Haeo

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

Trace Retloth

https://pin.it/lui4u4jxvdbb4e
Name: Trace Retloth
Age: 23
Gender: Male

Personality: Generally taciturn and shy, he prefers to simply let unnecessary conversations pass by him like the breeze. Patient and intense, he takes the words of others very seriously and holds hypocrites and liars in utter contempt. Ironically, while he takes words very seriously from others, he prefers to express his own feelings with actions and has achieved some small recognition for his lack of fear and hesitation.

Backstory:
Born the illegitimate son of a lesser Empire noble and a high class courtesan in the capital, he had a fairly comfortable childhood and even received some minor magical instruction. But, a rivalry between courtesans resulted in his mother's face being disfigured. She suffered a meteoric fall from grace and her son fell with her. His limited magical ability was barely enough to frighten a neighborhood bully but it allowed him to provide some little protection for his mother from the numerous small cruelties of their harsh new life.

But, this only lasted for a few short years. When he was 12, bandits raided the slum where Trace lived with his mother. He was out looking for work and only returned in time to see their shack collapse, one of many that were engulfed in flames. Soldiers had killed the bandits and were fighting the fire but their best efforts were barely enough to keep the flames from spreading to more wealthy parts of the city. The survivors were forcibly evacuated and the victims were buried in mass graves, too badly burned to be identified.

Trace never found his mother's body.

Trace felt that he had been running from the truth. He had failed to grasp the kind of power he would have needed to save his mother.
But, instead of wallowing in guilt, he focused his pain into a nearly fanatical desire for improvement. Rejecting the obtuse, abstract, expensive and time consuming study required for magic, he devoted himself to the path of the spear. It was a readily available weapon, cheap to acquire, and those who used it were in regular demand in many places. So, he sought out a small mercenary company that had recently suffered losses and used both his little savings and his determination to secure himself a position there.

Since then, his training was relentless. Others practiced striking wooden poles to improve accuracy. Trace practiced striking twigs, then leaves. But, he found that precise strikes were far more difficult when it came time for real combat.

He was 21. The job was simple, escort a low rank noble kid to an academy. The Pierced Shield Mercenary Company had never been large so the whole company came on most missions. This was no exception. They met with the client, took up formations and set out in the morning at a measured pace. The formation was simple since the vast majority of the members of Pierced Shield wielded swords or bows. When evening came, however, the young master in the carriage decided that he wanted to get to the academy early so that he could make a better impression on his teachers. He ordered the group to continue on through the night.

They were ambushed.

The battle was chaotic and the enemy were no mere bandits. They were trained assassins and soldiers, though their insignia were hidden. The majority of the attack's force struck at the front and the flank of the formation Several were archers while most wielded spears or swords. The archers began the attack with flaming arrows and the carriage was aflame in moments. The young master scrambled out the door only to be swiftly speared by the lances of the assassins who had charged in headlong.

Trace was positioned toward the rear and saw this clearly. The assassins seemed to be well prepared for much of what the Pierced Shield could bring to bear and the best of the Pierced Shield warriors were only able to bring down a few of the enemy before falling. The leader too, fell under attacks from two lance warriors. As the battle continued, it became obvious that the mercenaries were going to lose. The assassins divided their forces then, focusing their swordsmen and remaining archers on finishing off the veteran mercenaries who remained in the core of the formation. The rookies at the back were targeted by the remaining assassins who used lances.

All the rookies, except for Trace, wielded swords. Trace knew that they had no chance. He told them to run before taking a stand between the fleeing rookie recruits and the approaching lance assassins. There were six of them, cocky and bold with blood dulling the shine of their lances. Trace stayed on the move. Maintaining smooth footwork and keeping his balance as he moved let them engage him, but only one at a time. For the first time in his life, he fought with all his skill and he discovered something.

He was really, really good.

It was only a few moments before those six lances lay on the ground beside their fallen wielders. In that moment of quiet that followed, Trace looked around and found that none of the other enemies were looking his way. They were all focused on bringing down the last of the Pierced Shield veterans. Trace knew that he was good, very good, but there were more than two dozen swords and four bows over there. He didn't have a chance and neither did the veterans of the company.

