Pretentious Git
Round 32: Player Phase
- Astra moves to Q30 and heals Amystra (Physic Staff 1/5).
- Astra restores 27 hit points to Amystra (31/31).
- Grendan moves to V26 and prepares an attack (Tomahawk).
- Railen defends.
- Xel moves to V28 and defends.
- Vera prepares an attack (Killer Bow).
- Bette prepares an attack (Nosferatu Tome).
- Amystra prepares an attack (Geddon Tome).
- Cassandra moves to X26 and prepares an attack (Spear).
- Azadokht moves to V29 and performs a Dance of Toughness!
- Amystra, Osroes, Railen, Scherwiz, Sophia, and Xel gain +5 Damage Reduction.
- Azadokht continues to U31.
- Osroes moves to W31 and prepares an attack (Greatbow).
- Addelus moves to V29 uses a Vulnerary (0/3) on Xel.
- Addelus restores 10 hit points to Xel (38/39).
- Addelus moves to W26 and heals Bette (Mend Staff 4/8).
- Addelus restores 27 hit points to Bette (38/38).
- Malia moves to W30 and performs a Dance of Stamina for Diane!
- Diane gains an extra turn.
- Diane moves to W29 and heals Railen (Mend Staff 2/8).
- Diane restores 27 hit points to Railen (33/34).
- Diane heals Addelus (Mend Staff 1/8).
- Diane restores 27 hit points to Addelus (29/33).
- Greham moves to V29 and defends.
- Scherwiz defends.
- Tigra defends.
Round 32: Enemy Phase
Leoran's shoulders shuddered and his breath echoed in ragged gasps as he raised his arms once again to conjure his shades. Beneath him, a pool of ebon ichor spread from the hem of his robes as the wounds inflicted by the feedback of his dark magic sapped his life force.
"A god does not explain himself to insects!" he roared, the volume provided far more by the magic now than by the power of his own shredded lungs. "With the power of the Emblem, I have shed the paltry limitations of loathsome mortality. I will live forever, guiding the world in my perfect wisdom, as always should have been my right!
- Leoran summons Simulacrum 1 to U27.
- Leoran summons Simulacrum 2 to X30.
- Leoran summons Simulacrum 3 to V31.
Round 32: Ally Phase
- Kiri moves to V24 and defends.
- Sophia moves to V23 and heals Kiri (Heal Staff 0/10).
- Sophia restores 31 hit points to Kiri (37/37).
Round 33 Deadline: 8:00pm PST, 8/16.
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Clueless Slacker
Grendan rolled his eyes. "Ooookay, I guess he's been driven mad with power. Assuming he was sane to begin with, I mean."
Grendan: Prepare attack with Tomahawk for vulnerable targets.
Astra: Dash to Q26.
I did not expect to have cause to use the line "STOP DROPPING YOUR ASSES!" but DQ 11 gave it to me.
“Power that none should have,” Osroes agrees. He sets his bow at his side and takes the lance of his people in both hands, levelling it as Rsama beats his wings and swoops down to deliver the momentum of their strike.
Azadokht draws back her axe, Light flooding the weapon once more. “And by our will, his time to have it ends now!”
Osroes moves to X31 and prepares an attack with his Kontos against Simulacrum 2, to trigger as soon as its Invulnerability fades.
Azadokht moves to W35 and prepares an attack with the Purge Tome against Simulacrum 3 (labelled Simulacrum 2), to trigger as soon as its Invulnerability fades.
Edited by Existential_Tempest on Aug 16th 2021 at 4:48:51 PM
2 Spooky 4 U
Xel moves one to left and defends as bonus action. Both him and Railen prepare an attack against Simulacrum 1 for when his buff runs out.
Vera prepares attack with killer bow, first vulnerable enemy in range.
Bette prepares an attack with Nosferatu, first vulnerable enemy in range.
The Flamebringer
Cassandra to X24.
Amy prepares an attack for when the invuln drops.
All are significantly abnormal in a normal world... All are significantly normal in an abnormal world.
Pretentious Git
Round 33: Player Phase
- Grendan prepares an attack (Tomahawk).
- Astra dashes to Q26.
- Osroes moves to X31 and prepares an attack for Simulacrum 2 (Kontos).
- Azadokht moves to W35 and prepares an attack for Simulacrum 3 (Purge Tome).
