If we get a special event with Liria while foraging, wouldn't that already help with our backstory?
If we get a special event with Liria while foraging, wouldn't that already help with our backstory?
Well, I want most of them. And I really don't want to ignore Senta (and the Hearld), again, but I can see what way the wind blows.
Rest action: 4. Try to remember Villarica (Special event with Liria, Maria, and Father Scherer).
Last edited by Cain12; June 23rd, 2020 at 03:07 PM. Reason: format
Hmmmm. +1 to that also because Liria and Javier feel like they had little time dedicated to them compared to Maria and Saver at the moment, and since we're just exiting the long fight against Avenger -> Lancer... A change of focus would be welcome I guess ?Originally Posted by Bird of Hermes
Rest action: 4. Try to remember Villarica (Special event with Liria, Maria, and Father Scherer).
(BGM)
The first thing she saw with her physical eyes was the vastness of the abyss. She had always been, but this was nonetheless a new beginning. After eons of being a ‘something’, all of a sudden, without any choice from its part, it became a ‘someone’. That which should have always been an ‘it’ was made abruptly into a ‘she’.
To be immaterial yet all-encompassing in one moment, and constrained and bound to flesh in the next. To be so immense yet detached, and then suddenly become…just…a person?
The transition from concept-without-consciousness to a living being-capable-of-thought meant that the newborn ‘she’ was empty. A blank canvas to be filled by the one who encased her in a tangible form.
The one that filled the depths with its existence told her that it was the god Ea, her creator. It said that she was created to be the strongest.
It told her she was mighty, but that there was one even mightier than she was.
It told her that she had to hate that person. It told her to find her, challenge her, and strike her down.
It told her that to do so would be good, for that person was a threat to the world and its gods.
She listened and accepted that, because she had nothing else. Because she was Strife, and therefore could only do precisely that.
“Um, it will be my honor to guide you to the world above.”
To her understanding, this was another god. Ereshkigal, Ruler of the Underworld, waited for her at the shores of the Primordial Waters. Well, not really. The goddess did not deem herself to appear in person. Not that she cared. She could not care, for she had only her maker and the one she is supposed to fight.
The goddess was like a cloud of noise floating around her. She does not remember anything of what the noisy one said on the way up, because she never listened to it. She only walked forward, because she had nothing else. No other direction but the one set upon for her, because she could not even recognize the possibility of other paths.
“…I see it is exactly as I feared.”
The goddess stopped, for it is as far as she could go according to the laws that even now still bind her. Of course, back then, the newborn she did not understand why things such as gods had to bear limitations.
“I look forward to what you will become.”
She did not understand. She was already a completed creation. Why would she become something else?
The goddess clearly saw some of that confusion on her face.
“You are far from complete, fawn born in the Abzu. Now, go. Fulfill your father’s request. I wish you glorious battle.”
Glory…that too, she did not understand. She knew the concept, for Glory was too one of the me, but she lacked the grasp of how anything—namely battle—could be “glorious”. After all, to her, conflict bears no attributes. It just is.
*** ***
(BGM)
A seal unravels at long last. A spell finally fades. That which was contained seeps slowly into the interstices of memory.
A meeting. An intruder. An unknown disrupting the normalcy of the child’s afternoons. The one he wanted to meet was not there, and instead a stranger stood in her place, seemingly as confused as he was.
He was a brat, acting as if he owned the place. She was…a bit scared, now that he can think of it. Nevertheless, communication was not impossible, and awkward peace achieved upon realizing they shared a common friend. This…was probably that friend’s means to make them meet each other.
However, he, too, had made arrangements of his own. A plan too long in the making. It made only sense that he would want to show off his awesome friend—a girl he liked more than a little—to his other friends from school.
Diego and María Magdalena showed up. Their father was with them.
“What is going on here?”
An adult’s voice, stern and firm like a mountain. Utterly unfeeling, devoid of kindness. A voice like a spear, killing the joy and excitement of a young child, rendering him a quiet doll that can only look at its feet. It was not merely the authority of an adult man. Even the child in his ignorance acknowledged that man as “the boss” of their little community. There is nothing quite like the feeling you have done something wrong while having absolutely no idea of exactly what it was you did.
“See? See? It’s just like I told you, Father! Javier’s hanging out with the ugly crone’s daughter!”
“Javier…you did a bad…so you’re gonna get punished now.”
The boy who always acted as if he were the boss of the playground, feeling even more untouchable in the presence of his father. The girl partly hidden behind her father’s legs, looking utterly heartbroken by the sin of her friend and classmate.
What would have been the right thing to do in that situation? A child who feels the spears of accusation yet does not know his crime. Afraid of talking back, yet convinced he has done nothing wrong. Was he supposed to remain silent?
No.
That was not a possibility.
However, the child could not have been aware of this before it became obvious. The fact that he reached that same conclusion on his own, before that critical moment, is entirely to his credit.
“Bu-but, why doesn’t she go to school like everyone else?”
The child showed empathy. The child showed concern over a situation he somewhat realized was not normal. Even if he could not properly explain it, his heart told him that her absence from school, the rags she wore, and the attitude of his peers meant something, and that this something was wrong. So, he spoke out. Even if he could not give a name to that wrongness.
However, this situation was never in the boy’s control, and his voice had never any power to direct the course of this deluge.
