Monthly Create-A-Servant Contest

[pinetree]

Hmmmm Morg technically none of them would go to hell because their souls were taken from the cycle of death and rebirth to be put on the Throne of Heroes!

[WhiteFrenzy]

It's really noy about the theme, this is a sorta "interactive" prompt in the sense that it has to explain why said character is there, all according to the prompt's lore. It's definitely not a matter of "they were evil and so they qualify".

I mean... Sure it can happen, but it will not feel like it's engaging with the prompt then. At least in my opinion.

P.S: IT'S NOT A CRITIQUE OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT merely a "this aint an easy prompt at all stop caping" But it's a fun prompt, I'll try my best to participate on it.

[Morg van Destro]

It doesn't have to be in the actual text. You can just put where they qualify in the creator notes, or you could center the sheet around the feature that shows where they would qualify.

[Random]

I literally already made Dante what more do you want from meeeeeee

[Morg van Destro]

My, is that you, Mithra Dear? I could hardly recognize you in that vessel.



Astraea. I could say the same for you. In fact, I’m getting a distinct sense of annoyance when I look at you from it.

Really? I’m actually feeling more respectful. How odd.

Indeed. I see you’ve been called to oversee the transition as well.

Yes, Hades sends his regards, though I am surprised I find you here, but not Charon or Peter.

Charon has been busy ferrying the souls between the afterlifes. Same with Thanatos and many of the other psychopomps. It is why we were called to help with arbitration.

Will we be working alongside Minos then?

Perhaps I can explain.



Due to just how many souls are coming in, the workload has exceeded what even our most experienced arbitrators can work through in a timely manner. As such, you and others have been selected in hopes that we will not spend several years guiding the souls of those long departed to the neglection of the newly so.

Certainly sounds reasonable enough.

You and the other judges will be partnered with a Psychopomp that will lead the souls to their temporary residences. You will also be expected to keep records, as to ensure that no soul goes unaccounted for during such a turbulent time.

Then this shall be a familiar partnership for us, Daena. Though, it will be odd doing this without Rashnu and Sraosha.

Though that would please me, I have actually been assigned to Astraea. However, I think yours has arrived.



Hello.

Hahaha. This is quite the turn. I don’t recognize you though. From what pantheon do you come?

Hmm~ I think... I’m my own pantheon, maybe?

…Let’s get to work then, shall we?

Of course! It would be cruel to allow them to linger any longer.

Yes, let us hurry them along to their temporary eternal punishment. Such mercy.

The modern psychopomp continues smiling blissfully, completely unaware of the sarcasm.

[Serra]

I literally already made Dante what more do you want from meeeeeee

I made a Rider on the 13th of last month with this in his sheet!!!

Dante, on his part, wrote his Comedy years after Rider’s exile and death, but set it at a time in which Rider was still alive: he wrote Rider’s father as eternally burning in hell due his unorthodox philosophical beliefs on the soul, with the implication that, unless Rider had changed his ways in his last days, he may very well have already joined his father there.

[DracoScribe]

...
Welp. There goes my plans on skipping on making a sheet for this month's contest. I cannot ignore another excuse for me to write underworld Servants!
Thank goodness I followed Royd's advice of saving sheets if written near a contest, cause a sheet I was working on recently fits the alternative of the prompt (tho nowhere near done that's for sure so I ain't pullin a royd and posting one today/tomorrow).

[sutaa]

Technically couldn't you just write any pre-Christian Servant and put them in the first circle where the pagans go.

But cool prompt! Time to do some thinking.

[Vance]

You still remembered her; the memory of your first meeting with Lucy. It was a warm day at the park when you first entered and saw Her, sitting at the bench watching the children play blissfully unaware of the darker forces at work. You were like that once too, despite belonging to one of the few magus families in the area. Your family simply…didn't care for these events…these grail wars. And you were like that too…until you met her. That Beautiful Lady.

“Ahem.”

Ah, apologies. You meant…

First Bite (Ascension)

Second Bite (Ascension)

Third Bite (Ascension)

… (Final Ascension)

That Bloofer Lady.

True Name: Lucy Westenra (Bloofer Lady)
Class: Berserker
Alignment: Neutral Good ~ Chaotic Evil
Source: Dracula
Region: England

Parameters (Bloofer Lady):
Strength: E (C)
Endurance: E (C)
Agility: E (A)
Mana: E (B)
Luck: E (E)

Class Skills

Madness Enhancement C
The class skill of the Berserker class. In leu of gaining an increase to all parameters barring Mana and Luck, the recipient loses their ability to reason and higher thinking. For Lucy, in exchange for a rank up in parameters, she becomes feral, driven by instinct instead of reason. Or rather, that is how it is going to be once her transformation is fully complete.

Truly a sad state of affairs, no?

Personal Skills

Beautiful Princess B
A skill beholding a charismatic nature not made for leadership but to bring in and attract people to her from the surroundings. A pure hearted woman that brought in others who came from different walks of life for the purpose of holding her hand as well as those who loved her simple presence. It is that same love that will bring them to announce her death should she lose that once radiant personage.

Unfortunately, it is too late for her. She is already lost, she simply doesn't know it yet.

Vampirism (Transfusion) C
The act of absorbing another's blood to replenish their own health and physical and/or magical strength. However, in this case, the skill can only be utilized through the mundane method of blood transfusion. While, at first, this skill is essentially nonexistent, each visit from “that thing”, a constant need for blood becomes more and more apparent in order for her to maintain her faculties.

Such visits are inevitable. It will not abide by its thrall remaining inactive. Measures against it are simply a momentary roadblock and nothing more.

Powerless Shell (Purity) A-
A variant of the skill that makes the user difficult to perceive as a Servant, declining one's parameters and suppresses one's Skills. A fragile shell of ego enveloped over a tainted soul. The memory of the person she once was becoming a mask over her face and sending the beast inside into a fitful sleep. It does not entirely work to suppress the skills that she holds but focuses on the aspects tied to what lies inside her.

One wonders if the mask is aware that it is nothing more than a memory? A simple look in the mirror would confirm it so.

Noble Phantasm

Bite Of Dracula: Teeth Upon Pure Blood
Rank: C+
Type: Anti-Unit (Self)
The noble phantasm of Lucy Westenra. A representation of her role as the first of Dracula's victims within England. It is the inevitable transformation, the distortion of her very body, mind, and soul into a beast that hungers for blood and flagrantly oozes a depraved, almost sexual, intent in her mannerisms. This noble holds the crux of her power which, in itself, is significant due to being a spawn of Dracula, a “horror that haunts the present world”, and thus, a newborn horror.

However, the transform is not the noble phantasm but the end result of it. The true noble phantasm is the specter of the horror that transformed her, appearing once again to promote a reminder of what she became, an attempt of stripping her fragile mask and reawakening her vampiric nature through delivering a bite each night. It can be warded off with a variety of implements, some provided by Lucy herself, however, they are nothing more than a stopgap and it will visit with increasing ferocity the more it is impeded.

With each bite, more of her distorted self will be revealed. With the first comes a minor need for blood to function and the second enhances her sight and hearing to pinpoint the faintest presences. However, with the final bite, it is a foregone conclusion and Berserker will disperse into white fog and reappear in the night as the “newborn horror in white”, The Bloofer Lady.

As The Bloofer Lady, her parameters increase wildly across and she loses her composure, becoming a maddened beast that acts according to its instincts. Forgoing walking, she also glides across the ground. Her skills gain a tainted quality as Powerless Shell (Purity) is rendered nonfunctional; Beautiful Princess gains a powerful hypnotic effect on individuals though those who find themselves resisting the effect are struck with an enmity against The Bloofer Lady and will pursue her death while Vampirism gains an infectious quality that promotes the eventual development of new vampires.

Bio

If one can describe Lucy Westenra, it would be a pure-hearted soul. Inherently good natured to others, Lucy is a natural sweetheart that easily is able to attract the love of others to herself. It is her charm but what supplements it is her willingness to give her love to others, to bear her heart's warmth. The fragile shell that resembles her is much the same though she is wracked with terrible anxiety. It is a fear of the inevitable, the indescribable cloying feeling of waiting upon the visit of those teeth. She knows fear, for herself, fake as she believes her existence is, and for those who come to love her. For they will likely be the first visited by her.

And such a feeling is right when The Bloofer Lady awakens. The image of purity is forever tainted, replaced by a being who strides forward with seductive, animalistic intent. The Bloofer Lady is filled with a feral greed, a wantonness, that is sated by blood. She speaks with familiar affection only as a retained instinct, seeming like an animal that mimics others for a desired reaction. Nonetheless, it is a newborn and is prone to mistakes…but if allowed to grow…

Author's Note: I...guess this is the first sheet? Huh, weird. The bio points where she should be going even if she, technically, doesn't deserve it. I say technically as the Shell and Bloofer are entirely separate entities but only one of them actually has a soul, tainted as it is. At least, the Shell would be spared from this so silver lining, I guess.

[Morg van Destro]

What a wonderfully sad first entry. Glad we're starting off with a person who probably shouldn't be sentenced to eternal damnation, but will be anyway.

[Scotcheroos]

"It is Magic alone which imparts true science."
-Éliphas Lévi's Doctrine and Ritual of Transcendental Magic

With the expected but still somewhat hard-to-regulate renovations happening after every single pantheon, breaking down and improving the outdated and obsolete underworlds of centuries past for more efficient, superior methods of torture (and boy, isn't that a statement that makes me sound like a fucking sociopath?), the Christian Empyrean was swarmed with literal mountains of paperwork. While the four psychopomps who oversaw the transfer of the damned souls worked in tandem with the souls of the Fourth Sphere, dwelling inside the Sun as beacons and icons of humanity's Prudence, the angels flew hellward into the Circles, supervising the movement of the influc of damned souls.

For the angels assigned to oversee the sixth circle and below, it was a bitter reminder of their brethren's divide. For the walls of Dis, which encompassed the tiers of Hell from the sixth down, were staunchly guarded by angels who had given in to temptation and fallen from perfection. Their very presence a reminder of what could happen to those angels with each passing second. Their vengeful glares a spear through the heart, dragging their morale down as is. While they dwelled in the Throne of Heroes, specters of the Furies and Medusa also roamed the walls, patrolling the ramparts for wayward souls in the City.

"Angels, with me! The less time we must spend here, the better. Keep conversations with the locals to a minimum, the last thing Father would desire is more of our brethren falling because we became too engrossed in a simple conversation." The commanding angel ordered, moving along the barracks with a stony face hiding a heart of grief. Kushiel was many things. As an angel of punishment, he was one of the seven angels to make regular visits to Hell to punish the damned, using his burning whip to punish entire nations' worth of wrathful sinners in Dis' outskirts.

That didn't exactly mean he enjoyed his job.

To be an angel of punishment was to constantly hear the wails, screams and pleas of the damned and to throw them aside to continue their eternal torment. For an angel, a being of light and justice who was meant to help those in need and ease the pain of humans, to perform the exact opposite of such a task was something that was bound to rend an angel's very soul. Kushiel wasn't an angel of punishment because he wanted to be, he was one because they were the only ones with enough mental fortitude to continue their terrible work without going mad.

"Kushiel. Long time no see. Glad to see you're still up and about." A feminine voice called, a small form trudging up to him with tired eyes. With a slender frame, a gleaming white robe and a positively cherubic face, one could not be blamed for mistaking them as an angel of God....were it not for the charred-black wings, the serpentine scales running along their torso and waist, and the armor around their limbs, like a mix of a cleric and a knight.

"Gadreel." Kushiel bit out. No more needed to be said, save for a terse nod and a slight scowl for his feminine brother, related though they may be.

After all, not many angels today held the Serpent of Eden in particularly high regard.

"My men are temporarily halting the flow of souls down by the city, but we can't take long. New souls are still coming in as we speak." The commander of the Sixth Circle's southern rampant rattled off, gesturing to the streets where fallen angels were clearing a path to a raised pavilion featuring a hall of slightly ornate tombs. Kushiel grunted brusquely and turned away, directing his angels to guide the souls towards their temporary torment as Gadreel rolled his eyes in annoyed exasperation. "Brother, it's been literal millennia since Eden. What is it humans say is in the Bible? 'Forgive and Forget', Kushiel. Forgive and forgeeeeeeet."

"Forgive an-, Gadreel, you tricked Eve into eating the Forbidden Fruit! You are singlehandedly responsible for humans leaving the Garden!" Kushiel snapped at his insufferably smug-looking brother as they flew down to the cleared area, supervising the heretical souls to the pavilion. "That isn't exactly something anyone can go 'let's just sweep this under the rug'!"

