Fire Emblem: Wretched Whispers, Act 2: Warpath

[MRDRHAWK]

[spoiler=Does The Sheep Count The Sheep? (Pre-Tourney)]Declan was worn out from his training with Louis. There was no hiding it, the swordsman had tuckered himself out with his training, for one reason or another, prompting Louis to call the session off when he did and send Declan away to get some rest, something that Declan was more than glad to oblige.

While he'd eventually gotten some rest, he didn't get too much, and ultimately ended up just pacing around for a while. Maybe it was the adrenaline that he'd built up from the sparring, or the fact that his mental state felt... well, it felt like shit. After all, he was in a very poor mindset full of self-doubt, and that couldn't be good... for his chances in the circuit, or in that tournament...

Shit. The tournament.

Declan felt like throwing up - then again, there wouldn't have been much for him to vomit out anyways. He'd forgotten about the tournament and was about to be involved in some serious fights - nothing to the death, but still dangerous. And it was, according to the innkeeper, nearly time for the tournament. That... couldn't be good for Declan's chances.

Right?

And as Declan left the inn to leave for the tournament, a well-dressed man carrying a rather ornate-looking sword followed. After all, he had a job to do, and he suspected that the man who'd just left the inn - who fit his master's description perfectly - was the target.

[spoiler=Junkyard Dog (Vs. Merc 4 and Mahuika)]As it turned out, Declan didn't need a ton of sleep to get past his first couple of opponents. Well, the first one, anyway, considering he went down in literally one hit. Apparently the training did some good for him after all.

The second opponent he fought - a mage with an odd tome that seemed to materialize as a lance - was a lot tougher. Granted, he'd borrowed an axe from some guy with a horse that was apparently also in the tourney that helped him to a rather surprising degree, but he still had trouble connecting on any of his blows. Eventually, however, his weapon held true, and he was onto the third round.

Breathing heavily, Declan glanced into the crowd and noticed the well-dressed man, but paid him no mind. However, the man on the other side was resolute in his work - this was assuredly the man he was searching for. Picking up his sword, the man rushed through the crowd and made his way outside.

[spoiler=Starry Story (Intermission)]Declan was still beat as shit. He could feel something hurting in around his ribs - was he breathing too heavily and putting strain on his lungs, or did he take a too-hard hit to the chest against that mage? The swordsman didn't have a chance to figure out which, for he was beset upon by the well-dressed man, holding the sword in his hands. Declan sighed as he saw the man with the sword approaching, and slumped over just a tiny bit.

Shit. I guess I'm not making it to round three after all...

"Would you by chance be Master Declan Blackmoor of the Irskan Blackmoor family?" The dapper man questioned the clearly fatigued swordsman, as Declan slowly wrenched his body up to its full height and studied the man intently.

Wait, what? This guy... wait, shit. He looks familiar.

"Who the hell..." Then it hit Declan like a ton of bricks. "Argus?! Holy shit, you've... gotten old." Now he remembered; the man before him was his family's servant - former servant? - Argus, and one of the few people Declan ever even considered opening up to in any way. Considering the others, at least, that he would admit to, were the deceased Arietta and his maybe-new-flame Vale, it said a lot as to how significant the gentleman was to him.

"And you have grown into a fine young warrior... something I did not think I would be able to say about you two years prior." Argus replied, bowing as Declan winced at the mere mention of the incident two years ago. Even now, the very memory of that fateful day still haunted Declan to the core...

Arietta's pained cries as the magic from her tome - nothing more than a simple Flux tome, at that - was flung around indiscriminately, hitting both friend, foe and innocent bystander alike.

The screams of average citizens being flung around like ragdolls, some of whom were simply brutalized by the out-of-control magic itself and were dead before reaching the ground once more, and some who were flung into hard stone walls that shattered their spines and at the very least crippled them, if not outright killed them due to a significantly lower brain activity.

The constant yells from his former boss, Eduardo, to put Arietta down before she was completely swallowed by her magic, and his yelling at everyone else in their band of thieves and other looters to grab anything they could sell for good coin in the confusion...

"Master Declan... I have both a gift and a message for you." Argus's words snapped Declan back into the present. As Declan glanced towards the sword in Argus's hands, ill-concealed by the fabric he'd chosen - Argus was never any good with fabrics, Declan mused - he was able to pretty accurately gather the terms of what both of those would entail, as Declan winced yet again.

"... Dad's dead, isn't he?" Declan grumbled as he took a step forward towards Argus, hand twitching as if to take the blade in his hands and never let go. The blade was truely a fine sight, if you were an expert on that sort of thing; the blade was a deep red in the middle and black at the edges, with a slight serration on one side that was meant to aid in cutting opponents to bits. Assuming, of course, the finely-sharpened tip wasn't simply thrust into the enemy's chest or stomach. "Which, I figure, is why he's sent you to give me the Clarent. Right, old man?" This time, it was Argus who appeared to be uneasy. Declan stopped in his tracks at this sight, which sent a fair few rather unpleasant thoughts swirling through his head.