“What are you doing here? What makes you think you can wander as you please?”
The boy did not exist in Mister Vyhmeister’s eyes. The man of square jaw and dark hair with an unusual blood-like tint centered his intimidating attention on the unknown girl. The man looms over her and he feels for the trembling girl. He, the boy, is scared. He can only imagine how the girl feels, looked down upon by those unkind eyes.
“But, she, she’s not done anything wrong! She’s Lily’s friend! Lily told her to come here!”
How was he supposed to know that was the wrong thing to say?
How was he supposed to know that would only stoke the coals of that man’s anger?
How was he supposed to know those words would result in that man closing his strong hand around her neck and chucking her into the water?
How was he supposed to know that girl could not swim?
The boy does not remember the words spoken before and following that heart-stopping act, or perhaps he did not hear them clearly in the first place—a bunch of nonsense about “walking with death” and “protecting the bloodline”, or the likes. Perhaps there was no room in his brain for auditory processing when his eyes were full of the sight of a girl struggling and failing to keep her head out of the water. The sight of the man responsible for it, who would not move a muscle for her sake. The sight of the boy watching with a placid smile and the girl doing so with…what face was Magdalena making at that moment?
He does not remember. He only remembers her voice, calling out his name when he jumped into the water.
The memory becomes even blurrier. There was a tug from below, and suddenly he too was struggling to pull himself up and out, lungs quickly complaining at the inability to take in the necessary air. Any thoughts of helping the girl disappeared, replaced with sheer desperation as he too found himself seized by an invisible something. He might or might not have hit her a few times, and she might or might not have done the same to him. Their flailing arms and legs entangled with each other’s, sapping their energies and making their deprived bodies ache even more.
Darkness.
Fear.
Desperation.
When the sensation of his lungs of being on fire became too much, the boy surrendered, gasping out for air and of course taking in only water.
Constriction.
Agony.
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
Fire.
*** ***
Parish of Saint Aloysius de Gonzaga, Cerro Alegre, Valparaíso
Day 04
Afternoon Phase - 01
Sheer cold (-30°C/-22°F)
(BGM)
“Father, I’m going to get weird ideas if you keep staring at me like that.”
Taken by surprise by the young woman’s humorful accusation, the Jesuit priest can only try to look contrite. He is not very good at it, in all honesty.
“Ah, Miss Colhuán, my utmost apologies. It’s just…”
“I know. The arms. I do hope they go away when this whole mess is over; they’re a bit of a hard sell.”
The man, however, has the advantage of experience at keeping his emotions in check. There is no disgust in his face, just like there was never a reaction to the stench that follows her.
“I was not trained in the proper exorcism techniques; I can only apologize, for I am unable to do anything about it—”
“Nah, nah, don’t mind it; it’s what’s keeping me alive, after all.”
Three people left the church to look for food and other supplies. Oliver Drake clearly did not want to leave his wife’s side, but he has zero defenses against her dove eyes. Along with Marco Ahrens, they will sweep the houses and small stores in the vicinity—they know better than to wander too far, considering the local jeweler’s limited ability to deal with any of the many threats lurking in the frozen city.
“Oh, I am not very useful in a fight, but I am rather confident in my ability to stay away from trouble.”
It was with those words that the Caster of the Black Sun left. Aware of the possibility that the two men may not find anything useful in their small radius of exploration, Caster decided a bolder trip towards the bigger supermarket near the port—the very same one Maria already raided at one point, and the place where she first caught a glimpse of Marco Ahrens. As far as they know, that building is still standing, although there is no way it could have escaped Saver’s Enuma Eliš unscathed.
Liria cannot help but wonder if those three have just left to meet their deaths.
Fiore is busy tending to the people still bedridden—Alicia, Senta, and a reluctant Sakura—, so it was up to these two to look for supplies in the cabinets and pantries in the parish house. It will become Javier’s duty to use his overwhelming fire affinity to prepare clean water, but the supply this time is a lot more limited, because the manifestation of divine flame did a great job of melting all the ice and snow in the area and turning it into brown, earthen slush. The temperature has dropped to its already usual brutality, but there is no snowfall.
“How exactly did that happen?” asks the priest.
“Well…I don’t quite know the crazy magic lingo…”
“No need.”
“…but I was made to perform a ‘summoning ritual’ to call one of them ‘Servants’. I couldn’t tell you why this horrible demon thing showed up of all people. The Maid said a bunch of stuff about ‘compatibility’, but everything she says pisses me off so I just stopped paying attention.”
Off-duty for the moment, the two walk the narrow path to the church building proper, where Javier should be resting before he gets started with his alchemical work. Indeed, the large chamber has only the young man’s snoozing form, seated on one of the many available places.
“You know, I always had my doubts about the existence of God,” suddenly brings up the woman. “But the uncomfortable feeling beneath my skin when I stand in this room is real.”
Her eyes turn towards the central element of that and every other Catholic Church in the world.
“The utter trepidation and terror I feel at the sheer thought of touching that cross is definitely real.”
“Neither of those things prove the existence of God,” counters Ricardo. “Only that faith has a real power, from people and over people.”
“Is that something a priest should say?” Liria ponders with a raised eyebrow. The priest shrugs.
“I am a realist,” he says. “I know what I can expect from the people who come to this church. It takes a special kind of person to experience and express authentic faith.”
The words elicit a chuckle from the woman.