"That right there is what I like to call 'a matter of perspective'. You see humans leaving the Garden as a terrible thing. I, however, see it as finally letting them free to explore their own potential." The former Wall of God shot back with a huff, before clasping his hands together with a dreamy look in his eyes, "Humans were practically rotting away being stuck in that glorified terrarium with nothing to strive for. Experiencing those hardships let them grow so beautifully into the strong and creative species I see today~ Even Father said that if they were truly united, they could do anything they put their minds to! Haaaah, I wish I could watch them now....~"

".....Were it not for the fact that causing conflict might kick off the end of the world, I swear I would bend you over the knee and-"

"New faces?" A voice suddenly chirped from one of the tombs they were passing, "New faces! And a whole lot of 'em too, sheesh. It's rare seeing you here, Gad. What's the occasion?"

"....What in the...?" Kushiel said softly, looking at the tomb before turning back to Gadreel, "Brother, this is supposed to be Hell, yes? I didn't think any of the sinners were capable of speech nowadays."

"Oh no, I was screaming for a good while when I first came here." The voice piped up before Gadreel could answer, "But after ten years or so, I got tired of screaming. Five years later, I got used to the heat. Five more after that, and I just got bored. The problem with unchanging, eternal torment is that sooner or later that 'eternal torment' is gonna become routine. And the problem with routine is that it gets really boring after a while. I've had almost a century and a half to get acquainted with my tomb, Monsieur Angel. Nowadays I just chat with the guards to pass the time. I think Gary's on shift today, right?"

"This is why I wasn't looking forward to today..." Gadreel grumbled, tiredly rubbing his temples while one of the demons who guarded the pavilion shot him a sympathetic and equally tired look even as he handed the tomb a bag filled with ('Ooooh, marshmallows! Yay! Thanks, Gary!') marshmallows through an open slit at face height as Kushiel gawked in open confusion, "Pain in my ass, meet Kushiel, my brother. He handles the sinners around the outskirts outside the city as the Fifth Circle's punishing angel. Like a soul-crushing office job, but the office is literally Hell. Kushiel? Meet one of the rare magi to actually fall under Inferno's jurisdiction in modern times."

"Hi there~" The voice greeted Kushiel as a hand waved at him from inside the tomb. Kushiel just numbly waved back.

"Who's inside that tomb?"He murmured, leaning in close to Gadreel.

"That's one of the driving forces behind occultism's big names in the modern era. Not only that, but she was responsible for an entire new branch of heretical magicks being created. She's like a growing legend for some of the locals here." Gadreel murmured back, "Her name's..."

"Yahallo~ Caster, Éliphas Lévi has joined the fray! You can call me Éli-chan, if you want......Eh? What do you mean 'that nickname's already taken'?"

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Class: Caster

Other Eligible Classes: Berserker, Alter Ego, Archer, Foreigner

True Name: Éliphas Lévi

Aliases: Alphonse Louis Constant, King of Rituals, Founder of Modern Magecraft Theory

Alignment: Lawful/Chaotic Good/Evil

Attribute: Man

Origin: French History

Region: France

Height: 5'1/155 cm

Weight: 111 lbs/50.35 kg

Traits: Female, Humanoid, Hominidae Servant, Servant, Weak to Enuma Elish, Seven Knights Servant

Catalyst: A copy of La Bible de la liberté

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Talents: Ceremonial magic, Magecraft Theory, Alchemy, Formalcraft, needing correction

Natural Enemy: Aleister Crowley

Likes: Studying Magecraft, experimentation with magic, occultism, dressing in fancy clothes, haute cuisine, cognac, the Helltaker video game

Dislikes: Inflexibility, Freemasonry, spiritualism, the overzealous, escargot, red wine, Dante's Inferno ("Look, I know it's super ironic given the situation I'm in and all, but for fuck's sake, the whole novel sounds like it was written by a pompous prick with a stick so far up his ass it was jutting out of his mouth high enough to hoist a fucking flag!")

Personality: Despite being a scholarly magus renowned for her utmost meticulous attitude when it comes to conducting rituals, Éliphas is hotheaded andpassionate outside of such an activity. She's always zipping about, eager to put any newfound knowledge to use and researching more on Modern Magecraft to see how it had grown. If Paracelsus is an 'ideal teacher' who finds joy in guiding children, then Éliphas is an 'ideal researcher' who finds joy in constant experimentation and new discoveries.

As both a magus and an occultist dwelling within the Throne, Éliphas has long believed that Magecraft could act as a 'bridge connecting the logical with the unknowable' and referred to Magecraft as a whole as 'little more than an esoteric science to master', and considers her efforts to mitigate the dying amounts of Mystery with the logic and knowledge of the World as a 'wonderfully impossible task. One I will achieve with my own blood and sweat.' Following her inspiration's belief that human affection is the most precious thing on Earth and that one must consider their descendants to be the future, she strives to lay down the foundation for future magi to walk should they choose to. She considers herself to be an eccentric magus, but honestly, she's more like a mad scientist that can't recognize that she's a mad scientist.

In manners outside of Magecraft, however.....there's no sugarcoating this, she acts like a complete and utter brat. A light-hearted prankster who likes to mess with Servants and tends to end up toeing the line, she's got a disposition that you can't help but think of as 'complete and utter mesugaki idiot'. Cheerful, full of vigor and eager to learn more about the world, she marches on towards the Root, looking to finally open a gate to the Records with nothing but her own efforts.

Wish for the Grail: "A wish for the Holy Grail? Well, I definitely don't want a path just outright handed to me. I want to open that path with my own work, not the lazy whim or some random magic energy clump. I wouldn't wish for a path to the Root. More like 'a chance to open a path' instead. Let's open the possibility up, and if I couldn't capitalize on that chance? Just means I wasn't ready yet is all."

ParametersParameters:
Strength: D
Endurance: D
Agility: C
Mana: A
Luck: C
NP: B

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Bond DefaultA famous occultist and researcher on the topic of magic, Éliphas Lévi is known far and wide as an original thinker and master of esoteric topics who spurred on the growth of occultic practices, and by proxy paganism and the Wiccan faith. Having written multiple papers and books on the nature and function of magic, she has defined, or perhaps popularized, the public's understanding of rituals and ceremonies that would be considered heretical by the Church.

What the public doesn't know, however, is that Éliphas Lévi was a magus.

An Association Researcher and former apprentice of the Church, the scion of a magus lineage that could barely be called important in any sense of the word, set the stage for what could be called the Clock Tower's most ridiculed and simultaneously most important course. For where Count Cagliostro was the one who enabled it's inception in gathering interest of the public in the occult, and the Norwich family were the ones who, through their funding, enabled the creation of the entire Department as it's patron, it is in fact Éliphas Lévi who set the foundation of Modern Magecraft Theory, and thus she is what one can considered the 'founder' and 'progenitor' of Modern Magecraft as a whole.

....Incidentally, while identifying as a woman, she is intersex and possesses both sets of genitalia. Yes, there's an actual reason behind this, but because this is a character sheet, I'm gonna answer that question only through DMs.



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Bond 1Born as the daughter to a shoemaker in Paris bearing the surname of 'Constant', Éliphas was the only heiress to a shallow Magus lineage who didn't so much as possess a branch of Magecraft to specialize in, let alone a Crest nor any Mystic Codes. She was to be the third generation via her mother's side, and her childhood was fraught not with expectations and demands from her mother, who dearly loved her, but a desire to prove herself and bring the Constant family into the spotlight, even for just a scant second.

However, despite her ambitions, she was still green in terms of experience. To better prepare herself for her forays into Magecraft, Lévi joined a seminary at 22 and gradually gained knowledge of a wide variety of topics involving religion, the Clock Tower, Dead Apostles and more. Though she was well on her way to becoming a priest, for she was skilled in the eyes of her superiors and had quickly become a deacon at the seminary, she left only a week before she was to be ordained and made a true operative of the Church, she left the seminary to pursue her original ambitions after four years of learning. By then, she was already 26 and seemed to be a complete joke in the eyes of the instructors, but she did not let that deter her.

While she did mostly study at the Clock Tower in various courses, slowly but surely gathering more and more knowledge and ways to experiment, she would also occasionally return to Paris to continue working on both her own thesis and some side projects of her own. It was actually one of said projects, La Bible de la liberté, that would lead to her arrest at 31 years old and subsequent connections to two more magus families, both of which would bear her scions. The first was the secret heiress of a fellow minor Magus linage by the name of Noémie Cadiot and her first official marriage, though it was a very obviously loveless marriage and Cadiot herself ran away in the early 50s.

The second lineage, the one by which she had an illegitimate but all the more beloved son with, was a woman by the name of Eugénie Crudelis.



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Bond 2Class Skills:

Item Construction C

A Class Skill of the Caster Class, denoting the ability to manufacture magical items, from implements of war to items for daily use. However, this Skill requires time to gather components and manufacture items.

Famously known for her expertise in ritual magics, Caster is capable of creating Mystic Codes for general usage and high-end ritual catalysts well-suited for Formalcraft. She is also capable of creating alchemical substances and various weak medicines given her knowledge in alchemy.

Territory Creation B-

A Class Skill of the Caster Class, denoting the ability to build a special terrain that is advantageous to oneself as a magus, such as for the purpose of collecting mana, create magic objects, or perform other tasks.

At Rank B, a complete construction of a Workshop becomes possible. Caster can build and maintain a general Workshop dedicated to research and Formalcraft experiments. In other work, she creates a 'ritual grounds' which allows her to fiddle and tamper with spells and wards without the potential consequences affecting the area outside.

However, because she is a modern magus to some extent, her Workshops tend to be shoddier and less defended than other Servants' territories. As such, they're easier to bypass and collect mana less efficiently.



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Bond 3Personal Skills:

Master of Ceremonies A

A composite Skill of All Kinds of Specializations and Magecraft, denoting access to and the use of many professional skills as well as how to utilize modern Thaumaturgy. In Caster's case, all of her professional talents center around magecraft but she is far more skilled in terms of Formalcraft.

Ceremonial magic is considered to be a broad umbrella term for a variety of Magecraft branches which rely on ritualistic actions, clothing, wards and even mindsets to properly manifest their effects into reality. Ranging from specific parts of Numerology to Evocation and possibly even Divination via tarot, all can be considered to be some subset of ceremonial magic as a whole. Caster, being the one said to have laid the foundation of Modern Magecraft, is capable of understanding and properly utilizing all branches and subsequent Skills that fall under said branches so long as she possesses the necessary mana and components.

Equilibrium B

A Skill denoting the ability to identify, manifest and create connections between two juxtaposing or opposite concepts. Whether it is something as abstract as 'red' and 'blue' or something as simple as 'good' and 'evil', so long as they are opposite to one another, Caster can link them together, causing a dissonance effect on those affected by said concept.

Throughout her life, Caster has sought to understand true and complete equilibrium, believing it to be the path to the Akashic Records. This motif has manifested in her works, ideals, beliefs and even her current appearance. All were equal to one another, and their status as opposites to one another in spite of that equality was what kept a great balance in the universal forces perfectly still. Life and death, male and female, good and evil, all were concepts she spoke of to be two sides of the same coin. Yes, it can even be said that Caster's very Origin is that of 'Equilibrium'.

Transcendental Theorem A

A Skill denoting a superior understanding and manifestation of magic. Different from Inherent Wisdom, which denotes unparalleled natural knowledge and allows the use of most Skills and B Rank or higher, or All Kinds of Talents, which denotes to do anything the user practiced when alive and quickened learning on unfamiliar matters, this Skill allows for the user to quickly and easily comprehend and incorporate any form of Magecraft into their arsenal no matter what branch it may belong to. However, the Skill is limited only to magic, and will not allow for heightened proficiency in anything else. Works in resonance with Master of Ceremonies.

In life, Caster wrote a thesis on the nature of magic and listed nine key tenets for all aspiring occultists to abide by and remember. She argued that true Science could be attained by the lesser mind through Magecraft, and attempted to condense and broaden the centuries-old history of Magic into an easy-to-understand and use guide on Magecraft through said tenets. Through making the innate understanding of Magecraft shallower and adapting it to modernity via the inclusion of science, she successfully theorized a new branch of Magecraft geared to the current and future eras.

In other words, she laid the foundation and building blocks of Modern Magecraft Theory, and singlehandedly added a new Department to the Clock Tower's curriculum through her work.



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Bond 4The year is 1855. The Industrial Revolution had come and gone, and with it Mystery was dying at an exponentially faster rate than any magus in the world was comfortable with. Fresh out of imprisonment under Napoleon III's despotic government, Éliphas had worked tirelessly in her research as she made connections to prominent figures both mundane and otherwise.