- Xel moves to U28 and defends.
- Xel prepares an attack for Simulacrum 1 (Mocking Barb).
- Railen prepares an attack for Simulacrum 1 (Ambush).
- Vera prepares an attack (Killer Bow).
- Bette prepares an attack (Nosferatu Tome).
- Cassandra moves to X24.
- Amystra prepares an attack (Geddon Tome).
- Addelus moves to V28 and performs a Rally of Resilience!
- Amystra, Diane, Greham, Grendan, Malia, Railen, Scherwiz, Tigra, Vera, and Xel gain +5 Resistance.
- Greham moves to V32 and prepares an attack (Brave Sword).
- Diane defends.
- Greham moves to V32 and defends.
- Malia moves to V29 and performs a Dance of Toughness!
- Addelus, Amystra, Railen, Scherwiz, and Xel gain +5 Damage Reduction.
- Scherwiz defends.
- Tigra defends.
Round 33: Enemy Phase
Blazing light sprang from the first simulacrum's hand like the ray of a wrathful sun god, blazing a trail of radiant fire across the floor as it turned from one target to another. Vera took the initial blast square in the chest, and was thrown from the saddle. The divine laser swept across the room, scorching a path through the once-lavish rugs, and across one combatant after another. Only Railen managed to vault over the beam, letting it bisect the banquet table he had been fighting atop of instead.
No sooner had the simulacrum's spell ended by searing its way up Amystra's leg, though, than Xel's jaws found the wraith. With a vengeful roar, the mighty dragon laguz's bite tore the abomination to shreds of shadow, ripping another bit of Leoran's life force away with each twist of his neck.
"No, NO!" the mad king shrieked, grasping impotently at the motes of crimson light being dragged from his body. "It cannot end this way! I will not be brought low by a simple beast!"
With one final wrenching pull, his fangs closed on nothing but the feeling of something alive held between them, Xel tore out the last of Leoran's vitality. With a trembling jaw and no more words of disbelief to utter, the King of Calderia, Archmage of Tropera, watched the phantom of his withered heart drift from his chest. It hung in the air before his eyes for a moment, then vanished like the last breath of a cigarette as the light left them.
His body fell lazily, like a crumpled paper bag, as if all its substance had been burned out by the incredible magic he had tried to wield. The only sound as it hit the floor was a tink as the Fire Emblem's crown slipped from his head and went rolling away, disintegrating into ash as it went. By the time it came to a stop, only a dull, lusterless ruby lay in a pile of black grit, and then it, too, cracked like a cheap glass copy.
It was over.
- Leoran attacks Tigra (Archstaff)!
- Leoran's attack deals 27 damage to Tigra (13/40).
- Simulacrum 1's invulnerability ends.
- Simulacrum 1 attacks Vera!
- Simulacrum 1's attack deals 29 damage to Vera (0/35).
- Vera is critically wounded (0/2)!
- Simulacrum 1's attack deals 21 damage to Grendan (18/40).
- Simulacrum 1's attack misses Railen.
- Simulacrum 1's attack deals 24 damage to Addelus (5/33).
- Addelus' Toughness bonus is consumed.
- Simulacrum 1's attack deals 25 damage to Malia (2/27).
- Simulacrum 1's attack deals 21 damage to Amystra (10/31).
- Amystra's Toughness bonus is consumed.
- Xel's prepared attack deals 14 damage to Simulacrum 1 (-10/4).
- Simulacrum 1 is banished!
- Leoran takes 5 damage from Simulacrum 1's Essence Link (-1/74).
- Leoran dies!
Battle Complete!
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Clueless Slacker
As Astra set about using the last of their staff's power to awaken Vera, Grendan slumped in his saddle out of sheer exhaustion; with the adrenaline of battle ebbing, he could now feel the fatigue that came with fighting an entire war almost single-handedly. "Finally. Feels like we've been fighting for years."
I did not expect to have cause to use the line "STOP DROPPING YOUR ASSES!" but DQ 11 gave it to me.
