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Snippet #2781768

located in Fódlan, a part of Fire Emblem: Apotheosis, one of the many universes on RPG.

Fódlan

A continent divided into three different factions: The Adrestian Empire, The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Senka Rinaldi Character Portrait: Amalthea von Kreuz Character Portrait: Mercer von Riegan Character Portrait: Cyril Eisner Character Portrait: Vridel von Hresvelg Character Portrait: Sorcha Blaiddyd Character Portrait: Jeralt's Journal
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I.Y. 1180 - Great Tree Moon - Sunday the 26th
Garreg Mach Monastery (Outskirts) - Morning - Cloudy
Senka Rinaldi


Senka had woken rather earlier than normal. She wanted to be sure she would be ready for the morning's mock battle, and didn't want to leave anything unchecked. She'd pulled her hair back into a high tail, mostly so that it wouldn't be in her face, and to keep it out of her eyes. It wouldn't be beneficial if she were distracted or her vision impaired. She was slightly grateful that she had, since the air was rather warm outside. A bit humid, perhaps, because of yesterday's light drizzle, but the tunics they were wearing were helpful in keeping cool. According to the information they'd been given, these tunics were designed to bleed out the color once they'd take a certain amount of damage.

Each house had their respective colors: Golden Deer were given yellow tunics, Black Eagles were red, and Blue Lions had a pale blue. The blue contrasted with Senka, but she didn't mind. They were here for a battle, if nothing else, and she was rather excited about it. She'd spent the last few days practicing her magic spells, and a couple of ones Vridel had taught her. She wasn't quite confident in those spells, yet, but she was satisfied with them, nonetheless. She glanced over her team, watching as Amalthea fiddled with her tunic, and her axe. Sylvi had also chosen an axe, but seemed more comfortable with it than Amalthea did hers.

Senka had elected to use a sword along with her magic. After all, magic was not infinite, and she wouldn't be able to use it endlessly. She still needed a way to defend herself. “I'm so excited, I can't wait!" Amalthea spoke excitedly, turning her attention towards Senka.

“I know the feeling. This is our first battle; I'm excited to put to use what Professor has taught us," Sylvi added. Senka only nodded in agreement.

Sorcha wore her tunic over very light chainmail; rather than just pulling her hair back, she'd braided it around her head to keep it firmly in place and to avoid her usual problems with pins and such. She was equipped with both a training lance and a bow, including a quiver of soft-tipped arrows. It was hard to check blows with arrows and magic especially, so they'd all been instructed in ways to compensate: spells were to be cast at minimum power only, and the blunt arrows were not to be aimed for the head or eyes. There was still some risk, of course, but the school had brought along several additional healers besides just those on each team.

Healing spells would apparently return some color to the tunics if applied, so that should work basically as normal, at least.

For his part, Professor Cyril carried no weapons at all; his own version of the tunic had no sleeves whatsoever, though his arms from the elbows down were wrapped in bandage-like fabric, protecting them a bit, it seemed. He had a few scars on his upper arms, but it was rather clear just from looking at them that he was in exceptional fighting shape. Certainly moreso than Professors Hanneman or Manuela seemed to be, or any of the students besides. He raked a hand back through his dark hair, slightly mussed from the breeze drifting over the field. A rogue strand of it fell across his nose, but if it impeded his vision, he gave no indication.

Across the field, the other teams were getting set up as well. Vridel was easily identifiable by the bright white color of his hair; the tall man next to him had to be Reynard. The Golden Deer were slightly closer, but partly shielded by a small copse of trees, a tactical advantage designed to compensate for their somewhat middling position.

The Professor's eyes swung to his assembled students; he exhaled the slightest huff at Devon struggling to string his bow. He managed it, though, and slung it over his back. At his waist were several knives. Making sure he had everyone's attention, Cyril spoke. “The other teachers and I have decided that the first part of this battle is yours to decide how to handle. We don't have much time, so we have to decide quickly on a strategy. What would you like to do?"

