Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Hero
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The princess-to-be let out a tiny groan, furrowing her brow. Her pinky nail was uneven and it was bothering her to no end. It was to be expected, of course; the rabble they designated as caretakers had no hope at keeping up with her standards. It was shocking, to say the least—The Officers Academy was always hailed as this elite housing of nobles and the rich, but seeing as they freely let the rabble join in if they can fish the coin, she should have known better.

Either way, her nails were vastly more interesting than running along with the bold Knight of Seiros. ‘Strength in numbers’ sounded like a good idea, but she was all too aware that the students were more likely to be fodder than anything else. Considering ‘Professor’ Michail wasn’t of any renown, she wouldn’t have gone along even if they didn’t have a choice.

Only one other was smart enough not to go: Lienna Orhneaht. She had seen her a few times lingering around Professor Malathice, but she was a little more interesting than others. For one, nothing about her said ‘highborn’ but the way she walked around would have anyone assume she thought she was someone of importance. It wouldn’t be the first time some pretty thing managed to wrap up a baron or a count around her finger to elevate her position, but it did surprise her that she was at a military academy of all places.

When she spoke, at the very least Veronica let out a hum of acknowledgement. “If the Knight does his job, then there won’t be anything to worry about,” She replied. “Assuming he isn’t too busy dragging back corpses.”

Lienna had turned her attention back to the wand, crossing her legs under her and removing the thing from her waist to examine it in her lap. Holding silver in her hands was still novel to her—even after learning that apparently every single piece of cutlery in the dining hall was made of the stuff—and the crystal on top, the way its many facets captured the afternoon sun and broke her reflection into a thousand pieces… well, it what could she say? It was breathtaking.

The other girl’s voice pulled her head up from admiring the wand, Lienna looking over her shoulder just enough to catch the Queenling in the corner of her eye. Sitting on a log looking dissatisfied, absorbed in her nails or something. Typical. Not that Lienna herself was doing much more, but this girl had a way of turning any little tick into something irksome. Lienna had to wonder if Veronica ever had to worry about birds flying up her nose, walking around like she did with it held up so high.

Still, she was talking more sense than any of the other students had, and Lienna had to surrender a grunt of agreement. That being said, she couldn’t resist a little jab.

“I’m not worried,” she offered offhandedly, crossing her arms and straightening in her carriage seat. She caught Veronica in the corner of her eye again, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you, though? What happens to you if our favourite Princeling doesn’t manage to limp his way back?”

“Then I don’t have to go through a marriage with a cowardly prince that I was against in the first place,” Veronica replied without skipping a beat, although she finally lifted her head to level a look on Lienna. She looked like she was inspecting her, eyes searching for something. “It’s not every day a noble speaks of such a thing so casually, especially since if that were to happen, it would throw the Empire into chaos.”

“So? I’m not Adrestian,” Lienna shrugged, “I’ll be spending my life about as far from the Empire as you can get, go nuts.” Throw the Empire into chaos, please. What made Veronica think she’d care? Or was that sort of arrogance just bred into her the same as her black hair and blue eyes? Lienna wasn’t sure she could even recognize Adrestia on a map before she came here, and this girl thought she’d quake at the idea of some faraway foreign country falling to shambles. It had once already with that plague, hadn’t it? Sure, her world might come crashing down if their precious Prince killed himself on some bandit’s lance, but it seemed a lot of these highborn fledgelings didn’t realize just how small their worlds really were.

Speaking of which… “Though, I find that puzzling,” Lienna continued airily, pointedly tapping her finger against her chin. “You were very careful to tell us all about your position on the first day here, remember? But if Kayden dies, how will you become the new Queen?”

Veronica stared at her for a moment, raising a finger to her chin as she narrowed her eyes. An understanding came over her, and she ended up rolling her eyes as she crossed one leg over the other.

“My sincerest apologies, I misunderstood you,” She stated airily. “After hearing your conversation with Professor Malathice on the first day, I found your line of questioning odd. Having a sheltered and naive noble isn’t uncommon—in fact, those with crests find themselves hidden away more often than not. But after what you just said about not caring about the Adrestian Empire, now I realize you aren’t naive, you’re just an idiot.”

A derisive snort escaped Lienna, the white-haired girl equal parts amused and livid. Oh, how the claws come out! Honestly, Veronica would be better off picking a side early: she could be either the dutiful damsel trapped in an unwanted betrothal, or the opportunistic future Adrestian Queen, but not both. It seemed she must have struck a nerve, though; an argument with a stuck-up wannabe Princess wasn’t what Lienna had planned while she waited for her peers to return, but apparently it was what she was going to get.

“If you’re so worldly, I’m surprised you weren’t tipped off sooner,” Lienna retorted sharply, turning in her seat. “Honestly, highborn rose you are, have you ever heard the name Orhneaht listed among the ranks of Faerghian nobility? Do the math, darling.” She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t doing her best to fit the noble mold here—if nothing else, it would be good practice for her life after her wedding—but she’d be cold in the ground before she let some doe-eyed, soft-handed little shit make her feel inferior for the accident of her birth.

“My sincerest apologies for treading my peasant filth all over your pristine noble tapestry,” she snapped, “but given I managed to live most of my life without needing to know the colour of the Emperor’s underclothes, I’d hazard a guess that the affairs of Adrestian nobility aren’t as vitally important to the whole of Fódlan as you’d like to believe.”

“So quick to defend, oh my…” Veronica couldn’t help but giggle, taking a second to collect herself. “I know only of the major families, there are some that escape my memory—I suppose you think it’s a mistake to have given you the benefit of the doubt?”

She didn’t linger too long on that, however, letting out a tiny sigh. “You’re wrong about one thing, however. The Adrestian Empire collapsing would affect everyone on Fódlan, from high to low-born and both Faerghian and Leicesteran,” She stated plainly. “But tell me, who have you decided to use to improve your life?”

“Count Francis Gautier, younger brother of the current Margrave,” Lienna replied proudly, raising an eyebrow. What, did she think the question would sting? There was no way arrangements like hers weren’t common, and it was a win-win for the both of them: the Count got a Crest freshly injected into his family line, and Lienna got to live a warm, comfortable life of personal and financial security for the rest of her days. Her only regret was that she hadn’t done it sooner.

She did have a fleeting thought that the accusation of “using” her betrothed might offend the Count if it reached his ears via… whoever he’d sent to keep an eye on her, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Even if they weren’t openly using each other in equal measure—to quite the agreeable conclusion, she might add—she wasn’t so sure the conversation would be overheard. Not only were they desolately alone at the moment, but she hadn’t felt the weight of eyes on her since they left the Monastery; a welcome change, and perhaps the only pleasant thing about this entire farce of an excursion. Even after just three days, the inescapable feeling of being watched was already grating on her, raising goosebumps on the back of her neck even in her dormitory, where she should have been sure to be alone. Lienna wouldn’t deny agreeing to the Count’s terms of a chaperone—it was fair enough for him to make sure she didn’t take his tuition money and run away with it—but was it really so necessary that he keep her stalker’s identity a secret? At least then she might finally be able to relax out of his view.

“But yes, alright, the whole realm will fall into disarray if your betrothed bites an arrow today. The whole world, in fact. I bet the mice and the birds will each shed a bitter tear for your loss.” Lienna continued at last, already bored of this conversation. Were catty insults the way noblewomen settled their disputes? Maybe they’d all be a little less stiff if they had it out the peasant way. Children slinging dung at one another was certainly how a lot of the noble snits she’d witnessed looked from the outside.

“Except you, that is,” she continued. “I suppose you’ll just be relieved, because obviously the notion of ruling Adrestia by proxy never appealed to you in the first place. Hence, of course, why you make your future Queenship abundantly clear every chance you get. I understand now.” Lienna made a face of mock enlightenment, spreading her arms for effect.

Veronica looped a lock of her hair around her finger, absentmindedly toying with it. Even the hairdressers left much to be desired, judging from her less than impressive ends. As Lienna stopped speaking, she let out a small giggle, leaning back slightly to look up at the sky. "Do you?" She asked rhetorically, eyeing a cloud above them as she shielded her eyes from the sun, free hand dismissing the question. "Ah, why bother asking, you don't seem like the type to read between the lines."

Instead of continuing, however, she decided to turn back on a more interesting subject. "Count Francis Gautier...he just made a generous donation to the Academy, too. I assumed his contribution had come because the Margrave's son had long since graduated," She thought out loud. "Just low enough to take the apple off the tree. I'm impressed, most would try giving empty promises or seduction, but you seemed to have come out of the deal relatively intact. Do the two of you get along, or will you settle in a cycle of complacency?"

“I thought you only knew the major families,” Lienna retorted boredly, leaning back in her seat. A soft breeze blew past, and she watched lazily as it rippled through the grass of the surrounding field like a wave over water. Alright, this was fun, but with Veronica insisting on running her in circles like a guilty child, she was quickly growing bored. And exhausted. Indech’s teeth, was this how noblewomen spent their days, in the throes of catty pissing contests? She didn’t know how they could stand it.

“Anyway, if you don’t want to answer my question, fine; but could you at least do it quietly and spare me the shrill pitch of your voice?” she asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement as her eyes wandered back down to the wand Michail had given her.

Veronica couldn’t help her laugh that time, standing from the log and brushing off anything that chose to cling to her skirt. "Have you considered that I simply find the prince insufferable?" She asked as she plucked a leaf off her sleeve. "If he lives or dies, as the princess consort, it would be a terrible thing. Personally? I couldn't care less if he got himself killed playing hero to a village that isn't even worth the time. Only fools go out of their way to bleed for people that don't matter."

She put on a smile as she turned to Lienna. "Contempt is common between husbands and wives—since you decided not to answer my question, I'll assume that's where you stand with your betrothed," She stated. "Now, to properly welcome you to the noble life, I shall do my part and impart some unwanted wisdom."

Lienna had to wonder if Veronica wouldn’t even admit to herself that she’d weep shameful tears if her precious royal future was taken away, insufferable fiancé or not, given the enthusiasm with which she dodged the question. Maybe it was something the little Queenlet just couldn’t bear to consider; in any case, it wasn’t Lienna’s problem. She assumed she’d get her answer regardless, when the professors came back dragging the Prince’s battered corpse.

“On what, the finer points of seizing some nobleman’s co—” she paused for a second, letting out a very loud and intentional cough for effect, “—oinpurse? Thanks, I’m good,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

Wrinkling her nose in disdain, Veronica needed to take a second to compose herself to return to something resembling neutral. Of course, she wasn’t going to be forgetting that anytime soon, but that wasn't what she was trying to say.

