Oh yeah, definitely enjoyed it too.
I hardly go to RP forum at first, but this was posted and sparks a nice instance when I started to lurk on Hermes's QoF for a while, I was thinking "maybe I should join the game like others." Then, both Quest inspire me to start my own and throw away my Sengoku Rance mod idea (who would want to play a mod consist of fanfiction characters?).
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Ah, well, I just meant no stealing Sakura (as if that could be possible). Everybody else is fair game. Well, except maybe Alicia Drake. That would be hard to pull off, honestly, and you really have better things to do.Originally Posted by Rafflesiac
Anyway, Maria's the female protagonist, sure, but this isn't FGO, and Maria's no Mashu. Not that I need to say anything; I know that in the end you'll just go with whatever pulls you the most.
PS. I was really looking forward to Sakura, so I'm glad you found her relatively quickly.
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Parish Church of St. Aloysius de Gonzaga, Cerro Alegre, Valparaíso
Day 02
Evening Phase - 05
Severe Cold (-29 °C/-20 °F)
Snowfall
(BGM)
“Miss Westinghouse.”
The priest, Ricardo Scherer, calls out to the two women a moment before they reach for the closed double doors of the church.
“I am sorry I have no useful information for your search, but I can tell you that you are the third person to come to me for similar reasons in the past month.”
He does not need cueing to go into further detail.
“The first one was the Living Saint.”
Maria’s frown is accentuated by Sakura’s gasp.
“You mean that super-hot lady that keeps appearing in the news?”
The younger woman’s irreverence elicits a slight chuckle from the priest.
“Yes, the Living Saint of the Shingon Tachikawa Eiten School, Kiara Sesshouin.”
“But, what is the Living Saint…?”
“There was a conference on economic, social and cultural rights a couple weeks ago,” answers the priest before Sakura finishes the question.
“She was an invited speaker; that is where we met. That woman…her actions make her worthy of being called a saint, but she is also unbelievably hard to read. I would not play cards with that woman.”
He pauses, as if carefully measuring his words.
“The only thing I could figure out was that she was looking for a specific someone, and for whatever reason hoped the Nazis would lead her to that person.” He shrugs. “In any case, I could not give her any information, and she left after the conference.”
“So she’s not here,” Maria infers, and Sakura nods.
“Yes, I remember I saw her in the news a few days before…all this. She’s involved in the truce talks between Israel and Palestine.”
Father Scherer nods.
“The other person was a man who introduced himself as Marco Ahrens.”
The gruff priest’s expression changes into an unpleasant frown.
“That man…is dangerous. And I don’t mean it just because he carries concealed weapons. I’ve met a number of ‘Nazi hunters’, but that man…”
His eyes when he looks at Maria are stern, clad in fatherly worry.
“Now that I have met you, Miss Westinghouse, I have realized. That man is very similar to you. And that is precisely why you should be careful if you meet him.”
“With that said, I bid you farewell,” then declares the priest, turning his back to the young women. “As I said before, I do not think it healthy or prudent to move from here, so I will strive to bear with these harsh conditions on my own. Magi as you may be, this church nonetheless shall welcome you anytime.”
The priest was not being rude by leaving them alone. This became clear the moment Maria opened the doors, allowing the chilling wind to rush into the holy building. Sakura squeaked, shrinking herself as the severe cold caressed her through her thick clothes.
“Cold…!”
“Phew,” murmurs Maria who can resist the cold but still feels its merciless touch on her skin. “It’s really getting colder.”
She frowns at the sight of Sakura trying to sink her head into her clothes.
“You can stay here if you want. Or hurry back to the house.”
“N-no. I can take it.” Sakura plants her hands on her hips, but with the bottom part of her face hidden, she just looks childish. “I, I live in Finland, you know?”
“And do you make it a habit of walking outdoors at minus fuck degrees?”
“…no.”
Maria rolls her eyes when Sakura inches closer to her.
“…just don’t push yourself.”
Together, the two women step back into the dire outdoors. They are not surprised to find the encirclement of undead waiting for them, their even, unchanging expressions the telltale of their unholy existence. They are also not surprised when the wall of the dead parts again, this time wordlessly extoling them to leave. So, they do just that.
“So, what’s your deal, zombies?” Maria speaks in a carefree manner, making her way past the unliving without a care in the world.
That is when the unexpected comes.
“WAtcH Out FOr RiDER aNd LANCeR.”
The broken, impossible voice of a person without control of its acts using frozen vocal chords.
Of course, Maria’s reaction is jumping away from the hundred undead. Sakura was considerably slower, but she is given some leeway due to wearing bulky clothes and not being a Servant. The zombies merely acknowledge that the women have made it through and close lines again, becoming an unliving fence between the church and anybody aiming for it.
“Damn it, if you wanna talk, then come out and talk!”
Maria’s shouts are not heeded. The undead watch, unmoving. Only the wind replies, its usual deadly whisper. Sakura shudders, and Maria growls at nothing and nobody.
“Let’s get out of here. Gotta find this Fiore.”
They take for the Costa Mirador building, a hundred pairs of eyes following their disappearing backs.
*** ***
(BGM)
The fresh scent of grass.
