She'll figure out his being a Counter Guardian soon, time to think about things comes later.Originally Posted by Grant
All he wants to do is put on a spectacular performance. Nothing more, nothing less~And has Shakespeare completely flipped?
She'll figure out his being a Counter Guardian soon, time to think about things comes later.
All he wants to do is put on a spectacular performance. Nothing more, nothing less~And has Shakespeare completely flipped?
Even without that knowledge it still would be perfectly logical to think 'that thing needs to die now' (albeit slightly off from the real reason).
And yeah. He's nuts. Admittedly a little bit of that seems to be a prerequisite for being a major character in the Nasuverse, but he's nuts.
True, but Luvia is more confused about the fact that he tried to take her head off. Perfectly reasonable.
Of course he's nuts, but it's not like any of the negative side-effects of the performance will affect him. He's a spirit, and will be gone once the war's over (and it will be over should he succeed).And yeah. He's nuts. Admittedly a little bit of that seems to be a prerequisite for being a major character in the Nasuverse, but he's nuts.
Sweet Jehoshaphat, Shakespeare. What are you thinking? I mean, aside from raising the bar on making the conflict interesting, of course.
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
That being a non-human entity gives him the opportunity to finish the greatest (most dangerous) play on the planet?
As will probably surprise some people, I'm not dead yet. Maybe. Fallen under some kind of apathy spell lately, so I couldn't manage to drum enough motivation to put this up even though it's been done for a while. I was going to discuss something about this chapter's contents here or in the footer, but I can't remember what it was... Well, if it was of any importance, I'd not have forgotten it in the first place.
Ah, when assassin's words 'spike', so to speak, he's speaking with his regular voice stacked atop Bazett's. Otherwise, it's just a very raspy Bazett.
...maybe that was it?
The Three T’s of Victory
Chapter 11
“If I may be perfectly honest, Mr. Pierce, I do not believe this place is the best choice for holding any kind of play. Especially one that you say will attract the whole world’s attention, absurd as that claim may be.” Looking around a desolate field, half-dead trees casting long shadows in the early morning light, a young man addressed his companion. The former site of the Fuyuki Municipal Hall, the park erected as a memorial for the great fire, was as bleak as ever. “Despite being a park, this place hardly counts scenic. And I don’t think that any actors you try to recruit will be all that enthusiastic about performing here.”
“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. No, my dear Issei, this is definitely the perfect place.” Taking out tome bound in pale-yellow snakeskin, the man, clad in flamboyant clothing centuries out of date, began to flip through its worn pages. "Initially, I had thought your temple would make a good place to set up shop, so to speak. Unfortunately for me, it seems something else has taken first dibs. And interfering with that one, considering my current situation, is nothing but a death flag.”
The young man merely tilted his head, obviously not understanding what his quasi-mentor was talking about.
“But that is neither here nor there, this place suits my needs better anyway. The time for banal chatter has passed. The stage needs to be set up, and we have much work to do.”
…
“Don’t we need a permit for that kind of thing?”
“Ah, right you are Issei.” Clapping his open hand and fist together emitting a ‘pon’ sound, the tall man nodded towards his companion. “Alright, first we get a permit, and then we have much work to do! …where again does one get a permit around these parts?”
“Probably Fuyiki City Hall-”“Onwards to City Hall!”“-and I have no idea where it is.”
“Onwards to the internet!”
Needless to say, they had a long road ahead of them.
The Three T’s of Victory
“What do you mean, proposition? Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t just cut you down right where you stand? You tried to kill my Master before, what could you possibly want with us now?” And how did it get all that stuff from Master’s workshop in the first place? This most certainly meant that our security had been compromised. In addition to this, this revealed that Assassin had to have been spying on us for some time before our initial confrontation. Otherwise how would it know that Master had those tools and ingredients and where to get them? The Servant had obviously been able to avoid detection by Saber and myself and was now gloating, it was infuriating. “Are you trying to show off? That you could have killed us at any time, is that it? Speak!”
“Ki. Kikikikiki. Such a thing would hardly be profEssIOnal, and I am nothINg if not a prOFessionAL.” Its tone patronizing, as if insinuating something, the Servant reached up and adjusted the mask on its face, the seemingly ever-present toothy grin revealed for a moment. Its sickening presence and abhorrent double-voice grated on my nerves, and I had to keep my fists clenched at my side so I didn’t reach up and strangle the perverse Spirit. “But that is neItHEr here nor there; I come to offer you a deal. I am pasSINgly familiar with alchemy. I know of the draught your MASter is taking, and that he likely cannot live withOUt it. So I bring these as a peace offERIng, of sorts, to show my…sincerity.”
“You can take your ‘sincerity’ and shove it up your ass!”
“Tut-tut, I haven’t gOTten to the important part yet,” Assassin said with a raspy chuckle coming from behind its hand as it motioned with its bound stump of an arm towards my prone Master, “I have knOWledGE of what it is that possesses the boy, and hOW to…deal with it.”
The Servant had barely finished the sentence before it found my sword at its throat.
“Tell me what I want to know or you lose your head.” A single drop of blood went trickling down the blade, Assassin’s skin pierced by the gleaming edge. “Tell me!”