"No, no...as an unmarried woman, I haven't the foggiest idea to manage a man's...finances," The word came out uttered, albeit she cleared her throat before she continued with, "However, more important than pleasing your husband is navigating the nobility and their long time tradition of verbally tearing down anything they dislike. I won't bore you with lessons or lectures, but I can at least warn you, from one woman to another: be wary of wearing your heart on your sleeve. This doesn't manifest in weeping maidens, it manifests most in those quick to prickle at the first word uttered negatively in their direction. I'd so hate to see your engagement canceled simply because you took offense to something said and didn't know how to properly combat it."

Mhm, how convincing. Little spots of light glittered across Lienna’s face as she turned the wand in her hands, the crystal at its top breaking the sunlight into a scattered rainbow as she half-listened to Veronica’s “advice”. Yes, because Veronica cared so much about her success in the noble world. How considerate. Lienna would have assumed it was all garbage and done the opposite if not for the… ooh, was that embarrassment in the poor Adrestian flower’s voice? With a name like Gerth Lienna found it very hard to believe she hadn’t jumped on every nobleman with a connection to the Imperial family to work her way up to the Prince, but that was neither here nor there. What actually shocked her was that Veronica’s little tidbit didn’t sound that stupid. Sure, it was cute that saving face was the biggest thing noblewomen had to worry about, but she supposed she’d be lying if she claimed keeping her distaste under her hat didn’t make a bit of sense.

Still, she wasn’t about to give Veronica credit for that. “Mm, I’ll keep that in mind the next time one of you glowing mountain flowers dodges a question with a cutting remark; must mean I struck a nerve,” she answered absently, turning the wand once more before finally sitting up straighter.

Tossing her hair, she finally turned to look at Veronica, her gaze icy as ever. “I’m not one for favours, though, so I’ll trade you this: Li vra vrako; vrako balai jo erenj,” she stated proudly, crossing her arms. Surely a highborn scholar like Veronica could figure it out. “It’s simple, but it’s true. You’ll probably find it applies to any challenge you might face, Queen or not.”

Openly rolling her eyes, Veronica returned her attention back to her hands. No one could say that she didn’t try. She’d have to keep an eye to see how that turned out; no doubt it’d be greatly entertaining, at minimum. The conversation ended and the pair were plunged into silence, the vague sounds of nature and an extremely muffled sound of steps in the distance if you strained your ears enough.

After a while, the princess consort stood, smoothing out her skirt as she looked towards the forest. She shifted in place, eventually making a decision. “I’ll be back in a moment,” She stated, already departing.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Hero
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The rest of the bandit's forces stood towards the now decimated ruins of what was left of the other half of the village. The first explosion had taken everything out--even the buildings that still stood looked more like an assembly of broken walls than anything else. The few bandits that were there largely ignored the destruction, focusing on pulling a large, heavy cart filled with a multitude of barrels. At a glance, there seemed to be something scribbled onto them in a variety of different patterns. Once they reached their destination, the cart was abandoned as four cloaked mages took their place around the cart, muttering an incantation in unison. Light burst from the ground, slowly carving out a circle.

A pair behind them differed from the rest. One was clearly a leader, with his armor decidedly less tattered as he carried an axe that was considerably more bloody than the rest. He towered over the rest, a combination of size and muscle that let anyone who laid eyes on him know that he would not go down without one hell of a fight. Next to him stood another cloaked mage, albeit they carried a staff adorned with a skull. The pair spoke in low voices, observing the other mages. The leader gave an order and the small group of bandits split into two, with the first continuing into the village and the rest leaving.

Euphemia stayed a distance away, eyes trained on the leader. Her horse had been stowed away and she remained on foot with bow in hand, blending into the ruins of the village. While the nature of the destruction bothered her greatly, she paid no mind to it. If she could get in a clear shot, she was sure she could end the rampage. As she got closer, however, the magic in the air was electrifying, tingling the skin on the back of her neck. It was difficult to ignore, the pull of the incantation letting her know that a decision needed to be made. On the one hand, she had no doubt she could lodge an arrow in his neck to kill him, but she wasn't a fan of that magic business right there.

Readying an arrow, she made her decision. Narrowing her eyes, she waited for him to take in a breath before letting the arrow go. To her surprise, a shield erupted around the pair. She didn't let that discourage her, however, as she hastily drew back another arrow, this time her hit landing on a mage as her arrow pierced through their neck. The incantation broke immediately, and that was her queue to go. The feeling of lighting in the air resulted in a thunderbolt colliding with the wall in front of her. She took aim at a stunned mage, ending his life with an arrow, though instead of preparing another arrow, she chose to sling her bow around her arm, withdrawing her sword from its sheath as she ran.


It came a little too naturally to Derec, or at least, the thought came to him as he stabbed his spear through the bandit. Maybe it was the fact that it was for the service of others as opposed to the much-less-noble cause of self-defense. It had been a while since Matlock had gotten invaded, but getting raided once was already a harrowing experience as it was. What he couldn't help but wonder, however, was why the bandits were outright destroying the village. Sure, there were men who simply wanted to watch everything burn, but most bandits simply wanted to pillage. They wanted jewels, precious metals, women--here they were just destroying everything.

Pulling his spear out, he watched Michail dispatch a pair not too far ahead. He made it look so effortless--Derec was genuinely impressed. Then again, out of everyone there, Michail was a Knight. He supposed that the silly, goofy personality betrayed the skill he had. Auberon was the right choice for the front line as well, his swings practiced and effective. Isolde was slowly coming out of her own shell as well; while she struggled with multiple enemies and her fear was plain all over her face, it was obvious that she held some sort of skill. Melee combat wasn't something he expected out of the timid girl, but boy, was she fast.

There wasn't much time to compliment or even think too hard on it, as he turned back to check on the rest of the party. As soon as he had turned back, however, he realized he had made a mistake, every sense in his body screaming at him to look back ahead. When he did so, however, it was too late: an axe was already swung at him, fully intending to part his head from his body. Whether it was dumb luck or the divine grace of the goddess, however, said axe was practically tossed aside. Blinking, he watched as Isolde stood, armed and ready as the bandit picked himself up. That was one hell of a flying kick on her side, the close call leaving him shocked for a moment. He shook it off, however, repaying the favor by deciding not to give the bandit the chance to get back up as he drove his spear into the man's calf.

Meanwhile, Tomai had made sure any bandit that was stupid enough to get too close was promptly cursed and killed on the spot. As he spotted the incoming back attack, he turned, fully prepared to strike them all. However, the prince decided to dive in, much to his annoyance. "...hm," He hummed in disapproval, watching as the kid was struck. Fortunately for the prince, both Clarissa and Kellen came to save the day, and Tomai decided he may as well act like a professor as he rummaged through his pack.

Bringing out a concoction, he popped it open and raised his staff. A surge of magic surrounded Kayden and pulled him back to Tomai. "Drink up, frontline's just about finished," He stated, presenting the drink to Kayden.

Kaira let out a tiny huff of frustration, feeling a little useless. Maybe she should have taken a sword from the carriage after all. The students were doing well for the most part, with Tomai's power amplified by the staff and making easy work of the bandits. She honestly couldn't believe how straightforward this was, even if the air was still electrifying. Or was it? Something had changed somewhere, the magic in the air considerably thinner than before.

An arrow shot through the air caused her great alarm as she noticed Jorah wasn't standing. Oh Michail, telling Jorah to just do the thing instead of helping out! Clucking her tongue in disapproval, Kaira cautiously hoisted herself up the side of the carriage, slowly climbing up. Thankfully, aside from a cut on his cheek, he didn't look hurt. She sighed in relief, focusing her magic onto her hand as she carefully crawled up next to Jorah, placing her hand on him to alert her to his presence and sending a tiny heal to stop the bleeding from his cheek.

"If Euphemia was here, she'd say you're doing well," She offered him some encouragement. "I'm going to draw the archer's attention, when you see them shoot for me, make sure to shoot them back, okay?"

Patting his shoulder without waiting for a response, Kaira stood up straight on the carriage, looking around. She couldn't see the archer, but she was sure Jorah would whenever they'd loose an arrow. So instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated as she formed a small ball of light in her hands, promptly squeezing it until it burst. A wave of healing was blown around in a circle around her, recovering the students' energy and invigorating them.

As soon as Michail felt Kaira's spell, he continued forward. "Let's go!" Michail called, running forward. Through the smoke, he suddenly came to a halt, a glyph glowing from his free hand and banishing the wind altogether just in time for something to come flying towards him. He was nearly knocked over, but he managed to catch the flying Euphemia, skidding backward a few feet. To his surprise, the behemoth of a bandit came charging forward.

"Move!" Euphemia scrambled to her feet, the Kalonic siblings immediately leaping away as the axe came down. narrowly missing the pair.

Derec was shocked that someone so big was there, but his size worked to his disadvantage--his swings were wide. When the man lifted his axe, Derec saw that as his chance, deciding to slip in and relieve him of his arm. Unfortunately, he didn't account for just how fast the massive man was as he was nearly gutted, the timely entrance of Isolde delivering a swift kick to change the swing's trajectory saving all but a few of Derec's red locks. The bandit leader took a hold of Isolde, the girl letting out a shriek as she was easily tossed into Derec without so much as a second thought, sending the pair flying to the side.

Euphemia gripped her sword in hand, standing next to Michail. To her dismay, the three remaining mages were back at it again, the light forming the runes once again. "Those mages back there are going to cause those barrels to explode," She informed him and the rest.

Michail narrowed his eyes, spear at the ready as the bandit leader sized them up. "Then I hope someone's fast enough to get past them and stop them," He noted, leaping backwards as the axe came down again. "Great Goddess above, a speedy boy, are we?"

"I haven't been able to get past him," Euphemia admitted. "I took out two of the mages and slowed down the process, but..."

"You did what needed to be done," Michail replied before raising his voice. "Keep your wits about you, we need to stop that spell from going off or we're all done here!"


The small group of bandits departed from the village, intent on retreating for a while. They traveled along the river for a distance until they spotted the carriages in the distance. After some deliberation, the decision was made to liberate the Knights of Seiros of the carriages. It was clear that the battle in the village was going poorly--at the very least, they could take their spoils and get away with their lives intact. And so they kept riding, intent on taking the carriages that had been seemingly abandoned by the knights...


Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Scribe of Thoth
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Auberon never figured the urge to turn away from his objective and look back would be so strong. Not out of fear for himself - he was armored in faith that no pathetic sword of the wicked could pierce - but with the intrusive thought that he'd only be met with one of his classmates skewered on a pike when he next turned around. Normally a good thing to be aware of, but he knew the sight would only make him hesitate, and hesitation was a flaw that turned strong men into weak men and weak men into corpses. The frontliners beside him were doing admirably, he only needed to have faith that the others were just as capable and that the Goddess would shield those who weren't.

When the wave of magic washed over him, the blond only grew more resolute. Knowledge that everyone behind him was protected by something of that magnitude soothed his heart in equal measure to the aching muscles and bruised flesh. At Michail's call to charge, Auberon obeyed despite not having caught his breath yet. Probably for the best; if he started breathing through his nose again, he'd have to smell his surroundings, and he didn't need to be experienced in war to recognize the carnage around him couldn't have been pleasant to any of the senses.

They didn't get far; something came hurtling at Michail that Auberon briefly mistook for some type of siege weapon, though the projectile was shaped far too much like a woman to be a ballista bolt. The source may as well have been a siege engine, given his size - the boy wasn't sure if it was a man or a demonic beast they'd trained to hold an axe. Though with the way he was dressed up in regalia fit only for a dirt-eating peasant that thought himself a king, the man before them was obviously the leader of the band of sinners. Emphasis on was, with the way Derec smoothly maneuvered in for the attack. Auberon foolishly allowed himself to relax, only to watch the scene before him play out in a likely repeat of what had occurred when Euphemia first attacked him. He just grabbed Isolde and threw her like a pebble. His head snapped to where the duo fell, mind screaming at him to rush over but legs too tense to move. He hadn't seen any splashes of red - the axe missed, and the scene playing over and over in Auberon's mind confirmed it. Being hit with a girl as small as Isolde wasn't going to be fatal either, but then why hadn't they gotten back up? Should he go to them? What would he even do? Watch Derec die? Or run for the mages? Kill that overfed bastard that hurt his classmates? Anything except freeze up like an idiot?

Deep breaths. He was the heir of Daphnel, not some blubbering child.

Logically, Auberon knew that he should leave the monster of a man to the professors. The oaf couldn't chase him and fend off someone as swift as the Kalonic siblings at the same time; it would be trivial to slip past if he kept his wits about him. This man was clearly a cut above the rest and Auberon was but a child playing at war for the first time; he had no business trying to contend at this man's level if he didn't have to. But this bastard had too much to answer for. An entire village lost their homes, their families, their very lives; Derec and Isolde laid in a crumpled heap in the dirt; Kayden had apparently been hurt; clearly someone was injured enough to warrant that massive splash of white magic - all through no fault of their own. There wasn't even a method to this madness - it was malice for the sake of it. Merely spitting on this apostate's corpse after Michail had cut him down wouldn't satisfy the rage in his soul. Auberon wanted to feel those flames in his veins again, to illustrate decisively that whatever pinnacle of mortal might this fool may have attained was nothing before the Goddess. Maybe he'd realize his folly in the moments before Auberon sent him to his eternal judgement.

The blond traded his axe to his non-dominant hand and knelt down to rip the spear out of the grasp of his last victim. The rear guard could handle the mages - Auberon wouldn't know what to do with a fireball coming at him anyway. An axe, though; he knew axes well. Like, for instance, that they were unwieldy enough to give a big man like that a problem when faced with projectiles, no matter how unassumingly fast he could move against Derec. Auberon hoisted the stolen weapon over his shoulder like a javelin and, after waiting for a clear shot, hurled it at the bandit leader while his axe was following through from a missed strike at Michail. It wasn't balanced for throwing, but at this range he figured he could at least land a hit that would get the brigand's attention.

"Is beating on women your only talent, fatass?! Maybe your manners will improve once I've trimmed you down to a healthier weight," Auberon goaded, his axe held outstretched in challenge, "Or should I cut down the rest of your subordinates first to give you time for a snack?" This man was the one thing between them and their objective. If he burned brighter than anyone else and all eyes rested squarely on him, there was no more danger to his friends or the village.



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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Eleven
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Once she'd really committed to the whole not thinking thing, Imogen felt more like herself. When she stopped worrying about how things could go and focused on what was actually happening, a wave of sureness washed away her fears and trepidations and gave way to a staunch resolve to keep her friends and the innocent villagers safe.

As Clary had ordered, Imogen took the opportunity Princey gave them to maneuver herself behind the pack of bandits that advanced on him, moving swiftly enough that she had gone unnoticed. She used her speed to distract and annoy – hey, that was a valid strategy, right? She darted in and out for quick swipes and jabs that left shallow cuts at most, but bothersome enough to get them looking her way for a second or two. It might not have been enough to fully incapacitate one, but she figured it at least helped give Kel a chance to compose himself and defeat one (way to go, Kel!) and Clary to work her amazing magic light (yesss, Clary!).

Before an especially disgruntled one had time to turn around and finally deal with her disruptions, Jory had taken care of him with another well-placed arrow through the neck.

"Great job, guys!" Imogen called, scanning the vicinity for any other potential attackers. At least for now, it seemed there would be no more surprises from the back.

Before they continued trudging forward, they were afforded a moment of respite that Imogen was immensely grateful for. A welcome soothing sensation settled upon her, like a balm on a burn she didn't even have. Or, crap, did she get burned without realizing it? Imogen patted herself frantically; although there was blood, none had been hers. Was that Kai's magic then? How cool! Her earlier exhaustion all but faded, making way for a renewed burst of energy that had her raring to go like she wasn't just running around like crazy just moments ago.

Professor Mik led the charge forward and Imogen started to sprint alongside him, only to come to a sudden halt when a strong pull forced her backward. She looked up just in time to see something—someone?!—hurtling toward Professor Mik, and finding out that it had been Professor Euphie wasn't nearly as shocking as seeing the super blood-soaked axe and the behemoth who wielded it.

"Oh, flying Pegasus dung, that is one giant man!" Imogen had to crane her neck to properly look at him. He might have been five times as big, but she readied her sword without hesitation anyway. Der was closer and had been first to move in, attempting to exploit an opening against the giant, only to be outmaneuvered. He's big and fast? How was that fair?!

"Iz! Der!" Imogen called out a second too late, hardly getting the chance to step in before Iz was flung aside so effortlessly it was like she weighed nothing. "Damn it!" Gritting her teeth to contain her anger, she gripped her sword tightly, desperately wanting to charge at the giant for hurting her friends but unable to disregard the private warning bells tolling deafeningly loud against her ears. It was urgently pulling her attention toward the activity happening behind the giant instead and that could only mean it was the bigger threat, however unlikely that seemed.

Imogen looked around; just like before with Princey, she needed a distraction so she could slip past the giant. Maybe she could throw a shoe at him? That's… probably unexpected, right? Luckily, Aubie seemed to have read her mind and hurled a spear across. He followed it up with some unexpected trash-talking that coaxed out a giggle out of her in spite of the situation they were in.

She didn't squander the great distraction he'd provided, though. Once Aubie had gotten his attention, Imogen attempted to rush past, giving the giant a wide enough berth to avoid being within his range.
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As Kellen drew in a steadying breath, he heard two arrows whistle by. He felt his sides squeeze, but managed to relax when he saw the arrows lodge themselves in the bandits to his side. He could do this. He just needed to keep his head, and keep breathing.

“Asshole!” Kellen felt a lump settle in his throat as he turned to see Jorah shout an obscenity in his direction. That might be enough to set him back. But before he could spiral, he realized that the Deer’s ire wasn’t directed towards him, but towards the Adrestian Prince who was beginning to glow with a strange light. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to what had got the Prince in the altercation in the first place, and whether or not Jorah’s curses were warranted he could not say.

As he thought about this, he saw Kayden pulled by Tomai and offered a healing concoction. For half a moment, there was calm. He looked at Imogen and Clarissa, who were standing over the dead bandits. He nodded towards the both of them as Imogen offered praise. “Thanks. ” His voice was trembling, but his hands were steady.

A wave of powerful magic radiated from the top of the carriage, where Kellen saw Kaira standing. He could feel it diffuse through him, and noted with a bit of relief that it didn’t come accompanied with the odd and not-pleasant feeling that came when wounds closed themselves. Or maybe he wouldn’t feel that either, were his crest to kick in? He shook his head, banishing the thought half-successfully.

He moved up to get closer to the group, his head whipping to check behind every few seconds. He witnessed Euphemia hurtle through the air, and felt his heart quicken as her assailant shot forward. He was a giant. And worse than that, he was quick. Kellen's eyes shut on instinct as Derec moved in, only to be saved by Isolde. He felt the pressure set in his ears as they were sent flying, and as much as he wanted to see if his classmates were alright, his head refused to turn witness their prone figures. The fragile equilibrium he had managed to set in himself would have surely collapsed. In this way, perhaps, Kellen’s well-honed but involuntary aversion to that which might harm him was useful.

He heard Michail and Euphemia’s instructions. There were mages behind. They had been source of the first explosion, and would be the source of another if they weren’t stopped. Kellen could hardly bring himself to look at the monstrous bandit without a cold chill running over him. Of course, his House Leader, a fire burning in his eyes that Kellen had only seen in the pious or the crazed, called out a challenge as he launched a spear in the bandits direction. For half a moment, Kellen felt obliged to stand by him, but he realized quickly that Auberon was trying to create an opening.

Kellen wouldn’t forsake the opportunity. As Imogen cut off to one side, Kellen went in the opposite direction. There was no way, he hoped, that the bandit could keep them all away from the mages he was trying to protect.


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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Obscene Symphony
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Happy for the long-awaited peace and quiet, Lienna lounged in the seat of the weapons cart, eyes closed and head lolled back on the backrest as she enjoyed every possible ray of the late midday sun. This certainly wasn’t a luxury she got back in Hima, and she made a mental note to find some time back at the Monastery to enjoy the sun when she could manage it. Hopefully it would be just as warm up there as it was down in this valley—iat the very least, it would be warmer than home.

Veronica felt the need to inform her that she was leaving, and Lienna cracked one eye open to check why; if she were to hazard a guess, she’d say she was off to find a spot to relieve herself. Ha; a future Queen, pissing in the woods. There was a sight. Lienna allowed herself a petty smirk, scattering light across herself and the carriage as she lazily turned the wand in her hands. It wasn’t usually like her to prod at people, but that exchange with Veronica had been oddly fun while it lasted. Who knew, maybe she was picking up on highborn life faster than she thought. And speaking of, that little piece of ‘advice’ she gave the princess would probably amuse her for the next few days, especially if she tried to decipher its meaning. She wouldn’t have much luck: it was just a line of gibberish. But, seeing as Veronica didn’t call her bluff on the spot, maybe the Imperial rose really did think it was a piece of lowborn wisdom in some distant old language only the peasants bothered to speak. Saints above, she hoped so. Maybe that would show that smug know-it-all that money and status didn’t teach you everything.