It is cool. The perfect weather. Truly, life is good.
The rustling leaves are a lullaby, and the rushing waters mere steps away are white noise. This place was made for lazy people like me to settle down and sleep. But sleeping would be rude.
“Javier.”
“Hey there, ■■■■■.”
Hmm? Did something just happen?
She sits down by my side, as always. As always, she carries with herself a sweet aroma that makes my body warm…
…I should…that should mean something to me, right?
“What’s on your mind?”
Strangely, those words make me stop thinking. Really, this is my place to relax. This is the place where everything is calm and peaceful. My life is as simple a child’s life can be, and this is the place where it is at its simplest.
A beam of sunlight strikes my face, and I bring my small hand up to protect my sight…or I try, but only my left hand obeys my brain’s command.
Small…my hands…well, yeah, of course. I am a child, after all. But what’s with my right arm, anyway? It’s…warm?
“You really messed up this time, Javier. You won’t have a convenient savior every single time.”
What…?
“Haven’t you learned anything? Always boldly moving forward, acting like you can do anything and everything, like you need nothing and nobody else, until you mess up and some good Samaritan takes care of you. There is a difference between not caring about pointless things and being blind to the world around you, you know?”
The face that looks down at me is completely neutral, even like a smooth stone. The voice that scolds—scolds?—me sounds not angry, just despondent.
“You were away several years. How many people pulled you out of a tough spot in that time? And when they did, did you bother looking back, or just put them behind you like you do every single person in your life?”
What…is she talking about?
“When was the last time you called your parents? Do you even know if your parents are still alive?”
What…is she talking about? Mom should be working in front of the computer like she does every day. Dad won’t arrive home until the evening…
“A part of me wanted to hate you. You were always so…carefree,” continues my friend as she allows herself to fall flat on the grass next to me.
“Me, those children, everybody there was bound to the blood. To ‘family’.”
Why…does that word sound so vile coming from her beautiful lips?
“Who we were, what we did, how we acted; everything was decided for us. Only you were different. Only you were allowed to do as you pleased, to be…just…you.”
Why…am I not talking back? Why am I just laying here and listening?
“I wanted to hate you for that. My mother wanted me to hate you for that. I should’ve hated you, like I did everybody else. But I couldn’t.”
It is only now that I become awfully aware of how close we are. If I turn my face towards here, there would be only a hand’s length between our noses.
…did…did she always get this close? I…I don’t think so…I don’t remember, it was so long ago…so long? B-But, we just met yesterday, like we do every day…right?
“I couldn’t hate you, Javier,” she repeats. She has brought her voice down almost to a whisper; everything that comes from her is sweetness that sends pleasant electricity to the tips of my toes. Is that normal?
“Because you were free to do anything and be anyone, and you chose to be with me, and be my friend.”
I feel her face. I feel her, smothering herself in my hair.
“That’s why you don’t have to worry. For as long as I have life, I will be on your side.”
A dainty, shameless finger flicks the tip of my nose.
“Even if you are an ungrateful prick.”
“Even if I have to defy a goddess.”
“Even if you don’t even remember my name.”
“Even if I have to become a true demon.”
“Even if you choose to turn your back to me every time I help you.”
“Even if choosing this path leads me straight to hell.”
“I will be your ally every single time, because you were my ally that one time it mattered.”
I can see her face. She has pulled herself over me. She leans over me, the length of her arms the only thing separating us. She looks down, her inexpressive eyes shedding vacuous tears.
I look up at her…I know who she is…
…my fairy…my fairy of the forest, my friend, my…
“I…I don’t remember…”
“Doesn’t matter,” she says, but the tears speak different words. “It wouldn’t change anything.”
It matters to me!
It, it should matter to me!
I…I just want to remember you…
“Javier, you have lived too long looking at nothing other than yourself. It’s about time you start paying attention to the world you live in.”
She brings down her face, and I feel my face heating up. Although, perhaps it is the strange heat in my right arm flowing into the rest of my body, I’m really not sure.
When her forehead rests on my own, something stirs in the depths of my chest. It…doesn’t feel entirely mine.
“Face the present. Face the past. Face the world. Only then you can face yourself, and what you truly are. Hmm, maybe then you’ll even remember my name.”
At least, her face shows emotion. She laughs, and her laughter is moist grass and the cold water of the stream and the aroma of the flowers in spring and the taste of my mother’s cooking.
She laughs, and her laughter is my childhood.
“Now, I sure would rather not do it like this, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. Pucker up, Javier.”
I am kissed.
My first kiss, all over again. My first, becauseI am a childall my previous kisses have been washed away by this one.
I am kissed, and my brain explodes in pristine white.
*** ***
Drake Family Residence
Temperate (13 °C/55 °F; Indoors)
(BGM)
I wake up, startled. My heart is beating fast, my body is strangely warm, as if just out of a bout of exercise. I wake up with the lingering feeling that there is a reason for me to wake up. That something happened, and there is something to pay attention to.
First thing first, I assess the situation.
I am alone.