“Now nOw, if you kill us, my knOwLEdge of that thing dies with us.” Wagging its finger in a chiding manner, Assassin nudged the tip of my sword away from its neck. It then once again laughed that horrible, sickly laugh that nauseated me as much as the too-sweet smell of foetid water and mildew that permeated this place. “Besides, you haVEn’t even heard whAT I want yet.”
“…All right, speak quickly,” before I gave into temptation and cut you to ribbons.
“I dESire two things.” Lifting its good hand up to its face, Assassin held out two fingers. “One is relatively simple. After I fix him, I want your MastER to brew me some of his drAUght. As you can probably see, my cOnDItion in sharing this body with my Master is far from perfect. It is likely that, at thIS rate, we will both perish before the week is through. Balance is nEEDed, however much I may lOAth it, and the draught can grant us thAT. I require this be made at my reqUESt at any time during our peaceful interactions.”
So that was the real reason Assassin brought Master’s stuff along. So much for ‘sincerity’. “…And the second?”
“I want you to kILL the Servant Lancer.”
The Three T’s of Victory
Cold. The night was cold. Her skin-
-my skin-
-it burned. But the night was my realm. Even with a solid body I was invisible; there was none who would stand in my way.
Yet the night, the city, were now being claimed by another. This would not do. The tattered cloak of dreams slowly encroaching on the area must be stopped-
-Banish the false god!
This would not do. It was an obstacle. This would not do. But killing that boy would only inconvenience that thing, for it would simply find a new thurifer. This would not do. He must be sealed. Had Rider refused our little deal I would have made an attempt-
-bury it in a hole-
-by force. Thankfully that Rider had no grasp on the situation. For as long as I held the Master’s fate in my hand I had a thrall, however unreliable, in his Servant. And maybe if I was lucky, he and Lancer-
-lost lost lost lost her lost-
-would end up eliminating the other. Taking out Rider’s Master was no longer a viable strategy, and I had little confidence on surviving a prolonged battle with a regular Servant. Especially considering how the last one ended up…even if that encounter weakened Master enough for me to exert more influence in out ‘relationship’. Either way, I had a lot of work to do and the night was not getting any younger.
…ah, perfect…
The Three T’s of Victory
Waiting was hell.
I never had much patience to begin with, but recent events certainly tried what little I actually possessed. In fact, I couldn’t know if Assassin had just decided to go reveal our location to one of our enemies instead of leaving to fetch ‘a certain item’ like it said. Why it didn’t bring said ‘item’ with it in the first place was beyond me, and the Servant had been quite evasive about it. That thing had no honor; it couldn’t be trusted. It wasn't even a real Heroic Spirit. But, unfortunately, I had no other choice at the moment. Master’s safety took priority above even my own misgivings.
However, the Servant’s request – or, to be more exact, the stipulations on it – definitely made me curious. While I understood wanting to eliminate an enemy Servant, and the Servant Assassin’s general inability to take standard Servants in battle, why him specifically? I mean, sure, it was obvious that Lancer was an overcompensating pervert, but I couldn’t see why he had to be singled out. Though having to keep it secret from Assassin’s Master (by method of not speaking of it around the Servant ever again) certainly made me suspicious. But it was not like I had much choice in the matter at this point, so I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth…no matter how much I may have wanted to.
I supposed that I should have just been thankful that I was not sent against Saber in this situation.
A slight rustling of leaves outside indicated that Assassin had returned, followed by the sound of something substantial being dragged behind the Servant. Upon its entering the cave, I saw that Assassin had brought an unconscious woman with him, and was carelessly pulling her along by her arm. This did not bode well.
“So, this woman was the ‘item’ you left to go fetch? What would you need someone like her for?” Playing the fool came as naturally to me as breathing. I knew through harsh experience that in the end denying the truth never made it go away. Far from it, in fact it often served only to make things worse, but I could not help it. There was only one reason Assassin would bring in an unconscious woman back with it: to use her as a sacrifice. As the twelfth of Charlemagne’s paladins, this certainly went against everything I stood for in life. I used to rescue women in similar situations to this, so finding myself on the opposite side of the divide was not amusing in the least. Was I going to just sit here and let Assassin kill this woman? Even for the sake of my Master? “Seriously, is this absolutely necessary? I mean, I’m sure there’s another way we could do this. Why don’t we just put her back where you found her? I know that might be difficult, what with that stumpy arm of yours, but-“
“Cease your prATTling. In order to save your precIOus Master I hAVE need of prana, fuel that nEITHer you nor the boy can provide.” With a clack the Servant bit into its thumb hard enough to draw blood, using the appendage to sketch out a strange design on the stone floor. It looked not unlike a pentagram used in orthodox spellcasting, but was distorted as if seen through the reflection of a moving stream. “ReTREIving one who has gone to walk the sands is nEVer an easy task.”
“’Walk the sands?’” Was that literal, or some kind of metaphor? I wasn’t all that good at metaphors. In fact, if there were any kinds of wordplay I was actually any good at it had to be innuendo and double-entendres. “What do you mean by tha…?”
