Fate/Zero Complex
In the Third War for the Holy Grail, the Einzbern family disrupted the pattern of Heaven's Feel, calling forth the forbidden class Avenger, that they might reclaim their place as the wielders of the Third Magic. They wished to bring forth the divinity called Angra Mainyu, the evil god against which none could long endure...but what they summoned was not quite what they expected.
What their odd ritual called into existence was a nameless one - a sacrificial vessel bearing the wishes of humanity that something other than they might be the source of all evil - and more importantly, one helpless to defend himself in a war of heroes.
In the first battle, he was struck down, his essence breaking down and entering the Grail, where the wish he embodied was granted, with the force contained within the once colorless vessel stained by human wishes and dreams, things that would inevitably lead to the world's ruin. For the one branded as Angra Mainyu was no more than a reflection of humanity, his existence holding the mirror to those who had first cursed him, twisted him from simple villager into an implacable wanderer whose spirit could never truly know rest as long as the descendants of those who had named him still existed.
And as long as any human denied responsibility for their acts of violence, held frustration or anger towards their fellow man, desired to be free of stain or torment - he would continue to exist, bound to his role until the end of time, granting their wishes.
For millennia he had existed. For millennia he had witnessed the crimes of man. For millennia he had been trapped between the vale of life and death, as he was even now.
...until after over half a century in darkness, the Grail was once again awakened at a cycle of an ancient ritual, and a chance came to shatter the chains of fate binding him to this ludicrous world.
For what was the Grail but a vessel that existed to grant a wish? And what was he but the embodiment of wishes...including his own which none had ever heeded?
His cries resonated in the void between worlds, where they joined with the desperation of one who had been trapped as a Zero, heaped with scorn and ridicule for the crime of seemingly having no magic. Both wish for something to change, for the world to tremble and for them to be free...
...a flash of green, a sensation of falling through an expanse vaster than anything human comprehension, through the primordial 「 」 Avenger had dwelt in for too long...and then there was light.
Premise:
Much as in canon, the summoning of Avenger in the Third War had more permanent consequences than any realized, as the Grail would inevitably react to the wishes of those who joined with it. In this case, however, more than the collected wishes of others heaped onto Avenger's soul, it read his own unheard wish for freedom, and so, when the Fourth War began, the summonings were twisted.
For when Avenger was drawn forth into another world, ripples and eddies were left in his wake, pulling the Masters and Servants of the War after him, into random locations in that other place and time.
As a participant of the Fourth War, you emerge somewhere in the continent of Halkeginia* (roll 1d4, 1d10, and 1d6 for exact location, surroundings, and situation), possessing whatever canonical knowledge and abilities the character did, and rather confused by where you are (in terms of possessions, you have only what was on your body or immediate vicinity when you began the summoning). Your summoned Servant is slightly puzzled by the circumstances, but it isn't any stranger than being summoned from the Throne in the first place.
To your knowledge, nothing of this sort has ever happened before (not even in the debacle of the Third War, where nearly every participating family turned to cheating and base treachery in an attempt to win the Grail, only for the vessel to be damaged before the victor could be decided and the War brought to a premature end). Some may wonder if this is the Grail's way of testing participants by throwing a novel curve at them. Some believe it is the work of a unsavory, unorthodox magus who cares not a whit for tradition, who has sabotaged the ritual to ensure his victory. One (Waver Velvet) may even think that paranoid, strait-laced Lord El-Melloi purposefully booby-trapped the artifact to interact with the summoning in a strange way, in anticipation of it being stolen.
But aside from: "What Happened?" and "Where am I?", several concerns come to mind.
The War is but one of them - of greater concern are survival (getting supplies/employment without money or identification, finding out what the situation is, and of course, dealing with the ruling magocracy, as few are exactly accustomed to subordination, much less humiliation).