He turned and fled, following the other rookies into the night.

Only a small handful of rookies from the Pierced Shield managed to escape that ambush and the group was dissolved with each going their own way, mostly to other mercenary companies that liked having recruits who had already had some training and experience but wouldn't command a high wage. Trace, however, knew that he might have attracted dangerous attention with his performance in that battle. He avoided mercenary companies and became a solo hired lance instead.

Two years later, after many poorly paid odd jobs and occasional caravan guard contracts, Trace heard rumors of war. It was time to see if he could do something more impressive than surviving. He traveled to where the young prince was gathering troops and signed up.

[Combat]
Class: Recruit
Affinity: Umbral
Inventory:
Iron Lance
Vulnerary

Abilities:
Spear Insight - +1 to STR, DEX, and SPD vs Spear wielders

Spell/Weapon Arts:
[Start] Heartstopper - A decisive jab that prevents counter-attack, but at lowered damage.

Stats:
END: E
STR: D
MAG: D
DEX: C
SPD: C
DEF: D
RES: E
LCK: E

Talents:
Spear

Experience: 85/85

Support:

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki

How's this? I reworked the battle portion of his backstory.

Trace Retloth

https://pin.it/lui4u4jxvdbb4e
Name: Trace Retloth
Age: 23
Gender: Male

Personality: Generally taciturn and shy, he prefers to simply let unnecessary conversations pass by him like the breeze. Patient and intense, he takes the words of others very seriously and holds hypocrites and liars in utter contempt. Ironically, while he takes words very seriously from others, he prefers to express his own feelings with actions and has achieved some small recognition for his lack of fear and hesitation.

Backstory:
Born the illegitimate son of a lesser Empire noble and a high class courtesan in the capital, he had a fairly comfortable childhood and even received some minor magical instruction. But, a rivalry between courtesans resulted in his mother's face being disfigured. She suffered a meteoric fall from grace and her son fell with her. His limited magical ability was barely enough to frighten a neighborhood bully but it allowed him to provide some little protection for his mother from the numerous small cruelties of their harsh new life.

But, this only lasted for a few short years. When he was 12, bandits raided the slum where Trace lived with his mother. He was out looking for work and only returned in time to see their shack collapse, one of many that were engulfed in flames. Soldiers had killed the bandits and were fighting the fire but their best efforts were barely enough to keep the flames from spreading to more wealthy parts of the city. The survivors were forcibly evacuated and the victims were buried in mass graves, too badly burned to be identified.

Trace never found his mother's body.

Trace felt that he had been running from the truth. He had failed to grasp the kind of power he would have needed to save his mother.
But, instead of wallowing in guilt, he focused his pain into a nearly fanatical desire for improvement. Rejecting the obtuse, abstract, expensive and time consuming study required for magic, he devoted himself to the path of the spear. It was a readily available weapon, cheap to acquire, and those who used it were in regular demand in many places. So, he sought out a small mercenary company that had recently suffered losses and used both his little savings and his determination to secure himself a position there.

Since then, his training was relentless. Others practiced striking wooden poles to improve accuracy. Trace practiced striking twigs, then leaves. But, he found that precise strikes were far more difficult when it came time for real combat.

He was 21. The job was simple, escort a low rank noble kid to an academy. The Pierced Shield Mercenary Company had never been large so the whole company came on most missions. This was no exception. They met with the client, took up formations and set out in the morning at a measured pace. The formation was simple since the vast majority of the members of Pierced Shield wielded swords or bows. When evening came, however, the young master in the carriage decided that he wanted to get to the academy early so that he could make a better impression on his teachers. He ordered the group to continue on through the night.

They were ambushed.

The battle was chaotic and the enemy were no mere bandits. They were trained assassins and soldiers, though their insignia were hidden. The majority of the attack's force struck at the front and the flank of the formation Several were archers while most wielded spears or swords. The archers began the attack with flaming arrows and the carriage was aflame in moments. The young master scrambled out the door only to be swiftly speared by the lances of the assassins who had charged in headlong.