This is…the same bedroom as before. I am still in Mister Drake’s house. It is…warm. It is not just my body that is warm; I already noticed the Jade Lanterns on the corners of the room. It makes me not want to leave this room ever again—
My heart aches. That psychosomatic tinge of pain that comes when you know you’ve done something wrong. What’s going on? What happened—
Right. Mister Drake’s workshop. His wife, trapped in ice. My attempt at freeing her, and…
My arm.
It’s completely fine.
To be honest, it’s been a while since the last time I felt this…well-rested. Well-rested, yet restless. Almost like a caffeine high. Gotta do something, anything.Character Status
Let’s find the others.
I stand before the door when I remember that I still lack suitable clothing for the weather. So, I take one of those oil lamp-like magic items. They are too heavy to be lugging around all the time, but at the very least while inside this house it should be fine. I kinda feel like an Olympic athlete holding the torch.
I open the bedroom door, and the first thing I see is the unmoving figure of the man of the house, sprawled on the floor.
Well, shit.
Fortunately, Mister Drake is not wounded, just unconscious, and I have confidence in my strength, so it’s not too difficult to make him take my place on the bed. Now, I cannot confidently claim he is not in danger; there could be internal damage I am not aware of. There seems to be a swollen spot on the back of his head; was he knocked out with a single blow? That could result in brain damage if he is out of luck.
There is no trace of Maria or Sakura, nor clue to their whereabouts. A shame, because I know how to break the ice prison now, and I need Maria’s help for that.
So, what should I do? This whole expedition began this morning because I was hoping to reach Falabella and raid it for clothes. We then got distracted by Sakura, and then zombies, and then Sakura knocked me out—which I still think was really dumb from her part, but whatever.
I hope Mister Drake wakes up soon. I want one of these Jade Lantern thingies, but I didn’t resort to petty thievery even at my lowest moments, so I’m not gonna start now. Besides, stealing is something you do only when you know you can get away with it.
Center your thoughts, Javier Lucero. This is the second time you’ve been miraculously healed. These things don’t happen because I’m such a swell guy; sooner or later I’ll have to make up for it. Hell, the fact that I’ve needed miraculous healing twice in as many days is already an issue.
And I gotta clear my eyes, what the hell, why are they so swollen…was I crying while I was unconscious? Did I have a bad dream or something?
I…don’t remember.
Choice Time
*** ***
Alemania Avenue
Severe Cold (-29 °C/-20 °F)
Snowfall
Eight hours of Independent Action remaining.
If Errázuriz Avenue is the city’s main thoroughfare hugging the coast line, Alemania Avenue (Germany Avenue) is the main uphill vehicular corridor. It is like a great serpent, sinuously zigzagging from hill to hill. Maria and Sakura hurry along this avenue, for once devoid of traffic, their steps a slow struggle in the constantly falling snow. Or rather, it is Sakura who struggles, her legs sinking in the white carpet again and again as she trudges along. Maria is quietly impressed by the older woman’s superlative fitness; her ordinary, pre-Servant self would have been panting in exhaustion by this point, and she did not consider herself particular lacking in stamina.
Their destination, Costa Mirador Building, also stands on Alemania Avenue. They could simply trudge along the main thoroughfare and effortlessly reach it. However, there is a reason Father Scherer described it as “sticking out like a sore spot”. In Valparaiso, you find less and less buildings the further uphill you go, as the historical and commercial areas are replaced with residential neighborhoods and humbler, single-story homes.
“We’re way too exposed here,” is the common thought in the minds of the two.
“Miss Maria!”
“Aye aye,” manages to reply to pseudo-Servant just before Sakura jumps off the roadside barrier. She fears not the height of the sheer cliff, for Maria is orders of magnitude faster, and catches Sakura before her body hits the ground and with time to spare. Still holding Sakura in a princess carry, Maria takes to the labyrinthine, narrow streetways of Valparaiso’s hillside suburbia, avoiding the sinuous path of Alemania Avenue to instead close in on the landmark white building in as straight a line as possible.
“I could get used to this, ufufu~”
“Ah, I just realized I can’t wield my sword and carry you at the same time. Guess I hafta use you as a blunt weapon.”
“I’ll be good.”
Of course, no longer limited by Sakura’s pace, Maria displays the superhuman prowess of a Servant, traveling unimpeded by the thick snow. She is not even faster because she remains wary of a sniping attack.
“Miss Maria?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you lie to Father Scherer? About Mister Javier.”
“Ah, so you were listening.”
“You could tell?”
“Superior Servant senses. And if I had to guess, I’d say he knew too.”
“Really.”
“Hnn.”
Maria holds her words for a while. They suddenly enter a forested area, a small green lung for the city. Of course, with the advent of the sheer cold, the leaves froze and fell to be buried by snow. They stand in a field of barren, dead flora. Barren trees do not make as good a cover as buildings, so Maria drops her pace to a fast walk. In the distance, she can see a cliff face; they dropped earlier, so now they will have to climb—well, she is a Servant, so she can just use her bullshit physical prowess and run up the cliff like she did to get to the cemetery.
“Telling him the truth, what would that achieve? The guy can’t help Javier; heck, he can’t even move from that church, so he’d just worry himself to a heart attack or something. We got what we needed from him, so let’s find this Fiore chick and get Javier fixed up.”
