We gave HBM, of all people, access to a morals loosening field
Originally Posted by Faux, December 25th 2019
Senta deserves the right to a life where she gets to choose if she's actually a Nazi
True Rider
A wise and beautiful woman who exudes an aura of grace. She is a sly, cunning, manipulative person who always gets what she wants, whether through trickery or ruthlessness. Her own fighting abilities are low, but she should not be trifled with. What does she ride? Men, of course!
It’s cold. I’m hungry. I guess Nomikata must be hungry as well. After a brief spell of quietness, the snow has begun to fall again. It is a beautiful scene, but it makes the march all the more grueling.
“Javier.” Assassin calls out to me, gesturing with her face. “Look. Over there.”
What she is pointing out is obvious.
“The cave. It’s gone?”
Indeed, the strange cave at the base of the hill is gone, replaced with the straight wall of rock and concrete I am familiar with.
“The cave itself was part of the demon’s Reality Marble,” says Caster.
“I have no fucking idea what that means,” retorts Assassin, Preach it, girl. “I just know that it was gone by the time I arrived…”
She leaves the sentence unfinished, shaking her head before diverting her words into a different direction.
“My guess is that the Chivato captured the Herald after she escaped Archer’s bombardment the day before yesterday. Just so happens it didn’t pick up a damsel in distress this time.”
“So there was really a Chivato?”
“Would you expect anything else in the Chivato’s Cave?” replies Assassin with some humor. Nomikata, who clearly has no idea what we are talking about, listens in careful silence.
“But the Chivato really was…”
“…a bandit gang eventually brought to justice by British sailors, yes. I know the tale; I’ve told it to God-knows-how-many-tourists for a coin. That doesn’t matter.”
“The fear of a demonic monster was already ingrained in the mindset of the Valpos of that time,” adds Caster. “It became an urban legend, a thread in the weave that is the local folklore, and a symbol of people’s fears. That is enough to create a demon, especially in this singularity.”
The one to meet us upon arriving to the Hotel Brighton at the top of the cliff is…who is this guy again?
Whoever he is, he pretty much stomps past the rest of us to clasp Nomikata’s shoulders with big, strong hands, patting the snow off them for good measure.
“You all right?”
The redhead seems the most surprised by the rough-looking man’s very honest concern. He seems to need a moment to get a grasp of the situation, which only seems to accentuate the bearded man’s concern. A moment later, Nomikata settles down and allows himself a proper smile.
“…yeah, I’m good. Good to see you, Marco.”
You can almost see the worry expelled by the other man’s exhalation.
“Good.” You really cannot judge a man from appearances. This “Marco” is a Mom.
“You too?”
A guttural chuckle.
“As much as I can be.” His expression hardens in an instant; only his eyes show a deep sense of loss. “You already know she is…?”
“…yeah.”
Right then and there, two men share a Moment. Caster’s pupils are dancing; she is digging every second of this. Assassin has the weirdest look on her face, like she has figured out some great mystery. Her attention however drifts to a second approaching figure, one I recognize.
“Welcome back, Liria,” greets the physician before she notices me staring. “Javier. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Um, yeah. You too.”
I want to ask about Oliver Drake, but Fiore first feels the need to greet the newcomers. Nomikata, too, has stepped ahead of the man named Marco.
“Good morning. My name is—”
“Fiore Forvedge,” completes Nomikata, taking the hand Fiore was already offering. The man has turned up the charm to eleven. “Your reputation precedes you, miss.”
It’s actually quite something to watch—there’s some real effort in making a good first impression, right there. Fiore’s gentle smile brightens somewhat.
“My, yes, I guess it does,” she says before a giggle. So, is she truly flattered, or is she just indulging the man?
In either case, Marco approaches the two, again planting a strong, protective hand on Nomikata’s shoulder before properly introducing the two. I can only stand a few steps away while they handle their introductions and pleasantries.
“While the virgin Javier avoids the social scenario by choosing to put a distance from others, the chad Seigi thrives in drawing the attentions of both genders.”
“What’s with that ridiculous narration?” I complain to the small Servant standing by my side. Caster is in fact chuckling next to her, and is the small Servant in question blowing raspberries at me?
“Aren’t you a little too forward?”
“Deal with it,” replies the smirking Servant who I guess is in fact a girl, like Maria. This person…
“So, I take it we really knew each other at some point.”
Don’t think I can’t see you eavesdropping, Caster. And now Assassin is mock-pouting.
“You remember Lily but still don’t remember me?” She melodramatically turns her face away. It’s like something out of a Telemundo soap opera. “So this is how it feels to be lacking as a woman.”
That’s a terrible thing to say. Oh, she’s jumped back to smiling, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Well, it’s not that surprising; we only met for a…no, make that two days.”