Trace was positioned toward the rear and saw this clearly. The assassins seemed to be well prepared for much of what the Pierced Shield could bring to bear and the best of the Pierced Shield warriors were only able to bring down a few of the enemy before falling. The leader too, fell under attacks from two lance warriors. As the battle continued, it became obvious that the mercenaries were going to lose. The assassins divided their forces then, focusing their swordsmen and remaining archers on finishing off the veteran mercenaries who remained in the core of the formation. The rookies at the back were targeted by the remaining assassins who used lances.

All the rookies, except for Trace, wielded swords. Trace knew that they had no chance. He told them to run before taking a stand between the fleeing rookie recruits and the approaching lance assassins. There were six of them, cocky and bold with blood dulling the shine of their lances. Trace stayed on the move. Maintaining smooth footwork and keeping his balance as he moved let them engage him, but only one at a time. For the first time in his life, he fought with all his skill and he discovered something.

He was really, really good.

It was only a few moments before those six lances lay on the ground beside their fallen wielders. In that moment of quiet that followed, Trace looked around and found that none of the other enemies were looking his way. They were all focused on bringing down the last of the Pierced Shield veterans. Trace knew that he was good, very good, but there were more than two dozen swords and four bows over there. He didn't have a chance and neither did the veterans of the company.

He turned and fled, following the other rookies into the night.

Only a small handful of rookies from the Pierced Shield managed to escape that ambush and the group was dissolved with each going their own way, mostly to other mercenary companies that liked having recruits who had already had some training and experience but wouldn't command a high wage. Trace, however, knew that he might have attracted dangerous attention with his performance in that battle. He avoided mercenary companies and became a solo hired lance instead.

Two years later, after many poorly paid odd jobs and occasional caravan guard contracts, Trace heard rumors of war. It was time to see if he could do something more impressive than surviving. He traveled to where the young prince was gathering troops and signed up.

[Combat]
Class: Recruit
Affinity: Umbral
Inventory:
Iron Lance
Vulnerary

Abilities:
Spear Insight - +1 to STR, DEX, and SPD vs Spear wielders

Spell/Weapon Arts:
[Start] Heartstopper - A decisive jab that prevents counter-attack, but at lowered damage.

Stats:
END: E
STR: D
MAG: D
DEX: C
SPD: C
DEF: D
RES: E
LCK: E

Talents:
Spear

Experience:

Support:

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki So, to clarify, you want me to be more explicit about his level of skill with the lance. Or perhaps you're thinking of having him start with a great lance? I was heavily implying his expertise with the training references but I can tweak the ambush scene to showcase his abilities a little more obviously if you wish.

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki

The backstory is complete. What do you think?

Trace Retloth

https://pin.it/lui4u4jxvdbb4e
Name: Trace Retloth
Age: 23
Gender: Male

Personality: Generally taciturn and shy, he prefers to simply let unnecessary conversations pass by him like the breeze. Patient and intense, he takes the words of others very seriously and holds hypocrites and liars in utter contempt. Ironically, while he takes words very seriously from others, he prefers to express his own feelings with actions and has achieved some small recognition for his lack of fear and hesitation.

Backstory:
Born the illegitimate son of a lesser Empire noble and a high class courtesan in the capital, he had a fairly comfortable childhood and even received some minor magical instruction. But, a rivalry between courtesans resulted in his mother's face being disfigured. She suffered a meteoric fall from grace and her son fell with her. His limited magical ability was barely enough to frighten a neighborhood bully but it allowed him to provide some little protection for his mother from the numerous small cruelties of their harsh new life.

But, this only lasted for a few short years. When he was 12, bandits raided the slum where Trace lived with his mother. He was out looking for work and only returned in time to see their shack collapse, one of many that were engulfed in flames. Soldiers had killed the bandits and were fighting the fire but their best efforts were barely enough to keep the flames from spreading to more wealthy parts of the city. The survivors were forcibly evacuated and the victims were buried in mass graves, too badly burned to be identified.

Trace never found his mother's body.