“…right. A special kind of person indeed—”
(BGM STOP)
And that is when a loud, single-note scream fills the hallowed chamber.
*** ***
Character Status
My eyes open along with a muted gasp held stuck in my throat by a heart that forgets to beat for a moment. However, I don’t get to think; to ponder the reason I woke up like this, because my field of sight is filled by a vision of sheer dread.
“Hey.”Spoiler:
I scream.
(BGM)
Her eyes are terrifying. Her presence is terrifying. Or maybe my heart was just not ready for this. In any case, I can just scream.
The attempt to pull myself away from the woman (?) looking down at me is stopped by a strong, shapely leg pinning me back down. She is standing on the same pew on which I am seated, but unfortunately, I am in neither condition nor mood to enjoy the feeling of a woman’s thigh rubbing my face.
“The hell!?”
Liria and Ricardo are here, as unsure of what is going on as I am. My heart is now hammering in my chest, but that is not just because of Saver.
“Calm down,” demands the Servant in the least calming voice imaginable, planting her sword right next to me. “Calm down!”
The loud, threatening words only accelerate my heartbeat further. My body flushes with inner heat as a fire within my soul stirs awake.
“That flame of yours, make it settle down before it lets loose and I have to cut it down.”
“But the church—”
“Do not even think of making such a laughable claim, woman,” interrupts Saver, forcing the rest of the words back inside Liria’s mouth. “There is not enough faith in this lifeless city to pose serious opposition to a power invoked by the land itself. The only reason this building suppressed the flame when he walked inside is because he wanted that flame to go away.”
“…I didn’t notice when you came down from the rooftop,” mutters the priest. Saver only snorts at that, as if stating she is not wasting her breath with a reply to that. Instead…
“I remember. Villarrica, that day. I remember everything.”
…I finally get to say the words I have been holding inside ever since I opened my eyes. I think I was able to calm down, and the growing heat in my chest eases down to a comfortable, pleasing warmth. Naturally, Saver looks as despondent and scary as ever, but the other two show some reaction to my words. Father Scherer shows consternation, while Liria…
…what are you doing, woman? How can you look at me with compassion, when you fared so much worse than I did that day? Goddammit, I feel like I want to cry, and my heartbeat begins to accelerate all over again—how could I not, when I remember what happened—
“I told you to calm the fuck down.”
The only reason I don’t jump on the spot is because she is still pinning me down.
“I couldn’t care less about whatever you remembered and whatever it is that’s bothering you. That’s not important right now. There is an idiot goddess out there trying to remake your world. That should be the sole target of your attention. That laughable power of yours, you should only think about how to use it to overcome this; not letting it seep out by every little thing.”
She doesn’t get it. How could she get it? These things are beneath her; the feelings of human beings are beneath her. I cannot just pretend nothing happened. Now that I remember that afternoon; what happened, what I did—
“Enough.”
I can only gasp when Saver grabs my hair and pulls my head back. She has seated on the backrest of the pew, so what I feel on the back of my head must be her crotch. I feel I will have to apologize to Maria in the near future.
“Annoying humans, what do I have to do to get you to focus on what really matters?”
“Why isn’t the church doing anything to you?” Liria spits out. “You’re a demon too, right?”
“Ridiculous. I am a fundamental concept, as old as the World and necessary for its perpetuation. Your pointlessly-capitalized god cannot do a thing about that.”
“Wait, wait, that doesn’t matter right now,” I interrupt. “Why are you out here? What happened to Maria?”
Saver does not do anything, but I can somehow feel the eye roll.
“The idiot girl needs to take a rest, and we might not have a better time than now,” says the Servant. “I wasn’t supposed to bind myself to a human in this way; I had to do it because of the interference from that goddess way too full of herself. My power is not something that should’ve ever been contained in a human vessel.”
Her harsh, inhuman eyes strike Liria.
“You should have some idea of that. Just as your demon’s nature is to corrupt and pollute things, my nature is to make things clash and unravel. I am a Divine Authority, and the only one who can wield me properly is the stupid goddess that once claimed me.”
Saver shrugs.
“This idiot girl is, unsurprisingly, not Ishtar. I cannot not harm her as long as we are bound together like this, but I cannot allow her to die before I’m done fixing this mess, so I need her to rest as much as possible.”
(BGM STOP)
The words, spoken without intent or interest, nonetheless fall like a blanket of gloom upon us. They do not carry any weight to the one speaking them, even as they render our mouths dry and our minds a blank white.
We have to say something. Somebody should say something.
“Um, guys?”
(BGM)
It is none of us three, but Fiore Forvedge, who cautiously pokes her head through the small door to the passage connecting church and parish house.
“Is everything alright?”
“We heard a scream.”
Fiore promptly turns around to look at the person behind her.
“Did you hear me when I said ‘you stay here’, Sakura?”
“Obviously I didn’t,” quickly replies the Japanese beauty as she walks past the physician. “So? Did anything happen?”
“Nah, nah, no biggie,” Saver quickly dismisses, and I feel one of her hands ruffling my hair. It is both weird and outright terrifying. “Silly warlock here had some sort of bad dream.”
To their credit, neither woman takes the words at face value. Perhaps they are just good at reading both people and the atmosphere.
“Is the girl aware of it?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?” Saver spits back at Liria. “How would she not be aware of her body falling apart?”