Just what the hell's got Argus so freaked? That's not like him...

"Yes, Master Declan... I'm afraid your father is gone, and as such, House Blackmoor is yours to lord over as you see fit." A pause, and a hitch in Declan's breath. "However, I must confess that it's likely that there is very little remaining in the house to oversee to begin with. Not after... what happened." Argus's voice seemed to hang low at the last statement, as Declan took a quick step back.

"Wh-what do you mean, old man? My father wouldn't let anything like that happen to the estate, would he?" Declan felt uneasy with each passing moment; every syllable out of both of their mouths felt like tiny daggers aiming directly for Declan's throat and chest. Granted, that may have been his earlier fatigue, but...

"My apologies, Master Declan, but... we were beset by a large raiding party that had apparently come all the way from... well, from Handres." Declan could feel his chest burning from within as Argus let out a deep breath and continued. "It would seem that Eduardo was able to exact some sort of revenge against you after all, Master Declan. As I was informed after the attack, it was him who cut your father down."

Declan could barely breathe, especially not with the weight of this news falling squarely upon him. Not only was his father dead and his estate in ruins, but now Eduardo was not only back in action, but on the warpath and out for blood... both his and his family's? On top of the whole matter of his new group fighting with the undead, his growing and not-entirely-sure feelings for Vale, and his general bodily pain and fatigue in general?

Declan felt like he was about to die then and there.

Wordlessly, Argus gave Declan the Clarent - or, rather, placed it into the man's arms - and took a bow. "I am sorry, Master Declan. I'm afraid there is nothing more I can do for you. What must be done now... is up to you." As Argus turned to leave Declan for the final time, he paused and gave the pained swordsman a knowing smile. "I have every confidence that you will be more than capable of accomplishing all that you set out to do from now on, Master Declan. Your conviction is strong, and you appear to have something to fight for now... I trust that you will not give up, even in the face of this despair."

As Argus left, a burly man helping organize the tournament approached Declan. "Oi, lad, th' next round o' the tourney's about ta start. Yer up soon, go git yer arse in gear." The man gruffly replied as he hefted Declan up to his feet, before glancing at the sword in his arms. "Nice sword there, lad. Ye may want ta use it now, considering who yer up against next."

All Declan could do was nod and trudge on.

[spoiler=Engage (Vs. Sierra)]As Declan was led back into the arena filled with cheering fans, he was met by the gaze of an opponent he dreaded fighting: Sierra, the woman who was apparently close to the dark mage who traveled with the group to the city, the one who befriended Melanie during their past encounter.

Swallowing loudly, Declan took a half-hearted fighting stance as the battle began. Declan took one swing, felt his chest seemingly groan in pain, and was met with three quick slashes to his now-exposed back. Declan could tell right away that he was gone; dead to rights as the master of ceremonies began to declare Sierra as the winner.

As Declan fell over, he didn't grunt in pain, smile in relief, or... anything. He simply fell, and fell hard. The Clarent, newly obtained and already wielded in a losing effort by its new master, clattered out of his hands, and everything felt dark. Maybe now he could get some damn sleep, now that his battles were done... even if only for a moment or two?

[spoiler=Black Blank Blah Blah Blah (Aftermath)]Even in spite of everything, Declan's head still felt much too foggy for someone that had to fight for a living.

As he woke up in some sort of crude makeshift medical bed, Declan took a minute to consider everything that had happened to him over the last few weeks, and what it all meant for him.

First, he joined the Hollows, a mercenary group that ended up entangled in affairs involving... what could only be described as monsters. Revenants, skeletal warriors, floating eyes of a dark magical power, and even ferocious hellhounds. That was enough to make his head spin when he'd first encountered the damnable things.

Then, he ended up meeting, getting closer to, and possibly-maybe falling for one of the swordsmen in the group, Vale, which, considering his last notable intimate relationship, made Declan's skin crawl slightly. Not at the mere thought of intimacy with Vale, but what it could mean for the swordsman in the long run.

On top of that, he was back in familiar territory - territory he very likely plundered in the past - which brought back memories long thought repressed (to a degree), which kept tormenting him mentally and made it none the easier to speak to the aforementioned Vale.

And finally, he found that his family - or his father at least - was now dead, with only his sword, the Clarent, to remember him by, while the Blackmoor estate lay in disarray and his former boss, Eduardo, with whom he'd parted on... less-than-friendly terms... was seemingly hunting him down to kill him in retaliation for leaving his deplorable band of pillagers.