She chuckles, and I am left cross-eyed when a gentle hand pats my cheek. What’s with women getting all touchy-feely today?
“Yet that was enough for me never to forget you.”
I…am not sure what to say to that. It is in a way auspicious that the rocking of distant explosions grabs everyone’s attention.
“Things are heating up over there,” comments Assassin, who is impressive in her mood swings. Now she looks and sounds all business.
“Is it Maria?” inquires Fiore, and several of us nod at that.
“And Archer,” I add. I am probably not the only one who can recognize the terrifying sounds of Archer’s devastating barrage.
“Hmm. Even with…’The Maid’,” continues Assassin, who obviously intended to say something else but couldn’t. “It’s still gonna be a tough one. And that’s just—oh shit!”
Now everybody is definitely staring at Assassin, who instead is looking at nowhere with a face of consternation.
“I’m getting something—my Zombievision, you know. We gotta hide; they’re sending out the drones.”
That’s enough cue for everybody to hurry inside the hotel building.
“But Rider’s already dead!”
“They’re machines, Javier.”
“Mystic Codes, Liria.”
“Shush you,” Assassin barks back at Caster. “Anyway, anybody can use them if they have magical power and read the goddamn manual.”
“I presume that, in Rider’s absence, we are now dealing with Miss Ortrud.”
“That’s Megaboobs, right?”
“Yes, dear Liria. ‘Megaboobs’.”
While I can only exchange bemused looks with Nomikata and everybody else, Assassin scoffs.
“Don’t you fucking patronize me with that ‘holier-than-thou’…oh, now what?”
“What is it?” Marco and Nomikata speak almost simultaneously.
“Is Berserker…?” Caster sound dismayed by the sheer possibility, but Assassin shakes her head, voluminous twin-tails swaying to and fro.
“No, it’s nothing like…it’s the priest. You know, Father German-name-I-can’t-fucking-pronounce.”
What?
“He just…he just came out of the church. What the hell is he up to now of all times—aw, fuck, when it rains it pours! The trucks are coming out, packed with soldiers!”
It’s like listening to a radio broadcast. We are huddled like a football team around Assassin, who is reporting the enemy’s movements in real time.
“I hear tanks. Yup, the tanks are coming out, too. One…no, two of them—ah, there he is! Berserker’s coming at the back of the convoy—oh, the fucker set up a goddamn throne on the back of a truck.”
Seriously.
“The road from there is a bit bumpy, so it’ll take them a few minutes to reach Errázuriz, but—ah fuck!”
Caster moves faster than anybody else, catching Assassin before she slumps and falls down, her knees having given in. Assassin is wincing and covering her face with one of her monstrous hands.
“Liria!”
“Something took out my familiar. Fuck, I couldn’t even see it.” She grunts. “Wait, I’ll move another one closer—”
“Pull them back. All of them,” interjects the guy called Marco. “No point risking your valuable familiars at this point. If they have trucks and tanks, we’ll hear them coming.”
Assassin hesitates for a moment, but accepts the logic.
“Got it. So, anybody got a plan?”
Yeah, that’s kind of the issue isn’t it?
We all look at each other. We are all nothing short of strangers, but we are inescapably together in this. On the plus side, we’ve got two Servants. On the minus side, they have tanks, rockets and machineguns.
Things look rough. To say the least.
Time for Choices
Berserker has finally come out, and he is on the hunt. What will Javier do?
1. Plan an offensive engagement against Berserker and his forces. 2. Make a defensive stand against Berserker and his forces. 3. Hurry to look for Father Scherer and get him out of harm’s way. 4. Go after Maria and The Maid. 5. Go into hiding. If they want to hurt him, first they’ll have to find him (Write-in: Where in the heck?). 6. Write-in.
ONLY if selecting options 1 or 2 above, choose from the following:
A. Develop a plan that keeps us all together. B. Develop a plan in which we split into teams working in tandem for the common goal.
Let's heroically rescue the priest only to awkwardly realize that he didn't need to be rescued!
Originally Posted by Faux, July 20th 2019
We gave HBM, of all people, access to a morals loosening field
Originally Posted by Faux, December 25th 2019
Senta deserves the right to a life where she gets to choose if she's actually a Nazi
True Rider
A wise and beautiful woman who exudes an aura of grace. She is a sly, cunning, manipulative person who always gets what she wants, whether through trickery or ruthlessness. Her own fighting abilities are low, but she should not be trifled with. What does she ride? Men, of course!
“Alright, maid, I don’t like you and you don’t like me—”
“I do not particularly dislike you. You merely happen to be burdened with a repugnant feature. If I have to give an example: no matter how good a person one may be, it is hard to not feel a measure of revulsion at the sight of a leper.”