That was not unusual given their trainings, she supposed. She merely glanced at her teammates, Amalthea lost in her own thoughts it seemed, and Sylvi seemed to contemplate what Professor Cyril had stated. “At the moment, the Golden Deer House has the advantage with their position. And it wouldn't be wise to split up and attack both houses at once," she began speaking. Senka could see some logic to that. If they split up their forces, they'd be outnumbered either way they went.

“Let's go after the Black Eagles, then," Amalthea suggested. “If we take them out, first, then the Golden Deer will be an easy sweep, right? After all, you said they would provide the least resistance to us," she continued, glancing in Cyril's direction.

“That does not mean you underestimate them, Thea. Even if we said that they weren't as much of a challenge, does not mean they wouldn't give us one," Senka spoke, watching as Amalthea's face fell, slightly. She didn't mean to be so straightforward, but that had been the first basic rule of war: never underestimate your opponent no matter how favorable the odds are.

“Perhaps we should go after the Golden Deer, then. The quicker we deal with them, the quicker we can move on to our biggest competitors," Sylvi spoke, but Senka merely narrowed her eyes.

“I agree; we should hit the Golden Deer, first. They are closer, and it will give us some time to deal with them before the Black Eagles have a chance to reach us," she stated, glancing in Sorcha's direction.

“Don't forget that they're able to move unimpeded, too," Sorcha pointed out. “I could see Mercer waiting it out if we attacked the Eagles because his position is so good, But Vivi's isn't better or worse than ours. He might choose to fall on our flank as soon as we're committed to the attack. Splitting up might not be good, but we should definitely keep some people watching for that."

Devon nodded. “Maybe those of us in the back line keep an eye on them since we aren't in quite as much danger from the front? If they come around we can be ready to switch to melee. As long as we keep each other updated on where we're needed and what's going on, we can focus on downing the Deer first and just fend off the Eagles as much as we absolutely have to until we're ready to fight them as a team."

“Very well," Cyril said evenly. “Then who are our front and back lines?"

“Amalthea and I can take the front lines," Sylvi stated, grinning in Thea's direction. Her attention went towards Devon and Sorcha, after that. “Devon, since you and Sorcha are the best archers we have, you two can stay in the back." Senka could see that. It would mean that the archers could at least engage from behind and keep each other updated. Sorcha was also good with a lance, so if the need did arise to switch to melee, Sorcha could defend herself. Finally, Sylvi's eyes landed on Senka, a strange light in them that she wasn't sure what to make of.

“And you, you're pretty decent with magic, right?" she asked. Senka could only nod in response. “Good, then you can come with Thea and myself on the front lines," she stated.

“Very well," she replied, glancing at her classmates. “Does that mean Professor will be staying behind, as well, in the back lines?" she stated, her eyes drifting towards Cyril. If they were going to split up, it made sense to keep the numbers even. Sorcha and Devon could provide support from a distance with their arrows, and Cyril bring up the rear if they had to resort to melee. Knowing how talented each House was, Senka did not doubt that it would come down to that.

“I think the Professor should stay fluid, so he can go anywhere he needs to," Sorcha offered. “A lot of this I think is going to depend on being adaptable, so we should all be ready to move, but having someone who's already planning on it would help shore up any defenses we need to reinforce quickly."

It would seem Cyril found this agreeable enough, for he nodded.

If he'd been about to say something, though, it was cut off when a loud voice rang out over the field. “All right everyone!" The speaker appeared to be Jeralt, his voice magically amplified to carry easily. He stood atop the nearby hill, the Archbishop and Lady Lyanna nearby, along with the spare healers the monastery had brought. “Only attack like you were instructed to, because only hits to tunics count. As soon as someone's tunic turns grey they're out, and should come to this hill. Hitting someone after they're out means you're out too, automatically. We're here to learn, not kill each other for real. Last person standing wins for their House. Begin!"