Declan let out a scream and slumped back down onto the bed - and his currently injured back. Right. The cuts are still fairly fresh... They won't have healed up just yet. Declan grumbled and tried to close his eyes to get a bit more rest, but to no avail. Probably due to the commotion outside that featured voices that sounded a bit too familiar, but that Declan couldn't be bothered to investigate.

He had to quiet his own internal chaos first because he could fix anyone else's.

[Percivalé]

[spoiler=vale reflects on round 1; also foreshadowing]The first guy was rather easy, to say the least. He couldn't get a hit in even if Vale were cemented to the ground, or just a big stone statue in front of him, even. He felt bad because he had taunted the guy a little--"Try a little harder! That strength'll get you nowhere if you use it like that!" He bit his lip. He didn't have that many opportunities to brag about his fighting skills or what-have-you, especially not lately; the adrenaline coursed through him like wildfire, spreading all down along his spine so suddenly he nearly ran laps around the arena messing with the guy.

Wildfire. Funny, that. Even now, every time he got this way, he could still smell the smoke.

He remembered once a few years ago when he and the guys were hunting he watched a rabbit flee all the way down one of the jagged cliffs jutting straight out of the pass, only to reappear further along the landscape a mile away where he could still see from the peak of the hill. He had decided to let it go because that sheer will to live was nothing to mess with. Perhaps it was diseased, and thought that by trying harder than usual it could escape the death it already knew was coming. Just the animal instinct, he knew. The other mercenaries were trailing behind him, perhaps occupied by some other game; he didn't call them over for the rabbit. He merely stood there as its hind legs dug deep into the jagged, fertile earth, springing it forward as far away from the approaching humans as possible.

That wasn't this guy, that's for sure. Vale took him down easily. Rather than watch the matches left over before the second round, the swordsman took a few minutes to let his body cool down. Wouldn't want another bar incident to happen again, he thought in passing. But something odd struck him as he jostled his way through the roaring crowd out into the lobby.

[spoiler=chance encounter (possibly the illuminati)]

He didn't notice the figure approach him, nor did he get a good look at him before the figure dissolved back into the amorphous crowd. But he heard the words clearly whispered into his ear:

"He's still alive."

Startled, Vale turned and shouted something but the crowd was too thick and only pushed him forward. He let himself flow forward to the outside but there wasn't enough time before the second round was announced. He gathered himself. He still searched all around him as he re-entered the arena--his upcoming battle wasn't even on his mind anymore. His footsteps were heavy and his mind was racing. "Hey!" He shouted, but the crowd's noise drowned him out. But he saw the trailing green hair.

He continued to work his way across the crowd. "Yer up next after this one," he heard an organizer behind him. He noted Vale's visible distress. "I heard it's against yer boss. Ya better not be chickening out on me now." The man behind him chuckled and continued on his way to rally the other contestants. Vale spat behind him as he left. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder--

"Too close for comfort, there."

Vale spun around again, this time nearly losing his balance--he stumbled over his feet. "Too close for comfort, you say," he retorted. The green-haired man chuckled.

"Sorry. You were freaking out a little. Listen, I can't be here very long..." He fumbled in his robes for something, eventually pulling from them a small parcel. "Heard things about local mercenary groups. Figured maybe I'd try my chance." He offered the parcel to Vale, who merely stared at him, dumbfounded.

But a name finally tumbled from his mouth as he took the package. "Noah--"

"Shhh," The man interrupted. "Sorry, I'm pretty paranoid these days. Call me Ruarc."

"You're... alive."

"Yeah. So's Jackson. I figured you got that message already."

Vale cringed. He hoped he'd never have to hear that name again. "N--Ruarc," He started, but stopped. He didn't know what to say to him. He didn't even know if this was the true Noah he fought with those years ago. He studied Noah's appearance--his pine green hair was so much longer now, longer than even his own, trailing all the way down to his waist. His face was sharper, a little more caved in now. His dark eyes sagged. He certainly seems like he's been through a lot. But then, how...

"I'm the only one left," Noah continued. He glanced behind him for a second, by ritual instinct. "Well, besides you, anyway. The pastor told me you were still alive too. That's from him," he gestured to the package now in Vale's hand. "I don't know what's in it."

"Ruarc," Vale choked, but Noah held a finger to his lips.

"Don't worry about me. I know what you want to say."

"It's... good to see you again."

"Likewise." The booming voice came suddenly from behind them--the organizer came back around.

"Yer up now. You, get back to the stands," He gestured to Noah. "This area's off-limits to spectators." He stayed to watch the two leave.

"Will you be--around, after this?" Vale managed to ask. Noah shrugged vaguely.