A warm breeze brushed over the valley, and Lienna took a deep breath, hoping to savour the sweet smells of golden fields and fresh air. However, what she got instead was the faint, acrid smell of smoke she’d been expecting from earlier, sweeping across the plain like a cloud of unwelcome pests. The smoke from the explosion must have finally made its way over. A glance in the direction of the village confirmed it; more smoke was rising now, too, in a few separate columns. Collateral damage, no doubt. Either that or the bandits had started to torch the place, as they so often did. Goddess, the scene on the ground there must have been destitute: houses burning, children separated from their mothers, townspeople scrambling for safety over bodies and debris—sometimes over each other. Lienna’s former scowl returned in full force, the girl narrowing her eyes at the black clouds in the distance. That was always how it went. They probably crowed their courage and virtue, only to trample each other in the race to safety. Prided themselves on their community, but turned their backs on anyone who dared upset the balance. Silently hoping they’d come back to a pile of ash, solving their problem for them.

Hmph. And then they expected help to come running.

Tearing her gaze away in disgust, something else caught Lienna’s attention: a few figures on the road, growing ever so slightly bigger. More riders? They were coming from the village too. But why would they send more people out? They’d gotten all the help they could expect from around here. Or maybe these people were just fleeing?

Lienna squinted down the road, peering carefully at the figures in the distance. No, it didn’t look like they were moving fast enough to be fleeing. In fact, they took an almost leisurely pace, a stark contrast to the plumes of smoke rising up from the village behind them. But who would ride past that without a hint of urgency in their step?

Before she even consciously realized it, her heart jumped into her throat, the girl flattening herself against the carriage seat. What if they weren’t panicked because they were the source of the fire? What if those were the bandits from the town? There was no way so few could have done so much damage, but maybe that was all that was left of them after the others charged in. Did that mean the others were dead?

“Fuck,” Lienna hissed, a forboding feeling gripping her stomach. As slowly as she could manage, she started carefully climbing over the back of the driver’s seat, eyes locked on the figures on the horizon. They were still tiny to her eyes, just a few vaguely horse- and human-sized blotches—with any luck, they’d yet to notice her. But the banners of the Knights of Seiros still flew from these carriages, they’d have to be fools to continue in this direction, right? That was the conclusion she came to earlier, but her former certainty was fading fast; if they were ready to pass brazenly by a Knights of Seiros caravan, they must have been certain of its occupants’ fates. Was she truly alone, then?

After an excruciating moment, she finally dropped into the back of the weapons’ cart, out of sight of the approaching bandits—for now. Would they just pass by? Would they try to steal the carriages? What would become of her if they found her?

A mass of gruesome images flashed through her head at the thought; charred bones and broken women left in the wake of Srengese raiders, confusing pictures of blood and chaos she couldn’t place—a whole mess of disturbing possibilities, harsh memory indistinguishable from cruel imagination. Pressed into a corner of the mostly-emptied cart, she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as she tried to dispel the gruesome imagery from her mind. Goddess damn this, she’d done so much, sacrificed so much, come so far to escape this fate! Had she only sealed it? Was she always destined to die young at the hands of brigands, helpless to save herself no matter how far she fled?!

The wet heat of tears on her cheeks snapped Lienna from her spiral, and she wiped one away with her finger, staring at it for a moment in awe. What was she doing? Cowering in a box, waiting for death to come claim her? What was she, livestock? A spike of anger pushed aside her fear, and she flicked the water from her hand, wiping her face angrily with the hem of her skirt. Like hell she was going to die curled up in a ball in a carriage. She’d done a lot of legwork to be able to die old and wrinkled in a feather bed, warm and comfortable in the castle of a Faerghian Count. No one was about to take that away from her without a fight, much less the quartet of village-torching assholes on their way to a nasty surprise.

Her first idea, of course, was the wand; however, when she pulled it from her waist, she thought better of it. Activating the spell might hide her from view, but the sudden appearance of a fog bank in an otherwise crystal clear field would be a dead giveaway to those bandits that someone was here. If they were going to come—and judging by the faint voices on the wind, they showed no signs of stopping—then Lienna wanted them to come as unprepared as possible.

Tucking the wand back into her sash, she surveyed the inside of the weapons’ cart. Her classmates had largely cleaned it out: all that remained were a set of iron gauntlets, a one-handed hammer, and a bow. The former two being useless to her, Lienna immediately went for the bow, pulling the corresponding quiver to the corner with her. Ha, she’d naively thought that once she secured her engagement and no longer needed to hunt her own food, she’d never have to touch one of these things again. But, while this bow wasn’t packed for her, she wasn’t confident enough in her black magic yet to trust it with her life. Besides, as much as she hated it, she was good enough at picking off rabbits; it might not do her as well in close quarters, but it was better than nothing.

As she prepared herself, though, the band of riders moved steadily nearer; where snippets of voices could be heard moments ago on the wind, they were now becoming clearer, bits of conversation audible between the clopping of horse’s hooves.

“...they’d leave it unguarded.”

“...you saw how many…”

“Worth a shot, if they…”

Hearing this, Lienna wedged herself back into the front corner of the carriage, realizing her time was up. If they were going to check it, they’d come around back and swing down the door there; she could catch at least one of them in the face from this distance, and… do something after that. It wasn’t the best plan, but she’d run out of time to think of a new one. All she could do was wait, straining her ears to hear the bandits’ approach over the pounding of her own heart.

Thump, thump, thump…
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Even more annoyed now that he was forced to take his attention off the idiot prince, Jorah scanned the fringes of the battlefield from his prone position, eyes burning as he searched for that last bastard archer. Goddess above, he wasn’t a violent person—disregard the arrows—but he wanted nothing more than to ring Kayden’s stupid neck for his recklessness. He obviously knew the appeal of risky behaviour, but Jorah’s stunts only ever put his own life at risk, not other people’s! Especially not healers from another House forced to walk into danger to save his sorry ass!

His anger threatened his concentration; he knew well enough that Clarissa could handle herself, but he also knew she was altruistic to a fault, and while he’d never admit it, he worried about her. That must be the difference between lordlings like himself and royalty: apparently Kayden had enough fawning servants at home willing to lay down their lives for his petty whims that he didn’t give jumping into danger a second thought.

Fucking Imperials.

In an instant, though, Jorah’s anger melted away; only a cool, empty calm was left behind, like the still air of a cathedral after the worshipers had left. At first, he thought it must have been magic, but his theory was proven wrong when Kaira came into view on his periphery, laying a hand on his shoulder. He felt her magic then, soothing the sting in his cheek, but her calming aura definitely came from his Crest; he remembered a similar feeling when he met her in the infirmary, mistaking it for a calming enchantment placed on the room.

"If Euphemia was here, she'd say you're doing well," She offered him some encouragement. "I'm going to draw the archer's attention, when you see them shoot for me, make sure to shoot them back, okay?"

It was passing strange indeed—Jorah couldn’t recall meeting anyone with such a neutral aura before, not even his sister—but Kaira had a point; there were more pressing matters to think about. Thus calmed by her presence, the apprehension his brain told him he should feel at the concept of using a woman as archer bait never came; instead, he trained his eyes on the battlefield with newfound focus, an arrow nocked and ready for the inevitable shot.

But even with bait, sniffing out this archer was no easy task. Smoke still stung his watering eyes, fires grew larger as they consumed thatched roofs, and the constant movement of bandits and civilians alike distracted the eye every which way. The burst of healing magic that sprang forth from Kaira was energizing, though, and soothed soreness Jorah hadn’t even noticed he had, making the search a little more tolerable. And apparently, that was the boost he needed: Not seconds later, an arrow came whistling toward Kaira, its heading a dead giveaway to the last archer’s hiding spot. This one was sneaky; apparently they’d been on the opposite slope of an as-yet unburnt roof the whole time, hiding behind a chimney. At long last, Jorah was able to loose an arrow, and another for good measure, sending the archer’s body tumbling off the roof.

“Okay, finally cle—!” Jorah cut himself off as another projectile came screaming toward the group, revealing itself to be none other than Professor Euphemia. He might have wondered what could possibly have sent her flying so quickly, but as soon as his eyes left the Kalonics, they were met with a new adversary that seemed eager to draw the eye: an absolute beast of a man, swinging an axe like a giant at the ants that were his classmates.

“Saint’s taint, what is that? Jorah exclaimed, watching in muted fascination as one of the Lions and one of his own were flicked aside like ragdolls. Shit, was that the Ordelia chick? She didn’t look dead, but she didn’t look great either; hopefully Clarissa could heal from a distance, cause he wasn’t fond of the idea of her entering that monster’s sphere of influence to help.

When he could finally tear his eyes from the nightmarish sight before him, he noticed the figures behind the beast, a small group of mages who looked to be reciting an enchantment. They were far from him, but that cart full of barrels didn’t look like it was up to any good, doubly so if they were casting some kind of spell on it. Auberon seemed to want to draw the giant’s attention, and Jorah watched in interest as Kellen—that was his name!—and Imogen tried to dart around it, apparently headed for the mages.

So what now? Jorah might have thought to shoot for the mages; they were the farthest foes on the battlefield by a fair distance, and with the line having moved forward, they were far enough away that he wasn’t confident he could land any good hits. He might have shot for them anyway—an arrow landing near them might at least startle them out of concentration—but the two friendlies closing the gap were too close for comfort—if he shot, he risked catching one of them in the back. So did he shoot at the big guy from up here? He wasn’t sure if that would even do much; that thing looked like it ate arrows for breakfast.

Strategy was not his strong suit, and it hurt his head just to get this far, but he had to do something—and then it came to him. Strategy wasn’t his strong suit, but attention grabbing? Why, he might as well have made his living off that.

Acting on his decision before Kaira’s rational influence could make him think otherwise, Jorah leapt off the carriage, landing acrobatically and running to the front to take up a spot by Auberon’s side.

“Sounds like you’re starting a tavern brawl; I’m insulted that nobody invited me,” he quipped to the Lion leader when he arrived, planting his feet and pulling two arrows from his dwindling quiver. Nocking them both at once, he tilted his bow on an angle and took aim at the giant.

