[FF] Grail Works, Ltd.: Fate/Anarchy (Type-Moon/Scion crossover)

[Kieran]

That is a fair and reasonable choice that I think I agree with. There aren't many deities with Time in their portfolio (particularly given how portfolios are exclusive within a pantheon in Faerun), I think only Labelas these days.

I know that Amaunator (Lathander's predecessor) had it, and there was also apparently a deity/elemental primordial named "Grumbar" who did - but it was never common, no. Labelas is the only one explicitly designated as a time god, any longer.

Mystryl had it back in the day, but Mystra does not have it.

*Blinks* Wow - that I did not know. (I came in with 3rd edition, so while I've tried, over the years, to pick up bits of older lore, I'm more familiar with the fiction of that time than the actual game materials.)

So it definitely makes sense that Labelas actually is the one Zelretch interacts with and who has any knowledge of all these shenanigans, apart from what he reveals to the other deities. Of course, that's a pretty heavy responsibility, and necessitates a lot of secrecy, similar to Zelretch's interactions with the Nasuverse and the Works itself.

Which I have tried to make clear in his interactions and machinations thus far.

It does make me wonder how such deities split their focus between continuities, though. Divine levels of cognition are always something that's difficult to imagine, since they can already split their attention many ways and automate things, yet somehow that never seems to translate into a better ability to focus on a single issue, because writers are only human.

There was a scene in . . . I think it was The Trial of Cyric the Mad, where the pantheon had gathered, and Oghma (God of Knowledge, for those unaware) shared his perspective of them with Mystra; he saw them all as students, Mystra as wizards and alchemists, in robes - and Kelemvor, God of the Dead, perceived them all as corpses. Their portfolios influenced the way they saw the world, and only Oghma (and now, Mystra) was really aware of the fact.

It's the closest I can recall to any kind of "divine perspective" being shown - and of course, the deities of Toril have never been portrayed as omniscient, not even Lord Ao.

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 52: Carnage in the Wolfen




Mordred rubs her forehead, as she sits beside her Master.


"Don't worry, Mordred. We're nearly done with the processing,” Tamamo says, calmly. “Mr. Shishigou, it'll be just a few more minutes, and it should be ready for testing. As it is, the body is enough for her to be compatible with, but not quite enough for her to move over, and into."


"And I'm helping, of course." Amaterasu admits with a smile, as she studies over the work carefully.




"Thank you for helping me with learning such things, and the books you wrote on the subject." Tamamo smiles, leaving the 'Mother' unsaid, but implicitly implied, before looking over the screens carefully. "I should really leave for a few minutes, to take care of some personal issues, but when I return, it should be ready for to transfer her mind, soul, and everything else over, without issue. I've also cleared up the issues with compatibility with your bloo line a bit, from what I could see of things."




Mordred smiles at Tamamo as the kitsune leaves the room, then turns to study her Master. "Are you okay, Master? I know I've not been around much, but this place has been so fascinating..." She trails off, with a bit of a blush.



"It's fine, Saber," Kairi answers, smiling, before settling back. "This is giving me back my dream. If that means you get to wander off and see neat things, while I have to wait my turn? That's fine. Anyways, the Lady Scathách over here has been quite entertaining, as has Miss Aozaki."




Mordred laughs, softly. "Thanks, Master. That means a lot."



"Attention, all personnel!" The Scylla's voice echoes through the ship. "This is an alert for all hands to prepare for combat! Five hundred Dragon's-Tooth Warriors have invaded the ship during Jack the Ripper's confrontation with Erik! I repeat, five hundred Dragon's-Tooth Warriors have invaded the ship! Be advised that the Legion of Coal cannot target them at all, reducing combat efficiency, and the mechs can barely target them! Likely similar issues for all other vehicles, as well! Whatever they're doing to avoid target detection, we're having massive issues here. All Servants, please help repel boarders!"




For a moment, silence reigns in the room, before Mordred pulls herself up, her eyes narrowed. "I guess that's my time to shine then, Master!"



Kairi grins. "Be sure to give them hell for me, Saber! Touko, are you going to send your Servant in, as well?"




"I'll stay. They might plan a divide and conquer method for this, somehow. And the way that Scylla worded things..." Scathách trails off. "Something about this seems fishy. How did those Dragon's-Tooth Warriors start evading Erik's machines?"



"A good point, Scathách," Touko admits, smoking a cigarette while thinking. "Mordred, I'd suggest leaving. Scathách will stay behind and guard us. If anything goes wrong, we'll let you know, or warn you somehow."



Mordred nods, then moves through the door. "Lock the door behind me, then!" She calls as she leaves.




As she walks out, no one notices the eyes of the clone in the tank open briefly, before shutting again, while the hair slightly changes color.



“Scylla—can you tell me what it is, exactly that the Dragon's-Tooth Skeletons are doing, or seeming to do?” Mordred asks, as she runs towards the hangars. “For that matter, where’s that Tumbler that was meant for me?”




“Between whatever effects they have on the Legion of Coal are, the hit-and-run tactics they're using, and how hard they are to track down? Not much. The mechs report fog, but that's about all we can get out of them. They're having problems getting into the deeper parts of the ship, for now, but I'm worried that one or more might figure something out we haven't guarded against, Mordred.” The Scylla's voice replies. “Damn, there goes another mech—they're rushing the mechs, too!” Scylla pauses, as though only now realizing that a question had been asked. “…Ah, right—right... Your Tumbler is in the same location as the truck was, and it's been moved so you can access the outer hallways, where the intruders are mostly at.”



“Thanks, Scylla! You're a real pal, you know that?” Mordred shouts, as she runs. “As for the skeletons... I think they're somehow using her fog to hide. Have some of your forces duck, and see if they can't see them in the moment when they’re down, will you?” She paused to inhale, and then continued, “Also, if they can barely be seen, don't let anyone into an armory or anything of that nature, will you? If they might be slightly terrifying with your Legion of Coal's lasers, I dread to think what they'd do with actual explosives!”



“Yeah, no worries on that front—I'm in full and perfect agreement on that. On a different note, EMIYA is nearby; do you want him to join you for this, Mordred?” The Scylla asks, while still working furiously.



“Sounds good—think he'd want to ride on my new car while I drive?” Mordred asks, with a grin.



“Sounds like that could be interesting, as long as you don't send me flying off,” EMIYA remarks with his usual smirk as he appears from around a corner. “Anyways, Erik's my ticket to getting out of my own issues—why would I let his stuff be destroyed so easily?”



Mordred nods with a grin on her face. “Sounds good, then—hey, what are your abilities, specifically? I keep forgetting to get clarification for that...”




“The ability to analyze, and replicate nearly any blade I see in my Reality Marble. Why?” EMIYA asks, studying Mordred carefully.



“That's honestly neat, and tactically useful.” Mordred admits, before narrowing her eyes. “Actually, could you look over my sword real quick? Clarent Blood Arthur isn't working for me; I have a sneaking suspicion as to why, I think you could verify it for me.”




EMIYA stops, and looks at Clarent, carefully. “... I suppose I should help you with this. Hand it over, so I can study it.”



Mordred nods, while they run, as EMIYA focuses. Moments later, EMIYA chuckles softly. “Well, that an interesting issue—you've lost your hatred for your father, hmm? Without that, it's accepting you as a proper wielder, I suppose. And do you recall what Clarent was originally for?”




Mordred blinks, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah—knighting and ceremonies, right?”



EMIYA nods, a smile on his face. “To be honest, even I can't tell what its original ability was, after what the repeated use of Clarent Blood Arthur has done to its legend. You'll have to rediscover that for yourself. Mash might have ideas on how to do that—or perhaps a few days of meditating? I'm sure Erik could rig up a freezing cold waterfall for you to sit under...”




Mordred nods, a frown on her face, as they run through the doorway, arriving in the hangar. The room is a mess, and they can see dozens of Dragon's-Tooth Warriors fighting mecha, slowly bringing mechs down one by one. Scattered piles of bone litter the grounds, with just as many mechanical pieces sown among them as massive war machines fight a slowly losing battle against an army of Jack the Ripper clones.




Mordred slams open the hatch, pulling her body inside, then fires up the engine in one swift movement, as she listens to sirens wailing within the Wolfen's Hangar.



“Oi, Scylla! There's fog around their eyes, and cameras! Bitch is blinding them using fog, but it has to be draining as hell for her, too! And can you get some music in here for me?” Mordred shouts with a grin, as EMIYA jumps onto her brand new Tumbler. On cue, music starts playing inside the tank like car.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6a6su4Do9c (Stardust Speedway Bad Future JP Generations Mix ~ Sonic Generations)



“Oh, hell yes!” Mordred grins as she punches the accelerator, EMIYA holding on with one hand as the Tumbler roars into action, driving ahead and plowing through several wraith-possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors. It's simple for him to Trace a sword, and carve through the foes that fly his direction as they get launched by the bumper up over the vehicle, rather than just getting run over, or sent flying backwards.



As more and more of the Dragon's-Tooth Warriors spot the massive vehicle roaring through them, they start running towards it, doing their best to get close and try to stop it with numbers.



Hoooooooonk!



Their efforts are stymied by a Legion of Coal unit driving through several groups, in a truck. EMIYA nods towards the truck, forming several blades in the air, then launches them in waves at the foes swarming the vehicles.




Mordred continues contributing, opening fire with machine guns hidden within the vehicle, as she looks over weapon selection menus with one eye, and the path in front of her new toy with the other.



Explosions ring through the hangar, as she pulls the oversized tank like car into a tight turn, almost sliding sideways, before she pushes it forwards.

“Where are the bulk of them, Scylla?” She shouts, her eyes narrowed as she watches the road, listening to EMIYA Trace and throw swords, or simply carve into Dragon's-Tooth Warriors as they try to jump on the car. “We've got quite a few in the hangar, here, but I think they're a distraction...”




“They came in when Erik launched the Mecha Fafnir Mark 1,” The Scylla replies. “It's a pretty old unit, to be honest—but they're pretty stymied by the hangar doors being shut, however. I think they planned on tossing half assembled mechs out, and since the doors are shut, they can't.” A pause. “Yeah, that's doing it, Boss! Keep up on that fight down there!”



“He's taking her on SOLO?!” Mordred winces, jerking the wheel, so another wraith-possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warrior gets run over by a tire, rather than hitting the bumper. “Good luck to him on that!”




“It's an old model,” Scylla repeated, “so it's not nearly as durable as the current stuff... But it's the only thing that can fly this high, so I can't blame him one damned bit.”


Mordred winces at the Scylla's words, pulling the Tumbler into a massive drift and sending it skidding along the hangar, even as an option caught her eye.




“Aha, there we are—a roof-mounted micro-missile launcher?! Mordred grins. “Erik gives me ALL the good toys!”


A small turret slides out of the right side of the vehicle's roof, narrowly missing EMIYA's right foot.




“Hey, watch it down—huh,” EMIYA stops in mid-tirade as he notes the effect of Mordred’s action, and then smirks before taunting, “Fire faster, already! I don't want to have to help you more than I am, after all! By the way, you drive exactly like your father does, and that's not a compliment!”




With EMIYA's words like prophecy, Mordred fulfills it, introducing several of the possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors to explosives that shatter their bodies, leaving bones and shrapnel where the possessed foes were.



“Wait, YOU know FATHER?!” Mordred shouts up at EMIYA. “And how the hell would you know Father, anyways?!”



“I'm a modern Counter Guardian, as you might recall,” EMIYA shoots back. “And I was stuck as the poor bastard who summoned your father for a Grail War!”



“‘Poor bastard?!’” Mordred shouts, as she launches the Tumbler towards a transportation tunnel, following the maps in the car's computer system. “The only poor bastard I see is you, to have no manners about being partnered with father!... Wait, a Grail War—when the hell was this?!”


“Yeah, an alternative to this one,” EMIYA shouts back, “At this point in time, I'm still alive; and young, chronologically, unless this timeline's even more fucked than the one I'm from.” He then adjusts himself to pull out his bow and aim down the corridor, shooting at several Dragon's-Tooth Warriors in the tunnels. “Watch the ceilings. I saw a couple crawling around up there, and at the speed we're going...”




“Gotcha—cover my back, will you?” Mordred shouts back, before she swerves the vehicle, dodging several attempts to drop from the ceiling and crash through the windshield.



A few moments pass, as Mordred puts increasingly more work into controlling her new Tumbler, forcing it into more and more elaborate movements in order to dodge: swerves, twists, and even driving with only two tires on the ground at one point.



“Putting that Riding Skill to good use, I see!” EMIYA smirks while riding on top. “Good. We might just win, at this rate...”



“Yeah, I'm working on it, I'm working on it. Scylla, can you tell me if there're any signs of my Master being targeted, or Touko?” Mordred asks, pulling her new toy into a U-Turn to double back and ram into several trying to chase her down.



“We've got no signs so far. Boss's wife has taken some emergency tunnels to the bridge, on our en—” The Scylla starts, before being cut off.


“Scylla, start pulling up the scaffolding sections that aren’t linked anymore,” Erik's voice interjects over the communication systems. “I've been shooting the connectors just as much as at her—pull up sections, so she starts running out of room, will you?”




“No problem, Boss!” The Scylla responds, working furiously. “No signs of them deeper into the ship, though.”


“Erik! How's it going out there? This new ride is FUN!” Mordred grins, running over a couple more victims as she does so. “They seem to be mostly heading towards the mecha hangars, and the transportation tunnels, as far as I've seen—looked like they were trying to throw your mechs out the hangar doors, only to find them shut.”




“Good to hear you like it! Now if this bitch would only hold still long enough for me to get her without long aiming...” Erik snarls over the line. “Fuck, she's fast. Scylla, lock down the emergency access shafts, if you can. I'd rather not have that bitch sneak any in.”



