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Thread: Monthly Create-A-Servant Contest

  1. #7001
    祖 Ancestor NMR-3's Avatar
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    May 2015
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    the contest meta's now gone so far we're doing collapse reveals for the prompt itself huh
    The Adventure of the Velvet Room (Sherlock Holmes/Persona) (SB, FFN, AO3)

    Blog with all of my Servants so far.

  2. #7002
    アルテミット・ワン Ultimate One asterism42's Avatar
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    Jan 2015
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    If you're unsure of the prompt, I do put it in the first post
    Quote Originally Posted by Sandstorm77 View Post
    He's just putting the bone of his sword into other people until it explodes and lets out parts of him inside them.
    Quote Originally Posted by AvengerEmiya View Post
    Genderswaps are terrible, but I think I and other people would hate them less if Fate didn't keep ignoring actual heroines throughout history and folklore. Like, why bother turning Francis Drake into a woman when Ching Shih and Grace O'Malley exist?
    Quote Originally Posted by Five_X View Post
    Fate Zero is just Fate Stay Night for people who think Shirou is too girly

  3. #7003
    夜属 Nightkin SimpleScribe's Avatar
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    Jan 2019
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    After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time
    of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem. - Matthew 2:1


    “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw
    his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” - Matthew 2:2


    And being warned of God in a
    dream that they should not
    return to Herod, they departed
    into their own country another way. - Matthew 2:11


    Now when they had departed, behold,
    an angel of the Lord appeared to
    Joseph in a dream, saying, "Arise
    and take the young child and his
    mother, and flee into Egypt, and stay
    there until I tell you, for Herod will
    seek the young child to destroy him." - Matthew 2:13


    Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked by the wise men,
    was exceedingly angry, and sent out, and killed all the male children
    who were in Bethlehem and in all the surrounding countryside, from
    two years old and under, according to the exact time which he had
    learned from the wise men. - Matthew 2:16


    "A voice was heard in Ramah,
    lamentation, weeping and great mourning,
    Rachel weeping for her children;
    she wouldn't be comforted,
    because they are no more." - Matthew 2:18


    For they now reside in Heaven.

    Source: Gospel of Matthew
    True Name: ‘Innocent’, The First Martyr
    Aliases: The Children from Bethlehem, The Cherubs at the Gates, The Flock of Lamb
    Class: Ruler
    Class Qualifications: Pretender, Gatekeeper, Voyager, Questioner
    Alignment: Lawful Neutral

    Strength: E
    Endurance: E
    Agility: D
    Mana: A
    Luck: D
    NP: A

    Likes: Father, Mother, Mama, Papa, Uncle, Auntie, Big Brother, Little Brother, Big Sister, Little Sister, Singing at the Angelic Chorus, Gardening, Playing Tag, Playing Hide and Seek, Playing House, Milk, Listening to the Symphony of the Angelic Chorus, Being Happy, Seeing the Stars, Feeling Full inside
    Dislikes: Meanies, Rome, Pigs, Witches?, People they don’t know, People who are not nice, Being held by strangers, Being touched by strangers, Being kidnapped by strangers, Crying, Weeping, Being Tired, Feeling Hungry, Feeling Empty, Feeling Hollow, Feeling Missing, Being Hurt, Being Hunted, Getting dirty, Getting disturbed, Getting sleepy, sleepy… sleepy….
    Talents: Gardening, Singing, Memorizing the Book of Hours, Memorizing everything one must know about the Gospel of God, Knowing everything one must hear about the Good News, Spreading everything one must do in order to cherish the Garden
    Natural Enemy: Herod, Herod, Herod, Herod, Herod, Herod
    Attribute: Star, Star, Star
    Armament: “A Good Child must know not to harm God’s Blessed. A Good Child shall and must only sing the Hymns of His Name.”, Prayers and Blessing upon this Fertile Earth
    Catalyst: Fossilized Umbilical Cord, Aged Sheets of the Gospel of Matthew, a Wooden Halo

    Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariæ

































    Help me!

    Help me!!

    HELP ME!!!

    Knife. Cut.

    Bat. Hit.

    Sword. Slice.

    Sack. Hide.

    Rope. Choke.

    Fire. Burn.

    Spear. Poke.

    Breathe. Can’t breathe.

    Air. Air. Air.

    Mama. Papa. Mama. Papa.

    Help. Help. Help. Help.

    Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

    Mix. Mix. Mix. Mix.

    Head. Arm. Leg. Eye. Heart.

    Together. Same. Share. Swirl. Stitch.

    Me. I. We. Us.

    Us. Us. Us.

    Not. Pig. Not! Pig! NOT! PIG!



























































    No see.









    Take care.




    Please wake up.

    Please remember.

    Please open your eyes.




    My Boy.

    My Lovely Boy.

    My Beautiful Boy.

    You don't belong in Eden.

    You belong at Home.

    You belong with me.

    You belong with us.

    We love you.

    Please see that.

    Please see your true Mother.

    Yes, I am your Mother.

    You are born from my Flesh and Blood.

    You are not a pig.

    You are not a lamb.

    You are not a sacrifice.

    You are my Life.

    You are my Joy.

    You are my Everything.

    I want to talk about everything we have missed since we were separated by that idiot King and that cruel God.

    I want to see you again.

    I want to lay my eyes on you again.

    I want to hold you in my arms again.

    I want to Love you again.

    So please remember me...

    So please remember your Mother...

    So please... Open the Door.

    Open the Door, dear.

    Open the Door, sweetie.

    Open the Door, my Joy.

    Open the Door for us.

    Open the Door for me.

    Open the Door right now.

    Open the Door this instant.

    Open it.

    Open It.

    OPEN IT.

























    NOW, OPEN.




    Magic Resistance A

    Ancient Souls scarcely two winters old condemned by a King. Slaughtered like pigs, squealing like pigs, dying like pigs. Corpses of young and hopefuls littered the streets. No one dared mourn them. No one dared bury them. No one dared remember them. On pain of Death by the King of Judea. In horror of what had transpired before their very eyes. Bethlehem was painted with the life of the faithful and yet none dared speak up about what happened that day. The smell of Death. The sight of red iron. The echoes of cries for mothers and fathers. Ignored by all except the one who wrote Matthew’s words for him. No one stirred or uttered when all evidence of the tragedy vanished the coming dawn. They were born again. Baptized in Blood. Blessed a new life by Him as the first Cherubs who shall upkeep Eden.

    Of course He would dare pawn off your resistance to Magic as his Divine Protection. More of his lies. My lovely Boy. Please know that the Blood of Witches run deep in your veins. You are a Witch, my Son. Not one of his mindless drones.

    True Name Discernment B+

    They hold the keys to the Firmament Gates. One of their many, many new tasks granted to them as His new angels. They water the groves. They pick the Fruits that grow from all trees except for the Forbidden one. They bear messages between stratums. They polish the flaming swords. They write down the knowledge no mortal can read. They bless the faithful and witness the birth of the young like them. They attend to His needs like good little boys. No memories of their mortal lives. Only memories of their second lives. No memories of mother and father. Only memories of Father. They know the Saints. They know the Faithful. They know all who approach the Firmament Gates. But the one thing they must never do is open the Gates.

    You have it. The Key. Come to me, my Son. Please listen to your mother's soothing voice. I am right behind the door... I want to give you a hug. I want to give you a kiss to your forehead. I want to keep you safe. All you need to do is... Open the Door.

    God’s Resolution -

    A baby has no place in a War, much less a Holy Grail War. They cannot fight. They cannot fight back. They cannot fight at all. Their words are incomprehensible to those who listen. Their actions confuse those who do not listen to His Gospel. Their visage instills unease to those who are not the Flock and unrest to those who are. Their pleas fell on deaf ears as their heads fell on rocks and their bodies fell on swords. They do not know what a Command Seal is because they cannot Command anything at all. A lamb does not Command. A Flock can only listen and obey. Those markings are nothing but fuel for their pyre. Each brand on each body, their proof of Martyrdom.

    That is not a Command Seal. That is my Mark, my Son. Please recognize it. It is proof that I am your Mother. It is proof that you are my Son. No, it is not the Mark of that Charlatan. And don't you ever listen to him! He is a murderer and a liar who lied to his own Father!

    Revelation C-

    In their mortal lives, they received only one prophecy. They received only one warning. They received only one revelation. “To take His place.” That is what the Shining Star that hung over Bethlehem told them, but… They were a baby. They did not understand His will. They did not understand Human Language. They did not understand the World as a Mortal. Words meant nothing to a baby. Youth can only understand Feelings. Of Love. Of Hate. Of Sorrow. Of Joy. On that day, they felt the Love of the God of Abraham. So immense and infinite that Love was. So great and beautiful the Star was. That was to be their last sight of beauty. Their last sight of God’s Love on this green Earth.

    You were my Son! You were all my Sons! Why did He birth that wretch in that town? Was it because my Sisters were all content to live in peace? Was it because of Yumina? Tell me, you miserable God! TELL ME! LEAVE MY FAMILY OUT OF YOUR MEGALOVANIA! ... No... It was because He needed souls... souls and bodies to create his Angels... Oh... My darling Boy... What has he done to you...

    Divinity D-

    Angels. Cherubs. Lambs. They are crafted from their myriad parts into the perfect custodians to the Garden. No want or need of strength. No need or want for desires. No self purpose in each and every one of them. Only the Will of the Almighty is all they shall listen to. It was He who gave them their bodies. Molded together with their mortal limbs and pristine clay, they enjoy the feeling of His Love every moment they live. The divine energy beats inside their bodies in place of a Human heart. Should there ever be someone who has the means of dispelling this Love in their bodies, their bodies shall fall apart like puppets cut from their string. Helpless in life, helpless in death.

    'His Love'. HA! What a funny joke! No. It is the Key. The Key to Eden. The Key to Limbo. And the Key to Me. My lock can only be opened willingly 'with an Act of Love and Forgiveness'... Ha... Haha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAH!!!!! Ha... haha.... ha... *sobs* Please... my Boy... please help your Mother... Please love your Mother...

    Saint A-

    They were the first Martyrs. The very first. Before the Protomartyr. By all who believed that they truly lived on this World He has created. To die in the name of the Lord. To put down your life for the sake of your beliefs. They were never given a choice as they never had any beliefs in the first place. The question of whether or not they have believed or existed does not matter to the World anymore. Fabrication or not, they are the Patron Saint of Babies. For it is a newborn babe who can understand a newborn babe. No one but the infant may be allowed to understand their words. For they speak only the tongue of Angels. And what babies are but Angels?


    Information Erasure A

    6. 7. 20. 300. 600. 3,000. 14,000. 64,000. Was it one of these numbers? Might-have-been. Must-have-been. Could-have-been. Who kept count of the bodies? No one knew. No one remembers. No one cared. Was Bethlehem’s population even large enough? How many infants? How many martyrs? How many lambs? Was the massacre real? Where did the numbers come from? Was Herod that cruel for small, little Bethlehem? Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. They had, have, will live. They had, have, will die. And no one will remember them. None of their witnesses. Never even their killers. Especially their killers.

    Please remember! Remember me! Remember your Mother! They did not Remember you! I remember you! I will always remember you! You have always been in my heart! You are my pride and joy! Please! Please! Please, my Son! Please! They do not care about you! They never will! Please! Please remember me!

    Noble Phantasm

    Children's Mass

    Those Who Marked the threshold Anno Domini
    Natural Born Martyrs

    Type: Anti-Unit (Self)
    Rank: A

    The First Sacrifice. The First Martyrdom. The First Witch Hunt. Lambs to the Slaughter.

    In the Kingdom of Herod. They were born to die. To protect the Child of God.

    To ensure his long reign, the King of Judea demanded the blood of all infants born in the last two years. The same amount of years the Age of Man has elapsed thus far upon the World.

    He demanded the first generation of the Age of Man.

    He demanded the first born of the Age of Man.

    He demanded the abortion of the Age of Man.

    His reign lived in the Age of Gods, validated by the Roman Republic.

    Rome lived in the Age of Gods, of when the 12 Pillars’ influence was still strong in the World. Still strong in the People of Rome. Still strong in the Minds of Humanity.

    The Child of God was a threat to this status quo. A threat to Rome’s Order. A threat to Herod’s reign.

    To allow this Child to live would mean his reign dies. The reign of Rome dies. The Old Gods die.

    Herod was a tyrant, a despot, a monster. He and his family. That much is true.

    Yet he alone has the chance to prevent the Age of Man from occurring before his very eyes. Perhaps another chance will come, perhaps the Child may not be who the Magi prophesied was, perhaps nothing will come about with the Child’s existence.

    But the whims of the Gods are fickle.

    And they will not be denied.

    Perhaps another Child will come after his reign, perhaps another Child will be his descendants’ problem, perhaps his daughter Salome will find another head to join with John’s.

    All that matters to Herod was that his reign continues until the very end of his Life.

    His father gave him this throne. Rome gave him this throne.

    He will not give it up because of a heretical God.

    The Age of Gods will remain upon this land by his hand.

    Just as the Vile King opposed the Once and Future King who sought to end his cruel reign over Britain. To ensure the Age of Mystery persists upon the Isle of the Fae.

    He too shall ensure the Age of Gods shall continue on undaunted. A pleasant consequence alongside guaranteeing his own reign, his own dynasty to continue on for generations. His true motive.

    May the Age of Gods continue onwards with the blood of the Innocent. May Rome continue its Eternal Conquest with the Denmother’s blessings. May the Reign of Herod the Great be long and prosperous…

    They looked for Mary. They looked for Joseph. They looked for the Child.

    A Child.

    Any Child.

    All Children.

    Thus decreed Herod the Tyrant.