"I don't know. Perhaps." His expression seemed doubtful. "I'm watching this match, though, so you better do well!" He gave Vale a playful shove forward.

"Of course," was all Vale could respond before the organizer finally shooed him back out to the arena. Noah disappeared off somewhere towards the stands.

Their meeting had been far too short.

[spoiler=vale reflects on round 2: "the fire" ]Vale had not expected the fight to go as smoothly as it did. But he was the rabbit now fighting for his life, running circles around the arena again, stopping, waiting for the perfect moment, frozen as if he could just disappear there and reappear at any moment he wanted.

If Jackson was still alive, he had to be ready for anything. Surely he wasn't actively hunting for him--there was no need anymore. He had the money and the notability he wanted. He couldn't be specifically after him now. But he should have expected this. He could be anywhere. Word of his "good deed" had spread pretty much everywhere by now, he fathomed, and that meant anyone would want to hire him. What if he was here right now, watching the tournament? The thought gripped Vale as tightly as his hands gripped the hilt of his killing edge, his knuckles whitened and his back and neck wet with nervous sweat. Vale would make him know better than to approach him, he'd show him right now, show him just how strong he'd gotten, show him so much that he wouldn't even dare take a step near--

He lost himself. It only took one well-placed blow, he was so frenzied. He didn't mean to hit Sheikah so hard. But that was over now.

He smelled the smoke again, and the flames burned hot and bright up from his throat to his head.

[spoiler=before round 3 (lonely thoughts) ]It was a few minutes before the third round. Noah hadn't appeared this time. Vale thought he should be disappointed, but really he only felt tired. He stared somewhere off to the side, taking deep breaths. Needed to restrain himself.

He was so, so tired. The rush was starting to wear off already. He was determined now, though: if by some chance he were to win the tournament, he'd have proof that he really was where he wanted to be. He would have something to call his own. He'd already bested his boss; he admitted he never fully observed everyone else's strength, but he felt truly confident at this point. After all, he hadn't taken a single hit yet, right?

He stood up.

The contestants were starting to wear thin, now. He observed some of the fights, but ducked out before he had to watch Mel cry--no, that was enough, and he didn't need anything spoiling his morale. He sighed. Though there was a qualm somewhere deep in his stomach, he noticed something consistent happening now every time his nerves started to tighten: he thought of Declan.

He couldn't much help it, either. He kept remembering when Declan propped him back up after he collapsed at the inn. He imagined his arms around his waist helping to keep him steady, his warm breath against his ear... he touched the side of his face and he started to feel better, somehow. He wanted so badly to talk to him again soon, just the two of them alone. He wanted the other man's arms around him again. He wanted it even more after Noah's visit. He carried the parcel in his belt, still unopened--he wanted to be alone when he opened it. Or with Declan, even, perhaps. Maybe when the tournament is over...

The call behind him. It was his turn again to fight now. He entered the arena again, his hopes high, though his mind swam somewhere away from himself.

[spoiler=round 3: RIP in piano, not 360 enough, etc.]

The crowd around him was so much louder now than before. The end of the tournament was nearing, and it seemed everyone saved their excitement for these last few suspenseful fights--yes, everything seemed so close to victory now. Vale watched his opponent approach him... Taima. One of his comrades this time, and one he wasn't as familiar with yet, no less. Her blue ponytail swayed from side to side as she galloped her way up to him. Shit... she's a confident fighter. I've never sparred with her before. The qualm in his stomach stirred up again.

"Hey, Vale," she said to him, stretching her arms a little. She already had her lance at the ready. "Are you ready to fight? You seem a little spaced out."

Vale rubbed his forehead. He was sweating already, again. He smoothed his hair back out of his eyes the best he could. "Yeah, I'm ready. Just tired, is all." He drew his killing edge, deciding he'd use it again for this battle--and already he felt the rush searing back up along his spine. He prepared his attack stance. "Ready when you are."

"I was ready a long time ago, silly!" Taima took up her stance as well, grinning. The two combatants stood for a moment only feet away from each other, glaring intently at the other, each waiting for some semblance of a first move to be made. Vale felt the incredible urge to lunge forward with no caution, but he kept hesitating, though his muscles were tense. Even the audience seemed to be silenced by the tension so heavy it felt as if the world's gravity intensified. Vale almost couldn't breathe, he felt so frozen and compressed. As if his body were starting to cave in from the inside. He vision started to double. Clocks everywhere ceased moving. The world itself stopped.

Finally Vale attempted a forward charge.