Reaching into its robe, Assassin pulled out a worn-looking wooden bowl and my question died on my lips. Even from the other side of the cave I could sense death radiating from that mundane appliance. It was no Noble Phantasm, or even something that had ascended alongside the Servant like my sword, but whatever it was, it had played a part in the deaths of countless. Seeing that, I knew if I wanted to stop this I would have to do it now. Yet, I would not. I would follow my heart and protect and serve Master as well as I was able.
Placing the bowl at the rightmost tip of the pentagram Assassin pulled the still slumbering woman over its lip and, with a deft motion of its wrist, slit her throat with a black knife and poured her lifeblood into the crucible. I did my best to hide my revulsion over the callous act, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded.
“His soul has gONe to walk the dead lake-shores of the Rub’ al Khali, cALLed into service by the detested thing.” Carelessly tossing the newly-made corpse to the side, Assassin once again pulled out one of its knives. Instead of using it to cut into any flesh however, the knife seemed to simply liquefy and pour into the bowl alongside the blood. “He is wELL on his way to becoming one of the white mAskED figures that act as acOLytes and vessels to what my ancestors called Kaiwan, Rephan, or, once they learned of its true nATure from decipherING texts of the Xanthic Folio, simply the detested thing. They DARed not call it anything else, for spEAKIng its true name, the nAME given to it after that city long fallen, invites only diSASter.” Pausing to let out a raspy laugh that quickly devolved into a wet cough, Assassin proceeded to pour the contents of the bowl onto the cave floor whilst mumbling something that hurt my ears just listening to. However, instead of spilling into a formless puddle like I had expected, the liquid metal started writhing like a clump of maggots within the pentagram and began flowing into a strange shape resembling nothing more the veins of a leaf. “I have hEARd many a tale about this being in my yOUth and had hoped that I’d never have the fORTUne to encounter any trace of its existENce.”
“But why Master? Why has a monster like that possessed him?”
“Why, you ask?” Inspecting its handiwork, a small blood-red token no larger than a denarius, Assassin simply let out a snort. “There’s no rEAL reason for it, there never is. Your Master is practicALLy an open door for any MALignant spirit to come strolling through. I’m honESTly surprised it’s taken this long for sOMething of this sort to happen. As for why thIS being specificaALLy? It appears that sOMEone has taken adVANtage of the War, and the stress it puts on reALity, to slip in his own ritual. I’d point my finger at Caster, but that is merely an assUMPtion as no one besides an ancient magus would be inSANe enough to call upon something like this. Kikiki, though I’m ONe to talk, I suppose.”
I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear the last bit, or see the way the Servant glanced at its bound arm as it spoke, so I just nodded dumbly.
Walking over to my Master, whose condition had worsened to the point that he seemed to be made more of cloth than flesh, Assassin deftly pulled a small nub off the back of the token. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the small charm was actually an earring of some sort, as evidenced by the small needle sticking out of the end of its ‘stem’. Without any further fanfare, Assassin quickly lanced the small earring through Master’s right earlobe, capping it in place with the nub. In an instant, the ragged fabric extruding from my Master’s body began to recede, slowly crawling its way back to being pink flesh. Whatever bling that Assassin had decided to decorate Master with, it was effective.
“The Elder Sign should supprESS the worst of the symptoms, at least temporarily, though it will do nothing for the Reality Marble slowly encROACHing on the city as he isn’t its only source.” What was an Elder Sign (I could literally hear the capital letters) and…wait, what was that about a Reality Marble? What the hell was Assassin talking about? I asked/demanded as much, but the Servant was too deep in its own thoughts to notice or care. Before it got to the point where I was considering taking out my sword again to get it to talk, Assassin seemed to remember it wasn’t alone. “Your Master should be safe for the time being, though cannot vouch for his sanity at this point. The fact that he hasn’t woken up and stARTEd raving can be taken as a good sign however, kikikiki, so I hope you can keep up your end of the dEAl when he wakes.”
Looking over at my Master, his tattered clothing and unnaturally pale skin now the only trace of the ordeal he went through, then glancing at the corpse remorselessly discarded by the cave entrance, I hoped he wouldn’t hate me for what I had to do for him.
The Three T’s of Victory
Well, this definitely threw a wrench in her plans. While she could still sense that her Archer was still around, the marks on her arm proved this, her Servant had yet to turn up. Rin couldn’t keep an agitated sigh from escaping her lips as she nursed on a cup of lukewarm tea she had made an hour earlier. She only had one Command Seal left, not something she could relinquish easily, even if it was to return her servant to her side. And for some strange reason, there was something muffling her link with him, preventing her from ascertaining his location.
This would not stand. She may have failed in summoning Saber, and the Servant she ended up with may have been insufferable, but these were nothing but bumps in the road to winning the War. Even Archer’s disappearance would not stop her. Of this, if nothing else, Rin was sure.
The Three T’s of Victory
Whatever I had expected would happen when Master woke it certainly wasn’t for him to start tearing at his own body, rivulets of blood running down his arms where his unnaturally sharp fingernails pierced the skin deep into the muscle. The sun had just come over the horizon when I heard a stirring from beside me. Assassin had taken to resting further inside the cave, claiming that the night had exhausted it whilst refusing to answer any further questions, so that left my Master being the only probable cause.