“You’re the fucking worst, did you know that?”
“From the barbaric Dancer’s priestess, I will take that as a compliment.”
“Aaah, whatever. We gotta work together on this. I’ll rush her, grab her attention. You cover me and try to get Nazi girl out of her mouth. Let’s go!”
The Maid barely gets the time to roll her eyes when Maria rushes forward without taking a no for an answer. The Hound of Hel is at its wariest, however, and the very hint of Maria’s charge sets it in motion, retreating with speed and fluidity belying its great bulk. It is the speed and power that defeated Lancer Lily.
“Fast! Holy shit!” Maria exclaims, coming to a halt where the Herald just stood, while the beast has all but crossed the full length of the plaza. By this time, it is obvious to everybody present that the Hound is in fact protecting the girl bleeding to death in its mouth. Its eyes dart madly from maid to swordswoman to sniper, trusting not a single one of them.
“Shit…this is gonna be rough—wah-wah-wah!”
Maria jumps around like a frightened cat at the sound of weapons clashing right behind her ears. Blades of light fall vertically in time to intercept Archer’s sword-shaped arrows aimed at Maria’s back.
“You will have to excuse me,” speaks The Maid, addressing the Servant behind and above her. “But right now I need her to get rid of that lurking Tyrant for me.” She quickly turns to Maria. “And you, girl. What makes you think we could work together in any way?”
It is with an almost insultingly blasé hand gesture that she handles the matter of the Herald of Fimbulwinter.
“
Enkidu
Chain of Cursed Heaven
.”
The air ripples even as it is filled with a dire presence. Maria barely has time to glare at The Maid when loathsome black chains surge out of some other-space, darting around the Hound’s great bulk to capture it in a second.
“There. You are no Fenrir and this is no Gleipnir, but it will do.”
“Hey, maid. The hell’s with that,” Maria demands while assisting somewhat in the interception of Archer’s attacks. “I feel Saver really wants to rip you a new one right now.”
“Really,” muses The Maid while impeding another arrow barrage with a wave of her hand. “Did not take that one for the sensitive sort—!”
Everyone watches The Maid falter and take a hasty step forward unless she falls face flat on the ground. Flashes of golden brilliance engulf her and her surroundings, blowing away all of Archer’s attacks while she takes a neutral look at the cut on her left thigh.
“Hmm.”
“He’s picking up the pace, yeah.” It sounds matter-of-factly, but Maria is really working hard batting away everything that would otherwise impale her. Meanwhile, the Hound struggling against the ominous chain wrapped in unhallowed energy also falters and drops to the ground, its great form shrinking and changing. Even then, as it changes from giant beast to scarred woman, it devotes its efforts to preventing Senta from suffering a nasty fall.
“Oh, it changed back.”
“With your might, you should have been able to break out of those chains,” declares The Maid as it takes the first steps towards the Herald. “The fact you could not shows the fragility of that transformation. You should not be able to assume your true form with that Saint Graph.”
Even in the form of a girl, the Herald growls at the approaching woman, slim hands gripping Senta’s bloodied form.
“Sure, take your fucking time!” Maria barks out a ways away. The separation between The Maid and Maria does not seem to have an effect on Archer’s rate of fire at the two, but it apparently diminishes the support Maria has thus far received from the Alter Ego. “Fuck you!”
Surrounded by the cacophony of countless blade-like arrows striking everywhere around her, The Maid calmly brings herself down to her knees in front of the Hound of Hel. Her profane Noble Phantasm, empowered by a great hero’s dying curses, is dismissed at this moment, releasing its now enfeebled prey.
“Guardian of Helheimr, greatest among hounds. This girl is my daughter. Please allow me to heal her, and you.”
She waits not for a response, and cares not when the Herald, diminished but not defeated, rises to both hands and knees, as if not yet aware, it has turned back into a girl. The Maid rests both hands on Senta’s chest, caved in by a terrifyingly powerful impact.
(BGM STOP)
“Be careful,” murmurs The Maid an instant before the Herald looks up in alert. Maria doesn’t get to do that, but does not need to either.
It crashes in the midst of the square turned battlefield like a fallen meteor, engulfing the place with concrete dust, snow dust, and resounding noise. Maria leaps with a war cry, both to regain visibility and to put some distance from whoever just crash-landed on Sotomayor Square.
Unfortunately, the cage is already set.
“
Agade Hula
The Cursing of Akkad
.”
“Uwah—!” is the last to be heard of Maria Westinghouse as she is swallowed by the growing bounded field—a hemispherical wall of opaque fog that claims most of the square’s surface area.
However, it is Maria and only Maria that is taken into the mysterious field. Servant Archer, the Herald of Fimbulwinter and The Maid—who has not even bothered to look up, rather choosing to focus on Senta—all remain outside, having been transported to the edges of Sotomayor Square, outside the volume of the unleashed bounded field.