Sylvi wasted no time, and began moving towards the Golden Deer, a strange smirk adorning her features. Senka would have put it down to excitement, but it seemed a little different than that. Amalthea was right behind Sylvi, and with a spare glance towards Sorcha and Cyril, so was Senka. They moved at a rather even pace. Not too fast that they would tire themselves out before they even reached the Golden Deer, and not too slow that they were leaving their ranged fighters in the back for too long.

“Man, here I was hoping you and the Black Eagles would fight among yourselves, first. Not come after us," Mercer spoke when they were close enough. He didn't seem too disappointed, though, if the smile on his face was anything to go by. Sylvi merely laughed, but said nothing as they closed in. “I really don't want to do this, but..." he started, trailing off as his eyes went to Dierdre and Sofia, “Dierdre, you and Sofia are up. I'll provide you with some support."

“Let's give it our all!" Amalthea stated, raising her axe over her head as she ran towards them. Senka sighed softly, stopping a good distance away as Mercer fixed an arrow to his bow. She, at least, knew what he was capable of, having seen him training with Sorcha. She could try and provide cover for Sylvi and Amalthea from the arrows, but that would leave her exposed to the other archers on his team. She would have to make due with her sword, for now.

“Hey you! Fight me!" a voice called out, causing Senka to turn her attention towards the source, narrowly dodging a small fire attack. It was Dierdre, and it seemed she wanted to make Senka her opponent. Gripping her sword in her hand, she obliged.

In the line behind, there was time enough to provide ranged support, it seemed. Spells and arrows alike went flying for the very front line, where Sylvi had engaged Sofia, who was set firmly in position to defend Mercer. As promised, though, they kept themselves flexible, and so when the Black Eagles appeared on their flank, they were prepared, leaving the softened Golden Deer line for their melee fighters and turning their attention on where Vridel, Reynard, and a heavily armored man were making a swift charge forward, supported mostly by mages, from the look of it.

Cyril was quickest to react, rolling out of the way of a wind spell and sending a dark magic blast of some sort back towards the mage-in-training who'd fired it. The color on his tunic flashed, dangerously close to greying out before it stabilized. He fended off the armored fellow with the axe, smoothly catching his arm on the downswing and twisting to disarm before sending him back with a kick square to the chest. It looked like he could have done something more damaging, but his motions were clearly restrained.

Sylvi looked like she was having some trouble with Sofia. The woman had a slight height advantage, and from their physique's alone, was more muscled than Sylvi. She had more strength, and was probably able to hit just a bit harder. Sylvi had been mostly on the defensive side, blocking attacks when she couldn't do them, herself, and attacking only when there had been an apparent opening. Most of the color on their tunics were dangerously close to grey, but Sylvi seemed determined to win.

She brought her axe up, swinging down hard towards Sofia. “You've been a good opponent, but I think it's time we end this!"

Sofia's only response was to stab forward with her lance. Both attacks hit at the same time, and both bled the remaining color from their tunics, signaling that both girls were out. They vacated quickly, heading towards the hill so as not to obstruct things.

Meanwhile, Cyril, Devon, and Sorcha were doing their best to hold the Eagles at bay. The axe-wielding man had been knocked out by a solid chest-shot from the Princess, but another front-liner had stepped up to fill his spot—mostly distracting Cyril, by the looks of it. Vridel was haranguing both Sorcha and Devon at the same time, while Reynard had seemingly disappeared. Maybe he was out?

By the time Senka had managed to deal with Dierdre—she'd left for a different opponent who must have taken her out since she was scowling on the hill with Sofia—Senka still had color on her tunic, but not quite as much as she'd started with. Amalthea, still full of color, had made her way back towards the other three, and Senka followed suit. Immediately, though, Amalthea's smile grew on her face as she headed straight towards Vridel.

“Vridel! You promised to be my opponent!" she shouted, causing someone to laugh. From the sounds of it, it was likely Mercer who laughed. He'd joined the fray as well, making his way towards the group fighting, but still keeping a relatively safe distance from it all. He was likely waiting for the others to drop before he made his own move. Senka was fine with that. She sent a small fire ball in the direction of the front-liner distracting her Professor.

