[Quest] Lost Singularity - Fimbulwinter

[Draconic]

4. Try to convince Sakura to help Maria together.
+6. Also, ask TohsSakura what she knows about what's going on.

[Rafflesiac]

Leave Sakura to go after Maria, but tell her you can talk afterwards.

Also crud, I should've voted to bludgeon the zombie, we still don't have that Hero's Proof yet.

[Draconic]

Chances are we would have gotten a skill gem. Zombies drop those more often than proof of heros in my experience.

[SpoonyViking]

Leave Sakura to go after Maria, but tell her you can talk afterwards.

Agreed.

[Bird of Hermes]

Leave Sakura to go after Maria, but tell her you can talk afterwards.

Also crud, I should've voted to bludgeon the zombie, we still don't have that Hero's Proof yet.

Seconded, anyways we can make time to smash stuff later.

[SleepMode]

Leave Sakura to go after Maria, but tell her you can talk afterwards.

Also crud, I should've voted to bludgeon the zombie, we still don't have that Hero's Proof yet.

+1

[34]

Leave Sakura to go after Maria, but tell her you can talk afterwards.

I have a bad feeling about this Tohsakura, but let's just go with this choice for now
+1

[Draconic]

I have this weird feeling that we're aiming for a Tiger Dojo here?

Fortunately if anyone dies, we have a save point.

[Daneel Rush]

54 Almirante Montt
Day 02
Morning Phase – 06
Severe Cold (-17 °C/1.5 °F)
Snowfall

Character Status

Health: Stable
Sustenance: Stable
Warmth: Poor (Wet clothes) -> Critical

Stamina: Stable

I, too, would like to talk at length with this Sakura. She knows about Servants and Holy Grails, so she might be able to add to Maria’s information. Anything else we can learn about this crazy situation could prove useful in the future.

The staccato of explosions has stopped, but it merely feels like a lull in the midst of madness; the eye of the storm. They call the Servant “Archer”, but are those really arrows he is firing? Every impact feels like a mortar explosion, and I don’t see arrows stuck on the ground, only craters.

Anyway, I have to go. To do exactly what? I don’t know, but I can’t leave Maria alone against this, this frightening thing.

It just, doesn’t feel right anymore.

So, this conversation will have to wait.

“We can talk later if you’d like, but now I have to help Maria.”

Sakura frowns, and I get the annoying feeling I am missing something. But there’s really no time; Archer’s attack has begun again; the sounds of bombardment smashing buildings and concrete can be heard towards the coast.

I turn away from Sakura; I hafta leave this building and find Maria.

“Um, thanks for the help out there. Let’s talk later—”

I’m not quite sure what happened next, but my body is suddenly lurching forward, face on a course collision towards the floor. My heart skips a beat, and my arms stretch forward to catch my fall, but it is a different arm that loops around my neck and catches my chin on the crook of the elbow. I don’t get to react: another hand pushes my neck and head against that crook; the elbows are pushed together, the pressure from both arms squeezing my neck and compressing the carotids; a pair of legs hooks around my own, limiting my movement even as my vision goes hazy and my mind becomes numb.

Fuck…she’s too good…can’t…

“My deepest apologies, Mister Javier,” she whispers in my ear. “But I was not precisely asking.”

Oh, fuck your manners…Saku…

Status Change

Javier is unconscious.

*** ***

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUU—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It has to be pointed out at this point that Maria Westinghouse was not always so prone to swearing. It’s just that she’s the kind of girl who truly lets herself go upon leaving her parents’ nest.

That aside, right now she is in considerable pain. So, she curses and runs like a terrified dog, because the alternative would be to curl down and cry, and in Maria’s words, fuck that shit. She runs, even with arrows the size of swords piercing her left thigh, left buttock, spleen, right arm and right shoulder. She runs, because if she stops she’ll wonder how she’s still alive, and she fears that awareness will make her drop dead on the spot.

She runs away.

