Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
Caster frowned, turning the brass handgun over in her hand and lightly slapping the side with the flat of her other hand, several times. One of the lights dimmed, then began to glow again with a soft hum. "Really now, how troubling a start," she complained softly.
Granted, this was the first time she had ever specially tried to calibrate for a spiritual body, but even so, these creatures were made of sturdier stuff than she expected from their lovely pale fur. She re-evaluated them, respectfully, her smile still breezy but her gaze sharpened.
Already, two of the beasts were upon her, so quick after growling an ominous warning only a moment before. If she thought any slower, she would still be processing their message while they rended her flesh. Her goggle tracked the one still pursuing Erika, but then focused back on the immediate threat to her being.
It would have been normal to throw her arms up to defend her face and body.
To protect her vital areas from harm at the expense of her limbs.
A perfectly normal, instinctive reaction for most people.
But Caster seemed to lack that instinctive reaction entirely. Instead, after visibly thinking about it for a moment, the girl calmly turned slightly to the side and offered up her shoulder, holding her arms close to her body to better protect them. At least that way her hands would be intact.
No reason to damage the tools of my craft this early. Besides, it'd be an unappetizing meal, no?
She braced herself, the servant expecting the momentary flush of a pain unlike the kind she already knew and recognized from her own life. Hm. I wonder what this sort feels like, she mused, closing her eyes.
...
Caster opened her blue eye with a blink. She would need to wait to find out, it seemed - the hounds' teeth and claws met only air, and it was the air that held firm. Oh, how neat! She quite wanted to poke the air to see if her own finger was repelled, but it seemed she was too late to test the effect. Reacting quickly as the frozen air reverted to normal, Caster leveled one glove at the first dog to attack her, while the barrel of her gun swung to the second attacker with a resounding metallic click.
In respect of the beasts' efforts, she wouldn't hold back.
"▂▄▄▂▃▄▄Unbind," her voice warbled, electricity crackling forth even while she depressed the trigger with her other hand.
Wise up!
Statistics: STR: D+ (C+) END: D AGI: C+ (B+) MGI: A (420/800) LCK: C
Dog Team Alpha 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
The two hounds had succeeded in their attack against the fleeing knight, drawing the young man's blood once more. Instinctively they could feel that victory was drawing close, that somehow, in these impossible circumstances, they could very well come close to felling what once seemed to be an unbeatable target. However this did not mean they could become complacent, they could not allow their prey even a moment's reprieve and so they rebounded themselves off the container wall that Archer's sword had been embedded in onto a nearby set of containers from which they could launch their next attack.
However it seemed their target was thinking the same thing as well. Before they could even hope to charge at him once more, let alone determine where he had landed, two arrows flew straight at them. One had struck it's mark, resulting in a whine escaping from the hound's mouth as it began to disappear. The other however had ended up missing, instead embedding itself deeply into the container, mere inches away from the hound.
Now only one hound remained to deal with Archer, the chances of him coming out victorious in this encounter had just literally been shot down. However even if he was alone, even his chances of victory had become non-existent, he would not flee.
And thus there remained only one thing left for him to do...
Dog Team Bravo 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
The hounds' attacks had been stopped in their tracks by what appeared to be the air itself. It was strange, to say the least, however their opponent would not allow them the time to ponder on what had just occurred. With the crackle of lightning and the strange sound emitted from the even stranger gun that Caster the two hounds found themselves rapidly disappearing from the world.
And now on this side of the battlefield as well only one hound remained, hopelessly outnumbered against two magi and a servant. Nonetheless, just as its brother was unwilling to give up, neither would he. It was possible that it could attempt to once again strike against the young maiden, but where she had fled made the thought unappealing. No, it was clear that the only viable target in this situation was the Caster who had once again left herself wide open. No doubt his attack would be made futile by the same strange spell that had rendered his brother's efforts meaningless, but nonetheless that didn't mean he could not try.
And thus there remained only one thing left for him to do...
Dog Team Alpha and Dog Team Bravo 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Each hound made one last charge at their respective Servant opponent, dead set on making their last actions in this world ones which would bring their Master closer to attaining his Wish, even if only just a little bit.
Lancer of White
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
The situation had certainly changed now. She had lost her countenance earlier, and as such had to live with the impression her previously brash behavior had suggested. This was no longer about a simple demonstration of power before an opponent. This body allowed her to step into battle herself, and as such it must have slipped her mind ever so momentarily that the loyalties of this conflict were still ever shifting.
In one sense, the situation as presented however created a better foundation for negotiation in the first place. The ultima ratio regum existed for a reason after all, and there were plenty of rulers that were not so keen on keeping their particular measure truly the last.
"No innocent blood would have stuck to our hands at the very least, Servant."
In a way this terminology still felt foreign to her, moreso than these streets or the changed looks of the people. After all, rabble never had a tendency to stay still. Its constant alteration comes as a surprise to no one. But having to alter her own demeanor, to speak to people in silly nicknames made the words that left her mouth feel strangely alien.
"Though, for the success of said measure We would have required slightly more time. Perhaps We shall search for a more agreeable hymn next time to ensure the success of Our humanitarian interests? In any case, We are not here to be an absolute judge of Mister Freogan's character. That one resides in other spheres We are afraid. Regardless, We find his agreement agreeable ourselves. Even if it is but a feint, it is a feint that saves lives. Simply the terms are what we are...not quite content with"
The previously raised hand was now extended forward. There was a smile on Lancer's face as if to suggest the previous actions filled with murderous intent had never happened. It was the kind of look you would expect of a conductor to a particularly talented soloist.
At the very least extending a friendly greeting and courtesy to those that wished ruin upon her and all that was hers was nothing new. Combat might not have stopped, but it had been transplanted to a field she was a lot more comfortable playing on. Even if her opponent had been a bit laconic, she at the very least did not seem to make the impression of someone lacking in their mental faculties. There was something about her attitude that reminded her of that...glimpse she got of Shiori.