“No problem, Boss—doing so now,” The Scylla states. “Fiore's on the bridge, by the way, so I won't be letting them know more than the basics of the situation right now.”



“Not a problem, not a problem. Any idea of what they're aiming for, Mordred?” Erik asks, focusing.



“Nope,” she admits. “But I suspect they're hunting for either the engines, or perhaps... Scylla, can you check on my Master again? See if anything's going on in there?”

As she asks, the knight swerves again, avoiding more dropping from the ceiling, trying to punch through the windshield or through EMIYA on top. “I'd check, but it's hard to focus with all these Dragon's-Tooth Warriors trying to literally get the drop on us!”




“Damn it, Mordred! Stop swerving so much! I can't take aim with my bow when you keep jerking around like this!” EMIYA shouts from the roof.


“I'm trying to not get an asshole through the windshield, EMIYA!” Mordred shouts back. “Keep up on the ones dropping from the ceiling, damn it!”


A sound of annoyance is EMIYA ‘s only response Mordred moves in more of a straight line.




“Yeah, pulling him into the communications now, Mordred,” The Scylla states.




“So, Touko. What do you want to do while we wait? Talk shop some more? Discuss things with my daughter, while she's up, or—?” Kairi's voice echoes on the communications setup.



“Hey, Master! Are there any signs of trouble in there?” Mordred asks, trying to not swerve as EMIYA snipes at several more attempts to jump onto the roof. “I'm rather busy on my end!”

“Nothing so far—good to hear your voice though,” Kairi admits. “Can you report on what's going on?”




“Jack the Ripper chucked some sort of pot into the same room I lowered my current mech I'm using from,” Erik's voice intrudes, by way of an answer. “This was an older model, but it's the only thing that can move at this height without issues—the Mecha Fafnir MK2 doesn't have the rotary blades in the wings built to compensate for the height and less air, like this Mark 1 does.


“Apparently something happened involving the pot,” he continued, “turning it into five hundred Dragon's-Tooth Warriors... And then she did something that looked like... Lots of ghosts left her body, or something.”




“‘Ghosts?’” Touko repeats, and then pauses in realization. “Or perhaps wraiths...?”




“Looks like Wraiths to me, Miss Touko.” Mordred admits. “Looks as though they possess the skeletons somehow and it's boosts their abilities—giving them weaker copies of her powers.”




“Boss,” The Scylla interrupts. “ETA of fifteen minutes before we can get the gravity systems off, then fully hit orbit. After that, Jack the Ripper will suffocate out there, and we'll be able to deal with the weakened Dragon's-Tooth Warriors with no real issues.”




“Roger that, Scylla,” comes the acknowledgment. “With any luck, I should be able to fight her that long. She hasn't caught on to my plan yet. She's nearly as fast as a certain fucking hedgehog, though...” Erik curses, jerking the controls audibly. “And those knives of hers do pretty serious damage to the hull, too. Even the weaker looking scalpels are putting cuts in the armor, like a hot knife through butter.”




CRASH




The sound of shattering glass echoes through the speakers, leaving Mordred jerking the controls reflexively, before looking around desperately for any broken glass—and the sound of Erik cursing, and doing the same reaches her ears, moments later.



“Oh, FUCK!” Kairi's voice shouts loudly in panic as he reacts to something happening in the room. “What the fuck was that?!”



“Scathách, KILL HER NOW!” Touko's voice rings over the intercom.




“Wha...? Oh no. No, nonononono! I don't want to die like this! I wanted to teach her and Erik more things! I'm so sor—“ Amaterasu's voice is panicked, before it fades out completely.




“Oh me oh my, three ducks in a row,” Jack the Ripper's voice echoes in a singsong throughout the room with Kairi Shishigou, and Touko Aozaki. “Now one's dealt with, and two more to go.” There is a pause just long enough to be deliberate. “Time to ensure you're all not thorns in my side anymore.”




“I'm not going to let you get away with this! MORDRED! BY THE POWER OF MY COMMAND SPELL—!” Kairi's voice echoes, as he focuses.




“Now now,” Jack the Ripper's interrupts him, her voice taunting, “if you want your daughter to live, you're going to re-think that—after all, I possess both her, and her new body, with my Wraiths...It would be such a shame if something happened to her, wouldn't it?”




“You ingenious bitch,” Touko whispers, “you outmaneuvered him.”




“So I did—two precious little bodies, just ripe for my wraiths to possess. And the more damage I take? Why, the more damage my wraiths take. I wonder how long Erik can keep fighting me—and will it be before your daughter bleeds out, hmm?” Jack's dual voices sound smug. “Now, if you both give up your Command Spells, I'll let her live. Otherwise... Well, I'm sure you can just imagine what an Assassin Servant can do to some innocent, horribly hurt little girl.”







Under the Wolfen

Lower Maintenance Scaffolding





Erik snarls, less like a man, and more like a wolf, as he backs off his older model war machine, fans working overtime to keep him up this high. Then he glances at his hand, carefully studying it.




The Command Spells had started to disappear, but a wave of heat from the prototype Cosmoreactor had flooded his hand, and left them glowing and reappearing.



“You know. This is a pretty nasty trick, Jack.” He finally admits, looking up at her again, watching carefully as she slides to a halt, throwing knives and scalpels in hand. “I'll give you credit, though. Your plots have gone a lot better than I thought they would. Did Semiramis link you directly to the Greater Grail, or something?”



His eyes watch, carefully, as she stills, studying Erik, before smiling. “No! Mommy turned out to have dormant Magic Circuits! So activating them finally gave me a prana supply from her!”



Erik narrows his eyes, thinking rapidly, before he nods, with a smirk. “Impressive, I suppose—thus, your little assault. Of course, there's a problem with that too, isn't there? You can't gauge how much you can safely take from your Mother, either, can you?”



Jack stills, her smile fading rapidly, as Erik continues. “Why, I'd imagine that she can't last more than a few minutes longer before you drain her utterly dry, leaving you to disappear! My. Oh. My.”




“THEN I JUST HAVE TO KILL YOU BEFORE THAT HAPPENS, DON'T I?!” Jack screams, as she throws her knives at Erik once more, Erik easily dodging.




“If you want to act like that's going to happen,” Erik shoots back, “to give yourself one last bit of joy before your death? Feel free! Unfortunately, both Reality and Murphy's Law are cruel things indeed, and they don't make exceptions for little girls that want their mother!” He opens up with the machine guns, carefully shooting.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ID_6_64MNhQ (Proteus Ridley 1 ~ Metroid: Samus Returns)




Jack runs, fleeing as machine gun bullets chase her through the scaffolding below the Wolfen, desperately pushing her body to go faster as she does her best to outrun bullets for the most part.



“Why are you firing faster?! You shouldn't be firing this fast!” She screams, as she does her best to dodge machine gun fire introducing lead to her body.



Some shots still hit, though, leaving her slowing down slightly. “And why are those hurting me?! They shouldn't hurt at all!”




Erik chuckles darkly, adjusting the mech, then brings the twin linked laser setup on his Wolf Wing to add all 6 lasers to the firepower being launched at her, doing his best to carve her up, but more importantly, hitting every interlink connecting scaffolding sections together.




“Eh? A new chunk is coming down?” Jack narrows her eyes, and then hurls herself at it, dodging and weaving, before pausing to turn around—and then she stills, at the sight of all the scaffolding she'd been running around on, all retreating into the Wolfen overhead, all at once.




“Oh,” she says in realization, eyes wide. Then they narrow into hellish slits, as her apparent assessment of the situation is dismissed in favor of administering pain. “It’s time for you to die, so Mommy can be happy!”
With those words, fog flares around Jack the Ripper, as she flings herself up towards the ceiling—



“GYAAAAAAAH!”



And then falls down, slamming into the metal scaffolding with a thud.



“Watch the wires linked to those poles holding your platform up!” Erik's voice mocks her. “The stuff keeping your little platform up is also running a pretty strong electricity tap!”




She slowly pulls herself back up, and then flings herself directly onto the bottom of the Wolfen's hull.



“Oh, Jack, Jack, Jack—don't you remember, that I have RADAR?!” With those words, Erik opens fire.




“Not this time!” Jack screams, as she runs along the bottom of the Wolfen, pushing her body to its limit. “This will deal with you, I'm sure of it! MARIA THE RIPPER!”



She lunges, the force of her Noble Phantasm pushing her the rest of the distance, leaving her slamming into the cockpit knives first. One blade smashes into the lower Hoverpod, nicking the armor, while the rest slams into the upper half of the head, slowly carving its way in as she grins.



“Blessed Hydra Venom,” she explains with a smile. “It's going to make YOU be the one that suffers!”



Looking into the hole she's carving in the upper half, as her other hand grips the top of the head, her eyes stare at Erik's, as he glares at her look of almost radiant joy—


Crackle, Hiss




Then, she screams, as she gets a prototype lightsaber blade carving through her left eye, right as Mecha Fafnir MK1 accelerates, slamming her against the Wolfen's bottom armor.




“Was that IT?! Poisoned blade or not, you're not good enough to beat me! ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU GLOAT!”


With those words, Erik punches the afterburner on the main jets, forcing her to fling herself off before she gets ground up between Mecha Fafnir MK1, and the Wolfen.




Desperately, she pulls herself into a roll, using her momentum to fling herself back to the scaffolding platform. But with her one good eye left, she can see Erik using the prototype lightsaber to cut away the venom that got on his war machine, rather than follow her.




“You... I'm going to kill you! I'm going to make you SUFFER!” She screams, as she starts flinging scalpels at Erik, dismissing the majority of her fog and relying on ranged attacks instead.



As Erik dodges, he focuses. “Kairi? Are those two injured, for the left eye?”



“Little busy trying to not DIE in here, but no, they aren't. Why?” Kairi's voice is filled with rage and desperation. “Come on, dear. Focus, beat it! You can deal with possession, I KNOW you can!”




“Oi, Master! Maybe Jeanne could help?” Mordred's voice leaves them blinking.




“Oh, four victims instead of three? Sure! I can live with that! Go ahead, get her to come and help then.” Jack's twin voices echo over the speakers, as Erik shoots at the original.




“I took out the original's left eye. Meaning they aren't hurt when the real one is hurt. Or at least, new wraiths have the damage the original takes, while the old ones don't.” Erik retorts.



“Aw, you figured something out! That's irritating!”




Erik's eyes narrow further, as he clenches his controls tight. “Have you figured out everything, yet, then?”



“Eh?” Jack blinks, pausing mid-throw, as she studies him carefully. “What do you mean by that?”



In response, the tail lifts up, aiming carefully from Mecha Fafnir Mk1, then launches a bomb right into one of the four corners holding up the platform Jack is on. Jack screams, as she desperately clings to the platform, as it groans and tilts a bit from the damage.




“Hmm—I made it a little too strong, I see,” Erik smirks. “Well, no matter! I have the ammunition to ensure you fall, and boy, what a fall it'll be!


“After all,” he added, “I suspect that your little possession trick has a range, too!”




“YOU!” Jack screams, as she pulls herself back up, right as another bomb hits another corner. “I'll deal with you here and now, then! For Mommy's sake, JUST DIE!”




With those words, she flings a knife. Not a scalpel, but one of the precious few knives Semiramis coated with Blessed Hydra Venom.




Erik's eyes as well as Jack's widen, as one of the main jet engines get hit directly by it, leaving Mecha Fafnir MK1 leaning carefully in the air, as it slowly drifts lower.




“Tch. That sort of damage isn't enough to stop me yet!” Erik snarls, pushing the engines to their limits, as he forces himself to fight her, compensating with the hoverpod's engines to force Mecha Fafnir MK1 aloft.



Scalpel after scalpel is thrown, Erik doing his best to shoot each down with the machine guns, as they trade fire; Jack being careful to throw scalpels at the tail whenever she can, in an attempt to blow up the explosives serving as the tail's tip, and Erik doing his best to dodge.




“Tch. Not yet! It's not over yet!” Erik shouts, gunning the engines, as he pushes it in close, and slams down on the platform, swinging the tail at her brutally.




Jack pulls her right arm up, knife in hand to try and counter the tail, then winces as she gets slammed back, before looking at her arm and shoulder coated with ice. “What the—?! That's not fair at all!”




Erik smirks from inside the machine, as he rears up, then dashes forwards, clawing at her with the machine's claws.




They miss, utterly, as she easily dodges out of the way, and then smacks the hoverpod.




To her surprise and joy, as well as Erik's confusion and dread, the hoverpod slams into the ground hard, snapping open to leave him exposed, and her gleeful.


“The fuck?!” Erik yelps, forcing the machine back and off the platform.




“Aw, it looks like you have a design flaw there!” Jack smiles, maliciously, as she starts throwing scalpels directly at the hoverpod. “Makes it easy for me to win, doesn't it?!”



“Crap—Erik, Mordred, Jeanne isn't responding!” Kairi's voice echoes over the radio. “She isn't responding, and my daughter... She has a knife to her neck! It's dripping with poison!”




Erik's snarl deepens, as Jack continues landing hits on the hoverpod, leaving it slowing down, before he launches another bomb at the weakened platform, nearly disconnecting the section from the Wolfen.




Jack smiles at him, leaving Erik's eyes narrowed. “Now, now—be good, or else my hostage dies! All I need is everyone on the ship to give up their Command Spells and servants!”




“I'm sorry, Mordred. Touko. But to save my daughter...” Kairi's voice echoes over the communications system. “Mordred. By the power of my Command Spells: live on—live long enough to find a better Master for yourself, than me. Fight on, as long as you can, and live. Don't give up on existing, don't stop fighting, and live. Those are my orders—my three, absolute orders!”




“Master... I'm so sorry! I'll do my best!” Mordred shouts in the Tumbler, as Erik's eyes widen.




“You think I'm just going to give up?!” Erik snarls.




“No. I fully expect you to die here!” Jack replies, before landing another shot on the Hoverpod, leaving the mouth snapping open.