But Taima was expecting this. Immediately the tip of her spear made contact with Vale's blade, the chink noise ringing throughout the arena; it stunned him momentarily enough for her to land an opportunistic blow straight into his shoulder, though not his sword arm. Vale winced and leapt back, clutching it for a second--he didn't have much time to nurse his wound as Taima already lunged for him again, and he threw his body aside for a dodge, rolling over and picking himself back up again from the ground. This time he went for the opportunity and swung his curved blade straight towards the woman's hip, getting a fair blow but not quite what he was aiming for. Something inside of himself somewhere wasn't... activating, somehow or someway. But Taima already recovered from his hit and her spear hurtled towards him again; he deflected it this time, though barely. He leapt back again.

"You... don't let up. I can't believe we haven't really formally trained yet," Vale panted in between breaths.

"Of course I don't," Taima replied, smirking. "Watch yourself!"

Their weapons clashed again, and Vale really felt nervous this time. Taima slid herself to the side, her footwork quick and precise, and plunged her lance forward again, this time straight into the swordsman's abdomen; and for the first time since he could remember, he yelped in pain. He lurched back, clutching his side, blood seeping through his tunic under his belt. He made sure the parcel was safe on the other side before his last attempt at a comeback. I have to do this. There's no way I'm actually losing this. There's no way--

Vale's quickness did not beat Taima's persistence, but not before he blocked her lance again and this time went for a riposte, finally connecting his killing edge to her shoulder this time, and considerably denting her armor. He heard a very faint but pained gasp before Taima took advantage of Vale's final surge in confidence before he even had time to be proud. He left himself wide open.

All Vale felt for a few excruciating seconds was the bolt of pain straight through his torso, which shot through every limb of his body before he finally slumped over. His blade slid out of his hands onto the ground and the rush in him faded as thoughts of Noah and Declan (please tell me he's not watching this, oh gods, please) and Jackson and Mel melanged in his hazy mind before he finally passed out. Taima was the victor, this time.

Edited March 16, 2015 by Quote

[Shin]

[spoiler=That round one thing rite]
Orpheus' first opponent had been rather underwhelming, he'd barely landed a hit before being finished. "Keep trying, there's no shame in losing... as long as you live to tell the tale of course." Orpheus remarked, leaving his foe to tidy themselves up afterwards. He looked down to see his own hand shaking, his axe quivering in his hand. He knew too well who his next opponent was likely to be, if his intuition was anything, Wolfgang was likely to destroy his first opponent, and then take down Orpheus afterwards.

The odds aren't in my favour. He's been with that group for a while, he's going to be pretty potent. I'd normally try and cheat my way through, but that doesn't look like an option. Surprise tactics might be the only thing I have.

[charlie_]

[spoiler=wrecked (definition: having been wrecked)]
Having improved his technique with the instructor, Norman felt fairly confident in his chances in the tournament. His first opponent was strong, but Norman was quick enough to dodge most of his blows and land enough to take him down - even if it was slower then he would've liked. Maybe I should get a better axe or something. Still, he'd managed to win and that what mattered, right?

Sadly, the following match wasn't so successful. As soon as he saw he was against Sierra, he knew he was in trouble. Even knowing that he was disadvantaged by his weapon though, he would've at least have liked to have put up a good fight. He thought he was pretty fast, but Sierra had him completely outmatched, evading his attacks with ease and striking before he had a chance to evade. His training had helped him to take hits, sure, the captain wasn't a miracle weapon. After seemingly no time at all, Norman had been completely floored, failing to land even a single hit on Sierra.

As the crowd erupted into applause, Norman struggled to sit up, despite the roaring pain in his muscles. He wasn't so much disappointed that he lost (although winning would've been nice, obviously) but at just how how badly he'd done in the battle. Am I really this weak? he wondered, as his attempts to get up flopped, and he fell back onto his back as the tournament's healers did their work. Yeah, it seems that way. The truth was bitter.

[Ether]

"Uhn..." Celestia groaned, as she began to stir, Melanie hovering over her, staff in hand, screaming, quite literally, into her ear.

"Melanie... ugh... I... I'll be okay..." She managed, not really in any danger after the triage, but still in large amounts of pain. Seeing Lugos nearby with a worried expression, she flashed him the closest thing to a smile she could manage.

"It's alright, Lugos... ugh... you didn't mean for this, I'm sure."

[Nanami Touko]

[spoiler=Oh Thank God]"Uhn..."

"Huh?" Melanie stopped shaking. She tuned out Lugos entirely. If Celestia was alright, then she didn't have any reason to stay mad at him. And as she slowly woke up, a sense of relief so great washed over Mel, causing her frown to twist into a tiny smile, as her crying quieted to a whisper. "C...Celestia?" she choked out. She was still alive? She was going to be fine?

"Celestia!" Mel couldn't help but shout her name with joy, once again, pulling her into a tight hug, and burying her crying face into the woman's shoulder. Her staff clattered to the ground. She shook and sobbed, but she was smiling wider than ever. "I s-sought you were gone... I-I was so scared!" Her muffled worry came out, and she clung tighter. It seemed everything would be fine, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. Part of her worried that if she did, Celestia would go back to being unconscious on the ground, as silly as that sounded.