Rsama’s wingbeat blasts away the remnants of the simulacrum in front of him, the construct falling to ribbons and wisps of tarjadugih before the spearhead lands. Osroes’ eyes trace the room, searching, evaluating – and he pulls off his helmet, sweat beading on his brow and a relieved, tired smile across his face, his mind not quite finding anything to latch onto yet besides giving a nod of affirmation to Grendan. Instead, he lets out a soft laugh, letting his lance fall into one hand and stroking his companion’s mane with the other. After a moment, he raises it again in a wave. “Xel – well struck! Ha! Ah…”
“Mind?” Azadokht sweeps past, sparing a kind glance up as she takes the elixir from Osroes’ side. She rushes forward in all her energy to offer it to Addelus and Tessa, dead on their feet as they are, before looking about for others who might need it.
And so, as Osroes dismounts and approaches with Rsama following behind, both of their gazes fall upon the cracked Emblem. Azadokht straightens slightly. “One bit of it probably won’t do much on its own; still…”
“None should have that power,” Osroes repeats. He considers, laying out the framework of a plan in his mind, then kneels down and tears a chunk from Leoran’s robes. He reaches forward, carefully taking the gem and wrapping it, then tying off the corners to form a small pouch.
Osroes sets it down against the hard stone floor, then looks to Azadokht. “Might you, ah, do the honours?”
The Radiant stares down, then reaches for her axe and lets Light flicker down the haft. Azadokht brings up the weapon, readying a strike with the flat – and pauses. Lowering the axe again, she turns to Bette with a smile. “You know, I think this one might need a bit more punch than I can manage.” She gestures. “If you want, obviously.”
Edited by Existential_Tempest on Aug 20th 2021 at 3:47:40 PM
Pretentious Git
"It's been just a little more than one, but it feels like five," Malia agreed as she went around redistributing the Company's remaining medicinal stores to the injured.
Scherwiz interjected themself between Azadokht and Bette. "I reckon the walls o' this place 'ave had enough o' things exploding fer one day, lassie," they said, scooping up the bundled stone before anyone could try blasting the artifact with more magic. "Whatsay ye do it outside in case this does, too?"
"We should attend the Emperor," Greham said to Diane. "We have a lot of explaining to do."
"And promises to keep," the spy responded, casting her gaze over the victorious Company as the two Vissans headed for the throne room.
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Azadokht bobs her head back and forth a touch. “Ah – yes, that sounds fair. Good point well made. Yep.” She laughs. “Good catch, Scherwiz. Might have got a little caught up in the moment.”
Osroes smiles, inclining his head. “That would be a fair assessment. Perhaps you might hold onto it, too – should we manage to obliterate it… Well, I am still unsure whether to favour releasing the resulting debris into a sandstorm or the ocean.”
He glances towards the interior of the castle, then sighs, gripping his lance. He looks to Rsama, considering whether to ride atop him into the throne room. It would certainly be a statement…
Azadokht walks up alongside him, then grasps his armoured hand. But we do not need it, he thinks.
“That can wait,” he concludes. “Let us go.”
Edited by Existential_Tempest on Aug 23rd 2021 at 11:45:56 AM
Pretentious Git
The remaining Imperial guards were bustling throughout the main hall, shouting frantically to one another as they hurried to come up with status updates on everything from the severity of the building's structural damage, to what was happening with the battle still waging on the highway to the south, to how many bottles of wine were still intact in the kitchen. All of it bore a marked contrast to the leisurely pace with which the Company passed them on their way back to the throne room, their duty well and fully accomplished already.
The Emperor was waiting on her throne when they arrived, the slight slump of her spine against the back betraying the exhaustion behind her otherwise stoic facade. She looked up as the Company entered, and waved for the handful of guards who remained remained perpetually present to let them approach. At the head of the group, Diane and Greham stopped at the foot of the throne dais and knelt.
"Waste not my time with formalities," Richtavia said, clacking the butt of her scepter against the granite floor. Her eyes rose over the two Vissans' heads to sweep across those gathered behind them. "Clearly you are not my soldiers, nor do I suspect most of you are my subjects. Who do I have to thank for my Empire's rescue, and why?"
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Pretentious Git
It was Addelus who stepped forward first, carrying himself across the rubble-strewn carpet with a confidence beyond his meager 13 years. "I am Addelus, crown prince of Frael," he said, before Diane could stop him.
Richtavia straightened in her chair and narrowed her eyes, taking gauge of the young man anew. "You had my curiosity, but now you have my full attention. Pray, Prince, why does one of the Empire's most wanted individuals - after a year of evading my agents and armies - stroll into my palace and risk their life to defend mine?"