Trace felt that he had been running from the truth. He had failed to grasp the kind of power he would have needed to save his mother.
But, instead of wallowing in guilt, he focused his pain into a nearly fanatical desire for improvement. Rejecting the obtuse, abstract, expensive and time consuming study required for magic, he devoted himself to the path of the spear. It was a readily available weapon, cheap to acquire, and those who used it were in regular demand in many places. So, he sought out a small mercenary company that had recently suffered losses and used both his little savings and his determination to secure himself a position there.

Since then, his training was relentless. Others practiced striking wooden poles to improve accuracy. Trace practiced striking twigs, then leaves. But, he found that precise strikes were far more difficult when it came time for real combat.

He was 21. The job was simple, escort a low rank noble kid to an academy. The Pierced Shield Mercenary Company had never been large so the whole company came on most missions. This was no exception. They met with the client, took up formations and set out in the morning at a measured pace. The formation was simple since the vast majority of the members of Pierced Shield wielded swords or bows. When evening came, however, the young master in the carriage decided that he wanted to get to the academy early so that he could make a better impression on his teachers. He ordered the group to continue on through the night.

They were ambushed.

The battle was chaotic and the enemy were no mere bandits. They were trained assassins and soldiers, though their insignia were hidden. The majority of the attack's force struck at the front and the flank of the formation Several were archers while most wielded spears or swords. The archers began the attack with flaming arrows and the carriage was aflame in moments. The young master scrambled out the door only to be swiftly speared by the lances of the assassins who had charged in headlong.

Trace was positioned toward the rear and saw this clearly. The assassins seemed to be well prepared for much of what the Pierced Shield could bring to bear and the best of the Pierced Shield warriors were only able to bring down a few of the enemy before falling. The leader too, fell under attacks from two lance warriors. As the battle continued, it became obvious that the mercenaries were going to lose. The assassins divided their forces then, focusing their swordsmen and remaining archers on finishing off the veteran mercenaries who remained in the core of the formation. The rookies at the back were targeted by the remaining assassins who used lances.

All the rookies, except for Trace, wielded swords. Trace knew that they had no chance. He told them to run before taking a stand between the fleeing rookie recruits and the approaching lance assassins. There were six of them, cocky and bold with blood dulling the shine of their lances. Trace stayed on the move. Maintaining smooth footwork and keeping his balance as he moved let them engage him, but only one at a time. For the first time in his life, he fought with all his skill and he discovered something.

He was really, really good.

It was only a few moments before those six lances lay on the ground beside their fallen wielders. In that moment of quiet that followed, Trace looked around and found that none of the other enemies were looking his way. They were all focused on bringing down the last of the Pierced Shield veterans. Trace knew that he was good, very good, but there were more than two dozen swords and four bows over there. He didn't have a chance and neither did the veterans of the company.

He turned and fled, following the other rookies into the night.

Only a small handful of rookies from the Pierced Shield managed to escape that ambush and the group was dissolved with each going their own way, mostly to other mercenary companies that liked having recruits who had already had some training and experience but wouldn't command a high wage. Trace, however, knew that he might have attracted dangerous attention with his performance in that battle. He avoided mercenary companies and became a solo hired lance instead.

Two years later, after many poorly paid odd jobs and occasional caravan guard contracts, Trace heard rumors of war. It was time to see if he could do something more impressive than surviving. He traveled to where the young prince was gathering troops and signed up.

[Combat]
Class: Recruit
Affinity: Umbral
Inventory:
Iron Lance
Vulnerary

Abilities:
Spear Insight - +1 to STR, DEX, and SPD vs Spear wielders

Spell/Weapon Arts:
[Start] Heartstopper - A decisive jab that prevents counter-attack, but at lowered damage.

Stats:
END: E
STR: D
MAG: D
DEX: C
SPD: C
DEF: D
RES: E
LCK: E

Talents:
Spear

Experience:

Support:

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki

Yeah, that was the feel I had as well. I was thinking that it could function like a martial art and take a point off the weapon every time it triggered but that would still be too overpowered.

I'm still working on the character, of course, and there are far more important aspects to finish. Still, there's an aspect to him that I was hoping to explore through an ability of some sort. Here's what I have so far. If you have any advice or input to offer, I will be quite pleased to receive it.