For this is a world where magic is not kept secret, where the identities of mages are well known as the rulers of the land, supposedly blessed above all other men and women by the Founder, the Prophet who walks with God. The technology level varies, but reaches High Middle Age at best, and magic is used for much more than in the modern world (made possible as mages make up a staggering 10% of the population, more than the nobility of any country has ever done). In short, it is almost a return to the time before the founding of the Association.
With this knowledge, and a Servant by your side, a Heroic Spirit that surpasses humanity, what will you do?
Will you conquer? Will you liberate? Will you earn a place in this society? Or will you hide?
Your fate...is in your hands.
Claimed Characters:
Irisviel von Einzbern (the Lesser Grail) [1d4=1, 1d10=4, 1d6=5] - Claimed by lethum, Iris appears in a small farming village in Tristain known as Tarbes, one of the friendlier possible areas. There are a middling number of people around on their way to market, but none really take too much notice of her except as much as any noble would receive
Emiya Kiritsugu (Master of Saber) [1d4=1, 1d10=9, 1d6=5] - Claimed by Fangstrike, Emiya Kiritsugu arrives in Tristania, capital of Tristain, appearing unnoticed amidst the audience in the Royal Tanaijiiru Theater, where the play Tristania’s Holiday is being acted out (something of a romantic comedy, where a princess of a certain country and a court messenger of another meet, identities hidden, though once they fall in love…they learn each other’s identities and separate. A sad story). Scattered in the audience (of nobles) are conspirators holding whispered conversations about most base treachery and possible overthrow of the government.
Waver Velvet (Master of Rider) [1d4=2, 1d10=2, 1d6=4]- Claimed by Froggie, Waver Velvet falls out of the sky near a small village of orphans in Albion, where is being watched by a gaggle of curious children. The nearest town is a half-day's journey away on foot, and Rider is nearby, looking at home enough in the primitive environment, though he had expected a grander modern age. Welcome to Albion, during the civil war.
Matou Kariya (Master of Berserker) [1d4=2, 1d10=10, 1d6=2] - Claimed by Theocrass, Kariya arrives in Londonium, the capital city of Albion, as a massive naval battle for control is going on in the skies above. The main sky-ships of the line have been gathered for an action in force, and pockets of frenzied skirmishing are taking place in the streets. A fierce fight is being waged, with sword and arrow and magic - and he has been thrust into its midst, with Berserker by his side.
Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi (Master of Lancer) [1d4=4, 1d10=7, 1d6=1] - Claimed by Brynhilde, Lord El-Melloi lands unconscious in the royal palace of Versailles, de facto capital of the fair nation of Gallia. They are in the wine cellar, where they are discovered by the serving staff and are promptly thrown into the dungeons as spies.
Tohsaka Tokiomi (Master of Archer) [1d4=4, 1d10=6, 1d6=2] - Claimed by Milbunk, Tokiomi faceplants into the cargo hold of a sky ship bound from La Rochelle, Gallia to Albion, carrying a large shipment of gunpowder, sulphur, and tomatoes. He is not particularly amused.
Kotomine Kirei (Master of Assassin) [1d4=4, 1d10 = 10, 1d6 = 6] - Claimed by Chaos Greyblood, Kotomine Kirei lands on his feet in an alcove of the cathedral of Lutèce, capital of Gallia, unnoticed by any around him. Should he attempt to move around, he is thought of as a member of the Church and left alone.
Uryuu Ryuunosuke (Master of Caster) [1d4=4, 1d10=5, 1d6=4] - Claimed by LeopardBear, Uryuu Ryuunosuke appears in the Gallian village near Ragdorian Lake, in the royal villa that serves as the prison for the remnants of the D'Orleans family that lost a succession fight for the throne. He is alone, but dazed, in the bedchamber of the insane duchess, where he sees the woman clutching a doll that she calls "Charlotte."