And just like back then, she was shown a spirit that was not easy to subdue. In a sense, thrilling, in another there was no way that her attitude towards Lancer had been particularly positive right now, and as such her opposition was...worrying. But in a bout of legendary heroes, people like this were just bound to exist. People that refused to just accept what had presented itself in front of them. It was after all not common sense that elevated people to the status that she had.
She relaxed just a little. Surem there were harrowing times associated with being not acknowledged, but would she stand here, as a hero of humanity if she had not faced this struggle? What point would there be in inflicting pain to her own Master if it didn't make her develop in the same manner?
“There’s no need to worry, Lancer. I don’t think Mr. Freogan or the missus would do anything dishonorable. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
As such, the next statement threw her off balance just a little less than she expected it to. Still, it left her wondering. What was this girl planning? Whatever it was, there was one thing she could not do in this moment, and that was to weaken her own position by stabbing her in the back with her honest opinion.
"As you say, Master."
Lancer slightly lowered her head. It was pragmatics that drove her to display such a gesture, but the uncomfortable feeling of something just not being as it should would not leave her. She was far from having acquire the privilege of seeing such a display, and yet the situation mandated it. There was one person who had to be in charge in the case of such a bout and as such she had to fold.
That said the whole affair made her vividly recall the sensation of being called a "familiar" by that girl and for a second the facade of hers had been in danger of crumbling. Humiliation had been an estranged friend at this point in her life, its courtesy visit in this particular scene most unfortunate.
And just in that moment the magus filled in his own opinion on the matter
"Plus you ain't a sweet lil' iron-willed lady in a fancy dress suit, so, yeah. My sovereign you ain't. You might think it bloody rude, but man's gotta respect only one authority, that of his country and current queen, right? So can't call you such grandiose titles. So if Lancer's okay with you, I'll go with that Servant Sweatpants."
"Royalty, magus, refused to be acknowledged only with usurpers. And even then a cynical man would say only with the unsuccessful ones...But We are not here to have a fight about your preferred form of address. If anything but Lancer makes you feel like treading on your queen's honor, who would We be to demand you to do otherwise? A usurper ourself, perhaps? We are afraid this is not the goal of my return to this world, so continue as you wish."
She closed the distance between them as she spoke. The other Servant seemed to have no interest to stab her back, and if there was to be trust between their factions, she would have to show it at some point anyway. Her back towards an armed opponent would be as good of a show as any.
Still, her grip around her own armament kept tight as she slightly shoved her sleeve upward. The tracksuit had chafed slightly against the artifact, and while it was in no danger of breaking a piece of materialized mystery it did cause some rather unaesthetic red fuzz to be caught in it.
The Servant had felt her a demonstration of her power, the man however still seemed quite unimpressed. Clearly, the sheer difference in their combat prowess would not be enough to get him to acknowledge her. Maybe he shared the same familiar mindset that Shiori had earlier displayed? Maybe the person walking up to him was no person at all, just a reagent for his grand ritual?
Everything relating to this war, from to its queer relations of power to its disgustingly humiliating terminology, served as an uncomfortable reminder why this particular craft should have been smothered back when royalty still had the power to do so. Too tempting was the presence of charlatans and soothsayers to the bored minds of royalty it seemed. Maybe God's plan of balance must include this potential harrowing by all that had caused these people to still walk the earth.
In fact, maybe this was the solution to all this and the lack of heavenly gates awaiting her ascension. She certainly had not lived a sin-free life as much as she aspired to it, so this might just be a very strange form of the purging flames. At the very least it would be as transient as they were said to be. Well, the flames certainly seemed to have been exaggerated, uncomfortable as the current situation might be.
"For what is it worth We are sorry we interrupted your meal. Your previous behavior suggested that you were in fact trying to attract someone. A bold strategy of one assured in their power...or one seeking to distract from something else."
She hoped that her words would reach Shiori, if she could not directly contradict her. Separating from her would be an issue in more ways than one. But in the moment, she was the one to talk, and Lancer had to remain silent. Intently, she paid attention to how the young man spoke to her Master. If there was a hint of something that had passed her by in his friendly demeanor, just the slightest slip-up on her part, she would dearly pay the price.
But for now...
"Put this on if you want. I mean, you just got blasted with an assload of water, ain't no way that tracksuit is dry or warm," he grunted. "Servant or no, I'm not gonna let a girl freeze her ass in my company, especially if we're gonna be out here any longer."
"Ah, aspects of chivalry at least seem to have survived...We thank you, Mister Freogan. But this won't be necessary. If We so desire We will simply clad ourself in the clothes this shell allows Us to manifest."
An awfully considerate mechanism considering everything else surrounding this ritual, she thought to herself while absent-mindedly grabbing the coat.
"We do not mind the feeling of the cold really...it is better to feel something at all rather than the numbness of comfort for mind and body."
She had been so focused on the man's expression and tone of voice she only now realized that she had already began wearing the jacket as a crude cape.
Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)
From atop his new perch, Michael could better see the battle devolve.
He watched impassively as Caster vaporized two of the remaining dogs, after Erika's spell deflected their fangs. They died quickly, leaving only one left.
Archer's battle, too, was coming to an end. Michael could not see it clearly, but only two blurry figures remained atop a faraway wall.
Calmly, Michael set down his case, flicked it open, and retrieved from within it a bulky cylinder. He did not lower his guard, nor did he allow the remaining hound to leave his vision. The battle was ending, but it would not be over until one side was dead or gone. Even now an upset was possible.
"Do not avert your eyes."
The words were delivered in his usual soft tone, tinged with melancholy.