“I will be your opponent," she stated softly, raising a hand out in front of her while keeping her sword in the other. To anyone else, it might have seemed like she were mocking the person, however; that was not her intention.

Sorcha had turned her attention on the people immediately in front of Mercer, perhaps intending to carve a line to the Duke's heir herself. Cyril nodded when Senka drew off one of his opponents, and proceeded to swap his attention to the other. Devon started in on the Black Eagles' nearly untouched back line, trying to make each shot count by standing behind Senka and Cyril to prevent counterattacks.

Vridel had abandoned his previous course, making it easier for Devon and Sorcha to switch tacks, as soon as Amalthea had called out. He wore a smile of all things as he sheathed his sword and reached back, drawing an axe from his belt. “So I did," he said, lunging into a run to meet her halfway, swinging the axe with controlled strength and the momentum of his charge.

Amalthea let out a strange sound, something mixed with delight and frustration as she tried to block Vridel's attack. Even with his controlled strength, Amalthea was pushed back a bit, and staggered. She was barely able to get her balance back before she charged at Vridel, axe raised once more as she flung her entire body in his direction. It appeared she was throwing all of her weight into that one attack, which was strangely endearing to Senka.

Or it would have been if she weren't fending off her own opponent. Mercer seemed slightly surprised when Sorcha came his way, but grinned and pulled his bow from his back. “Let's see just how much you've improved, eh, Princess?" he stated, clearly trying to rile her up as he usually did. He fit an arrow to his bow and aimed it in Sorcha's direction, one eye closed and the other narrowed, before releasing it.

Vridel turned Amalthea's strike aside, though he seemed almost surprised by the strength of it for a moment, before his smile widened and he retaliated with a flurry of quick blows. “Not bad," he said, “but don't unbalance yourself now. You need to keep solid feet if you want to defend anything."

On the other side, Mercer's taunting seemed to be having an effect; Sorcha used her lance to strike the last blow on the only soldier between them, and then tried to duck the arrow. She wasn't quite successful; it struck her in the shoulder regardless, leeching more of the blue from her tunic, and she threw the lance down and drew an arrow instead, twisting away from the chaotic tangle not far from her flank and firing. To her credit, it was quick, and there was no hesitation in the shot—it flew unerringly for Mercer's chest.

“Right, keep balance and solid feet!" she echoed, trying her best to defend against Vridel's attacks. One of them did manage to hit her near her shoulder, though, causing some of the color to bleed from her tunic. She did her best to dig her feet into the ground, though, as she made a horizontal swipe towards Vridel.

Mercer seemed genuinely surprised by the accuracy of Sorcha's arrow and moved so that it caught him on his right shoulder blade, causing some of his color to fade. “Shouldn't have underestimated you," he stated in a leisurely tone, an arrow already fitted to his bow. Unlike Sorcha's quick release, he waited, watching Sorcha's movements with a strange intensity, before he released his arrow.

Sorcha, apparently knowing trying to dodge that would be futile, used the time to release one more quick arrow before the one Mercer had fired caught her dead-on the sternum. Though there'd been quite a bit of blue left in her tunic, it faded completely then—it seemed striking 'vital' areas was proportionately effective, then.

The Princess looked down at her tunic, sighed heavily, and smiled just a bit, giving Mercer a wry salute before shuffling off the field to join the others. By this point, the competitors had thinned considerably, only one or two left from each side, plus teachers. The Blue Lions were doing slightly better than most, at least until Vridel landed another quick hit on Amalthea.

“Nice work," he said simply, replacing the axe and drawing his sword. “You're already better." White light briefly engulfed him, brightening his tunic back to blood-red, but he and professor Hanneman appeared to be the only ones left on the field for the Eagles. Professor Manuela and Mercer were the sole representatives of the Deer, while the Lions had Senka, Devon, and Professor Cyril.