At last, the weight of her leg pinning me to the church pew relents, and I feel rather than see Saver back-flipping away from me with all the prowess of a professional pole dancer.
“Anyway, I get it that you’re all tired and whatever, but don’t you think you’re taking it too easy here? If you intend to go to that dinner or whatever, how do you know that won’t end in a fight? I dunno if you haven’t realized this yet, but you humans are far from winning.”
She is walking slowly back to the stairs up the bell tower.
“Let me make this clear to you: I came here to fight just one person. I’ll crush anybody else who gets in the way, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna beat every single thing out there trying to kill ya. So you better come up with a way to come out of this alive, because I’m not that kind of savior, and the girl doesn’t have enough left in her to fight every single enemy.”
A meaningless shrug.
“No human would,” she says conclusively before turning her back to us to keep walking away.
I cannot say anything. Heck, I can’t even turn to look at her departing form. The whirlpool of painful memories of the past have yet to settle and now I’m being told that Maria is going to die.
“Wait!” Sakura calls out. She looks in the verge of tears, but her voice is firm and more demanding than pleading.
Goddammit, she is strong.
“You, you’re talking about Maria, right?” correctly concludes the one who arrived left. “In…in that case, please! Let me take her place!”
The rest of us can only look between the two women, swept away by the words faster than we can react to any of them. The ideal solution would be detaching Maria from Saver, but there is no kidding anybody: we need Saver’s overwhelming power. As far as I know, she is the only one among us who can reliably beat Servants.
The thing in Maria’s body slowly turns back to look at the woman willing to become the sacrifice instead of the younger girl. She looks neither impressed nor contemptuous. She would be a complete blank were it not for her fearsome, inhuman eyes.
“Even if I could do such a thing, why would I want to?” she declares. “How would that be in any way better?”
“I’m stronger than her—”
“No, you are not.” The words are accented by a flare of golden radiance that grips our hearts into shocked stillness.
“She needed power to defeat her enemies. I needed a vessel to fight in this world. We are both getting what we wanted.”
Saver pokes herself with a thumb.
“This girl is an ignorant, untalented, overly thoughtful idiot, but she is an idiot who will not allow herself to die before she’s done her absolute best. That’s why she’s made it this far. That’s why she was willing to pay the price for Enuma Eliš. That’s why she caught a glimpse of the dance. And that’s why she might actually have a chance to win.”
The same poking hand drops to rest on her hip.
“I got myself the best possible vessel in this awful place—which isn’t saying much, but it means I’m not letting go of this.”
She makes her point by resting her hand on her generous bosom.
“I want to fight. She wants to win. That’s all there is to it.”
With that, we are left alone, with nothing but the certainty that things are much, much worse, that we ever imagined.
Choice Time
Last edited by Daneel Rush; August 8th, 2020 at 05:07 PM.
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
Beast's Lair Quest Discord Server
2
2
here is a list of my servant sheets(new and improved format for my servant sheets)
Come explore the White Library, and reach the bottom of this Abyss
Fate / White Memoria
2.
You can discussThe OG RequiemConQUEST and other Quests in Discord (disc is much more active here).
Click the image to ConQUEST
2
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
3 or 7.Geez, is as if the main heroine didn't just shove her way into the spotlight there, lets give her the second choice as well.
7 for now.
E: Changing to 3. (I'm sorry Senta and Shielder, these philistines just don't want any of your story to see the light of day. But we can maybe still save Liria and Father Scherer. ;-; )
Last edited by Cain12; July 21st, 2020 at 01:59 PM. Reason: Changing my vote.
3
Lets complete that backstory!
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
---
Beast's Lair Discord Server For Fate Quests
Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
2
Ideally I'd rather choose 1 as it might also give us a lot more details on how the land is effecting us as well, that and Liria is also getting involved making it more interesting.
But 2 is dominating with the only other choice of 3 being interesting, but something that feels like it belongs to another play-through.
I doubt we’re gonna have a second playthrough
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
---
Beast's Lair Discord Server For Fate Quests
Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
3.
"young woman’s humorful accusation"
Humorous, no?
3
You can't just dangle that vague fragment of story and then suddenly move to another topic and expect us to be content with it. I reject that notion. I forbid it. I denounce it as an evil.
True Rider
3.
3
Parish of Saint Aloysius de Gonzaga, Cerro Alegre, Valparaíso
Day 04
Afternoon Phase - 02
Sheer cold (-29°C/-20°F)
Character Status
Marco and Oliver spent about an hour or so outside. They did not find a lot, but it was better than finding nothing. They probably found more things, but the limitation of lacking the conveniences of modern technology does limit what we can use. What we have, however, should be enough for everybody to have at least a small portion.
Caster, on the other hand, has yet to return. I wish I could say that does not worry me. However, we are not in a position to start a search operation. Right now, what I can do—no, what I have to do, is help in the preparation of food and water: invoking the fire element to melt the available ice and create a persistent cooking flame; using Ekhtros to remove any organic matter in the water; rapidly boiling and then using Alambique to quickly cool down. My magecraft can render even the filthiest sludge into drinkable water. That…really is something to be proud of, me. We can wash vegetables and make frozen cooking oil usable again. Fire alchemy really is convenient in this sort of “survival”·scenario, huh.
“So, Father? Any thoughts on the unrestricted use of magecraft in the house of the Lord?”