Michael left the dog below to Erika. He had his own job. He raised the monocular to his right eye and fixed Archer in his now enhanced vision. He nearly regretted it; Archer was bloodied and beaten, breathing heavily while nocking one last arrow to his bow. The remaining dog faced down imminent demise much like the first. It would unceasingly chase victory, even from the edge of defeat. Such was the resolve of an expendable hunting hound.
The mental query was posited and answered in the same breath.
Michael nodded. He put down the monocular and returned to the situation below. A minuscule chance remained of Erika being attacked again, so he would not move.
Instead, he would stay, and bear witness to a dog's death.
Aila Einzbern
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Well that's certainly not what I wanted to hear.
My attempt at charming this man aside, I doubt that there's anything he could really do to stop us from entering. Disabling a single civilian would be no more than child's play and killing him would be even easier. However, before I'm able to act on my impulses, Caster speaks directly into my head. And according to her, there is an enemy Servant inside. No doubt that changes things a bit.
"Ah ha ha... My apologies, sir," I quickly shift back into the act of a bumbling foreigner (not forgetting the man before us), "It's a little disheartening to turn back after coming so far, but I suppose it can't be helped. I suppose we'll just have to work it into our schedules in the morning."
A smile, a curtsy, and a simple thank you marks the end of our conversation with the security guard. Opting to focus immediately on the information given to me, I decide it best to turn away and walk from the museum entrance. Only once I'm comfortable with the distance between the building and myself do I start giving voice to my thoughts.
"Lapis, be on guard. Even in regards to that man back there. We can't rule out the possibility of him being associated with the enemy. Caster, prepare yourself in the event someone follows. If the enemy really is Assassin, then trying to detect his presence will only hamper your response. Instead, try thinking of preemptive measures that can be utilized to counter a sudden attack. Ushabti, please assist Caster in taking any precautions she deems necessary."
My mind goes into overdrive. Almost as if a switch has been turned on, I start considering every single possibility and weighing our options against such an opponent. At the same time, I understand that I've been taught to remain calm in a situation like this; however, I can't help but feel a little nervous. Even in my previous life-or-death situations, my opponent and I have more or less always been on equal footing. But here... Here I'm up against a Servant. A hero of old... I'm more or less putting my complete faith in Caster's abilities to ensure my safety. And, quite frankly, the idea that my life rest within someone else's hands gives me a bit of unease.
"I'm counting on you, Caster..."
I unintentionally mumble this to myself, but there's no doubt that my Servant gives notice. I'm more or less just trying to calm myself and focus on the task at hand.
"It's best that we be ready in the event the enemy decides to engage us," I raise my hand and place my nail between my front teeth- nibbling ever so slightly, "That being said, I do find it odd that an Assassin class would alert us to his presence. Especially given the circumstances. That leads me to think that he's either very confident in his abilities or he has little intention of facing us in combat. That of course is slightly positive thinking..."
It also goes without saying that the museum itself could also be a trap.
"Regardless, let us stroll around town for a bit until we find a suitable place to rest. Whether or not the enemy decides to tail us will be revealed in doing so. Once we've confirmed their intents, we will act accordingly."
Another deep breath to calm my nerves.
"Any objections?"
"I promise nothing." - Sei "Kanra" Slayers
Resident Sadist. Enjoys stepping and sitting on people.
Avid lover of butts and anime.
Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)
Flicking his eyes back from his master towards the hounds, Archer saw one arrow missing the target. That was fine, he could handle one creature on its own.
The last hound, barely dodging the end of its existence, launched itself at him valiantly, with no hesitation despite its last companion dissipating into nothingness only a moment ago.
If this was what their master, the servant likely to be a Rider expected of those upon a battlefield, no wonder he had been judged a coward.
After all, his own days of charging headlong into a dragon’s lair with no plans for victory were long gone.
Neatly sidestepping the charging hound, Archer continued to shoot at it, steadying his aim as much as he could. Steadily, surely, he will eliminate each threat.
Last edited by canaki; April 27th, 2018 at 11:44 AM.
Reason: wording
Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
"They vanish? Oh, that's hardly fair at all!" Caster complained, vocally and with a stamp of her foot. She hadn't been surprised when the ones struck by her spell were taken apart, but the one she shot too? "Well, no samples then, I suppose! Ah, such a waste of lovely fur and hide."
While the girl complained and pouted, the survivor had marshaled itself for another attack, this time a bodily charge. Once again, disregarding the practical, Caster used her own body to protect her limb, with not a single sign of hesitation.
Of course, this time, no convenient wall of air intercepted the blow. Rather, the beast physically smashed into the tall servant's slender body, pushing her a few steps backwards and throwing her off-balance to one side until she was able to twist her body to the side and hop back, away from the creature. After a delay of a few moments, Caster let herself wince, at least after first evaluating her condition.
Nothing broken, good. The shoulder will heal.
Nothing damaged, good. The arms are fine.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Yes, that's acceptable enough.
"Mm," she murmured while testing the rotation of her right arm. That should be a bit tender, to be sure, she concluded. Luckily, it didn't seem likely to interfere with her use of Euterpe, as long as she shifted grips, but it was still a vexing inconvenience. At least Erika was safe, as long as the last hound was preoccupied with her. She appreciated Mr. Michael's efforts on that front, certainly.
Do stay safe up there, please. I don't imagine it will take much longer, but...
A small sigh at the distasteful task she had left to her, leveling her gun at the remaining hound, a metallic click hanging in the air. The pale beast showed no sign of hesitating, or retreat, or even consideration for its own life. "Very good. Your master would be proud, no doubt," she gave a half-smile. Her tone was soft, sincere, and conciliatory."My sincerest apologies that I'm so short on treats, this evening."
Pulling the trigger, the gun flashed and the oscillating sound of a thousand different sci-fi serials resumed.
Wise up!
Status: Wounds: 6/7
Minor Wound - Battered Shoulder
The spiritual beast’s offensive charge has left your shoulder lightly battered, making your right hand somewhat tender under certain circumstances. When using your full strength (e.g melee attacks, pushing objects, etc), there is a 30% chance that your STR score is counted as one rank lower.