For his part, the Professor cracked his knuckles. “They're going to join up and attack us first," he said, apparently completely certain. “Stay behind, and watch for Reynard. I don't think he's out yet. Otherwise, cover me. Can you do that?"

“I will," she replied, nodding her head in his direction. I can, didn't seem like the right words to her, and it was something she felt she had to do. She hadn't had time to assess Reynard's skills on the field, and it was likely that he was just biding his time. Smart, if she were being honest, and so she gripped her sword a little tighter, and scanned the field. There was no obvious sign of him, but Senka knew better than most that just because it wasn't obvious didn't mean it wasn't there.

Mercer had begun his next assault on Devon, perhaps because he was trying to take out their only archer. He had a strange smile on his face, though. It wasn't the grin he usually wore when he teased Sorcha, nor was it the same one that he wore with Vridel. It seemed more genuine, as if something had made him happy.

Devon fired back as much as he could, but it was evident that he was the worse shot, and he quickly ducked a bit behind Cyril for cover. The professor didn't seem to mind. When Hanneman and Manuela sent two offensive spells at him at once, he blasted them out of the air with the force of his own. “Let's go."

He charged, meeting the Eagles' front line first, which at the moment was, well, Vridel. Somehow, he managed to dodge the Professor's first swing, but he had to throw himself to the ground to do it, and before his retaliatory flames could do more than singe the very edge of Cyril's tunic, he'd let fly another of the dark magic spells, and Vridel's tunic lost all the color it had previously regained.

“S-Senka, I don't think I can hold him on my own," Devon said. There were only slight traces of blue left in his tunic. While Mercer's had seen better days, too, he was clearly doing better than the other archer was.

Senka felt her eyes narrow in Mercer's direction, and she moved towards Devon just in time to knock one of Mercer's arrows away from Devon with her sword. She released a fire attack towards Mercer to get his attention, and when she did, she sighed softly. With her hand outstretched, she summoned her black magic: Miasma. It probably wasn't the best spell to use at the moment, considering it took a decent amount of time to gather, but Senka needed to get Mercer away from Devon. Otherwise they would be down one more person.

And Senka would rather it be her, than Devon.

“Sorry, lady, but you left yourself wide open." The voice, roughened probably by all the smoking he did, belonged obviously to Reynard, and the point of his practice blade touched the base of her spine a moment later. Once, twice, three times before she could so much as react to his presence. It registered easily with the magic on the tunic, which turned promptly completely grey, only for Vridel's attendant to slide out from behind her.

He didn't manage to retreat before a heavy hand caught him by the collar and yanked him back, Cyril landing two body blows and putting him out. He took a hit from Manuela while thus distracted, leeching a little more blue, but this time the magic he shot back took her out too, until the only people left on the field were Hanneman, Mercer, Devon, and Professor Cyril.

It was strange. Senka hadn't registered the time when she was attacked, and when she left the field. She had blinked, a strange chill going down her spine, and when her eyes opened, she was in the company of Amalthea and Sorcha. Something felt off and she wasn't quite sure what it was. She was brought from her thoughts when a small body latched itself to her, and she had to lower her gaze to see what it was.

“We were cheering for you, Senka!" Amalthea stated, turning her head so that she was staring up at Senka. “You did great! Now you can cheer with us for Professor Cyril and Devon! Oh, and Mercer, since Vridel's with us, too," she stated, finally releasing Senka. The words hardly registered in Senka's mind, though.

“I'm not cheering for him," Sorcha groused. “I hope the Professor teaches him a lesson." she sniffed, then seemed to notice Senka's absent state, because she tilted her head and spoke a little more quietly. “You okay, Sen?"

She blinked slowly at Sorcha, but nodded her head. “I'm fine. I was just caught off guard. I should not have allowed myself to be open like that," she replied, but it felt too... automatic. There was nothing in her voice, too, and Senka furrowed her brows. Shaking her head, she pulled in a deep breath, before releasing it slowly. “I think we are on the cusp of winning, though," she stated, turning her attention back towards the field.