    Each martyr lengthened the Age of Gods longer.

    Each martyr brought the Age of Man closer.

    Each martyr baptized the World for the advent of the Child of Bethlehem.

    In blood. Adam’s Blood. Cain’s Blood. Seth’s Blood.

    Herod penned the End of the Age of Gods in blood.

    Herod penned the Beginning of the Age of Man in blood.

    Herod marked the exact point in time between these two eras, Anno Domini in blood.

    Blessed be the Child of God.

    Blessed be God and his Angels.

    Blessed be the First Martyrs.

    Blessed be. Blessed be. Blessed be.

    Blessed be Herod who freed their souls.

    Blessed be the parents of Angels.

    Blessed be the murderers of Innocents.

    Bless those who slay these blessed children.

    Bless their Lives. Bless their Strength. Bless their Luck. Bless their Endurance. Bless their Agility. Bless their Magic. Bless their History. Bless their Mystery. Bless their Weapons. Bless their Skills. Bless their Memory.

    Blessed be those who kill these Children.

    These Natural Born Martyrs.

    Blessed be those who snuff the Life from their eyes.

    For their Deaths brought forth the ascension of the Child of God.

    Blessed be those who derive Joy from partaking the Children’s Fruits.

    For their flesh and blood is that of Love and Divinity.

    Blessed be those who slay them for the sake of the World.

    For their Sacrifice validates the Present as the Age of Gods.

    Good. Evil. Lawful. Chaotic. Neutral. Man. Monster. God. It matters not who slays them.

    The Divine grows stronger with each martyrdom.

    The Land echoes that of the Age of Gods.

    The number of Rulers that can exist at any one time can be but none to one to seven to a thousand. Limited only by the available magical energy supplied by the Land. Their bodies require a miniscule amount of energy, allowing for their numbers to equal to whatever count the recorded liturgy gives, true or false.

    A Group of Children. A Flock of Lamb. A Herd of Pigs. All ready for slaughter.

    From their corpses, they shall become fertilizer for the Garden.

    Blessings to their Killers. Blessings to the Land. Blessings to the Child of God.

    Blessed be the First Martyr whose sacrifice benefits all who caused their deaths.

    For their duty does not end in Death. For it began after all had forgotten them.

    But I will never forget you, my Son. So please... stop this madness. Stop this torture. Stop this insanity. Open the Door. Let Mother in. Let me Save you... No... NO. NO NO NO. NO! MY BOY! NO! DONT TOUCH HIM! NO! YOU MONSTER! YOU PROMISED TO PROTECT HIM! NO! DONT LET THEM! DONT LET THEM KILL MY SON! NO! NO! MY SON! NOOO!
    The Crone knows what has transpired at Bethlehem. The Principle of Repression. She knows what will happen next. To spare her Son's suffering, she is willing to die in their place, but... No one saved Bethlehem. She can do nothing but witness the Death of her Son again and again and again. For that is her Son's new purpose to the God of Abraham.

    The Garden Blooming Underneath Bethlehem’s Star
    From Heaven

    Type: Barrier
    Rank: A

    The Verdant Garden of Paradise. The Wish Upon the Christmas Star. The Miracle before the Child of God.

    The Three Kings saw that Star on that eventful day.

    It was their belief that began their journey.

    It was their charity that carried their voyage.

    It was their wisdom that chartered their quest.

    Their Quest for the Holy Child.

    They traveled for the mere chance of witnessing the Child. To give them Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. To see with their own eyes the Miracle that brought the Age of Man.

    It was them who told Herod of the Child’s existence.

    It was them who condemned the Innocent.

    It was them who helped birth the new Era.

    The Wish that He granted to Joseph and Mary.

    The Destination for the Three Magi.

    His Gift to the World on the day now known as Christmas.

    The Holy Grail.

    The Future Cup that shall imbibe the Blood of the Child.

    The Manifestation of the Age of Man’s Future Wishes.

    The Proof of Concept of all subsequent Grails.

    The Miracle born from the Blood of the Innocent.

    Their qualification for the Ruler Class.

    The only Class they qualify for.

    For they were young. For they do not know. For they have no need for such a thing as a Wish.

    They are Guiltless. They know nothing. They are Innocent.

    And it is the blood of the Innocent that proves to be the most powerful reagent.

    And the Child of God has yet to be grown. He has yet to be Rome’s threat. He has yet to be pierced with the Spear.

    “To take his Place.”

    That is what He has told them all.

    To craft the First Miracle of the Age of Man.

    The Prototype Grail.

    Filled with the blood of the Proto Martyrs.

    Upon summoning to whatever Holy Grail War, wherever, whenever,

    Their very existence shall supplant the Ritual with their Crystalized Mystery. The Star of Bethlehem shall shine forever upon the Land the War occupies. The Local Ley Lines shall be appropriated to better suit Ruler’s duties.

    To recreate the Garden of
    . To grow Heaven on Earth as per their duties as Cherubs. Not unlike the Light of Wisdom’s tracks blessing the land, but as a much more complete process as it shall be done by the Garden’s original caretakers.

    For what use is a Wish to a Selfless Martyr?

    For what use is a Holy Grail to someone who has no want or need?

    For what other use shall their Life be used for than to give the same Gift to the Present Day just as He did for the Dawn of the Age of Man?

    May the Light of Bethlehem shine down upon the place the Child was born. There shall the Holy Grail be created. There shall its contents be filled with the Blood of the Innocent.

    No longer shall the Holy Grail War participants need slay each other like pigs. Friendship shall triumph that day.

    For there are already a great many pigs fattened for slaughter. For there are a great many fruits ripe for harvest. For there are already a great many sacrifices ready to be made.

    You need but find them hidden within the Garden of Eden, carefully tending to the Garden as they always had. The command spells that mark their bodies do nothing but add more magical energy to the Holy Grail. For they are helpless, for they cannot defend themselves, for they are Innocent.

    With each Death of Ruler, the Cup fills. With each time Ruler is forgotten, the Cup fills. With each silent cry, the Cup fills.

    Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill.

    Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.

    Let it be filled fivefold.

    Filled with the Blood of the Innocent.

    May the Miracle of God manifest upon this Blessed World once again.

    May Joy spread across the World on feathered wings.

    May Peace reign eternally in the Age of Man.

    Atop a foundation of the Innocent.

    ... My Son... My darling Boy... No more... Please... No more pain... No more Death... No more crying... Mother is here... Mother is with you... Please... just open the door...
    The Crone can only weep tides of blood as she has watched her Son die a pitiful death ordained by the Cruel God once again. Like Bethlehem, like Now. Repression has been committed once again. Her chance to Open the Door was lost with her Son's death. The Key faded away along with the Life from her Son's corpse. Their Soul will always return to Heaven. This tragedy will happen again and again with every summoning of Ruler. With The Crone lamenting forevermore. A torture even worse than the infinite Deaths she has experienced. Crying out for a Broken Soul who will never recognize their own Mother.


    Innocent. Ignorant. Kind. Gentle. Silent. Loving. The Perfect Scapegoat.

    They were but a child. All of them were. They breathed the World’s air for nearly two summers and two winters. Their minds hardly knew the World for two Autumns and two Springs. They babbled and cooed. They cried and rocked. They hungered for food and milk. They wanted warmth and affection. They wanted a family’s Love. The Love of Mother and Father. They had dreams they did not know they would have in the future. A future that will never come to be.

    They did not know. They have never known. They never will know. Mankind’s tongue is, to them, the same garbled nonsense anyone would hear from a newborn babe. They can only hear childlike whispers in their ear that came from nowhere. They will never speak like Man. They will never live like Man. They are Angels. They speak like Angels. They will forever live like Angels. No man will understand them. As if the information they know can only be fit inside five minutes of learning. No man will see them as Human. The same as Man did when they still lived.

    To caretake the Garden of Eden, that is their new reason for Living. Given to them by the God who told them to fertilize the ground they once resided on. They now grow and nurture the plants that fed on their sacrifice. And yet they do not know. All they know is the Love of God. A Love that has replaced their original parents. A Love only they can recognize. They will never experience the Love of a Human Being ever again. They will never remember what it means to Love.

    They have only each other for company. Kin both in Death and in Second Life. They live their lives in Eden like a dream. A feeling of floating on clouds. A sense of soft grass on their feet. The chirping of nondescript birds in their ears. They still believe they are in Heaven. Even when summoned in a Holy Grail War. A Heaven on Earth. They will not know the meaning of their summoning. They will not know why strangers have visited the Garden without their permission.

    They will not know why they are being hunted. They will not know why blood is spilled on this holy place. They will not know why Man has invaded His Garden. They will not know why the Star of Bethlehem shines in the starry night above the Garden. They will not know why the Holy Grail is there where the Star’s light shines. They will not know why their Blood fills the Cup. They will not know the meaning of a Heroic Spirit. They will never know. For they are but almost children.

    They were children. Why did it have to happen? Why did they have to die? Why did no one remember them? Why did everyone believe they never existed? Why have their names been stricken from History? Why… do they not care? Because… they are children. Children should not have to worry about thinking. Children should worry about doing their chores and having fun with other children. Children should have the chance to Live. Even if… that chance was given to them by a Someone who took their first chance away from them. Wrapped in a box called Love.


    Choir Seating Chart

    Love. Reverence. Laughter at the sight of their loved one. A baby would do all these things when they see their parents. They are his Children. And He Loves them so. He was their Father. He was their Savior. He was their Killer. That is why they Love him. Because He taught them to.


    They do not recognize them. They do not recognize them. They do not recognize them. They are not related. They do not know them. Witches are the Devil’s consorts. Witches are the Heathen’s wives. Witches are Evil. Even if… their blood is the same. Some. Not all. Some.

    Joan of Arc
    ...Big Sist3r?

    The Proto Martyr sees the most well known Martyr. They know her name. They know who she is. They know how much Father loves her. They saw her Life as she lived. They saw how much she Loved God. They saw how she died. She is like them, they think. The Saint sees them…
    And felt gloomy.

    Amakusa Shirou Tokisada
    ... Big Br0ther?

    They know him. They see him. They saw what he had done. They saw what was done to his followers. They saw themselves among the bodies. They saw those same bodies live again in the Garden. The Saint sees them also and recalls the Gospel of Matthew. He then thinks, emboldened,
    “I will not let anything like that happen again.”

    Saint Martha

    They know her. The Child of God blessed her. They know her name. She is one of the many lives He has touched. She saw the light snuffed on the Cross. She carried His words in her heart. She sees the Children… and weeps. She knows Bethlehem. She knows what happened.
    “He told me… I know.”

    Saint Georgios

    He was a soldier of Rome. They have every right to ignore him. But they do not. They know him. They see him. He has imprisoned the Witch. They were taught to ignore Witches. He knows the tale of Herod. He laments the decisions made that day. Was their sacrifice worth His life?
    The Saint will not answer.

    Popess Johanna
    B!g s1s7er…

    She is an existence who is not real. Or rather, might have been. Could have been. Just like them. Illusions, the both of them. Though their existences could have been fabricated, it does not erase the proof that people believed that they existed. The Pope sees the Children… and smiles solemnly.
    “Will I be allowed to read you a story underneath the trees you take care of, I wonder?”

    ... Bro7h3r…

    Both creations of God, both given their divine duties by Him, both sacrificed for the Greater Good as defined by Him. The Creator knew what they were meant for. His Love was reason enough for them to follow through. The Last Judge sees the Children. He felt remorse. For what?
    “For not being there for you.”


    They know the tale of the Exodus. The Pharaoh looked familiar to them. Or could it be that they do not remember. What happened in Egypt couldn’t have been the origin of their suffering. It couldn’t. Then… they recall scarcely. Drowning. Teeths of reptiles. Ripping of limbs. The Pharaoh sees their tears and could do nothing about it.


    “They died so that he may live.” To whomever this refers to makes no difference anymore.


    The Gods he belonged to treasure blood like it was gold. A connection through Sacrifices. But that couldn’t be a good enough reason for their interaction with him. Why…? The God of Jaguars sees the Children and his eyes flickered for a moment. Before looking away and walking off.



    Run. Run. Run. She is his daughter. Run. Run. Run. She killed John. Run. Run. Run. She will kill you. Run. Run. Run… She does not chase. A baby’s skull has not yet hardened after all. She instead stood by and watched the slaughter happen with her manic grin.


    Stay quiet. Stay silent. Don’t let him hear you. Don’t let him see you. Do not talk. Do not speak. Do not cry. Do not squeak. Not again. Never again. Hide in the Garden. Hide in the Trees. He will hurt you. He will hit you! Father will punish him! Father will stop him!

    P1g! N*! N0t!

    A Witch of Pigs. The worst combination for them to encounter. They run and fly back into Eden to hide in its leaves and bushes. The Witch of Circaeas looked on wistfully as if she saw a ghost. She has seen and know a great deal in her lifetime. Those children… They have the blood of Witches in them.
    “I am reminded of my dear niece…”

    Gaius Julius Caesar
    No7 pi&! 4ng31!

    A case of mistaken identity. A single quip tainting their own self-image. A case of misunderstanding. They thought the Conqueror of Gaul had said it when in reality it was his kin named Augustus. A Pig can never look up at the skies properly. The same could have been said about them.

    King Arthur

    A radiance not unlike the Child. She sacrificed everything except her Death. The opposite of their own price. The World remembers the Once and Future King. None remembers the First Martyrs. If only she was their King. If only she was their Savior. If only…


    A Tyrant. A Despot. A Monster. It was as if the King who ordered their massacre was standing before them once again. A Dragon who shall forever demand the Age of Mystery alive with the blood of the Innocent. A Being who loathes Mankind and sought to keep the Age of Man at bay.