Upon seeing my Master in such a state, I did all I could to restrain him. He fought me tooth and nail the whole time, even going for my jugular with his bloodied incisors. Trying to talk him down did nothing but make him spit more of that gibberish from yesterday (along with plenty of regular spit) at me. Damn it all, I knew it was too much to ask for that his mind would come out unscathed from the daemon encroaching on his soul, but this was worse than I had feared.
And while I had certainly hoped he’d one day assault me, this was definitely not what I meant. Although, I could not deny that I deserved this for what I had let happen here. The pain I felt from having my Master’s grasping fingers furrow through the exposed skin of my face, bypassing my natural resistances, was naught but punishment earned. Punishment I would take gracefully. But not Master, he had nothing to call this fate upon him. I would not let him come to any more harm, especially from himself.
Eventually, after a few minutes of this, he started to calm down. While Master was still far from coherent, mumbling strange words under his breath, at least he wasn’t trying to harm both himself and me. His mutterings growing quieter and quieter, Master once again slipped into a fitful slumber. Assassin had yet to return from deeper within the cave, and I was loathe to leave my Master unattended, so I just sat at his side once again.
"Let the red dawn surmise
What we shall do,
When this blue starlight dies
And all is through"
As my eyes were closing of their own accord and I began drifting off, the prana I had been receiving from Master once again reduced to a trickle by Assassin’s charm, strange words spoken in an even stranger – and almost musical – cadence made its way to my ears. Despite what I had feared, the sorrowful tune had not originated from my Master.
The situation was far, far worse.
“Why, why have you done this to me?”
With the gash in her neck grinning dementedly at me, the woman Assassin had killed – the woman I had let be killed – lunged.
[Break]
And there it all is. Like most of the chapters I write, it's been patched together over months of on-and-off writing.
In the King in Yellow tradition, Hastur is often equated to the god Kaiwan. Kaiwan (or Rephan) was a star god worshiped by the ancient Israeli apostates, most likely from intermingling with the Egyptians, Assyrians, the Akkadian Empire etc. [And this isn't the first instance of such a thing happening; ex. Moloch, which is often mentioned alongside Kaiwan.] Evidence suggests that it's a bastardization of the Roman Saturn, as both the names Kaiwan and Rephan have their origins there, however indirect (one Akkadian, the other Egyptian). The detested thing(disgusting thing/abominable thing) is from the Hebrew tradition of either tacking on, and/or altering of a god's name to sound like, the verb shiqqus which means just that, in order to show disdain for the god and to try to discourage worship of it...or something.
The reference 'to walk the sands' is taken from the short-story In Carcosa, the King by Gary Vehar, where a group of archeologists discover the ruins of a city in a dry lake bed in the Rub-al-Kali (Arabia). Members of the team begin disappearing, while an ever-increasing number of white-masked figures can be seen stalking the desert.
The little poem at the end was taken directly from The King in Yellow (book), and may or may not be a part of the titular play.
Fuck yes, update!
DEATH TO THE NECROMAN...!
Oh, wait, it's an update. Carry along, then!
I always wanted to do this joke, thanks for the chance, Al!
Spoiler:
When Al delivers, he delivers very, very well.~
F/GO SUPPORT
Fuck necro. Who did it? Oh, update. Joy! Joy!
It lives! IT LIVES!
Good show, Al. I can almost taste all this flavor text on my tongue.
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
Yeah! An update! At first I thought it was another bad Necro.
Funny Gif
Favorite Nasuverse Quote
I found these two from TumblrUfotable vs Visual Novel
...Does it taste like curry? 'Cause if it tastes like curry, I did something wrong.
Most curry's yellow, though. Why wouldn't that be a success?
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
Because the really good curry isn't yellow, but more... orangeish? Brownish? Something like that.
Spoiler:
Chapter 12?
Alright.
Hello everyone, I have been gone for quite a long time. Like, 2015 long. (Though those who frequent the JP FGO threads may have encountered me sometime early 2017-ish.)
This is essentially a confirmation of me discontinuing this story until further notice. Obvious, as it hasn't updated in forever. However, I do so hate when authors update a story for the first time in years only to say it's dead. Now, that's exactly what I'm doing, but I also have content! Rather, below I'm posting what I have written of chapter twelve. It's about...80% done, but I felt I had to do something otherwise this would be no better than a necro post. The first part was planned to be an interlude of sorts, a standalone chapter to tide things over. while I hammered out the issues with the actual chapter. Something in the vein of the Pinocchio story I did ages ago. (Don't ask me to link to that or post it again. Since it was written in less than ten minutes as an impulse in the forum's own reply function instead of transferred from Word like all my other stories, I no longer remember where it was posted nor do I have any copies of it.) More or less it was something I wrote back in the end of 2016 as an attempt to bridge concepts introduced since I had stopped writing into the plot. Which brings me to the main reason I'm cutting off this story's head.