Mercer had renewed his assault on Devon, and it seemed that Professor Hanneman had focused most of his magic attacks on Cyril.

“Okay," Sorcha said, reaching over to squeeze Senka's shoulder gently. She didn't quite seem sure of the answer either, but she rarely pushed when it came to things like this.

On the field, Devon held off as long as he could, but eventually succumbed to Mercer's arrows, leaving them down to the final three. Professor Cyril must have judged Professor Hanneman to be the greater threat, because he ducked a barrage of flames and charged across the field towards him. Curiously, thrumming, curling magic surrounded his hands, licking up his arms like dark fire, and when he threw a fist forward, the impact took Professor Hanneman off his feet, his tunic immediately draining of all color.

Cyril whirled then, throwing a bolt of the same magic for Mercer.

Mercer wasn't as quick, though. He was hit with the magic, draining the rest of his tunic's color. Senka could see he was groaning, but what should have been a joyous occasion didn't quite reach Senka the way it should have. She registered the fact that they won, and that Amalthea and the others were cheering, but she couldn't bring herself to do the same. She didn't understand why; something felt vaguely familiar, a situation, perhaps, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Instead, she clapped slowly along with the others as her way of cheering. It would have to do, for now. She could hear the crowds calming, though, as Jeralt cleared his throat, perhaps to make the announcement official.

“And that's that," he said, gruffly but with an apparent smile in his tone, too. “The winner of this mock battle is the Blue Lion House!"

The Archbishop wore a strange little smile at the announcement, her attention focused rather keenly on where Professor Cyril was helping Mercer to his feet. Beside her, it almost seemed that Lady Lyanna looked worried for a moment before she suppressed it, face returning to her usual stern expression.

“We won!" Amalthea shouted enthusiastically, making her way towards Vridel. Senka wasn't quite sure what Amalthea was going to do, until the young woman threw herself in his direction, and latched onto him the same way she'd done to Senka, earlier. “And thank you for helping me, and teaching me a valuable lesson on the field!" she stated, squeezing a little tighter as she hugged Vridel.

Vridel's eyes immediately went wide; honestly he was so stiff it was hard to tell if he even knew what a hug was, let alone if he'd ever been given one before. Tentatively, he patted her head, grimacing and looking rather unsure of himself. “You're... welcome," he said after a moment. “And congratulations, I suppose."

“Don't I get a hug, too?" Mercer's voice cut in, a lopsided grin on his face. His attention was on Sorcha, though, when he spoke. He'd apparently made his way towards their spot on the hill without Senka noticing.

Sorcha looked unsure for a moment, almost as though she were actually considering it. Her face flushed, but then she cleared her throat. “I'm sure Thea would be happy to," she replied with a sniff, but she sounded almost like she was sulking.

“But I was asking, you," he stated, his lips pursing into a fine line. The smile never left his eyes, though, as he laughed. “And in all honesty, I have to admit, I'm kind of surprised, Sorcha. I'm really proud of how far you've come. Hell, my shoulder still kind of hurts from where you hit me," he stated, sounding rather genuine. He rubbed his shoulder as if to emphasize the point, however; Senka merely felt her features smooth out. It was almost as if she wanted to smile, but she couldn't quite bring herself to.

Sorcha cleared her throat, looking down at her feet and mumbling something that sounded vaguely like “thank you."

Amalthea had finally released Vridel at this point, and was smiling just as brightly as she usually did. “We still need to thank Professor, too! Oh, and we'll need to celebrate! You and Vridel and the others are coming, too!" she stated, earning a light chuckle from Mercer. She was rather excited, it seemed, at the idea.

It was at this point that the professor himself appeared, looking much the same as he always did. Aside from a few scorch marks on his tunic, he could have simply gone for a morning run, for all that his expression showed any strain from his exertions.

“I believe I heard something about a celebration," he said. “Shall we?"