“Please do not make fun of me, Miss Colhuán.”
Even a crooked grin looks lovely on a sufficiently charming face.
This last hour has been built on sparing moments of brief exchanges of words amidst long swathes of uncomfortable silence. The problem is that whatever topics I can think of are not that much better than the burden of knowledge Saver left with us. However, we need to think about something else, anything, or we are going to go mad wrecking out heads over the fate closing in on Maria and our pathetic inability to think of an alternative.
Liria is the first to do so. The first to surrender?
“So, you said you remember.”
And this is exactly what I mean by “not any better a topic of conversation”. The sheer memory is both dizzying and headache-inducing. It is painful. The truth is indeed painful, Lily. What am I even supposed to do about this? How can I make things better? Is there even anything left to make better?
…I’m trying to escape reality, aren’t I? Hafta face the facts, Javier. There probably is not fixing this mess.
(BGM)
“Yeah,” is my lame-ass reply. God, I sound pitiful. I force a half-hearted smile on my face when I look away from the pot on the useless stove and at Liria. “That day…I released the flame.”
“More like the flame released itself,” replies the woman. “You sure as hell didn’t ask for it. Maybe some sort of instinctual release; a desperate attempt to save your life? Hell if I know how that thing works.”
“Miss Colhuán, do I have to remind you that we are in a religious building? Please mind your language.”
“Oh, don’t waste your breath, Father; it’s not gonna happen.”
She is right, yes. The me of that time had not yet to discover magecraft or the divine flame. It does not change what actually happened, though.
My eyes naturally rest on Liria. She was the girl of that time, dressed in a one-piece that was more a rag than anything else. The differences are obvious now, but back then, she and Lily could have passed for sisters.
“So, we did know each other after all,” I say for no real reason. Liria shakes her head.
“Nah, we didn’t know each other at all,” says she says with a smile that I cannot translate for the life of me.
“…yeah, I guess you’re right.” Perhaps I am making things worse for myself, but I feel the need to ask a question. “So, you know what happened after I blacked out?”
“How would I know?” Liria denies with a surprisingly light tone for the mater in discussion. “I was drowning, and then all of a sudden I was drowning in boiling water. I probably passed out before you did.”
Ah, right. Fuck, she was right next to me. How the hell is she—
“Don’t beat yourself over it,” she says as if reading my mind. “Being in the water’s probably what kept me alive, and as you can see Lily did a damn fine job fixing me up. Anyway. I can only tell you what she told me.”
Seated by a nearby table, Liria rests her head on a monstrous black hand.
“She arrived right on time and pulled us out of the water. I guess she also stopped the flames going out of control or whatever. I remember she got some nasty burns, but she acted like it didn’t matter; you know, her usual.” A vague gesture with her free hand. “And I think you know by now that she did something to you, to block out those memories.”
“…yeah.”
“I have no idea what she did to keep the Vyhmeisters from going after you or your family. For all I know she got your parents to move out of Villarrica as well. I have no idea. Maybe you know something, Father?”
Ricardo also has a difficult face. He is obviously troubled, but then again so am I. However, I know him well enough to know this is something beyond his usual empathy as a sickeningly good person.
“To be honest, my colleague’s report on Villarrica was very sparse. It vaguely described a ‘workshop accident’, but I take it nothing of the sort happened, right?”
“I’d bet my ass Lily was behind that,” a smirking Lily proposes. “Keeping the truth from the Church. She was intent on protecting Javier, you know.”
“…right,” mutters the priest with a heavy voice. “So, as I thought, the real cause of Alfons Vyhmeister’s death was…”
…yeah.
It is true that I passed out at one point, and it is also true that I was underwater, but that I remember clearly: the hand that pulled me out of the water, and how that hand was engulfed by flames, along with the body attached to it. Just thinking about it sends shivers throughout my body and makes my breathing accelerate. Maybe, if I try to hard enough, I might remember the screams—
“Javier!”
I jump on the spot, brought back to reality by Liria’s loud call.
“It’s boiling,” she says, pointing at the pot. Indeed, it is boiling, and I notice the growing heat in my body, quickly forcing it to settle down.
“Ah, um, right. S-sorry about that,” I stammer. “I, I guess we should get Fiore for the next part.”
It is not just food—Alicia Drake is still suffering from dehydration and it is too early for her to return to a solid diet; she needs an electrolyte solution instead. Well, most of us were close to dehydration today, too, and even Father Scherer is having a hard time despite staying inside the church this whole time. Apparently, Magda visited and brought him supplies these past few days, but she is no longer doing that. It is not hard to figure out why; I guess those guys are not very happy with me. No, that is putting it lightly, isn’t it? No wonder Diego has been attacking me this whole time; the guy probably wants me dead, and I guess I really can’t blame him—
“Javier!”
Again, I am startled back to reality by Liria Colhuán. Her eyes say that she is reading me like an open book, to a degree that is almost humiliating.
“You’re forgetting the most important thing.”
What is that supposed to mean? I—a man died because of me.
“On that day, you saved two people.”
…what? No, that’s not—
“Lily was under The Maid’s control, remember? But, your flame managed to destroy the spell that bound Lily to her summoner. You set her free, Javier.”
“Wha…wait, what? The flame can do that?”
Liria shrugs.