"In hopes of a fresh start, your majesty."
Richtavia sighed and nodded. "Of course, you desire pardons for your crimes against the Empire," she said, her disappointment at the banality of the request seeping into her voice. "They are granted, to you and your followers." She waved a hand, as if dismissing both the list of charges, and the Company themselves at the same time.
"Thank you, your majesty, but that is not actually what I was getting at." Addelus steeled himself with a deep breath as the Emperor narrowed her eyes again. "I desire a fresh start to the relationship between Frael and Vissan. I wish for our realms to be bound in friendship, not supplication."
Richtavia rose to her feet like the first plume of smoke from a volcano. "You would have me restore your father to the throne after my Empire has emptied its own coffers to rebuild what he ran into the ground in the first place?"
"No!" Addelus said, surprising both the Emperor and himself with the edge in his voice. "No," he repeated, softer; "let my father remain disgraced. He deserves no less. But you would have neither coffers nor Frael if not for our intervention, so I think you can hardly count it as a loss."
"You, then?" Richtavia tilted her head with a wan smile. "I admit you've done quite well for yourself in the last year, but you can't seriously expect me to place the crown of a recovering kingdom on a child."
"I would fain reclaim my crown one day. But no." Addelus gestured into the midst of the Company with one hand. "I expect you to place it on her," he said, and the assembled warriors parted to clear a path from the prince to Tigra, who stood stupefied, uncertain she had just heard right. Addelus continued. "It is my understanding that Lady Tigra was already poised to become Frael's new governor under Imperial rule. The people of Frael do not object to her leadership, and neither do I." He turned back to Richtavia, planting his hands on his hips. "I would have you name Tigra Alvalena Queen Regent of Frael, until I come of age."
Richtavia lowered herself slowly back into her seat. For a time, she said nothing; only sat and stroked her chin in contemplation while the other occupants all around the throne rooms looked from one to another, dangerously aware of the precipitous situation at hand.
Then, the Emperor started to laugh.
Not loudly. Just a soft chuckle that bounced around the hushed hall like a lost dove. "Very well," she said. "The Empire will require some return on our investment, but the details of such can be determined later. Let it be as you say, young highness. Queen Regent Tigra shall rule in Frael with our support until your twentieth birthday. Then the throne, and the kingdom, shall be yours."
"Thank you, your majesty," Addelus said, bowing deep. "This day marks the end of a dark time for much of Tropera. Let it also mark the dawn of a long and true friendship between us."
The Emperor nodded. "May it be so."
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Clueless Slacker
Grendan hesitated before saying, "If I may add one more detail as to our motivations? I believe many of us would have sided with Vissan from the beginning, had your enemies not hidden their crimes, both past and planned, from us for so long." As an afterthought he added, "Of course, it didn't help that we repeatedly encountered the... dregs of the Vissan military, so to speak."
I did not expect to have cause to use the line "STOP DROPPING YOUR ASSES!" but DQ 11 gave it to me.
Osroes stills at Grendan’s words, fighting to keep his expression neutral even as his mind rages. That hardly changes the Aggressions! There is no…
Beside him, he feels a squeeze on his hand. This time, the stillness is from a great, washing calm. ‘Your passion clouds your judgement’… This is still an opportunity greater than almost any receive. He looks to Addelus, recalling from moments before the shock and the pride in… Could he call him a friend? He hopes so; regardless, the Fraelian prince’s words and actions spark a hope and a determination in him. You can do no less for your people. Too much passion clouds judgement… A little focusses it.
Let it guide me.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Osroes begins, “we are all aware that battle still rages away from the citadel itself, and that we will only have a full account after it is ended. Indeed,” he glances to the others, “we ought tarry only long enough to recover our strength here, so we can help to end it. But from what we have seen…” He frowns, his conversation with the soldier at the bridge only a short time ago flashing through his mind. “To speak plainly, the forces garrisoned here and at the fortress guarding the teleportation network have been cut to shreds. No doubt, the portion of the Calderian army that survives this fight will scatter throughout the surrounding lands, too – the peoples who make them home will need protecting.”