Erik's eyes widen, as he sees her launching herself at him, then desperately pulls his Mecha Fafnir MK1 down, lowering it so she skids over him, and onto the top back half, instead.




Then he guns it, pushing the remaining Jet Engine to its limit, forcing his war machine to grind the top against the Wolfen's lower armor once more, attempting to squash her between the Wolfen's Armor and his own machine's armor.




The sound of the jet engine getting stabbed, as he almost reaches it, hits him—before he watches her jump back to the platform.




“Bye bye! Have a fun fall!” Jack waves at Erik, as, without the two jet engines, his war machine starts falling fast, then for good measure, throws scalpels at the sections linking the hoverpod to the mouth's “roof”.



“Shit!” Erik snarls, then aims, firing another bomb at her platform as he falls. Then, his eyes go wide as the covering for his hoverpod starts falling off, even as his ride slowly falls down through the clouds, as the strained engines stop holding him up without the jets necessary to keep it up high.




“...C'mon—how can I fix this?” With those words, he works, and thinks. “Jury-rigging time? Yeah, jury-rigging time.”




With those words, he works, rapidly, as he repairs the roof of the Mecha Fafnir MK1, as he calls the Scylla up in private. “Scylla, is the main hangar clear of threats?”



“Yes, Boss. But...”
Erik snarls, interrupting the Scylla. “Is Mordred likely to last the next few minutes?”




“She SHOULD, Boss, but...!” Erik nods, and then interrupts again. “Open the hangar doors for the next 30 seconds. I'm not through with this yet.”



“But Boss...!” A sigh issues from the other end. “Yes, Boss—acknowledged. Just keep in mind that this is a BAD IDEA, okay?”



Erik snarls, harder. “I'm not through with that bitch yet.”




“But Boss... Wait—what the hell are you about to do? That thing's too damaged! And with the poison in the engines... It's not going to last more than a few more minutes! I can only imagine what that stuff's doing to the WIRING!”



“I—DON'T—CARE!” Erik's snarl is guttural, now. “OPEN THE DOORS, SCYLLA!”




“Yes, Boss!” The Scylla is resigned.



Erik raps out commands on his controls, as Mecha Fafnir MK1 drops lower into the atmosphere, as he looks up through the half repaired systems covering the mouth. Then he smiles slightly at Mecha Fafnir MK2 flying out of the mouth of the Wolfen, automated systems launching it down towards him.







Author's Notes:




So. If anyone's wondering why Erik actually sped up firing the Machine Guns, under Scion 1.0 rules, you could actually unload more rounds in a clip, 3 for 1 extra damage dice, and 10 for 2 extra damage dice. That longer burst of fire also hitting more than one target.




As for the reason why Mecha Fafnir MK1 opened it's “mouth” when the hoverpod was hit?



In the Scion game, I made it so the Wolf Wing, while acting as a decent control system, was also a weak point, so that if it was actually, properly hit? It would be like a glass jaw for the mecha involved.




It never got targeted as such, so it never came up in the game, and Erik never realized that it was a security risk and flaw.



So, when it's targeted? Damage hits for massive issues, and problems. So little issues like controls being temporarily screwed up, all the way to “the hatch between the hoverpod and armor plating over it would snap open, or even rip away”.

[EVA-Saiyajin]

Really liking this so far. What is this thing about "Spira" from Final Fantasy? A prequel? Can I get a name and link?

[Xamusel]

Well, since the authors are unable to do so right now, I figure I'll do the job. Although, technically, the prequel needs a new name and some altered content... considering he dropped the Reign of Winter plotline for his character (I offered to use it instead).

Here's the link: http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread...-D-D-X-over%29

[RanmaBushiko]

Really liking this so far. What is this thing about "Spira" from Final Fantasy? A prequel? Can I get a name and link?

Yay, new reader! Glad you're enjoying it.

Since Kieran's last attempt at a sequel to Crisis of Fayth was dropped, we teamed up for this one together, and I think it's going pretty well. Even if Open Office doesn't have a good spell check system.

Well, since the authors are unable to do so right now, I figure I'll do the job. Although, technically, the prequel needs a new name and some altered content... considering he dropped the Reign of Winter plotline for his character (I offered to use it instead).

Here's the link: http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread...-D-D-X-over%29

Thanks for handling that, Xamusel. I've been checking here off and on, but I'm about 3 pages into the next chapter on my end. Enjoying the action?

[Xamusel]

Yeah, I am, though I wonder when I'll be able to add my own contribution to the Grail Works universe... it's beginning to look like I'm getting the wrong idea altogether.

[Arbitrarity]

Well, I totally called the possession, though it's too bad Scathach can't doesn't seem to have any runic tricks for that (i.e. Gae Bolg Alternative's "pin in space" effect). Now, I'm inclined to suspect Amaterasu may not actually be out, though the fading Command Seals do look problematic, if only because she's an illusion expert (though she is squishy and easily killed if unprepared). Otherwise, I guess Erik is taking over Mordred, which would also make sense. I do wonder where Jeanne is, since she's reportedly not responding. My expectation might be that Amaterasu is concealing her as she gets into the room or somesuch, if Amaterasu is still alive. Otherwise, I guess Tamamo could be doing something similar, or Jeanne is just tied up protecting other people.

[RanmaBushiko]

Yeah, I am, though I wonder when I'll be able to add my own contribution to the Grail Works universe... it's beginning to look like I'm getting the wrong idea altogether.

When I have time, I'll help look over your stuff and give you some ideas. Fair enough?

Well, I totally called the possession, though it's too bad Scathach can't doesn't seem to have any runic tricks for that (i.e. Gae Bolg Alternative's "pin in space" effect). Now, I'm inclined to suspect Amaterasu may not actually be out, though the fading Command Seals do look problematic, if only because she's an illusion expert (though she is squishy and easily killed if unprepared). Otherwise, I guess Erik is taking over Mordred, which would also make sense. I do wonder where Jeanne is, since she's reportedly not responding. My expectation might be that Amaterasu is concealing her as she gets into the room or somesuch, if Amaterasu is still alive. Otherwise, I guess Tamamo could be doing something similar, or Jeanne is just tied up protecting other people.

You did call the possession, yes. Alas, in this case, Scathach is mostly trying to keep the two possessed people from killing others, or themselves. And trying to not break the expensive, one of a kind equipment, more than it's already been broken from Jack's wraith breaking out of the tank.

Amaterasu is very much dead, and those were her last words for her Servant body. Alas, poor Amaterasu, we knew you well. Just when you were starting to finally bond with Tamamo, too...

As for Jeanne? You'll get to enjoy that part of the clusterfuck next chapter...

And here's a question for you to ponder. If around a hundred or so have assaulted Mordred and EMIYA, and are working to tie them up in defending the mecha, where's the rest of the possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors gone?

Mwahaha

[Xamusel]

Fair enough, RB, and thank you.

[RanmaBushiko]

Sidestory: A Divine Interlude




Scion Universe

The Ruins of Yggdrasil




Three women enter into a ruined home, quietly. One, looking much like an old crone from a Disney Film. Not a doting grandmother, but the sort that you would see as a witch. The next, a beautiful woman that could pass as a doting mother. Last, but not least, a younger woman, looking somewhat excited and hyper.



Urd sits, sighing softly, looking over the ruins of their home. "So. That fool Loki finally caused that apocalypse we were worried about, sisters."




Verthandi nods, adjusting her skirt as she searches for a pan to make food on for them. "Indeed. And with the Norse Gods either gone or missing, we'll have to make do until they return."



Skuld simply nods as she speaks up. "Hel's the only one of the pantheon that made it, as far as I know. Krampus got killed from the apocalypse, leaving her alone and pissed. And even if we managed to avoid most of the effects... we're still looking more like we're out of that 'Oh! My Goddess!' series than before. I look like a little KID now, rather than us all looking like sisters!" With those words, she starts working on fixing some of the furniture in the home.



"No, sister." Verthandi speaks up. "Three more live, though they ran for it."



"And removed themselves from our weave, mostly, in the process. This is why we wanted the Ragnarok to come, after all." Urd admits. "At least we could have salvaged the pantheon, and ensured that our near-ruin would have left the remaining Gods even stronger."



"Who? I can't tell who removed themselves from the weave, with how damaged it is." Skuld grumpily looks at them.



"Erik Ulfrsonr, Tamamo Ulfrsonr, Fenrir, and their little pet Titanspawn, the Scylla." Verthandi speaks.




Urd simply nods, picking things up off the floor, and working to figure out what they were, and where they belonged. "To be fair, we wanted the Ragnarok to happen, so we ensured the pantheon would be more against him and what he did."



"Did we have to make it look like it was one giant frat party when he was around, though?" Skuld admits. "That tended to piss him off, especially since the only intellectuals around were Loki and Odin, and Loki very much wanted him dead."




"We were trying, sister, to ensure that the Fenris Wolf stayed chained. As well as to ensure that we wouldn't be stuck, alone, the three of us for millenia, with only Hel to talk with, until the other Gods reformed again!" Verthandi speaks up, for once. Then she simply sighs. "So, she's our only conversation partner, unless you'd rather deal with that Hades fellow, or that Izanami woman. They both survived, after all."



"I'd rather not deal with those last two." Urd admits. One would try to trick us into being his wife, or worse yet, harem, and the other has turned out to be a little too like that japanese term 'Yandere' for her own good."




Verthandi and Skuld both give quizzical looks at Urd, when she speaks up. "You have to remember, Urd. I'm the Goddess of the Future. I don't recall that term anymore, since history was rewritten and in the past. I'm sure Verthandi isn't much better, considering she's the Goddess of the Present."




Urd sighs. "Fair. It means she loves someone enough to want to kill anyone that touches her man. She just wants everyone to die, instead, because her man Izanagi left her. And since I can't tell if she has any memories, she's likely to want to kill us to watch us suffer, for the sake of our suffering. Or, even if she does have her memories, considering the majority of the Gods were UNMADE? She's likely just as homicidal from Izanagi not being there in her little underworld."



A shudder runs through the spines of all three Norns at Urd's words, before they all simply work for a while on fixing their home up.



"At least the Well we looked in is now in a part of the house! Should make it easier for us to look at things once things are done, right?" Skuld eventually speaks up.



"Considering we've got only six people to look at, Skuld?" Verthandi counters. "And visitors will want to walk through our home to see the well in question?"




“Ugh. So it's either separate the Well in a sub-section of the house or build our house fully around it?” Skuld murmurs.



“If we separate it from the house, it might be removed from existence until our Legend builds back up again.” Verthandi admits. “It barely exists as it is. Let's not tempt things, hmm?”




Twin sighs erupt from Skuld and Urd at Verthandi's words, before they quietly nod.



“What can we do, anyways? We're stuck here, with no entertainment, aren't we?” Skuld rubs her forehead.



“We could watch Erik and the clusterfuck he's likely to get into...” Urd admits. “And considering he was on Mars, it's likely he's survived for a time.”



Verthandi frowns at that. “How DID we miss him moving to Mars, anyways?”



“Now that you've brought him up... I sort of remember. I kept seeing him on Mars, and thought he simply had his divine domain there, what with him having the Stars Purview, with everything in the background being a part of it. Somehow, he managed to build everything he actually made to travel there, besides that Giant floating warship thing of his, in secret, and then he actually traveled there to colonize it.” Skuld admits.




“And with us assuming he was simply going to have his domain there, instead, we missed on his get out of dodge plans, entirely,” Urd sighs. “Especially since you were in the middle of trying to bribe Amaterasu to get Erik to join her pantheon, and be relegated to a side character status. Instead, he wound up doing the finishing blow to Jormungandr.”



Verthandi sighs. “Think we can watch his adventures, or scry him?”



“I can probably scry him and his future, if you want!” Skuld admits. “Besides, we've got little else to do, right? Aside from fixing our stuff, hunting for food, and ensuring the Well is safe...”



“And who knows how long it's going to take before the Titans reform, too.” Urd admits, rubbing her forehead. “As well as how many times we might shift, our Legend might shift, and so on and so forth.”




“That's going to be a pain.” Skuld admits. “I mean, I vaguely recall something about other names given to you—Urdnot, that one time?”



Urd gives Skuld a long, disappointing look, before simply stating, “You're thinking of those ‘Mass Effect’ games you loved, sister.”




“Oh, those were fun, though.” Verthandi admits.




“And how would you remember, exactly?” Skuld and Urd both look at Verthandi.




“I saved my video games collection, and working electronics I bribed Erik to make, just in case things went wrong, of course!” Verthandi smiles. “It's better than looking at half a dozen bored Gods and Goddesses for the next few thousand years, right?”




In sync, Urd and Skuld look at each other. “Why didn't we think of that? Damn it!”



Skuld sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Joy. So you're the only source of entertainment, Verthandi? Well, we'll work that out later. Should we get back on track?”




“Considering the other three Gods are likely to mess with us, rather than help us...” Verthandi sighs. “I suppose it's a good idea to look in on Erik and his future, hmm? Then we have games to play afterwards!”




The three Norns smile at that. “Better than books I've re-read year after year, right?” Skuld admits.



“Or making new potions—that gets boring after the first millennium.” Urd nods.



“That and irritating manga involving me marrying some boy in Japan as part of a Goddess Help Line didn't help how I've turned out, Verthandi admits, her arms folded. “It's going to take millennia for that to stop affecting my Legend!”



“Right—first, the scrying, and then I want to see if we've got a copy of that manga series,” Skuld admits with a grin.




“Indeed. Perhaps this won't be as boring as I first thought, after all!” Urd smiles as well.




Verthandi simply moves them closer to the well, and focuses, doing her best to ignore her sisters teasing her.




It is only a moment’s work to start scrying, showing Erik as he is. Flashes of fights, of massive events in his future, appear and go before them, as they watch carefully.




“He's not been altered like most everyone else, yet?” Urd blinks. “I'll give him my respect for that, at least...”