Trace Retloth

https://pin.it/lui4u4jxvdbb4e
Name: Trace Retloth
Age: 23
Gender: Male

Personality: Generally taciturn and shy, he prefers to simply let unnecessary conversations pass by him like the breeze. Patient and intense, he takes the words of others very seriously and holds hypocrites and liars in utter contempt. Ironically, while he takes words very seriously from others, he prefers to express his own feelings with actions and has achieved some small recognition for his lack of fear and hesitation.

Backstory:
Born the illegitimate son of a lesser Empire noble and a high class courtesan in the capital, he had a fairly comfortable childhood and even received some minor magical instruction. But, a rivalry between courtesans resulted in his mother's face being disfigured. She suffered a meteoric fall from grace and her son fell with her. His limited magical ability was barely enough to frighten a neighborhood bully but it allowed him to provide some little protection for his mother from the numerous small cruelties of their harsh new life.

But, this only lasted for a few short years. When he was 12, bandits raided the slum where Trace lived with his mother. He was out looking for work and only returned in time to see their shack collapse, one of many that were engulfed in flames. Soldiers had killed the bandits and were fighting the fire but their best efforts were barely enough to keep the flames from spreading to more wealthy parts of the city. The survivors were forcibly evacuated and the victims were buried in mass graves, too badly burned to be identified.

Trace never found his mother's body.

Trace felt that he had been running from the truth. He had failed to grasp the kind of power he would have needed to save his mother.
But, instead of wallowing in guilt, he focused his pain into a nearly fanatical desire for improvement. Rejecting the obtuse, abstract, expensive and time consuming study required for magic, he devoted himself to the path of the spear. It was a readily available weapon, cheap to acquire, and those who used it were in regular demand in many places. So, he sought out a small mercenary company that had recently suffered losses and used both his little savings and his determination to secure himself a position there.

Since then, his training was relentless. Others practiced striking wooden poles to improve accuracy. Trace practiced striking twigs, then leaves. But, he found that precise strikes were far more difficult when it came time for real combat.

He was 21. The job was simple, escort a low rank noble kid to an academy. The Pierced Shield Mercenary Company had never been large so the whole company came on most missions. This was no exception. They met with the client, took up formations and set out in the morning at a measured pace. When evening came, however, the young master in the carriage decided that he wanted to get to the academy early so that he could make a better impression on his teachers. He ordered the group to continue on through the night.

They were ambushed.

The battle was chaotic and the enemy were no mere bandits. They were trained assassins and soldiers, though their insignia were hidden. The carriage was riddled with flaming arrows in moments. Trace managed to bring one enemy down while his back was exposed. But, his next breath allowed him to see the best of the Pierced Shield fall, including the leader. He had no chance of winning that fight and the young master didn't make it out of the carriage before being struck down. With the enemy distracted by those of his fellows who wore more flashy armor, Trace fled into the darkness. Only a small handful of the Pierced Shield managed to escape that ambush and the group was dissolved with each going their own way.

Two years later, after odd jobs and occasional caravan guard contracts, Trace heard rumors of war. It was time to see if he could do something more impressive than surviving. He traveled to where the young prince was gathering troops and signed up.

[Combat]
Class: Recruit
Affinity: Umbral
Inventory:
Iron Spear
Vulnerary

Abilities:

Spell/Weapon Arts:
[Start] Heartstopper - A decisive jab that prevents counter-attack, but at lowered damage.

Stats:
END: E
STR: D
MAG: D
DEX: C
SPD: C
DEF: D
RES: E
LCK: E

Talents:
Spear

Experience:

Support:

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

What is your opinion of this concept for a unique ability.

[%50 chance of countering any ranged or magical attack with instinctive chaotic magic that strikes with ½ MAG. Ignores range. Inflicts “Disruption” for 2 rounds causing any spell cast by the target to cause %50 reduced damage and any projectile attack to suffer %50 reduced accuracy.]

Fire Emblem: Chronicles of Ash

Also interested. Currently working on a couple character concepts... I have a couple ideas that I will probably PM you about later. Need sleep for work.