Restricted:
Avenger, Gandalfr to Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière
Springtime Familiar Summoning
Tristain Academy of Magic
She was called Louise (a name that meant "famous warrior") in honor of her fabled mother, in the hope that like her sisters, she would live up to her family's expectations. She was called Vallière, a scion of the greatest noble family in the Kingdom of Tristain. She was called mage and noble, two terms that meant exactly the same thing on the continent of Halkeginia, where the great Founder had bestowed God's blessing of magic upon humanity 6000 years ago, with those touched by its power set apart as those destined to rule over their fellows.
That was her birthright - one she failed to live up to, because in all things, she had fallen short of what others wished of her.
They called her a failure, an existence unworthy of drinking the same air as the rest of them, a fell pretender to nobility. They called her a Zero, a being who might as well be a powerless corpse pretending to be alive. They called her a stain on the perfection that the Founder had bestowed upon the land, rendering her Untouchable, as if she was lower than the lowest of peasants, as if the world would be better off if she were dead, because the fact that a magicless abomination like her existed at all was a scandal and a disgrace to proper society.
Sometimes, in her darker moments, the strawberry blonde named Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière contemplated taking her life, wondering if it would be better than this travesty of a life, because without power, without the ability to change her course, she might as well be dead. What fleeting hopes she'd once nurtured, what dreams she'd once held dear, what goals and aspirations she'd once set for herself - she knew she would never achieve them. And after sixteen years without success at the smallest of spells, no one else was willing to place any faith in her whatsoever.
Not her family. Not her peers. Not her teachers.
Not even she.
So it was that on the day of the Springtime Familiar Summoning, a rite of passage that marked a young noble's transition to adulthood, that Louise walked towards the summoning circle like a condemned convict to the gallows, knowing what the result would be. As much as she had sputtered in defiance to those around her, claiming that she would summon a majestic beast beyond all others to serve as her familiar, she had no confidence that would truly be the case.
For like the others, she knew she was a fraud, and that this attempt would be irrevocably expose her for the pretender that she was.
And as she stepped into the summoning circle, she held onto the hope that maybe if her worst fears were confirmed that at least God would strike her down, allow her the mercy of being destroyed by her own spell, that she might not have to suffer the slings and arrows of another day of torment, because death would be preferable to living down yet another failure, to be shown a true disgrace.
“I beg of you,” the strawberry blonde began, her voice cracking as she knelt before the circle drawn on the ground and uttered the ancient words of rite, waving her wand exactly as she had been taught. “My slave who lives somewhere in the universe, oh sacred, beautiful and strong familiar spirit, I desire and here I plead with my heart… answer my guidance!”
She utter the words, but nothing happened - not even the explosion that usually characterized her spells.
Nothing happened, save that her peers laughed and jeered and crowed at her misfortune, hateful words and insults hurled her way, sinking into her vulnerable spirit.
'I couldn't even manage to die properly...by the Founder, I am worthless...'
Yet all she could do was try again, as others watched, jeered, laughed.
Once more she tried.
Once more she failed.
A broken doll she was, left to whisper, left to beg, and this time, she wept as she invoked the incantation one last time, knowing that if she failed, this time she'd take her own life.
It was better than the alternative.
'Someone...anyone,' the girl pleaded, hoping against hope that something might appear, or that someone might save her, no matter that she didn't deserve it. 'Please...answer my call...'
The wind blew, and still nothing came. Louise thought she felt a sensation of wetness, but it was only hot tears welling up from her eyes and dripping to the ground, the droplets splattering to the dirt, where they marred the perfection of the pentagram - much as she marred the world by existing. She thought she heard sounds, felt the world shaking, but it was only her body being wracked with muffled sobs as the cruelty of the life made itself plain.
Cruel, pitiless laughter echoed in the distance, and slowly, realizing what she had to do to be free of her pain, the girl placed the tip of her wand to under her chin, taking a deep breath as she began to chant the words for fireball, the only destructive spell she knew.
'Oh, is that really it? You don't want it to end here, do you?'