“Not even a greeting,” murmurs The Maid. “It was most certainly not me who taught him such poor manners.”
She stands up after those words, although some sort of magical effect is still acting upon the fallen Senta.
“Leave the spell run its course, guardian hound. Do look after her while I am engaged, if you may.”
The words are not necessary—the Herald is already by Senta’s side, scarred face further marred by a deep frown even as she watches the wrecked flesh slowly stitching itself back into a coherent whole. The Maid leaves, vanishing in a scattering of firefly-like motes of golden light, but only for an instant, for she reappears on the opposite side of the square where Archer still stands, looking down on the scene with its severe gaze.
“It appears Avenger has selfishly decided how this is going to proceed.”
“Why are you now protecting the hound?” Archer’s voice is deep, yet resounding, as if it came from an even larger man.
“Circumstances have changed. Therefore, I have to reassess the ritual from every angle. Within the current timeline of events, it is inconvenient to me if any other Servant dies before the Holy Tyrant is stopped. Furthermore, if I let you kill the Hound of Hel, you will then rejoin the Tyrant and assist him. I cannot allow you to do that, not before the Amalgamate of Souls encounters Berserker.”
A small ball of flame, the size of a baseball, floats above Archer’s head. As it grows, its color shifts along the visual spectrum.
“So, you intend to stop me here, until when?”
The Maid gestures vaguely in the direction of the hemispherical wall of fog.
“At the very least, until a winner is decided in there.”
As it reaches the size of an oven, the ball of flame has taken a pristine white. Archer is by now enveloped in a haze of vaporized snow, sublimated by the vicinity to the accumulation of heat and power.
“You believe you can match the might of a true king for that long?”
Were the words from the likes of Saver, The Maid would have snorted. Instead, she playfully twirls her long hair over her shoulder.
“What is king to a god?”
A bow as tall as he appears in Archer’s hands.
“You are no god I worship.”
He raises it over his head, and the ball of flame is reshaping itself into an arrow until a rapier of light that emerges out of thin air pops it like a cheap balloon.
“That right there is your mistake, then. And please, do spare me the theatrics; if you needed such buildup to unleash your power, you would not be half the threat I know you are.”
The air around The Maid ripples, disturbed by swirls and waves of gold. Archer stares from his higher ground, ever impassive and unmoved by taunts.
The Maid blinks.
An arrow that was not there before shoots from behind Archer into the vast grey sky.
“
Indrastra
O Indra, Submit Your Might to My Command
.”
A moment later, that same sky is filled with myriad shining points like stars.
“
Height of Babylon
The Blossoms of Mankind’s Wisdom Are The Treasures of Heaven
.”
Sotomayor Square is flooded with light. Photonic clumps each shaped like a unique, distinct weapon. Golden masses in the shape of swords, maces and axes; spears, daggers and sickles. The ever-smirking Maid meets the challenge in the sky piece by piece.
“Make sure to properly aim those arrows straight at me, Archer.”
Her beautiful irises emit a baleful, crimson glow.
“I have no tolerance for those who make a mess in my garden.”
Quest Master's Notice
I will leave on a trip starting tomorrow, and I cannot promise any updates next week. Until next time.
Last edited by Daneel Rush; November 8th, 2019 at 10:07 PM.
“I’m going after Father Scherer,” I declare faster than even I expected. I did not really have to put any thought into this, and the reason is obvious. “It kinda pisses me off, but I have a debt to that man I’ll never be able to repay in my life. I’m not letting any Nazi fuckers do anything to him.”
Silence follows those words. I hope it helps make my point clear. This is what I’m doing, with or without these people.
“Now that’s more like it,” murmurs a smiling Assassin to my side. What’s that even supposed to mean? And why is everybody nodding like you’ve all reached an agreement without me?
“Oh, looks like we have a plan, then?” Caster pronounces.
“As much as I’d like to, I can’t join you,” Marco says. “I don’t know how well he can withstand the cold with his magecraft…and I do not trust his mental state at the moment. I’d rather keep him in one place; watch him so he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Fine,” Fiore replies. “I wish I could do more for Mr. Drake, but I think I could be more helpful with Javier his time.”
“You sure?” Marco ponders. “I mean—”
“Now, now, I can take care of myself, you know~?” the ever-cheery woman retorts with a mock-pout, but any further lightheartedness is broken by the rumbling from further west. Some sort of fog cloud rises to envelop the whole of distant Sotomayor Square.
“The hell is that?”
“A bounded field,” replies a frowning Nomikata like I’m supposed to understand that. “No, a Reality Marble?”