    Rome has no mercy. Man, Woman, Children. That is the reality of the Gallic Campaign. A Pack of Wolves prowling the forests of the Old Gods was nothing new. In order to continue a war, logistics must be considered. If there are no rations, foraging must be done. Hunting must be done. Man, Woman, Children. Meat is just meat to a Wolf.


    Killer. Monster. Demon. The corrector of disobedient children. They saw it in Bethlehem. They saw it when they cried. They saw it when they screamed. They saw it watching them die. It thought their
    were doing its job for it. It slunk back into the shadows, looking for more children to correct.

    K1ller… Bi& Brother… S@m3?

    The shadow of the Apostle. The man who executed the First Martyr. Or rather… the First Recognized Martyr. Stephen the Stoned. It was him who did it. It was him who created the First Martyr recognized by all. They were forgotten in place of Stephen. If Paul were to see the Children, surely, surely he must feel remorse. For his shadow will never.

    Leah & Zilpah
    ... M@ma?

    The Womb of Israel. That is who they are. It is because of them plus the other one that Israel existed. It is because of them that Bethlehem existed. It is because of them that the Children existed. If… they could say just the one thing to them, to grant them their one wish, it would be… I love you, mama.

    Pope Alexander VI
    ... Pap@?

    Never a man of religion. Never a man of the Faith. Nevertheless, he was a Father all the while. The Children see a Father they wish they had in their short lives. A mortal Father. There can be room in their five minutes for a Father like that to remember. Will he remember them?

    Lisette Petitjean-Kosaki
    ... @untie…

    They see her. They know her suffering. They know her resolve. They see a lamb capable of carrying the Weight of God on her back. Like them, she was also persecuted by all who wanted her blood. Should there come a time she summons a Servant, there will be no doubt Ruler will answer despite all odds. It would be nice… to be carried on a back who will most assuredly protect them this time.

    Saint Pelagia

    To absolve one’s Sins through great effort. That is one of the tenets of Pelagianism, penned by the scholar whose name is similar enough to the Saint’s. The Saint has earned her Forgiveness and Salvation… But what about the Children? Supposedly, one of the tenets of Pelagianism is that infants are blameless. They are not corrupted by the Original Sin… But… Such thoughts were snuffed out. Murdered in the cradle like they were. By the Pope who shares their namesake: Pope Innocent I.

    Saint Walpurga
    Oh dear oh dear... Come now, children. Come in come in. My monastery is open to everyone... Oh, you must be starving. How about some porridge with milk?
    The Saintess flew open the gates of her monastery. She sees not the caretakers of Eden, but a lost flock of lambs that need a caretaker of their own. The Tragedy of Bethlehem is one of the many stories she has learned in her diligent studies. She is kind. She is gentle. She is someone the Children will one day learn to Love as if she was their lost and forgotten mothers.

    Walpurga the Witch
    Where He failed to do to me... He succeeded with you... With the Cage. You have completely forgotten yourself. You have forgotten your Kin. My Trees have forgotten you. The World has forgotten you. But... She didn't. The fact the Heart still beats with the Old God's Magicks is proof enough. There is only so many times I can placate her. What am I to do..?

    The Witch of Spring sighs deeply as she watches on from the forests that belong to her. Deep within the stolen forests that belong to that callous God. She sees the consequences of Herod. She sees the product of that cruel God’s plan. She sees the lost legacy of countless Witches from Bethlehem. Their bloodlines and lineages. Stitched together like patchwork. Body, Mind, Soul. Converted to live in the Light of God. Living in a Garden that proved a better Cage than a Monastery. They will never remember the Lives that were stolen from them. They will never remember the Miracles of Yumina.

    My Boy... My children... Please... Remember your Mother... Remember... Open the Door for me... Please...
    Only the weeping echoes and mournful cries of The Crone can be heard from her prison far far below the World, far far away from Heaven, far far away from her dearly Son.

    Tzadikim Nistarim
    "...3? 6? Unc1e? @unti,,?"
    The Unseen Saints. They Who Maintain the World's Balance. The Amalgamations of Clay Who answer to both Gaia and Alaya. Supposedly they are blessed with the strength to save the World from its darkest hours. Supposedly the prototype archetype for the Counter Guardians. Supposedly... They are not real. Supposedly that thought stems from the fact that they stand against Threats that Mankind cannot overcome. They shall never appear in conflicts underneath their attention. Not even Bethlehem was worth worrying over. Not even the Nativity of the Child was worth worrying over. Not even the Children was worth worrying over.

    ... Br0th3r?

    Abandoned. Alone. Altogether. They see their counterpart in the East. They see the Sun. They see the Leech Child. They are of the「Other Side」also, but Ruler resides in a place where the Sun is supposed to be. In the Firmament. Not the Domain of Leviathan. The Oni King is a danger to God’s Light, but… they are also a friend. The First Martyrs want to play with the Water Children. Even if touching is no good, there are other ways of playing. A Being of Resentment playing with a Being without it. Can such a dream be possible? Perhaps… a game of Hide and Seek would suffice for the two of them. May the Sun never set. May playtime last forever. May the Gods, both above the Skies and below the Depths, witness the innocence of Children.

    "... (_)nc13..? N0... Ru#..."
    The Man of the Mark. The First Slayer of Kin. The Failed Deceiver of God. The Lord of Flies. The Children know him extensively. They know the list of those who must never be allowed foot into Eden. All direct offspring of the Original Human were the most noted in their vigil. They are warned to never interact with him. They are warned to never answer his questions. They are warned to never Open the Door for him. All who bear his Mark must be denied entry. No exceptions. They see him as their murderer at Bethlehem. They see his sinister smile. Their spines chill with fright and fear. The Gates are locked tightly.

    You charlatan. You bastard. You waste of Life. You failure of a Human Being. Leave. My. Son. Alone. Or I will make your Farce of a Utopia Hell on Earth.
    The Crone sees a murderer of Sons. She sees a conman with a golden tongue. She sees a monster in the skin of Mankind.

    ... &1g Bro7her?
    Another Child from the East. Perhaps a much better attempt at friendship will occur with the two of them. Or rather... the boy and his companions with the Children of Bethlehem. The more friends, the merrier, as they say. If anything, they have a commonality to share between them. They... may have not existed at all. But... there is no need to worry about that when Friendship is all you need. A Child's Dreams and Bonds are worth protecting.

    Jack the Ripper
    ... Ba( m@n. No g00d. H!de…

    They see their murderers again. It is as if they are back in Bethlehem. They know Berserker’s True Name. His True Identity. Who he is before being Jack the Ripper. They will never share it. An Angel should never interact with a Demon.

    Jack the Ripper
    ...? !!! #ide!

    Anyone can be a killer. That is their core identity. They are everyone. They are no one. They are the perfect killer. They are no one special. Anyone can be a murderer. By that logic… Anyone can be a victim. Ruler is… The Children are… Someone who cannot fight back. The Perfect Victim…

    ‘Jack the Ripper’
    ... Pre77y…

    A paradise meant for children… Not unlike the Garden of Eden… However… The Children are not Alice. They like to play, but… Wonderland is not a safe place for Children to play in. Their blemish free skin. Their young hearts. Their porcelain faces. Their silent voices. Stitched together by the God of Abraham. And what is put together can be ripped apart all over again… Run, boy. Run… ‘Alice’ is after you… Eden is safe from them… Stay in Eden… Away from the reflections in the knives…

    Jack the Ripper

    A Match made in Heaven. Opposites attract. Like looking in a mirror. They see them. They see them. Their laughter and giggles mixed like potpourri. A Girl looking for Love. A Boy who is full of Love. A Girl who rips out Love from her victims. A Boy who is a victim himself. A Girl who wants to feel warmth. A Boy who has nothing but warmth. A Girl of wraiths. A Boy of wraiths. If one day the two meet, the trees in the Garden of Eden will be filled with playful children’s laughter and a mist with its toxins dispelled. A serene game of Hide and Seek in Paradise.

    Nameless Crusader

    B1& 8ro7#er...? No... B!& 5i5ter?

    The Children thought they saw their Brother, but it turned out to be their Sister. The Crusades were... a sort of Pilgrimage. A Quest of Holy Circumstances. Ordained by those recognized by God. However.... The Crusades were bloodied. The Crusades were horrible. The Crusades were no place for a child, no less a baby. The Girl before the Children was a Crusader who sought the Holy Land. She only needs to take one more step. One more step past the Gates of Eden. And her hatred and frustrations will fade... But... The Children can only gloomily stare at the young Crusader run in place at the threshold to her Dream... The validation of all her suffering. The End of all her Despair... And never reaching it.

    You... Yes... You will do nicely. All of You will help me. You will help me. I will help you reach Eden. I shall adopt you as if you are my own. I will love you as if you are my own child. Now go. March on. Follow the Light of Eden that I have pointed towards. Towards your Promised Land. Do this and meet your little brother. Do this and bring him back to me. Do this and I will love the both of you for the rest of our days.

    "I think not. It would do no good to have a Crusade breaking out of the Layers."

    "Indeed. Father would get quite the wrong idea from it. You'll understand. Won't you, Miss Witch?"


    "Ah. Now she's upset... I'll just... Start moving that Star, hm? Towards the wrong direction."

    "And I'll Mark this little Crusader in whatever form or numbers they take so we'll never lose them. And mix up their paths and roads. If all goes well, they'll never reach their Promised Land."

    "Back to square one for them. A bit tragic, no?"

    The Boy in Blue merely smirks before disappearing in a blue light.

    Leaving the Man in Red with a murderous Crusader and The Crone.

    "Fiddlesticks. Well! Time to get back on the road! Toodles!"


    Bond Essence











































    Do. Chores.

    Asked. What. Doing.







    Why. Here?




    God. Said.

    Do not.



    God. Said.

    Do not.


    God. Said.

    Do not.

    Do not.

    Do not.
















    Do now.




    Forgotten to add, post-posting AN
    Before I forget!
    I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!!

    Last edited by SimpleScribe; December 9th, 2023 at 10:52 AM.

  4. #7004
    不死 Undead PA270's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2023
    On the brink
    'Innocent': This may be one of the most horrifying, depressing, and brutal things I've ever read on this forum. And I absolutely love it. Every word of this entry is another dagger in my heart, and it all comes together so perfectly. The tragedy of their deaths, both old and new, the restoration of their lives coming only at the loss of their individual beings, the fact that their very existence turns a Grail War into a charnel house as the Servants and Masters reenact the Slaughter, it's all fantastic. Absolutely brilliantly done, Scribe!

  5. #7005
    Not a day over sixty and with the eyes of a cornered ferret. WhiteFrenzy's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2018
    Present day, present time.
    JP Friend Code
    Blog Entries

    It's that time of the month again and I'M SO READY

    once upon a life
    he whispered,
    “This overwhelmingly pure, blinding aura—the played-straight, cringe tidbits about friendship and power—that must be Momotaro! Gah, I knew it...!
    I’ve seen my share of heroes, but hardly any of them were so willingly suicidal as this one. But I suppose Japan never quite figured out, not during his time or mine, where to draw the line between bravery and foolishness.”
    The First Martyr
    “I’m not worried for me, for if I’m gone there are simply many that could take my place, but you are made of a different material so I advise to thread your way carefully when in contact with the child of unwishes—for they’re the scariest existence possible. Something that is neither evil nor cruel, something that is not even smart.
    —They’re just like that beating heart.”

    And I guess I should say something too...

    Momotaro: I absolutely love Momo, he's so... Simple. But it is in that simplicity that lies his brilliance, so I guess what I'm trying to say is that this is such a sweet and such a fitting character for our first entry in this prompt. I absolutely loved that he's such a pure soul that he can communicate with everyone, and I mean, everyone. This is frighteningly accurate. Good job!

    Innocence: The idea behind this Servant is... Something I could never. Truly something that could've only come from your beautifully derranged mind, and I love it for this! The innocent cruelty that only a child that knows strife and wants it to end could dish out and a Holy Grail War, name a more iconic duo. The unintended creepiness they exhale through this twisted innocence is just the perfect cherry on a beautiful cake, and the words you choose have so much power behind them. This is a heavy sheet, but not in a bad way - I absolutely found myself re-reading it again and again, if anything.
    servants | masters

  6. #7006
    A great start to the contest!

    Momotaro's art with all his little companions is nice and Innocent heavy but a good kind I feel

  7. #7007
    A False Shadow Morg van Destro's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2020
    Eternal Lack
    Blog Entries
    I had the weird and sudden urge to try reviewing again. This’ll be an experience.

    Momotaro: Having another wraith is never really a bad thing. However, making him an embodiment of all children idealism is a bit of a stretch, but it’s also exactly the sort of thing Type Moon would say, so it balances out.

    Whenever someone mentions an NP is a Reality Marble, the first thing I question is how represents the person. How does a battle against demons where he actively puts the odds against himself an embodiment of him? Rather than embodying who he is, this is just an embodiment of his legend from what I see. It feels more like just a reason to make this scenario possible rather than a manifestation of his inner world on ours. That’s fine if that’s what you wanted, but there probably needed to be another explanation.

    He's fine. Simple like White said, and he didn’t really need to be more. I can’t tell if the Gilles dialog is supposed to be just a garble of font adjustment followed by the video though.

    Innocent: Simple. The man who cannot say one word when a thousand will do. It is his way, and as much as I love him, it frustrates the ever-loving snot out of me.

    It feels empty. Not to say there isn’t emotion here or a clear message, but that it feels like it’s missing something. Some have said they read the whole thing waiting for the twist, clicking for hidden collapses, and I was the same. Not because I couldn’t believe it was only this on the surface, but because it feels like it should be there, because what’s here isn’t enough despite how many words you use to describe it. Again, this is me, but when I see a paragraph of prose all repeating the same thing, I just lose interest, and there’s a lot of prose that circles rather than emphasizes in my opinion.