“But, what if Miss Forvedge is also trapped in ice? We forgot to ask about, um, the person Mister Drake mentioned.”
“Rosa something? Yeah, never really planned on asking about her,” Maria admits. “It’s not like we planned on splitting up or something. Better focus on the reliable info than look for some random local healer. If Fiore’s frozen, meh, we’ll deal with that if it’s the case. Somehow.”
“But, if Ms. Rosa is a magus, then she is definitely not frozen—”
“Only if our guess is right,” points out the younger woman. “Besides, that’s no guarantee of anything. For all we know she’s already zombie food—aw, fuck!”
Sakura shrieks at the sudden inertial forces acting when Maria abruptly jumps back and away from the cliff face. She does not complain when Maria quickly sets her back on her own two feet.
“What is it?”
Maria clicks her tongue and calls upon her weapon.
“Servant. There’s a Servant ahead of us.”
(BGM stop)
To Sakura’s credit, her face promptly projected the significance of that statement. She jumped a step behind and to the left of Maria, gloved fists brought up close to her face like a practiced combatant.
“Can we avoid them?” she asked, and realized the stupidity of that question the moment it escaped her lips.
“If I know they are there, they know I am here.” Maria shots a quick glance at her ally. “This is where we split. Find a way around and make it to that building. I’ll catch up to you later.”
“Wait, what are you going to—” This time, the awareness of the question’s pointlessness stopped Sakura’s voice.
“I’m a Servant. There’s another Servant over there. What do you think I’m gonna do?”
“But—!” Sakura can say no more before Maria sprints forward to run up the cliff face. Or rather, she dares not speak any further. Completing that sentence within earshot of Maria could prove dangerous in these circumstances. So, Sakura whispers only to herself.
“But, you are not really a Servant.”
Special Choice!*** ***
Bismarck Square
Severe Cold (-29 °C/-20 °F)
Snowfall
Upon reaching the top of the cliff, Maria finds a scene resembling one she had seen in Valparaiso’s tourist guides.
Of course, everything is frozen and coated in frost and snow. The trees are dead and leafless; the small amphitheater cannot be distinguished as the ground has been leveled by the carpet of white. Also, a goddamn rocket is flying towards her.
Evasion is effortless, of course. She catches sight of the Nazi soldiers standing on the ceiling of a large two-story building at the edge of the plaza—if she had to take a guess, she’d say a school. One of them is on one knee, reloading a tubular weapon she’d say resembles the Raketenpanzerbüchse 54: an 88-mm anti-tank rocket launcher. The others are already aiming at her with their assault rifles, but the figure standing in the center of the square raises a hand in a halting gesture before taking the first step forward in her direction.
(BGM)
Ignoring the increasing beating of her heart, Maria centers her eyes on his weapon. It is a large polearm; thick, big, heavy—the kind of weapon Maria can only call impractical. However, the man in front of her is a Servant. If that is the weapon he has chosen, she can only assume he is a master in its use. But it is truly the socket that makes it a strange weapon. Instead of a simple, tubular socket, it is oddly swollen, shaped like a somewhat flattened spinning top. It is large enough Maria can conclude this man’s spear is a terrifying blunt weapon as much as it is a tool for piercing.Lancer of the Black Sun
“I take you are Servant Saber,” the man finally speaks when they are some eight yards away from each other.
I’m not even gonna try.
“Meh, I guess,” she says lamely, carelessly waving her weapon around. “I mean, I’ve got the sword—ah.”
Time freezes for Maria Westinghouse.
Slowly, her head turns downwards, to look at her trembling hand.
The hand that did not hold to the sword with enough strength.
The hand that let go of the sword now resting on the snow three yards away.
Move.
The tip of a spear caresses her left cheek, drawing a line of open skin. Maria jumps and rolls, grabbing the fallen blade in the process. The other Servant has not moved a step, the great spear he threw at her having disappeared and reappeared in his hand.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the fuck was that, Maria!? You scared!? You fucking scared!?
However, no amount of internal berating can switch a person from nervous to calm. The Servant of the Spear, unbothered by the missed opportunity, turns his body to face Maria in her new position.
“As you can guess, I am Servant Lancer. I bear no ill will towards you, but I must bring you death at my Master’s command.”
Spinning his massively heavy spear in his hands, Lancer’s stone-cold expression quickly relaxes as he assumes a proper combat stance. As he spreads his legs and lowers his center of gravity, Maria is hit with the fact that this Servant in front of her is just like Archer. This is not some bullshit Nazi officer-turned-Servant she can effortlessly look down on like the piece of human waste he is.
This is a real legend, manifested into this frozen city.
It won’t be like Archer’s distant, almost impersonal barrages. It will be an authentic clash of weapons, face-to-face, mano-a-mano.
She, Maria Westinghouse, is about to fight a Heroic Spirit.
And that’s terrifying.
“Now that introductions are behind us,” says the smirking Servant. “Let’s try our best at killing each other, fair lady.”
Danger! Servant Battle!
Last edited by Daneel Rush; January 11th, 2019 at 02:47 PM.