“Lily said your flame is ‘the judgement of the World, and therefore something that opposes and erodes all things of mankind, magecraft included’. Don’t ask more from me; I know shit about the stuff.”
I glance at my hands, still warm from the magical labor I have been performing for a while now. Back then I was not commanding the flame; it was the divine flame that released itself unrestrained and unrestricted. Like Liria said, perhaps in desperation to preserve the life of its vessel. However, a flame that can destroy magecraft…wouldn’t that be super-useful?
“I believe you said ‘two people’ were saved, Miss Colhuán,” interjects the priest, and Liria quickly pouts and makes a face that is more cute than angry. Her insect wings flap so rapidly I fear she is going to shot upwards until she crashes with the ceiling.
“A-Are you trying to make me embarrass myself? I’ll cry sexual harassment, Father.”
“…you are not a very nice person, Miss Colhuán.”
“The streets are not nice, Father.”
A tired smile from Ricardo.
“Do not treat me as if I am a naïve young lad, Miss.”
The girl just shrugs.
“It’s…it’s not important anymore.”
(BGM)
“More importantly, you should know more about those shitty siblings than us, Father. Come on, you just pretty much admitted the church has a file on Villarrica, and with good reason if I may say so.”
Father Ricardo seems to ponder on that for a moment. Rather than being put on the spot, he looks a little reluctant?
“Before I say anything, please allow me to confirm one thing, Miss Colhuán. This ‘Lily’ you keep mentioning…was she the so-called ‘Witch of Villarrica’?”
“Yeah,” admits Liria. “She was The Maid’s puppet at the time, though.”
Two minutes or so later, we three are seated around the kitchen’s table with glasses of water in front of us. Fiore has taken my place, now hard at work preparing the solution. Apparently Senta walked off somewhere with the Herald and Fiore knew better than to try to stop her, but she successfully guilt-tripped Sakura into looking after the Drakes instead of going after Maria.
“What we know is that the ‘Witch of Villarrica’ helped the mage families of the community in some sort of project,” begins the priest, and it already sounds completely insane. “My own knowledge of the heretical arts is close to none, so I could not explain the details even if I knew them. I barely managed to make any sense of the report I got from my colleague some weeks ago, when I learned of the destruction of the community.”
…what.
“What…what did you say?”
Ricardo blinks, as if coming to terms with my lack of knowledge.
“Ah…right. It seems there was some great conflict in the community. The only thing we know is that all the Villarrica magi and their direct relatives are dead. With two exceptions.”
Fuck.
“You think, Diego and Magda—?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Ricardo shots a pointed glance at Liria.
“They are indeed the primary suspects, but we do not know what really happened.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Tell us what those freaks are already.”
The priest has always been a patient man, so Liria’s attitude does not even leave a scratch on his mental fortitude.
“My colleague managed to recover some research notes from the ruins of the Vyhmeister mansion. From those, we learned that the ‘Witch of Villarrica’ performed ‘spiritual surgery’ on the children of the community’s magical families while still in their mothers’ wombs. She implanted things in their magic circuits, like parts of magical beasts, or objects bearing great mystery.”
“Hnn. Makes sense,” muses Fiore with her back to us. “The technique must be different, however, otherwise every single mage family would be riddled with pseudo-Javiers.”
Somehow it feels like she is sharing an inside joke only she understands. And what the hell is a pseudo-Javier?
“No need to ponder where they got those things,” Liria says more to herself than to us guys. “It’s that Maid we’re talking about; no point in trying to figure out how she does half the bullshit she does.”
So what I’m getting her is that Diego has cherufe powers because he has a piece of an actual cherufe inside him? And Magda’s probably the person who was following me and Saver back then at the promenade, so what she has in her body is gotta be…
“…Kupem Ekull.”
“What?”
“Ah, no,” I utter quickly. “Just thinking to myself.”
I sigh. Rather than whatever powers they have, or how they got them, what matters is what they intend to do with them.
“What I do not understand is Javier’s situation,” interjects Ricardo. “Everything we learned implied that his family was not involved in the community’s project.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the irony of it,” replies Liria with clear humor in her tone. “All those idiot brats were having the time of their lives playing ‘hide the big magical secret’ from the sole ‘mundane’ child. Turns out Javier here is the authentic thing and those morons the cheap imitations.”
…that’s right, isn’t it? What Diego and Magda have is nothing but an artificial, manmade version of the power I have. However, we are not any different aside from that. Neither of us had a choice in it…although it seems neither of us particularly minds.
“Well, there’s no need to worry,” declares Liria before frowning at her own words. “Okay, so there is need to worry, just not about those two.”
Her red eyes settle on me. That’s right, her eyes were not red back then. So that must be another change due to becoming a Servant.
“Javier, you’ve got other stuff to worry about, starting with making sure that flame doesn’t destroy you. If those siblings pop up to mess around, just leave them to me. I gotta have a nice, long talk with those guys at some point, anyway.”
Somehow, I am not satisfied with that plan. Maybe it is my pride talking, but those two are probably here for me, so it should be up to me to settle things with them. Maybe I am just a little bit wary of how Liria intends to deal with them. The only thing that is clear is that I have to face up to what happened on that day, and that I will meet Diego and María Magdalena again before this whole chaos is over, for sure.
Diego was never a patient guy, after all.