Dog Team Alpha 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
This battle was over, the hound had realized it the moment the Archer had avoided his attack with a simple side-step. Even as he bounded around to face his opponent once more, he could already hear the telltale sounds of a bowstring being drawn. Indeed, by the time it had set its eyes on its opponent once more, the arrow had already been let loose and was now planting squarely upon its upper chest.
The hound however made no whine of pain or other such noise, even as its very being began to fade. Rather it simply glared at the one that had struck it down, engraving the very sight of him into his eyes, for all the good it would do him now, before finally disappearing as its brothers had.
Dog Team Bravo 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
The hound heard the same strange sound as before and was struck again by some sort of unknown force, however unlike before where it had no visible effect on the creature, now it caused it to cry out in pain. Clearly whatever modifications Caster had applied to the device had worked as even now the hounds tail and limbs were beginning to fade.
The hound let out painstaking pants, clearly aware of its imminent defeat, however even still it refused to give up. Rather it began to make one last charge at the one who had dealt the finishing blow, determined even now to fight till the bitter end. It leapt at the woman, it wouldn't take much more for it get in one final blow. Unfortunately just as it was about to make contact, the last of its being had faded.
And thus there was silence as the last of the hounds left this world.
Rider of White 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
"It is done." Rider muttered as he let out a sigh, clearly disappointed in how things had turned out, yet at the same time proud of how his loyal companions had handled themselves on the battlefield. True, they may not have claimed victory this night, but they came close against the Archer whilst at the same time intercepting and delaying his reinforcements. Had it simply been a matter of dealing with a single servant this night, there was no doubt that they would have been the victors, alas such was not the circumstances they found themselves.
Thus, though they had lost, Rider could not help but feel honored this night by the dedication and loyalty his long-time companions had shown to his cause.
Last edited by Zagrin; April 27th, 2018 at 06:00 PM.
Gendou Matou 16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Well, it ended just as I expected.
Gendou clicked the lighter as he walked down the street, littered with both the occasional piece of garbage and the drunken sod here and there. By this point he was far enough from the battlefield to not worry about any potential jumps from the river, not that he would miss them with his vision with how... apparent they made their status as masters. There was no doubt in regards to their allegiance, the challenge by the man dispelled any possibility of that even being a possibility. If it had been one of them or if he had deemed it necessary to not restrict Rider, this whole night may have ended differently but that was not the choice he had made. He let out a sigh as he rested his legs, they had lost in regards to the leyline but one could argue that the ending had already been set in stone with Gendou's directions.
A shame, a real shame.
They had failed to deal a blow to Erika, a fact that Gendou couldn't decide on whether he was happy or sad about. She was a friend but an enemy. It was a situation with such a contradictory nature, one he hadn't accounted for. Not that he could, considering the girl had kept her nature as a magus a secret... something he was guilty of as well. Blessing or Curse, it was something he would have to live with.
Times like these, the realization that a friend is an enemy and a close encounter with a swordsman with a bow or a bowman with a sword, required a smoke.
But they did well and for that much, they deserve a reward of some sort. As terrible as the modern world, I'm sure there's something I can find for 'em.
Pulling out the last cigarette he had brought with him, the lighter clicked a few times in his hands as the sparks turned into a small flame.
Quite the situation we got ourselves into though, huh? Not much we can do now but at least I can watch to see what tricks they'll use on that whirlpool.
Of course, even if the fight had ended that didn't necessary mean that there wasn't more information to get out of tonight.
Magical in nature and not a pleasant swim. Doesn't seem they brought diving equipment or a suitable vessel for their little swim out to sea so I gotta wonder what trick they got ready. The Thames is probably the most disgusting river I've had the displeasure of coming across so if they're planning to go head first into that polluted hell, hope they don't catch anything too bad.
Even with the sarcasm, he wasn't wrong. The Whirlpool wasn't called that simply because someone liked the name, it was a torrent of magical energy that caused the water itself to twist and churn and create what the name implied. Now if those two could pull off their little night swim without trouble, it wouldn't be without a bit of magic or toys. While he had all the tools necessary, whether Erika and Muscles had a clue what they had gotten themselves into was another question altogether.
The end of the cigarette quickly turned to ash as the thought crossed his mind, breathing deeply in the toxic fumes.
Of course, there's also the matter of where they go after that.
Before blowing them out, the taste lingering in his mouth.
Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
Caster gave a satisfied series of nods as Euterpe worked this time, patting the device affectionately for working according to specifications. Better still, it had clearly landed a decisive blow - not that the hound was willing to go quietly. Even while it was panting so painfully, in spite of the wounds the gun's effects had inflicted, it charged at her once again.
She might have flinched. She should have hopped backwards, secure in the knowledge her victory was won.
The long breath the girl let out was soft, almost too soft to hear. She blinked once - her goggle lens flicking rapidly back and forth at the beast, taking in details. Size. Force. Speed. Likely weight. Rate of dissipation. A few other noteworthy variables. Her eye opened again, confident in her conclusion.
The tall servant stood motionless as the beast bounded at her with all of its remaining strength and speed. She closed her eyes right before it was upon her - the last embers of its being fading right before it made contact - and let the breeze from its near impact wash over her face, carrying with it the scent of nature, of animals, and of a proud hunting beast's last moments.
A small breath inwards, indulging in a moment of foolish reminiscence.
The smile she gave was tiny, wistful, and brief. "I really do wish that hadn't been necessary," she murmured softly, opening her eyes again slowly. After a moment, she nodded to herself, and looked back up at the containers with a bright smile. "Be right up!"
She returned Euterpe to her pocket, vanishing for a moment as she made her way up to the top in spirit form.
Last edited by Sunny; April 28th, 2018 at 07:34 PM.
Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)
Michael sorely wished to relax, to let the tension to drain from his body as he spied the spectral hounds evaporating near-simultaneously from Archer and Caster's attacks.
He could not. The encounter had stopped as suddenly as it had started, but the night's battle would not end so soon. In a sense, it had merely begun. Michael couldn't afford to drop his guard, now more than ever. The safety he saw might as well have been an illusion.
Archer. We are clear. If you are as well, then regroup with us. And, if the abilities of your bird call extend that far, get some vision on this maze. The last thing we need is more hounds appearing out of the darkness.
Michael bent one knee and opened his metal case again. He withdrew a bulkier item this time: a plastic box with a red cross in a white circle clearly emblazoned across the top. After laying down his untouched walking stick, he popped the box open and rolled back the torn sleeve on his left hand, exposing the gashes on his forearm. They looked worse than they were: the enhanced healing afforded to those who had awakened their circuits would certainly set them straight by morning. Until then, though, he needed to take care of the bleeding, disinfect the injuries, and get those pesky stains out of his suit before they dried out and caused even more trouble.
As he ran an alcohol-soaked cotton swab across a bloodied stretch of flesh without so much as a wince, Michael seemed to finally notice that Erika was still there.
Arwyn Cadfael Penrith & Saber 15th of December, 2004 Night (Phase 1-3) Lee Valley Park
“…I apologize for interjecting, but…if I was to assert that I was in fact both a murderer and a lunatic, as you say…would the all of you be so kind as to return the way from which you had come?”
“I'm sorry, this was rather unfortunate timing…”
The responses to his interjection by the rather anachronistic trio were not quite what Arwyn had expected. Nary a muscle moved on the face of the stern looking maid who had made the initial comment, as her eyes still gazed coldly at Arwyn. If anything, judging by the look in her eyes, your quick intercession seemed to have lowered the glacial maid’s opinion of you even further, if such a thing was even possible.
The woman said nothing, but Arwyn could already sense the tag “rude” being applied to his person in addition to her earlier comments.
The more….easygoing (?) maid on the other hand clearly paid no mind to your comment. In fact, it felt like she hadn’t even listened to your words in the first place. And you weren’t sure that you particularly liked the rather enthusiastic glint in her eyes, either. An ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach told you that she had some horrible misconception over the entire situation. One that you didn’t really want to explore in any fashion if you had any opportunity to do so.
As for the young girl…
“Why?”
“It's because he thinks you are just an ordinary girl on a midnight walk in the woods, little miss.”
The air behind the trio shimmered with a supernatural azure hue. Almost as if a curtain was pulled back on the World, a young man, no older than seventeen or eighteen, appeared in a swirl of magical energy. Countless miniature arcs of electricity momentarily ran over his cerulean form and across his dark cape, before vanishing completely, allowing for the full figure of the supernatural being to be finally revealed.
A Servant.
A smile, full of confidence and anticipation, flickered on Saver’s face.
Immediately the little girl turned over a judgmental finger pointed at the manifested Servant.
“Boo, Saver. Boo! "
"You were meant to stay hidden and watch!”
Ilya let out a deep resigned sigh, something that looked quite out of place on her rather youthful visage.
“Really... Have you never played hide-and-seek before? You are meant to only reveal yourself if you are found, not before.”
Saver let out a rather shy chuckle as he broought up his hand and rubbed his emerald locks in embarrassment.
“Sorry, little miss. It seems like I got caught.”
“That kid seems to have a pretty interesting lass tagging along with him. Didn’t take her much to find me, even with me trying to hide. Although...”
A long spear appeared in Saver’s open hand in a blue flash, accompanied by a sharp, almost whip-like, crackle. A slight whiff of ozone filled the clearing, as Saver gave the spear a casual twirl before resting the large shafted polearm lazily on his shoulder.
“It's not as if I had a lot of talent in that area, to begin with. My personality has always been a bit too straightforward for something like that.”
“Hmph. We were doing this precisely so that you could get better at hiding!”
The white-haired homunculi girl let out a slight puff at Saver’s words, before relenting on her indignation.
“Well, it can’t be helped if you got found out already.”
Instead, the young girl clenched her fist and swung it over her head towards… Arwyn? No, not precisely. It was aimed the elegant-looking woman standing beside him. Or well, in her general area. It wasn't really that accurate, if you were completely honest. It was clearly an encouraging gesture and even sweet in its overall innocence, but…. the immediate implications of such a gesture were anything but lighthearted.
“Show me what you can do! Go get em, Saver!”
A brief look of surprise appeared on the emerald-haired Servant’s face.
“...Eh?”
Clearly, those weren’t the words that Saver had been expecting. However, his shock was only momentary as it quickly washed away by a rather exuberant chuckle. The easygoing grin on the spear-wielding Servant’s face blossomed into a full smile filled with joyful anticipation for the battle to come.
“Hahahaha… Really didn’t see that one coming, considering…”
Saver’s magical energy suddenly exploded, almost as if a switch had been flipped.
With a casual flick of his armored foot, Saver sent the spear twirling into the air, before easily catching it in his right arm. The tip of the massive spear was brought upon the figure of Saber in the distance. While her clothed form might have appeared mundane anyone else on the clearing, the two Servants could easily make out each other's true nature, regardless of the trappings they were wearing. One could not hide a star by simply throwing a couple of layers of polyester, cotton, and denim on it.
“Well then, my apologies if I’m a bit rusty. Its really been quite a while. I hope you don't mind if I play around a bit…”
Saver moved.
The green-haired Servant’s form seemingly seemed to vanish to the naked eye, sending out a cloud of snow and dirt behind him. Violent winds caused by Saver’s movement buffeted the clearing, causing patches of snow to rain down from the swaying and leafless treeline above. In less time than it took one to blink, Saver had crossed the distance between Saber and himself. With a flicker of motion, the long spear was thrust out towards Saber. Though whether one could even call it a thrust anymore was a question all of its own. The speed and power behind it made it far more reminiscent of something akin to a bullet, rather than any kind of normal human attack or motion.