[Ether]

"Oof... ahh, ahh, Melanie, that hurts, that hurts!" Celestia weakly bemoaned as she was tightly hugged by Melanie, but didn't really have the energy to push the other woman off, regardless... hopefully she would listen...

"Y-you're gonna crush me, Melanie, please..."

[Nanami Touko]

"Ah, s-sorry, désolé." She loosened her hug, but still held Celestia there, trying to collect herself. "You are alright, oui? I-I... I do not 'ave to cry anymore?" Despite the smile that was now on her face, her eyes were incredibly red, and she was still shaking a bit. It was clear this had affected her more than t should have. But, she did her best to go back to that controlled demeanor she tended to carry, looking back at Lugos. "I am sorry for shouting at you, Lugos. Y-You did not do zis on purpose, donc, eet ees fine."

[Ether]

"Yeah, I'll be fine... still hurts like a bitch, though... think you could fix that, for me?" Celestia replied, managing a slight laugh.

[Nanami Touko]

[spoiler=Back to the stands, take that, round 3]Melanie beamed. "Oui, I can take care of zat." She reached over and picked up the fallen staff, channeling her energies to heal Celestia again, taking another moment to sigh a relief. After she'd done that, she slowly hoisted Celestia onto her shoulder, and started back for the stands. "Are you okay to walk like zis? I will not move fast."

[Oersted]

[spoiler=Finisher]

"Y-Yeah..." Lugos mumbled at the two women. He was unable to meet their gazes, his eyes still glued to his boots. "Sorry about this. Really." Melanie picked up Celestia and started back to the stands. Rather than go off on his own, something that was surely a bad descion, he hustled after Melanie and helped her support Celestia after assuring Kralle he was fine and shooing the wyvern back into the skies. "At least let me do this much."

[Xinnidy]

"But of course." Magali replied, more enthusiastic than she sounded. "Then allow me to borrow one right away." Skipping her step once, Magali made her way to where the instruments were held, picking a harp light enough to be carried on her arms. Giving it a try, she played out a simple melody, yet shook her head in disapproval. She put the harp back and picked up another of similar frame, if a bit taller. This time, Magali smiled softly after testing. "That's a better range."

"Well then, let's begin." Magali bowed slightly and slowly, as if to ascertain a tempo. She started with a slow melody, waiting for Mina to begin dancing. Magali slowly swayed with the rhythm she had created: a soft, quiet tune, never breaking its tempo, giving Mina's start a rather pure, holy feeling. Perks of her church choir time.

After Mina's start, Magali decided to pick up in volume, the harp's tune filling the room, but continuing to be ambient and setting a serene mood to the play, rather than overtaking it. Magali gravitated towards Mina as her dance gained force and impact. Though her arms were occupied, she still showed grace in each step, swaying her body along as she circled Mina, making the most use of her lower body not to fall upon jerky and stiff movements. The music, however, did shift slightly in tone, almost summoning melancholy. A suave yet bittersweet depart from serenity, a fall from grace. As the practice neared its end, the tempo receded, Slowly kneeling, with head hung low, Magali's music became quieter, but higher in pitch. Almost as if indulging hope that it would turn lighter in tone again, yet fading all the same as Mina finished her dance. Magali took a few moments to move and stand up again, respecting the end of a play.

"How did it feel, Mina? Are you feeling right for this kind of dance? Any suggestions will be taken seriously." Magali honestly asked, no soft hum following, yet her face showed she was rather happy with it. "Your dance fit very well, I look forward to the actual play~."

[eclipse]

[spoiler=Round 1]I paid for that training, so I might as well make use of it. He didn't notice any difference when he took a few practice swings with his axe. Perhaps the lessons he received yesterday would help once he was in a "real" situation.

His first opponent looked more nervous than Peter felt. All these people, watching. . . The woodsman took a deep breath and stopped a stray bead of sweat from trickling past his eyebrows. His opponent tried to close the gap as soon as the match started, but he stumbled, and his strike went wide. This gave Peter more than enough time to walk up and subdue him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was declared the winner - this tournament business wasn't so bad after all!

[Shin]

[spoiler=Round 2... yeah]

The second round was a bit of a blur to Orpheus, things had happened very quickly. He recalled facing Wolfgang and feeling rather uneasy. He knew he wasn't going to be killed, hopefully, but the idea of being hexed to unconsciousness wasn't exactly his cup of tea.