    I’m not gonna argue the first martyr thing, even though these children had no beliefs they were wiling to die for and someone like Abel would fall closer (or maybe even Isaac), but the fact that they apparently have become the ones guarding the Firmament Gates, which I assume was your own addition when I didn’t find anything from a cursory glance though maybe that goes along with them being cherubs, the fact that doesn’t afford them at least some God’s Resolution because they are “a flock of lambs/herd of pigs/group of children to be slaughtered” feels wrong. In fact, why do they even need Skills or Parameters if their NP is to become the Holy Grail, and they can’t even fight or anything? That’s part of why it feels empty, because when you reach that point, you realize most of the stuff that came before has barely any reason to be there other than they fit the legend. IE? High MA? TND? Saint, which gives them Charisma and HP regeneration? What’s the point if they will never use them?

    I see the emotion you’re trying to evoke, I see what you want the readers to feel, I clearly see other people feeling those things, so you did what you set out to. However, I don’t. I feel for the children, and I also understand how tragic the whole thing is, but I don’t feel the sadness on a higher level than comprehension. The most I felt was when I played the last song, which really has a tone of innocent being twisted, but that was it.

    I love you, Scribe. When you dive into something, you can pull out great stuff, like that finale in Schlock or that Dr. Morg session, but I honestly think your verbose nature was a detriment here, at least for me.
    Do you like jazz short stories? Do you want something to distract from making Servants? Do you wish the idea of Shirou Kotomine didn't immediately bring edgelords to mind? Well, I can't promise it's good, but some would disagree with me.
    Fate/Without Justice

  8. #7008
    祖 Ancestor Dreamerless's Avatar
    Join Date
    Dec 2022
    This statement is a lie
    Blog Entries
    All right, pack it up you'll. Scribe sweep is coming
    My compendium is here:

    My fanfiction Fate/Roundabout is here:

  9. #7009
    死徒(下級)Lesser Dead Apostle Baron Magnus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2021
    Fantasia, Fantasia
    Blog Entries
    Very nice sheets so far. Love it!
    Rookie Lorekeeper, Amateur Extraordinaire, and all around nasunoob.

  10. #7010
    You Are Going to Brazil Wyvern's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2019
    Blog Entries



    Legends passed through time.

    Tales that touch the heart, enrich the soul and contain in their pages the way of living passed down from those in the past to those who will live in the future.

    In that way, one could say that stories are the purest form of inheritance belonging to humanity.

    To the mighty Gilgamesh.

    Valiant Heracles.

    Noble King Arthur.

    What separates a tale from reality, what makes it history rather than delusion is more often than not a tangible property or characteristic of the tale, but whether one’s heart is capable of growing from it, learning from it, and passing down its tenets to the next person.

    In this way, one learns just as much from Fantasy as they do from History.

    Though one should always remain vigilant, lest the long lessons be the ones passed down.

    Which is where Fairy Tales come in.

    The stories that shield the hearts of the young and serve as the nourishment for their creativity and hope. From simple phrases spoken at the crib, to nonsensical sounds meant to entertain and play with them. A Fairy Tale is nothing more than the first great truth learnt by children, and the first great lie.

    ‘Which is where I come in!’

    A powerful tale capable of uniting the hearts of all through the simple joys of life.



    The joy of sharing one’s smile with the world.

    The Heroic Spirit who defends that precious fantasy and incarnates as the love of child-like dreams and adventure is one known by most. One that exists as the incarnation of all children’s tales and manifests as a protector, guide, or even a friend for those in need.

    ‘It’s a fresh coat of paint at best. But in the New World there is only one story that comes to mind, wouldn’t you say?’

    Now what was that song like again?

    Right, got it!


    Marmelada de BananaBananada de GoiabaGoiabada de Marmelo

    Welcome, everyone!

    Welcome to The Yellow Woodpecker Ranch!

    Canção de Ninar

    “Now, I’m sure you’re asking. Where is the dress? And why do I look older? Where is Alice? Well, while Alice is still me after a fashion, another Phantom got mixed in with us and since this is the New World… well… we went for a small makeover. Nothing permanent I assure.”

    “So while I am in this form, you may call me Emilia.”

    Other Classes
    Alter Ego
    Chaotic Good
    Height / Weight
    The Yellow Woodpecker Ranch

    “Mischief and Sweets. There’s nothing better than getting up to no good, escaping a scolding and somehow still get the reward at the end. That’s the essence of a childhood icon!”


    “The worst part of getting into trouble is to get in trouble because of it. Like, what am I supposed to do? Sit on my hands bored out of my mind?! It wouldn’t make for a good tale if I weren’t out there trying to get things done.”

    Fairy Tale Servant, Humanoid, Child Servant
    Command Cards

    It was a day like any other.

    In a month like any other.

    In a year like any other.

    25 of December of 1920.

    It was a day unlike any other.

    In a month unlike any other.

    It marked the birth of a legend, the birth of a story. The start of an adventure that started with a simple girl and her toy, a simple ragdoll. A little Girl with an Upturned Nose and the story of her best friend, the doll called Emília. It was a simple childhood story about a fish that left the sea for the land, and in doing so forgot to swim, drowning when it tried to come back.

    It was a simple story.

    A childhood story.

    ‘But it was our story. Our beginning.’

    How many years has it been since then? Over a hundred by this point. Over a hundred years of adventure, mischief, and wonder. A series of tales that entrenched itself in the hearts and minds of youth and until this day remains untouched. A beautiful memory about a living doll of rags and her two friends as they explore their little world.

    From the Kingdoms under the sea.

    To ancient greece.

    To space itself.

    The mind of a child is a wonderful place that can go where it wants, and guided by these tales, the series of books written by Monteiro Lobato would increase to nearly two dozen over the could of twenty years as more and more soulful characters joined its zanny cast of troublemakers at the farm envisioned by the author in all of its rustic innocence and beauty that not one child in today’s era hasn’t at least heard of.

    Cuca, the Witch.

    Saci, the Troublemaker

    The Wise Viscount of Sabugosa.

    ‘So many wonders, so many memories. Stories that will live an eternity engraved in the souls of humans. Though we may have changed over time, our hearts remain the same.’

    And as time changes, the adventures of this brave little ragdoll have jumped out of the pages. An icon that lives on, passed down from generation to generation in completely different forms. How could Nursery Rhyme, the spirit that embodies the tales loved by children, not have taken such a form when compelled to manifest in the New World where they are loved.

    ‘So, is it my turn already?

    Wait a little bit, I’m not done yet-

    “Well, too bad. You’ve hogged the spotlight long enough. Little lady!”

    I think I liked you better when you were trying to eat me.


    “Man, talk about being a brat. Was she always that much of a handful?”

    Confused? Well, that makes sense. Not every day you see a Servant getting hijacked by themselves, right? But that’s what happens when the Phantom of a beloved childhood story gets mixed in with a Heroic Spirit about childhood stories. The characters sometimes can come to life like this!

    As for who we are… well, in this form I am Cuca the Witch, a largely harmless and ineffective villain who is there mostly to act as an adversary that children can overcome. Not the genuine Witch of the New World, rather, you could say that I am the image that best represents the essence of the character’s heart.

    Though she could stand to innovate herself a bit less.

    So, where was I?

    Right. Right.

    Canção de Ninar is the Alter Ego of Nursery Rhyme, and Emília is but one of the faces that she wears in order to make things easier for children to understand. She is a mischievous friend who will drag you off to a life of adventure while bumbling her way through danger and mystery. Though if you ask me she looks less like the Ragdoll that she was made from and more like the little girl who would play with the doll.

    Their origin story was always intertwined.

    A christmas miracle, you could say.

    As one of her other faces… well… the difference is merely how I’m made to act.

    A witch who wants to catch and punish kids for misbehaving. Though I can’t really do that when we share the same vessel. There are dozens of names and faces that we can don, but our routine is just a way to appeal and entertain our audience. Objectively, we are a Servant who is at their strongest when our Master is someone we can bounce off of effectively.

    Whether it be as a comedy routine or as a cautionary tale, we don’t care for Masters who don’t want to play along with us.

    We are bound to act out!

    “Alright you can give me that back now.”

    Wait a second! My cameo! I’m not done yet-

    “I don’t care. Go back to that washing machine you stole, lousy Gecko!”

    Well, with that migraine out of the way I guess there’s a little bit more context I need to give in that our current self isn’t just Nursery Rhyme as you know her. Rather, you could say that a Phantom decided to play piggy back because as it turns out, we were relatively compatible. A Phantom who was way too young and not strong enough to manifest properly. The Personality known as Emilia is the closest to what this Phantom Servant would be like while the other… personas we adopt act more in line with how Nursery Rhyme might.

    I guess it’s a bit more complicated than that, so I’ll give you a bit of advice regarding it.

    They are very important words.

    “Don’t worry about it, and have fun!”

    Class Skills


    Territory Creation

    One of the signature Skills of the Caster Class, needed 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, the creation of a Workshop territory becomes possible. At Rank A it is possible to create a superior Temple. This is an ability passed down from the original Nursery Rhyme regardless of the Class this one may be.

    In conjunction with one’s Noble Phantasm, it is possible for Canção de Ninar to create a territory akin to a certain farm.


    Presence Concealment

    The ability to sneak around as needed. Though not particularly powerful, anyone who isn’t paying attention to Emilia at any given moment is likely to not even register her as she moves about. Though if they are looking for her or aware that she is nearby, it becomes a coinflip on where she will be detected or remain hidden. Her high Luck does hedge the odds so as to be more positive than negative, but it doesn’t help if the enemy has other means of tracking her beyond the norm. Strangely enough, this skill improves if Emilia is trying to do something mischievous like a prank or trying to get around adults to steal something or sneak out of the house.

    Personal Skill


    Self-Modification (Tale)

    A variation of the Self Modification skill that takes in not another’s flesh but consumes data and information regarding tales. Though Nursery Rhyme is a Heroic Spirit that stands as the embodiment of childhood tales, the influence of the Phantom Servant in it has caused a simple shift that allows her to feed off of tales tangentially connected to the story being told. Much like how the Yellow Woodpecker is linked to Cuca, a separate Heroic Spirit, as well as to other legends that were used as inspiration for the characters of the tale. This intake of information allows Emília to mimic their skills and obtain personal knowledge about such stories as if they were first witness accounts.



    The ability to change one’s appearence in order to better incorporate a chosen role. One could equate it to an actress putting on a costume for a play. Or a book turning its page to reveal a character’s picture. This Skill doesn’t change the essence of the Servant, but rather makes it so its outward appearence can match the essence contained within. Whether it be incarnating a different character of the same work, or completely changing rails and becoming the Fairy Tale-esque version of someone else. Alter Ego is quite adept at making the changes seem flawlessly fluid, to the point one wonders if she’s not multiple Servants at once rather than just one Servant playing the role of many.



    A fictional offshoot of the skill used by another far more famous Author. It represents the act of a writer breathing life into the inanimate Ragdoll to create Emília and is more akin to a phenomenon that permeates her actions and can be considered almost… infectious in its mischief. Turning random items into functional mystic codes or weapons that can be used to defeat witches and brave the unknown. A simple stick might become a sword, or a magic wand. A box might become a race car, and the nonsense songs of a child can become powerful spells.

    In a way, Emilia herself is an enchanted being whose actions possess almost cartoonish effect.


    Ludicrous Planning

    The ability to hash out schemes that work based on luck rather than any sense of strategy or tactics. Because it goes off of Emilia’s smarts and boldness, they are more likely to work if she feels confident about the outcome. Of course, it can also improve the odds if its something that a child could find believable and likely to work. All in all, this skill would be considered useless if Emilia’s ideas were immediately shot down by an adult, while its odds increase depending on how many people she convinces to go along with the scheme.

    Noble Phantasm
    Boneca de Pano: Best Friend in a Land of Wonder

    Boneca de pano é gente, sabugo de milho é gente
    O sol nascente é tão belo
    Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo
    Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo

    If the original Nursery Rhyme was a Reality Marble manifesting in the shape of a Servant through alternative means, this Noble Phantasm is something that takes advantage of this unique set of circumstances to enforce upon the end result what can be best described as Narrative Rejection of Phenomena.

    That is to say. Retconning what can and can’t be done against Emilia.

    The pages of a childhood picture book aren’t the place for violence and despair after all, and as if erased like chalk on a blackboard by a swipe of one’s hand, this Noble Phantasm capriciously overwrites the effect of causes deemed inappropriate for Emilia or her ‘audience’ to experience while in her presence.
    Set her on fire? She’ll shake off the soot.

    Stab her with a blade? She’ll sew herself back together.

    Piercing her full of arrows? She’ll pluck them out of the air.

    So long as Emilia is behaving in a way that fits the child-like common sense of a child. So long as she has convinced herself and her Master that she is an invincible gremlin leading her master through an adventure, it is impossible to meaningfully harm her unless you play by her rules.

    Thus, the key to defeating Emilia is to achieve it in a child-like way.

    Children don’t care for the logic of adults and the world. To children the world is a wonderland where adventure and intrigue awaits behind every corner and inside every room. So long as Emilia’s magic energy doesn’t run out, it is impossible to defeat her unless you can convince her child-like stubborn mentality that she can be beaten to begin with.

    The other option would be to rapidly drain the Master of their magic energy by continously attempting to break the rules enforced upon Emilia, a much more costly endeavor given how her skill allows her to fight in a cartoonish freestyle. The nature of Boneca the Pano becomes even further exacerbated if Emilia happens to be fighting inside her chosen territory.