“...to get back in shape!”
Wiseup - Saver
Parameters
STR (Strength) – A END (Endurance) – B AGI (Agility) – B* MGI (Magic) – B* LCK (Luck) – B NP (Noble Phantasm) – A++
Skills
Counter Hero The ultimate test against those that would call themselves “heroes” by a being that can only be counted as a “savior.” It is the fundamental difference between the two that gives birth to this skill.
D: At this rank, one of the physical attributes of an enemy engaged with Saver is reduced by one rank for the duration of the fight. This skill is reduced in effectiveness against opponents that possess the "Anti-Hero" attribute or who possess monstrous characteristics. As Saver's nature as a "savior of mankind" is of a relatively limited scope, his rank in this skill is sub-par compared to the other members of his class.
???? A peculiar ability that seems to enhance Saver's physical attributes. Further information is required to fully elucidate the effects of this skill.
A+: At this rank, the user's AGI and MGI attributes are boosted by a single rank under certain conditions. Other aspects are currently unknown.
Last edited by Mellon; April 29th, 2018 at 02:21 PM.
Erika Kanzaki 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
It’s hard to suppress the feeling of being dead weight.
No, to correct that statement… the sheer extent of my vulnerability was way larger than I thought. If Michael wasn’t relegated to guarding me, would things have turned out differently? It’s hard to say. Being mauled by dogs wasn’t something I particularly expected, but knowing the capabilities of the enemy could be seen as a plus?
It’s hard to spin this in a positive manner…
Your plan?”
Michael’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. The plan. Yes, the plan. Considering I was mulling over it as we got there, it hasn’t changed at all. In fact, I was fairly certain it would work from the outset, so the actual intricacies have not changed. No, what’s changed is the amount of vigilance required.
“Tell Archer to scan the river and deal with anyone who comes by. How… is left up to his discretion, I suppose.” I say the words somewhat callously. The Association… has cleaned up worse messes before, I’m aware. What matters is the practicality of our actions, not their morality.
And so, I suppose, I’ve resigned myself for the worst.
“As for me, I told you already. I’m going swimming.” I adjust the bag I brought. The only thing of note is a towel. Well, several towels. When people think of the Thames, they think of it as something polluted and absolutely abhorrent, but over forty-ish years of biological restoration, the river is in a much better state.
If you can fish in it, you can probably swim in it. Not only that, magi sunk their fingers into the restoration of the Thames as well, fearing damage to they leyline would be done because of all the pollution. Thus, I probably won’t die if I take a dip.
Maybe be a bit sick, but isn’t this entire war cutting into my sick days?
“You really don’t have to worry about something bad happening to me in the water—just that someone comes by during the process.”
Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
Originally Posted by Erika
You really don’t have to worry about something bad happening to me in the water—just that someone comes by during the process.
"It's nice to hear they've been cleaning it up, at least a bit. It was a monstrous soup even in my time, ahaha." A familiar, perky voice giggled. Caster materialized beside her master, lightly touching down on the container as she fully took form. She adjusted her stance, cupping her right elbow in one gloved hand. "Still, what I wouldn't give for one of those nice little skiffs or rowboats. You'd always see teams training on a warm afternoon. Cute uniforms."
She held her left hand to her mouth, coughing softly.
"I hope they still use them. But still, happy to do my part, Erika," she continued brightly. "If someone does come, I'm confident we can handle it, one way or another."
The girl glanced sideways at Michael, thoughtfully. "Thank you and your partner for your trouble, on that note, Mister Michael," she smiled playfully, tilting her body to the side. Her visor lens darted up and down, surreptitiously - Mustn't forget I didn't get to finish. What is a lot?
"Healing's never been my forte, but I probably have enough experience to play a passable nurse if asked nicely."
Last edited by Sunny; April 29th, 2018 at 05:54 PM.
Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)
The last hound faded away with a glare, never once shying away from its inevitable demise. They were not mindless tools carrying out orders, nor were they simple beasts driven by instinctual bloodlust. They had clearly been carrying out the bidding of their master, but on their own judgement, their creativity and independence making them far more dangerous beyond their numbers.
For that, Archer would respect them.
Originally Posted by Master
Archer. We are clear. If you are as well, then regroup with us. And, if the abilities of your bird call extend that far, get some vision on this maze. The last thing we need is more hounds appearing out of the darkness.
“I have just dealt with my batch of the spectral hounds, my apologies for being unable to assist with yours. … Understood, master, I will head over directly. There are…”
Trailing off as he dropped down to collect his sword stuck in the container wall, Archer rapidly flicked through the multiple views from the birds’ eyes.
The riverside civilians were no longer a problem, with one already gone past his sight, and two stumbling a few corners away, well beyond witnessing anything unfortunate.
The servant signature of Rider had faded away earlier, briskly distancing itself, thus naturally, there was no hint of armored knights in the vicinity any more. “…… as far as I can see, there are no signs of hostile beings, or suspicious figures nearby. This labyrinth appears to be secure, in a similar manner.”
Though, considering how he hadn’t been able to sense the other servant before they also sensed him… there was no time for rest until this operation was complete.
He had promised he would “clear out all possible enemies, remove witnesses, and secure the area” before Lady Kanzaki undertakes the dive. This was only the first step, even if he had already been thoroughly battered.
With a slight limp, Archer started hopping over the containers towards his master and their allies, inspecting the path the group will undoubtedly take on the way to the riverside.
It would not do for him to survive the pack of hounds, only to lose the living to boxes of steel crashing down.
Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)
Miss Kanzaki will be taking her swim.