Seeing the leaps and bounds caused by humanity's rapid advancement and participating in a philosophical gathering with civilians, Éliphas came up with a theory. What if magi could stem the decline of Mystery with the very science that stole it? By compressing it into a broad understanding, then using the still unexplored areas of the newfound sciences to patch the holes within that understanding, a theoretical new method of utilizing Magecraft is born. A simpler, easy-to-use and shallow Magecraft that would require less Mystery to activate and use less as a result.

Riding off of the coattails of the growing scientific fields and leeching off of their untapped potential, using the very public the magi were meant to keep in the dark as an indicator and power source in turn. By sacrificing power in exchange for versatility and efficiency, she claimed that they could slow the decline of the World's Mystery. Naturally, her thesis was a hit....in the mundane world, where Spiritualism was on the rise and civilians thought 'magic' was still something from fairy tales. For the magi of the Clock Tower, Éliphas was practically laughed out of conference halls and seemed to turn into the black sheep of the Mage's Association overnight.

Still she persevered, continuing her work and writing various books on the relationship of science and magic, as well as ways to link the two together. She would continue to release numerous papers and theses on the topic until her death on May 31, 1875. Only two years later, unable to ignore the declining rate of Mystery any longer, the magus families that had once laughed at Éliphas Lévi's works reluctantly picked them up and began to read.

Thirty years after her death, at the cusp of the beginning of the 20th century, the Department of Modern Magecraft Theory was built.



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Bond 5Noble Phantasms:

Sabbatic Goat

Baphomet

Rank: C+
Classification: Anti-Army, Anti-Mind
Range: 25-55
Maximum Targets: 55 People

"Symbol of dissonant harmony, manifest thyself. Through slaughter, you shall know salvation. Through the fire of intelligence, you shall return to the waters of innocence. Show them enlightenment and depravity, o deity who presides over the Witches' Sabbath!

Sabbatic Goat

Baphomet

!"

A facsimile of the infamous goat-headed god said to have been worshipped by the Knight Templars. Not the actual deity manifest, this is instead a magical copy brought to life through Caster's hand in designing what is now the most well-known rendition of Baphomet the god. Acting like a semi-sentient Puppet Body, the Baphomet copy will obey her commands and allows for the rapid usage and calculation of esoteric spells at a moment's notice. Despite the connection to fire, Baphomet does not gain a plus modifier in using fire spells. It does, however, gain a plus modifier in effectiveness when fighting enemies of the Abrahamic faiths.

It also seems to possess some modicum of an actual personality, though whether that's because of an implanted pseudo-personality at Caster's hands or through conceptual leakage from the actual Baphomet, the answer is really up in the air.

---

The Doctrine and Ritual of High Magic

Dogme et Rituel de la Haute Magie

Rank: B
Classification: Anti-Unit (Self)
Range: -
Maximum Targets: Éliphas Lévi

The second Noble Phantasm of Éliphas Lévi. It is the constantly present mask she wears on her face, and is in actuality a high-level Mystic Code that acts as a complete information repository of Modern Magecraft as a whole. Through activating this mask, Éliphas can instantaneously manifest and cast any and all spells that fall under the umbrella term of 'Modern Magecraft', and given that Modern Magecraft itself is meant to be incredibly specialized and require a large amount of components and snippets of different fields to even begin to properly utilize, the ability to quickly and efficiently manifest their effects is....fairly useful.

However, due to both the weakening Mystery of modern times, as well as the shallow history of Modern Magecraft's branches, the spells themselves tend to be only decent in output, and any Servant with Magic Resistance of C Rank or higher can easily shrug them off.

Incidentally, if she activates Internet Magecraft with this mask and integrates it into Baphomet, there is a 100% chance that during Baphomet's manifestion, it just gains the almighty power of Goat Simulator 3.



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Bond ExtraThe year is 1910. The Atlas Institute has not yet recovered even three of the special contracts they'd printed over 1500 years ago. Ergo is still digesting the corpses of the three Gods fed to him, and Log Crudelis Hiram is only the fledgling Heir of the Crudelis lineage. Just barely outside of Paris itself, an elderly woman is helped along the rows of neatly placed gravestones in Ivry Cemetery, leaning weakly against the shoulder of a middle-aged man as he guides her.

The woman's name was once Eugénie Crudelis. Once, she was to be a 'spare heiress' of the Crudelis family, one of the Six Source Families of Atlas Academy before she ran away, just barely managing to escape the underground labyrinth in 1840 through effort, planning and a miraculous amount of luck. No longer willing to return to the labyrinth but left without identification of herself, she was left to hitchhike from place to place, using her Magecraft to travel before stowing away on a ship that would eventually whisk her away to France.

But that is long in the past. Eugénie Crudelis, heiress and magus of the Exoform Traditional Feature, no longer exists. Now, she is simply Eugénie Chabrier, a mundane old woman visiting her deceased lover. Taking a path guided by muscle memory, Eugénie eventually stops at an grave of warm stone, sitting in the sunlight. She knows that her lover had long since been dug up and sent to a common grave, but part of her wants to see the beautiful place they were once buried.

"Mother?" The man says quietly, staring at the same grave she is. Eugénie turns to the man, her beloved son who she shared neither her nor her lover's surnames, but was still their dear child all the same. "You've told me so much about her since I was born. The one who fathered me, yet could never see me in person. The woman of equilibrium who praised my education, but never in person. I remember all the things you said about her, but....was she a good person? Really, truly, as kind of a person you say she is?"

Eugénie thinks back to the past her. A tired, paranoid girl barely nineteen years old, wandering the streets of Paris in unending terror. Meeting and befriending Noémie. Finding a home of her own. Meeting the somewhat mischievous writer who often came by the city square, writing away in little notepads with a glimmer in her eye with a smile on her face. The endless times she and Noémie had spoke to her.

Gradually falling for Éliphas, year after year. The countless nights together, basking in each other's presence as the moon hung over their forms. Knowing heartbreak when Éliphas married Noémie out of obligation, becoming a shoulder for her to lean up when their children passed in the face of a ruthless world. The nights spent comforting Éliphas when her former friend fled from marriage with her. Learning about the dreams and ideals she held, appealing both to the magus and the lovestruck maiden in her. Kindness. Generosity. A desire to persist even when the world seemed to grind against her will. Falling for Éliphas all over again.

Eugénie smiles. It is a kind, wide and ever-grateful smile as she wordlessly nods to her son. She does not speak. Even with her vocal chords deteriorating, her expression holds more than enough love for Eugénie to convince their child.

"...I see. That's all I needed." Her son replies quietly.

When they leave the graveyard that day, there's a small bouquet laying in front of the tombstone. Daisies and purple delphiniums. Their favorite flowers, together at last.



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RelationshipsParacelsus: "P-P-Paracelsus?! He's really here? Oh, I gotta him, Master, please! Can you point me out to where he is? I have so many theories I want to test, and his alchemical prowess would be perfect for some of them!"

Helena Blavatsky: "I will admit, while I am flattered that my work had inspired your own beliefs.....why spiritualism?! Autonomous spirits as a whole are too rare and incapable to be considered a viable phenomena! Most 'hauntings' don't even tend to be actual hauntings, more mental illnesses or pranks! And that's not even talking about the few poltergeists we find usually controlling magnetic currents to interact with the world, and mostly just following through set routines....Truth be told, I'm a tad bit sullen."

Avicebron: "A Kabbalist? I admit, my own theories were called 'Kabbalistic', but I would love to compare notes. I always did want to study more Numerology at the Tower..."

Zhuge Liang: "I see. So you're the current Head of Modern Magecraft Theory, correct? Tell me, how fares the Department nowadays? The Grail had told me that it replaced Policies, but I don't know anything beyond that."

Fran-chan: "Ooooooooh....your Galvanism is a marvel to behold. Please, can I get another demonstration? I have something I want to test about your electricity, and it might be beneficial to Master later on! I just need finishing touches for a Mystic Code I've been tinkering with, and your electricity might be the final piece to the puzzle!"

Alessandro Cagliostro: "I heard that you met Helena sometime in Tibet, Monsieur Cagliostro. Tell me, you didn't try anything...untowards to her, did you? Helena doesn't often grow angry without good reason, and different though she may be...she is still a disciple of mine, you see. So don't even bother trying to make excuses, you hear? What you say determines whether or not I test to see if a Servant can get cancer or not."

Abigail Williams: Caster can be found making pancakes for breakfast every now and then when she's not busy with research or holed up in her Workshop. Whenever she does so, she alwys makes sure to make an extra stack for Abby. It seems the Foreigner girl has taken a liking to Caster's pancakes for whatever reason.

....Might have something to do with Caster slipping caramel syrup into the batter whenever she makes it, all things considered.

Jacques FeMolay: ".....Heh. Heheheh! S-Sorry, it's just, I can't believe you got slapped with little Baphy there! I heard about the sham trials you got put through, but to think my rendition of the deity you were said to have worshipped got connected to such a degree.....pft! Hahahahahaha! I can't stop laughing! This is hilarious!

"Oh? You seem sooooo angry with me~ So?~ What are you gonna do about it, huh?~"

Éliphas is shaking her ass tauntingly at an increasingly furious Molay, which isn't helped by the very much angry chibi goat glaring daggers at the Caster. Her 'smug brat' aura certainly doesn't help things either. You can't help but feel like Éliphas just pissed off either Shub-Niggurath or Molay AND Shub-Niggurath, and just hope Chaldea isn't a smoking pile of rubble tomorrow....

Napoleon III: "Pah. I don't hold you accountable for struggling to follow in your uncle's footsteps. I don't blame you for floundering about trying to lead your empire. But I do blame you for what your rule did to the people. How they suffered, crushed by the boot of your despotic government. Say what you will, Louis-Napoleon....but at least own up to your mistakes."

Franz Anton Mesmer: "The man who discovered mesmerism, in the flesh! Please, have a seat. I've done research on your field, and I wish to compare notes with you. That, and I hear that mesmerism has been further refined in the pursuit of psychology. May we have a scholarly discourse? Something tells me that there are things we may discover than apart, in a manner of speaking!"

Giovanni Aldini: "Seemingly, he is a master of reanimation and a scholar in he art of elctricity, but....I dunno. He might be able to reanimate those bodies, but he never attempts to learn how to better reconstruct said bodies, or even restore them to their former glory. And I know that's possible, considering the Necromancy branch extensively covered that back when I was still a student! His methods are just....too amateurish at the moment."

The Creeper Virus: "Oooooooh. So you are the first virus the Internet ever knew? Don't sell yourself short now! Your presence has singlehandedly advanced it's progression by leaps and bounds! Even malware is known to be legendary for a reason! Those repetitive cycles, those ever-expading instnces of 'you' can build the foundation of something turly amazing, I think!"

The Internet: "I like him. He's fun to mess with. If he ever gets too big for his britches, all I need to do is say 'The Internet is for porn' and he immediately forgets what he's saying.....though that's usually because he's chasing me around in a blind rage, but. Oh well!"

Galileo Galilei: "Five hundred years ago, man thought the Earth was flat. Fifty years ago, man thought HIV was spread through proximity. Five years ago, man thought we had found the Holy Grail of science. Imagine what man will think we have done in five days. Hah! If they decry you and call you heretic, ignore them. The masses always bay and cry over what they cannot comprehend. That is something that will never change."

Johannes Kepler: "Herr Kepler! Please, come in! Your laws on planetary motion and the introduction of elliptical orbits have completely revolutionized how we understand the universe! Just meeting you is a great honor for me, sir!"

Caroline Herschel and William Herschel: Caster can occasionally be found working alongside the siblings, studying the stars through their telescopes and marking anything down that they may have missed. She's also very fond of the occasional tunes that William plays when they're all relaxing.

René Descartes and Francine Descartes: "Guh! They're both.....so cute....! They remind me of my own kids.....shit, now I'm sad."

J. Robert Oppenheimer: "We are all monsters, Oppenheimer. All humanity holds the potential to become monsters of sin and malice just as we hold the potential to become saints of virtue. You who lost yourself in your grief and what your creations caused, I won't begrudge you that. But don't you dare forget, just as we are evil, so are we good. A race of beautifully terrible contradictions."

'Little and Large': "To live with a purpose is something I can't deny, but to make that purpose your entire reason for living is a fool's errand. I know of their past. I know of their desires. But look at Rufus. Their little brother, destined to be a weapon of mass destruction but still striving to become more than what he was quite literally built to do! I just....hope someone can talk them down from the Throne of Pity. Maybe Rufus, actually. They tend to give him a lot of slack given who he is."