A dark, smooth voice, almost taunting her, shaking her resolve even as she shakily muttered the next few syllables of the spell. She had to be quiet, or else the professor would overhear and stop her...and she couldn't have that.
'If I granted you power, could you go on?'
What? The Voice was louder this time, prompting Louise to freeze, wondering if this was some prank by one of her peers, an overly cruel wind mage, perhaps.
'You don't really wish to die, do you? Then let us make a contract, you and I.'
A contract?
Louise paused now, faltering her in her chant. Was this some demon that called to her, some devil like the one worshipped by the elves?
'You hate them, don't you? This cruel world and those in it, who see you as helpless, who revel in your suffering even as they believe themselves pure. They see you as the embodiment of all failure, and so are satisfied, knowing that however low they fall, they can never be as worthless as you.'
'I...'
'Would you like to see their hope become despair? To see them realize the folly of their dreams, as they have spited yours? To see them weep, little one? After all, the higher up from which something is dropped, the worse the crash will be...'
A cruel, almost hateful laugh, rumbling through her inner depths.
'I...what do...'
'If I come forth as you ask, then in exchange, you must agree to make my one wish come true. Accept this contract, and you accept its conditions.'
'...please...I'll...I'll do anything.'
'Then rejoice, young Vallière.'
A bond was forged. Ominous thunder rumbled on a clear day as wind erupted from the circle in a pillar reaching to the heavens like some ancient titan's nail, chills and pressure assailing all others in the courtyard as rage and grief flowed, molten and untrammeled, from Louise's inner core, pulsing white hot through her veins and nerves, as fire ran.
'What…what is this? This…'
Louise was no longer kneeling, but stood in the midst of a broken battlefield, a desolate, reddish brown wasteland strewn with thousands of corpses, each impaled by a rusted sword. Twilight from beyond the horizon provides this place with a strange illumination, part opaqued by smoke and embers coming from the ground itself.
Blood ran, pooled and congealed, going squish-squish-squish with every step, soaking into the thirsty, barren ground underneath a smoke filled sky through which cloudless lightning bolts arced from plume to plume to ground, the sizzle-flash! Sizzle-flash! Sizzle-flash! of electric violence sending shivers through the spine.
Sizzle-Flash! Rumble…
A red phosphorescence filled the clearing, scattering on the wind.
The smell of blood was thick in the air, and the air itself was full of heat, burning the skin.
The land quaked ominously, as if a giant's teeth were being gnashed together, grinding against one another in frustration as the world burned in this private hell.
Thousands of shadowy shapes dancing about, lupine guffaws chilling as they echoed. A black darkness oozing in the bright red, out of a sea of blood filled with the presence of death - a void of shadows taking human form, like blood congealing over a wound in the world, becoming clearer, more distinct by the moment.
It was a man seemingly clad all in tattoos of blood and crimson-stained cloth, a sheen of shadows underlying his skin, overwrought by lines of pulsing red. The exposed skin of his arms and face were tattooed with strange designs of liquid darkness and the brown of ancient ichor, seeming to draw in all light, and in each of his hands were fang-like daggers, wicked cutting edges dripping with fresh blood.
Even more than the wind, he reeked of blood and darkness, of soul-crushing despair that could swallow up the world…
Overcome with horror, Louise screamed...as the world of chaos splintered around them, returning them to the courtyard, where the gathered others (who had seen naught of the summoning but a pillar of red light) were treated to sight of an odd figure near the Vallière girl, who regarded them with faint amusement, eyes of darkness glinting in the afternoon light as he seemed somehow less...imposing to her.
"Who...who are you?" she managed to ask, wand dropping from nerveless fingers.
"I am one who shares your wish to be free," the other said simply, the figure of darkness spoke, almost grinning with bared teeth as he looked at the petite one that had bound herself to him by contract, fixing his gaze upon the hapless girl. "I...am Avenger, and your wish...has been granted..."
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Originally Posted by asterism42