“Sir Salvir –” Osroes lets a curious smile come across his face; he turns to Grendan, slightly quieter and amused. “Or would that be Commander Salvir, now? Your immediate superior just became regent of Frael… Regardless, Sir Salvir has the right of it, Your Imperial Majesty. Two of the strongest standing forces in Old Vissan have been substantially weakened when they are most needed and drawing from your provinces’ armies to reinforce them swiftly would, based on our experiences, demand that their existing units be dissolved and their soldiers be integrated into the units of the depleted heartland garrisons and retrained, for discipline’s sake…”
He pauses. And if that logic may be applied to cultural diffusion… I must think on this. “Apologies, Your Imperial Majesty,” Osroes says. Later. “To the point. You will be aware of the repercussions of today’s events for Calderia and the potential for their new political situation to cascade into chaos; while I will not pretend to know your mind, I do know a little of politics, and that a civil war quite so close to crucial trade routes and territory would be a concern for Vissan, particularly at a time like this. To that end, while it would be foolish to ask Your Imperial Majesty the necessary task of gathering and organising the forces necessary to safeguard your people or to help in rebuilding what has been destroyed, I would humbly request that you consider sending a delegation to Calderia to offer the security and assistance that their nobles may require so that they might meet and discuss governance, rather than divide into factions and begin conscripting the citizenry.” He glances around. “I myself would be glad to join such an expedition; though many of us will look to depart for Frael, perhaps some of my comrades may feel similarly. Helping to safeguard the Calderian people after Leoran’s predations seems a worthy task, if it is an honour you would be willing to confer.”
“If nothing else, Your Majesty,” Azadokht adds, her smile turning a touch more impish, “given the fuss that Leoran was making about you being his ‘old nemesis’ and all? Strikes me that the worst thing you could do to him right now is either ignore or directly spite all of that ego. Fixing the internal politics of a country that he’d probably mostly forgotten about to focus on his scheming sounds like a pretty good option for doing that.”
She offers another squeeze of the hand; he returns it, before speaking one more time. “Your Imperial Majesty, I have just witnessed you and His Highness create something important, and my hope and belief that is that it will do much for the people of Frael. Though I do not know who in Calderia might be capable and worthy of leading as he and the Queen Regent are, I would hope that its people might come to share in the same, free from Leoran’s shackles and able to guide their own destinies.”
She will refuse. Or feign this whole thing to put them in a state of bondage. Or wait for them to grow weak and sweep in to –
The same, calm voice speaks in the back of his mind. Let there be the chance.
Osroes raises his head. “If you would lend your power to creating it, Your Imperial Majesty, I believe that is a world that I could hope to live in.”
Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 9th 2021 at 5:00:51 PM
Pretentious Git
Richtavia fixed the Parni couple with a dispassionate gaze. "You propose, what, that I march into the midst of a kingdom with which my empire has been at war since before I sat on her throne, and declare myself arbiter of their succession? I might as well order my grand marshals to draw plans of conquest now, as I would have to accomplish as much in the first place before the Calderians would have any respect for my authority."
She reclined in her seat, letting her elbow rest on the arm and her cheek against her curled knuckles. "Their great houses will settle the matter themselves, whither my actions. If they choose to war amongst themselves like bawling infants, then let them. My responsibility is to the people of my empire. I will not send them to fight and die for the squabbles of our enemies.
"Now, I have had a most taxing evening, and I do not intend to spend any more of it debating matters that belong solely to the Imperial Court to decide. I am already receiving reports that the remaining Calderian forces have broken with their king slain and reinforcements cut off. You have my gratitude for what you have done here this day, but my armies will see to the rest.
"With that, I bid you good night. My attendants will find you quarters in the palace if you desire, or you may bivouac in the field, as you prefer." The Emperor made no move to leave her throne, but the motion of palace staff urging the Company toward the main hall suggested that their audience was coming to a close.
What matters in this life is much more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. - F. Rogers.
Pretentious Git
Eight Years Later
The morning sun was already climbing toward its zenith by the time the inhabitants and guests of Castle Frael began to come to life, many already regretting their over-indulgence in last night's festivities. They could hardly be blamed, though. It wasn't every day that one got to celebrate the coronation of their kingdom's once-deposed rightful heir, and the new king could certainly be forgiven for sleeping in on his first day.
Still, Tigra was not the least bit surprised to find that King Addelus had beaten all of his advisors to the counsel chamber. She chuckled to herself as her attendant closed the door behind her, her own hands full with tall mugs of coffee. The young king looked up as she set one down beside the book he had been scribbling in and took her seat in the sturdy oaken chair at his right hand.