“Hard to tell from here,” Fiore comments. Caster then steps forward.
“That is Avenger’s Noble Phantasm.” I remember that term. Maria explained that to me. Something like a Servant’s “signature move”? “It is spontaneous High Thaumaturgy. As powerful as an Innate Bounded Field, but Avenger was not a magic user.”
“Yeah, I’m sure all that magi-babble is cool and all, but we hafta get moving?” Assassin points out. Heck, I’m already moving—there is something I have to do, and I sure as hell do not mind getting away from that.
*** ***
Streets of Concepción Hill, Valparaíso Sheer cold (-38°C/-36°F) Snowfall
The gloomy sky shone with myriad points like stars. The ground glowed, wreathed in gold as if to match the ever-present cerulean aurora.
Then the sky fell. The golden light rose to meet it. And everything became explosions.
“What in the fuuuuck!?” Assassin’s scream can barely be heard. We press ourselves against the wall of a house, as if that could result in anything but the wall dropping on us. It’s almost telling that I can still feel the rumblings of my empty stomach even as the disrupted air currents around us make my body shake. Or perhaps it’s just the cold and I’m shivering.
“If I may hazard a guess, it seems the Lady Maid has engaged Archer.”
“A guess? Can’t you, like, divine what’s going on or whatever?” Assassin asks (shouts) of Caster.
“Oh, do I look like I carry any divination tools with me?”
“Would be rather messy to carry animal innards with you all the time, ufufu~”
Why does Fiore look like she is having way too much fun?
“Oh, no, I personally favor necromancy.”
“Right, the liminal nature of gender ambiguity. By taking the female trappings, you adopt the traditional conciliating role of women that facilitates peaceful interaction with the remnants of the dead.”
For those words, Nomikata gets the undivided attention of both Fiore and Caster. Fiore seems to be looking at the Brit with completely new eyes, while the Servant is simply delighted. Nomikata does not seem to revel in the attention this time, glancing away in discomfort like the nerdy schoolkid who just outed himself to his new classmates. None of my business, really.
“Um, I had a very good teacher.”
“Oh, truly wonderful!” Caster is actually clapping.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s wonderful, but can we get moving!?”
“Way ahead of you!” I yell at Assassin and the other people I’ve already left behind. Assassin has Servant super-stealth powers, but there is no point in the rest of us trying to be sneaky. Our bulky, dark winter garb contrasts too starkly with the snow in the first place. They would be some really shitty drones if they fail to find us.
The battle between Servants is several blocks away, but it still feel like we are running in the midst of an air raid. Low-pitched, humming explosions rock the air, shaking nearby unbroken roof tiles. Distant flashes of intense light color the sky and force us to keep our heads low to avoid painful blindness. The idea that two people alone can unleash such madness is terrifying. One of them is The Maid—the person who created this frozen world, and my teacher in the magical world. That…does not precisely make me feel proud.
Trying to hurry in these cold and snow-covered streets is a grueling challenge, especially when moving uphill. My stomach constantly reminds me that I have not eaten in a long time; the rough environment only exacerbates the effect of deprivation. Man can survive a considerable time without food, but not in these conditions.
“Creepy Nazi drones at eight o’clock!”
Five of them. We notice their swift flight just before they split, two of them flying northwards…!?
“They’re gonna reach him before us!”
“Do you think I don’t know that!?” shouts back Assassin. “How do they even know…?”
“They don’t,” explains Caster. “Miss Ortrud is a smart woman. She has seen us moving in this direction, so she assumes there is something worth checking out there.”
“Well, what do we do now?” Nomikata.
“You could start with taking down those!” proposes the ever-smiling Fiore. Nomikata frowns at that.
“Even if I knew their composition, I can’t use my nigredo at…I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
Fiore’s smile becomes the slightest bit wider. I am obviously missing some sort of context here.
“Less talking, more fightin—!”
Assassin’s demand is muted when the three drones coming at us are…pelted by snowballs? We all turn towards the source of this rather pathetic bombardment.
“Um, Caster, points for initiative, but I don’t think that gonna—!”
The clear sounds of breaking metal pull us back to the drones, which crash almost by our feet. The snowballs that struck home have become piercing icicles that speared through the Plexiglas-or-whatever transparent material that makes their hemispherical heads.
“You told me you don’t know any attack magic!”
“I do not,” Caster calmly responds to Assassin’s accusation. “That was simple mass acceleration followed by structural reorganization of a simple substance. Textbook alchemy.”
“She’s right you know.” I can’t stop myself from quipping.
“I don’t! I’m not one of you magic bozos!”
“There, there.”
We all turn to Fiore, who is patting Nomikata’s shoulder and consoling him for some reason?
“I can’t believe I didn’t react faster…” he seems to be muttering. “And why is it her voice scolding me in my head of all people…?”