“How about a taste of this?” he shouted, contining the theme of Auberon’s taunting as he loosed both arrows at once in the giant’s direction. It was more of a flashy party trick than an archery technique of any use, but at this range they’d at least land somewhere on his enormous target. Besides, two arrows flying in his direction at once would at least have to make it take notice, and that was all Jorah was really after.

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The sounds of battle were far off for some reason. He was a frontline fighter, why was he so far away? His chest was heavy, he felt dazed--was he injured? Did he let himself get hurt? His head was killing him, too, he must have gotten knocked out or something. As his eyes slowly opened, he was met with the sight of sandy blonde hair with a little red mixed in. Funny, his hair was as red, too. Red like blood. That's what all the village children used to tell him as they terrorized him, anyway.

His thoughts slowly oriented himself, a slight panic setting in as he realized what happened. The battle was taking place not too far ahead of him, but he and Isolde were surrounded by rubble--they had gone through one of the walls! "Isolde. Isolde, are you alright?" He didn't know how he kept the panic from rising in his voice, but he at least tried to make sure he held Isolde properly.

She let out a tiny groan, eyes peeking open. "...yeah," Her voice was so soft he almost didn't catch it.

Somehow, he had ended up fine, but Isolde must have suffered some sort of head injury--his guess was the debris came down and hurt her after the matter. Talk about adding insult to injury! He shifted himself up, clumsily lifting her over his shoulder with one arm while the other grabbed his spear. In the back of his mind, he knew he probably should have prioritized handling the girl more delicately, but he figured it was better to get them to the backline. Clarissa was a healer, right? And Professor Simeon was a nurse, too. They could help Isolde. Shaking off some of his daze, Derec took in a deep breath to steady himself and cautiously moved forward. He bit back a hiss as his back protested--did the trip really mess him up that bad?!--and kept going.

Meanwhile, the spear that had been hurled at the bandit leader was caught in time for his arm to catch both of Jorah's arrows. One seemed to lodge itself in flesh while the other bounced off his helmet. Still, with the combination of Auberon and Jorah, the leader was successfully distracted and could not stop both Imogen and Kellen. The two were too quick to block, but all he needed to do was go for whichever was the easiest to get to. The choice was made for him as the young girl was smaller and likely harder to catch. And thus his axe was swung, aiming directly for the boy's shoulder.

What he did not anticipate, however, was the Knight once again showing off their difference in skill. Michail was at Kellen's back, lance taking the brunt of the hit. The metal of the axe clashed with the weapon but said lance held strong, with Michail entirely focused on keeping the bandit's weapon as far away from Kellen as possible.

Tomai decided to avoid accidentally hitting anyone in melee range, instead deciding to focus on the mages in the back. Kaira had a similar idea as the pair cast their spells in unison. Both flew through the air, but before they could land, both light and dark magic were promptly sucked into the mage's skull staff.

"Huh," Tomai lowered his staff, raising his eyebrows.

Kaira blinked for a few seconds but collected herself. "The spells were absorbed, but...how?"

"I reckon it's the staff. I think I'm now invested in winning this fight as I'd like to liberate them of it," He replied.

Euphemia fell back some, temporarily sheathing her sword and pulling out her bow. She aimed directly for the mages, firing off an arrow. Said arrow bounced once again against the barrier that popped up. "That barrier's going to be blocking any physical attacks and any spells won't do any good. Now what?" She asked.

Kaira peered at the mages, an idea coming to mind. "We'll wait for Imogen to attack, and then follow up immediately after. The barrier is being manually conjured every time--I don't think it can block multiple attacks in succession," She pointed out.

Letting out a sigh, Euphemia offered Kaira her bow. "Alright. That'll fall on you, Jorah, and Imogen, then," She gave Jorah a confident smile before rejoining her brother at the frontlines. Movement out of the corner of her eye stopped her as she noticed a spare bandit decided to join his boss with the intent of crossing paths with Derec. Unbeknownst to them, however, was the last bandit sneaking up on the crew from behind, with every intent on beheading the unaware Kaira.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Scribe of Thoth
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Jorah's arrival at his side was unexpected but not unwelcome, though Goddess help him if the Deer ever heard he held that sentiment. Judging by the way he was still making light of the situation, his fellow House Leader hadn't been harmed yet either. Goddess willing, they'd all stay that way.

"I figured a formal invitation to duel would just confuse the poor simpleton," Auberon responded to Jorah's prodding, "Careful, he's faster than he looks." A sentiment promptly illustrated when the man outright knocked the spear out of the air. At least the arrow newly embedded in the muscle might slow his swings a bit. It certainly didn't seem to impact the way he moved to bisect Kellen while he ran past, but Michail had interposed himself in front of the blow before Auberon had even seen him move - before he'd even registered the danger of the situation, even.

The fingers wrapped around Auberon's axe tightened to the point of trembling. That was both his housemates targetted now, and Auberon had barely been spared a glance. Was he not worth the effort? Was this fat bastard mocking him? It didn't matter. Retribution would be written in the splattered chunks of brain that leaked from this fiend's skull, whether Auberon cracked it open from the front or behind. He could rush in right now and - no, this guy was smart enough not to fall for a diversion. Perhaps whatever peasant hovel he crawled out of contained a book or two. No amount of ferocity Auberon could put forth would monopolize this brute's attention if even Michail had to dance after him to keep him occupied. The blond would simply have to put himself in a position where the man would have to barrel through him to get to his objective. Somewhere like... right in front of Kellen. Even if he went for Imogen instead, the bandit would be forced to engage Auberon regardless once he and Kellen started lopping off wizardly heads.

"Strafe him and aim for his back while he's swinging at us, but don't be scared to take potshots at those mages if you see an opportunity," Auberon advised Jorah offhandedly before setting off. The fact that a Leicester had gotten the first notable hit on this guy irked his competitive side more than he would've liked to admit, but if it worked, Auberon certainly wasn't going to discourage it. He rushed in toward the bandit's side, axe low and drawn back to easily telegraph a strike. As he entered melee range, he kept a cautious distance and feinted at the bandit's hamstring to both draw some pressure off Michail and mask his true intentions before peeling off to put one more body between their opponent and Kellen. Once in position, Auberon slowly backpedaled to reduce the odds of Chief Pork Dinner flanking him to get to his target.

"You okay? You look like shit," He asked innocently without looking back at his housemate. Kellen hadn't been hit, Auberon was sure of it, but that was a lot of red. Either he was a messy fighter, or that burst of white magic earlier had saved his life. No time to dwell on it though; the boy took up a defensive stance and refocused on the bandit chief. "I'll stick close until he charges. Then he's dead." It was said decisively, with no room for doubt or skepticism. In Auberon's mind, the bandit may as well have already been bleeding out. His faith would see it done.


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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by POOHEAD189
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Well that was harrowing. He had not even realized he had launched himself into that audacious rearguard action until he was already knee deep in bandit blood, and a bit of his own too. His frame shook just a bit, but he also felt very alive and relieved. He would make sure to thank Kellen, Clarissa, and Imogen later once this business was done. That was a fight he wouldn't soon forget, and the team fell back in good order after the bandits were slain or sent packing. Kayden trotted back with them, and saw his professor examining him with a look of annoyance. The Prince hadn't expected that, considering he had just risked his life to keep the team from being overwhelmed by a flanking attack, but he supposed having to explain to the king why his son was killed in a small bandit attack wouldn't look good for the institution. That and Professor Tomai just had a certain manner about him so he wouldn't hold it against him. What's more, he was given a boost from magic and a tonic to drink!

"Thank you, professor." He said breathlessly, truly grateful as he took a long swig of it. He was bleeding sweat and sweating blood at this point, but he could still fight. Wait, did Tomai give him a little something extra in this drink? He'd thank him later.

It looked as if he would get just that when the smoke of the ruined village was cleared and the biggest man he had ever seen stepped into view, hefting an axe Kayden likely couldn't begin to pick up himself. Everything happened so fast, he had to run to catch up. By that point, it didn't look like the big one was going down anytime soon. He caught a thrown spear, blocked arrows, and kept the others at bay. Kayden wanted nothing more than to stand with his fellow team leaders, but he also understood the strategy of going after the mages that would finish their ritual any moment.

"Damn..." He muttered, unable to make the decision for a brief second. The second he needed, he would later recall. As the Prince hesitated, he turned to survey the field of battle and caught glimpse of the slightest movement lurking among the shadows. The gleam of an unsheathed blade glinted in the light of the day, and his breath caught when he saw the bandit was moving toward's a distracted Kaira!

Goddess let me make it in time, he told himself. He made for the two of them, sword unsheathed and now held in both hands. Were it not for Tomai's magics, he might have been too slow. His lungs were on fire and his muscles ached like nothing else. But as the blade descended to lop off Kaira's head, Kayden's own blade leaped up to meet it before it bit into her skin. The clash was likekly jarring and loud in Kaira's ears, Kayden's arm shivering from the impact as his heart thundered from the close call.

"Kaira! Keep doing what you have to. I'll get rid of this knave!" He told her, eyes still fixed on the bandit. With that, Kayden pushed him back and began to attempt a riposte, only to find the man blocked his strike. The bandit and the prince traded blows with their weapons, the fellow now wide eyed and worried after he lost the element of surprise. Kayden wasn't at his best anymore, but he had a fire in his eyes. He lunged forward, redirecting the next swing of the bandit's sword and running the man through with a wet squelch of blood. He could feel the bone against his blade. Kayden had a hand at his throat for a brief second as the bandit attempted to take him down with him, but he weakened rapidly and slid off Kayden's sword, dead.
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Kellen kept one leg in front of the other as he continued to sprint in the direction of the mages. Kellen had a passing dislike of magic. All of his brothers did too, though that may have been more thanks to their sister’s aptitude with it – and tendency to showcase said aptitude when she was first learning. While it was rare to see Srengese raiders properly trained, some had a natural affinity for it, as the odd poor soul had discovered after seemingly disarming a bandit. Even then, he had never seen anything like that cloud, or the destruction it had portended. These were not some dilettantes who could tepidly light a flame in their hands, they were trained. But they were distracted, gathering around the cart to try and recreate the earlier explosion. Kellen tucked his chin in as he heard the ping of an arrow colliding with the rough metal of the bandit’s helm.