"Good morning, your Highness. I see you've had my chair moved for me," she chided, smiling as she patted her armrest. For the past eight years this chair had stood at the head of the table, where Addelus now sat in his bright new maple throne.
The King smiled slyly back. "Would you prefer to exchange places again, your Highness?"
"No," the former queen regent laughed. "'Sir' suits me much better." She took a sip from her own mug, taking a moment to relish the sweet bitterness as it brought her full faculties to life, and looked down at what the king had been working on. A stack of intelligence summaries was spread over the table, a map of Tropera peeking through the gaps from beneath. Skimming a few, she recognized that they were all reports she had already read over the last couple of weeks.
Addelus noticed her gaze. "Just trying to get up to speed on full the situation around the continent," he said.
Tigra nodded, and restacked the papers, revealing the map beneath. "I'm sure we'll get into detail once the others arrive, but I can give you the short version while we wait. Let's start here." She placed a finger on the narrow choke of land that joined northern and southern Tropera as one continent.
"Murgavio's just landed in a bit of hot water. It seems a certain someone let it slip that two members of the Prosper Council were involved in the Port Gusfer scandal during the War. Vissan is expected to announce new tariffs targeting the Council members' businesses, and the pressure on the responsible members to resign is turning into a blackmail race between them all.
"Chamur remains largely stable since the new tribal parliament's formation, though they and the Duke are still testing where each other's authority ends. At the very least, tensions between the Sowtie and Chamurian populations have softened greatly since then.
"Kambacha, oddly enough, is showing some significant change. There are rumors of green land appearing in the western sands, and high numbers of laguz refugees out of Durvalla headed that direction. This seems to have spurred some violent incidents with some of the tribes around the desert's edge. Apparently there's some prevalent superstition about dragons in the region, and an even more outrageous belief that the refugees are allied to them.
"Reginbor remains politically stable since Queen Sigalfa solidified her control, but the eldritch discoveries coming out of all the mages studying the late Fulric's estate and... what was underneath... are becoming quite troubling. There is fear that if the means of summoning such a monster are understood by more competent individuals, that it could lead to much worse than a failed coup in the future.
"Ephlund... well, I hardly need to tell you how King Gothrie is doing, do I?" Tigra teased, and stifled a laugh as Addelus sputtered on his coffee. "Our favorite marquess is undoubtedly thrilled by the herd of pegasi he sent you as a coronation gift.
"Vissan seems to be winding operations down in Durvalla. The latest uprising has subsided since its leaders were captured, but no one thinks for a moment that it's the last. There seems to be no end to fanatics ready to whip the population up in the name of their 'tradition' of slaughtering laguz, and the forest makes it impossible for the Empire's regular military to fully root them out.
"Which brings us to Calderia." Tigra paused as her finger traced across the paper to the northeastern block of the map, the corners of her lips tugged tight. "The fighting amongst the great houses has died down in the last couple years, but rumor has it that several of the rival factions are seeking Imperial support, which could reignite the entire conflict if it is given to any of them."
Addelus ran a hand through his hair and slumped backward in his chair. "So much suffering that could have been avoided had Leoran just delineated a clear successor." He turned to the window as the sun's ascension cast its beam across his eyes. He sighed, savoring the contrast of the warmth on his face with the coldness of the late King of Calderia. "Maybe that the thing, though," he mused, rising to approach the window. "Leoran could see no future for anyone beyond his own death. So he never thought to build anything that would last beyond him."
The city that sprawled around the castle was already fully awake, its streets bustling with the chaotic goings on of ordinary lives, the voices of its people blending together as they rose. By the time they reached the King's ears, they were a distinctly indistinct blur of sound, all meaning of the individual voices subsumed into a single announcement that it lived.
Addelus closed his eyes, and bathed in the sound and the light, his hair fluttering in the breeze like the petals of a spring dandelion. "I will be a king who builds for the future," he said; an oath that floated on the cacophony of voices from below like a bud on a river.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Tigra smiling down on him. "That is a king that I can be proud to serve."
Addelus smiled and clapped his hands. "Let's get started."
Azadokht moves to V29, performs a Dance of Toughness, then continues to U31.
Osroes moves to W31 and prepares an attack with the Greatbow against Simulacra that are not Invulnerable.