She flees.

The bombardment comes from behind. She cannot see the attacker, and even if she turned to face the barrage, she can’t keep up with it. So, she flees, running without thinking, until she sees nothing but frozen ocean ahead of her, and thus remembers that there are directions other than forward, leading to a newfound awareness of cover being a thing.

She puts a long three-story building between herself and the general direction of attack, hoping it will protect her, even while a part of her fears the arrows will just pierce through both brick and her heart unhindered.

Something washes off her body when the barrage comes to a halt. An infimal piece of her mind fears she just wet herself, but that is not the case. As she becomes aware that she is out of Archer’s sight, she just falls on hands and knees and cries.

As soon as the body stops moving, the mind starts working, and she hates it, for the mind only projects unwanted thoughts.

It hurts.

I’m afraid.

I can’t do this.

There is no golden radiance to make her feel almighty, and the facemask no longer feels badass, just stifling.

Her mouth twists and contorts as she flips between panting, sobbing, cursing and clenching her teeth.

There is pain, and fear, and frustration, and fathomless self-hatred, but in the midst of all that, a single voice speaks.

Move.

It might not have been her own voice. It matters not.

Maria Westinghouse stands up.

Then she stumbles.

Then she covers her face to mute her scream when her backside—or rather, the arrows jutting out of it—hit the façade of the Driving School Valparaiso.

Maria Westinghouse has discovered the feeling of metal grinding against bone.

She does not even remember pulling out the arrows; when her mind ceases to be all white she’s again on her hands and knees, looking at her blood taken in by the snow. The arrows that should have been discarded disappeared upon leaving her body, like products of Projection rejected by the World.

Maria feels feeble. She feels the fragility of her life, which could’ve been snuffed by a single of those arrows. It is not her skills that keep her alive, nor is it her luck, for she has neither of those things.

Again, in the midst of her pain, fear, and self-deprecation, a voice speaks.

Move.

Closing her hand around a fistful of blood-soaked snow, Maria grits her teeth and pulls herself up through the pain. There are holes in her body. Snow and wind seeps inside them and chill her from within. She stumbles again, but manages to rest her back on the wall a second time. There are no more arrows sticking to her, so it’s fine this time. Nonetheless, a quiet whine escapes her lips.

It feels like a struggle to just raise her head and look up at the grey sky. Her body, her very human body, pleads her to give up. It makes her question why she is even there, what pulled her away from the home that feels so distant now.

When she starts thinking she might never see her home and her family again, a different setting in her brain kicks into high gear. Demanding more blood and oxygen, both her heart rate and breathing pace rise, and the ache in her body is smothered by an acute headache.

It is better. Sharp pain also sharpens her mind.

It is perhaps for that reason that she catches the sound.

With an obstacle blocking line of sight, Archer has switched to blind-firing in an arc. What began as a rapid-fire barrage has now become carpet bombing.

There is no time to even curse: arrows fall like rain on the street, numbers reaching into the hundreds. Snow and concrete are torn apart and blasted away, and Maria watches this from inside the same building she used as cover, even as the sea-facing side of its structure is torn apart by the indiscriminate attack.

Watching the bombardment pricks her brain in a not-entirely-unfamiliar way. There is something about the overwhelming barrage of projectiles; a pattern she has not recognized even after experiencing it three times, probably because she has been busy getting her butt kicked by it.

But there is no time to dwell on that. Maria knows that, as soon as Archer realizes she has not darted out from either side, the obvious conclusion will be that she is either dead or inside the building.

However, there is another option. Her brain has already reviewed the entire sequence of events from the beginning of Archer’s attack. Even if she was running for her life, her brain captured the path she followed in her desperation. So, she remembers the unique layout of this building.

The wide three-story building is merely the base of a leaner, much taller tower. This was the obstacle that blocked Archer’s sight and forced the switch from targeted barrage to widespread bombardment. And the presence of this obstacle opens a few options to her.

