Joan of Arc

*"I remember my mission."*

**Joan of Arc** is a strength-based support hero of the Dimensional faction. She is based on real-life patron saint of France Joan of Arc.

## Background

The flames in the middle of the old market square had already engulfed Joan of Arc. Before losing consciousness, memories of where she had grown up flashed in front of her eyes. The destruction of that beautiful village had served as her motivation, making her determined to protect her home. In just a few short years, Joan the country girl had become Joan the country commander.

But she would not see victory.

Of course, the Joan burning in agony as flames surged around her did not know of the glittering honors bestowed upon her by future generations. She had been defeated and captured a year ago, and for the past several months had been facing the most absurd accusations – a show trial with sham charges, aimed solely at sending her to the stake.

Braced for death, Joan never expected the smoke to clear, let alone to wake up in a completely different place. Astonished she looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Gone was the crowded throng of peasants, the market square, and the raging flames. Instead, she looked out upon a peaceful street, lined with rows of modest houses.

Before she had time to think if this was some kind of miracle, she was almost sent flying by a bunch of children as they ran past, laughing joyfully. A young housewife immediately poked her head out of a nearby window to apologize, while the group of children stopped to stare at this strange new arrival, shuffling and grinning awkwardly. Joan couldn’t help but laugh, as she reached out to tousle the nearest child’s scruffy hair.

Her sudden, surprise relocation meant Joan, once entrusted with the weighty task of defending her country and her home, was at a total loss as to what to do. She wandered aimlessly around the small village, eventually coming across a small chapel. Hesitating only briefly, Joan entered the chapel and listened to the monks intoning their prayers.

Would Dura, goddess of Esperia, bestow her blessings on this stranger? Joan stood in the chapel and looked at the portrait of the goddess, yet prayed not to this unknown divinity, nor felt the warmth of the Divine Light.

The inhabitants of the tranquil little town accepted their dimensional visitor, and in the days that followed Joan lived and worked among them as if she was but a normal young woman. Joan had long since lost her sword but, while she felt the occasional pang of regret, she knew that ordinary farming tools were of more use to the peaceful residents. Sometimes, however, she would hear the familiar neigh of horses as she passed the stables, or bedazzled by the noonday sun glinting off the blacksmith’s hammer. Those days, she knew that the chaos and din of battle would once again invade her dreams that evening.

I wonder how my home is faring. Can we win? But what can I do, anyway, when I’m stuck here?

After some time, however, Joan changed her mind.

It was a sultry summer eve, and Joan was putting bell-mouthed orchids, laid out to dry on the balcony, into baskets. She loved the beautiful flowers because they reminded her of the blue-purple irises which grew around her hometown. Suddenly, the distant sound of jingling bells from a donkey cart reached her ears.

Joan looked around and saw several merchants rushing into the sleepy village, one of them waving his arm and shouting something about a Hypogean attack. Covered in blood and grime, they rode their donkeys without their trailing carts, having sacrifice their bulky cargo for speed. The donkeys seemed terrified too, and ignored the threats and whips of the merchants. They rushed about madly, and one of them even threw its rider to the ground.

As Joan stared, dumbstruck, an old priest hurriedly led several of his younger brethren out from the nearby chapel. He crouched down to help the fallen merchant back on his feet while telling his brothers to help others or flee.

Just then, the huge bell in the central square tolled. Its deep, resonant rings reverberated through the evening air. The bell called forth the villagers, the light cast by their flickering torches revealing resolute, grim countenances. One elderly man ordered his grandson to go inside, while the priest mumbled prayers for divine aid in battle. More and more young men and women assembled, clutching a variety of axes, sickles, hoes and other makeshift weaponry. While they may not have had much formal training, it was clearly not the first time they had faced a Hypogean threat.

It would appear that this apparently peaceful village had been suffocating in the shadow of the Hypogeans.

Joan joined the group of young villagers without a second’s thought, striding them towards the entrance of the village. She took a long, unwieldy sword from one of the villagers, its unfamiliar heft making her thankful she hadn’t forgotten her fundamental training.

Looking around her, Joan thought that the faces of the villagers looked familiar. The she put her finger on it – the faces of her old battlefield comrades had often held the same resolute expressions. In times of peace, they’d tell each other of their hometowns: the rippling fields of wheat, the lazy flocks of sheep, the jars of pickled produce. Or maybe they’d speak of snow falling softly onto pine roofs, or of grinding, crunching, creaking millstones. Then, in times of war, it would be these memories that drove them to the battlefield without hesitation.

Joan smiled, brandishing her sword as she joined the others in rushing straight at the Hypogeans. This was her first experience of fighting such creatures, but it mattered not. None would be permitted to breach the warriors’ defensive line, fighting as they were for their very homes – whether in her own hometown or in Esperia.

Several days later, Joan departed for the imperial capital. The old priest had said that other dimensional visitors could be found there, and perhaps together they could find a way to fix the dimensional rifts. Joan thought of her mission: victory and freedom for her hometown and her country. But, before she could find a way home, her blade would first come to the aid of the people of Esperia.

## Engraving Abilities

**(Eternal Engravings)**
**Shield**
receive healing from Joan of Arc, their Attack Rating and Defense Rating are increased
by 10% for 8 seconds. Effect stacks, up to 30% of Joan of Arc’s corresponding stat.

Reach 2 Star Ascended with this hero to gain: ACC +16.67

 60
**Barrier**
Stun is triggered and damage is increased.

Reach 4 Star Ascended with this hero to gain: ACC +16.67

 80
Legends' Championship, Treeasure Scramble, Heroes of Esperia:
RH +8.33 HP +13.7%

## Signature Item

### Item: Iris Standard

Joan of Arc's original standard has been lost on the other side of the dimension. This new one was made after arriving in Esperia in the hope of defeating Hypogeans. Blessed by the Temple of Light, the standard preserves the Mark of Iris found in Joan of Arc's hometown.

### Skill: Standard Protection

After Joan of Arc places the Phantom Standard in the enemy’s backline, allied heroes take 6% less damage. The reduced damage will be converted into Joan od Arc's Protection Value.

* **[+10 Unlocks]** After Joan of Arc places the Phantom Standard in the enemy’s backline; allied heroes take 12% less damage. The reduced damage will be converted into Joan of Arc’s Protection Value.

* **[+20 Unlocks]** For the first 3 seconds of battle, Joan of Arc is immune to all damage and converts them into Protection Value instead.

* **[+30 Unlocks]** After Joan of Arc places the Phantom Standard in the enemy’s backline, allied heroes take 16% less damage: The reduced damage will be converted into Joan of Arc’s Protection Value.

## Furniture Set Bonuses

### Graceful Blessing

* **[3/9 Mythic Pieces]** When Joan of Arc reaches the enemy’s backline, she is able to cast her Ultimate without using energy.

* **[9/9 Mythic Pieces]** When Joan of Arc casts her Ultimate, the Protection Value will no longer be cleared, but reduced to 50% of the original value.