“Perhaps, but it's still grinding away at his Legend. And whatever this new universe is, it is also trying to influence him, as well...” Verthandi trails off, narrowing her eyes. “I can't quite make out how, however.”




“I can see it.” Skuld admits, her eyes narrowed. “With how he's barely in the weave, that far from our universe, it's faint, though. Three major paths...”



Urd and Verthandi turn, to study her intently. “Do tell, sister?” Urd eventually asks, only to see Skuld raise her hand up to hush them.




Finally, she pulls her head away from the well. “All three are faint, as his Legend refuses to die and let him die. But I can see three major options for him. The first, I see, has him as more machine than God—a pulsing something in his chest, flooding him with inhuman strength, forcing his Legend to be that of a major power... But something seems wrong with him. He looks too cold. And something behind him towers over him, watching at all times. Manipulating him? Using him? I can't tell. His wife might be in the picture, but she's a side-story, at best.”



Urd blinks in consternation. “That doesn't sound pleasant.”




Verthandi simply nods, listening.



“The second seems to rotate around what the spirit of that Earth wishes to see him as. Chained and bound, forced to serve its whims. A divine God of some sort? But of ice, and cold, one bound much like Fenrir, if not nearly the same.” Skuld admits. “That seems to be the second strongest path.




“That's... Concerning,” Verthandi admits. “It sounds like that world wishes to make him its weapon.”




“And one concerning thing about it? I couldn't see him using machinery anymore, at all. Whatever it would do...” Skuld trails off, shaking her head, and rubs her forehead from the headache.




“It wouldn't be pleasant for him, to say the least,” Urd speaks up. “What about the third one, then?



“That one... I can't see anything about; if he lives, or dies. Only that his Legend is left, maybe as a spark at most? Perhaps he'll reincarnate as himself, wind up in a similar story, with similar foes? But considering I can't see Uller reforming as a Norse God...” Skuld trails off.




“He'd have to either force himself to find a new source of divinity, or find a way to make himself divine once more,” Verthandi admits, her arms folded. “Is there a good chance he'd survive?”



“I honestly don't know.” Skuld admits. “The sheer amount of Legend there, right now, obscures most things, especially for my sight. But considering the Titans are busy trying to reform Ymir using comets from the edge of the Solar System? I suspect they lost something important of his, or Erik took it with him.”




The Norns sigh softly, almost in sync. “And here I was hoping his future would be more entertaining!” Urd admits.



“Well, we've got other entertainment, right?” Verthandi says cheerfully, smiling. “Anything else you could see, Skuld?”




“No, sorry,” Skuld admits. Not at this time.”



“So, we've worked out everything involving Erik's future! Now what?” Urd asks, bemusedly.




“Video games, of course! I'm going to be bored to tears, otherwise!” Skuld grins at the thought of playing lots of them.




“And we're all going to do well, what with all those rare video games I got, too!” Verthandi states with a smile on her matronly face, as she walks into the room with the generator, to turn it on.




The generator, as it turns out, has a huge rock in it. For a moment, the three Norns just stare at it.




“Um... Sister?” Skuld hesitantly asks. “Did you, by chance, manage to get spares—or maybe some extra gasoline?”



“No. No I did not,” Verthandi weakly replies. “I did get tool kits, but...” Verthandi's voice trails off, as they stare at the huge amount of rubble embedded in their only generator.




“Well, did you get rechargeable batteries, and the like, for us?” Urd asks, calmly.




“Um... The only ones I could find that would work long term would be charged by Legend... And Thor charged me a whole lot for them,” Verthandi hesitantly admits. “There're a couple solar chargers! But, it's...”



“Solar. And the batteries will wear out eventually over time, unless they're constantly plugged in. Did you at LEAST make sure it was made by a GOD of forging, for the solar chargers? Or Erik, our resident God of Innovation?!” Skuld asks, folding her arms.



“Er... no? Was I supposed to?” Verthandi hesitantly asks. “It's not like they wear out, right?”




Urd's eyes, as well as Skuld's, narrow at their sister. “Right?!” Verthandi repeats, her voice strengthening.




As one, the two sisters crack their knuckles, while approaching their sister. At the realization that her sisters mean her harm, she desperately starts running.



“GET BACK HERE!” The two sisters scream in unison. “We're going to make you a Goddess of the Forge, and of Machines, and you're going to like it!”




“Oh crap, I'm going to die! Feet don't fail me now!” With those words, Verthandi desperately does her best to outrun her sisters, as they give chase.






Author's Notes:

So, this is to tide everyone over, until Kieran's next chapter can be finished. To be honest? I'm already over a chapter in writing, but until his part is done, to show the combat and how it's going on his end, I'm sitting on it rather than posting it. No offense, just trying to keep myself pacing myself to Kieran's pace for this stuff.



So instead, you get this. I'll start working on the next future interlude after this.




Another reason why this happens? In Scion 2.0, Hel suddenly has the Forge purview. There has to be a reason why. And this is as good of one as any.

[hatori]

Oh god. The aa!! Megami sama reference. I almost immediately pegged each in their anime counterpart voices. Which ofc. Wouldnt be fair to anynof them... Lol

[Kieran]

As different as RB and I are in approach, things do overlap . . .

And nice to hear from you.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and TYPE-MOON, along with whomever they’ve happened to license them to, such as Geneon, Funimation, A-1 Pictures and Netflix.
This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.







Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004









Godafrid was in motion before Olga’s scream had finished, adrenaline flushing through his system just ahead of his prana.
Shielder and XX had been half a breath behind him as they shifted into their battle gear, but quickly left him behind once the flash of transformation faded. His Mystic Eyes let him track their movements, but matching it was a different matter altogether; when they took things seriously, just about any Servant was superior to a mere magus, after all. And with Olga Marie’s life on the line (which the terror in that scream certainly implied was the case), there was no more important time to do so. “Child in danger” was one of the oldest, most primal alarms that humanity had—arguably the most.

(And that was leaving aside the fact that Godafrid was finding her surprisingly adorable in her innocence. What he recalled of her Case Files incarnation hadn’t been nearly so endearing.)

He didn’t dare switch to seeing through XX’s eyes—not when he was in motion, in a combat situation—so he couldn’t say precisely what happened next with certainty. An educated guess, on the other hand, was fairly easy. After all, the sight of the rear half of the shop (meaning the building) exploding into rubble, with XX surging outward and skyward while bearing the shopkeeper impaled upon her lance, was a pretty obvious clue. And the fact that said shopkeeper was still moving, and actually trying to force its way up the shaft of the weapon in order to reach XX—at least, until his Servant set the weapon to spinning—was another. He kind of wished he hadn’t seen what effect using a drill that size had on a human body, but at least the lance’s “holy” aspect had caused said body to self-immolate, making the sight relatively brief . . .

Of course, the rapid emergence of other shapes into the fog-shrouded street—all revealed as townspeople in varying states of undeath—was also a dead giveaway; or more accurately, a “Dead” (as in “Apostle”) giveaway.

“Darnicula” is in play, and converting people as fast as he did in the anime; if not faster, since it’s anybody’s guess whether or not drawing on the Castlevania version might have actually boosted his abilities—

Moving faster than anything with that little coordination had a right to, one of the Dead burst from the fog, fangs bared and inches from him in less time than it took to blink . . .








Arvandor
The Olympian Glades of Arborea, the Outer Planes
Several days ago








While certain events, in the fullness of time, would reveal her to be merely an aspect of the human goddess Selûne (a state which would, at an even later point, become questionable), even without that facet of her existence, Sehanine Moonbow was many things to the mortals who worshipped her. As her name implied, she was a lunar goddess—and as such, a patron deity of lycanthropes—of course, but also one who watched presided over death (and the sanctity of the dead, in particular), magic (especially illusions) and dreams, with all their associated ephemera.

Such as, for example, imagination; and when dealing that of a particular mortal—especially with the aid of a god of time, and a god associated with wisdom such as Deep Sashelas—she could really cut loose, as well as find some fascinating ideas . . .

In the normal course of things, the obvious means of rewarding the human, aside from reviving him to begin with, would be to make him a Chosen. Those rare mortals, entrusted with a portion of a deity’s power, were akin to demigods in strength. Within Faerûn, the Chosen of Mystra, the human goddess of magic and incarnation of the Weave of Magic itself, were particularly well-known—the archmage Elminster first among them. And while less common amongst the non-human pantheons, they were far from unknown; indeed, one rare elf, the queen of Evermeet, was a Chosen of the Seldarine entire, rather than any one deity!

As such, the solution seemed clear . . . And yet, it was not without flaws. To begin with, the creation and existence of a Chosen represented a significant investment of personal power for a deity; one of the many reasons for their rarity. This investment was typically paid back in the tasks and duties done by the Chosen—and for some deities, in their entertainment value—but it would represent a loss here, as the mortal in question would not be returning to Toril, or likely anywhere on the Material Plane that the Seldarine would recognise.

Granted, as shown here, there was the possibility of expanding the influence of the Seldarine and the presence of the Tel’Quessir in his wanderings—but that was hardly certain. And with the recent resurgence of the Spider Queen’s power, there was little doubt that the war against Lloth and her drow minions would soon resume in earnest; for that, and to protect the newly-redeemed dark elves remaining on Toril from her wrath, the Seldarine would need all the strength they could muster.

. . . And, in truth, Sehanine admitted to herself, very few of the Seldarine’s Chosen yet survived; Queen Amlaruil Moonflower was one of the rare few—and her own last Chosen existed in a state of perpetual torment, her spirit contained and consumed by Mystra’s fire, as an accident of being doubly Chosen at the time of her death.

Hardly a fate she would wish upon this, a saviour of an entire race of her mortal children. And possibly a reaction to the mixture of elven divinity and humanity’s, which made the decision to empower him so a doubly poor one—and yet . . .

“And yet,” Labelas mused slyly, “was not Qilué Veladorn doubly Chosen by elf and human deities?”

He referred, of course, to Qilué Veladorn, high priestess and Chosen of Eilistraee—her mortal host during the younger goddess’ ill-fated confrontation with Lloth, and slain with her—but also the youngest of the group known as “The Seven Sisters” . . .

Who were some of the oldest and most well-known Chosen of Mystra in Faerûn—and despite her relative youth, the dark-skinned drow amongst the silver-haired humans had thrived with both Mystra and Eilistraee’s power within her for over six centuries.

A whimsical part of Sehanine found grim amusement in the fact that Corellon’s exiled and now-deceased daughter—for whose sake this human had been willing to die—had accomplished precisely the feat stymied her now.

And while she pondered, she watched as the elder elf (in appearance, if not necessarily truth) began unravelling the complex web of enchantments that had made the mortal what he was. It was, she admitted, a fascinating process: a blending of history and dreams, potential histories, she suspected, bound to the core of the human’s being, which—

“Is that the Far Realm’s influence?” she hissed suddenly, weapon appearing in hand. Nor was she alone in that, as the more martially-inclined among their number did the same.

“No,” Labelas said firmly. “Or at least, only in the sense that the Material Plane he calls home is as alien to us, in the end, however similar it seems—‘tis not a place for our kind, mortal or deity, to wander casually.”

Many of the Seldarine, Sehanine among them, gave the greybeard a puzzled look, but it was Hanali who asked “Then how—?”

After all, the goddess mused, the Far Realm warped all it encountered, producing eldritch horrors from outside the boundaries of time and space; if his home was as strange . . .

“Mystra’s favourite mortal occasionally pops over for tea with one of its inhabitants,” Labelas said dryly.

More than one of them protested, in unison, “That just raises more questions—!”

“Enough,” Corellon said firmly, and the gathered deities heeded the Lord Coronal. Addressing the elder, he asked simply, “Can we affect so alien a creature, so fundamentally? A mere human would be difficult enough, but . . .”

Labelas answered, “He is mortal, and therefore prone to all the weaknesses of such creatures. Moreover, he as vulnerable to ignorance as any other; be they mortal or otherwise, for that matter. But in this particular instance, our efforts will work, I expect, because he would wish them to—they did before.

“. . . With,” he admitted after a moment, frowning, “a few unexpected oddities—but still, it should be fine. Simply see what there is already that we can work with.”

Sehanine nodded in acknowledgement, as with the rest, and went to work.

Looking at the mortal as a mortal, he was unremarkable; no more or less than any other such creature, and decidedly less, in the Seldarine’s eyes, for being a human over an elf. Yet even allowing for that factor, there was a deeply alien quality to his soul: it possessed a density that was difficult to comprehend, a weight that only showed in those with the power to shape destinies and realms. Among mortals, such beings were often called “heroes,” among immortals, “gods”—yet this soul showed the qualities of neither. Instead, it seemed to do so merely by existing, rather than any active effort, as though reality itself struggled with its presence, warping around the sheer weight of its being . . .

Sehanine broke off analysing the soul. Goddess of the moon she might be, alongside mysticism, seers and dreamers—but while the concept was aligned with her portfolio, even she had limited protection from madness, which she feared might be the ultimate result of comprehending what she was seeing.

Small wonder, she thought, that it seemed at first to come from the Far Realm; that aspect of its nature would fit right in with the outer plane’s insane nature . . .

Instead, she pulled back, and began to scan it superficially; trying to see what there was to see about it.

Flights of fancy filled her vision—sometimes in the form of oddly-written pages, other times as fully-realised images. He was a dreamer, if nothing else, which meant that Sehanine had a genuine claim to him—or Selûne, if it came to it—if it became necessary to release him by undoing the lycanthrope nature she was holding him in.

But that said, there seemed to be little effort in realising his dreams attached, which she disliked.

“. . . He likes animals,” Hanali noted—and indeed, Sehanine saw a number of images of them. Primarily dogs, it seemed, but a pair of small rabbits, as well, and several cats. “If nothing else, that part of his druid persona appears to have been born from genuineness. Though given the sheer amount of enchantment and affection he attaches to cats, I fear Sharess might have a genuine claim on his soul . . .”