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Javier: Stay and Rest:
Sakura: Do only partially as I was told
Maria: Arts
Javier: Stay and Rest
Sakura: Partially Obey
Maria: Arts
Last edited by SleepMode; September 25th, 2018 at 04:30 PM. Reason: Tiebreak
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
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Javier: Stay and Rest:
Sakura: Do only partially as I was told
Maria: BASTA
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Well shit, to think I sank an opportunity to gain points on the Devoted Childhood Friend route. I'm deeply ashamed. I wonder if the fairy is also the Maid. And I suppose Marco is the asshole from the Unimart. Also Kiara? Waaaaait a second, Daneel said there were two canon cameos, not three, and we already know that Sakura is one of them. Something's up here. And apparently Rider's Noble Phantasm is complete now? Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's not good. At all.
Javier: 4b
Sakura: 3
Maria: Buster
stay and rest
do partially as told
arts
Just so you know, we have a tie between Buster and Arts right now.
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Change mine to Arts.
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
Stay and Rest - we've been through a lot, need to take a moment
Partially - because come on
Arts - once we have an opening, then we can slam with a Busta brave chain.
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Drake Family Residence, Cerro Concepción, Valparaíso
Day 02
Evening Phase - 06
Temperate (13 °C/55 °F; Indoors)
Severe Cold (-30 °C/-22 °F; Outdoors)
Snowfall
(BGM)Character Status
I check Mister Drake’s unconscious body on more time. Both his pulse and breathing seem stable, so it does not seem like he is in any danger. I feel there is nothing more I can do in this room—I’m no doctor—, so I just leave him to rest.
Closing the door behind me, I take a good look at the place for the second time. The second floor of Mr. and Mrs. Drake’s residence is, well, normal. Not that I expect a magus’ residence to be, dunno, something out of Harry Potter. There is a major space split between living and dining room. A low wall separates the dining table from the very small kitchen. A door leads to what I guess is the main bedroom, a second one to the bathroom. So, the place where I rested—where Mister Drake is now resting—I take is a guest room…though, I guess at one point it will be turned into a baby room.
I go downstairs. Of course, I am met with the barricade.
The ground floor of this residence holds Mr. Drake’s jewelry shop. With the advent of the sheer cold, apparently both the door and the great glass window broke, rendering the building open for intrusion. Wary of the roaming undead, Sakura moved everything she could to block the one available chokepoint: the stairs. It makes entering and leaving the Drake residence a hassle, but it’s better than the alternative, that’s for sure.
It takes a few minutes to dismantle the barricade, move to the other side, and raise it again. I consider leaving it undone while I’m upstairs, but that’s just my laziness speaking. Soon enough, I make it to the workshop.
Naturally, the first thing that catches my attention is the block of ice standing almost mockingly in the middle of the room. Mrs. Drake was frozen mid-step, a hand being raised toward the corner of the room she is looking at—where her husband sits to do his labor.
I let my hand rest on the ice block, even rap it with my knuckles a few times. Of course, nothing happens. Nothing happened when Sakura punched it, either. The “trap” only activated when I used my magecraft on it. So, either it was a response to the use of magic, or it was a response to a threat. It switched targets when Maria attacked it. That means it either recognized a Servant’s magical power as more potent than a human’s, or Maria was simply the greater threat. That’s why we have to try again, this time letting Maria make the first attack.
We need to do this as soon as possible. We have no idea how long Mrs. Drake has left.
Then, I look around. I know this is the place where Mr. Drake practices his magecraft, but it’s impossible for me to tell what makes it “a magus’ workroom”. Then again, I really don’t know what a jeweler’s workshop is supposed to look like, either. Also, from my understanding, Mr. Drake is not a serious practitioner of magecraft, so it is likely he does not do any significant research. Long story short, there are probably no amazing magical secrets lying around in this room.
…magecraft, huh.
Last night (was it really just last night? Damn.), Maria’s explanations focused on some really out-there topics like Holy Grails, Grail Wars and Servants, so we really didn’t talk much about magecraft itself. However, I remember she stated she uses “knot magic”, and she called me an “orthodox theosophist”, which is a rather accurate description of the “foundation” I used to develop my spells: I follow the teachings of Madame Blavatsky almost exclusively, ignoring most of the alterations and additions proposed by later theosophists. Her more controversial opinions notwithstanding, when it comes about the occult she did know what she was talking about, if based only on my own results.
The way Maria described me as a magic user…it’s sorta like a martial arts movie. So, I guess magic users do have “styles” of magecraft, and there must be all sorts of occult foundations that could be used for a “magecraft style”, just like theosophy.
But that makes me wonder: is a “style” really necessary? I mean, I could use magecraft before I discovered theosophy; otherwise I would have never figured out I can do magic in the first place, back when I was twelve—
No!
I winced the moment I’m assaulted by a splitting headache. What…the…
It’s…like…no, I’ve never experienced anything like this before! The fuck is this!?
It’s like, my head is being pulled in every direction! God, it hurts like…agh!Status Update
But, this pain, I still, my senses still work.
Something…footsteps.
Still clutching my aching head with my free hand, I step out of the workshop.
Aw, fucking hell. These guys sure know when to show up. The barricade is closed behind me, so I’m basically trapped with a zombie in a twelve-square-meters room.