When I began writing this story in 2011, the Nasuverse was a vastly different place. This whole mess was originally a one-shot written in reaction to the introduction of incomplete Servant designs from the cancelled Fate/Apocrypha game project. To say it was a different climate then would be an understatement. I was just so excited new Servants were being introduced, and one was even a cross-dresser, that I had to be the first to write about it. And now with FGO a new one's introduced practically every other month. However, due to the positive reception I decided to continue the story despite having no long-term plans. It honestly might have been a mistake, considering the original concept was just "Shirou summons Astolfo because he was forced into crossdressing as a kid by Irisviel" and nothing more.
The first real hit this story took was when Fate/Apocrypha was reborn as a Light Novel. Astolfo's personality and abilities were expanded upon, and some in ways I couldn't account for. I tried to adapt. As you can probably tell from the massive edits the early chapters went through, I was in the process of essentially rewriting the whole damn story. And then came the moment of truth; the stupid event which turned me off fanfiction entirely for years.
Just me ranting, feel free to skip.Just me ranting, feel free to skip.
By the time I eventually got over that, and started to be interested in both reading and writing fanfiction it was 2016 and Fate Grand Order had changed everything. I tried to accommodate the vast amounts of new lore and character changes into the story, but Camelot really threw me for a loop with the additions to Cursed Arm Hassan. Kind of rendered him unsuitable for the role I had him in, that did. Eventually I decided to just end it, since trying to keep this going was becoming harder and harder. Now, you don't have to worry about Cremation. I'm still planning on continuing that. FGO's introduction didn't change enough to derail my plans for that story. Yet.
As for the reason I didn't post this sooner, that's because I've only now started to write another story. I'm busier than I used to be, so I can't say for sure when I'll have it up. I can say it's different than my previous works, which essentially amount to "Shirou contracts with something weird, hilarity ensues". It's a Fate crossover, true, but Shirou isn't the protagonist this time around at the very least. As for my other plans, I would like to write an Ar Tonelico fanfic someday. Not a Fate crossover this time, since me trying to mix the Nasuverse with the EXA_PICO universe is a disaster waiting to happen. I have no actual ideas though, so that's just little more than a vague aspiration at this point. I also happen to have a half-finished chapter of a Digimon fanfic on my harddrive. No idea what exactly I'm going to do about that, but it's another possibility. For now, I'll just leave you all with this.
Since I'm literally just copy-pasting from word for this, so there may be formatting errors. I will be posting this to FF.net later today, I think. But for now, I'm too tired to even attempt to wrangle with that mess.
The Three T’s of Victory
Chapter 12
Let me tell you a story.
Three thousand years ago, in what is now known as the Rub’ al Khali, there laid a small nation of shepherds and cow herders. Theirs was a modest people, but their capitol, Carcosa, was considered a prosperous jewel of the land by all who beheld her. Located adjacent to a large lake named for an ancient philosopher, it was both abundant both in resources and in culture. Yet, in spite of their affluence, they possessed no armies to defend their land. They needed none. For what others wanted of them, they gave freely. And in gratitude, the neighboring nations promised their protection whenever it was needed.
All but one, that is.
Disaster struck the fair city when the Adite King Shaddād, a notorious conqueror and tyrant, set his eyes on Carcosa. Sending in his armies, he launched a surprise attack on the small nation. A blitzkrieg so fast and furious, Carcosa’s protectors were left unable to respond in time. Yet, it was not a want for resources that spurred the attack. After all, what Carcosa had they would give. It was mere envy that drove the man. For you see, Shaddād was a jealous, petty man. He could not stand that Carcosa was viewed a greater city than his own Irem, and he set out to prove it the only way he knew how.
They burned the city to the ground, desecrated their shrines, and killed the inhabitants down to the last man. Even Carcosa’s king, a man known for his fair and magnanimous personality, could not escape this fate. The soldiers were quite proud of this fact, as evidenced by the stories they later told under the influence of drink. To hear them tell it, they pierced him with their spears so many times that the resplendent yellow robes the king was so fond of wearing were left in tatters.
However, this was not the end. As he lay dying in his throne room, Carcosa’s last king prayed to the nation’s patron deity, an otherwise nameless god most often referred to by the same name as the nation itself, for revenge against those that had so callously attacked his people. This deity, as the protector of the nation’s shepherds and cow herders, was a sympathetic god by nature. He listened to the king’s heartfelt plea, and desired to grant his earnest wish.
The god had seen what happened to his people, and could only watch helplessly. He was a mere nameless god of shepherds after all. His protection was limited to guarding against natural disasters and predators that would harm his charges’ flocks. This was the dilemma the deity faced. The king desired revenge, yet lacked the power to enact it. The god had the power, yet lacked the capacity to follow through with it. One would but couldn’t, one could but wouldn’t.
So a cursed bargain was struck, and that night a god descended upon the land of Hastur.
It was not long after his infamous raid that Shaddād perished from the sudden onset of an unknown disease. As his younger brother and fellow ruler Shaddīd had died some time before, succession was left to Shaddād’s eldest son; a young man of a rather sickly disposition. Though his claim to the throne was contested by a few – namely his younger, hardier half-brother – there wasn’t seen to be enough cause to stop it and so the claim went through. The elder prince’s coronation was to be celebrated with a masked ball, something that had become a fad within the city as of late. It was a grand celebration, with the entirety of Irem’s nobility in attendance…
…along with a single yellow-clad Stranger.