'Rufus': "I can't interact with him much without his power bank, but whenever I get the chance to, I just....like to chat with him. About the world after I passed. What humanity discovered since then. Sure, I ask for lessons on nuclear physics, both to add to my knowledge of the field and to see what sections I can cordon off from Modern Magecraft, but the kid doesn't want to be the weapon he was always envisioned to be. Far be it for me to try to force otherwise."

The Antikythera Babby: "An astrolabe who's efficiency perfectly matches both geocentric and heliocentric system viewpoints? A manifested Relic straight from the Age of Gods?! I....ahem, no no, I gotta control myself. But....but just a little biiiiiit.....I wanna test her functions myse-he-he-helf...."

....While Éliphas goes out of her way to show restraint around Rufus, it seems the same can't be said about his girlfriend. Yes, I said girlfriend. Spent fuel poolshipping for the win!

Baphomet: "Ah. So that's why I can't manifest as an Archer nowadays. Baphy takes over whenever people try to summon me in that Class. I think they're still mad I connected them to the Sabbatic Goat.....Heh~ Not like they can do anything about it now, though~ Nyehehehehehe~"

Aleister Crowley: "CROOOOOOOWLEEEEEEEEY! You've strayed too far from the path I tried to set up, you fool! How could you betray my ideals? My teachings? How could you pursue a big tiddy alien goth gf?! It's common sense that a big tiddy demon goth gf would be infinitely better!"

Have I mentioned that Éliphas likes the Helltaker games for a reason? I feel like I should have mentioned that. She's really into Judgment, btw.




Related DialogueParacelsus: "To think that there was even one soul who took my works to heart. Even if it were not to share Magecraft with the public, the act of furthering fields of science to the benefits of all people in the world....I approve. You, Éliphas Lévi, are one who understands why I studied the Root. Come, let us discuss whatever you wish. It is the least I can do, for one who....who would have been an ideal successor for me."

Helena Blavatsky: "Admittedly, Ms. Lévi's were a massive contribution to my understanding of the universe and my Theosophy, but they were only one building block out of dozens upon dozens. Even so, I didn't think that she would be this big of a name when it comes to Magecraft. The creator and founder of Modern Magecraft Theory, hm....? I would definitley want to talk to her about her work...."

Avicebron: "It's rare to meet a fellow Kabbalist here....no, I suppose it would be wrong to say you are a Kabbalist. Rather, you are 'one who studied the Kabbalah' but didn't fully immerse yourself in the field. Still, I would love to speak with you. I myself want to see how exactly it has affected your own philosophies and theories."

Zhuge Liang: "Personally, I don't have any beef with her. If anything, being singlehandedly responsible for the foundation and formation o an entire Department of the Clock Tower is a feat almsot unheard of in it's entire history. But! I'm still angry that the Department inadvertently created is the reason I'm getting carpal tunnel and grey hair! I'm only in my early thirties! I can't be getting grey hairs at this age, right...?"

Alessandro Cagliostro: "Ah, ahahaha....I will admit that I expected her to be angrier with me about my connection to the Foreign Planet, but to think that she actually wanted to know about how Mademoiselle Blavatsky spent time in Tibet....I'm almost relieved, really. N-Now, please excuse me, I need to see Miss Nightingale for a spell or two."

Fran-chan: Fran was all too happy to help Caster with her experiment early on, and it seems that in thanks Éliphas has given her pseudo-circuit arm bracers that help her channel her Galvanism more efficiently into her mace. Fran beams happily every time she looks at the bracers.

Abigail Williams: "Nomnomnomnom.....staaaaaaaaaare. One day. One day I'll find out how she makes these pancakes so sweet and smooth and fluffyyyyyy. One day...."

Jacques FeMolay: "....I'm calm, Master~ Don't worry now, I'm perfectly calm~ I'm just going to calmly get up now, calmly head on over to her room, and calmly shove my fucking sword up that ass she's so proud of~~~!!!!!

"Geh! Lemme go! Lemme go, Master! She won't die from one measly little stab! M-Maybe! Probably! It would be worth it in the long run, I swear!"




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Bond FinalBible of Liberty



"I wrote that book at my lowest point. I wrote it believing that God no longer saw man, and man exploited the image of God to profit for the sake of temporary pleasures. That neither God nor man were to be trusted on their own. We were creatures of society, and thus we needed one another in order to stay restrained. But to remain with one another were to drive us in turn to peer pressure, herd mentality and the foolishness of the bandwagon phenomnon. A race of ever-lasting contradictions that dragged us down as much as it hoisted us up.

"...I'm glad. I'm glad I saw that I was wrong. Even after leaving the Church, I could reconcile with my faith, though I could not convert back to it. Even after leaving the Tower, I could live a happy life, though the shackles of the Association always drifted out of sight. But it didn't matter to me. None of it mattered, when I was with the one I loved.

"Do you understand, Master? The souls of all men and women lie in a constant state of equilibrium. A perpetual balance of cycles and karma. But even so, all it takes is a single person to change that equilibrium. The most minute glance, the most subtle shift can send ripples that resound across humanity. A single stranger can change your life for the better or the worse. All I ask, Master, is that when you become that 'single person', outside of Chaldea in the world of the ordinary.....make the choice you think is right."



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Art SourcesÉliphas' FC is some fanart of the main character in this music video here. Interestingly, the character in said music video is canonically named 'Baphomet'. So....I had to, okay!?

The Bond CE is a picture of Éliphas' first major work, the 'Bible of Liberty', taken from this shitty page here.. Don't ask me why it's got a synopsis of Machiavelli's work. I don't know either.



NotesI wrote that entire intro snippet while sleep-deprived and running on pure inspiration and insomnia. If you think it's ass, don't worry. I think it's ass too. Speaking of ass, based on the music video Éliphas' FC is from, she canonically has an absolute dumpy and she isn't afraid to flaunt it. It's one of her strong points, she says. I couldn't find a dcent place to put that fact, but it's there. It's true.

IRL, Éliphas' illegitimate son was born to 'Eugénie C', but still I am an idiot who likes lore, I just turned that C into the initial for a magus lineage. Picked Crudelis on a whim only to find out they actually had a good amount of lore attached to them and had to work around that. Loremasters, please spare me, I was sleep-deprived.

There is a very legitimate reason to her being intersex, I swear.

[TrueMrMultiverse]

Very well done Smoke!

wasn't expecting that ending, pulled at the heartstrings

[Vididii]

Oh I actually really like her! Good personality, sheet has a nice voice, and I like that the Baphomet is distinctly a facsimile, which pairs well with her writings being used to inform the modern world of the picture of magecraft- all her own perspective

[Vance]

Do the characters need to not seek forgiveness from God specifically or do they not desire forgiveness in general?

[Scotcheroos]

Do the characters need to not seek forgiveness from God specifically or do they not desire forgiveness in general?

I think it's a matter of whether they sinned or not, given that based off of the prompt they're coming from other pantheons. Heck, you can just go the easy route and say 'they go in the sixth circle because they weren't Christian and that's the sin of heresy', really.

[OddEyedDuelist]

Within Inferno, two unfortunate demons were discussing the grunt work of managing the sudden influx of souls. Of course, with so many souls, even the psychopomps could not handle all of the influx, so it was up to the demons to do their duty in moving and appropriately punishing sinners - or, in this case, those who did not reach paradise. In particular, they were discussing the soul of an Irishman. An Irishman from its mythical period. A period that was a quiet bugbear for many demons and malebranche - if only because the custodians of the Irish texture were so...fickle about how they handled their underworld and afterlife. Some guessed they didn't even have one or that they had many. Regardless, stray souls periodically found their way to the Inferno, and it caused a mountain of paperwork every time.
Having to deal with them again - even in an official context - was just about the last thing anyone had on their minds - some trying (and failing) to skimp work, claiming headaches of all things.
And this particular Irishman was set to make that headache much worse.
“So, where do you think he even goes?”
"I mean, Heresy is the easy one, right? He didn't know of Christ, after all. We get strays from his area even under normal circumstances, and we typically put them there."
"Yeah, but that answer's boring. Especially if we'll only have him for a little bit, we should at least try and put him somewhere more personally fitting."
“Hmm, I mean, we’ve got a few options for him. He fought his foster brother for a girl, that could get him in the circle of Lust?”
“Yeah, but he resisted her offers, and only agreed to fight his friend when he was insulted: that’s obviously pride as the primary sin-”
“He’s escaping!” A loud crash was heard, alongside the shout that carried those words.
“Oi! Don’t mischaracterize it! I’m not escaping-”
A figure crashed in front of the two demons who had been discussing his fate.
“I’m going deeper.”
Claws carved deeply into one demon, sending it flying backwards. A clawed hand wrapped around the other’s neck.
“W-what are you doing?” The demon choked out, trying to pry the man’s hand from its throat.
“Well, I overheard you talking about me fighting my old buddy earlier. And it got me thinking. I want to fight him again. But I don’t want to go at him the same as I was last time.”
The grip on the demon’s throat tightened.
“So I’m gonna use this time to get some extra work in. See how much better I can get. You guys respawn in here, right? So don't worry too much, they'll shoo me out the door eventually.”
“L-e-let…me…go-” The demon choked.
“And by the way, to answer your question?”
Crack
“I think your buddy was right about me belonging in pride.”

Lancer of the Horned Skin
Other Classes: Saber, Rider, Shielder
True Name: Ferdiad mac Daman
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Place of Origin: Ireland (Connacht)
Height: 187cm

Weight: 85kg
Likes: His own strength, Fighting, Earning Rewards
Dislikes: Sore Losers, Being tricked into a fight he doesn’t care for
Natural Enemy: Cu Chulainn

Parameters
STR: B
AGL: C
END: B
MAG: C
NP: A
LCK: E

Class Skills:
Magic Resistance C:
A class skill inherent to the Lancer Class. At the rank of C, it can negate any spell with a chant of two verses, but it cannot defend against Greater Magecraft. Of course, Ferdiad’s Noble Phantasm will defend against all sorts of Magecraft, so he doesn’t particularly care.

Personal Skills:
Battle Continuation C:
As someone who specializes in defense, and is considered to have an invincible defense, Ferdiad does not get the opportunity to exercise this skill often. As such, he does not have the legendary endurance and the ability to fight without stopping that other heroes possess. However, the more injured Ferdiad gets, the more excited he gets - as he is finally presented with a properly challenging battle. As such, fueled by excitement, Ferdiad will continue fighting even with severe injuries.

Clis of Dun Scaith B:
Clis
Often translated as “feats”, Clis are the martial arts techniques that defined an Irish Hero. Inhuman, dazzling, and overwhelming techniques that few could resist, and the proliferation of such skills are what led to the battles that populated the Ulster and Fenian cycles to be so violent and bloody.
Among the most valued teachers of these techniques was the Witch of Dun Scaith, Scathach - a genius of both magecraft and physical combat. Few survived her training, but those who did became some of the most renowned and unparalleled warriors the island had ever seen - such as Naoise, Cu Chulainn, and Ferdiad.
Ferdiad, although equal in skill with Cu Chulainn, did not rely on his Clis to the same degree. Much of the Clis taught by Scathach focused on agility and fast-paced combat. Ferdiad, meanwhile, preferred to fight by relying on his strength and steadfastness.
As such, Ferdiad lacks the ability to perform a Clis such as the Salmon’s Leap, which is pure mobility. However, Ferdiad can employ an adjusted version of the Toranchless. Rather than killing 100 enemies in the blink of an eye - akin the a rush move in a video game - Ferdiad’s Toranchless is a thunderous blow wherein the force of the initial strike ripples out against surrounding enemies like an explosion.

Golden Rule (Spoils of Connacht) B-:
During the Tain Bo Cuailnge, Queen Medb and King Ailill of Connacht offered countless rewards in order to convince champions to confront Cu Chulainn. This culminated in the spectacular offers that they offered Ferdiad Mac Daman, the only man on the island willing and able to fight Cu Chulainn.
As such, Ferdiad possesses the ability to gather wealth by defeating enemies. While this means that he will not have the convenience of instant wealth that a normal [Golden Rule] user would have, it does allow Ferdiad to potentially ramp up his wealth to the point that it will surpass those who possess an equivalently ranked [Golden Rule].
…
Or well, that would be the case, but as Ferdiad did not earn his splendid reward in his life (as Cu Chulainn defeated him) he will always receive a little less wealth than he would expect.