As his fellow Master explained her plan, Michael listened. As he listened, he swabbed his wounds. As he swabbed his wounds, he relayed Erika's words to the still-distant Archer via their mental link. His voice, if it could have been called that, was clipped and business-like, a sharp contrast to his usual mannerisms.
Extend your reach as far as it can go, Archer. Probe every shadow and keep the river clear of prying eyes, with your song if you must. Cover the security cameras, too.
Michael hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes flicking up to Erika's as she spoke. Did she mean everything she said, or was she trying to act tough? His misgivings from earlier had been quashed, but they were by no means gone.
No time to wonder.
As for the three men you mentioned... your song would have put any mundane to sleep before they could witness the spectacle, so no further action needs to be taken. Still... place a tracker on each of them, just to be sure. Watch for suspicious behaviour and collect descriptions in case we should meet again.
Caster arrived, holding one of her arms somewhat gingerly, and threw in her own comments, along with an exceedingly sensible idea.
Oh, and look for a boat we can use-
Then she offered another idea that, while also sensible, struck all traces of thought from Michael's mind and halted his world for a single horrible second.
Originally Posted by Caster
"Healing's never been my forte, but I probably have enough experience to play a passable nurse if asked nicely."
The alcohol swab pressed down, hard. A quarter of a hiss and a single twitch of an eyebrow made it out before Michael could compose himself. He was a man that prided himself on being able to, if not handle, then survive any situation life could throw at him. He'd gotten past impossible odds against fearsome creatures that would tear most magi to shreds.
And yet here he was, paralyzed.
That cheerful expression. That seemingly innocent offer. And worst of all, that word, "nurse", that brought to mind a different, no less placid smile. A smile that had made him wish for death even as it denied it to him, all the while promising only kindness.
Ah, Akechi could be scary sometimes.
Michael cleared his throat and slapped his mind back together.
"Well, Miss Caster, I... I would be much obliged for the help. My own skills couldn't even be called amateur."
Somewhat hesitantly, he set down the swab and scooted back along the top of the container. He raised his eyes to meet Caster's and froze once more upon seeing the bloodied and battered figure that had landed behind her. What had been a sheepish blush became pale concern.
"Oh," Michael whispered. "Never mind me. Please, if you would, see to Archer's injuries instead."
Last edited by Bloble; April 30th, 2018 at 12:48 AM.
Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
Originally Posted by Michael
"Well, Miss Caster, I... I would be much obliged for the help. My own skills couldn't even be called amateur."
Caster's expression didn't change in the slightest, but her goggle lens paused in its incessant scanning to take in those interesting little reactions to her statement, slowing down as the pupil narrowed. No matter how brief, those responses carried with them a wealth of data, all of it very, very amusing. She stifled a giggle, nodding to herself.
Hmm hmm hmm. So I was right. Ahaha, I knew it!
"Nothing wrong with amateurs," Caster smiled back with the same polite cheer. "We have to learn somewhere, of course, and many would no doubt agree that self-experimentation is as good a place to start as any, particularly where there's ah, ample opportunity to test and learn from one's mistakes."
She was in the process of stepping over to retrieve the kit when Michael paused, and both his expression and overall body language changed dramatically. She blinked, tilting her head with a curious noise.
Originally Posted by Michael
"Oh. Never mind me. Please, if you would, see to Archer's injuries instead."
"Hm? Oh," Caster murmured aloud as she turned her body to look in the direction of Michael's frozen stare. It wasn't difficult to see Archer's limp, or the multiple bloody wounds on his leg and arm. "Oh my, yes. Let me see what I can do."
64%. I suppose I'll finish measuring later.
Prioritizing, she quickly took the first aid kit from Michael, tiptoeing with an amused, brief "Thank you!" and turned back to face Archer, the box held behind her back in both hands. Her amusement only seemed to grow with each excited step and hop, as though she was cradling something a surprise, or a present - or just something fun. "Now, Mister Archer, if you don't mind," she beamed, the cheer on her face very out-of-place with the severity of his injuries. "I can't say I've been on the treating end all that often, but I'm quite sure I picked up enough to take good care of your wounds. I'll be altogether gentle, I promise."
"Arm, out~" The girl requested in a singsong voice, sliding herself against the left side of the cloaked servant and gently folding her gloved fingers around Archer's wrist once it was partially extended, the fingertips rubbing over his wrist. She supported the arm from below with the other hand, lifting it to an angle she could easily support with her right shoulder. "There we go. Tell me if it hurts, won't you? And ahaha, don't worry, my gloves are quite sterile." Her voice was sweet as she looked up, giggling.
"Sleeve, up~" She waited for him to roll up the sleeve, opening the box on her lap and beginning to take some of the disinfectants Michael had been using. She washed the area with a a bit of the sterilized water inside, then took an antiseptic wipe and began to delicately treat the wound on his arm. The girl then began to bandage the wound. While she professed to no significant experience, she seemed to have a practiced hand, even in her gloves.
"Arm, down~" she called out, gently removing her shoulder and stepping back to inspect her work with a cupped cheek. "Not that this alone will do much, to be quite honest, but it's more convenient than dripping all over the place, wouldn't you say?"
She paused, tilting her head, her eyes dropping to the calf wound, then back up with a bright smile.
"Now then, pants, off~"
Last edited by Sunny; April 30th, 2018 at 07:31 PM.
Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)
Archer’s last hop, landing behind Caster with a soft thump, was met with his master’s pale face, frozen in concern. What a disappointment I must have been, for him to lose his blind faith. Yet pride is a luxury I cannot afford now.
The thought stung more than any of his injuries tonight, but rather than protesting against his master or claiming to be well, he smiled weakly at both.
Originally Posted by Caster
"I can't say I've been on the treating end all that often, but I'm quite sure I picked up enough to take good care of your wounds."