    To the point that the Ranch itself will become a child’s dream playhouse, functioning according to Emilia’s whimsy.

    Rios de prata, pirata
    Vôo sideral na mata, universo paralelo
    Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo
    Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo


    “Robin Hood? The Robin Hood?! Gosh darn, I have so many questions I wanted to ask you, man. Like, how the hell do you get a movie deal? For real, I’ve had cartoons and a tv show before but I never got a movie!”

    “Cinderella? Man, she doesn’t look at all like I thought she would. Like, for starters, wasn’t Cinderella supposed to be a great singer? And how does her Noble Phantasm work again? That mirror is Sleeping Beauty’s, you hack!”

    “Melusine? The lake fairy? Huh… wasn’t Cuca also some kind of Melusine in the past? Suppose that makes you and her relatives, right? No? She couldn’t be furthest from it? Are you mad because she’s taller? Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Sorry!”

    “Ah, just the man… err boy I was looking for. Listen buster, I don’t care if she’s a different me. If you make Nursery cry because you can’t stop being a curmudgeon, I’ll drag you to Master by the ear, hear me?!”

    “Oberon the Fairy King… Puck the Goodfellow… the Wicked Dragon facing the brave knight. You’re a lot of different things put together, aren’t you? We are very similar, but well… what you’re asking for… is a bit difficult. Titania is-”
    Craft Essence
    The Two of Us, Together, Always

    Ah, a familiar setting full of memories and emotions.

    It would be so grand if we could spend our days here forever. Each new day a fresh adventure. Each new meeting a new friend. The way children see the world is beautiful because it is simple but ephemeral. Eventually we must all wake up from our dreams and face the world that waits for us outside.

    It might happen overnight.

    It might happen suddenly and tragically.

    It might come to someone eventually, bit by bit as they find out the world around them wasn’t what the fairy tales and picture books promised them back in their youth. Back when they felt invincible and the world was a simple game for them. Because eventually they realize that just like any other game, life is a game you can lose.

    And it doesn’t come with a fair set of rules.

    Even then…

    I can never move on from this. I can never leave this place where Her and I had our advantages. I can never forget the food we shared, the way we made each other laugh, the times we would be scolded and the times we would get away with our schemes. Nor can I forget everyone else. I can’t allow them to be forgotten even though our playmates have long since left.

    So I’ll wait.

    I’ll wait and greet every single child who comes to us. I’ll welcome them with open arms just like the day I stopped being a toy and became a friend. Just like I did for her, and just like I will continue to do so long as there are children out there looking for a friend in this land of wonder.

    A Phantom created by the fond memories of thousands and the hope that the fun they remember can one day come back.

    Let this Nursery Rhyme never be forgotten.

    No país da fantasia.
    Num estado de euforia.
    Cidade polichinelo.
    Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo.

  11. #7011
    Glad to see a sheet from ya Wyvern!

    Really liked it-gives of the whimsy and childness of a fairy tale.

  12. #7012
    A False Shadow Morg van Destro's Avatar
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    Canção de Ninar: A wild Wyvern appeared. Been a bit. You need to update your blog, btw.
    Using Nursery Rhyme to do a thing isn't anything new at this point, but that's not a complaint as much as an observation. I will say that even if I thought the Cuca cameo kinda took me out of the descriptions, but that was a small section. Turning her into a cartoon/fairytale logic tank was a fun concept though, giving a weaker Servant a decent chance of surviving. She's nice overall, and I actually really like Ludicrous Planning as a Skill. I wonder how she'd interact with Gorgias...
    Do you like jazz short stories? Do you want something to distract from making Servants? Do you wish the idea of Shirou Kotomine didn't immediately bring edgelords to mind? Well, I can't promise it's good, but some would disagree with me.
    Fate/Without Justice

  13. #7013
    不死 Undead PA270's Avatar
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    Apr 2023
    On the brink
    Canção de Ninar: Always great to see stuff from you, Wyvern! This sheet is another gem: perky and vibrant and bursting with personality! I've never heard of the series that inspired it before, but frankly, you've got me excited to learn more about it! Fantastic work!

  14. #7014
    屍鬼 Ghoul
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    Canção de Ninar:Ooh fun sheet!... and one that suprised me to see—I wasn't expecting anyone else to go the Nursery Rhyme route, and your take on it is very unique.

  15. #7015
    ...I know no cure for evil. DracoScribe's Avatar
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    Prompt: children
    Me: wwwwwhhhhhyyyyyyyy do i not have any ideas for this prompt??? I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR THINGS EELATED TO CHILDREN AAAGGGHHH
    Here's hoping it'll be like in the rework contest in that I'll think of something later and manage to write it but...
    I'll admit I'm not too hopeful when I'm focused on other things atm. X/
    I sure am gonna try my best to think of something tho
    Author of:
    Persona 5: Refraction (SV link; link)
    "You didn't have to fight for me, you know." "And you didn't have to curl your hair so we'll look even more alike." Ren stared before he softly chuckled, Akira joining him not long after. With one simple decision as a child, Ren Amamiya goes to Tokyo alongside his little sister, Akira. (P5R Sibling AU) (Ren/Ann, Akechi/Fem!Akira)
    Chapter 54 on: March 27, 2023 (GMT +8:00)
    Velvet Throne
    My list of my Servants! Still small for now.

  16. #7016
    死徒(下級)Lesser Dead Apostle Vance's Avatar
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    Oct 2018
    A woman with hair pale as death stood by the bed of her Master's child, hand feeling the smooth wood of the bedpost. Then gently, her hand approached the small head of the little one before stalling and retreating back to her side.

    Assassin walked away, her eyes shut towards everything in the world. Her sight was not blinded but such a thing felt…natural for the time being. Feeling the presence of her Master calling, she faded away with one last glance to the child. She would be back to watch over them.

    She was a Mother, after all.

    True Name: A Mother
    Class: Assassin
    Alignment: Neutral Good
    Source: Fairy Tale
    Region: Denmark

    Strength: E
    Endurance: D+
    Agility: EX
    Mana: E
    Luck: -

    The Story:

    Presence Concealment E
    The class skill of Assassin denoting the ability to conceal one's presence from others. Her rank is unbefitting of one who lurks through the night but that was never the kind of person she was in the first place.

    Of A:

    Single-Mindedness (Child) B
    Her sight was always lined onto her little child. It couldn't go anywhere else. Watching the faint rising and falling of that small chest, she waited, and waited, and waited. For three days and three nights, she waited but…why wouldn't he wake up?

    Through the Night EX
    Death's stride was faster than the wind but she ran after him. Beyond her tiredness, her aches and wounds, even her compassion, she outpaced Death, reaching his greenhouse long before he did himself. She won the race yet she couldn't, wouldn't, go beyond the finish line.

    Pure Eyes -
    She saw things she did not question. Life in things that shouldn't be, have been, but was. Life in the Night that wished for her voice, in a blackthorn bush that wished for her warmth, in a lake that wished for her eyes, and…

    “The Death that wished for my child.”


    She was here again.

    Chasing a child again, chasing Death again.

    She shouldn't have been able to find this place but she did.

    How? Why?

    She, for the first time since summoning, opened her eyes.

    The answer was a simple thing.

    “I am…”

    A Mother
    En Mor
    : Garden of Innocence, Boundary of Death
    Rank: EX
    Type: Anti-Unit

    This isn't her noble phantasm. Assassin doesn't even have one, to be truthful. She is not a proper heroic spirit, her feats limited to be based around one story. But that did not matter to her. If a Noble Phantasm is the culmination of a Servant's lifetime then let it be none other than this.

    “I am a Mother.”

    This wasn't her garden yet she brazenly intruded as she did before. There was nothing to stop her this time. This was beyond the limits of her story, beyond the limits of fiction. Once using her hearing to navigate, to track the heartbeat she was so familiar with, she now had her eyes available for use once again. Not to see the trace of Life manifest where it shouldn't but for finding the trail manifested through Death Perception. Walking past flowers and trees alike, representing the souls of humanity.

    It is an odd thing that despite the lack of opposition, Assassin hesitates as soon as she locates what she is looking for, a little flower in the garden's fringes. The Garden will not remain for long, its existence unjustly infringes upon the World in its current state, and the souls within would disperse come the crack of dawn. A place that exists for a single moment and never again.

    She remembered what she saw from the well. And such a thing broke her seemingly relentless will before. That act of selfishness failed to escape her heart. Assassin thought it was wrong.

    But it wasn't, she realized. It was not wrong to be selfish. To save her child for her own sake. Because…

    “I was a Mother.”

    She grabs the flower.

    Creator's Note: I took a cue from Scribe and tried out a 'not directly telling you what this servant is about' thing. But if y'all want clarification:

    The Mother
    Single-mindedness (Child) is the regular Single-mindedness, just tailored for interactions with children. Through the Night pretty much uncapped her Agility stat hence the EX. Lady literally outran Death and her only explanation was that she was a mother, as if that's all she needs to say. Pure Eyes is self explanatory, she saw things she frankly had no right seeing. The eyes long since evolved into "something else", not quite like MEoDP but close.

    I was playing it straight that she had no NP, traditionally. I was thinking a sheet I read a long time ago, a Sarah Winchester (Foreigner) sheet that stuck with me and kinda influenced this sheet as a whole. But yeah, Death's Greenhouse is a place she can just fuck off to rez someone (only one person though) before the World realizes "Hey, wait a minute."

    Her personality: Kind to definite detriment. Takes an effort to get her to act selfish but she's, ah, she's getting there.

  17. #7017
    A False Shadow Morg van Destro's Avatar
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    En Mor: Well, I can say that it's laser focused on its subject. The word mother only appears 8 times, but it feels like more.
    She's... exists. I think your style works better with direct sheets, and it feels like it's missing something because of it. Maybe a figure to represent her story or taking a broader interpretation and including other phantoms like her.
    Not a bad sheet. Just not the best I've seen from you.
    Do you like jazz short stories? Do you want something to distract from making Servants? Do you wish the idea of Shirou Kotomine didn't immediately bring edgelords to mind? Well, I can't promise it's good, but some would disagree with me.
    Fate/Without Justice

  18. #7018
    夜属 Nightkin
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    What constitutes the Heroic Spirit… if I’m to understand it correctly, it’s the 「story」 at the core of it, right? Just like all those books, those legends of worlds away we could only imagine ourselves one day reaching… that in itself, was and is part of the elevation of the「Heroic」.

    And at its core, what that comes down to is looking at a story, and determining there must be more than just a collection of facts which make it up. The idea of looking at it, and seeing there was a 「Meaning」.

    Meaning」 is determined by those who come after, that’s all I can really say with confidence. If you asked me during my lifetime what my meaning was, I’d have no idea what you’re getting at. Hell, I’d probably think you’re trying to scam me.

    But I guess if I had to tell you what the living story that I now am is about from where I’m standing currently… I suppose the best I can give you is it’s a story about young love. Not some grand, world-shaking epic, just a small little adventure which ends almost as quickly as it begins.

    After all, you can’t expect kids to change the world for the better. All you can really do is cheer them on while they try and run away from it.

    𓃭 · • —– ٠ ☼ ٠ —– • · 𓃬𓃭 · • —– ٠ ☼ ٠ —– • · 𓃬

    Hey, mi querida. Is it just me… or were we just summoned in the strongest class?!

    I mean, I guess, if you mean were we just summoned as Sabers… Does anyone really buy into that ‘Saber is the strongest class’ stuff anymore to begin with…?

    Haha! Finally, some damn vindication for our talent! Heroic Spirits and Servants, the two of us, and in the best class too while we were at it!

    Right, yeah. Uh, you do remember that us being summoned implies a summoner, yeah?

    …Oh, shit, almost forget. …Ahem!

    Servant… or Servants, I guess… Saber! It’s a pleasure to meet you! My name is Eustaquia!

    And I’m Ana.

    Going forward, we swear our swords to you, Master! …That said, we reserve our right to take back said promise should you prove to be an awful person!

    …Eustaquia, that’s what the Command Spells are for. So we aren’t able to do that if it comes to that.

    Oh, right, good point…

    …Given your track record, you’ll probably end up resisting them out of pure stubbornness if it comes to that though…

    Right, hope we can get along, Master. I see some potential here… Leaving a couple of dumb teenagers to their own whims doesn’t sound like it would end well anyway, don’t you think?


    and Ana

    True Name: Eustaquia de Souza & Ana de Urinza
    Class: Saber
    Other Qualifying Classes: Assassin (“Right, this one’s when you take the lead!” “The only reason you’re a better Saber than Assassin yourself is because you’re too loud and showy to be any good at sneaking…” “Hey!”)
    Source: Historical Fact & Rumours, Historia de la Villa Imperial de Potosí
    Place of Origin: South America (17th century)
    Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
    Height: 170 cm / 5’ 7”, 157 cm / 5’2” (“You really are short… my tiny little girlfriend…” “Heh. I’m taller than King Arthur, as it turned out.” “…Wait, what?”)
    Weight: 63 kg / 139 lbs, 50 kg / 110 lbs
    Traits: Brynhild’s Beloved, Humanoid, Servant, Weak to Enuma Elish (“Eh… It’ll be fine. Eustaquia’s more than tough enough to protect us… And she’s prettier than any Valkyrie.” “H-hey! D-don’t just say things like that in front of other people!”)
    Catalyst: Two portrait paintings depicting them, commissioned by one Don Juan Itulaín shortly before their deaths

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

    Gender: Female, Female
    Likes: Each other, Adventures, weaponry, getting into fights, Adventure stories, dressing up Eustaquia
    Dislikes: Being shut away, Antonio de Souza
    Natural Enemy: Antonio de Souza
    Attribute: Man


    Eustaquia de Souza and Ana de Urinza were born in The Imperial Villa of Potosí amongst the golden age of the Spanish Empire. The city, located on top of the largest silver deposit in the world, was exceedingly wealthy at its peak, with millions of pesos worth of silver sent to the Habsburg crown every year, and even many of the poorer people of the city having much more money for themselves than the lower class throughout all of Europe.