Noble Phantasm:
“You wanna know something about me?”
“I was Connacht’s Greatest Champion. No one could challenge me…well, except for the man who eventually killed me.”
“Even Fergus couldn’t beat me if he tried.”
“I’ll admit, I cheat a little. Well, I cheat a lot.”
“Because there’s one thing you need to understand about me, and it's that-”
“I’M FUCKING INVINCIBLE”

Edged Armor that Repels Death
Congancheness
Rank: A
Type: Defense
An “armor of spears” - the Horned Skin of Irish Mythology that made its user invincible. It is an armor that enforces cause and effect.
The purpose of armor is block attacks. When an attack is made, armor will block it.
[Congancheness] enforces this relationship of causality. Whenever an attack is made against Ferdiad, a piece of [Cogancheness] will appear wherever Ferdiad would be hit, intercepting the attack. These “smokey” pieces of [Cogancheness] reduce any damage they intercept by 80% - combined with Ferdiad’s natural durability, this means that many attacks will simply fail against Ferdiad.
However, [Congancheness]’s true power is revealed when it faces another Noble Phantasm. The moment another Noble Phantasm is launched, even if Ferdiad is not aware of its use, [Congancheness] will activate in its full form, engulfing Ferdiad fully. Fully assembled, [Congancheness] will reduce the offensive power of the next attack it receives to 0%, while also increasing its own defensive power to 100% of the target's maximum power.
In short, it is an absolutely unbeatable defense.

One would perhaps come to the conclusion that the only way to defeat such a defense would be to never deal with it in the first place.
Perhaps a weapon that beats [Cognacheness] at its own game would work.
Even the greatest armor would not be able to defend against a spear that kills before it is used, after all.

Lore

A warrior from Connacht in the Ulster Cycle. In his youth, he trained with the warrior woman Scathach, where he met fellow student Cu Chulainn. They quickly became the closest of friends, the most airtight of companions, inseparable.
Cu Chulainn and Ferdiad were Scathach’s greatest students, and as such, were entrusted with weapons and techniques unavailable to her lesser students. Cu Chulainn was entrusted with the Gae Bolg, while Ferdiad was given the Congancheness. The Spear that never lost and the Armor that never failed. Sometimes, the pair wondered what would happen if they were to pit their weapons against each other.
During their time training under Scathach, the two were close to equal. They were far above their fellow students in power and skill, and in terms of personal combat, they were near equal…
But it seems Cu Chulainn always had an edge of sorts. In the battles Scathach led her students in, Cu Chulainn was more successful. If one of them faltered in battle and needed help, it was Ferdiad.
When the duo graduated, they parted ways.
Perhaps it was Ferdiad’s growing awareness of the gap in their skills that made it so easy for Ferdiad.
Afterwards, Ferdiad distinguished himself in his home province. He earned fame as one of the greatest warriors in Ireland. In time, it became common knowledge that Cu Chulainn, Conall Cernarch, and Ferdiad Mac Daman were unmatched among the warriors of Ireland.
However, unlike the other two, Ferdiad never cared to endear himself to his province’s ruler. He was not a frequent presence at the feasts of Medb and Ailill. He would appear for battle, win his glory, and return to his own dwelling as quickly as he came.
Then, came the Tain Bo Cuailnge. Ferdiad remained uninvolved at first. He had no interest in attacking Ulster. Nor did he have any interest in fighting his friend.
However, when the cattle raid had drawn on long enough, Medb put her foot down, and sent satirists to shame Ferdiad if he refused to join the campaign. With his reputation on the line, Ferdiad assented to travel to meet Medb and Ailill.
Ferdiad, although joining the Connacht forces on the march, initially refused to fight. If he was to fight Cu Chulainn, he would do it on his own terms and for his own reasons.
So he rejected Medb’s offers of gold, her daughter’s hand in marriage, and even the offer to share Medb’s bed.
It would appear that the discussion would stalemate until Medb said the words that sealed Ferdiad’s fate:
“Well, I guess the mutt was right.”
Ferdiad narrowed his eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, it’s nothing in particular, just that…well…I overheard something the mutt said once. ‘Of course Ferdiad won’t show his face. He knows he can’t beat me.’”
At that moment, all those emotions rushed back to Ferdiad. The feeling of the gap between himself and Cu Chulainn, the feeling of needing to rely on him.
“His head will be on your lap by tomorrow.”
…
The duel between former friends lasted three days. They used every weapon, every clis they had learned against each other. They even developed new clis each day from the strain of combat.
Each night, their bond threatened to end the duel as they collapsed into each other, sharing food and care alike.
Each morning, neither would back down.
Each day, Ferdiad made no more progress against Cu Chulainn than Cu Chulainn made against him - in spite of Ferdiad being shielded by his horned skin while Cu Chulainn had not yet used Gae Bolg.
On the eve before the fight’s final day, Ferdiad refused to talk or interact with Cu Chulainn.
The next day, Ferdiad fought like he had never fought before, securing the advantage over Cu Chulainn for the first time in their lives.
An advantage Cu Chulainn immediately negated, using the Gae Bolg and killing Ferdiad.
After striking the fatal blow, Cu Chulainn was overcome with emotion, cradling his companion in his arms.
Ferdiad, for his part, could only choke out his last words.
“You…damned…cheater.”

Personality

Ferdiad is, at his core, not dissimilar from a certain blue-clad Lancer.
Possessing a superficially cool attitude and a lust for battle, Ferdiad is the sort of older brother figure one cannot help but wish to emulate (even if he is a bad example).
And Ferdiad is, well and truly, a bad example. Self-centered, bloodthirsty, arrogant, and prone to both hypocrisy and envy, Ferdiad is not one who could be considered a role model with regards to anything but skill in combat.
However, Ferdiad’s multitude of flaws all stem from the one trait more central to him than any other - his nature as a warrior. He possesses a fierce competitive drive and is not the type to taunt or belittle lesser opponents, confronting them with the same seriousness that he would confront a champion who was truly his equal. The very idea of disrespecting an opponent deeply unsettles him - to actually do it would cast an insane weight onto his psyche.

Relationships

Cu Chulainn: “....”
(Ferdiad appears to be avoiding Cu Chulainn.)

Queen Medb: “Aye, I guess she was my monarch in life. But I didn’t much care for her or her conflicts, and that stays the same here. Keep us from working together.”
Although Ferdiad would like to resent her for her role in leading to his death, his pride as a warrior means that he refuses to blame her. However, he would still rather avoid working with her.

Fergus Mac Roich: “So, that’s the guy Cu Chulainn kept talking about? I ran into him briefly when I showed up at the Tain Bo Cuailnge, but I spent most of my time there dealing with Medb and Ailill. Talking to him now…Cu Chulainn definitely wasn’t exaggerating.”
Ferdiad and Fergus could not be more different in temperament. Where Fergus is hot-blooded and self-indulgent, Ferdiad is cool-headed and single-minded. As such, Ferdiad often finds himself caught off-guard when Fergus tries to be friendly with him or tries to involve him in group activities with the other Irish Servants.

Hektor: “So, I hear you’re a rival to a famous hero too. Well, out with it, when do you plan on getting your rematch with him? You don’t want to fight him again? What a weirdo.”
Although one might be inclined to think Ferdiad and Hektor could relate to each other on account of the similar roles in legend, the sheer difference in their respective relationships with their “rivals” makes them completely unable to relate with each other.

Pentheselia: “Hey, what’s got her so worked up--HEY WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAII II-”
Unfortunately, Ferdiad made the mistake of being a confident, invulnerable, green-haired warrior (and thus, definitely Achilles), in Penethselia’s presence.
Fortunately, Cogancheness will protect Ferdiad from her ruthless assault.
Unfortunately, that just means she can now bounce him off of walls like a pinball.
He simply should not have been Achilles if he wanted to avoid this fate.

Achilles, Siegfried: “So, you’re invincible as well?...Excellent! Let’s test our defenses against each other right away! I’m sure you’ll find that mine is the best!”
Needless to say, Ferdiad’s competitive spirit flares up when encountering other Heroic Spirits who are famed for their invulnerability, and he can’t resist the temptation to pit his Cogancheness against whatever protects them.

Lucy Westenra/The Bloofer Lady (Vance): "...Your fate's a damn pity. That settles it, when you lose control, I'll kill ya."
A simple statement. An offer of mercy extended by a warrior in the one way he can.

Eliphas Levi (Scotcheroos): "I'll admit, I don't really get this modern magecraft stuff no matter how much they explain it. Still, the fact that they're here is an accomplishment in and of itself. So, if we ever meet in a fight, I'll destroy them right from the start."
Owing to both the time in which he lived and his own martial inclinations, Ferdiad's ability to appreciate the nature of Eliphas' accomplishments are limited. However, he can still acknowledge them as accomplishments and afford Eliphas the proper respect.

Bond Craft Essence

Reclaiming a Sublime Moment
In truth, it was the greatest moment of my life. My peak, if you would.
He was the only one who could challenge me. I was the only one who could truly challenge him.
He was, without any room for doubt, the most important person in the world for me.
That’s why it was horrible to fight him. Regardless of my injured pride, regardless of how jealous I was of him, he was still my most precious friend…maybe even more than a friend, on some level.
Still, we gave it our all, and the fight was without a doubt, the greatest of my life.
Call me selfish, but I was content to die there and leave him with the emotional baggage. I got a death any warrior ought to have been proud of, delivered by the one warrior who had any right to give it to me.
“You…damned…cheater.”
And then I said that. Me, the guy who never fights without his invulnerable armor, called him a cheater for using his ace-in-the-whole.
In that moment, I trampled over everything: my own pride, our friendship, and the irreplaceable moment we had shared.
That is why I cannot face Cu Chulainn. At least not yet.
I will not face him again until I reclaim the moment I spoiled.
Until I am strong enough to properly call ourselves equals, dispel the doubts within myself as well as others, he won’t see a lick of me.
Yeah, he won’t see a lick of me until we can reclaim that moment.

Bond CE Art Source

https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/104785122
ユヅル

Bibliography

- The Tain, translated by Thomas Kinsella
- Tain Bo Cuailnge, translated by Ciaran Carson
- Cuchulainn of Muirthemne, Lady Augusta Gregory
- Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology, James MacKillop
- Myths and Legends of the Celts, James Mackillop
- Ancient Irish Tales, Edited by Tom Peete Cross and Clark Harris Slover

Creator's Notes

- Finally returning to my roots of making an Ulster Cycle Servant
- And, of course, who better to make the grand return than with Ferdiad!
- I considered going Conchobar for a brief moment when I saw the Inferno thing and then remembered that Conchobar is canonically baptized by an exploding brain and goes to heaven
- Regardless, the mechanics of the afterlife are...peculiar in Medieval Irish Mythology. And by that, I mean most of the time they just use the Christian Afterlife system as a result of all the tales being written down by monks. However, there are a few moments that can be interpreted as alluding to a more "traditional" pagan afterlife like Fraech's body being carried off by denizens of the Sidhe after his death or references to Donn in various stories.
- Hence the opening paragraph playing into this "confusion" for a bit of levity.
- Special Thanks to Castellan for letting me run ideas by him and giving this sheet a once over. Riveting discussions all around!
- Did also ape Morg's formatting a bit for this one instead of the one I normally go with. Wanted to experiment a bit, and I thought the "skills and NP forthright with collapsible lore" was a fun idea, so I tried it out.
- Hope y'all enjoy, and have a good day/evenin'!

[Serra]

Oh that's a really cool interpretation of Ferdiad! The presentation of the NP is particularly great, the shame for his last words is a very interesting part to his character, and the Penthesilea line was pretty funny lol
Nitpick for the initial section: heresy would be out of the question regardless bc he'd never been introduced to Christianity himself in the first place; if they were just going off of the religion thing and only that, they'd have to put him in limbo, lol

[pinetree]

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle the impact, Kintoki instead jumps back to lessen the damage and lets the enemy hit him straight on the chest. The force is such that it still sends him rolling through the ground, but ready for it, he quickly takes advantage of the momentum to spin into a sweeping kick as he steadies himself, just in case his opponent was already in melee range again.

This is a win. He has forced her to hit him instead of engaging a grapple, and that means less danger of the fight ending right then and there. Though he’s got a preference for sumo, it’s an impossible proposition against this enemy. If she ever gets proper a hold of him, the fight will be over. Death for him… him and anyone else in a radius of dozens of kilometers, probably. She didn’t seem like someone to hold back.

Madness Enhancement D The Class Skill of Berserkers. Sanity is lost in exchange for power. In her case, she is not taken over by any kind of rage for extended periods of time, so the power gained is relatively small. Rather, her usual mentality is easily swayed by the promise of battle. Though it's not intrinsic to her, her ultimate role in her legend and life was to battle to the death, and as such, it's hard to fight such an instinct. For any opponents, this is a great boon, as an entertaining fight might dissuade her from using her strongest trump cards right away.