And that was the last anyone heard from the pillared city of Irem. Messengers were sent to find out what had occurred, but none were able to locate it. It was as if the entire city just ceased to be. A single nation got the idea to send scouts to the location of the destroyed Carcosa for a possible clue, and what they found there only made the truth of the situation even murkier. The city, formerly a burnt wreck, had somehow returned to a completely intact state as if Irem’s raid never happened.
Yet in spite of this obvious miracle, something was terribly, inconceivably wrong. It became apparent that many buildings were the wrong size, streets somehow curved unto themselves, towers would upon a glance twist endlessly into the sky, any reflection showed two suns instead of one, and most of all…there were no people. Not even the corpses of Carcosa’s inhabitants that had previously littered the once burnt-out streets were found. The scouts soon fled in a panic, bringing news of the strange happening and hoping, in their heart of hearts, never to return to that hellish place.
And so it was that the city became known as a cursed place, a land of spirits and demons. Many a foolhardy soul who ventured there, be it for fame or treasure, never returned. Those few that did came back shells of their former selves, no longer capable of recounting whatever it was they had experienced. Not a decade after Irem’s invasion the rains stopped and the many lakes of Rub’ al Khali dried up, as if a curse from the people of lost Carcosa…or so it is said. The truth, like the city itself, is now buried in the endless sands.
"Ia, Ia, Hastur!!
Hastur kufayak!!
Bulgtom fugtragurn bulgtom.
Ai, ai, Hastur!!"
This is but one version of events as recorded within the prophetic Xanthic Folio.
The Three T’s of Victory
With the gash in her neck grinning dementedly at me, the woman Assassin had killed – the woman I had let be killed – lunged-
-only to get impaled through the chest by a poleaxe of burnished gold.
“What an unsightly creature. I come to root out a worm that has wriggled its way into my garden, only to find it has already laid eggs in my flowers.”
Walking – nay, strutting – out of the darkness of the forest the source of the voice, a tall vaguely European-looking man, looked condescendingly at the woman impaled on the polearm. With a flick of his wrist, the weapon burst into flame, completely immolating the surrounding body. Such careless ease…it was as if nothing unnatural had just taken place here. Looking back at the source of the weapon, I couldn’t help but blanch. Sparkling golden hair, ruby-red eyes, expensive clothes, uber-handsome face, arrogant expression, he…he…!
“Y-you’re after my Master, aren’t you? You’re gonna steal him away from me!”
“Hmph, as if a mongrel like you coul-”
“No nononono! Not after all the hard work I’ve spent trying to convert my Master to the ways of Boy’s Love!” Okay, I hadn’t gotten much farther than setting the groundwork, but it was only a matter of time! Once this was all over, he would definitely see the light! He would see that gender was nothing in the face of true Romance! Men and Women; all were equal in the eyes of the Lord! Though, I had to admit, I would’ve been sorely disappointed had he actually taken me up on any of my offers this early. One would hope that he’d have more strength of character than to jump in bed with a relative stranger after all – though I was exempt of course, for there was no one with less shame than I! “I will not allow some random pretty-boy Servant like you just traipse in to take him for your own!”
“…huh?”
“Nuwooo! I won’t let you stick your **** in his *** with **** making him go all ******! Haah… haah… ha-ump!” Nope. I was definitely not imagining what that would look like. I was in no way imagining Master holding up peace signs and w-well. Nothing like that at all. “S-stay back, fiend!”
“Are you touched in the head?”
“T-touch? You want me too?” This was all too soon! “I hadn’t even considered a Master x Rider x Mysterious Stranger pairing, what a plot-twist!”
“That is enough. I’ve had enough of your irrational rambling, mongrel. Die.”
With a motion of his hand, the stranger called forth another poleaxe from the air behind him. It was same shining gold as the first, emerging from what looked like an equally golden ripple suspended in the air. And then, without any further fanfare, it launched at me like a cannonball.
That was not good. Throwing myself to the side, I escaped the makeshift projectile by hiding behind a tree. Goldie was unerringly accurate with those weapons of his. Maybe I shouldn’t have aggravated him the moment he appeared?
…nah.
The Three T’s of Victory
With a pout on her lips, Ilya once again took the time to glare at the front door. Echoing out from the empty air, a deep baritone voice whispered into her ear.
“Staring at the door won’t make Master Shirou come back any faster, you know. You should at the very least come back to the dining room and get something to eat before trying anything. You skipped dinner last night, after all.”
“I don’t wanna.” Crossing her arms in frustration in response to her invisible Servant’s concern, the small girl let out a huff. “With onii-chan becoming an oni-chan and being spirited away by his Servant, all my plans have been ruined. He was supposed to be mine, not-!”
Grrowrl.
Beat
“…I want something sweet.”
“Very well, Mistress. I shall call Sella and Leysritt over immediately. It’s been nearly two days since you ran away, so they’re probably beside themselves with worry by now.” Pausing for a moment, the Servant seemed to consider something. “…Well, Sella is anyway. I’ll brew some tea while we wait. We can plan out what to do after that.”