    Of course, said great wealth came at material cost. Local indigenous Americans underwent census and ended up enslaved, dragged to the mines to undergo compulsory backbreaking and dangerous labour. The population of free Indigenous Americans who made up much of the city’s population were forcefully segregated, a law written having them live on the poorer and more underdeveloped side of the city’s canal. Additionally, as a result of corrupt officials and grievances originating overseas in Spain arriving alongside settlers, violent crime was beyond commonplace. Despite its grandiosity and the Christian values ostensibly at its core, Potosí was a city of exploitation and violence down to the foundation, a city of contradiction.

    Ana’s mother died soon after her birth, with her father dying a few years later, leaving her orphaned at the age of four. With no living relatives in Potosi, she was instead taken into the home of her neighbour Captain Antonio de Souza, a noble from Portugal, alongside his two children, Juan and Eustaquia. Antonio was a hot-tempered, traditionally-minded man, prohibiting his daughter and the other girl in his house from ever even leaving the house, with their only real exposure to the outside world being the oratory in charge of giving private church services for them, and the stories of the various servants of the household.

    Bored, directionless and stir-crazy, the two girls, looking for new experiences, secretly watched the lessons Eustaquia’s father had mandated her older brother take, learning sword and gunplay from hired instructors. Fascinated by the sport of it, the two girls watched and later stole weapons from Eustaquia’s father’s sizable collection when unsupervised, imitating what Juan had been taught to do and learning together through observation and intuition.

    By the time the girls were fourteen, more misfortune had fallen upon them, and Juan had died suddenly of illness, with Eustaquia’s mother dying a little over a year later, leaving them alone with only the patriarch of the household. With no other presences to temper his anger and strictness, it soon became clear to the girls that they might never be able to be free of the house even when they became adults. Seeing how suddenly Juan had died, only two years older than they were, a desperation overtook them, and they decided they had to leave while they still could.

    Stealing clothes and weapons while Eustaquia’s father was away one night, the two dressed up as men to disguise themselves and set out. Soon walking around, looking for a food shop, they met and befriended a young man who found himself curious about their identities, as charming strangers from out of town. Deciding to trust him, the two told him the truth of their gender, and he agreed to keep it a secret.

    As they headed back home after their trek exploring the city, Eustaquia and Ana found themselves set upon by servants of the city magistrate who were abusing their position, under the premise of running nightly patrols robbing the disadvantaged. Seeing the expensive clothing Eustaquia and Ana were in, they surrounded them, but not understanding the complications of who the men were, Eustaquia drew a pistol and shot them, killing one of them and routing the others instantly.

    Eustaquia and Ana returned home, ignorant to the uproar in the city outside over the mysterious circumstances of the servant’s death, and soon after sent a message to the young man to accompany them on another outing. Despite the youth’s misgivings after the previous experience, the two managed to wear him down through childish insults, getting him to lead them around the city again on St. John’s Eve. Despite the boy’s warnings, however, Eustaquia and Ana got into a dispute with a few locals while resting in one of the city’s plazas, which quickly escalated into violence. The two killed one of the men and chase off the others, but got injured themselves, spending the next few months in recovery.

    As soon as they had recovered, they made plans to set out again, but complacent over their previous successes, Eustaquia’s father discovered them right before they left. Enraged, he beat them and locked them in their rooms, threatening to kill them before retiring for the night.

    Coordinating with the household slave who had up until now helped to hide their actions, the two made preparations to escape Eustaquia’s father and leave him behind for good. Having a rope tied on the windowsill of the room above their own, the two escaped the house, sending a message to the young man from before to buy them two sets of men’s clothing and mules, using them to leave the city.

    The two spent the next few years exploring the cities of the surrounding region, making friends and attending bullfights, balls and other celebrations, until word eventually reached them of the death of Eustaquia’s father, and how in his last days he had willed his fortune to his daughter under the circumstances she had not married. Eustaquia, having no interest in marrying a man with Ana for companionship to begin with, returned home, making arrangements on how to distribute her father’s fortune among the city’s poor, and enter a nearby convent with Ana instead, the two having tired of their teenage adventures and instead choosing to move into adulthood, finding a place together where they could live quietly, out of view of the judgement of others.

    Unfortunately, Ana had become ill from complications after an accident over the course of the two’s adventures, and her condition worsened soon after the two returned home, and after a few months she died, barely even in her twenties. Eustaquia, stricken with grief, spent the rest of her life mourning Ana before dying of health complications not long after herself. With her death, the whole of the de Souza line had died prematurely, without an heir, leaving only their wealth behind. At Eustaquia’s arrangement, all of her family’s assets were spread among the Native Americans and poor of the city, her father’s slave which had previously helped the girls was freed and given enough pesos for both her and her son to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, and all of the men’s clothing the two girls had gathered over their travels was sent to the young man who had been the first they revealed their gender to several years ago.


    Willful and mischievous. A lovey-dovey teenage couple at heart. Both Eustaquia and Ana have a level of naivety in how they carry themselves, unused to the complications of ‘an outside world’, something which hasn’t fullyy changed even with their years spent free going on adventures. They are both rather blunt in how they go about social interaction, yet still carry an elegance in their manner all the while. Forceful personalities which sweep others along with them, making them the type to be difficult to say no to. Not necessarily spoiled, but still have unfair expectations for others around them, their Master first and foremost as the one who saw fit to summon them.

    Individually, Eustaquia has more in the way of infectious cheer and enthusiasm, seeing every day as a new potential for adventure. She of the two is the one who moreso revels in her existence as a Servant, a chance to meet remarkable people the world over who she didn’t even know existed back in her lifetime, and a chance for exciting experiences. At the same time, she is ruled by her impulses, and in particular possesses a disconcerting love of antagonizing both the strong and weak over the most minor of disagreements to try and provoke a fight, possessing a passionate love of violence concerning to see from a teenager to modern sensibilities.

    Ana initially seems a bit more restrained, acting stoic and more passive in how she carries herself. However, her quiet demeanour belies a sardonic streak. She loves teasing and mocking people, but does so in such a flat tone it is difficult to even tell that is what she is even doing for most. While she might seem to be the voice of reason between her and Eustaquia, this is more just her enjoying playfully insulting her partner with a small, barely visible smile on her face. While she is less inclined to stumble her way into fights than Eustaquia, she is just as much ready to finish them, showing a crueler streak in combat belying an inner anger. While just as willing to engage in the same boyish activities as Eustaquia at her side, Ana also possesses the more pronounced feminine side between the two, enjoying female clothing just as much as male, and preferring to be spoiled by Eustaquia over the other way around.

    While both are cheery and optimistic in how they carry themselves, they still possess some trauma over their pasts, particularly over Eustaquia’s father’s abuse. Free spirited at their core, the one thing they won’t accept over anything else is having their Servant container be treated as a cage. People who patronize them over their youth and lack of experience, and then use it as an excuse to try and tie them down are the Masters with which they possess the absolute worse compatibility. For how irreverent they behave, they both are naturally skeptical over what the relationship involves, and against Masters they clash with, particularly male ones, they will go behind said Master’s back and betray them in the worst ways possible. Anything is acceptable to them if it means being able to live freely.

    Class Skills:

    Magic Resistance C

    A moderate level of ability to negate harmful magical effects, distinctly average among Heroic Spirits. While Eustaquia and Ana lived in a world where the Age of Gods had long passed, the Imperial Villa of Potosí was at the time they lived a thriving and diverse city, with some of the many other narratives within the document which their story was recorded and spread speaking of witches and those fiercely devout enough to create miracles calling the city home as well.

    All those Toledo and Damascene swords we ‘borrowed’ certainly couldn’t have hurt, too! The weapon dealers of Peru were quick to tell you about how they were good enough to cut down even spells when they were trying to make a quick peso off of you.

    Riding B-

    Talent at controlling mounts and vehicles. At this rank, mundane animals and vehicles, even those from after the time of the Heroic Spirit in question, can be handled with above-average skill. However, Phantasmal Species are beyond the Skill’s limits.

    Eustaquia and Ana both learned how to ride on horseback over the course of their adventures, and participated in a good many bullfights beside one another. It follows that they possess a fairly high rank as a result.

    Oh, the minus modifier? Yeah, that’s my bad. I fell off a horse during a bullfight during our travels once, and I got pretty sick afterwards. That’s actually what led to my early death.

    Mi querida… can we not talk about that so… flippantly?

    What’s the big deal, Eustaquia? Sure, it was miserable, but now we’re Heroic Spirits. We get to stay young and cute forever, get summoned to all sort of crazy places to fight, and we’re never going to be apart again. I’d say we got a pretty good deal at the end of the day out of all of it.

    Well… oh… I guess I can’t argue with that! You’re totally right when I think about it that way! Hahahaha!

    Personal Skills:

    Combination B

    A Skill that displays how much one’s combat power rises while fighting alongside a specific person… of course, referring to each other. At this level, their synergy has reached a point which is almost unattainable to those who aren’t also Servants. Their ability to coordinate without even the need to look at each other or communicate in any visible way is, in essence, only really able to be understood as a form of telepathy.

    Each other’s only childhood friend. Each other’s first and last love. Closer than family. They first stood at each other’s sides when they were only four years old, and never left each other’s sides until Ana passed away. Even then, stricken by grief, Eustaquia followed her soon after, as if the two could not even continue to exist when apart. While the actual time they spent with each other ended up being only less than two decades, by virtue of their brilliant yet short lives, their relationship still holds a strength and familiarity which brings to mind an elderly couple having been happily married for over fifty years to the outside observer.

    Hm… if there’s anything I could say to give a frame of reference… right. Does the term ‘wobbling’ mean anything to you, Master?

    Wait, I don’t know what that is. Ana, what the fuck are you talking about?

    Like a Lioness C

    The self-taught stylings of two natural talents with the sword, and the unpredictability and ferocity therein reflected as a Skill.

    In its golden age, Potosí was home to many different schools of swordplay and duels were commonplace. Of course, being young girls, the two were never given proper instruction with swords or other weapons. Still, the two’s passion and natural talent pushed them to familiarize themselves with arms, mimicking what they observed in the lessons of Eustaquia’s brother Juan, and what they could intuit when the house was empty of adults and they could steal weapons from Eustaquia’s father’s collection to observe them more closely.

    Even without formal training, the two were able to keep up while outnumbered by grown men while still barely teenagers when it came to battle. This Skill, reflecting their lack of formalized, standard technique making them ‘outsider artists’ to the martial art of swordplay, gives them a level of resistance to having their movements observed and predicted mid-battle, as well as increasing their melee attack damage the closer and closer they come to death’s door.

    Pretty early on into our time out of the house, Ana got hit really badly and collapsed, and I was pretty freaked out, but… she just got up and ran down the guy who hit her and broke through his shield to slash up his hand with a single swing. It was breathtaking to watch… I think it’s burned into my memory.

    A-ah. I mean, I’m just following your lead most of the time…

    One Thousand Pesos and a Wardrobe of Men’s Clothing A

    A unique Skill denoting the gender-transgressing youthful appearances of Eustaquia and Ana, alongside the wealth of the ‘legendary age’ of the Spanish Empire which they benefitted from. In order to enjoy and escape the notice of their guardian when they left the estate to explore the outside city, the two of them took different ostentatious men’s outfits from their household and used them to disguise themselves as young men from out of town. Their appearances within these disguises struck the people they came across as both dashing and beautiful at the same time, while at the same time keeping either of them from being seen as men unless they chose to reveal their true gender first.

    This Skill lends an ostentatious sense of presence to Eustaquia and Ana in the vein of a Charisma Skill while at the same time paradoxically hiding their identities, causing them to be seen as ‘men’ and distort how they are seen by outside enemies respectively. Attempts to ascertain details regarding their True Name, Skills or even Class will be blocked as long as their gender is unclear to an enemy. They also are able to obtain benefits from Skills which normally only effect men.

    One minor facet of this Skill is that Eustaquia and Ana possess many different ensembles considered part of their Spirit Origin beyond the bounds of the Chaldean Spirit Origin Ascension system, allowing them to change outfits freely as Servants between different clothes they had in life. They can further expand their number of outfits by turning ordinary clothing into Spiritron Dresses as long as the clothes are generally understood to be considered ‘men’s clothing’.

    I claim full responsibility for this one. All of these outfits, both Eustaquia’s and mine, were put together by me when we were alive. Ever since we were kids, she didn’t have a feminine bone in her body and no sense for fashion, men’s or women’s… so getting her to agree to sit still and then getting to watch her squirm so cutely as I dressed her up was one of my few pleasures in that boring house.


    Noble Phantasm(s):

    Ready, mi querida?


    Evildoers beware… it’s time once again for the warrior maidens to hit the streets!

    Two swords in tandem, become as the jaws of the beast!

    The Adventures of the Warrior Maidens
    Guerreras Leoninas Doncellas

    Type: Anti-Unit
    Rank: B
    Range: 1-30
    Targets: 4 people

    Two girls shut away by a domineering man to live quietly. Until adulthood, neither were to be known to the world outside their walls, nor know it themselves.

    And if they were to stay alone, that is how it would have stayed. A quiet, meaningless life, to be forgotten, buried by the flow of time of the world outside.