Archer quirked an eyebrow. If being on the other end frequently had given him insight on how to treat wounds, why, he could have been the best healer of his age. Still, even if she was being optimistic to reassure him… it couldn’t be worse than any attempting to bandage himself.
“Lady Caster, your kindness by itself soothes my wounded heart. But of course, I do not mind at all, having my injuries tended to by such a lovely lady as you is a pleasure.”
Caster’s bouncing movements and cheery smiles were almost infectious. As he nodded and obeyed each command she issued in her sweet tinkling voice, extending his arm, rolling up his ruined left sleeve, and holding still, half of his mind was still on the lookout for what his master had ordered to look for, switching between birds and rearranging them for better views of possible angles he had missed.
His own eyes were fixed on her golden hair, shimmering in the faint lights of the night city, with a hint of bitterness in a corner of his smile. She also had been entirely too lively for a healer attending to a bedridden man, barely saved from imminent death--
Originally Posted by Caster
"Now then, pants, off~"
When Caster ordered him as such, Archer almost nodded and obeyed absently, just as he had been doing so far, before his distracted mind came to a screeching halt. A nervous laugh escaped.
“I must thank you for your gentle handling of my arm, along with complimenting your expertly bandaging of my arm, but if you could possibly excuse me, I would rather prefer not to --” --If I must let go of pride, should I not also dispense of such notions as decorum?
Archer stopped mid-sentence, grimaced, and glanced at the two female members of their group. At least I needn’t expose my buttocks directly.
He had never been so grateful of his braies. Neither had he considered he would be grateful for the ferocious hounds never biting his rear.
“…… I apologize for the unsightly view, this is quite unfit for the eyes of fair damsels.”
Gathering his courage once again, firmly convincing himself this was necessary, Archer pulled down his pants, revealing his long cotton undergarments. Nobody calls me a coward, nobody.
Caster of Blue 16th of December, 2004 East London Night (Phase 1-3)
Originally Posted by Archer
“Lady Caster, your kindness by itself soothes my wounded heart. But of course, I do not mind at all, having my injuries tended to by such a lovely lady as you is a pleasure.”
"Kindness? Like imagination, it's capable of such changes as might appear almost miraculous," Caster responded lightly, looking up with a beaming smile. "But in this case, it's little substitute for proper remedies and a clean bandage, I'm afraid. But lucky for you, all are in adequate supply."
Originally Posted by Archer
“I must thank you for your gentle handling of my arm, along with complimenting your expertly bandaging of my arm, but if you could possibly excuse me, I would rather prefer not to --
“…… I apologize for the unsightly view, this is quite unfit for the eyes of fair damsels.”
Despite being the one to suggest it, Caster seemed a bit surprised when Archer actually followed her instructions. Her cheerful, impish smile froze as her next teasing question got lost somewhere on the way to her lips. For a moment, she was even quiet, still, and unthinking, a rare reaction as she took in the sight before her.
"Oh, quite alright," the girl recovered with a cough, nodding quickly. Looking up at Archer with her blue eye, her visor lens darted down, then up. Another nod. "Quite alright. I never fashioned myself a damsel for very long any way, ahaha."
And I was expected to be one even less, considering... ahaha.
Sitting on her knees, she began her ministrations, her gloves squeezing inspecting the calf and surrounding muscle with quick, clinical familiarity. Caster tilted her head to the side, frowning. "Really, it looks worse than it is, but it's still fairly deep. I can dress it, but you'd best repair that yourself as soon as you can," she explained, setting to the task of washing, disinfecting, and wrapping it as she talked. Her gloves were still uncomfortably cold in the night air, and for no particular reason her fingers lingered for longer and stroked the surrounding muscle more than they had the arm, but she still carried out the task skillfully with no apparent need to concentrate on the motions.
"I'd suggest going easy on it for the time being. I could speed things up, but you're better off recovering completely rather than pushing yourself quickly - nothing is more aggravating than a recurring infirmity, believe me." She let go of his leg, holding up her hand and separating two fingers. A small crackle of electricity arced between the tips as the warmth in her smile gave way to a warning. "Besides, I was never very good at healing properly, I'm afraid."
Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)
The awkward moment of Caster’s quiet stillness stretched on, despite being a short second in reality. Was that supposed to be a joke? The grail sadly did not grant me with knowledge of jokes, be they of this age or other… perhaps I misread her intention, had it been meant to lighten up the atmosphere, rather than actually requiring… in that case should I… or would that…
Still, before Archer could hastily clothe himself, Caster quickly coughed and started inspecting his wounded leg.
The treatment itself, along Caster’s familiarity with the process, returned Archer to his previous state of distracted staring.
Originally Posted by Caster
"I'd suggest going easy on it for the time being. I could speed things up, but you're better off recovering completely rather than pushing yourself quickly - nothing is more aggravating than a recurring infirmity, believe me."
“In life, this would have required a good healer’s hand, but I believe I can manage to recover by myself within a day or two, as one of the advantages of being a spiritual existence. Indeed, being a nuisance to healers is far from ideal.”
With a nod, Archer extended his right arm, as if to offer to pull her up from the ground--
Originally Posted by Caster
"Besides, I was never very good at healing properly, I'm afraid."
-- before suddenly flipping the hand, turning his palm towards her, as he raised his eyes from the sitting Caster to his master.
“Master, there has been some movement in the river, though it is unclear from here. I will immediately head back to investigate. The path from the river to here was clear, it should still be safe enough for you to carry Lady Kanzaki through.”
The rapid words were accompanied with a scrambling motion to slip back into his clothes, which then was followed by rolling up the hem to expose his newly bandaged leg.
“But before I leave…
Lady Caster, I’m afraid this is a situation where ‘pushing myself’ is required, as much as I would have agreed to prioritizing a gradual complete recovery over hasty fixes. If I may ask, might you be able to allow my arm and leg to function somewhat better, nevermind their actual state of damage…?”
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Originally Posted by Erika