Though this was also something he needed to maintain. As long as her Madness Enhancement was active — in other words, as long as she was entertained — they would be safe. He had discarded his weapon near the beginning of the fight, because upon hearing the clicking of her tongue in annoyance at seeing his axe, he realized that reaction was more dangerous than any hit she could dish out.

His preemptive sweeping kick met empty air — as he expected — and he steadied himself. No matter which way he looked, she was gone. This wasn’t the first time this happened in the fight. Though he knew monsters capable of going invisible, and was even more familiar with her brand of bloodthirsty snake-woman, she didn’t seem like those he knew, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t even from Japan anyway.
And if this isn’t invisibility, then… There! He swung his upper body to the left and her open hand met nothing as she rose from below to grab his throat.
She smiled, another win for him. Though of course, he wasn’t safe yet. Her arm bent towards his shoulder and grabbed it, using the man as leverage to pivot herself around him and towards his back— BAM, his red elbow hit her side, but even as she was about to be flung by the sheer force of his strike, her leg tried to wrap itself around his. She’d stop herself, break his knee and that’d be it for Golden.
She was already in motion; everything happening in an instant. He just needed to prevent this and he’d get a chance to catch his breath.
Arms! Can’t reach down fast enough. Legs! A kick wouldn’t be fast enough! In that case—
Up! Kintoki jumped, sparks flying around him and from his feet. Legs singed by the sparks, coat tearing as she rolled across the ground, her massive braid flowing behind her—an azure streak that stopped at the rockside. The impact of her body against it cracked the stone and debris fell towards her. A sound like the cutting of air by a whip alerted Kintoki as her whole body slid—slithered—under the ground.
Golden, he finally saw it. It wasn’t invisibility at all, it was…

Age-long Benthic Biding A The ability to swim through the sea that surrounds the world on all its sides, in other words, to slip around and under the world's texture and resurface wherever she pleases. Though one can speculate on what exactly is the nature of the "sea" she swims through, none know exactly, as the Servant herself doesn't seem interested.

His face whips around as he slowly spins and surveys the area, trying to find from where her next surprise attack is going to come from, but the strike doesn’t arrive. Instead, he finds her standing over the stones that almost crushed her. She was smiling, looking down on him with expectation.

“What now golden boy?”

He had spent most of the fight baiting her, trying to keep her head in the game. Well, seems like she’s ready to fish too. The initiative was his and he knew he couldn’t back out, the poison that coursed through his veins was an uncomfortable reminder.

Nine-step Retreat Prevention C Something that could've been a Noble Phantasm in a different Class, so intrinsic it is to her legend. As a skill, it is slightly warped to match her nature as a being meant to fight to the death. If injected with her venom, the opponent cannot retreat from battle. Even taking just nine steps away from her, with the intention of putting the conflict aside, will result in death.

Though he wishes he could regroup with his Master and leave this fight to another day, the venom compels him to finish this here. So be it then. A battle of attrition would not be in his favor, so it was time to end it.

His arms swelled and a bright red color climbed from his fingers, to his shoulder, to his whole body. Divine power burned away most of the venom inside him as he brought his fists together in the air—then slammed the ground with all his force.
An ear-splitting roar accompanied his earth-shattering strike. Lightning-filled fissures ran through the ground towards his enemy but, instead of dodging the incoming attack, she decided to dive into the ground and under it, like she had done many times before.
It was the wrong choice.
Kintoki was already there when she jumped from the rock, running over and ahead of the lightning, he had reached her in a single instant, already weapon in hand. Though he had thrown it aside before to appease her preferences, he had since realized he didn’t have the luxury to indulge her whims if he wanted to win. One, two, three, four… fifteen of his cartridges had already been loaded onto the axe: his most devastating strike, backed by Madness Enhancement-fueled Monstrous Strength.
“GOOOLDEN EATEEEEEEEEEER!!!!”
His father's godly thunder filled the blade with energy as it met her neck. With enough force to split the heavens, this final move should be enough to not only end the fight, but to scar this entire area permanently as well.
And yet, her arm wraps around his own.
His strongest strike was not enough, digging deep into her chest, almost bisecting her torso, but it was still not enough to cut into her incredibly dense spiritual core.

Divinity D The measure of how close to a Divine Spirit a Servant is. Though logically it should be much higher, her nature as a monster affects it severily. Even still, her spiritual core carries a similar constitution to high-divinity beings. Density beyond measure, it's incredibly difficult to harm her core.

And terrifyingly, her arm wraps itself around his own. Like a snake onto itself, it slides around both of his arms and tightens. Not being long enough to immobilize him by itself, even the entire right half of her torso, almost completely torn away from her body by his own attack, contorts to wrap him alongside her arm.

And terrifyingly — most terrifyingly — she still smiles.
It's as if this bizarre display of body-horror requires no effort at all.

Human-shaped Serpentine Vessel A+ Her nature as a sea-serpent is present, regardless of what her form is. Though her altered form shoud limit her in some ways, her association with the biggest snake symbologies in existence force her to never lose those properties. In practice, it means every part of her body, regardless of its form, can act in a snake-like manner. Beware of her limbs, her braids, her tongue, even her entire body—regardless of its appearance, all of it is capable to encircling, constricting and slithering.

Putting aside his axe to appease her at the beginning of the fight was his first mistake, meeting her on her own terms immediately put him at a disadvantage. Using the axe at full-power was his second mistake. Now that she had seen his best, and learned that it was not enough, she was emboldened to end this fight rather than simply continue the back and forth. By using his greatest move, he invited her to user her own.

A great shadow covers not only her enemy, but the entire area. A shadow so massive it can only belong to a creature big enough to cover the sky and circle the Earth.
But as Kintoki looks up, nothing so massive covers him.
All he sees is her braid, swung over them with a movement of her head. Just hair—but threatening to split the earth asunder.

In her original form, she was already a scary creature, large enough to encircle the entirety of Miðgarð—the world. A body possessing such mass that even it’s threshing under the waves signaled the end of the world. As a Servant, her form has been changed to fit into a human vessel, this should lower her Lifescale and render her unable to utilize the full power of her absurd size. Even this Noble Phantasm, which releases her true form and increase her mass many times over, should not allow her to reach the worldwide length she once possessed. This should be the case, but Human-shaped Serpentine Vessel changes everything. This Noble Phantasm’s function of turning her into the Jörmungandr—the vast snake—is rendered useless as she is already recognized as a snake through the skill, and as such, all that’s left is to increase her mass. One’s Lifescale can change simply due to their form. Large and heavy things may be powerful, but that cannot even compare them to things that are small and heavy. Increasing her mass to values worthy of a world-encircling serpent, but maintaining the human-sized vessel, provides her with a density way beyond what could be achieved as a giant monster—is other words, her Lifescale increases exponentially. Crushing everything in her path, turning her already powerful blows into world-shattering attacks. False-Cat Waterfall: Hero-Defying Scale. An A-rank, Anti-Unit (Self) Noble Phantasm. Especially tailored to fight against heroes, the overwhelming presence of a monster they could never defeat.

Crushed by her final attack, the enemy Servant still stands. Almost unrecognizable as the Golden Berserker, Kintoki’s drive keeps him alive. His Master wants to change the world, and he wants to help them do so.

Miðgarðsormr recognizes his drive, measures his wounds, and finds herself terribly bored. She raises her hand and struggles to close it, as if she was crushing something in her palm.
The horizon closes in, constricting and squashing Kintoki completely. Leaving no trace behind.

The Sea-Thread Knot: The Vast Snake’s Worldwide Constriction. An EX-rank, Anti-World Noble Phantasm. As the snake that encircles reality, she is always just over the horizon, and anyone who can see the horizon is already encircled by her. As such, it’s trivial to crush them. A follow up to her Falsköttr Fors that uses her incredible Lifescale to crush another. This should, of course, mean that she is crushing the world alongside them, but this is not how this power manifests itself, and despite being an age-ending disaster, she doesn’t seem to have any interest in doing so either.

Immediately mind-numbingly bored by the end of the fight, she seeks to go into town to seek a bar, an amusement park, a video game store, or anything else this place offers. To sink into this age’s monotony and enjoy it as long as it lasts.

Aliases: Jörmungandr, World Serpent, Miðgarð Serpent, Sea-Thread. Class: Berserker. Height: 158cm Likes: Today. Dislikes: Tomorrow. Attribute: Earth. Alignment: Neutral Evil. Origin: Völuspá, Gylfaginning, Hymiskviða. Sources: りせっとぼたん. Ideal Master: Thetiana Dontor.

STR A END A+ AGI B MGI C+ LCK C NP A

Miðgarðsormr is Loki’s middle child. The sea serpent who grew so great that it encircled the entirety of Midgard and grasped its own tail. The day it finally lets go of it was prophesized to be the end of the Norse Age of Gods, Ragnarök, in which the serpent fought Thor until their mutual death. One could imagine such a creature to have a mechanical personality, set on destroying the world and accomplishing its role, but they could not be farther from the truth. One must understand that releasing its tail, trashing under the sea, and then finally facing the gods in mortal combat is a minuscule portion of this thing’s life, and more than that, it’s what led to its death.
No, that is not who she is. Before then, she simply rested at the bottom of the sea, a snake eating its own tail, set to inhabit that lightless, unchanging place forever. For Miðgarðsormr, the ideal age is one that never changes, and the ideal day is one that goes on forever. Others might interpret the ouroboros as a symbol of cycles, of rebirth or reinvention, but those are not the meanings she embodies. A serpent eating its own tail is also refusing all outside interference, unchanging, it only consumes itself and only grows from what it knows most intimately.
The fact is that she hates change. With her own era forever gone, Miðgarðsormr instead acclimates herself to whatever age she is summoned into, acting to spend as much time there as possible and to maintain the status quo for just as long. Laziness in the truest sense of the word, though her Madness Enhancement might drag her out of that mindset for a moment, she is still that serpent wasting days away at the unchanging bottom of the sea, angry and fearful of those who would seek to take it away from her.
Like those wrathful, sullen, slothful souls condemned to the Styx river of Hell’s Fifth Circle, either fighting forever on its surface or sinking beneath its waters. She embodies both punishments and embraces such an existence in a Hel of her own making that to her eyes is much more alike to paradise.
A mindset completely opposed to that of humanity, one might think she would hate them, but that is not the case. Despite their intention to change and better themselves, humans the best there is at running in circles and maintaining the status quo while speaking of change.
And even to those truly set on changing—progressing—beware to not do so in her sights, for the threshing of the Midgard serpent spells the end of the world, and the distant horizon they seek might be closer than they imagine.

[OddEyedDuelist]

I should probably save this for one of the bulk reviews I've started doing, but this is a crazy strong sheet. The formatting is really nice - it guides the eye well and really makes the information hit. The decision to build the sheet entirely around the narrative was also a really cool choice, and it was done well.

The characterization itself is also super unique. It's really easy to fall into the trap of making all of Loki's kids fall into very similar "vengeful" characterizations, and instead choosing to base Midgardsomr around the time it spent in the ocean not only helped it align with the prompt but was also very refreshing.

Super fun entry!

[sutaa]

Are there not several degrees of death?
Can death follow life, or is it not life that follows death?
How do we see death? As an enemy or as a friend?
Death, is it not you who are the ultimate advisor?
Death, is it not you who are the real master?
It is only death that can grant us a reprieve.
We must die in ourselves.
We must die alive if we are to go through the doors of sound to find the pwen, the point of power, the formula, the essence of True Ginen.
The point that is beyond good and evil.
Brave Gede, Gedelavi, without you, without your order, who can close the doors of the magic rite?
Who will go to the crossroads for us if it is not you,
Brave Gede, Gede Simitye, Gedelavi?

r i d e r
BARON SAMEDI
the dead drunken master of revels

"Well now! Takes a lotta nerve to get the party started without inviting lil old me - but hey, I like it! Not to brag, but slipping in unwanted's something of a specialty of mine, so thanks for the chance to strut my stuff. You folk don't mind if I just swooce right in here, now do ya? I heard there are gonna be some nasty boys and girls out on parade tonight, so I gotta grab myself a seat before the big bottles get popped. Friends, foes, bitches and bros and non-binary hoes, make merry! So long as the party's on, until the night is dead you're all the same. Now's the time for looking lively!"
​ALTERNATE CLASS
Gatekeeper
ALIGNMENT
Chaotic Neutral
LIKES
Graveyards, alcohol, spices, tobacco, punching up, each and every manner of debauchery
DISLIKES
Restrictions, dogs, abstinence, monogamy, quiet
IMAGE SONG
Drums of Liberation
IMAGE VA
Nozuyama Yukhiro
NATURAL ENEMY
Napoleon Bonaparte

STR C | MAG A
END B | AGI D
LUK C | NP A

« Class Skills »Class Skills
Pseudo-Divine Core of the Chief Death Intercessionary A
Possession of a spiritual core that ever approaches yet never attains the level of divine, for even the mad master of death remains an existence of the World rather than residing above it, hence he receives respect over reverence, and should never be mistaken for a god. Vodou philosophy is ultimately monotheistic in character, in its exaltation of the remote Bondye as creator and maintainer of order, the lwa beneath them but his servants, admired and adored and invoked by believers but never given worship.