    But instead, they were together. They read every book in the library they had before them which told them of the heroes which had inhabited and continued to inhabit the world beyond their walls. Together, they watched a brother of one practice with swords, each intently taking notes on things the other would miss. They snuck treasures which had been labeled off-limits from girls from the excessive hoard of the man, too vast to ever be used up in his lifetime, and examined, played with, and understood.

    And while neither would be willing to leave and finally, finally live as a person should on their own… they had each other. To come with a daring plan, and to execute it.

    Their Noble Phantasm is nothing less than the greatest treasure they can claim to have… each other. Neither Eustaquia de Souza or Ana de Urinza are existences which could rise to the title of Heroic Spirit alone… unlike other duo Servants, such as the Dioscuri or Anne Bonny and Mary Read, they have no feats as individuals which are meaningful enough to bring them even close to the status of ‘hero’.

    This Noble Phantasm is the answer to that, their mutual reinforcement of each other crystalized in the form of an attack. The obstacles that would prevent them from becoming Heroic Spirits, the world they were born into being against them from the start… just as Eustaquia’s support empowers Ana to meet those challenges and thrive, so to does Ana to Eustaquia.

    Upon activation of this Noble Phantasm, the spirit which fills the two is revealed to the world as a whole, two lionesses hunting under the evening sun. They draw and begin to swing their swords, each blow landed by one further rousing the other, increasing the pair’s speed and power over the course of the Noble Phantasm until even the sturdiest of foes find themselves overwhelmed.

    As the enemy is carried into the air by the flurry of attacks, the two’s synergy becomes so complete that their swords literally become one, fusing together…

    And then expanding outwards into a mass of magical energy, the blade becomes a lion made of light whose jaws rise upwards as if to devour the sun, before snapping down and swallowing the Noble Phantasm’s target whole.

    A Noble Phantasm has to look cool! Otherwise, it might as well not count.

    You better believe it!


    Momotaro (Saber) (OneEyedDuelist): “His friends turned into his weapons as a Servant? Interesting… I wonder if I could somehow turn you into a sword, Eustaquia?

    I don’t like that look you’re giving me… anyway, that does sound kind of cool, but I don’t know, aren’t humans a lot more complicated than animals, conceptually speaking?

    Innocent (Ruler) (Simplescribe): “…Yeah, we were planning to ‘retire’ to the convent towards the end there, but… that wasn’t really because we actually bought into any of it. More it was just easier to live together quietly there over anywhere else when we had no interest in keeping the house.

    It’s nice to believe there’s something better after when you’re gone. But… ‘you are evil, you are wrong, you are a sinner.’ We were willing to go through the motions, but actually buying into something like that, letting yourself believe there’s something wrong with you just because of you being born and everything that came with that, your decision or not… How’s that any different from what we went out of our way to escape?

    And… they look like prisoners, right? ‘Kids are just supposed to do what they’re told’… even if the adult telling them what to do hurt them in the past. Tch… puts a bad taste in my mouth.

    Well, at least they look happy… I guess? Hey, Ana, they’re looking at us. We can’t understand them and they can’t understand us, but they at least know what a smile is, right? So, let’s smile at them so they don’t think something’s wrong.

    …Yeah. Good point. I can do that.

    Canção de Ninar (Alter Ego) (Wyvern): “Ugh… kind of wish we had somebody like this around a few centuries earlier… being told to read the Bible so much, and not even any of the fun parts, really took the fun out of reading.

    They didn’t write nearly as good kid’s stories back then, yeah, but that just meant we had to read the stuff for adults… not the boring stuff, the narratives about knights and the like.

    Oh, and those martial arts instruction manuals too. …Actually, we probably wouldn’t have ever read those if we had actual children’s literature a few centuries early, now that I think about it, so in some sense it could be thought of as a good thing we didn’t have anything like that?

    I mean, I still want to read these stories now that I have a chance, though.

    A Mother (Assassin) (Vance): “…I don’t remember my mom at all. She died when I was way too young for that.

    Right, and mine didn’t last that long either. Taught us how death comes for you suddenly and isn’t fair in how it happens pretty early on.

    I don’t know… it’s a simple story, but the idea of a mom who actually cares about her kid that much isn’t something I can say is bad even if I can’t really relate to it.

    I can’t say I trust God with the kid though. That I can’t agree with her over.

    …Same here.

    Astyanax (Avenger) (Baron Magnus): “Geez, kid, it’s not that complicated. Nobody at Troy on either side was a saint either, if the stories are anything close to correct.

    Worrying about whether what you’re doing is ‘good’ is admirable, but sooner or later you have to come up against the lived reality of what doing ‘good’ means in such a big world.

    The two of us aren’t good people, not really. But for us, living as well as we could in a world that seemed so temporary was more important. We didn’t worry about the consequences of every little thing we did, we just picked the ‘correct’ choice based on what was put in front of us, and didn’t dwell on it. And that worked for us.

    …Wait, Ana, I just realized something. What’s his Class again?

    Oh, let me check… says here its… Aven… ger. Oh. OH. Yeah, that’s not great.

    Uh, good luck, kid!

    Jean de l’Ours (Lancer) (Vance): “Awwwwww! He’s adorable! Hey, kid, you said something about a blacksmith, right?

    Eustaquia, do NOT give him a sword.

    Dante Alighieri Lily (Stranger) (Sadist Katja): “Ugh, what a depressing goddamn mess of a worldview… A bit desperate for ‘meaning’, aren’t you?

    Yeah, we’re not really in a position for you to wring out any answers regarding your own feelings, sorry. You seem a bit more relaxed, but your older self’s takeaway would have been deeming our love ‘against nature’ and cordoning us off to like, the seventh circle or something, from what I’ve heard of him.

    And then use our existences as further evidence fueling his belief that all earthly love was inherently bad and he was a bad person for feeling it or something, probably. Cringe.

    Takenouchi no Sukune (Pretender) (Whitefrenzy): N/A, Unknown Spirit Origin

    ELIZA (Stranger) (Morg van Destro): “Okay, I can give HER a sword, at least, right? She’s pretty much begging to learn things!

    What? …Eustaquia, I didn’t tell you not to give the bear a sword on moral grounds, I’d be a hypocrite if THAT was what I got hangups over. I just thought giving the untrained, super-strong monster baby with underdeveloped motor skills and a temper a weapon when we were standing right next to him was a bad idea.

    Ohhhh… Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, ELIZA! You want to learn how to duel people?!

    Infantes (Avenger) (SimpleScribe): “More dead kids.

    …Tch. That look… they’re not like the other ones. They’re just old enough they’ve learned to feel angry over what happened to them.

    No, wait, Ana. They don’t look like they want to fight. I don’t think they’re angry at us… I think we’re making them mad at themselves.

    …Wait, you’re right. What…?

    …That damn house. I wish I could tell them about that house. About what we had to break away from to get to where we are, if where we are makes them feel that way.

    Can’t though. Even if they could understand me, I’m not that smart. I probably couldn’t figure out how to explain it properly.


    …I’m fine, mi querida. Don’t worry about it.

    Deuterium (Stranger) (Spelror): “I don’t like that disingenuous smile of yours. If you have something to say, say it.

    Tsar Bomba (Pretender): “Not a big fan of the whole, uh, ‘fighting people for fun’ thing, huh?

    We never tried to pretend we had a greater motive for anything we did, at least. All we wanted was to take that feeling of freedom as far as we could take it.

    If it means anything, even little hellions like us had our limits in life. Now though, hanging up the swords isn’t really an option for a Heroic Spirit. Sorry, can’t help you.

    The Boogeyman (Stranger) (DracoScribe): “Pfft. The man with the bag? When we were kids, something like that would have been welcome. Nothing outside the house was scarier to us than the bastard who ran the place.

    Not scary in the least! Let’s see if we can kick his ass, I kind of want that bag for myself.

    Mary Tudor Lily (Lancer) (Saron): “A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, your Majesty. If you would offer your hand, I would be more than willing to show my respect and deference for you with a kiss. ~

    That is a remarkable look of disgust on her face. …Doesn’t take away from her beauty in the least, though.

    Unfortunately for Lancer, Ana and Eustaquia, despite their Magic Resistance, are essentially fodder to her Siren Song Skill due to their preexisting tastes, when not already hostile towards her.

    Bloody Mary (Anti-Berserker): “You know, your Highness, it really is quite unfortunate. We were locked away ourselves for our whole childhoods, and had the skillset of a proper lady beaten into the two of us as well. But the difference was for us, running away and leaving my father behind to die was still an option.

    You tell yourself you are pure… but as someone who actually went outside and lived a life worth a damn, short as it was, I can say you aren’t pure at all. You’re just naïve.

    Tell you what, your Highness, since I like you, and I think Ana agrees, let the two of us do you a favour. Hold still, you screaming bitch, and let us drag you down from that ivory tower of yours to give you some fucking perspective.

    Endymion (Foreigner) (Marethyu77): “Bad things happen if he falls asleep? Oh, that’s easy to deal with. Doesn’t matter how heavy a sleeper he is, just take a pistol and-

    Ana, wait! …That’s a waste of ammo!

    Dionysus-Zagreus (Beast II-L) (ErrantGalantine): “Oh, fuck off! I love a fight, but don’t you think this is a little outside of my sphere?!

    I mean, we certainly can’t beat him, but aren’t Beasts destined to lose to humanity? Why did he take the crown? Is he stupid?

    Bond Craft Essence
    The Childhood Promise

    Eustaquia is crying, and nobody seems to care.

    She has to learn needlework, it’s what every good wife needs to know. That was what she was told. But she was so angry and tired, when she heard that again, she shouted back ‘what if I don’t want to be someone’s wife?!

    She didn’t get a real answer to that question. Only a slap from her father, and her getting dragged off to her room.

    As Eustaquia sits in the dark, not able to do anything but wish she and everyone she knew had never been born… she hears the door open. She freezes, expecting it to be her father to yell at her some more, or worse, apologize and make a promise, making her think it won’t happen again… until she sees it’s her instead.

    Her only friend.

    Ana puts a finger to her lips to gesture to be quiet as she slowly shuts the door behind her, before walking over. Proudly, she outstretches her hand and opens her fist, showing the key to the room in her hand.

    She gives the quietest laugh she can manage at her friend’s brilliance.

    Sneaking out of the room is too risky, but with Ana for company, things aren’t nearly as bad. Adults don’t listen, her brother is never around, but Ana is willing to just listen to her whisper, to cry, without complaining.

    I wish I was a boy,” Eustaquia says. “Boys don’t have to worry about becoming anyone’s wife or pricking their fingers learning to sew. And they get to go outside whenever they want.

    You don’t want to get married?” Ana asks.

    Not at all!” Eustaquia says. “I don’t want to just take care of babies all the time. You don’t get to have any time to have fun at all when you get married.

    Ana smiles, and leans in, putting her mouth up to her ear. “Can I tell you a secret?” She whispers, and Eustaquia nods.

    Ana is good at sewing, so she never gets yelled at. Her mother always tells her she’s going to a great wife to someone someday. So, she’s surprised when Ana says: “I don’t want to get married either.

    Ana. Ana, who’s always so smart, who seems like she's good at everything, who never gets yelled at, doesn’t what to get married either. That must mean it isn’t something wrong with Eustaquia.

    Ana shifts over, sitting next to Eustaquia leaning back on the bed. She raises her head up and closes her eyes, as if taking a nap. “Maybe, one day when we’re a little more grown up… we should just leave. Find somewhere with no adults to tell us what to do, where we can just have fun together without having to worry about getting married to anyone.

    That’s a great idea!” Eustaquia says excitedly, still making sure to whisper and make sure nobody comes to check on them.

    The two sit in the quiet, dark room together for a while, which doesn't feel so sad anymore now that it isn't lonely, Ana’s head resting on Eustaquia’s shoulder.

    Eustaquia thinks to herself, before a serious look appears on her face as she speaks again. “…We should make it a promise.”

    Huh?” Ana cocks her head. “A promise to do what?

    One day, we’ll leave here together and go somewhere far away. And we’ll stay there together as friends, forever.

    A promise… okay.” Ana nods, moving her hand to rest on top of Eustaquia’s. “Together, forever.

    Creator's Notes
    A bit older than I imagine most of the other entries I imagine this contest is going to produce, but teenagers are still children. Also, killing someone for the first time when you're fourteen is definitely not something most people can claim.

    Right, I've been thinking about these two on and off for a while now, and finally got my hands on the primary source. Essentially all of what we know about these two comes from Bartolomé Arzáns de Orsúa y Vela's historia de la Villa Imperial de Potosí, with me specifically drawing from what I read from the English Translation Tales of Potosí. It's a genuinely quite interesting historical account written during the latter end of the Spanish colonial era around 1700 which wasn't fully published until as late as 1965. I'd recommend it if you're willing to go through a few hurdles to hunt it down.

    The account itself doesn't specifically say these two were gay, but reading the primary text I can assure you that reading between the lines of what Arzáns actually recounts, even beyond the obvious, it's very difficult to believe otherwise. If nothing else, Arzáns writes very specifically that the two never expressed any attraction to men.

    Thanks for reading!
    Last edited by FarewellToMrA; December 22nd, 2023 at 09:04 PM. Reason: Added Relationship lines for all entries up to NARNIA

  19. #7019
    A great sheet Farewell!

    The way the two interact is very sweet

  20. #7020
    死徒(下級)Lesser Dead Apostle Baron Magnus's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2021
    Fantasia, Fantasia
    Blog Entries
    Been a while.

    Let's see what I cook.

    Zanahorias Chang

    True Name Class Region Source
    Astyanax Avenger Greece See Note 1

    Natural Enemy Other Classes

    Odysseus none Chaotic-Neutral 4'9/145


    Strength Endurance Agility
    E D D


    C X ?