Critical Choice!

Archer’s out to get Maria. Her life may depend on this next move:

1. Dash back the way I came. Return to Javier and devise a plan together.
2. Dash out in the direction opposite from whence I came. No idea what’s over there, but anywhere is better than here.
3. Hurry to the top of the building, and try to catch sight of Archer from a tall spot.
4. Avoid the streets. Make my way uphill by breaking through walls, buildings, and entire blocks, and climb if I have to. If Archer’s at the top of this hill, I could catch them off guard in this way.
5. Write-in.

[SpoonyViking]

Hmmm... 3 feels like suicide, but maybe 1 is too cautious? Maybe we should be a bit more daring?
Frakk it, let's try 4.

[Rafflesiac]

I suspected that Sakura would attack Javier. Wasn't expecting her to be so successful though, RIP. Also I foresee a Dead End coming up, oh joy. 4 is more rational, so I pick 3.

Hurry to the top of the building, and try to catch sight of Archer from a tall spot.

[Rafflesiac]

Oh yeah, can Javier and Maria talk to each other telepathically (obviously not now)? Also no Command Spells come to think of it. Might be because of the botched summoning.

[Bird of Hermes]

Might end up backfiring and getting a dead end. But that said,

3

[SleepMode]

I'm going for the rational choice,

- 4

[Daneel Rush]

We have a tie. I like ties. I like it more when ties are resolved.

[SpoonyViking]

How do we do that? Thunderdome?

[Spartacus]

If we talking about Archer class, aren't getting a sight of him means he get the sight of us too?

So, I go with 4

[Daneel Rush]

Drivers’ School Valparaiso, Melgarejo 59
Day 02
Morning Phase – 07
Severe Cold (-15 °C/5 °F)
Snowfall



The bombardment comes to an end, and the orchestra of explosions gives way to an ominous silence. Snow dust glitters flimsily in the air, mocking in its silvery-white beauty.

Maria Westinghouse dodged this one by escaping into the nearest building, but that won’t work a second time. By placing herself in Archer’s shoes, she understands that this building is the obvious next target. She has to move.

She considers climbing the building, hoping to catch a glimpse of Archer’s sniping location from a tall spot. The Servant of the Bow’s ability to attack from out of sight makes for a good part of their intimidatory factor. The fact that she has no way to fight back is the most unsettling thing of all. However, she changes her mind. Even if her current position can be deduced, the fact remains that, at the moment, she too is out of Archer’s sight.

She has to make the most of it while it lasts.

So, she tears through the building in a straight line. Her sword slices through walls like they’re made of cobwebs, until she finds herself outside on the opposite side. She catches a glimpse of brass letters telling her the building she just tore through is called Nautilus, but by the time her mind has processed that information, she has already crossed the street and broken through the wall of the next building. Inside, she rips through metal shelves and reams of books and folders, as she crosses what she’d guess is some sort of public office.

She catches the sounds of explosions behind her; Archer is barraging the poor, innocent Nautilus building. She wants to smirk at the success of her plan, but her thoughts go to the people inside that building, trapped in coffins of ice and unable to escape the doom Archer is about to bestow upon them. It makes her grit her teeth and curse at her own fear.

She, Maria Westinghouse, is the only one who can oppose them. She is the only one who can stop them. She doesn’t get the privilege of surrendering to fear and pain.

She reminds herself that she has a reason not to give up.

The snow does not slow her. She is a single-person stampede. Maria breaks through and past the Internal Revenue Service and the regional government building in less than fifteen seconds; long before the first pieces of the Nautilus building hit the snowy ground and neighboring structures. If she turned to the right and advanced one block, she would reach the place where she found Javier and the big-boobed girl, but that’s not her plan. Instead, she crashes into the door of the next building before her eyes—a hotel this time—aware that on the other side she’ll find a vertical wall of rock.