*** ***
Parish of Saint Aloysius de Gonzaga (Rooftop)
(BGM)
“Uwaah…it’s fucking cold everywhere, but coming outside really makes a difference, huh. It’s not all bad, though.”
Senta stretches muscles not accustomed to staying still on a bed for extended periods, wincing at the aches that do not match the exertion on her muscles. Standing atop the parish’s rooftop, flanked by the building’s two narrow towers, she is showered by the glacial breeze flowing free throughout the frozen city of hills. The Servant she never truly aimed for but ended up scoring nonetheless, Shielder, stands some steps behind her, unbothered by the cold. There is worry on her heavily scarred face.
“Senta, are you really alright?”
“No, I’m not really alright,” admits the bespectacled girl. It is not that her glasses are almighty and have endured throughout this mess. “Mother healed my wounds both external and internal, and even fixed my glasses, but she did nothing about my circuits.”
It is not simple overuse of her circuits—it takes a lot to overload the sheer amount she has at her disposal. Caster wrote a “story” about her, thus expanding her repertoire of abilities. The problem was overusing magecraft she was not used to. Children of mage families spend years getting used to the mental and physical exertion involved in spellcasting, first for basic applications of magical energy, later for the family arts. Senta familiarized herself with an entirely new form of magecraft in a baptism by fire, fighting for her life against her monstrously strong eldest sister.
“But we can’t just rest and relax forever. For all we know someone is making a move while we stand here doing nothing. More like, how are you doing?”
“Um, I’m fine!” the Herald responds lively. “My wounds are healed, and I’m getting magical energy from you. I just wish I had some meat…”
“Heh, that’s right, you do deserve that. Let’s see if I can do something about that when we get back down. Now I need you to use that nose of yours.”
“Um.”
Walking past Senta, the Herald stands by the edge and sniffs the air for a while. In the meantime, Senta spares a glance at the seemingly sleeping form of Maria Westinghouse, resting still some footsteps away.
“Servants sure have it nice, huh. So, got something, puppy?”
“Muu, I’m not a puppy. But, there’s only the ugly scent of the dead. Only a few are walking around, though.”
“Yeah, seems like Berserker and his troops got most of Assassin’s familiars. I guess she hasn’t yet replenished their numbers.”
“Are you going to…?”
“Nah, unlike Assassin, I need to touch the corpses to animate them, and I don’t feel ready to go out there just yet. Besides,” she adds, ruffling the Servant’s hair for good measure. “You don’t like it, right? The way I use the dead.”
The Herald looks guiltily at her Master, and does not deny it.
“I mean, I’ll use them if I have no choice, but right now I can rely in my Servant who’s stronger than a million zombies. Right?”
“Right!”
Senta cannot keep a small smile off her face at the hound’s cheer.
“So, you only smell the dead…?” ponders Senta, now standing next to her Servant.
“Um, no, there’re a few others around, but…”
“Yeah, I get it. Must be hard to pinpoint individuals among all the dead and over such a large area.”
“Hmm,” murmurs the hound in assent. “There is the one who smells of scales and brimstone over on that hill,” she points out, her finger towards the west, in the direction of the Yugoslavian Promenade. “I can’t smell Caster, but there is a strong, ancient scent over by the sea. I think there are others there, but that one scent is too strong.”
(BGM)
“An ancient scent…?”
“Um. A scent of mountains and forests, of gold and…snakes? A very old scent, but…I don’t think it’s a Servant.”
Senta frowns at the surprisingly detailed, yet unreadable description.
“…huh. Beats me. What about actual Servants, then?”
“Nuh-uh. Nothing.”
Senta clicks her tongue.
“That probably means they’re underground. I guess that’s good, for now. How about them monsters? You killed big bull guy, and that Assassin girl said she got ugly dog guy, while Javier beat scorpion guy. What about flying lion guy?”
Garmr shakes her head.
“Can’t find him. I think there’s only the big serpent beneath the ice; not that I can smell it from here.”
“Those things…Caster said they’re Tiamat’s children. The only person who could summon those things aside from Tiamat herself…it’s totally gotta be Marduk, right?”
The Herald shrugs, for thinking and speculating are not her things.
“Does that mean Marduk is the body-snatcher? It kinda makes more sense than Javier’s bullshit about two Isoldes, but at the same time, an incorporeal, body-stealing spirit is not quite my idea of the head of a pantheon. Then it’s probably…ugh, but to pull that kind of shit on a Servant, even one without Magic Resistance…you’d need a whole ritual. It’s not something one can do nilly-willy.”
Groaning, Senta takes off her hat to scratch her head.
“Agh, come on, Senta, think! You’re supposed to be the smart one!”
“Hey. Nazi girl.”
Senta almost slips off the rooftop in her surprise. Naturally, the new voice comes from the only other person on the rooftop.
“You’re too noisy,” complains Maria Westinghouse, very much looking like one not pleased by being pulled out of a pleasant sleep.
Senta is about to repeat her earlier complains about Maria’s means of addressing her, but suddenly stops and just stares. It is as if looking at Maria sets a missing cog in place and gets her mental machine to work, creating interpretations and filling gaps in her knowledge with ideas that make more and more sense by the second.
“…what’cha looking at,” mumbles Maria, still more asleep than awake.
“…fuck. That’d be fucking stupid,” Senta murmurs to herself, commenting on the conclusion her mind has reached.