The other goddess giggled, apparently meaning it as a joke, but there was seriousness in her voice to a level that caused several of them to consider her statement carefully. It wasn’t that the human deity of cats, pleasure, and such things —once known as “Bastet”—was a terrible individual, but Sehanine, if no one else, was loath to admit to what they were doing. Elven pride, she supposed; admitting that they’d needed a human, and a mortal one at that, to solve their problems . . .

No, she thought it was better it stayed amongst the Seldarine. If nothing else, it kept the newly-returned Ssri’Tel-Quessir safer if no one knew they’d returned at all, never mind how.

(And that was the official explanation, and they would stick to it.)

Finally, Corellon shook his head. “As the mortal is not staying, I see no purpose to it.”

“Very well, Lord Coronal,” Hanali replied. She resumed studying along her area of expertise, and Sehanine privately wondered if shifting the template of lycanthropy to one of the feline types might be better-received, by both the mortal and his home plane. Werewolves, after all, had a certain (and sadly, often deserved) stigma attached to them—

Hanali abruptly shrieked in disgust.

“Look what he’s done to himself!” she demanded in outrage. “To voluntarily carve away his own heart like that . . . How could he?! What twisted, hellish plane could possibly have—”

“The Demiplane of Dread,” Sehanine said coldly, seeing the evidence of it with her own eyes, now that she was looking closely. The dark cruelty of that realm was interlaced with the specifics of his lycanthropic nature—strengthening it with its own twisted concepts of what a lycanthrope ought to be . . .

And now they ran into a problem.

Lord Ao had more or less forbidden contact with that place, for reasons of his own; and after the last time, none wished to contradict the Overgod. He might decide to wipe them out entirely, rather than merely banish them from the heavens—which had been bad enough. And that wasn’t even considering what the Dark Powers that ruled that place might do to the mortal, if they sensed meddling with their work . . .

Again, it would be a very poor repayment of the kindness done them.

“Should we act upon him as a lycanthrope, we might call the Mists in response,” Corellon said. “And given that soul’s nature . . .” The Father of All Elves smiled grimly. “I might enjoy seeing the Demiplane of Dread choke on that, but ‘twould not end well for the mortal aspect of him, I am sure.

“Is there any other means by which we might have purchase upon him, outside the cursed nature?” he asked. “Can none of you find even the thinnest thread of faith to bind him with?”

A difficult question—as “faith” was not necessarily “belief.” Even upon Toril, where the gods were known as fact, and all souls were claimed by at least one deity upon death (or else suffered for the inattention), clerics were hardly ubiquitous. And because he was human, underneath it all, it was faith such as that which they would need to hold him; for human he was, and rightly the property of human gods, unless some deeper tie linked him to the Seldarine . . .

“. . . His loves are largely superficial; mere infatuations,” Hanali said with a sigh, her expression heartbroken. “Oh, interest, he has, to be sure—there are hundreds I can see which might catch his eye, and I rather like this one—”

“Not the best idea, child,” Labelas counselled. “For a whole host of reasons—chief among them being that while she is largely innocent, her world is nearly as grim as the mortal’s own.” He gave a harsh bark of laughter, adding, “Indeed, ‘twould make a fine addition to the demiplane whose attention we are attempting to avoid, I fear.”

Hanali frowned. “Maybe I can find a human equivalent to her . . .” She actually scowled in frustration, looking horribly wrong and yet no less beautiful in the process. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. He believes in love for everyone and anyone but himself; there’s nothing of him for me to grasp, unless I resurrect his dogs, or a cat friend—and that’s not really my kind of love. ”

The golden beauty was visibly offended on a fundamental level, as she muttered under her breath, “I’m half-tempted to bring one of his statues to life . . .”

“Likewise, his fascination with the sea is shallow,” Deep Sashelas said regretfully, “his actual experience limited—and as terrifying as it was wondrous. The deeps have attempted to keep him, more than once; it surprises me that he remains as enamored of water as he is.”

Sehanine frowned as she did her own search. Yes, he was a dreamer, which meant that she could claim him, if she chose to—but the tie was weak, and only really useful if he died upon Toril. As that was not going to happen, by the Lord Coronal’s order, she needed something more if she was to exert authority . . .

“Power of the moon and stars, protect me . . . Thank you, moon and stars.”

That phrase, repeated often (dare she say, ritualistically) over a period in his youth, came to her ears—said half in whimsy, as part of the pretend-play he so often indulged in . . . But it was meant, too, with all the enchantment and delight that the night sky ever awakened in him; a heartfelt prayer, or as close as he could come to one, to something that held his heart—however much of it he had left, if Hanali was correct. Whether Sehanine, Selune, lost Eilistraee, or some other deity entirely, the Moon would ever call to him, and as such . . .

“. . . I have him, Lord Coronal,” Sehanine said. “I can release the lycanthrope template, if you wish.”

“Do that,” Labelas cautioned, “and it may alert the Dark Powers to his existence.” He smiled, then, that knowing smile of a deity who knew you were aware of his propensity to be manipulative, but would do what he said anyway.

“Moonlight can soften the shadows,” he remarked suggestively, “as you well know . . . And perhaps you would find this of interest?”

As before, a web of enchantments flowed over the mortal form before them—similar, but lesser than before, to create a mere seeming, instead of reality.

“What . . .?” Sehanine gasped—and as before, she was not the only one. “What is this?”

It felt like a dream, of sorts; another of the human’s pretend-plays, brought to life, or nearly so. And yet . . .

“A different sort of Chosen,” Labelas said, “formed of the mortal’s imagination, and that of his people; ‘tis a different sort of shapechanger, as well—but of all its qualities, the most remarkable is this.”

Patterns were highlighted along the flesh, which Sehanine recognised in nature if not in specific as being mystical in origin. And the material component of them—

“A binding,” Labelas elaborated. “To protect flesh, mind and soul from any transmutations save those wrought by the Chosen’s own power. Something our young hero might require, given his recent experiences . . .”

With a gesture, the elder elf called up the echo of what the boy’s existence had been, allowing them to see the inherent instabilities in the various magics bound to him; the effects of the travels and travails he’d undergone. And truly, from what Sehanine could see, such a binding as Labelas described might indeed be useful . . . But one thing still puzzled her.

“What is that material . . .?”

“According to what I could glean from the boy’s history, ‘tis called ‘moonsilver,’” Labelas said, causing her to raise an eyebrow, and him to give her a dusty chuckle in response. “Aye, I rather thought the name would intrigue you. He’s come across it twice, in different contexts; you may find the effects of both versions fascinating.”

Sehanine’s eyebrow arched higher. “Indeed . . .?”

“I take it, then,” Corellon interrupted, “that we have somewhere to begin?”

The Father of All Elves radiated a subtle amusement at the byplay, but also impatience—rare, in an elf, but perhaps understandable, given that few individuals liked to labour under a debt of any kind.

Sehanine considered. “I think, Lord Coronal, that indeed we might.”

“Then let us begin,” he ordered.








Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004








Between one heartbeat and the next, instinct took over, and Godafrid automatically raised an arm to block even as he threw a switch in the back of his mind. Filigrees of brilliant, lambent silver emerged upon his skin, tracing patterns of breathtaking artistry (and that a particularly knowledgeable mind might recognise as elven runic script)—

And when the Dead touched it, the walking corpse ignited as though transformed into a magnesium flare.

As puzzle pieces he hadn’t dared consciously acknowledge (with, he suspected, a little encouragement from outside sources) slotted into place, Godafrid swore internally. He was a mix of divine and human, if not how he’d originally thought; and a lot of XX’s comments made more sense now, as did everyone’s easy acknowledgement of his existence.

Lunar Exalted couldn’t shape Fate, after all—that was the province of the Sidereals—but their ability to transform themselves was potentially good enough, with the right Charms and Knacks in shape-shifting, to fool even Fate into thinking that they were someone or something else . . .

Fiore, he thought bleakly, is going to be heartbroken. I wonder if she’ll kill me herself, or let Chiron do it . . .?

As another Dead lunged for him, and he repeated the demonstration of why their closing to melee against someone whose skin and soul were covered in divinely-blessed silver was a very bad idea, Godafrid briefly reflected that he’d have to survive this, first.

I can punch the hell out of these things and make it stick, but a weapon would make this easier . . .

Regretting that he’d left Erik’s copy of Aestus Estus behind (even leaving aside the fact that he hadn’t been expecting this kind of trouble, a weapon that blatant wasn’t exactly a good idea to wander around with in the twenty-first century) Godafrid’s attention was drawn by a sudden rattling—

As a barbed armlet abruptly slid off his arm and into his hand, uncoiling as it did so.

Oh Hel, you clever bitch . . .

The thought was tinged with admiration, even as Godafrid shoved aside contemplating how similar the whip was to the scourges Krampus had wielded in his head—or where and how the goddess might have come up with the notion of soulsteel, which was from a different game altogether; albeit one of the “spiritual predecessors” of Scion. They were disturbing, but not his primary worry at the moment. Nor, really, was the small army of bloodthirsty Dead he found himself facing.

No, what really bothered him was the sheer convenience of having a magical whip on hand to deal with an unexpected Dracula attack—it was exactly the kind of coincidental contrivance that Fate (the Scion version, at least) loved to weave together.

If I survive this, I’m going to kill Erik . . .










Writer's Notes: My first chapter of the New Year, and my sincerest apologies for the wait - unfortunately, I have to blame the holidays, trouble at work, and a case of writer's block that simply would not die. Fortunately, I think I've got everything worked out now (more or less), so hopefully it's back to business as usual. Enjoy!


. . . And my long-time readers can no doubt guess the real significance of the chapter's title.

[Arbitrarity]

Oh INTERESTING. So Labelas brought out Lunar Exaltation as a method of being Chosen (which absolutely makes sense in Selune/Sehanine's purview), but Godafrid also has an item (Scion-style Relic?) from Hel, that's made of one of the Exalted metals, Soulsteel, that's usually associated with Abyssal Exalted (and I would expect Hel to have an easy time making it, given you literally forge souls into it). Definitely seems to fit, given how you had this in mind as "the original plan", and that's about what I expected for how it came to be.

Not sure how effective a weapon that whip will actually be against the Dead, compared to Moonsilver, but it definitely follows the Belmont pattern to have a whip. It might cow them in some way, I guess?

I do suspect Fiore is going to be more understanding than he expects, though. He may not be Godafrid specifically, but he's also still kinda the same person. Still, it's ambiguous enough you could go either way, depending on what you want to do with her.

[Kieran]

Oh INTERESTING.

Thank you.

So Labelas brought out Lunar Exaltation as a method of being Chosen (which absolutely makes sense in Selune/Sehanine's purview), but Godafrid also has an item (Scion-style Relic?) from Hel, that's made of one of the Exalted metals, Soulsteel, that's usually associated with Abyssal Exalted (and I would expect Hel to have an easy time making it, given you literally forge souls into it).

Yes, and yes - and these are the "default settings," as it were.

In worlds that are more d20-oriented in their metaphysical rules (the Realms, certain settings with d20 conversions like Slayers, etc.), or places like RIFTS Earth (or other Palladium Megaverse settings), it will manifest slightly differently (he's a werecreature, with the tattoos becoming a Major Artefact that allow X effects, perhaps), but overall, that's how this is meant to work. And because of what the tattoos are meant to do, Godafrid can go without a paradigm shield, unlike the rest of the Works - because either the changing metaphysical laws won't affect him in the first place, or he'll be able to revert back once outside them, unlike any of the rest of them. As noted in Zelretch's interlude, the Moon can change itself, but its essential nature doesn't change with it.

Definitely seems to fit, given how you had this in mind as "the original plan", and that's about what I expected for how it came to be.

Well, I batted it around, and while Scion Second Edition has a lot of interesting things to it, there's not enough material yet to really flesh things out - and nothing that specifically matches my needs without problems. But a Lunar fits my original concept as the Works' intelligence/infiltration specialist, it's powerful without being too overbearing - and by detaching it from the Exalted setting, I lose most of the baggage I was having trouble with. Which is not to say that Limit Break might not be a thing, still, with that Shadow taint hanging around . . .

Now, if only I could settle on an appropriate spirit-shape - that's been half my problem since this all started!

Not sure how effective a weapon that whip will actually be against the Dead, compared to Moonsilver, but it definitely follows the Belmont pattern to have a whip. It might cow them in some way, I guess?

It is possible, though difficult and expensive (to say nothing of dangerous), for him to attune to an artefact made of one of the other magical materials; and a soulsteel whip, in this case, drains Essence from its targets and transfers it to its wielder. And since "Essence" can basically be read as "prana" . . .

I do suspect Fiore is going to be more understanding than he expects, though. He may not be Godafrid specifically, but he's also still kinda the same person. Still, it's ambiguous enough you could go either way, depending on what you want to do with her.

That is the question - I like her, but there's really not much to go on about her as a character/person. And, as I've noted before, we basically have two options: keep her a crippled magus, or a healthy, but unpowered human - unless I do something ridiculous, like Demi-Servant her or give her a Solar Exaltation. But at that point, she might as well be someone else, rather than herself, no?

[Arbitrarity]

Yes, and yes - and these are the "default settings," as it were.

In worlds that are more d20-oriented in their metaphysical rules (the Realms, certain settings with d20 conversions like Slayers, etc.), or places like RIFTS Earth (or other Palladium Megaverse settings), it will manifest slightly differently (he's a werecreature, with the tattoos becoming a Major Artefact that allow X effects, perhaps), but overall, that's how this is meant to work. And because of what the tattoos are meant to do, Godafrid can go without a paradigm shield, unlike the rest of the Works - because either the changing metaphysical laws won't affect him in the first place, or he'll be able to revert back once outside them, unlike any of the rest of them. As noted in Zelretch's interlude, the Moon can change itself, but its essential nature doesn't change with it.

