage (4 dmg)

Biggest Overachiever: Gerome, who dealt the most damage (23 dmg)

Bearer of the Squeaky Hammer: Shez (M) and Marianne, who barely hit opponents the most (2)

Best Sharpshooter: Edelgard, who landed the most critical hits (4)

Most Dependable: Nanna, who assisted teammates the most (5)

Future Pre-Med: L'Arachel, who recovered the most HP for allies (4 HP)

Most Elusive: Randal, who received the least damage across all three rounds (1.5 dmg)

Most Likely to Repeat the Semester: Nanna, who dealt the least damage of the round 3 finalists (4.5 dmg)

Most Likely to Forget Their Weapon Before a Fight: Griss, who rolled the most Nat1s (4)

Most Likely to Bring Five Extra Weapons to the Battlefield: Nanna, Hilda, and Edelgard, who rolled the most Nat20s (2)

Most Likely to Walk Away With an Everlasting Bromance: no combatants stayed together for the whole battle

Most Likely to Stumble Across Treasure: Randal and Tiki (round 3 finalists) and Matthias (overall), who had the highest average roll (15 and 21, respectively)

Most Likely to Break a Mirror: Griss (round 3 finalists), and Celica (overall), who had the lowest average roll (7 and 1, respectively)

No Man Left Behind: Gerome and Nanna, who never lost a teammate

Most Likely to Get Stuck in a Long Line: Dimitri, who had the most ties (14)

Most Likely to Trip Over Their Own Feet: Finn (round 3 finalists), and Linus (overall), who had the lowest average speed rolls (<1)

Most Likely to Win a Marathon: Griss (round 3 finalists), and Shez (F) (overall), who had the highest average speed rolls (6 and 8)

Most Likely to Spin Themselves Dizzy: Ferdinand, who rotated their team the most (6)

Loves a Plate of Venison: Ayra, who reigned supreme over the Golden Deer (fought only GD opponents and won all three rounds)

You can view the full statistics here.

— BOEL Prizes

There are two prizes for this mini-event. Please read the instructions below carefully! You do not have to message the Masterlist to claim your event rewards.

All event participants are awarded a free skill point. You may put this skill point wherever you choose. Please do remember to message the Masterlist for any skill rank rewards if applicable.

All winning participants (students and faculty/staff supporters of the Blue Lions) are awarded the “Goddess’ Favor”. This may be added to your inventory. Similar to the Black Eagles Pendant and Golden Deer Bracelet, it does not have any mechanical effects or grant stat boosts. It is simply a bragging right and representation of your hard-won victory. Wear it with pride.

As always, let us know if you have any questions, and thank you again everyone for your participation and support!

- The House Leaders

[duchaisruin]

"Oh dear! Your juice! Did you squeeze it too hard? Sometimes they can be quite finicky. Not to worry, I will fetch you another!" Deirdre pokes the straw into the box herself and squeezes the contents into a cup. She would hate for this poor man to explode another one all over himself since that must have been what happened. "Here. Now, shall I find you a towel as well?"

"... Sure."

[warpaway]

🧃"Now you get to take a nap!"

“thank you, professor.  this is so much better than being on healing duty.”