Kellen’s head instinctively pivoted in the direction of the sound where his eyes took in two pieces of information. The first was that Imogen was faster than him. He could see the dash of pink hair was nearer to the mages than he was, and he was thankful to see that she had been unimpeded in her journey. The second observation was less so the presence of a figure, but the absence of one. Where in hell had the bandit gone? Kellen’s eyes darted, and they registered the axe before clocked the monster wielding Time seemed to slow for half a moment Kellen saw the axe coming down towards his shoulder. A blow like this would take Kellen’s arm, if he was lucky, or the upper half of his body if he wasn’t. Skidding as he began to turn himself to meet his opponent, Kellen’s arm tried to raise his blade to catch the blade, but he knew he was too slow and the axe was too quick.

Will I even feel it?

Michail’s lance left the question unanswered. Kellen hadn’t spotted his professor approaching, but he appeared to move with an alacrity that nearly matched the brutish bandit. As Michail fended off blow after blow, Kellen felt his previously sure grip on his blade melt, as it dangled loosely from his hand. He knew his professor needed help. But he looked back down at the blood covering his ruined uniform, and he couldn’t say with certainty that it wasn’t his. Kellen felt his feet taking two shaky steps backwards, along his original path towards the mages, but more crucially, away from that bandit. His eyes were trained on his axe, every blow Michail managed to parry causing Kellen to shake. He only registered Auberon once he spoke.

“I, umm… I don’t think so.” There was no breath in Kellen’s words. His whole body was shaking like when his brothers had locked him outside the keep in his nightclothes during a particularly cold night. If he was given the opportunity to run off the field right now, and never see anyone again, he might take it. But here his House Leader was, mere seconds after his professor had stepped in to save him. Kellen couldn’t stop himself from shaking, but he could stop himself from shrinking away, at least for a few moments. Even if he were able to run, those mages were planning something drastic, and Kellen was doubtful even at a full paced sprint that he’d get away before the rest of the village and those sorry souls who had entered it would be blasted away. Those sorry souls included his classmates, and his professors.

Kellen couldn’t assume a ready stance, not with his body trembling and his mind whirring away. But his stance widened ever so slightly as he took his first real breath since he had lost track of the bandit. He spared a glance at the mages, who were still focused on their task. He could see Imogen was nearly on top of them, and he hoped that the others were prepared to support her with the mages. He wouldn’t turn his back on the bandit again, not while he was still standing.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Obscene Symphony
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Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…

Though she was only counting heartbeats, each one felt like an eternity, even longer when punctuated by the crunch of dirt and stones or the approaching rustle of grass announcing the bandits’ presence. The men’s own words paled in significance to their steps in Lienna’s ears: a word could be carried on the wind, but each footfall was itself a threat of increasing urgency.

And they were approaching faster than she’d like; when their hoofbeats grew loud enough to distinguish multiple different horses, and even worse, when she heard the riders thump to the ground off their backs, she knew her time was almost up. She could hear them breathing now, and even see the tops of some of their heads over the carriage walls—but she was lucky. It seemed they didn’t notice her yet. But her naive hope that they might be satisfied with a look around was dashed as she saw them moving to the back of the carriage, jiggling the latch on the door opposite her hiding place.

She held her breath.

The latch clanked, and the hinges creaked as the door began to lower. Lienna drew her bow, only waiting until the bandit’s head was visible before making her move.

“Wh—?!” The bandit’s cry of surprise was cut off when the arrow hit his face, knocking him to the ground and making the carriage door fall with a BANG along with him. Then, everything was a slew of shouting. Lienna could scarcely keep track; her bow was pulled from her grip by someone reaching over the side of the carriage, and two more assailants began clamoring into the carriage after her, swords drawn. Fuck, so much for that plan. There was no time to fight; she abandoned the bow, blindly grabbing for the nearest weapon with one hand and the wand in her belt with the other. Time seemed to slow as she clutched it, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to focus on what Michail had told her. Concentrate into it.

To her surprise, the wand did as it was meant to: the slightest push of magic and a fog erupted around the carriage, halting the bandits’ advance for a second in a flurry of curses and coughs. Lienna didn’t hesitate; with the advantage of cover she was sure would be brief, she felt her way back up the front of the carriage, groping through the fog to climb up over the driver’s seat once more. The carriage shook with the flustered footfalls of blinded men, and using the cover of their clumsiness, she dropped to the ground as quietly as she could manage, doing her best to keep the carriage between her and where she thought the bandits were.

But she couldn’t stay still for long. At least one of them had been around the side of the carriage near her, and the others quickly realized it was empty and disembarked. Squinting at the weapon she’d managed to grab—the gauntlets—she scowled. What the hell now? These were useless to her. Cover was all well and good, but they’d find her ere long, or else start swinging blindly until their blades met flesh. Could she run? She might get out of the fog bank before they realized the direction she fled, but where could she go? They’d see her for miles if she ran down the road, and her spine crawled at the idea of running to the forest, her gut twisting with uncommon disgust that she couldn’t quite explain.

Whatever, there was no time to think that far ahead. Hearing footsteps come nearer, she blindly threw the gauntlets, which landed on the ground some distance away with a notable thump. That was followed by more shouting, and the footsteps turned away, receding in the direction of the gauntlets. With a bit more distance between them, Lienna rounded the carriage, keeping it between her and the bandits.

Well, all but one.

“Little bitch!

The sharp grip of a gauntleted hand on her shoulder elicited a yelp from Lienna, and she was yanked around, coming face-to-face with her attacker. He was short, stocky, and blood seeped from a wound on his nose next to the dented prong of a helmet protruding over his nose. She gasped in horror; that was the man she’d shot! That stupid nose-covering helmet must have stopped the arrow from killing him, the bastard. What the hell kind of valley bandit even wore a helmet?

The man wound back to strike her, wicked blades on his gauntlets glinting through the fog, and there was no time to curse him before she had to act. With a yell of effort, Lienna did the only thing she could; mercifully quicker than her injured assailant, she raised the narrow butt of her wand and stabbed it into his eye, twisting out of his grasp as he shrieked and stumbled backward. Lienna’s back hit the carriage, and without hesitation she raised the wand, channeling her magic to give the reeling bandit a taste of Faerghian winter.

An unfamiliar symbol flashed in front of her, and a rush of energy rocked through her body, through the wand, and out in a burst of wicked cold. Spikes of ice exploded out of the ground in a column before her, racing through the fog until the bandit’s painful moaning went abruptly silent.

Eyes wide with disbelief, Lienna crept forward, following the ice until a dark silhouette emerged from the fog. She didn’t go close enough to see the details; the unnatural crick of the man’s spine hanging from a spike of ice was enough for her to know her magic had done its job.

“Saints be good,” she whispered breathlessly, backing away from the gruesome scene before her. But shouting from behind reminded her of her situation, and she crouched down behind the carriage once more, forcing the impaled man from her mind. Right, one down, and… she wasn’t sure how many more there were. Two at least that she could hear talking, maybe three? More? It was impossible to tell. She could only hear their footfalls and curses, spread invisibly all around her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the cover of fog was more to their benefit than hers. But for now, at least, they didn’t seem to know where she was.

That still left the matter of dispatching them alone, but at least she had a second to think. And speaking of, where the hell was Veronica?!

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Imogen stubbornly pressed on, fighting every urge to turn around and fight the goliath filling her peripheral vision. At some point, she knew she would make it past safely—or did Dogberry tell her? Whatever, it was difficult to keep the metaphor straight while simultaneously trying to: pounce on the mages that were making things go boom; stop herself from joining Aubie in taunting and hurting the big bad giant man; and keep from worrying about Kel, who closed in on the mages as well from the other side. Imogen had resigned to following what her gut told her, and normally it was the easiest thing in the world to do. But when other people's lives are on the line, she would have preferred to be in the thick of the action.

This time, she'll have to trust that everyone will be okay.

And just as she thought this, she felt rather than saw the giant's axe swing downward. Her heart hardly had the time to drop and fear for Kel; the unmistakable clashing of metal against metal was enough to tell her he was safe. Imogen couldn't spare a backward glance to see what had transpired so she settled for imagining Kel masterfully parrying the bandit's blow with his sword, hands strong and steady, though his knees were shaking. It would be too unrealistic, even for one of her flights of fancies, if Kel wasn't at least slightly scared.

With the giant bandit properly distracted, Imogen was in the clear. The mages might have been too preoccupied with their creepy chanting to notice her approaching, but there was no escaping their attention now. "Hey, over here!" she called out, waving her sword wildly to get them to focus on her.

Once again, the goal was diversion. Earlier, she had seen an arrow bounce off a magical barrier they cast. And before that, she was almost certain it had sucked up whatever magic attack the Professors directed at it. Any attack she does would ultimately be deflected as well, but that would give the others their chance to strike. She'll have to do a one-two combo to break through and then just kinda… hope for the best? That was as much strategizing as Imogen was capable. Attack twice and see what happens sounded pretty foolproof to her!

While still in full sprint, Imogen raised her sword over her head, grasping it with both hands as she charged. It almost looked like she was going in to slash at the closest of the mages, but instead, she came to a sudden stop just meters away. She used the momentum to throw her sword, sending it hurtling toward the leftmost mage. Then she ducked and stepped to the side, away from the sword's trajectory once it bounces back.

Aaand that was part one of the combo, in which she literally throws away her weapon. The only way Imogen could think to follow it up was through some good ol' fashioned grappling. Kind of like that time someone in town dared her to hunt down a hog without weapons, except this time, she'll win and not need Caius to save her. Crouching down in preparation, Imogen singled out the mage with the skull staff—not for any Dogberry-related warnings but because he honestly looked the most menacing—and waited for the faint flicker that signaled the barrier dematerializing.

When she was sure it was gone, Imogen sprung up and pounced on the mage with a war cry.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Obscene Symphony
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Jorah grinned readily at Auberon’s reply, satisfied that there might just be hope for him yet if he could manage a bit of levity in the heat of battle. Of course, that didn’t quell a bit of competitive pride when his arrows hit their mark, clumsily-aimed as they were, while Auberon’s lance was swatted away like a fly. His little victory could probably be attributed more to the ballistic superiority of arrows over lances, sure, but that wouldn’t stop him from flaunting his win over Auberon when all this was done.

But small victories were short-lived, and a swell of anger coming from his fellow leader reminded Jorah of the gravity of the situation. Auberon’s infectious righteousness had soon tipped into righteous indignation, and Jorah was taken up in the tide; competition was all well and good, but with this giant bastard preying on the weak and endangering the lives of both his friend and his fellow students, Jorah couldn’t help but think he’d have preferred that lance to meet its mark—and as many other sharp and painful objects as could be found, for that matter—even at the cost of a petty victory.