Another ten seconds later, she is running upwards, defying all standards of human athleticism and the very force of gravity. Thus far, the very same buildings she has rampaged through have acted as cover from Archer’s hawk-like perception. The rock wall she is “climbing” also keeps her out of sight. However, she does not know what she will find at the top of this wall.

She reaches the top with a mighty leap, ready for anything.

The sudden change in scenery startles her for a second too long.

“Shit!”

A moment later, she throws herself under the roof of the nearest mausoleum.

“Shit!”

She is in a graveyard.

“Shit!”

She is lamenting the lack of tall structures.

“Shit!”

If Archer’s watching from an even higher spot, it will be hard to stay out of sight. However, at this point, she can only push forward. The rampage is over. The time has come for stealth.

She will hate every second of it.

Surrounded by dirty white, by Christian crosses and marble, she begins a slow, cautious slog through this cemetery on the hill. She has to keep herself hunched down, laying low, sometimes as far as fully prone, to exploit every single low wall, monument and tombstone.

The first thing she notices is the complete absence of, well, anything else. The one place where one would expect the undead suffers from a surprising lack of zombies. The other thing she does not see are humans encased in ice; not a single mourner visiting a grave, no grave keepers or anybody else. Trapped in the singularity of ice and snow, the whole city of Valparaiso was wrapped in a mantle of emptiness and cold stillness. Maria’s heart clenched in childish trepidation as this feeling was exacerbated in this garden of the dead.

Maria’s slow advance comes to a stop. She will expose herself too much if she stays in her current path. Carefully raising her head for a better look, she notices the many leafless branches of a great tree on the adjacent passage—an olive, perhaps? —and a mausoleum just before it. The elegant but aged structure has a low ceiling, suggesting that it houses only a single coffin, or that most of its volume extends below ground level. In either case, it makes for decent cover. Therefore, she crawls.

“I’d kill for a cardboard box right now,” she mutters. “then I would be unstoppable.”

It takes her about as much as it took her to reach the cemetery from the Nautilus building to crawl a mere five meters. She is slow, too slow, her heart accelerated at the thought of arrows raining on her prone form at any moment. But, she eventually reaches the corner, and slowly gets back on her feet. She is aware she will be exposed for a moment as she crosses the handful of meters to the mausoleum, but there is no better route. So, she takes the first step of the swiftest dash…until her eyes meet a second pair of eyes.

A still form stares at her own just as still.

Maria skips a beat, but it is only the suddenness of the meeting that startles her. Then, her mind begins to run a mile a second.

Is this meeting a good thing at this precise moment?

A familiar Servant still stares at her, seemingly brought out of her sleep at the base of the tree by Maria’s arrival.



Then she realizes her mistake.

She did not complete her dash.

She is still exposed.

Choice? There is no choice. Therefore, it is the easiest choice.

Maria Westinghouse makes the fastest decision of her lifetime.

Mortar and brick are shattered and dispersed as worthless dust. Gravestones, mausoleums and monuments, some of them centuries old, are blown apart without care or mercy. Like divine punishment, as if a vengeful god had decided to settle an ancient hatred towards the people laid to rest there, the barrage of hundreds of arrows, each as long as a knight’s sword, strikes the cemetery with brutal power. What was once a somewhat abandoned garden of graves disappears in clouds of dust and snow, its solemn, quiet piece slain by countless explosions.

Not a single arrow harms Maria this time.

“Um, sorry ‘bout this,” she says, hoping she sounds apologetical enough. It is the least she can do; even if it was a decision born of sheer desperation, using the Herald as a living shield still leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

It is a little humiliating: she is the one now curled up on the snow, making herself as small as possible while the Herald stands straight and not-quite-proud, more like uncaring of the madness around her. Maria does not quite know how to react at the sight of those large arrows striking and exploding on the Herald’s back without eliciting even a blink from her.

The attack then stops, and that catches Maria off guard, for the previous barrages of arrows had been somewhat longer lasting. The Herald cares not, instead leaning down and extending a hand towards her.