There is a lwa for everything that is, from higher concepts to rivers and stones to family lines to individual humans, in this sense akin to the eight million gods of Japan; they are personifications of the natural world inextricably tied to it, in this sense akin to Elementals or the Fairykind that reside on the Reverse Side of the World; they are errand spirits who work to maintain the order established by Bondye, and might intercede on behalf of mortals who demonstrate sufficient devotions, in this sense akin to angels and Catholic saints. What the Baron Saturday is not, is a God, merely the closest thing from the Vodou ensemble that might be placed in a Saint Graph.

The potent spiritual core possessed by the keeper of graves. The Baron is a figure revered across the African diaspora, adapting in form and function to the requirements of his summoner. Possession of a firm core is what lends stability to such a figure, where much of what he is may be maintained only through word of mouth. At times he heals, at others condemns. At times filth rolls off his tongue, at others his lips sit stitched shut. At times he is a beggar, at others dressed to the nines. At times he is one with Christ, or Gede, or the saints. He maintains, he subverts. Above all else, he is the Baron. And it is he who will dig your grave.
"I wasn't kidding about the party by the way, so best start popping those bottles now, kid. C'mon, look alive! It's better than looking dead! The night's still so young - just like yours truly here - but it ain't gonna last forever, so making it last falls to you and I! But uh, while I pick out some tunes for us to make merry to, lemme just get this part out of the way. We lwa are part of the community, see. 's another thing that divides us from some all high and mighty god types. No matter what you'd heard about what the Baron gets up to - and my oh my do I get up to stuff, not to toot my own horn kid - I never do a damn thing just for me. I won't be doing anything just for you either, summoner kid. S'all about the public good, get it?"

Riding (Medium) A
The ability to 「ride」mounts and vehicles - in Baron Samedi's case, his mount of choice being individuals. While the Vodou lwa is typically separate from the tangible world of Man, there exists a mechanism by which they might partake of the same experience as their devotees. For willing mediums, a number of ceremonies exist for this purpose; be it through playing the particular lwa's favourite songs or dancing with abandon round pretty-patterned posts to the tune of drum beats or offering up the right assortment of food and drink, any vodouissant practitioner might invite a lwa into their body. Even especially cheeky bystanders may be made subject to the rare involuntary possession should they not show the proper respect.

The medium then is known as a chwal, a horse, and indeed this act of trance possession is oft referred to as 「riding the horse」as the lwa uses the chwal's body as if it were their own for dispensing advice, attending the festivities, and otherwise making merry. He who becomes the Baron's horse must brace himself indeed for one hell of a hangover come morning.

Skill is not a component on the part of the possessed individual. That is to say, who the lwa choose as their chwal is based entirely on that lwa's whim; as intangible beings they will accept any body, regardless of age or gender, displaying no preference to how skilled or knowledgeable in the ways of Vodou a vessel may be in choosing one over the other. To be ridden is not a show of favour, nor is there any status to be found in being chosen. For the duration of the possession, the chwal ceases to be an individual in their own right, and the lwa alone is considered the occupant of the body until their departure. Baron Samedi is particularly infamous for his love of engaging in mischief with the bodies he occupies - but as to abandon his current flesh would be akin to dismissing himself as a Servant, it could be said this Skill merely represents his talent in 「riding」a Saint Graph. In short, he is possessing his Servant container.
"Gotta say, feels good having a body like this - kinda what I'm used to, but with a little extra twist! Death's got a real bad habit of showing up uninvited I know, so I prefer making myself known when people know I'm coming. Unless someone really deserves me dropping in, or it'd be real funny, see. Making myself comfortable in this here shape, well. Let's call it a short vacay for lil ol' me! Once the festivities are done, I'll be dipping out again till I get another invite. Now buckle up, kid! I've got a bet running with the missus you can handle four more shots at least before you drop!"

« Personal Skills » Personal Skills
At the Graveyard A
The power of those beings who reside at the boundary between worlds, steeped in death such that the stench of it follows them near anywhere. Understanding the end on a fundamental level wards off attempts at imposing it early upon the bearer. A natural quality of the Gede nation of lwa, descendants from the West African psychopomp of the same name, spirits of earth and what lingers buried beneath, those who died orphaned or unanchored or outright forgotten, the nameless dead who call Baron Samedi their chief. When a spirit lingers between one world and the next unable to pass on, salvation from an eternity spent wandering comes from the Baron and wife, who fish the lost child from the waters, offer stability and form in joining the ranks of the Gede. To be a spirit of death requires an understanding of what it means to have lived, hence the ever-expanding ranks of the Gede must come from Man.

Death is a natural consequence of life, hence the lwa dedicate one of their nations to the dead. Disturbing the soil, interring the flesh, escorting the soul ever onwards - such is the role of Baron Samedi, ever with a smile no matter how grave the duty may be. Legions of lost souls are his brethren, stirring at their own will at his unspoken command; it is the Gede who deal in communion with those passed, who protect against an early end, who might be bartered with in the matter of zombis of the non-shambling corpse kind. Where all the Gede nation may represent death in its finality, in its majesty, only the Baron signifies judgement in death, outright control over death. In the wider philosophy of Vodou, a man's not truly dead till he's in his grave. And it is the Baron who digs up the dirt.

Imposing death is an impossibility against Rider, when the World already regards him dear and departed. In tradition, one may wed a lwa in exchange for a number of boons - but most families will steer clear of binding themselves to the Gede in this way, the Baron most of all, for to tie oneself so tightly to death is to risk crossing over to the other side before your time. Condemning a man to death in full may be an authority held by Bondye alone, but the Baron holds the right to expedite this process through the application of his Noble Phantasm; be it through his attacks, his gestures, his very presence, all interaction with Rider possesses, not an instant-death effect, but a stark, constant reminder of one's own mortality, and the steady creep towards an early end.
"Eh, this? It's parlour tricks, kid, just a little souvenir I'm bringing from my side to yours. The head honcho's up higher, see, my and my family, we're just greasing the wheels, keeping life running smooth and all that jazz. Emphasis on the life, right? Cause see, you gotta agree with me here, what better way to stir you guys to life, apart from the prospect of death? Now pound those drums harder, raise your voice higher, live a little stronger for me! You're - not a hundred, but plenty of years early for me to welcome you over to my side of the line! The countdown started before you learned to hear it, and that old clock's a-ticking, so sound it out loud and clear!"

Life of the Party A
Motion, invigoration, making people come alive. That disciples of the Gede decorate themselves in black and purple with patterns of skull and bone before dancing the night away is not a contradiction; again, the nation of Gede exists in recognition of the fact death is part of life. The nameless dead of the Gede know better than any what it means to walk Bondye's earth, to feel and breathe and to live. Thus are the Gede also the greatest merrymakers amongst the lwa, enlivening all they encounter. Thus are they the ones called on to alleviate illness, for fertility.

Fertility indeed is the game of the Gede, for to be familiar with life is to be familiar with its pleasures, and the appetites of the Gede endure even death. Infamous is their innuendo, the bawdy gags and wandering hands, the chwal's hips seeming to move on their own at the lwa's bidding, and the Baron himself is no better; helping himself to people's belongings and other men's wives, miming and enacting every vulgar act one might imagine, for to play caretaker to those leaving this world is to serve the same role for those entering in, to keep the dead dead and the living living to the not-so-solemn duty of Baron Samedi and the nation of Gede.

When you fall, it will be the Baron who warmly greets you at the grave he dug just for you, with a smile, two cigars, two glasses, and a bottle of piman - raw rum infused with twenty-one peppers, far too spicy for the living to sup on, not that it'll bar the pair of you from downing a glass each before he escorts you off on your way. A number of healing and protective effects come naturally to him, the gravekeeper on high. More than that Rider and those around him are alive, even in death, thus any attempt to sap or crush their spirits is automatically rebuffed - by contrast however, any attempt to inflict charm or confusion or a state of drunkenness or the like not only automatically succeeds, but it also reflected back at the attacker and anyone else in the vicinity. Those willing to start a party in Rider's presence must be willing to join in the festivities.
"Now kid, just for a sec, put down the drink and focus for a second. Just take a breath... hold it, savour it, and listen real close. Even at your age, I bet that heart o' yours is pounding hard right now, yeah? Listen to it for me! Sure, sure, it's basically a countdown, but that ratta-tat-tat - that's you, in sound. It's the rhythm that insists upon itself, the tune that never gives in. It's the song that begs to keep on playing! C'mon, tap it out for me. Really feel the beat. Until the party dies down and you've got to face the music, how 'bout you dance to it a little while? That's all we're here for, in the end."

Territory Infringement A
The simple power to go where one isn't welcome. Traditionally, any vodouissant seeking to invoke the lwa must first pay tribute to Papa Legba, the crossroad-caretaker of the Rada nation, the keeper of keys who knows where all things should and shouldn't be. Without the old man's approval, the other lwa are not permitted to pass into the tangible world, thus they cannot be called upon. But those lwa of the Gede nation are different; no oblation to Legba's required to call on the Baron and his family, nor indeed does a vodouissant require anything beyond the most basic education to entreat them.

The Gede nation alone are the lwa that anyone can serve regardless of their initiation status, background knowledge, or prior preparation - the Gede are death, an inexorable aspect of life, and thus are accessible to all. By nature they flout boundaries, push the limits of what is respectable and permitted. There are several ceremonies in Vodou to which the Gede are not typically invited.

And yet their sheer ubiquity ensures that there is no real way to bar them from the proceedings, and indeed Baron Samedi and his compatriots are known to make themselves known uninvited should the mood so take them, thus it's not uncommon to hold a separate ceremony for the Gede beforehand, wearing them out to the point they won't disturb the proceedings. As long as it is a place where the concept of Death exists, Rider may access it. In fact the more his presence would offend, the more forbidden his access must be, the easier it is for him to simply slip right on in.
"It would be nice if the grim reaper needed an invitation, but you know well as I that's not how this works. It's how they keep you on your toes, see; certainty's one hell of a buzzkill from what I hear, like a song you've let play a few times too many. Not knowing when the beat'll drop, when it's finally time to pack up all the chairs - that's the spice in life's delectable liquor, and what kinda weirdo wants to taste anything without the spices? Your ribcage can't bind what you are beneath, kid."

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COMING SOON

« Noble Phantasm »bahwon samdee
at the end of the party, a seat saved for you

The simplest of Noble Phantasms, an extension of Baron Samedi's personality authority over the grave.
Rider lacks the right to kill outright. Still he remains the highest among gravekeepers.
Thus, provided he is aware of a chump on his last legs, the Baron's approval is required before they are permitted to pass.
Not true immortality. The concept of death remains in the target. Injuries remain as grievous as ever.
The drunken keeper of the dead simply withdraws the 「luxury」of dying
Thus an equally powerful imposition of 「living」is required to overturn his decision.
The greatest, gravest power of Baron Samedi however, is his power to command his fellow Gede to 「dig a man's grave.」
Not a power to kill. But to mark a target as something that 「should」be dead.
As those familiar with the Holy Grail War and similar systems will attest, when the World is confronted with the twin truths of 「this person is dead」 and 「this person is alive,」 its corrective influence will attempt to resolve the contradiction in favour of the former, for death's finality should not be averted if the World's logic is to function.
In short, the World acts to end the target's life through any means available, typically through the manipulation of fate.
This is the grave he dug just for you.
The Baron won't permit you leave it empty.

"Aaaand that's a wrap! Man, I swear sunrise comes earlier every year.
Now, I could just stick around and all, but...
Well. You played along pretty well, kid.
I mean, not counting how you look ready to drop. It's still early, so stay on those feet!
But anyhow, since you've got me in a good mood...
Eh, screw it.
You can take lil peek behind the curtain.
Give the good doc my regards, eh?"