And since he's currently in the middle of a bunch of weird metaphysical crossovers, he's able to run with "stock" settings.

Well, I batted it around, and while Scion Second Edition has a lot of interesting things to it, there's not enough material yet to really flesh things out - and nothing that specifically matches my needs without problems. But a Lunar fits my original concept as the Works' intelligence/infiltration specialist, it's powerful without being too overbearing - and by detaching it from the Exalted setting, I lose most of the baggage I was having trouble with. Which is not to say that Limit Break might not be a thing, still, with that Shadow taint hanging around . . .

Now, if only I could settle on an appropriate spirit-shape - that's been half my problem since this all started!

Yeah, Ravenloft does seem like an effective place to derive a Virtue Flaw from. I would expect Godafrid to tend towards Compassion or Conviction flaws, but since Limit tends to take a while to build up, and is fairly devastating, you can probably leave that for a while.

I would kind of expect Godafrid to be Changing Moon caste, given the "moon can change" aspect and how he acts as a spy/knowledge broker according to XX. He's not mystical, he's not physical, he's manipulation/knowledge.

I'd probably narrow spirit shapes down to raven/crow, and coyote. Both are mostly native american, mythologically (though ravens also feature in Norse mythology), and while raven has the obvious associations with the Raven Queen, coyote makes a nice callback to lycanthropy, and has a similar role as a trickster, while seeming a bit more human. The trickster archetype is well-populated though, so wolves, spiders, foxes, and so on also work. I kinda like coyote solely because it's a counterpart to the raven, so it feels like it forms a balance.

It is possible, though difficult and expensive (to say nothing of dangerous), for him to attune to an artefact made of one of the other magical materials; and a soulsteel whip, in this case, drains Essence from its targets and transfers it to its wielder. And since "Essence" can basically be read as "prana" . . .

Ah, I see. Soulsteel definitely seems like one that would be naturally dangerous, but that is a big benefit. Obvious effects relating to the Demiplane of Dread are obvious, though.

That is the question - I like her, but there's really not much to go on about her as a character/person. And, as I've noted before, we basically have two options: keep her a crippled magus, or a healthy, but unpowered human - unless I do something ridiculous, like Demi-Servant her or give her a Solar Exaltation. But at that point, she might as well be someone else, rather than herself, no?

I mean, Erik's magic circuit hackery seems like it might let you get a healthy, lower-powered human, but I suppose you don't need to rush to fitting in a character just because they're there. As a character, I expect Godafrid to make an effort, but the lack of materiel about her abilities, and minimal character definition mean you have kind of a blank slate. While I'm confident you can work with that, it does run the risk of essentially turning her into an OC, which, while you tend to do them well, might be too much for some. Also, Solar Exalting Fiore just seems weird.

Abyssal Exalted Satsuki does seem like a fun idea, of course, since we've made Godafrid a Lunar, and it lets you play with a bunch of the death and companionship themes as well. Or you could just have her as-is, since the Exalted setting baggage can be a bit constraining.

[Kieran]

And since he's currently in the middle of a bunch of weird metaphysical crossovers, he's able to run with "stock" settings.

That, and Exalted as a setting/rule system is largely compatible with TYPE-MOON (or can be, if you add in other White Wolf/Onyx Path game rules). So, as a default setup, it causes fewer problems.

Yeah, Ravenloft does seem like an effective place to derive a Virtue Flaw from. I would expect Godafrid to tend towards Compassion or Conviction flaws, but since Limit tends to take a while to build up, and is fairly devastating, you can probably leave that for a while.

Yes.

I would kind of expect Godafrid to be Changing Moon caste, given the "moon can change" aspect and how he acts as a spy/knowledge broker according to XX. He's not mystical, he's not physical, he's manipulation/knowledge.

To a point, you're right; I looked at it as the core Attributes I'm good at being the mental ones. No Moons are more storytellers and shamans than the more cerebral, hermetic sorcerers that Solars are, anyway - and they did draw some aspects of the former priest caste into themselves.

. . . Failing that, though, Second Edition detailed the lost Castes, including the Waning Moon - tricksters and spies whose favoured Attributes were Dexterity, Manipulation, and Wits. Sound about right?

I'd probably narrow spirit shapes down to raven/crow, and coyote. Both are mostly native american, mythologically (though ravens also feature in Norse mythology), and while raven has the obvious associations with the Raven Queen, coyote makes a nice callback to lycanthropy, and has a similar role as a trickster, while seeming a bit more human. The trickster archetype is well-populated though, so wolves, spiders, foxes, and so on also work. I kinda like coyote solely because it's a counterpart to the raven, so it feels like it forms a balance.

True. Ideally, I want one with a lycanthrope counterpart in D&D - which varies, depending on the edition. Wereravens do exist, for example, but only in 2nd and 5th. I've been looking at werebears and weretigers, because there's a "legendary" counterpart in the 3.5 core Monster Manual, and they have Ravenloft-specific weaknesses (cold iron and belladonna for the bear, and obsidian and ginseng for the tiger).

Ah, I see. Soulsteel definitely seems like one that would be naturally dangerous, but that is a big benefit. Obvious effects relating to the Demiplane of Dread are obvious, though.

True. In D&D realms, it'd be a +something vampiric frostbrand whip of greater wounding. For a battle against Servants and Dead, however, it is pretty much ideal.

I mean, Erik's magic circuit hackery seems like it might let you get a healthy, lower-powered human, but I suppose you don't need to rush to fitting in a character just because they're there.

That's kind of been my thinking. There is one option I've considered, but it's not a pleasant one.

As a character, I expect Godafrid to make an effort, but the lack of materiel about her abilities, and minimal character definition mean you have kind of a blank slate. While I'm confident you can work with that, it does run the risk of essentially turning her into an OC, which, while you tend to do them well, might be too much for some.

That's also my worry. There's a line with characters like that, and I'm not sure where it is, with her.

Also, Solar Exalting Fiore just seems weird.

A little bit, yes. I could almost see it if happen to Laeticia - heck, with Jeanne as her "previous life," it's not a bad analogue - but considering that Fiore doesn't like the magus lifestyle, handing her a Twilight Exaltation . . .

Plus, where would it come from? What Godafrid has is essentially a blank - there's no past life or lives to draw on. Whatever Charms or Knacks he has were gifted by the Seldarine; there's no half-recollected experience, or anything like that. And it wasn't made to mirror a Solar Exaltation, so there shouldn't be an automatic bond out there - which is not to say it's necessarily incapable of bonding to one. After all, Hanali was quite upset . . .

Abyssal Exalted Satsuki does seem like a fun idea, of course, since we've made Godafrid a Lunar, and it lets you play with a bunch of the death and companionship themes as well. Or you could just have her as-is, since the Exalted setting baggage can be a bit constraining.

Yeah - that would be a problem. A neat idea, I agree completely; but an overall problem, given how badly the Abyssal's general Resonance affects things around it, unless I give her background a major overhaul . . . Sacchin as a Dead Apostle is actually easier in that regard.

[Arbitrarity]

To a point, you're right; I looked at it as the core Attributes I'm good at being the mental ones. No Moons are more storytellers and shamans than the more cerebral, hermetic sorcerers that Solars are, anyway - and they did draw some aspects of the former priest caste into themselves.

. . . Failing that, though, Second Edition detailed the lost Castes, including the Waning Moon - tricksters and spies whose favoured Attributes were Dexterity, Manipulation, and Wits. Sound about right?

Good point, I read No Moon as a bit closer to Solar sorcerers than shaman-esque, so that fits better (I'm not first-hand experienced with Exalted, so I'm not 100% sure whether what I find online is accurate)

True. Ideally, I want one with a lycanthrope counterpart in D&D - which varies, depending on the edition. Wereravens do exist, for example, but only in 2nd and 5th. I've been looking at werebears and weretigers, because there's a "legendary" counterpart in the 3.5 core Monster Manual, and they have Ravenloft-specific weaknesses (cold iron and belladonna for the bear, and obsidian and ginseng for the tiger).

A were-coyote would be like a slightly smaller werewolf? Especially given they can actually interbreed, i.e. red wolves. Bears and tigers seem a lot more brute physical than I would expect.

A little bit, yes. I could almost see it if happen to Laeticia - heck, with Jeanne as her "previous life," it's not a bad analogue - but considering that Fiore doesn't like the magus lifestyle, handing her a Twilight Exaltation . . .

Plus, where would it come from? What Godafrid has is essentially a blank - there's no past life or lives to draw on. Whatever Charms or Knacks he has were gifted by the Seldarine; there's no half-recollected experience, or anything like that. And it wasn't made to mirror a Solar Exaltation, so there shouldn't be an automatic bond out there - which is not to say it's necessarily incapable of bonding to one. After all, Hanali was quite upset . . .

Laeticia would definitely seem like a candidate, but again, it might not make sense to stitch exaltation onto Type-moon characters generally, even if it is an interesting analogy with Demi-Servants/Pseudo-Servants.

Yeah - that would be a problem. A neat idea, I agree completely; but an overall problem, given how badly the Abyssal's general Resonance affects things around it, unless I give her background a major overhaul . . . Sacchin as a Dead Apostle is actually easier in that regard.

Aww, but that's half the fun! (okay actually, shoe-horning that standard Abyssal plotline probably does Sacchin a disservice, but the similarities are too obvious to not point it out)

[Kieran]

Good point, I read No Moon as a bit closer to Solar sorcerers than shaman-esque, so that fits better (I'm not first-hand experienced with Exalted, so I'm not 100% sure whether what I find online is accurate)

I know your pain.

Luckily, I managed to track down the Manual of Exalted Power: Lunars book (and the Second Edition core book, without which it would be useless). Lunars, in-setting, are barbarians and nomads - they got exiled to the fringes of civilisation and largely stayed there. As such, I see their sorcerers and lorekeepers as the oral tradition type. It also mentions that every No Moon Caste is capable of magic - I just don't have enough material on Exalted sorcery to really make use of it.

(And as an aside to those who don't know the game, the tattoos were developed because they were so far out of civilisation that they reached the geographical point where reality itself started breaking down, and the energies of the place began interacting with their own shapeshifting powers badly.)

By design, the Lunars were support (albeit subordinate) to the Solars - stewards (one of their nicknames) and chatelaines intended to hold the territories that the Solars conquered. Sometimes that meant being general of the army that the Solar commanded as king; sometimes the muscle meant to complement their sorcerous might. Sometimes, other roles . . . But always, I thought, as the hearth-keeper that makes a house a home.

A were-coyote would be like a slightly smaller werewolf? Especially given they can actually interbreed, i.e. red wolves. Bears and tigers seem a lot more brute physical than I would expect.

True, but bears are also seen as totems of wisdom (apparently, one of the No Moons' more common shapes), as are cats - I just think they tend to mean a smaller cat.

Still, you have a point - even if I'd prefer something a bit more northern . . .

. . . Truthfully, I've been considering an owl - birds are (relatively) easy to do as Lunar shapes, they're Selune's favoured birds, and if you advance one to 2 HD, it graduates to a Small-size creature - which means it's eligible as a lycanthropy template. And wereowls were a thing, apparently, in 2nd edition.

(And so were werelions, werecats, werecougars, weredolphins, werewyverns, werepegasi - and more . . .)

Laeticia would definitely seem like a candidate, but again, it might not make sense to stitch exaltation onto Type-moon characters generally, even if it is an interesting analogy with Demi-Servants/Pseudo-Servants.

My thoughts exactly - though as a power-up for generally powerless characters, like Laeticia, or Ayako (which I actually have considered, way back when . . .). Still, again, the problem of where it comes from is an issue; unless one or more of the Seldarine gets sneaky, there's no source for the Exaltation in the first place.

. . . And all similarities to Autochthon aside, I don't see Erik forging one.

Aww, but that's half the fun!

Well, you're not wrong . . .

(okay actually, shoe-horning that standard Abyssal plotline probably does Sacchin a disservice, but the similarities are too obvious to not point it out)

Again, you're not wrong - if I was doing a Tsukihime/Exalted fusion (characters adapted to the setting), I could definitely see the logic; but in this case, best to leave it be, I think. I want a lighter tone to the Works (or at least, my Works stories) than, say, "Trinity."


(. . . He says, while contemplating that as the setting for his next tale . . . )

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 54: Carnage and Contracts



2:40 PM
Wolf Wing
2,000 Feet Underneath the Wolfen



Erik snarls, as he works rapidly, disabling systems, and sealing other systems off in the Mecha Fafnir MK1.


"Why, oh why didn't I seal this stuff off for liquid damage?!" He grumbles aloud, as he hastily works, jury rigging parts and systems to run, as Mecha Fafnir Mk2 slowly comes to a halt over the Mark 1.


"No, damned stuff isn't liquid, anyways..." He snarls, as he swipes with the prototype lightsaber. "At least this prototype lightsaber can burn the poison away without it affecting me... that knife, on the other hand, that's stuck in the other jet engine is more worrying..."


"Erik! Can you hear me? The Scylla got me into a private call with you!" Mordred's voice reaches him over the phone.


"I hear you, Mordred. You okay for the moment? Doing quick jury rig repairs here, before taking that bitch on a second time." Erik retorts, a growl to his words.


"I... Can you contract with me? Like... Right now—please? I don't have a Master, and though I'm not burning Prana for now... It really is starting to hurt to keep myself here and manifested." Mordred asks, only a faint strain in her voice denoting her troubles.


"...Yeah. Gimme a moment." Erik sighs, pulling up some stuff quickly with one hand, while the rest of his limbs work, even his feet working on a pair of pliers. "Scylla, link to my Hoverpod the remains of the Type-Moon Wiki, or maybe the section from the game, for a Servant Summoning method, to contract with an already summoned Servant..."


Erik's eyes narrow, as he rapidly reads, while his body continues, before nodding, adjusting what he's about to say in his mind as he speaks.


"Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny."


Mordred winces at Erik's words, within the Tumbler, as her eyes go wide, a slight influx of something other than prana pouring into her body.


"If you heed the Grail's call and obey my Will and Reason as a Master of Red!" Erik's voice is laced with POWER as the Cosmoreactor reacts to his will, enhancing his will and mental strength.


"Then answer me!" Erik continues, power pulsating through him, and his Command Spells, as more of his Legend is brought to bear, enhancing his words.


"Do so, and I shall entrust my destiny to your sword!" Erik's voice reaches a climax, as Legend rushes between them both.


Mordred grins at the feeling of Legend coursing through her, linking her to Erik. "On my honor and word as a Saber, I accept your Oath, Erik! I shall be your Servant, and you shall be my Master!"


"Mordred. Seek out and destroy all foes in my Wolfen. Destroy them all, if you can do it, or at least lower the numbers to a suitable degree. As for your blade, Clarent?" Erik pauses, studying an entry on the Type Moon wiki that he'd just stumbled upon, damaged the page though might be. "Clarent, to you, I say this. Get over it. Mordred has more than earned his right to wield you, with what he's doing to make up for his legend. Help your Master properly, and show him what it means to be King Arthur's proper heir. You know that Mordred's made up with Arthur. So show it the willingness to be the Blade of the Heir of Camelot, already!"


Mordred blinks, and then stares at her blade glowing slightly to Erik's words. "What the hell, Master? What...?"


"I'll tell you later, once we've dealt with all this shit." Erik tersely admits. "Deal with the intruders. I've got two mechs to jury rig together, then more fighting to do."


"Understood, Master... and let me tell you, I'm glad you're my Master now!"


The line cuts out moments later and Erik briefly closes his eyes.


"Tch. Unless she plans on becoming human, as well... Things aren't going to last much longer, are they? No matter how I twist things, work them out in my head, I can't find a way to keep her around easily. And with this conflict... It's escalating far too much compared to that game or the anime for Fate/Stay Night..."


Erik sighs, as he gets back to work as fast as he can, linking the two machines together so together, he can get back into the fight.


“Ten minutes left, then we can suffocate her. Let's hope that everyone lasts until then...” Erik murmurs, as he works.



The Wolfen
Observation Room 33



Tamamo sighs, as she enters, carefully looking around, Yata no Kagami at the ready and waiting to be used as a throwing discus. “Jeanne? Are you in here?”


“I'm in here. I turned off the phone thing for a while, to let myself relax. Did I trouble you, coming here by myself?” Jeanne asks, studying the clouds. “I just wanted to watch the sky for a while, and then we took off. Then I just got lost in thought, watching the clouds outside...”


“I've been running around searching for you, yes. Jack the Ripper's underneath the Wolfen, the last I heard from my Husband... And five hundred Dragon's-Tooth Warriors are on board the ship.” Tamamo admits.


“I see. Thank you for telling me this. Have you any idea why I couldn't hear a warning about it?” Jeanne asks, as she manifests her armor and her weapon, turning to face Tamamo.


“You managed to find the one Observation Room that had malfunctioning speakers to relax in, unfortunately enough. And with the phone off...” Tamamo trails off in thought, before pulling out the Yata no Kagami.


“What's wr—ah, enemies, hm?” Jeanne narrows her eyes. “They're hunting for us?”


“I suspect they're hunting for everyone, to be honest.” Tamamo admits, her ears carefully listening. “I can't hear them well, but they're somewhere nearby?”


“Indeed, they are. It sounds to be a great many, as well. But it's irritating how the sound is muffled, almost as if... Fog is disrupting the sound.” Jeanne trails off, her eyes narrowing, as she adjusts her spear, and the flag upon it.


“Scylla! Warn Mordred and Archer that they're coming for Jeanne!” Tamamo calls out, into her phone. “Get them to here, and hurry!”


“Roger that—ETA one minute!” At the Scylla's words, Tamamo nods, pulling out a shield as well, and pulling it on her arm.


“It's been a while since I've had to fight, and I'm far weaker than before, but this should still hold with my mirror...” Tamamo trails off, glancing around carefully.


“There's so many outside...” Jeanne narrows her eyes. “And yet, it doesn't feel right, either. Like they should be proper Servants, but aren't...”


“Aww.” A chorus of voices responds from outside the room. “So she gets it, huh? We might be weakened, but we're still here to ensure you die for us. You managed to survive the first batch of this poison, but some of us have a nice second dose, just for you!”


Jeanne flinches, going pale in horrified comprehension. “No. Not that again! I won't let you!” Moments later, Tamamo flinches, before looking at her shield carefully, her eyes narrowing.


“I'll cover your back, Jeanne. Keep them off mine, and I'll keep them off yours.” Tamamo smiles, then moves beside Jeanne. “We'll keep safe from them, no worries. Anyways, they'll only be able to come through the front door. We've got a good choke point!”


Jeanne blinks and smiles. “A good point—with you guarding my back, we'll be safe.”


“And my shield should be good against the poison, if nothing else... Though it's likely to break after a few uses, fair warning. It's not good against blows, but it is good against damage that affects the soul, and the poison counts...” Tamamo admits.


The look of hope in Jeanne's eyes brightens into a full on smile. “Then I'm glad that God let me meet you, so we could work together this day, my lady Tamamo! We shall win, and defeat them with our skills!”


Crunch


The sudden sound above them turns their heads upwards, Tamamo's eyes narrowing as she looks that way.


“That's odd... How come is there noise up there?” Tamamo murmurs, trying to remember what was up there—


Then she paled, her eyes widening in horrified understanding.


“Get the door open!” She shouts to Jeanne as she pulls her shield up, right before the roof starts denting over the air ventilation fans in the ceiling. “They've come in a different route than we thought!”


“Scylla, do you read me?! Get Mordred here, now!” Tamamo shouts.


“They're on the other side of the door, Tamamo!” Jeanne calls back. “Are you sure?!”


“We're like rats in a cage, Jeanne! We need to make a breakthrough! They're moving through the work tunnels for the Ragnarok Contingency systems that were never fully finished!” Tamamo shouts, as the fan gets punched through by a dagger, gleaming with poison, before she throws her mirror, sending the owner of the hand back up to kill whoever was holding it.


“Understood—I'll try to break through!” Jeanne calls out, as Tamamo works, desperately trying to hold back a slowly increasing number of Dragon's-Tooth Warriors trying to break in from above.


Ka-whump


The sight of part of a wall crashing down, Jack the Ripper behind it grinning as she lands on top of the wall. “Here's Jack!” Tamamo desperately throws her mirror, decapitating Jack the Ripper, then blinks in confusion as the Yata no Kagami slams back into her hand.


Ka-whump


Ka-whump


Ka-whump


Three more chunks of wall fall, edges sizzling from poison, with Jack the Ripper standing on each part, as they announce themselves the same way, grins on their faces.


Tamamo rolls back, throwing her mirror again and again, trying to send them back. Even as she decapitates them, though, more keep coming, through the holes in the walls, and the ceiling. “Hurry up with the door, please!”


“I'm trying! It's like it's stuck!” Jeanne calls back.


“Then switch off with me while I look at it!” Tamamo calls out, and then pulls back before turning to look. The sight leaves her tail's fur standing straight on end, as she realizes what's going on.


“How?” She turns back, looking at the Jack the Ripper clones.


“How?” They reply in sync, grins on their faces. “How what?”


“How did you get all of that stuff behind the door, to hold it shut? That shouldn't be possible!” Tamamo shouts.


They simply smile back at her, slowly working to come in, ignoring losses. “You lead us here, after all! Thanks for that!”


Tamamo goes white in horrified understanding. “Your stealth was so good that I missed you following me?!”


“And us carrying shipping containers to ensure your doors stay shut, and keep you in, yes!” They respond, in sync.


Tamamo's eyes narrow, as Jeanne attacks them, assaulting them with her flag in one hand, and sword in the other. “Hold them off, Jeanne! I just need a few moments!”


Jeanne simply nods, as she throws herself into the fray, doing her best to protect Tamamo and defeat the foes before her, as Tamamo roots through her pockets.




The Wolfen
Outer Transportation Tunnels



Mordred frowns, as she guns the engine for her Tumbler, listening to its engine roar, as well as a yelp from EMIYA as he's forced to hold on rather than shoot.


One hand follows instructions being shown to her, on how to reload the micro-missile launcher for the roof, while the other steers the vehicle, her eyes narrowed as she thinks over things—both on the current situation, as well as her situation with Clarent.


Idly, she adjusts things, almost on automatic, changing her vehicle's course as it casually drives over the remains of a vehicle that had been destroyed earlier in the transportation tunnels.


By one of the Dragon's-Tooth Warriors, or was it perhaps something else? She really can't tell.


Finally, she looks down at Clarent with one eye, while driving carefully, and speaks up quietly.


“Oi. I'm not sure how sentient you are. I just know you're my sword. But... You've been holding back on me, huh? I suppose I get it.”


For a moment, Mordred pauses, focusing on the tunnels, before her attention returns to her sword. “I wasn't worthy of you when I picked you up, was I? I should have earned you, rather than taking you. For that, I'm sorry. I didn't do things as well as I should have, with you. But...Father would never have accepted me as his child, not as things were.”


Mordred swerves, quietly focusing as her senses seem to work in overdrive, twisting and turning the car past chunks of metal left in the outer-most transportation sections of the Wolfen.


“I didn't get you the proper way. But I'm also the only heir that Father ever sired. And Erik is right: I'm working to do better than I was back then. I want to do right by you—right by Father. Right by everyone... and I can't do that without your help, Clarent.” Mordred admits, quietly.


“Please… Even if you hate me, even if you despise me—let me continue trying to make up for my failures to save Father, back then. Let me try to continue to strive to be a proper Knight. One that my father can be proud of! Let us walk together, as friends and partners...Please...” Mordred whispers, quietly baring her soul to her sword, for the first time ever.


The blade responds by way of its glow turning a brighter shade of white, leaving Mordred smiling softly.


“Thank you, Clarent. I'm not sure how well Erik's going to work as a Master, to be honest, long term. Whatever he's using isn't prana, but something else. I'm not sure I'm even fully compatible with it, either... But I want to work with you, properly—as partners. For as long as I can...”


With those words, she guns the engines, pushing the Tumbler to its limits, as she approaches the doorway that the Scylla had ordered her to go to.


Then, she widens her eyes, slowing to a halt, at the sight before them. A massive pile of shipping containers, from the Wolfen's Hangar, lies there, empty. No Dragon's-Tooth Warriors in sight.


“Oi! Archer!” Mordred shouts. “Think you can destroy that without destroying the door?!”


EMIYA studies it, before shaking his head. “No. Not without killing everyone past the door, anyways.”


Mordred nods, and then opens fire, introducing the shipping containers to high powered explosives, and machine guns.


But as the explosions clear, not much has been changed, except some of the shipping containers in the pile reduced to scrap.


“Better start cutting it apart, then, am I right?” Mordred swears, as she pulls herself out and turns the Tumbler off. “You get the right, I'll get the left.”



Under The Wolfen
Central Combat Scaffolding



Jack the Ripper frowns, folding her arms, as she pulls her jacket tight around her legs again.


Her frown deepens, as she watches the last two pairs of Dragon's-Tooth Warriors fail to climb across the armor, and instead slide off. As they do so, just like the first two, they fall immediately; tossing her their Blessed Hydra Venom-coated weapons in case she can use them instead.


“Mommy? None of the Possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors are able to get to me. And the ones that I stop possessing can fly this high up... I'm starting to get worried that I missed something.”


Her mother's voice returns to her, soon enough, leaving her smiling. “Why not deal with it a different way, then, dear? Perhaps you can have better luck using those weapons to cli—wait, no, that's a bad idea. The poison would be stuck in the armor, wouldn't it, and then your poor hands and feet would get poisoned!”


Jack nods momentarily, and then frowns at the realization that her mother can't see her nod. “It's also getting so cold, Mommy. The cloak from Miss Semiramis isn’t working a bit to counter it, either. Worse yet, I can't seem to find any signs of how to get the troops in deeper, except those odd pathways. And those don't lead to any power stations like you told me to look for...”


“Dear, breathe, and focus for me,” Her mother's voice comes back to her, leaving her smiling. “You're doing fine, Jack. Just keep on working for it. I got Mister Kotomine to get me to a place down near where you'll land, once all is said and done, so I can hug you—and if you fail? Then so be it, you'll still have gotten one of them.”
“A hug just for me? As a reward?! Thank you, Mommy! That'll be wonderful!” Jack genuinely smiles, as she continues focusing. “Ah, if you're nearby, can you see a falling mechanical dragon, or two of them?”


It takes a few moments, for her mother to reply, leaving Jack frowning. “I've been here for 10 minutes, and I've seen nothing fall, dear. Fly, towards a nearby lake? Yes. Fall? No. There does seem to be some sort of trouble with the nearby town, though...”


Jack's eyes narrow, as she pulls herself up and looks down. “That's not good. Mommy, how much power do you have left, do you think?”


“I'd guess maybe half left, dear...Why?” Her mother's voice replies, leaving her narrowing her eyes.


“That man didn't die when his machine fell. Another went down after it, letting some of my Possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors to sneak out of the hangar, since most had died in there... But if he didn't crash, then...” Jack trails off, thinking, before flinging herself up and trying to run along the bottom of the massive ship.


Moments later, she slips and falls, frowning, rolling herself back onto the catwalk. “No good, either. I can't escape from this catwalk down here. Mommy, I need you to watch for something, anything in the clouds up above you, below this ship. Okay?”


Her mommy doesn't reply, only sending a warm feeling her way, as Jack the Ripper looks around, paranoia starting to grow. Then, she continues trying to fling herself up to the bottom of the Wolfen, and run along the smooth armor.