"Strafe him and aim for his back while he's swinging at us, but don't be scared to take potshots at those mages if you see an opportunity," Auberon suggested, taking off without bothering to hear a reply. Not that Jorah had much of one; that seemed as good a plan as any, and that intoxicating fire in his chest made him more than happy to bury a few arrows into the brute’s back. But as he did just that, nocking and circling around the giant’s side while Auberon charged ahead, the anger that fueled him was suddenly siphoned away, disappearing like smoke on the wind.

Confused, he glanced at his surroundings, and his question was swiftly answered: he’d strafed over near Tomai and Kaira, catching the second half of the latter forming a plan.

"... follow up immediately after. The barrier is being manually conjured every time—I don't think it can block multiple attacks in succession."

Jorah lowered his bow a touch to listen, just as Euphemia arrived and handed hers to Kaira. "Alright. That'll fall on you, Jorah, and Imogen, then."

Jorah caught the smile Euphemia sent him as she passed, the young man watching her as she darted off, half a pleased grin hanging from his lips for a second before he snapped back into reality. Right, mages—Auberon’s single-minded ferocity was a good motivator, but it seemed to have clouded his mind from seeing the whole picture. Kaira’s calm and rational influence reminded him to survey the field, and in particular, the ring of mages behind the giant, conjuring up something foul-looking. Goddess above, was there not enough going on?

Jorah rolled his eyes, growling under his breath. That was probably by design, though he wasn’t fond of the idea of bandits with organizational skills. Maybe education was better left to the wealthy and well-connected after all—ha! Wouldn’t Duke Gloucester be proud of that. The thought made Jorah chuckle, at least, imagining the lecture he’d get from Clarissa if he made that suggestion out loud. Maybe an idea for the carriage ride back, to lighten the mood if they happened to survive.

Bah, mages! Saints be good, this was altogether too much concentrating for one day, but he was knee-deep in it now, and the only way out was through. Raising his bow once more, his eyes darted around the battlefield, taking a quick inventory. Before him were two tasks: shoot the bandit as he swung, and shoot the mages when their barrier fell. The giant was quick, he had to give him that, but it seemed those fast strikes came at the price of a long recovery; Jorah couldn’t tell when he’d strike at Auberon next. On the other hand, Imogen was nearing the barrier, sword at the ready, and it did seem like the giant was meant to be a distraction from whatever sinister doings those mages were up to.

Alright, alright, fine: mages first, giant after.

Jorah glanced over to Kaira as he raised his bow, catching her eye for an instant. “Ready?”

Eyes back on the mages, he picked out the one he was after, tracking Imogen’s movements in his periphery. As soon as she made her second charge, Jorah loosed his arrow at the mage farthest from her, then nocked and fired two more in quick succession. He paid little attention to whether or not they made it through the barrier; if volume was the name of the game, then getting more arrows downrange was better than waiting to see whether they met their mark.

Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Achronum
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Clarissa let out a sigh of relief as the bandits fell one after another. Despite the fervor of the surrounding chaos, they were functioning well as a unit. Hopefully that would mean the quick acting Prince would learn for the next encounter and rely on his comrades in arms for the next ambush rather than dashing into the midst of multiple opponents. She stood from where she had knelt, intent on fixing up the Prince, but found him snatched away in wisps of magic. She panicked for a moment before she realized his destination was none other than Professor Tomai and she turned his attention as a healing concoction was shoved into his hand.

She sighed as magic swept over her, a soothing calm in the midst of the gore and despair. She’d always felt healing magic like a blanket; something safe and calm and sturdy no matter what you’d suffered, a guarantee that you’d be there to see the next sunrise, something no cold or dark could conquer. She hadn’t yet been injured, and frankly she’d care to keep it that way, but she basked in the sensation of wholeness nonetheless.

However, respite couldn’t last for long as they were now faced with a new problem: an absolute behemoth of a man facing down their lines, axe dripping an obscene amount of blood. Clarrissa pinched herself, just to make sure she was actually in her right mind at the moment and not hallucinating. She didn’t know it was actually possible for people to reach that… She couldn’t do much more than gape at how fast the man reacted, moving as if he was half his weight and swinging as if he was thrice his size. She watched as Isolde barely deflected a hit meant for Derec but that hadn’t meant the pair were in the clear. Instead, the monster used Isolde as a projectile and threw her hard enough that Derec and Isolde flew through a wall!

Clarissa swore violently under her breath, trusting Auberon, Jorah, and the others to keep that monster’s attention long enough that she could get them back on their feet and get well out of that thing’s range. If that thing so much as sneezed in her direction, Clarissa was certain she’d meet the Goddess much faster than she cared to. She tore off towards the pair, skidding to a halt as she found Derec carrying Isolde like nothing more than a sack of potatoes. The poor boy was clearly in pain and she gave out a disapproving click of her tongue.

“Goddess above, put that poor woman down before you injure yourselves more!” Clarissa commanded after a sigh of relief. She helped Derec get Isolde back off the ground, grimacing at the state of her. Isolde was in rough shape and guilt blossomed in her stomach. Here Isolde lay, one foot in the grave, after Clarissa convinced her to come. Clarissa promised she’d have her country woman’s back and the first thing she does is run off to help a bumbling idiot.

A prayer mumbled under her breath and her fingers spun her faith into the magic circle, all the love and comfort and purpose she found in the goddess pouring into her spell. Healing light surrounded Isolde, coaxing injuries within and without to seal and easing the biting pain and muscle aches. It was the best she could do for now, in the midst of combat and danger surrounding them, but it should get her back on her feet. “You’re incredibly brave, Isolde. The way you deflected that blow was amazing.” She apologized to her housemate as the spell finished.

“Now that she’s out of mortal danger…” She turned a critical eye on Derec. While he clearly wasn’t in as poor shape as poor Isolde, he was clearly hurting. “Let’s get you back into shape. Though I’m not sure most people would have been able to get up, much less carry someone else, after accidentally discovering a new way through a wall. I’m quite impressed.” She chuckled, repeating the process as she cast a healing spell over Derec.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Hero
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Letting out an irritated sigh, Veronica pulled her skirt away from another bush that decided to grab the material as she walked past it. Nature had always been something she ever only wanted to experience from a distance. She had already deemed her shoes a lost cause as the forest's mud had practically engulfed them, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't made a vain attempt to clean them. But after the fourth time getting her foot stuck, she abandoned that effort and focused more on making her way back.

Not that she was in any particular hurry, of course. She doubted Lienna missed her, and their riveting conversation wasn't something she was looking to continue, either. At the very least waiting in a carriage was more comfortable than trudging through the forest, so she used that as her motivation. A nice, hot bath would do when they would return. She pitied her poor skirt as she frowned at the tiny holes. The uniform wasn't anything to write home about, but she did admire its simplicity and material, and nothing deserved to get caught repeatedly by thorns.

As she neared the exit, she was surprised to see fog. An odd thing considering that the sky showed no signs of such weather. It was also confined to the area where she thought the carriages were. No, that wasn't natural, that must have been the wand Michail had given to Lienna, which meant trouble. The Goddess must have enjoyed the idea of the pair getting attacked, and of course her bow was inside the carriage. Who knew how many enemies there were? And who knew where Lienna was in all this. Had she fled to the forest, she was certain she would have seen her by now. The wise thing to do was wait where she was, but on the off chance Lienna lived, she would likely never hear the end of it.

"I'll bet you're worried now," She couldn't help but mutter as she tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, approaching the scene.

@Obscene Symphony

Derec was all too glad to follow Clarissa's instruction. While he made sure he was as gentle as he could be when he put Isolde down on the ground, the muscles on his shoulders and legs began to protest. Now that he was out and away from the danger, the adrenaline seemed to wear off, and while he initially knelt down to take a pause, he was just plain finding it hard to get back up. Why did it take so long for him to realize how breathless he was?

At least watching Clarissa heal had distracted him from how much his body ached. He was relieved to see the tension leave Isolde's expression, her eyes fluttering open shortly after. While it took her a moment to sit up properly, it seemed the worst had passed. There wasn't any holding back his sigh of relief--he wanted them all to make it out of this alive, regardless of house. A silly thought, but unity was what had led them to their successes so far.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Clarissa healing him, and he had to chuckle a little at her words. "And here I thought I had made a fool of myself," He admitted that much, watching as Isolde slowly tried to get to her feet. As she winced and sat back down, however, he put all jokes aside. Clarissa's magic was strong, so he wasn't sure why she was in pain.

"I think he hurt my ankle..." She said quietly, her hands on her leg.

He as in the bandit's leader? Derec wasn't entirely surprised--the behemoth of a man looked like he could crush bones with a squeeze. The redhead got to his feet, feeling entirely invigorated as he offered her a hand. "Then let's get you to the backlines."

Meanwhile, in the backline, Kayden's successful dispatch of the bandit had left that loose end all tied up. Once Kaira caught Jorah's eye, the pair were in sync. There wasn't a need for any confirmation as she followed his lead, their initial arrows firing off one after the other. Sure enough, Imogen's sword attacks had occupied the barrier long enough for their arrows to sink into the unfortunate mage. The other mage let out a scream of terror as Imogen tackled them to the ground.

"We did it--!" Kaira cut herself off as the mage with the staff slammed his weapon to the ground, though rather than an attack as anticipated, he was surrounded by a flash of violet light that shot into the sky. He was gone, likely having fled the battle. "He...abandoned them?"

Tomai scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hired help is only loyal to the coin," He shook his head as he turned his attention to the scene in front of them.

Auberon's feint had caused a second of hesitation that Michail was all too happy to follow up with. Having learned from Derec's mistake, he made sure to keep his distance as he swung, albeit the only thing he managed to do was cleave off the leather strap of his armguard. The bastard was faster than expected, albeit at the very least he now had a vulnerable spot if they could get to it.

However, the bandit leader made a second mistake in focusing on the Blue Lions. Despite being his initial victim, Euphemia had also gone in at the same time. She went in much closer than Michail, thrusting her sword upwards and successfully knocking off the bandit leader's helmet, sending it flying away a good distance. To her surprise, the loss of his helmet didn't phase him at all, even though the trickle of blood showed that she had definitely struck him.

To Michail's horror, the bandit grabbed Euphemia by the throat, and he promptly halted his assault. "Euphie!"