Strangely, I’m not afraid or nervous. Perhaps it’s the headache that clouds every other sensation and emotion, but I do not feel in the slightest threatened by this zombie.
So, let’s deal with this before any more show up.
Decision
*** ***
(BGM)
Slowly, the two Servants draw a circle with their footsteps, neither of them taking the first step forward. Maria Westinghouse—Servant Saver—is trying to not pay attention to her heavy breathing, the sweat in her hands or the trembling of her legs. Instead, she grits her teeth, tightens her grip on the slippery pommel until it hurts, and plants her feet strongly into the snow with each step.
She wonders why it is so hard this time. It is nothing like fighting Rider. She had no problems there. It is much closer to the Archer experience, in which she can only run like a terrified mouse. But there is no running this time, because her enemy stands right in front of her.
A Servant.
A Heroic Spirit.
A legend incarnate.
She gulps.
He thrusts.
Behind her, a soldier in Nazi uniform fires a new rocket.
Maria is the fastest.
Her body twists to the right to dodge the spear thrust, and in the same motion she jumps in the same direction, leaving Lancer to do the same in the opposite. The rocket explodes between them, flinging snow everywhere. Maria has just set foot on a new spot when Lancer pierces through the geyser-like upheaval, charging straight at her.
Eyes. Neck. Heart. Liver. Lungs. Crotch.
A succession of thrusts in less than a second.
All are dodged.
Maria jumps to the right a second time. The soldiers on the school (?) ceiling open fire. A moment later, Maria all but crashes on the ceiling amidst the group, and by the time Lancer catches up, half the soldiers are no more.
The heavy polearm meets the long blade, and in spite of the inferior weight, the sword is not pushed back. They separate, and then clash again. And again. And again, over and over, until every individual clash is unrecognizable within the threnody of metal striking metal.
Maria breaks away from Lancer—whether she was pushed and flung backwards or it was Maria herself who leapt back, it will never be known. Lancer presses forward with another charge, but Maria leaps off the ceiling and back to the square. Lancer does not follow, and the two Servants enter a lull in their encounter.
Maria is still trembling. She never stopped trembling and sweating, and there is a painful knot in her stomach. She is panting like she had just completing a marathon, but—
“I’m…faster.”
It was not skill with the sword that stopped Lancer’s attacks. Only sheer reflexes.
It was not technique that parried the heavy blows of the spear. Only raw strength.
Maria can see it now, through the privilege that comes from being her own Master, the chosen of the agent of the Ring of Deterrence.
Maria now knows. That she can overpower him and outpace him.Wise up! (Lancer)
She releases a strong exhalation, as if aiming to release all her nervousness and fear.
“I can do this.”
Servant Battle - Tactical Choice
*** ***
“She can’t do this,” Sakura Edelfelt concluded with a deep ache in her heart.
Making it to the top of the cliff was trivial—it should be obvious to anybody that the citizens of Valparaiso need a means to reach the top of the cliff. Ergo, a staircase is there.
She watches the battle from an almost-cubic-shaped two-story residence in the periphery of the plaza. She is still worried about the remaining soldiers and their automatic weapons, but they are wholly focused on Maria, so she feels it is safe to watch the fight from this spot—
“Yeah, it looks pretty bad, huh.”
Sakura can only bear the chilling feeling gripping her chest. She hates herself from stiffening her body at the voice of the person standing right behind her, but it has been a long time since she was last surprised like this, and an even longer time since she was last as frightened as right now.
The figure, small and lithe, her body entirely wrapped in a dark hooded cloak, kneels to Sakura’s right side, a second witness to the battle of Bismarck Square. Only her face is visible.
“You…” Sakura manages to murmur upon realizing she is not dead yet. “Who are…?”
“Just a wandering fairy.”
Suddenly, she chuckles, perhaps at a joke only she understands.
“Nah, that’s a lie. I’m Assassin.”
Of course, Sakura already knew this. Who else could it be?
The new Servant suddenly frowns.
“Wait. I’m speaking English.” She snorts. “This is so weird. Anyway.”
She gestures towards the battle with her nose of all things. Lancer has leapt off the ceiling, and Maria has charged to meet him as soon as his feet reach the ground.
“You were saying your friend can’t pull it off. I agree, but I want to hear your thoughts.”
Sakura forces herself to assess her situation. The idea of fighting Assassin never crosses her mind—no amount of coaching from Luviagelita has imparted Sakura even half her partner’s arrogance. Furthermore, she finds no reason in antagonizing Assassin: she feels no ill intent from the Servant. Then again, if there is a Servant who can hide their killing intent, it’s got to be Assassin.
However, the fact remains that if Assassin wanted to do her harm, she would already be harmed.
“I…I think she…um, my friend—”
“Maria.”
Sakura’s eyebrow twitches. How long has this Servant been spying on them? Did she follow them from the church? No, maybe even before that…?
“I think…that Maria…can’t match a Servant in combat. She doesn’t fight like a Servant. She fights like a girl with the powers of a Servant.”
“Can’t blame her for that; it is what she is.”
Sakura nods.
“But that’s strange, isn’t it?” continues Assassin. “That she possesses the Servant’s power, but no idea how to use it properly. Well, I guess the circumstances themselves are irregular.”