Caster is frowning at the scene.
“Oh, should you not be…?”
Right, Father Scissors!
“Javier!” I hear Assassin shouting at my back, as I again am the first to hurry forward. There are two more of those drones, so I’ve gotta…!
“Guh…” I grunt as I push myself to flick the inner switch while on the run, the familiar sensation of being soaked in boiling water almost making me falter in my steps, but I didn’t get this far without getting used to the cost of wielding my magical power.
Status Change
Magic circuits active.
“Damn it, Javier!” Assassin appears to my side because of course she has no trouble catching up. “I’m also here, ya know?”
I allow myself the briefest glance. She did not sound angry and, indeed, she is smiling. Well how reliable. I know Senta sent that single zombie to the Drakes’, but I can still blame you for the first attacks, ya know?
A flash of lightning and a rising cloud of vaporized snow stop my heart for a moment. The drones have that kind of weapon!?
Assassin too looks alarmed.
“I-I’m going ahead!” She exclaims before leaping from street to rooftop with enviable ease. Fiore, Caster and Nomikata follow a distance behind, obviously having seen and heard the same threat (I can’t help but notice Caster runs at “normal human speed”). I can’t afford to wait for them; if Assassin fails to take the two drones out before I make it there, then I’ll have to act right away!
The heat previously faint in the depths of my body surges outward with scary haste, released by my pores as a mantle of flames that does not harm my clothes. The scent of smoke and ash fills my nostrils and the pyroclastic cloud envelops me without hampering my vision. It is as if the power cannot be wholly contained by my body, and now manifests in a manner similar to Maria’s and The Maid’s golden auras.
Status Change
Sthūla-Śarīra in effect. Pyroclastic Nimbus Manifestation in effect. Warmth: Stable -> Optimal
It’s amazing. It’s exhilarating. It’s fulfilling, and encouraging. The flame longs to be used, and urges me to unleash it, making me feel like there is no obstacle I cannot reduce to ashes. I still feel the urgency of the threat to the old man, but I cannot stop the smirk growing in my face. How can I possibly say no to this? How can anybody expect me to reject this feeling of power, this certainty that I can do anything?
I rush into the adjacent street right after a sound of metal crashing into concrete. I vaguely catch sight of Assassin crouching over the bent and crushed form of a drone—what the hell did she do to it? Was that just her Servant strength? Not that it matters; where is the other—
I gasp when I feel rather than hear the second drone zipping around the corner, a corner marred by collapsed homes. Right, we are very close to where the Drakes’ home once stood. This whole place was obliterated by Rider’s flying saucer. No sight of Father Scissors; that’s probably a good thing. I’m taking out this thing right now!
I do not know the best way to use this power—how could I? Nevertheless, I do not need to. The flame guides me, its wordless whispers pulling my body towards decisive action. A fist-sized lump of debris is the only weapon I need in hand, now glowing enveloped in divine flame.
I was a decent pitcher when they made me play in high school.
*** ***
Seigi Nomikata’s body jolts the moment the man way ahead of him spontaneously combusts. To his right, he notices Fiore’s similar reaction. He does not know what Javier himself feels, but the sensation of sheer otherness that emerges along with that flame is as undeniable as it is inevitable.
The girl, Maria, feels wholly like a Servant. So does Liria, save for the most unfortunate stench of death that surrounds her. Javier is different. When he reveals that flame, it feels unwelcome, a feeling of mismatch that reminds Seigi of the concept of the uncanny valley.
It makes him wary. Even as Javier does something as mundane as picking a piece of debris off the ground, Seigi fears that flame will turn against them at any moment.
Javier Lucero is not a bad person. This much Seigi can tell. His honest intent to help this priest person tells his as much. However, Lestari Elliwyn is also not a bad person, and she was a mere step away from committing a monstrous mistake. Whatever it means to become a “Human God”, the temptation of its power drives anybody with the slightest modicum of ambition to deplorable deeds.
Now that Lancer Lily is gone, it comes to Seigi Nomikata to stop the birth of a Human God.
“May you never be forced to bear the weight of hypocrisy, my rowdy students.”
Seigi frowns at the unbidden memory; the words of his departed teacher, spoken the last Christmas Eve. Aoi was certainly not pleased to be counted among Lily’s apprentices, but the meaning of those words never took shape in his head. Why did he remember that just now? And why is Javier making a pitcher’s throwing motions?
“Get down!”
He notices Fiore trying to push him down without success. Instead, he lets himself fall on his butt, the vagrant heiress of Forvedge squeaking as she slips and lands uncomfortably on his lap. Not that they have in in themselves to mind, for the thunderous explosion just around the corner claims their attention like a bomb that just went off. Seigi and Fiore look at each other with measured uncertainty, but eventually stand up (with help from Caster) and clear the remaining distance to the impromptu battlefield.