“It's no good, it's simply too smooth for me to run on, no matter what I do...” She finally admits aloud, glaring at it. “He's outsmarted me, in keeping me stuck down here...So, maybe I'll have my possessed troops attack his bridge?”


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbHrdNI7yiY (Vs. Ridley ~ Super Smash Bros. Brawl)


“It's not over! Not yet...! Erik's voice echoes, in the clouds, as a barrage of micro-missiles slam into the scaffolding, the explosions sending her flying into one of the electrified poles for a horrific jolt that she can barely push herself away from, her reflexes slightly dulled from the pain and electricity.


“You're not dead yet, then!” Jack shouts, and then turns—and stops, staring. Two mechanical dragons, one holding the other up, are flying in the air, both wings moving to hold them up.


But it's slow—obviously, terribly slow. The things shouldn't be working at all, in her eyes.


“Are you ready for round two?!” The loudspeakers increase in volume, somehow, as Jack's eyes widen.


Then, to her surprise, the machines flip, the claws on the one she had shot down prior, clamping into the Wolfen's under-armor, and digging in, holding it in place above her.


“Seriously? You do recall that I've managed to take your one toy down already, right?!” Jack smiles, a dead smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “This means I just have to take out another!”


A barrage of micro-missiles is her only answer, as she pushes herself to dodge, while throwing scalpels back at Erik's war machines. And yet...


Over the next few moments, she realizes the problems with her assumption that it would be easy, as flame throwers open fire from the second mechanical dragon, melting her scalpels in mid-air and leaving them as falling chunks of metal.


“That's not fair at all! You aren't supposed to have heat weapons on you!” Jack shouts, as lasers carve into her platform, and small missiles explode around her.


“Does it look like I care?! Jack, oh Jack. You poor child.” Erik's voice is smug, as he launches explosives from both tails, leaving her wide eyed, and desperately throwing scalpels at them. “I won't die here, do you hear me?!” Jack screams, as she throws them desperately.


One detonates mid-air, but the explosion obscures her vision, leaving her platform to get hit directly by the other one.


Jack slides, desperately looking around for Erik, her eyes wide. “This was supposed to be an easy second round!” Then her eyes widen further at the realization that his two mechanical dragons aren't where they were before.


Erik chuckles softly, in his cockpit, to her words, right before he grabs the platform from below with Mecha Fafnir MK1's claws, and starts trying to rip it off.


“What?!” Jack screams, as she desperately holds on with one hand, then flinches in pain, as one of the claws nicks her from below. “Why, you...!”


She moves, desperately stabbing at the claws, and the red light thing shining along the inner edge of the claws.


Then she recognizes the light, and flinches as she backs off, realizing that there's lasers, and mirrors on the claws, somehow curving the laser along the metal talons, making the damage they do worse.


“That's not fair to use! You're supposed to fall and die already!” Jack screams, as the platform continues to shake, sections weakening.


Then she pauses, smirking while she flings a poison coated spear at one of the wings.


Erik moves, faster than she thought possible, as he dodges the poison covered spear, leaving it falling through the air.


“So they are still weak points...!” Jack smiles, before she frowns.


“And you're on a giant one, aren't you? Especially with how that loosened the platform you're on, hmm? I'd give it maybe 5, 10 more explosions... or me landing two or three more times, before you fall to your doom!” Erik's voice is smug, as he launches more explosives from both Mecha Fafnir unit's tails at her.


Her eyes widen, as rage flickers within her eyes, as she throws herself into battle, doing her best to shoot down his explosives before they can land.


Back and forth, weapons fly. Scalpels desperately thrown at the larger explosives from the tails, while smaller ones hurt Jack, but don't finish her off, as the two Mechanical dragons fly around the platform, using smoke from explosions to hide from her, and flamethrowers to burn her scalpels when they can't.


Slowly, Jack starts to realize the simple truth. On such a small platform, she can't move as fast as she was before, leaving things even. And her eyes narrow at that truth, as she starts analyzing things more carefully.


After a moment, she smirks as she spots what Erik hasn't. The propellers in the wings of the dragon she's taken down once before, are starting to spark and smoke.


As the realization that her foe's war machines are breaking down, she flings herself to the bottom of the Wolfen, fingers and shoes clinging to the notches in the armor, made by Erik's mecha. Then, she flings herself forwards, launching herself at Erik's cockpit once more.


A wall of ice slams into existence, between her and Erik, crushing her nose against her face as she starts sliding down it. Her one remaining eye goes wide in shock, as she stares at the ice, before she growls, trying to claw around it, or through it.


Then it detonates from a bomb hitting it, and she finds herself being launched back at the platform she was on before, another barrage of micro-missiles heading her way, and kicking up a large amount of smoke in the process.


Jack rolls, desperately pushing herself out of the path of the micro-missiles, as she searches for Erik. But as the smoke clears, he appears to be gone.


Slowly, hesitantly, she lowers her fog, looking desperately for him, as an odd crack sound hits her ears in the distance.


Then, both machines, barely pushing mach 1, slam into her, grab her with claws, and drag her against the lower hull of the Wolfen in an effort to grind her to dust against the Aerial Battleship's lower hull.


Jack screams. There's no word for the agony she's going through, as she feels her toes getting ground off her left leg, and knee rapidly going from scraped to horribly damaged. She screams, and desperately starts slashing at the claws she's held in, with a poison covered knife.


Then the pain stops, as she gets rammed into, then through, one of the electrified poles holding that small scaffolding up.


“Still alive, I see. Well, that can be rectified, now can't it?” Erik's voice echoes, as Jack slowly forces herself up, ignoring her bad knee.


Jack's eyes slowly widen at the sight of ice walls caging her in with the war machine in front of her, before she starts to grin again.


“I'm not locked in here with YOU, YOU'RE LOCKED IN HERE WITH ME!” Jack screams, as she flings herself towards Erik's two war machines.


The melee is brutal, as she desperately tries to carve through Mecha Fafnir MK1's claws, while Mecha Fafnir MK2's flamethrowers steadily drive her back.


Scalpels fly like water, as Jack pushes herself, doing her best to dodge or outright counter everything Erik can fling against her. No quarter offered, none given, as Erik's claws slowly tear up the floor, and the tails are used to slam her back every time she tries to get to his cockpit with a poison coated knife.


Finally, Jack rolls back, growling and coughing into the re-breather. Then she pulls herself up, and flings herself forwards, with a battlecry of “MARIA THE RIPPER!” as she activates her Noble Phantasm once more...


Only to run into a wall of something thicker than the ice she hit before, one arm dislocating as she does so.


“My, oh my. It looks like our game has come to an end, hasn't it?” Erik's voice echoes from behind the wall. “Little problem with running into Pykrete like that, huh? Especially since mine is mixed with metal, rather than wood pulp.”


Jack slowly pulls herself up, forcing her injured arm back into the socket as she does so, then glares at the wall, and the vague form of the two mechanical dragons behind it.


“When I'm done with you...!” Jack growls. Then she starts stabbing and slashing at the wall, slowly carving through.


When she finally breaks through, she kicks the ice, then looks up at Erik, only to go still. The cockpit is open, letting her see him, face to face, and see him waving at her, another wall of ice between them, but this time transparent.


Jack blinks, with her one good eye, staring at him and what has to be some sort of trick, quizzically.


“Bye now!” Erik smirks. “ALL SYSTEMS, FULL POWER!”


Electricity surges through Mecha Fafnir MK1 and 2, divinely imbued lightning from the hoverpod leaving both crackling with lightning, inside and out.


As well as the floor grating Jack's on, as well as the ice walls around her. The cage of ice and metal becomes a cage of lightning, leaving her screaming once more. All the while, Erik's grin deepens.


“And now, you discover the problem of picking a fight with a God, little Jack. We cheat, and ensure Mortals. CANNOT. WIN!” With those words, Erik targets her with divine lightning augmenting the flamethrowers, and opens fire once more.


Jack can't scream, anymore, from the pain. There's no words for how much pain she's in, and yet she cannot scream, as her left foot melts off, and her clothes burn around her. The flames that seem to last forever to her, before they suddenly die off.


“Hmm. The Pykrete melted around you and protected you from some of the heat, hmm? Well, that's irritating, but not enough to stop me from finishing you off...” Erik smirks, launching the war machines for a better angle with the flamethrowers, as both slowly hover back to attack again...


BOOM


Then the wings of Mecha Fafnir MK1 detonate violently, as the boiling poison within, caused by the divinely imbued lightning, finally touches the fuel storage.


“No!” Erik snarls, trying to open fire upon Jack again as the war machine slowly starts falling down, mechanical systems failing in both machines as he falls. “I won't let you get away from me this time!”


Jack rolls, looking at Erik and his war machine, cockpit now closed again. Then, injuries or no, she desperately throws three poisoned weapons from the Dragon's-Tooth Warriors that had resupplied her, at one of the wings. A beautiful smile covers her face, as the wing carves right off, from her hitting a joint perfectly, leaving both dragon machines that had troubled her so, to fly down head first.


Slowly, she looks around for a piece of metal to sew to her leg's stump, to serve as a foot, the smile never leaving her face.


Even as, down below, a hundred and fifty Mecha Fafnir Production Units race upwards to try and save their creator.



The Wolfen
Outside Observation Room 33



“C'mon, we can do this! Just a little more!” Mordred shouts, as she swings again and again with Clarent, EMIYA carving in with Noble Phantasms that she can't identify, but seem to do well against metal.


“Think, Mordred. We haven't heard from them, so rationally, they're holding up well. Just keep the pace up with me.” EMIYA admits. “So long as we keep this pace up, we should be able to save them.”


“Damn it, please, help me out here, Clarent!” Mordred admits, then flinches as the blade glows a silvery white, carving through the metal before her like a hot knife through butter.


Then she smiles, widely, and continues carving in through the one last piece of metal remaining, her Blade's true Noble Phantasm helping her to carve through to the door... and then through, if a bit.


“Oi! We're here to save you, and got the door mostly unblocked! You okay in there?!” Mordred shouts through the door's opening.


“We're alive... and aha! There it was! With this, I can...! Get away from the door!” Tamamo shouts, Mordred and EMIYA following her orders.


Tamamo punches through the door, her body following, a gauntlet with a red aura on her hand, as the Radiant Wave Surger she's wearing carves through the door like a hot knife through butter.


“Jeanne, come on! We have to go!” Tamamo cheerfully shouts, then pauses at only a gurgling behind her.


“Jeanne? What's...” Tamamo turns, then stares in horror, Mordred and EMIYA staring in shock as they finally see as well.


Jeanne D'Arc, impaled with a dozen weapons coated with poison, weakly smiles at her, blood gushing out of her mouth.


“Run... already...! I covered... you, so GO!” With those words, Jeanne turns, power rushing through her body as she focuses on one last Noble Phantasm, then turns to grin with a bloody face at the army of Jack the Rippers, possessing Dragon's-Tooth Warriors around her.


“O' Lord, I entrust this body to you—La Pucelle!”


The voice is horribly garbled from blood coming out of Jeanne's mouth, but they can only stare as Jeanne D'Arc, the Ruler of the Great Grail War, dies, sacrificing herself to destroy the foes coming for those behind her, fires burning away all that come after them.


“Oi! Tamamo! We need to run!” Mordred snaps Tamamo out of her expression of horror.


“What about the girl she was possessing, Mordred! We have to go back for that girl, too!” Tamamo shouts, all Japanese decorum forgotten as she stares at Mordred in horror.


“You don't get it, do you?” EMIYA admits, bowing his head slightly. “She's dead already. The poison alone...” EMIYA trails off, as Tamamo tries to not scream in rage and horror.


Loudspeakers crackle from the Tumbler, leaving them to jerk and look at it. “Do you all read me?! They were blocking sound in there somehow towards the end. The rest of the possessed Dragon's-Tooth Warriors are marching on the bridge, and Erik's been shot down! Chiron is holding, but I'm not sure for how long, and we still have 3 minutes before we can move to the final phase!”


Tamamo flinches outright, at the Scylla's words, as Mordred winces. “It's Erik, right? He'll be fine!”


“Your former Master is holding up okay with Lady Touko, Mordred.” Mordred nods to the Scylla's words, and pulls them all towards the Tumbler, the fighting nowhere near done.



Author's Notes:
You know? I know that Gabriel Blessing gets a lot of hard press, especially from Beast's Lair.


But I remembered reading his “Those Who Love Monsters”, and just... loving the lines he wrote about Horror as a Genre, even if I don't like watching Horror personally.


To quote him? “In horror, everyone can die. No one is truly safe, no one has plot armor so thick they can wade through the story untouched. The main character, the main character's best friend, the chief antagonist; all of them could die. In fact, the greater a person's power, the more invulnerable they appear, the more likely they are to fall. And in horror, even if the final confrontation with the last monster appears to be face to face, there is always another monster waiting hidden in the wings.“


So, before writing this? I settled back, and read all his horror stuff, followed by other horror stuff, while going over Jack the Ripper's abilities carefully, before settling on her assaulting the Wolfen like this. And so, you get this chapter. Where the Wolfen, once thought to be plot armor equal to the Hanging Gardens? Is revealed to just as easily be a cage for the characters to be stuck in.


So we get this part of the clusterfuck.


Erik's burned through 12 out of the 13 legend he had stored, for the uses of Frozen Panoply to cage Jack in. Jeanne is outright dead, and Amaterasu's dead as well. Jack also thinks that Mordred is nearly dead, as well, so she's going to be pissed when she finds that Mordred isn't going to die if she has her way with things.


And Erik found out that pumping divinely augmented electricity through a machine, insides dripping with poison worse than Jormungandr's, is a stupid, stupid idea. On the plus side, said divinely augmented electricity effectively makes all weapons do aggravated damage. On the minus side... he blew himself up in the process.


Because he's been fighting the worst posssible matchup for him in this war, and it shows.