The Servants keep trading blows in the plaza. The soldiers cannot fire haphazardly and risk targeting Lancer by accident. One of them has retreated, and appears to be operating a bulky, backpack-shaped device.
Sakura and Assassin can both tell: Saver and Lancer are both fighting defensively and restrainedly, albeit perhaps for different reasons. Their attacks are careful and controlled, not nearly as lightning-swift as either could unfold.
“Her attacks are fast and strong. Scary fast and scary strong, even,” admits Assassin. “But she’s almost too easy to read. Even you and I could dodge those attacks.”
“Hnn,” Sakura murmurs, disheartened. “I’d say she is physically superior to Lancer in every way. But that’s all she has.”
“Eventually, the superior skill will prevail, right?”
Sakura nods. That is the obvious conclusion.
“Then, why hasn’t Lancer shown that superior skill just yet?”
Sakura knows what Assassin is doing: like a modern-day Socrates, the Servant is guiding Sakura to the correct answers. It feels like she is being looked down on, but there is nothing Sakura can do about that. If anything, the more she can get from and about this Servant, the better.
“Two reasons,” she replies. “One: he is aware that Maria is up to something, so he is being merely cautious. Two: he is purposely stalling for time.”
“Because…?”
“A battle between Servant will naturally draw other Servants,” Sakura concludes. “They may even have the means to contact each other, if they are an allied front like Maria said.”
“Good, good, you get full marks.” Sakura is rewarded with a pure smile. “Good. Javier needs allies who can teach him these things.”
She then nose-points at the soldiers on the roof.
“Those guys can’t talk, but they can send some sort of signal to Rider, don’t know the details. Anyway, it’s likely Rider already knows what’s happening.” She clicks her tongue several times. “It looks like he still needs one more day to complete his Noble Phantasm, but he’s got plenty of other weird weapons. We’ll probably see at least one of those very soon.”
At this point, Assassin’s apparently-easygoing expression becomes truly serious and grave.
“If Rider knows, that means Archer also knows. And Archer’s a huge pain in the butt.”
Sakura grimaces.
“Things are bad.”
“It gets worse.”
Assassin again twitches her nose towards the square, where Lancer has taken the offensive one more time. Maria works her reflexes to keep up with the rapid succession of thrusts.
“Now, this is just what Caster told me, so you can choose to believe it or not, but it seems that Lancer carries a ‘blessing of the goddess of fates’, whatever that means. It makes him stronger the longer he stays in battle.”
The meaning of that statement doesn’t elude Sakura, who looks at the combating Servants with a new degree of alarm.
“He’s already got her beat in combat skill. If his physical abilities grow to match hers, she’ll be beyond screwed. Even if they don’t, Rider and Archer will make a move any time soon. So!”
Sakura almost jumps on her place when she feels a hand drop on her shoulder, and she freezes in place when she actually takes a look at it. Unlike the beautiful face framed by the dark hood, the hand is utterly inhuman. It is a monstrous hand, more than twice the size of a normal one, with crimson, talon-like fingers, each about as long as Sakura’s forearm.
She gulps.
“This is the last, and most important question, Sakura Edelfelt.”
Assassin leans closer, and Sakura finds herself suddenly overwhelmed by the unmistakable stench of death, of rotting corpses and exposed dead matter. Sakura feels her stomach twist itself upside down, and she desperately forces the clump of vomit rushing up her esophagus to stop in its tracks. She can’t breathe, for that would mean taking in more of that fetidness.
How can this Servant be anything remotely stealthy if she reeks so badly? No, how come she only noticed the stench now? Is that the extent of Assassin’s Presence Concealment?
“Knowing everything we know, and aware of the situation Maria’s in, what are we going to do about it?”
Critical Choice
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1c: Flashbang Fireball followed by Kill 'Em Dead Fireball
Buster: I wanted to do Buster sooner to overwhelm Lancer before reinforcements show up or Maria runs out of battery, but who knows, maybe Lancer would've NP'd.
3: The ideal thing for Maria would be a Buster Brave Chain, but that's not happening. Quick seems foolish since Lancer's unlikely to fuck up, and Arts is a stalemate. So getting Maria out of there is best. Sakura has Imaginary Numbers magecraft, but who knows if she can attack at a distance while remaining effective against a Servant, especially without the Matou trait of Absorption.
Also Assassin confirmed =/= Maid. And I wonder whether she always had the large body and Javier just didn't notice, or if it's something developed; likely the latter given how she mentions becoming a demon.
- - - Updated - - -
Also I screwed up the timing on Rider's NP, that's a boon.
- - - Updated - - -
That being said Buster and 3 are at odds with each other, and there's a solid chance Lancer could use her lack of caution to kill her. I'll stick to my choices though.
Oh dear
Javier: Sthūla-Śarīra. The last zombie dodged a fireball, and setting fire indoors is a bad idea.
Maria: Buster. We have the Parameters to be a little forceful.
Sakura: 3. Lancer and the nazi-zombies must be distracted enough for Maria to escape with her life.
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
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Javier: Sthūla-Śarīra, fireball has never worked, let's try something else.