“Are you alright?”

Maria feels like biting her lip. This…monster of a Servant, is either too dense to notice, or just does not care. Maria used her as her shield, and to the Herald it apparently does not mean anything.

“I…I’m fine now,” says Maria in a lame voice while accepting the offered hand. The Herald’s smile is as mild as her voice and overall attitude.

Maria has a chance to think, which is in itself interesting. Standing like this, Archer must be able to see her. Is the Herald’s presence enough of a deterrent?

Well, Maria guesses she would be deterred too if her attacks had no effect.

The Herald turns her back to Maria seemingly to look at the sky.

“How annoying…” she murmurs. It makes Maria blink. Somehow, the words carry a unique weight when coming from the scarred girl.

Maria then, she looks at the base of the tree, where the Herald had been sleeping. Could it be that Archer could not see the Herald until she rose to her feet? Now that she thinks about it…

“Um, did you meet Archer yesterday?”

The words get the Herald’s attention, but the look on her face tells Maria she needs to expand on the question.

“When we met yesterday, remember? You said you were going to, uh, tell Archer to stop.”

Maria could almost see the metaphorical gears slowly turning in the Herald’s single lively eye.

“…uh, right. Right! No, wait!” She nods, but quickly pauses and switches to shaking her head like a child trying too hard. “Nope! Not at all!”

Maria is somewhat bothered that her stare is enough to make this veritable monster look uncomfortable.

Even when she is exclaiming, the Herald’s voice is softer than Maria’s normal voice. Maria would call it the voice of a wallflower-type girl, but she is hard-pressed to describe the Herald as a wallflower.

“Um, I mean! When, when I arrived, he was already gone. I waited for a while in case he tried to go back and attack again, but he did not, so…um.”

Maria nods at that, even if she is inwardly a little disappointed. However, it does seem like Archer is as wary of the Herald as she is, and with good reason, as the latest barrage already proved.

…wait.

“You called Archer a ‘he’. You sure Archer’s a dude?”

“He smells like a man,” says the Herald with strange confidence.

“Smells? What are you, a dog?”

The Herald giggles at Maria’s retort. Her smile also seems a little more honest, and that’s enough to bring a smile to Maria’s own face. Somehow, it’s like all the tension is gone.

As long as this Herald of Fimbulwinter is around, it appears Maria has little to fear from that powerful Archer.

“You’re wounded,” the Herald then points out, her voice carrying a tinge of worry. Her eye tracks every and every single hole left in Maria’s body by the terrible arrows.

“Um, I’m sorry, I can’t…I don’t know…” Maria only figures out the Herald’s thoughts when her words and body language grows even more flustered.

“Ah, ah, don’t worry, don’t worry!” Maria tries to be cheerful in her response. “Saver’s a tough Servant, so these will heal on their own in no time. Um, thanks for caring.”

The Herald looks honestly glad to know Maria does not need urgent healing. With that settled, she looks with disdain at their destroyed surroundings.

“Uuugh, I can’t even sleep peacefully. I haven’t even done anything to them, why’re they attacking me?”

Maria makes sure to stick close to the Herald as she set feet towards the non-destroyed part of the cemetery. Also, she ponders whether to tell the taller girl that Archer probably never intended to attack her.

“I’m not even interested in your fight.” The Herald’s ranting continues. “This isn’t even a Holy Grail War, so there’s no point in me fighting. Hmph, it’s not like I care for something like the Holy Grail in the first place.”

The sight of the Herald stuffing her hands in her pants’ pockets and kicking a piece of exploded mausoleum like a moody brat is quite something.

Of course, Maria did not fail to catch the bomb the other girl dropped just now.

“So, this really isn’t just another of those Grail Wars.”

The Herald, two steps ahead of Maria, shrugs plainly.

“Nobody’s competing for a Grail.”

She pauses for a second, then explains further.