Fiore shudders, wrapping herself with her own arms. Seigi is more familiar with this sensation, from back at the church where he first met Javier.
Menace. Imminent threat. This flame is no good.
This flame wants to kill us.
Javier is not looking at them. He stares at the wrecked heap of one of them drones, missing a good part of its bulk, and what remains is literally spilling on the snowy ground. The remains of the metal chassis are melting, the flame in that fastball now attached to the lump of broken metal and circuitry, unrelentingly unmaking it. Javier smirks, wholly satisfied at the job well done. The flames create an unwholesome gleam in his unusual purplish irises, and for a moment, he looks less like a man and more like a burning effigy to some blasphemous deity. His still form remains fixated on the burning heap, and neither Seigi nor Fiore are sure they want him to notice them.
We can handle this, a troublesome voice not his own reassures Seigi. She is right, probably, but for how much longer?
Javier’s posture shifts slightly, and Seigi instinctively takes a defensive stance. Fiore, too, sets herself up as if ready to bolt. The woman might have renounced the life of a magus, but instinct never goes away.
“
¡Viejo!
Old man!
” shouts Javier in his native Spanish. His voice is vibrant and good-humored. “
¡Eres como una maldita cucaracha; se que estás por aquí!
You’re like a damn cockroach; I know you’re around!
.”
As he speaks and his posture relaxes, the fire fades and the oppressive, hostile sensation triggering all of Seigi’s and Fiore’s mental alarms disappears as if it had never existed. Caster, who seemingly was never worried in the first place, walks past the two and past Javier to check on Liria. By this point, their cautious postures look a bit silly.
Yet they simply cannot relax.
“Mr. Nomikata, what is he?” whispers the former magus.
A threat.
Seigi Nomikata clicks his tongue as his own wary thought.
“A troublesome Sealing Designation asking to happen, Miss Forvedge.” He then remembers he is a dapper British gentleman. “And please, from you, Seigi is just fine.”
Of course he is, but I still feel myself sigh in relief.
There he is, walking out of a ruined building looking like he could take on the whole damn Fourth Reich by himself. Even if he looks like that, Ricardo Scherer would not hurt a fly. Or so I thought. If he could hide the whole damn magical world from me, who knows what else I don’t know about the old man.
“Javier…” Oh, don’t give me that shit. We just saved your life; you don’t get to give me the look of disappointment right now.
“You okay, old man?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He murmurs. And now he’s patting my shoulders—oh God, this is Marco and Nomikata all over again, no wonder it looked familiar. “Just a bit cold.”
That’s what passes for a joke from this guy.
“And you are safe and healthy. Praised be the Lord. What a fortuitous meeting.”
“Yeah, it was not quite a coincidence,” interjects the approaching Assassin, switching to English likely for the sake of Fiore and Nomikata. “Hey, Father.”
Of course, the poor old man is taken aback by the girl’s monstrous appearance—in lack of a better word. Of course, he does not hesitate to approach her.
“You are…Rosa Colhuán’s girl,” he says, also switching to English as if it were the natural thing to do. Not that I didn’t know he is fluent in a number of languages besides Spanish. “What…who did this to you?”
“Whoa, hands off the demon arms, Father,” the small blonde shifts away before Father Scherer can reach for one of her gross, fly-like limbs. “Just, to be safe, okay? I mean, you a man of the cloth, so…I mean, we can talk if we got time, but, um, it’s, I’m okay.”
Even if her voice and words carry uncertainty, her smile is calm and her gestures dismissive of the priest’s worry.
“I’m stronger than this thing.”
“Then, your mother…”
Assassin shakes her head.
“Dead. The Nazis killed her before this cold could.”
The old man sighs mournfully, and anybody can tell he sees this as a personal failure for whatever reason. For he is a man who wishes he could reach out and save every single person in this city to which he has dedicated his life.
“
Dale, Señor, el descanso eterno
Lord, grant her eternal rest
…”
“
Y brille para ella la luz perpetua
And may eternal light shine upon her
,” both Assassin and I reply in unison, me driven by force of habit, her by truthful respect. The priest mutters a few additional words for Rosa Colhuán’s soul beneath his breath before making the sign of the cross.
“…amen.”
At that, he straightens. He takes only a sparing glance at the others (perhaps stopping a moment too long on Caster) before affixing his firm gaze on Assassin and me.
“There are many things I would like to ask, but first and foremost I need help. The Lady Edelfelt needs medical assistance.”
What…?
“You mean Sakura!?” Four different people say four different variations of that.
“Oh?” Somehow, this makes Caster the most eloquent of us all.