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

@Stabby @Zeroth

Your MP is Full.

System:Femus

Femus had refilled his mana far faster than he expected and he did seem to have had some success in altering the mana levels around him. However, at that point, he was interrupted by what was almost certainly a wild pixie. This… was not good. Those creatures were the living embodiment of distraction. One of getting interested was bad enough but they liked to play in groups too. It would be reckless to assume that that one would not want to have more fun with other pixies.

He thought briefly of warning Nira but remembered that she had not stayed close and instead gone elsewhere to practice her meditation. He didn't dare rush out at present. He had to deal with the issue at hand first.

There was little time to waste. He had to prepare to defend this place… or provide the pixie with enough of a distraction to forget him and this place. But, first… It reminded him of something. Pixies could shield themselves. He decided to try and replicate that spell, surrounding himself with mana and trying to infuse it into either his body or the glow that surrounded him.

He had seen that the spell didn’t create a barrier. It seemed to be more like a resistance spell, something to provide additional toughness. So, he kept that in mind and sought to shape the nature of his mana so that it would linger in his body as a kind of hindering force, pushing back against anything that approached and diminishing its force. He would practice this until he achieved success, was interrupted, or felt that he only had enough mana for one mana orb left. At that point, he would meditate back to full mana, still trying to enrich his surroundings with mana. He would repeat this in cycles, barring interruption.

Hopefully, he could encourage some of the local blue flowers to form seeds before he had to abandon this tree. That would be a treasure beyond measure for a developing magic user… and he didn’t want to let his efforts in adjusting the environment here go to waste. The enhanced mana density in the hollow should have some effect on the flowers growing on the outside of the hollow tree.

Then again, maybe it was the enhanced density of mana that attracted the pixie. They relied on mana to live as well. Maybe he hadn’t been cautious enough. While he had been trying to develop a strong foundation patiently and safely, it wouldn’t help him at all if he couldn’t survive the whims of pixies. He would need to enhance his lethality.

As soon as he was able to shield himself, unless he was interrupted, he would begin a similar cycle of training attempting to condense a mana orb into a smaller, faster, and more penetrating form. In effect, he wasn’t looking for a piercing tip but rather a more focused shaped charge. If all the orb’s power was released in the direction of the surface it impacted then the damage it did should increase as well. Yet, as he focused his mind on that aspect, he found himself repeatedly thinking of flames and lightning.

Both would burn through objects and he remembered everything about them that he had ever experienced or learned. He remembered the times he burned himself when he was trying to help in the kitchen, times he was shown pictures of lightning strikes, explosions in action movies that seemed to fill the target and reduce it to rubble and ash from within, being shocked by static, overheating a knife accidentally by leaving it on the stove too close to the flame, seeing jumper cables melt as sparks and arcing electricity overwhelmed it.

Burning from within, arcing instantly over vast distances and piercing any defense. These were the thoughts that came to mind as he sought to compress and focus his mana orbs.

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

@Stabby@Zeroth

Femus bobbed briefly in acknowledgement. Nira had practical goals entwined with some fairly normal dreams. There was nothing shocking or profound, but that was interesting in itself. Even in this strange and difficult to define situation she was able to stay grounded and ultimately seek something like a normal life. Femus wasn't entirely sure that he could do that. He had a feeling that the level of power that he desired would force him to take a more extraordinary path in the end.

But, for now...

"Alright. Let's get going." He said decisively as he levitated higher and led the way to his tree hole.

He lingered outside the hole for a moment, checking for unfamiliar scents or signs that a slime or some other creature might have slipped in during his absence. If he found none then he proceeded inside, inadvertently lighting the dark space with his glow. There wasn't anything of note inside but the hole was deep enough to mostly hide them from the outside. Even Femus's glow was difficult to see after he went around the small bend in the hole.

Here was a fairly safe nook where they could recover and meditate. It wouldn't do to linger here too long, but it might do until they were ready to make a move toward escaping the goblins. It wouldn't be easy to get out of this encirclement, even if they grew more powerful. From what Femus had noticed about his power, it was likely that he couldn't be confident of his odds of breaking out alone before he made level 15. And, even then, he would need the right set of skills. With Nira beside him, the two of them might be able to do it by level 10. Still, the two of them were both dependent on magic. They lacked the physical ability to simply keep fighting.