"I don't think I can talk my way out of this one, but nothing always happens the way you expect." he muttered to himself, clutching his new axe. Before he knew it, the battle had begun and a dark blast had already enveloped his figure. It was a pain like no other, somewhere between burning and being crushed. This was his opening, he needed to strike properly to have a chance. He swung twice wildly, only for a single hit to land. The last thing he could recall was seeing Wolfgang move his arms... the rest wasn't quite so clear.

He'd come to a little while late, just in time to catch the next couple of matches. There was one man who intrigued him though. It was a strange man with indigo hair, there was something about him. He didn't win, but there was something about the way he moved his sword. It was like watching him dance, his weapons were an extension of his body with such natural movements. He needed to see it for himself, something he could hopefully do after the tournament.

Orpheus didn't really take his defeat too badly, it would have been unreasonable to expect to win against people with proper training. Still, it had given him some sense of proportion, he'd need to step his game up if he wanted to keep pace. It had taken him a while, but his search for the swordsman had proved fruitful. It was no surprise that he needed his time to recover against Taima, her armour had looked terribly tough. Walking up to his target, Orpheus extended his hand.

"I saw you fight in the tournament, you did pretty well. I'm guessing you're with the mercenary group. I'm Orpheus, I just joined recently." Orpheus began, hoping not to startle the man. "You must have some sort special secret technique, right? I mean, I just swing my axe like a madman and hope it hits something, but you're something else."

Edited March 18, 2015 by Shin

[Percivalé]

Vale sat up at the edge of one of the makeshift beds they set up for the unconscious fighters. The servants offered him a change of clothes; staves could save lives, but they couldn't get bloodstains out of one's laundry. The parcel lie next to him, unscathed and still neatly wrapped. His shoulder still ached and he groaned as he managed to lean himself up against the wall. He hadn't seen this guy yet--he wasn't aware the Hollows had recruited someone new. Then the guy introduced himself. Yes, that was quite the convenient thought to have. Way to go.

"Pretty well... not well enough," he muttered, looking down. He hadn't expected to feel this bitter over his loss, but he couldn't stop thinking about Noah now. He rubbed the top of his head with one hand, settling his disheveled hair from the top down. He took Orpheus's hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Vale. Vale Diascia." He hadn't said his last name in a while, but something prompted him to this time. It felt refreshing hearing his voice cradle it out into the open again. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your matches... sorry." He paused. Secret... technique? "You mean, my fighting style? It's something that was passed down my family line... I don't know when it started. But I've been trying to add onto it. Embellish it. Make it my own." His grin came back.

[Shin]

Orpheus froze for a moment. A family technique? Those kinds never part with the whole she-bang. It was like a bird defending its nest. Even if you took the eggs, the bird would never leave you alone. Still, imitation was the best form of flattery, it wasn't like he couldn't pick up a pointer or two. He seemed like a reasonable enough fellow, and it certainly would be better to have friends within the group.

"There wasn't much to see, both ended fairly quickly." Orpheus replied, recalling his swift defeat. "My first time fighting one on one, so I'm not too miffed. Considering I got that far with virtually no training, I'm rather pleased."

[Percivalé]

"First time, huh? You... don't look it at all," Vale replied. This guy was different, that's for sure. He grunted against the wall again; his arm still throbbed painfully as he tried to move it. "What brought you here, then?" No training, huh... like, none at all? Or is he a militia fighter from somewhere?

His mind went back to the parcel on the bed.

[Shin]

"First time I ever did any fighting couldn't have been more than about two years ago. Told me to pick up the pointiest thing I could find and hit someone over the head with it." he replied, noticing Vale's pondering. "They'd have probably left me to die on the front line if I didn't ride a horse."

He would have been in a similar situation to a lot of other recruits without his horse, most of the rookie footmen he'd worked with never came back from their first battle. At least as a member of cavalry he had a means of getting away.

"No specific reason really, you guys seemed pretty interesting so I figured I'd give it a shot."

[MRDRHAWK]

Declan still ached everywhere. His muscles still needed a bit of time to mesh together properly - the healing could only do so much for him after all he was through that day, it seemed - but he needed to do something, or else he was gonna get bored. And it totally had nothing to do with looking for Vale. Nope.

Declan needed to kick himself in the ass later.

As luck would have it, he did find Vale... already in conversation with someone else. Declan was... mixed about that. On the one hand, Vale was feeling comfortable enough around the group to talk with other members... wait, was that guy even in the group? It wouldn't have surprised him; they seemed to be recruiting a lot of people lately.

But on the other hand, this guy was keeping Declan from his Vale, as much as they weren't together, and he normally wasn't so... possessive in thought. Maybe he was scared after the issue with Arietta? Add in the matter with Eduardo, and...