The abrupt change is the worst. Maria feels the last wisps of cold lingering to her being swept away by the merciless heat punishing this lifeless land. The sun is harsh, the dryness is harsh, the utter lack of wind is harshest. This place is too hostile to human habitation. There is no smell, because there is nothing here but the ruin of ages.
No good.
Maria herself is not sure whose thoughts are these.
This place is no good. I don’t like it here. We cannot stay in here.
This space is empty, yet oppressive. It is marked by the absence of something, and by a silent, yet desperate need to fill the void this something has left. Maria feels like this place will take everything from her if she allows it.
This place is emptiness itself, but Maria Westinghouse is not alone.
The faceless, armored Servant pulls his heavy polearm off the ground, which he stabbed before invoking this ancient nullspace. The fluidity of his movements does not hide the weight of his armor and weapon.
“I…despise this Noble Phantasm,” he confesses. The helmet masks the original voice, turning it into an ominous thrum. “But I will use it to defeat you.”
Neither of the two has taken a stance, but Maria already feels the imminence of battle. Her heartbeat rises and sweat begins to gather most uncomfortably beneath her unfortunately skintight clothes. Her weapon hand trembles, so she forces herself to squeeze her sword a bit harder.
She cannot get used to staring at death in the face. She does not want to.
She can only close her eyes, and remember…
“Girl, life is all about ‘battles’. Life will keep throwing these ‘battles’ at you, and some of them will be unreasonable; outright unfair. And you’re gonna feel cornered, without a way out, and you’re gonna wish you could curl on the ground and close your eyes until all that unfairness goes away. But it won’t. Because life’s battles can’t be avoided. Somebody has to face them head on, and sometimes that somebody simply has to be you. That’s what being an adult is all about.”
“…wow. Grandma, that’s kind of deep.”
“I know, right?”
“So, who taught you that?”
“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you get to sass me, you shitty brat!”
Maria chuckles at the memory. In the end, she never found out from whom her irreverent, cowardly grandma learned that wisdom. Not that it matters.
Sighing as she lets go of some of the tension weighing her down, Maria opens her eyes and properly faces the armored Servant. She is still afraid, and she is still an idiot, but she does not need courage nor wisdom to know when she cannot run away. Fear, desperation, the desire to live—none of those things are shackles.
Maria Westinghouse will not be a child forever.
“Good,” she responds, pointing the tip of her sword at the opposing Servant. “I wanted to meet you too, Lancer.”
A rebellious breeze rises in a spiral around the girl. It is the breath of ancient mythology about to come alive once more.
*** ***
Servant Deduction
* At certain points throughout the Quest, whenever the Main Characters discuss the issue of Servants, participants in the Quest can influence this discussion by presenting their own speculations on the identities of the Servants in Fimbulwinter.
* Naturally, correctly deducing an unknown Servant’s identity is a boon to our protagonists, regardless of whether they wish to befriend the Servant, or defeat them, even if the nature of that boon is unclear at first glance.
Present your FINAL deduction on the identity of the Avenger of the Black Sun.
Spoiler:
Danger! Enemy Battle! VS Avenger of the Black Sun
Battle Rules
Battle scenes are divided in Exchanges, each corresponding to a written scene. Quest players get to decide Maria’s general tactics in every Exchange, from three possible choices:
Buster: Full offense relying on overwhelming physical might, with little regard for defense or actual tactics. Just hit the enemy hard until it drops.
Arts: Careful, tactical combat, prioritizing a solid defense while seeking tactical breakthroughs—either a gap in the enemy’s defense, or an environmental advantage.
Quick: Rapid offense relying on speed and precision—provides better defense than Buster, but offensive potential is comparatively inferior. Quick combat seeks to force the enemy to make mistakes and overextend, creating the opportunity to deal a critical hit.
The effectiveness of each tactic depends, of course, on the enemy’s own preference, the battle’s own circumstances, and any feasible external factors. There is also the obvious fourth option, but Saver’s Noble Phantasm is currently sealed, and Maria cannot use Enuma Elish a second time.
Maria can now select the same tactic in consecutive Exchanges, but diminishing returns apply as the opponent adapts to an unchanging method of attack.
What seems to be the decisive battle against Avenger has fallen unbidden upon Maria. She won the first time, but Avenger does not wield the same powers he did as Lancer. How will Maria face this?
BUSTEROR ARTS OR QUICK
Last edited by Daneel Rush; November 18th, 2019 at 12:52 PM.
Originally Posted by Faux, July 20th 2019
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A wise and beautiful woman who exudes an aura of grace. She is a sly, cunning, manipulative person who always gets what she wants, whether through trickery or ruthlessness. Her own fighting abilities are low, but she should not be trifled with. What does she ride? Men, of course!