"Hm? Oh!
Oho! So the Baron's taken his leave, is that it?
I imagine he'll be back by nightfall, but in the meantime, hm.
Very well. If he intends for me to keep you entertained, I will indulge him.
Allow me to share a drink with you, child. So you may hear my story.
But know, now and forever, I shall never once call you Master.
The man you called Rider never did, and I am no different.
The will of my people demands no less of me."


b i n d e r
FRANCOIS DUVALIER
the kindly father cloaked in blood



ALIGNMENT
Lawful Evil
ALTERNATE CLASS
Caster
IMAGE VA
Takayuki Sugo
IMAGE SONG
Drums of Oppression
NATURAL ENEMY
Jeanne D'Arc


STR E | END E
AGI D | MAG C
LUK B | NP D

« Class Skill »Class Skill
Binding and Fettering C

"God and the people are the source of all power. I have twice been given the power. I have taken it, and damn it, I will keep it forever."

Class Skill of Binder Servants, reflecting their nature as spirits whose role is to「tie together.」Beneath the mask of the Baron, here stands Francois Duvalier, president of Haiti from 1957 to 1971, one of the bloodier despots of the 20th century. Beginning as a kindly physician from humble origins, his warm demeanour and efforts to improve quality of life for the lower class of Haitian society earned him the affectionate nickname 「Papa Doc,」a title that carried him into the chaos of the post-Magloire political climate, where he would be voted into the presidency on a platform of restorative black nationalism and justice sociale. A rise to power preceding the suppression, imprisonment, and torture of his political opponents.

Through highly-effective propaganda campaigns, frequently replacing officials such that none could build influence to rival his own, and the establishment of an elite force loyal to the president alone over the state, Duvalier achieved for himself a stranglehold over the state. A hold he would go on to maintain at all costs, through fear and faith, every act of brutality a monument to his own brilliance as the self-appointed saviour of the Haitian people. To guide the people requires a strong man, a role Duvalier gladly accepted he alone could ever fill. Thus are his bloodstained chains imbrued with the concept of 「restriction」above all else, highly effective against those of a chaotic nature. No obstacle to the splendour he provides his people shall he permit.

But tyranny alone does not a Binder make. In all the world, Haiti alone is the only state for have emerged from a successful slave rebellion. It is a land built upon the liberation of the masses - of the masses liberating themselves, the people casting off their own bonds, forging their own destiny in a world that would deprive them of it. Even now is the breaking of bindings core to the national spirit. Hence to be labelled a Binder of the Haitian people is a potent symbol, adulation intertwining contempt.

"Picture a river. As wild and wide as you please. The waters of that river flowing on are free, yes? A model of freedom. But without the banks of the river and the firmness of the earth to shape it, without the force of the current and gravity to guide it, the waters would be still, and the river would be nothing. A nation is the same. A man needs to know who he is. What he ought to believe. Where he can call home. Without those, he does not know what he needs to do, and is hardly a man at all. Only a firm hand can give the people foundations to build upon, to be upon. Freedom exists not in isolation, but must be sheltered by a strong man. In the absence of such a strong man, so stood up the father."

« Personal Skills »Personal Skills
Vodouissant EX
Denotes a practitioner in the arts of Vodou, a hougan or bokor, Binder's expertise being of the highest level. Duvalier presented himself as the great defender of traditional Haitian Vodou, who rallied for its preservation prior to entering politics; already in the decade prior pressure from the Catholic church had pushed what it deemed barbaric beliefs out of the theatre of polite society, as the slaveowners of old had used the gospel to justify slavery as a means to save the souls of the bound, in that clash of faith a microcosm of the conflict between black agricultural class and mixed-race Europhile elite that had played out in Haiti since its inception. Vodou to Duvalier rested at the heart of the Haiti he wished to restore to prominence, the indigeniste lower class who had suffered too long under the boot of the foreign man and his Haiti-born puppets.

Hence he immediately set about centring Vodou in the state, appointing vodouissants to higher positions, expelling foreign clergy and closing their institutions, quickly earning an excommunication for his efforts, only drawing the feud with the Vatican to a close when they conceded to Duvalier the right to ensure only natives loyal to Haiti might serve as bishops. The Catholic faith did and does intermingle with the teachings of Vodou quite smoothly, still he would not allow them to supplant it. Even before his tenure Duvalier made appearances at Vodou ceremonies, took part in them, cemented himself as the champion of the old ways in the minds of the common people. More than that, he insisted his elite guard style themselves in the fashion of the Gede - and styled himself in that of Baron Samedi.

In clothing and demeanour, right down to the particular nasal tone for which he was famous, Duvalier presented himself as the Baron in the flesh. The chosen son of the Gede gravekeeper, the Papa Doc here to protect his precious children. His connection to the lwa was such that his followers proclaimed him greatest among all vodouissants, a claim not without merit. Typically, serving as a vessel to the lwa is not a matter of skill, and yet. Baron Samedi was a symbol of anti-authority, who made a mockery of the elite - and yet here he was authority.

Vodou is the creed of the once-enslaved, now made a tool of oppression. Duvalier did not beseech the lwa, he commanded him. Baron Samedi did not ride the chwal, he was ridden as proof of the president's power. Even now Binder might surrender his body to the lwa for a time, knowing his will must be done.

"A common mistake for beginners, is to think the Baron is chaos. This is of course not the case. He turns up his nose at the oppressor, for he understands that is his purpose. The Baron serves an almighty power as all the lwa do, as all men must. We are alike in that way, you see. Bound to play our parts. The good Baron has the power to give life, and take it away - much as I do, you understand? We are each of a piece, monster to some and messiah to others. When men from abroad come to gawp at my land, my culture as if we were animals in a zoo, they do not ponder who Baron Samedi truly is, what he truly means, they only take pictures of the silly man in black and amuse themselves that way. As a man of medicine, I understood. To cut loose the infection, my blade must be sharp. As the Baron, I understood. To bring life to my home, I must be steeped in death."

Noirisme A

"I am the Haitian flag, One and Indivisible. He who is my enemy is the enemy of the Fatherland."

The Lifeblood of the Nation skill reserved for patriots, enhanced as it were by Binder's own philosophy. Noirisme was an intellectual movement of black nationalism developed among Haitians in the years after American occupation, stressing the importance of a return to the local, black, African roots of the Haitian nation over continued socio-economic oppression by a Euro-empowered lighter-skinned elite. Thus it discarded the class-based structure of prior European societal models in lieu of a purely racial perspective, the plight of the modern payant at its core.

What the state needed was a greater emphasis on its local culture, not the impositions of foreign powers who would love to see the people once more in chains - such was the philosophy Duvalier embraced in his youth, such was the doctrine he preached to the people. For those who carried in their hearts still the memories of oppression, Duvalier promised to fly once more the flag of liberation, to fight for their cause when no-one else could, to purge the once-beautiful African state of Haiti from what filth had infected the body politic.

The noirist model Duvalier adopted was a form of peasant-based populism, the narrative of the downtrodden dark-skinned farmer of the northern countryside and how the elite endeavoured to disenfranchise them, spurred on by their European allies and the brutality of the American penal system. This above all made Papa Doc - the man who'd supported the lower class as a physician, as a writer, as a vodouissant - the champion of the black majority, who happily voted him into power. And kept him there, for a time. Even now the strength of Binder's convictions runs through him, the man who declared himself the saviour of Haiti, the Haitian flag itself, that the black of the flag was his black skin, that the red of the flag was his red blood, empowering him whenever he finds himself faced with the enemies of the Haitian people.

"I have seen the kindness of so-called civilised men as they bring their boots down on my people. They are filth. I am aware the Baron informed you, but let me declare it again: the lwa do not serve themselves, nor does the man who beseeches them serve his own ends alone. The lwa, the vodouissant, serve the community. Do you understand? Everything I did, it was for the glory of Haiti. I saw the dying, and offered them life. I saw the voiceless, and knew I must give them a voice. I saw the weak and battered, and knew I must be their blade. Such is what I told the people; such is what the people appoint me! No matter the blood you might imagine my hands are stained with, know this child. They are clean."

All Black Dogs Must Be Shot C

"What one man calls democracy in one country, in another might be called dictatorship."

Duvalier's own will to dominate, a lust so strong it binds even in the absence of chains. A state at peace derives from a peaceful populace, one where the mere idea of anything so abhorrent as resisting Duvalier's steady hand has been worked out of the masses thus to their own benefit, the people must be made to understand the order of things. The maximum infliction of terror with the minimum investment of resources. Should the press take to publishing idle gossip not in line with the president's own words, then direct the ire of the people against them, offices raided and miscreants behind bars. Corpses strung up in the street are a language unto themselves in administration, punctuated as it were with shattered windows and sudden disappearances.

When Duvalier's ill treatment of his subordinates drove one to turn against him in an attempted coup, Duvalier convinced himself and the people that the perpetrator had transformed himself into a black hound, the president's influence ensuring a nation-wide cull. Those who failed to fall in line were spirited away to Fort Dimanche, a military base of Haiti's colonial past, to be tortured indefinitely. Prisoners wallowing in their own filth half-starved in tiny cells, where rumour had it the president himself would sit in on the punishments his men meted out, watching his enemies burned alive or submerged in acid or merely butchered. Some had their heads preserved, so the master of vodouissants Duvalier could commune with them in death.

In the later years, Binder's megalomania reached such a peak that the very peasantry he spoke for were conscripted for the construction of Duvalierville, a village dedicated to the president's greatness, the Lord's Prayer rewritten to be naught but praise for Haiti's enlightened saviour. All around Binder is the sensation of chains, of restriction, an overwhelming spiritual pressure against all who might oppose him that feels almost like the firm hand of a kind father clasped over loose lips and tightening round throats, a warning for would-be upstarts not to choke on their ambitions.

"I applaud a man who has the strength to stand against me. A man, that is. Dogs flee at the sound of shots and the whiff of powder. Boys and girls turn tail at a little bloodshed - children are sweet, yes, but this isn't the place for your kind. Politics is a weapon, like any other. Do not take a stand if you cannot bear to hold it in your hands. Do not stand on the stage if you are unwilling to act. No, beasts need discipline; disobedient dogs answer to force like any other animal. And at times, children need a forceful hand to steer them right. Who else to keep them on the path, then, if not a father?"

« Noble Phantasm »tonton macoute
security comes from a state tightly-bound
When Binder took power, immediately it became clear to him that the traditional avenues of power could not be trusted to help fulfil his vision; the educated elite and military forces alike had already failed prior leaders, both monarchs and presidents, with their own ambitions, if not those of foreign powers. Curing the sickened state of Haiti could come at the hands of bureaucrats or brutes, puppets and pretenders, for they too were infected with the same lacking vision that had plagued their people for generations.

Hence the hero of the true Haitian people, new liberator in the spirit of Toussaint and Dessalines, would fashion for himself new implements. The personal guard - or personal death squad - of Francois Duvalier, a mass of loyalists all taken from the black population, willing to affix themselves to the president's goals at least for personal gain where they lacked his ideals. As a paramilitary group they roamed the streets at night, removing obstacles to Duvalier's rule where they could find them, enacting random violence where they could not. People set alight or stoned in the streets or vanishing never to be seen again, they terrorised the populace with impunity under presidential protection.

The name itself, Tonton Macoute, was given to them by the people, taken from the scope of Vodou lore. A boogeyman figure who stuffs naughty children in his sack to secret them away - the perfect servant for a fatherly figure like Duvalier, and where a smattering of individual members attained a notoriety of their own, the legend and the terror the Macoutes struck into the populace is Duvalier's legacy alone, his property, the weapon he brandishes once again as his Noble Phantasm.

So slight they cannot even be called shades or phantoms, insubstantial figures clinging to Binder and Vodou folktales to give themselves even a semblance of form, lacking in mass but more than able to make up for this in their bloodlust. Creeping unseen, Binder's soldiers do as they did in life. They wreak havoc. They kill, torture, abduct, and spread terror in his vicinity. Though they lack the intelligence for understanding complex instructions, their skill for sniffing out even the slightest aggression towards their master is first-rate, and even neutral parties may fall prey to their cruelty without Duvalier's explicit protection.

A single breeze could scatter their forms, much less a Servant.
Still shall they roam. Still must they kill.
A smattering of wraiths set to slaughter, nothing more.
Often the best tools are the simplest ones.

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« Notes »Circle seven, violence. With a little bait that the Baron was being squeezed in on the technicality of his psychopomp status.
Initial collapse art by ehdo.
Samedi main art and Unmasking (Samedi) art by uron.
Unmasking (Duvalier) art and Duvalier main art by walter.
Duvalier collapse art by momochi.