Well, Declan shook the possessive thoughts from his head anyway. Vale was much too much of a free spirit to tie himself down to anyone anyway; at least, that's what Declan thought as he strode up to the pair. "Hey Vale... God, I hurt like hell everywhere. Even with the healing, I guess I'm still sore from everything that I've been doing lately. How're you holding up?" Declan asked, not even bothering to address the third person in the conversation.

[Percivalé]

Vale found himself able to stand a little more upright. He still cradled his arm which continued to ache, but he didn't feel quite as awful anymore all around--the color in his face was back, and the spark in his eyes seemed a bit more lively now.

"That... doesn't sound like the most favorable situation," Vale responded; he couldn't help but imagine it. "Glad you made it here now. I don't think someone like you will have trouble catching up to us, really." He was about to continue that thought when he noticed someone approaching from behind them. He glanced away from Orpheus to see who it was--suddenly something inside of him relaxed, and he finally pushed himself from the wall.

"Declan," he said; the name plummeted headfirst out of him much like the way Noah's did. "I'm--holding up all right. My shoulder's still giving me trouble." It was bad enough the new recruit already saw his utter defeat... he silently prayed, again, that Declan hadn't witnessed it too. "But I can stand now, finally. I was just talking to the new guy here. Have you met him yet? And, uh, did you," He paused, "want to do anything after this?" Soon... hopefully soon.

[Shin]

Orpheus took a quick glance at the other guy, most likely a friend of Vale. He hadn't met him before, but Orpheus could just about recognise him from the tournament. It seemed a lot of the mercenary group had entered, he'd have been surprised if half of the participants weren't with them. At least he was with a good bunch, it would have been a shame if they started dropping dead left and right.

"I don't think we have, I'm Orpheus. I joined your group pretty recently." Orpheus said firmly, wasting no time to introduce himself. "I got through to the second round, lady luck wasn't with me against Wolfgang, so that was rather interesting."

[Nanami Touko]

"'Allo, Vale!" came a certain accented voice through to the conversation going on. Mel had finished her talk with Lugos, and gotten Celestia awake enough to walk, so Mel had decided that the three of them should join everyone else. And after bounding into the room, she latched onto Vale's right arm with a giggle, smiling up at him. "I saw your match! You were fantastique! I can not believe zat you did so well against Taima!" She let him go rather quickly, holding her hands behind her back, and smiling around the room until-- "Oh... 'E-Ello, Declan," she said, almost shrinking on the spot. And then getting awkwardly quiet. She wanted to say more but, was he going to get upset at her again? He'd gotten weirdly quiet the last time she'd even tried talking to him, so... "Oh! 'Allo!" she said to the new person, perking up a bit. "I do not sink I know you! Je m'appelle Melanie! Et tu?" There's a good way to get over that awkward.

Edited March 21, 2015 by I have opinions

[Ether]

Everything was still a bit of a blur for Celestia, as she had been awoken from her rest and dragged along for the ride, soon coming across a few others from their merry band. Of course, Celestia herself was in a far from joyous mood, still in a lot of residual pain, and constantly assailed by the lingering scent of burning cloth that remained on her... she had at least managed to keep the occasional jolts riddling her body on the down-low, only jumping slightly as they coursed through her... of course, they were also a big part of what was keeping her awake, so at least there was that... but a lengthy conversation was the absolute last thing she wanted at present.

"Oh, hey. I... wish I could say the same, but I didn't get to see your match, Vale." The templar added, unfortunately not trusting herself to get back to her room alone... seems she'd just have to put up with it for now. Melanie had already addressed the new fellow, so she could wait for that response before adding anything.

[Shin]

Before Declan even responded, another pair had entered - and Orpheus liked what he saw. The first was rather small, but also fetching, it was nice to see that the group wasn't entirely burly war veterans. Her accent was a little unusual, but he'd met all sorts in his travels, so it wasn't really an issue. Although it seemed like he'd have to introduce him a few more times.

"I'm Orpheus." he replied, making sure to remember Melanie's name. "I assume you're part of Vale's group? I joined pretty recently, not long before the tournament. Were you in it? I'm afraid I didn't see any of your matches if you were."

[Tryhard]

[spoiler=Round 1]Ivan be knowing that most the group had signing up the tournament, and he be wonder if they being hearing of Ivan's winnings from the arenas before. Ivan keeping great gem of red swirlish in pocket, knowing it being giving victory every time as it guardian Ivan.

Ivan not know first man, but he seeming to magic man, Ivan not be liking, being having enough magics for life. Ivan bringing swift justice to he, and quickly gave first strike, before he be bringing blind light to Ivan who tried to shielding but feeling full force.

Anger, Ivan lashed out and poked with weapon that catching the man in his chest, after a worry backstep and attempt to attack Ivan predicted, one more charging making the man stop, and Ivan win first time. As no doubt.

Edited March 22, 2015 by Tryhard