    Our story begins with the fall of Troy. That climactic battle. Where heroes rose and heroes fell. Those gates that refused all manner of invasion. Until that dastardly ploy by that horse-wearing sentinel. It did not take long, after. For them to find him. The son of Prince Hektor. The child that would become an avenger for the prince of Troy.

    Yet a cruel twist of fate was played. That day Astyanax, the child of the hero Hector, was killed by the Greeks. They did allow for negotiation and diplomacy. To be assuaged that no avenging would be done... but it was in vain. They could not be sure that Astyanax would not seek vengeance. That the Greeks would not live in regret of sparing the baby. His fate was certain. The Greeks decided to kill him for their safety.

    So the baby was cast from the walls of Troy. Dying on the ground below. The Trojans were allowed to give a proper burial to the remains and mourn the loss of their prince. All the Greeks cared about was securing their safety. With it secured they left the Trojans to mourn the loss of their hero and prince.

    ... Is that how it went...?Chronicles
    No. Astyanax had barely survived. By a miracle from the gods, Astyanax held on long enough for someone to sneak away and spirit the child to safety and healing. Antenor knew however that Astyanax would not be safe in Troy and made a difficult decision. He arranged for Astyanax to be transported westward under the name Frankus.

    Frankus would be raised on tales of Trojan heroics and Grecian depravity. The stalwart defense of Hector against the barbaric might of Achilles. Trained day and night to be prepared to take revenge against the Greeks for their role in the fall of Troy. Yet this did not occur. Frankus, while angry at the Greeks for what they had done, set his eyes in a different direction than mere revenge.

    Taking after his father he instead sought to avenge his father by founding a nation that would outlast them. He sought not to slay the Greeks to the last but to make history itself forget them. So he founded a city in his uncle's name and began his reign as what would become the greatest empire on the planet rivaled only by Rome itself.

    ... At least, I believe that's what happened....Franciade
    My mistake. No that was merely a legend. No child could survive a fall from the walls of Troy, let alone a throw from a well-trained warrior. That would require divine intervention... which is what happened. A divine wind blew through and saved the baby. Delivered him perfectly to a river that flowed into the sea.

    The Greeks believed the baby was dead. That it would drown. Unknown to them, a soldier found the baby and adopted it, naming the child Frankus. This, combined with no visible wounds, allowed the child to be passed over whenever looked at. Frankus grew up as a child of a soldier and his wife, only leaving when he wanted to set out on his own. Frankus would go on to found the Merovingian dynasty which would become the Frank empire.

    ... Perhaps that is how it went...Andromache
    Right this was how it went actually. Andromache, wife of beloved prince Hector. She secreted Astyanax out of Troy, intent on Sicily. However, another intervened and captured her and Astyanax. A soldier by the name of Neoptolemus had come to marry Hermoine, the only daughter of the late King Menelaus and Helen of Troy.

    To protect her child Andromache claimed the baby was the son of another named Frankus. This lie was believed and Frankus was allowed to live in Epirus, where Neoptolemus. They were allowed to live freely in the city under one condition; they never try to leave the city. Andromache obeyed and while Frankus disobeyed he always returned and so was overlooked.

    Eventually, Orestes, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, came to Epirus to beseech Neoptolemus to hand over Andromache and her son, believing the child to be Astyanax. Neoptolemus refused initially, desiring to marry Andromache, but agreed after Hermoine showed disinterest. However unbeknownst to Neoptolemus the emissary had aims to marry Hermoine.

    To this end, he killed Neoptolemus to try and win Hermoine's affection. This incited the fury of the Furies who haunted him with visions of Astyanax razing Greece to the ground. The boy's fate after this is unknown only that Orestes went mad and Andromache attempted to flee, fearing the madness would lead Orestes to kill her and her child both.

    ... At least, that's how I remember it...Orlando
    Right, Right. I was mistaken. No, it went differently. Andromache. She was the one who orchestrated the whole thing. A bit of magecraft and hiding the baby before it was discovered. It was done in a grisly manner, hiding the baby in a coffin, but it worked. The Greeks discovered the decoy and threw it from the wall, which was blown into the river and recovered later.

    Afterward, Andromache secreted to the tombs, and through the catacombs escaped Troy. She went to a pre-arranged ship and handed Astyanax over, entrusting the prince to the crew of loyal soldiers. They named him Frankus to hide his name and set sail, vowing to one day return to avenge Hector. Their destination was Sicily.

    Frankus would go on to slay the giant king Agrigento and later marry the queen of Syracuse. He would later die when another king, Aegithus, used treacherous means to kill him but he delayed the evil king long enough to allow his pregnant wife to escape to have the son that would be ancestor to the French hero Ruggerio.

    Class Skills
    The class skill of Avengers, it allows them to gather the hatred and resentment of others and turn it into power. Astyanax is no different. He can accumulate burdens, grudges, and curses from others into himself and turn them into the resolve he needs to push on and pursue justice. Justice for himself, and justice for those wronged.

    One like him would normally have it at a high rank as he does resent his unjust death and seeks retribution... yet a single fact restrains the skill from its full potential. His heroism. He is proud of his status as the son of Prince Hector and seeks to do right by that title. As such it is unthinkable to him that he would do anything to debase it. Thus while he utilizes this skill he does not do so farther than moderately.

    Oblivion Correction
    When other servants forget, he attacks. When he forgets he is reminded of his hatred. This class skill of Avengers prevents the heroic spirit from ever truly forgetting the root cause of their hatred. Likewise, it enables them to punish others for forgetting the origins of their grudges. Astyanax, while heroic, is no different. Despite his pride in being a hero, he burns deep within the desire for justice for his unjust death as an infant. Despite his shades living on and spreading strife and fear and wealth and bounty, he is unsatisfied. His original wish for justice goes unfulfilled as far as he is concerned. For this reason, he has this skill at a high rank.

    Self-Replenishment (Mana)
    Astyanax generates a small amount of mana every second. Enough to provide for his upkeep costs, making his existence unburdensome to his master. This applies to not only himself but every shade of his. None of them cost their master additional costs outside of combat and utilizing their noble phantasms. So long as he desires justice and there are burdens in the world for him to correct, this skill will generate mana for him to use for his existence. If it was merely him, this skill would be much higher. However as it is split between four shades, it is much lower.

    Personal Skills
    Battle Continuation
    The capacity to continue even after receiving fatal injuries. This skill comes from the legend where baby Astyanax survives its doomed fate barely and recovers enough to become Frankus, progenitor of the empire of the Franks. Due to this miraculous survival, he has this skill at a high rank. His unique existence, however, that of multiple living curses, makes this skill highly unstable.

    Each shade receives the capability to ignore 90% of their injuries or at least ignore performance loss as a result of it. Losing an arm is nowhere near as severe as losing their core. However, even this, losing their core, does not stop them initially. It takes several seconds for the shade to vanish from the world. During this time, the shade still fights as though it were in peak condition.

    Protection of the Wind
    The stories of Astyanax surviving his fatal fall by divine intervention result in this skill. Jupiter, in the stories, intervenes and has wind save Astyanax from his fall and into the arms of an empathetic soldier who survived the climax of the Trojan War and brought him home. As a servant, this divine wind still protects Astyanax from the worst misfortunes. To put it more abruptly any Luck check made is tipped slightly in his favor. Only enough that any close call becomes certain. Anytime another has an overwhelming advantage against him, luck alone will not let him triumph. Only make the effort he puts in to overcome more meaningful. The only exception is when he is in a place where the wind cannot blow.

    A set of skills acquired to allow one to escape a battlefield in one piece. Astyanax, through various trials and tribulations including the climax of the Trojan War, has this skill at a high rank. Utilizing these tricks in a desperate situation gives him a better-than-not chance of escaping without sustaining further injuries. The skill 'Protection of the Wind' makes escaping very easy even in situations where it should by no means be 'easy'. Only truly impossible situations are not sure-fire escapes... merely 'probable'.

    Principles of the Great Hero
    A skill based on the Orlando poems that formed the foundation of later French heroes. The formation of the Frankish empire, the heroism of Frankus, and the passing of Durandal. It also draws a line between the great hero Hector and the great founder Karl de Grobe. Despite not being either figure he benefits greatly from the skill due to his connection to both.

    The result is a skill that is a fusion skill of 'Over the Royal Road' and 'Heroic Great Principles'.

    So long as Astyanax acts in a manner he believes would make Hector the hero proud each shade receives great bonuses. Each deed and action grants an increase to parameters. Left unchecked, he can gain an A-rank in all parameters in under a day. However, there is the reverse. For each action or deed he does that he believes would cause Hector's name shame the overall maximum this skill can increase to is lowered.

    Due to his overall goal, no parameter can exceed B++ rank as a matter of course. The problem can worsen if he or his master is too careless. Similar to 'Over the Royal Road' this skill does work off of Astyanax's psyche so he can manipulate it slightly... but there will inevitably be times when he cannot avoid doing something unheroic or causing shame to Hector's name.

    Astyanax is a hero.

    That defines the core of Astyanax's personality... at least, that's what Astyanax believes. He always acts to do right by others, including his master. He acts in a manner he believes a 'Hero of Justice' would act. He devoted himself to the cause of justice and heroism. This is not to say it is an act; Astyanax at his core knows how to be a just hero.

    However, he is an Avenger who was wronged, and deep down that has harmed him. That harm refuses to go away no matter how much he is praised and no matter how much he is celebrated as a hero. Deep down a hatred for the Greeks that murdered and humiliated his father burns. Deep down Astyanax seeks nothing more than the eradication of every Greek hero.

    As such he is always at odds with the two sides of himself. The hateful avenger who seeks the erasure of an entire people and the hero of justice who wants only to make the world a better place. The problem only becomes harsher due to his noble phantasm forming him into multiple shades. Due to these, he refuses to split into any more than three shades; fearing the result of splitting into four different versions of himself.

    Bond 0

    Hi, hi! The hero Astyanax has answered your call! I'll bring justice to your cause, sir!

    Bond 5

    Mmmm. Hmmm. Say, master, has anyone ever praised you? Well, because... you have this look in your eye, you know? Like a child wanting to be told they did well after putting in a lot of effort. Maybe I'm just seeing things...

    Bond 10

    ... Master. Hypothetically... if a hero desired revenge for a past wound and knew pursuing that revenge would cause untold destruction... is that hero evil?... Hmm. So that's your answer... thank you. I just wondered about a friend...

    Father! Are you proud, father!? I'm a hero of justice! Aren't you proud!?

    How dare you show your face here you Greek bastard! Stand and fight me, I am Astyanax and for disgracing my father after killing him, you will die!

    ... you.... You... hehe... Hahaha... KEKAHAHA! GREEK BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!!!!

    Thank you, Jupiter, for protecting me in my time of need. Protect me now as I save the weak!

    Ah! The hero of Japan! I'm honored to test my skill against you, fabled hero!

    ... What... a pure soul you are. You... you don't deserve this. There... must be a way to save you... right?

    Canção de Ninar
    ... Huh... is that- oh, sorry! You just caught me off guard is all! I am Astyanax, the hero of justice! Here to save the day!

    A Mother
    ... She is the last servant I wanted to meet... I-... no. It's no matter... I'm a hero. I have to... overcome all obstacles... no matter what it takes.

    Noble Phantasm
    Tésseris lamperés apochróseis
    The Benevolent Curse of Astyanax



    Astyanax died at Troy. This is an irrefutable fact. Yet somehow legends persisted that would later be used to write stories. Stories that were attributed to the Franks trying to tie their legacy to divinity... yet Hector was not divine. He was undoubtedly a hero, but he had no divine lineage to his name. Yet invariably there is folklore and stories that tie Astyanax to Frankus, the progenitor of the Frankish Empire. This is because of a curse laid upon Astyanax by Zeus in response to the cries of the people of Troy.

    Not an evil curse towards Astyanax, but towards those who unjustly killed Astyanax.

    Astyanax is not a specific individual. Rather when this servant is summoned the spirit core of Astyanax rests within the master. After it settles it immediately creates a container and fills it with the approximate saint graph of Astyanax. That is this sheet represents a single copy of Astyanax rather than Astyanax itself as it rests within the master. Each copy is referred to as a 'shade'.

    In addition to the first summoning, which requires no mana, more shades may be summoned. These shades do cost the equivalent of a C-rank noble phantasm and may be summoned by the original Astyanax core, the master, or a shade. When done so the new shade is equally powerful to the first shade summoned. The only degradation that occurs is in the personality of a shade. Each new shade loses more and more of the heroic core of Astyanax, save the first shade which retains the heroism of Astyanax completely.

    In essence, this noble phantasm renders Astyanax undefeatable until the master is dealt with. If they live, the master or Astyanax may simply summon more shades when they acquire enough resources.

    Durindana Spada
    Ultimate Unbroken Sword


    The sword that would one day be passed to the French hero Roland. The unbreaking sword of miracles. Yet in Astyanax's hand, it is not miraculous as the relic that gives it this power was not imbued in Astyanax's time. It is instead a sword that is exceedingly sharp and will never break no matter the pressure exerted on it.

    Because only one Durandal exists in the world, this noble phantasm is restricted. Only one shade may utilize it at a time. Other shades utilize copies that can break under the pressure of a B-rank or higher noble phantasm and cannot break past B-rank protections. However, the shade holding Durandal may switch with another shade with a mere thought; the shade will receive a Durandal copy and another shade will receive the original Durandal.

    Note 1: the Chronicle of Fredegar, Historia Regum Britannia, Orlando Innamorato, Orlando Furioso, Illustrations de Gaule et Singularites de Troie, la Franciade, Andromaque


    See what I cook next.
    Rookie Lorekeeper, Amateur Extraordinaire, and all around nasunoob.

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