The Three T’s of Victory
Throwing myself to the side yet again, I dodged another axe-turned-projectile. How many weapons – how many Noble Phantasms – did this guy have, and what was with him and sloppily spraying them everywhere? I lost count after the third time a flail had come close to clotheslining me. Not only that, why were they all gold? That was beyond tacky.
The assault continued in this manner for a while. I didn’t know whether it was my luck or the opponent’s rather apparent lack of motivation that allowed me to survive the sheer onslaught, but I knew if it continued like this I’d end up being perforated before long. And if I fell here, my Master would soon follow.
Another launch, another dodge; it was almost rhythmic in a way…
And then I tripped. It looked like the after-effects of that monster’s prana had yet to fully leave my system. Yes, that was it. It totally wasn’t because I didn’t notice particularly knobby tree root. Nope. I mean, there was a time I used to be a tree. Real peaceful, a ten out of ten – would recommend getting cursed again. But even if it was only temporary, wasn’t such betrayal akin to fratricide on the part of this tree? Not that having a completely justifiable reason made my unfortunate situation any better. In just a few moments a tacky golden Noble Phantasm would spear me through the back of my head, ending my life and any chance I had at saving Master.
Yet for some reason, it appeared I wasn’t dead yet. Looking up at my be-treed assailant, it seemed he had suddenly become preoccupied with his own golden armor. He was checking it over quite thoroughly with a rather ridiculous-looking scowl on his face. Huh, handsome, arrogant, and vain; the classic combination.
“Hmph. You’ve gone and spattered mud all over my armor cretin. This will not do. I would be doing the world a great disservice if I were to not remain pristine at all times.” The forest floor was damp from the morning dew. With the countless heavy impacts coming from his bombardment, dirt and debris were sent flying everywhere. It seemed like one of his own weapons had gone off close to where he remained perched, spattering a generous amount of dirt on his greaves. Yet, despite all this being due to his careless barrage, he had the gall to blame me for his own misdeeds? How terrible. “It appears there is but one solution. Rejoice, for you are about to witness the full glory of a King: A.U.O. Cast off!”
Rose petals; Rose petals everywhere.
I didn’t know how to properly describe it. It was as if a second sun had risen this morning. It was a glory mortal eyes could not comprehend. It was majesty given form, it was divinity incarnate! The enemy Servant had divested himself of his armor, along with whatever he had underneath it – unless he went commando, as I often did – revealing his birthday suit for the world to see. Crimson tattoos symbolizing god knows what ran across his sculpted body in intricate designs, seeming to shimmer as he breathed. And despite now being completely in the nude, the Servant’s pompous attitude remained unchanged.
“Does my unfiltered majesty leave you speechless, mongrel? Yes, an understandable reaction.” Nodding with an audible huff, the nude sparkler threw an insufferable grin my way. “Very well, I shall allow you some time to bask in my glory before I end your life. It is the minimum amount of kindness I can grant one such as you.”
“Grr…” Kindness? One such as me? ‘The hell did that mean? I couldn’t take it anymore; them were fightin’ words! Two could play at that game. “You want glory? I’ll show you glory. Let’s go, y-U.F.O. Cast off!”
Divesting myself of my own armor in a flash, I took a pose mirroring that of my opponent. While I couldn’t spontaneously generate rose petals out of thin air, there was no doubt my beauty would glitter in the morning light filtering through the branches! If he was the harsh rays of the sun, then I was the gentle glow of the moon! I would not falter, nor would I be defeated!
“Oho? You think you can outshine the King? Very well, I accept your challenge.”
And thus began a competition for the ages. One that would be passed down in song for generations, one whose heights future youth would aspire to reach! It was grand, it was magnificent-!
Well, whatever it was only lasted up until we were interrupted by a disturbingly wet-sounding cough.
“W-what’s going on here? Where am I-*cough*. I-”
Whatever else was going to be said was broken off by another bout of coughing. Adonis Junior seemed a little put off by the interruption, but that was unimportant. Master was awake! However, for all that was good news, it meant we were out of time. It had been over twenty-four hours since he last took his medicine, and while the possession and ensuing unconsciousness seemed to have postponed the withdrawal, time was now up.
Damn it, why did that Assassin always have to end up being right?
The Three T’s of Victory
“When he wakes? That’s not giving any of us time to recover!”
“Kikiki. Kikikikikikiki. It’s not just fOR me, but for his sAke as well. Although the pOssESsion inadvertently pOstponed it, that…cONDition of his is far from cured. It wOULd be such a SHAme to lose him aftER all of this, wouldn’t iT?”
“Bastard. How do you expect Master to be able to make that potion of yours when he’s like this?”
“As lOng as he can rEMember how to make it, thE precise state of his mInd is irrelevant. If magecRAft is an art, then alchemy is a scIENce. Disregarding vARIables like the tIme of day, the pOsitIOn of cELEstial bodies, the wEAther, and so on, that often neEDs to be calcUlated and accounted for, the alchEMic process – that of enACting change – is sURprIsingly rigid.” Assassin chuckled, its voice a rasping cough. “Alchemy, at its cOre, can be vIEwed as a series of steps thAt, if precisely observED, invariably exert a static phENomenOn.”
“…huh?”