“The Grail that created this frozen world and summoned that Archer is a Grail that already has an owner. This,” she says, her hand gesturing to the frozen Valparaiso around them. “is just a wish fulfilled.”

The Herald’s languid mien somehow grows deeper, as if an invisible burden had been placed on her shoulders.

“I…have no interest in your fighting. I said I wouldn’t take any sides, but…”

The dark-haired girl looks up at the gently falling snow. In the whole mess of that weird cave and Archer’s attack, Maria did not quite notice when the snowstorm eased down.

“What should I do…?” wonders the Herald in a forlorn voice, and Maria somehow can tell the question is not directed to her, but to a person in the Herald’s mind.

Somehow…somehow, Maria understands. The expression on the Herald’s face, the tone of her voice, they are both things she comprehends.

The Herald is lost, just like Maria felt lost that day more than a year before, when she was told of her grandmother’s death.

But they are both looking at the sky, so they see the projectile flying at great speed towards them.

“Watch ou—”

Of course, the arrow is much faster than Maria’s words. The swordswoman does not need to dodge, because the arrow is not aimed at her. The Herald stands unmoving, as uncaring of this arrow as she was of all the others before.

When the arrow impacts her body, the Herald takes a single step back, a high-pitched grunt escaping her lips. Standing two steps behind her and a little to the left, Maria cannot see much until the arrow is pulled out of the other girl’s body by its own weight. The arm-long missile falls on the snow, shattering into worthless motes of magic, and the Herald falls to her knees, whimpering like a wounded animal.

“Shi—you alright!?”

For the first time, Maria cannot read the Herald’s expression. The scarred girl is looking at her, but not really. Her wet eyes are meeting hers, her anguished face is facing hers, but the Herald’s mind is somewhere else. Did the shock of being wounded get to her? The way the dark girl lowers her head and leans further forward as if to hide her rictus of pain feels discouraging to Maria in their current situation.

A small hole on the Herald’s dark clothes marks the spot the arrow penetrated. Compared to the arrows that threatened to pierce her body from side to side, the Herald’s wound was infimal. Nevertheless, the girl shudders, both hands moving towards the wound as if to stop an inexistent blood loss.

The Herald whispers a single word, but Maria is not sure she caught it properly.

In any case, the fact remains Archer shot a single arrow, and proved he can wound the Herald. Whether it is magecraft, a Servant Skill, or even the effect of Noble Phantasm, there is no way to tell, but Maria knows a lot more arrows are soon to follow.

She has to do something, but it is surprisingly the Herald, no longer shuddering in soft-spoken agony, who acts first.

“Eh?” Maria’s lame response when the other girl’s hand closes firmly around her wrist. She looks at that hand, then back at the Herald’s face, whose expression has changed dramatically. The pain remains in her eyes, and the anguish lingers on her expression, but something greater, more powerful, has settled over all that.

“What should I do…?”

Those were her words just moments earlier.

Maria Westinghouse can tell.

That girl has found her answer.

Maria offers no resistance when the Herald pulls her over her shoulder, in a posture similar to a hammer throw. Rather, it happens so fast, and the Herald is so absurdly strong, that the thought of putting up resistance does not have time to cross her mind.

It is only for an instant that their eyes can meet for one last time.

The Herald is still in pain. She is still afraid. But she has found a direction, and to Maria’s eyes, she has never seemed mightier.

“Live.”

A single word is spoken. The Herald allows for no response before throwing Maria with all her strength, sending her flying westwards over the many hills of Valparaiso.

And Maria is not granted time to shout a response before the Herald, and the cemetery around her, disappear in a deluge of explosions.

END OF MORNING PHASE

Critical Choice!

Do you wish to create a Save Point here? (Note: This is a shitty game, so you only get to have one Save Point at a time.)

1. Yes.
2. No.

[Rafflesiac]

No. I've no desire to commit to a split party, even if the current situation is fascinating.

[Bird of Hermes]

You know what? Current situation is fascinating. Yes.