His grip tightened around her throat, and Euphemia was sure he was going to make sure to crush her neck. Her chest was already feeling tight from the sudden lack of oxygen, but she'd be damned if she was going down without a fight. Even as she was lifted in the air, she clumsily changed the grip of her sword as she used both arms to raise it above her head as high as she could, eyes wide with rage as she plunged it deep into the exposed arm. A low howl escaped the bandit as the sword went through, his grip around her loose and she fell to the ground.

It was now or never to finish the job. "Now!" Michail called to everyone, taking the initial charge forward.


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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Scribe of Thoth
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Well. That wasn't the response Auberon had been looking for. He'd meant the question genuinely, but he hadn't actually considered what to do if Kellen responded negatively. He wasn't hurt; hurt people didn't run that smoothly. Kellen was just scared then. Auberon's first instinct was to yell at him, but that hardly seemed fair. He hadn't done anything wrong - and more importantly, he hadn't totally given up. Saints, Auberon was scared too, he just wasn't going to give these bastards - or Jorah - the satisfaction of seeing it. Still, if the Fraldarius boy stayed distracted like that, he was as good as dead the moment someone swung at him.

There wasn't exactly time for an impassioned sermon on the protective embrace of the Goddess, either, so Auberon sorely lacked in concise pep talk ideas.

"Hold it together a little bit longer," The blond consoled him awkwardly, "I'll watch your back, but you have to calm down and watch your front too." He didn't bother to look back at the other boy, instead keeping his eyes on the scuffle in front of him. Another consequence of Kellen's freak out was that he'd stopped moving toward the mages, which meant he was no longer the bandit's prime target. Professor Euphemia seemed to have stolen that honor, and Auberon could only tense in horror was he snatched her up by the neck in preparation for an execution. If he used her as a hostage, they were stuck. Auberon's eyes flicked to the side, which granted him minor relief that the ritual looked to have been disrupted. The village was at least safe, regardless of anything this monster of a man could do.

No, it was over for the chief regardless. If he tried to bargain his way out, Auberon had already made up his mind to charge him anyway the moment Euphemia was out of his reach. He probably knew that, though, which meant he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Fortunately, he banked too much on his strength and gave little thought to his own defense, and the professor had wriggled out of his grasp while she delivered the most solid wound on him yet. His blood simmered at Michail's order, aching to deliver a decisive blow. There wouldn't be enough time for Auberon's Crest to flare again if things continued like this, but a reprieve from all of this stress was hardly something to complain about even so.

"You heard him," Auberon ordered brusquely just before he pushed off the ground at a full sprint toward the behemoth in front of them. He raced in toward the man's injured side with his axe low, holding his strike until he'd finished skidding and his feet were dug squarely into the dirt. From there, he hefted his weapon in an upward swing with the intent to sever the brute's already-wounded limb completely at the armpit.


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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Achronum
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“Thank the Goddess you’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that still.” Clarissa teased. Her teasing demeanor quickly changed and she clicked her tongue sympathetically when Isolde revealed the remaining injury. An injury impeding the poor girl’s mobility only deepened the danger she would put both herself and everyone alongside her even if, for whatever reason, Isolde expressed some need to soldier through the pain. But while Clarissa certainly agreed with Derec that it was imperative Isolde find herself attending along the backlines, she debated the logic behind removing a strong asset to the frontlines to achieve it. Losing one person while face to face with a brute blending all the best qualities of strength and speed into every attack was injury to the unit enough; sacrificing two sword arms because of one was even worse.

Her immediate reaction was to argue the point but the exact same argument could be made for her leaving as well. Their commanding officer told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was the primary support for the Unit and her abandoning that position could put anyone in a precarious position if they attacked with the expectation of Clarissa following up shortly after. She wished she had a moment to think but the smoke and the fire and the stench of sweat and blood and ichor whirled in her head like the unholy cacophony it was and she wished she had a moment to think...

Her head snapped up as Michail screamed his sister’s name and she watched in horror as the brute lifted Professor Euphemia in the air by her throat. By the Goddess, what kind of man had the strength to lift a person like a doll with a single hand? Was it even fair to call someone a man after all these atrocities or was it more apt to consider it a monster, it’s compassion and empathy and kindness smoothed beneath the unabashed indulgence in sin? Clarissa loathed to even consider what could have brought this thing to this and so she didn’t. Rather, she found another objective that quickly put to rest her deliberations and she stood, helping Isolde up as she did.

“I have to go help Professor Euphemia. May Goddess keep you safe.” Clarissa bid them farewell, turning her attention back to the assault in front of them. It had dropped Professor Euphemia just next to it, well within range of it’s attacks. Clarissa chewed on her lip as she looked for an opening but even then, it had proved itself capable enough of closing them in short order. She had to get to the Professor before it decided to finish what it started.

Thankfully, the full assault offered her a golden opportunity. Auberon showed no hesitation in following the command and Clarissa saw the path. Even though that thing was strong, she doubted that it would shrug off the devastating swing of an axe embolden with righteous fury. She darted forward, following Auberon and only darting off around the giant once Auberon had sunk his heels in. She practically threw herself at the Professor, wrapping her arms around her, and dragging as quickly as she could back behind the assault before the pair were caught up in the swarm. Clarissa knelt and murmured words of faith as the spell came to life, healing magic glowing around the Professor’s wounds.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Obscene Symphony
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Jorah only stopped his assault when he saw Imogen roll too close to his target, but fortunately, the mage he was aiming at had more than enough arrows in him to take him out of the fight. He watched in muted surprise as the mage with the frightening staff disappeared in a flash of light, but didn’t bother trying to figure it out; instead, satisfied that the ritual had been halted, he left the other mage to the mercy of Imogen’s mania and directed his attention back to the commotion around the giant.

Very much happened at once. The giant was attacked on both sides; Michail’s blow sent the front of the creature’s armguard lolling haphazardly by one strap, and meanwhile, Euphemia managed to get in close enough to knock off its helmet. Seeing the giant’s head exposed set off an alarm in Jorah’s head, honed by years of avid hunting: he was vulnerable. Instinct raised his bow before he consciously registered the situation, but Jorah froze when the monster’s inhumanly quick reflexes kicked in, snatching Euphemia up by the throat.

“Fuck!” he cursed through gritted teeth, forced to reassess. Thankfully, Jorah’s legs moved quicker than his brain, strafing around the giant’s side with an arrow nocked and ready. There was no time to go for a killing shot; with fingertips growing numb from the sting of the bowstring and his quiver lighter than he’d like, he unloaded a rapid series of shots into the monster’s back, focused around its shoulder in hopes he could loosen its grip. If it helped, Jorah couldn’t tell; the thing had a hide like a rhinoceros and it seemed to be Euphemia’s blow that finally shook the beast.

In his periphery, Jorah saw Auberon rush in, and a flash of red—Clarissa?—behind him, breaking off at the last second to attend Euphemia—way too close to the giant for comfort. Skidding to a halt, Jorah planted his feet, cursing unintelligibly under his breath as he pulled one of his few remaining arrows from his quiver, and for once, took a second to line up his shot. The creature faced away from him, and even without a helmet, it had proven itself a tough bastard; for those reasons, Jorah didn’t aim for the back of the head or the neck like he’d have preferred. Instead, blinking through smoke and sweat and stinging tears, he aimed higher, intent on burying his broadhead deep into its ear.

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As hostile footfalls drew near, Lienna bit down hard on her lip, working hard to keep the curses inside her body lest she reveal herself too soon. With nowhere to go and the bandits closing in around her, she slipped underneath the carriage itself, lying prone and watching through the wheel spokes as the feet of bandits became visible through the fog. She held her breath as she watched them, three sets of feet shuffling blindly around until they found each other, exchanging words and curses alike as they searched for their fourth comrade.

Three, Lienna repeated in her head, already creeping to the opposite side of the carriage. But her eyes were locked on the bandits, whose legs faded into barely distinguishable dark spots as they receded into the fog. Moving towards… shit.

“Goddess be good, what is that?!”

“Cethleann’s tits, it’s a monster!”

Shit! Lienna cursed herself, inching faster to the other side of the damnably wide carriage. She hadn’t considered what would happen when they found their comrade’s body—she hadn’t thought anything at all aside from how to escape with her life! And now she didn’t have the luxury of being underestimated; then again, the terrified whimpering she heard a short distance away must mean something. Maybe if they were scared of her, they’d cut their losses and leave the caravan.

A sharp smack rang out through the fog, and the whimpering ceased abruptly. “Don’t be an idiot,” a rough voice reprimanded, “it’s not a monster, it’s magic. Remember? Like the boss uses? That girl is just a mage.”

“But shouldn’t we—”

There was a rustle and some clinking of metal. “If you’re about to suggest we turn tail and run, I will kill you myself,” the rough voice warned. There was another rustle, and then the thump of something heavy falling down. “Use your brain for once. If the boss hears we found a mage like that and didn’t bring her back, we’re as good as fried.”

Panic gripped her at that, and Lienna was done listening. An awful, awful feeling stirred inside her, screaming at her with disturbing familiarity to get as far away as possible. She didn’t waste any more time: while the bandits discussed, she shimmied out from under the carriage and broke into a sprint straight out from the caravan. She’d find the edge of the fog cloud and keep going and… and… well, she didn’t care how she did it, but she’d get away somehow. Maybe break into the trees or jump into the river, it didn’t matter.

She just ran, footsteps thundering much too loudly in the grass.

She could already hear the bandits start to shout and move as she saw the light of day begin to penetrate the fog, and she burst out of the cloud like a woman possessed, searching frantically for cover. The forest was ahead of her, and—Veronica?!

Lienna skidded to a halt in front of the brunette, only narrowly avoiding bowling her over. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The brunette threw a scowl Lienna's way, crossing her arms. "Looking for you, what else?" Her response was oddly calm. "Either the carriages have given you trouble or something is afoot, I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it's the latter."

Lienna didn’t really hear Veronica’s words, her mind racing as she looked frantically between the princess and the shouts inside the fog. As the silhouettes of bandits began to distinguish themselves from the mist, she made a snap decision, grabbing Veronica roughly by the arm and throwing her, with all her might, towards the fog.

Veronica yelped as she was thrown, stumbling forward and disappearing into the mist. The dark splotches of bandits converged on her immediately, and Lienna watched with hard eyes as the silhouettes moved, raising her wand when she heard the sounds of struggle.

“Freeze!” she shouted, thrusting the wand forward. The same unfamiliar symbol flashed before her, and a powerful burst of magic sprang forth again, icicles stabbing up from the ground and racing through the fog. There was a short chorus of yelping, and the disturbingly wet sounds of flesh pierced by ice. Then all she could hear was her heart in her ears.

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