"We need to increase the amount of time that we can stay in combat. We can't bet everything on a single high power skill or lucky blow. I have no intention of throwing this life away for nothing, either yours or mine." He said seriously as he settled onto a ridge where a long rotted knot deformed the side of the hollow space. "I need to be able to attack repeatedly, beyond the expectations of any opponent. I've been training to increase my maximum magic capacity to achieve this. The results have been notable but limited. I managed to increase my maximum capacity by 50%, allowing me to cast three mana orbs before being exhausted. The training that I used was based on meditation but with certain changes."

Femus paused for a moment, giving Nira time to consider the implications of what he was going to teach her. Even if she didn't decide to use this particular modified form of meditation, he was still teaching her one of his secrets. It was a potent gesture of trust. He hoped it was the right move.

"Meditation is simple." He continued. "Block out the world around you, sensation, planning, worry, everything. Then regulate your breathing and focus inward and intensify your awareness of your body and the flow of magic that moves through you, using that flow to draw in the magic from the environment around you and replenish your supply." He paused again, though only for a moment. "However, to increase your capacity the way I did, you must intensify the flow. Make it faster and denser. Think of the pathways it follows as being like your veins and encourage those veins to grow larger and stronger, to hold more and more. Also, do not stop meditating when you have reached your maximum magic capacity. Stretch those mana veins by overfilling them and giving them time to adjust to being overfull. But, do not push too hard or you may invite unpleasant side effects." He paused again. This time he remained silent for nearly a full minute before he spoke again.

"Do you have any questions before we begin meditating?"

If Nira had no questions then he would simply begin meditating, following the very method that he had just described. However, he did add one element to his own meditation that he did not tell Nira to attempt. He sought to extend his aura and draw more mana into the surrounding area than he could absorb with his body. He was seeking to saturate the area around the two of them with ambient mana to speed their recovery. He was also hoping to be able to create a space where those lovely blue flowers would grow easily. He still hadn't given up hope of cultivating them but he knew that for the plant to give mana, it would need to gather it from the environment. Thus, he had to develop a way of increasing the environmental mana in an area. Even if the effect wasn't enough to cultivate the flowers, it could still be of use helping any allies he had recover their mana faster. It might even help their meditation skills improve to a point where it could be used while on the move.

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

@Stabby@Zeroth

Femus's previous small grin was nothing in comparison to the... relatively wide smile that he developed after seeing Nira's expression. He had a feeling that if she had been younger she would have stomped her foot and glared at him for catching her. It was an adorable thought. But, the moment was brief and Nira's response brought them back to business immediately. It seemed the verbal games were indeed over.

Besides, she had just let slip that she spent her previous life in a hospital. That... wasn't funny.

The smile vanished.

Femus's new body had little when it came to expression so the brief feeling of pity that flowed through his consciousness didn't show. Still, it took a few moments for him to quiet that down and clear his thinking. It was highly unlikely that the person in front of him would appreciate something as useless as pity. It was likely better to take her words seriously and be as genuine as possible, especially if this green wisp wanted to maintain a lasting partnership with her.

It took a little effort to ensure that his voice wouldn't betray his earlier feelings, though his brief time of silence could be interpreted in several ways. "It's a bit cliche, I guess. I want power, power sufficient to protect what I want to protect from anything. If the Demon King will help me get there... I'll work with him. If his enemies will help me get there, I'll work with them. For right now, I just need to survive and get stronger. With how little I know of this world, making long range plans just doesn't seem practical to me."

He didn't mind the fact that Nira hadn't responded to his urging. It seemed that she wanted to understand his motives before following him anywhere. That was understandable. Still, the longer they spent out here in the open the more likely it became that they would attract unwanted attention from the goblins or other local predators. They were having a chat right next to a half-eaten rat on the forest floor after all.

"Is there anything else you would like to know about me before we move? I'd rather not be ambushed before I recover my mana."