“Kikikiki. You’re ACtually quite stupid, arEN’t you? In layman’s terms, as lONg as one is able to foLLOw the formula, the result WIll always be the same.”
“Then what’s stopping you from making it yourself?”
“I don’t knOW the formula. And even if I did, it’s dOUbtful that I’d be capable of fOllowING it. Your Master MAy be a bit of a haCk, but he has the bAsic qualifications to be an alCHEmist that I currEntly lack.
“How do you know so much about alchemy anyway? What about it would interest a killer like you?”
“There is no bETter poison than the onE you make yourself, after aLL.”
The Three T’s of Victory
The crisp morning air tingled against her skin. Glancing up at the school building that was just within sight, Rin let out an annoyed snort. Her good-for-nothing Servant was still absent, when he obviously should be right there next to her. If she had to suffer through the mundane school day with the war going on, so should he.
Ignoring the other students’ attempts at greetings, Rin made her way to her classroom. Taking her seat, she crossed her arms and allowed her face to impact the desk with an audible thud. This caused her classmates to attempt to ask what was wrong, but she just let the questions all flow over her. The door opened and the teacher came in announcing something, causing the rest of the class to break out in a ruckus, but Rin ignored that as well. Even the door sliding open a second time followed by a figure in heels did not disturb the girl from her funk. It was only when said figure stopped in front of the blackboard and let out a haughty laugh did Rin finally raise her head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all, my name is Luviagelita Edelfelt. I may only be here for a short time, but it is my hope that we all get along.”
Oh god, could this get any worse?
The Three T’s of Victory
This was a long time ago, in a place so close, yet far removed from reality.
On top a hill perched a castle, and within that castle laid a room. In the room [without windows, without doors], [without corners, without walls], a single gramophone sat. Turntable spinning, needle scratching, it played its song. None were present to hear it [without audience, without crowds], none to understand it [without scholars, without fools], but it played all the same.
The Seven Sisters, children of the stars, once danced to its tune. Aldebaran, ever changing but ever loyal, danced with each in turn. The weeping Hyades, mourning still for dear Hyas, sung a wailing accompaniment, forever lamenting their loss.
Yet…it is now all empty, the room no longer sounds with neither the steps of the Pleiades nor the voices of the despairing. The night sky is black as pitch, starlight replaced by void, moons absent, and suns long ago sunken.
Why is this?
They have abandoned this place.
Why is this?
The stars have fallen to earth.
Why is this?
They were called.
Who called them?
The King.
Why were they called?
For no reason but this: With the end of every masquerade comes the removal of the masks. Yet, even so, the music still plays. In this room without walls, the cycle goes on. So rejoice my children, for this is the Advent of the Beast.
“…
Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.”
[Break]
Originally this chapter would have had the conclusion of the encounter with Gilgamesh and Shirou bringing himself back to a functioning state, transferring the focus of the story back to him. I ended up removing that unfinished section to give this at least the appearance of being complete.
Continuing from above, my initial plan was that Hastur would have turned out to essentially be some sort of soul-eating planet, summoned into our solar system by the King in Yellow play. The introduction of Velber, a canonical travelling evil planet, really took the wind out my sails. And with the introduction of the Beast Class in FGO, I tried to retool Hastur into one of those instead. The little story at the top of the chapter being an attempt at justificating that.
However, this was also before Foreigners were introduced, though I made a small attempt at intergrating that into the fold as well, otherwise I would have gone with something using that framework as it's practically asking for it. It wasn't long after Salem that I finally decided to scrap the project in its entirety, since I was tired of having to keep changing things as new bits of lore kept being revealed.
I even made class sheets for the Beast. Now, they operate under the (hopefully correct) assumption that, like Grands, there are multiple candidates for a Beast position which can change depending on the situation. It also operated under the (probably incorrect) assumption that the representing sin is attached to the creature rather than the position.
HasturShirou
I initially wrote this before the whole L/R thing was revealed, though I touched things up a little after Salem. And then I more or less gave up. Were I to continue, I'd probably give Hastur and Shirou the full Foreigner treatement and disregard the Beast angle entirely. But honestly, that's unlikely to happen so it's a moot point.
Last edited by Alulim; May 1st, 2019 at 04:07 PM.
Glad to see you again, sorry to see the 'fic's more-or-less-demise, but hey, at least you let it off with quite a dignity. FWIW I immensely enjoyed what fun bit of a little there was. The posing contest, for one. In-character, but still quite silly.
Here's to brighter futures and greener grasses, and hey, I'll probably follow whatever it is you decide to work on next. Kudos regardless.
- - - Updated - - -
Also, super sorry I didn't see this earlier and respond in a timely manner. Oopsie!
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
I remember when I browsed Beast's Lair a good deal more than I do now, checking in when I remember this place and seeing if any of the topics I follow have updated. This story was one I regularly looked forward to and while I'm sad to see you move on I want to thank you for the chapters you wrote for this.
I wish things go well for you and that you enjoy writing and reading fanfiction again as before the bad experiences you had.
Great, now I feel guilty for killing this thing. Ehehe. All the same, I hope I'm able to finish and post my new fic up sometime soon.
Still, the fanfic section seems rather...dead, to be honest. Did we have another 'great exodus' or something?
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