Maria: BUSTA! We're stronger and faster, finish this up quick or at least force him on the defensive before he tries anything. She might be easier to read but...
Sakura: Distraction time, it'll give Maria what she needs to escape (or land a crit)
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Hmmm... Setting fire indoors is a real danger, but narratively, I feel Javier's certainty means something. Maria's, on the other hand, feels like a set-up for a classic "gotcha!" from Lancer.
I'm going with:
Javier - 1a
Maria - Quick
Sakura - 2
One Lancer Profile Coming up.
Right after I finish making a character for Airen's new game.
Likes attention, shiny objects, and... a ball of yarn?
F/GO Supports
I joined two years too late...
Dammit, I just realized Lancer may be Naram-Sin.
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
Drake Family Residence, Cerro Concepción, ValparaísoQuest Master's Note
Day 02
Evening Phase - 07
Temperate (13 °C/55 °F; Indoors)
Severe Cold (-30 °C/-22 °F; Outdoors)
Snowfall
Character Status
“Sthūla-Śarīra.”
It is more of a reflex than anything else. It is my best spell, which I trained until I could cast in an instant like this.
That’s why I cast the spell faster than I realize it is a mistake.
The heavy Jade Lantern is still in my right hand. It’s not like I can just drop this thing or use it as a weapon; it looks like it would break. If I can only bend my knees and leave it on the snowy floor—
Ha, of course you won’t let me do that, will you, zombie!?
With the benefit of my spell, I am faster than the zombie, but only barely. No time to put down the lantern, the mistake was made, let’s figure out where to go from here.
This zombie…all these undead…let’s work with what we know, and verify a few things.
I…I’m not a violent person. I’ve only been in a fight once—
Twice.
—yet I feel surprisingly calm. Maybe I’ve already dehumanized these walking corpses. Maybe I’ve just accepted that the alternative is death. Maybe it’s both.
The zombie lunges again, and I barely dodge again.
How can it be almost as fast as my body optimized by Sthūla-Śarīra? The cold is a non-issue right now; I’m feeling plenty warm. The floor covered in snow should affects us both equally. The only thing acting in my detriment is the extra weight of the lantern. I definitely haven’t become slower; the zombie is simply that fast.
Because it’s expendable. Because, as an undead, it acts without restraint, without regard for the mechanical limitations of its own body.
Again, he lunges. Again, I barely dodge. This is way too close. This game of cat and mouse in an enclosed space puts me at a disadvantage. Also, I don’t know if others will come.
But I can’t risk going on the offensive until I check—
I dive to the floor on its next lunge, leaving the lantern on the ground as I roll. By the time I’m back on my feet and turning to face it, the zombie is already charging, hands pushed forward as if to close them around my neck.
I punch it in the face, sending him stumbling across the ruined jewelry shop.
So that’s how it is.
I kind of sigh in relief, now that I know for certain that the zombies don’t possess any sort of precognition. If I remember yesterday’s zombie, and the speed at which these zombies can move, precognition should have allowed it to react to that punch. It’s not that it didn’t react quickly enough; this zombie didn’t see that punch coming at all, despite having a reaction time close to my own with Sthūla-Śarīra.
Again, I can’t stop myself from looking around, but of course there are no visible cameras or anything like that.
If the zombie that dodged my fireballs did not have precognition or all-around vision, it means somebody else saw me casting the fireballs and directed the zombie to act.
Rather than zombies, they are automata made out of dead bodies. We are not fighting mindless undead acting on a limited, unliving vestige of intellect. We are fighting a mastermind controlling the actions of these reanimated corpses. A mastermind which can somehow watch our every move.
So, I could test how much punishment I have to deal to this corpse before it stops moving. Or I could just break its neck like Sakura did.
Its neck…that’s right, that zombie stopped when Sakura broke its neck…its spinal cord.
It still uses its brain…? No, the zombie master controls them through their brains?
It stood up. I didn’t follow up on my punch; I guess I’m still wary of any other tricks it might have.
There you have it: it’s not lunging at me again. It’s not like he’s assuming a stance or anything ridiculous like that, but it’s been cautious. It’s expecting my next move. It’s doing things a “mindless zombie” would never do.
This could have been so much easier using fireball to shoot lightning; no way this zombie could have dodged that. Oh well, bare hands it is. Sheesh, I should’ve paid more attention to Sakura’s wrestling moves.
In any case, let’s do this.
I lunge forward, quickly lowering my body to tackle it—
My body’s pushed back in the opposite direction, stumbling away from the zombie, and my face feels like it’s on fire.
A knee kick.
The fucking zombie smashed its knee on my face! Fuck—gah!
Its hands move a second faster, but we achieve the same result. We are choking each other, our hands squeezing the other’s necks. I hear myself grunt and feel myself drool, while the corpse’s expression remains literally frozen. I feel blood trickling down my broken nose, as my mind slowly goes blank.
Stronger…stronger than the zombie…crush it…before I break…
…no way…I can win…unlike me…doesn’t breathe…doesn’t…faint…
…shit…
…no…
…I can’t…not here…I have…
…I have to…
…I want to…!
Critical Choice!
Last edited by Daneel Rush; October 5th, 2018 at 10:26 PM.
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