“…whatever,” then concludes Maria, letting the upper half of her body fall back down, apparently intent in going back to sleep. Senta is left still staring at the blonde girl, her mind apparently satisfied with the results of its efforts, and thus leaving her to focus on the girl itself—likely the only person with the power to overcome her Mother.
With a sigh, Senta approaches the prone girl, all the while pondering…
“So you were sleeping…heh, it would’ve been so easy. Not that I have a reason to kill you, anyway.”
Maria opens a single glaring eye.
“Good to know you’re not completely stupid, then.”
(BGM)
“Hey, it’s a simple cost-benefit analysis,” retorts Senta, plopping herself right next to Maria, to her surprise. “I gain absolutely nothing by killing you.”
“You could go back to your Nazi friends and tell them you’ve gotten rid of their only real obstacle.”
Senta snorts.
“Now you’re the one who’s being completely stupid. You think the Fourth Reich is so nice a place that they’d welcome me back with open arms just because I killed you? I feel ridiculous just saying it.”
The dark-haired beauty shakes her head, her sardonic smile gaining a tinge of gloom.
“There are no ‘friends’ down there,” she declares.
Maria says nothing to that. The Herald settles down next to Senta and then gazes at the city of hills, perhaps wondering just what her Master is looking at. The American blonde sighs upon realizing that her sleep time is over, and pulls herself back up, resulting in three women—well, one of them is a giant Hel hound in the shape of a woman—sitting side by side atop a church.
“So? What’s you deal?”
Senta raises an eyebrow at the question.
“What’s my deal?”
“Yeah. Your deal. Like, I’ve seen you around Javier, but I still have no idea why you’re around.”
“Ah, that.” Senta chuckles. “Long story short, Javier beat my Dutchman like nobody’s business, so I became a whatchamacallit…a POW, yes. And, well, the Fourth Reich doesn’t really recognize POWs, so yeah. I guess Hilde’s just glad to finally have an excuse to kill me.”
Another snort.
“Not that I’d go back if I could. I mean, I guess having a lab for myself was cool and all, but it’s not like I’m super into my necromancy.” Her voice and gestures match her dismissive words. “It’s just…the stuff I do. The stuff I was made to do.”
A strange floodgate appears to have been opened. Senta does not stop speaking.
“It’s just weird, you know? I’m an artificial human, so I wasn’t made to last. I think my estimated operational time is about five years, give or take. And I was expected to fight and die for the Fourth Reich, so I didn’t plan to make it to three. So, like, I didn’t really think too hard, like, about life and stuff. I would spend my days doing as I was told, and then I’d die, and that would be it.”
The Herald whines and pushes herself closer to its Master, yet withholds its thoughts on Senta’s words on life and death.
“But, like, think about it from a logistic standpoint. My existence does not make any sense. If I was created as a military asset for the Fourth Reich, then I can only say I was a mistake. With the resources spent on making me and the others, Mother could have made a fucktillion more soldiers and mystic code armaments. If Mother simply wanted a dedicated necromancer, she did not need to give me this degree of self-awareness and independence. She did not need to make me into someone capable of having these thoughts. And why would she need a dedicated necromancer in the first place? She probably can do anything I do, and better.”
Senta finally turns her face to look at an unusually inexpressive Maria.
“So now I don’t want to die, because I’m curious. I wanna know for what purpose I was really made. I want to go to that dinner or whatever tonight, even if it gets me killed, as long as I get to ask her that question.”
Senta then grins, and it looks as wicked as ever.
“And I guess I want to see what happens to Javier.”
Maria blinks at that, unsure as to whether to feel wary or just plain disturbed.
“Javier?”
“Yeah! Like, the guy’s a total wreck, you know? I just gotta see whether he’ll pull off something amazing or just straight crash and burn.”
“Uhh…” Maria is smart enough to realize it would be a waste of time to call out Senta’s morbid sense of humor.
“Now, let me throw that question back at you. What is your deal, blondie?”
“What?”
“Come on, don’t take me for a fool; I can tell you’re not just some random mage who happened to be around when the world fucking froze. And it’s obvious you have some sort of personal beef with the Nazis; I see it every time you fucking look at me.”
The call-out to Maria’s attitude comes from a completely calm, even outgoing voice. Senta has no resentment, nor ill will at that moment. She is just a girl, curious about the circumstances of another girl.
“So? What’s your deal?”
Maria does not move or say anything for a while, looking at Senta but not really. The latter shows patience, meeting Maria with her standard crooked grin. The silence ends when Maria sighs and takes over Senta’s role gazing at the hills of Valparaíso.
“It doesn’t matter. The Nazis are gone, and those guys you call the ‘Fourth Reich’ are a joke at best.”
Senta purses her lips, and for moment considers speaking her mind, but quickly chooses otherwise, concluding that it would be unwise to send this girl on yet another crusade. Maria Westinghouse, and everybody inside the church, need to focus on the matters immediately at hand.
“Well, then what does matter?” she inquires instead. “Something’s obviously eating you.”
“Why do you even care?” retorts Maria with a side-glance. Senta rolls her eyes.
“…and here I was being nice and offering you a cue to vent for a little bit,” she says while shaking her head. “Let me tell you a little something, blondie. These glasses, they’re actually a mystic code,” she reveals while poking them from the side. “Well, the frame is; the lenses are ordinary and break all the fucking time. Anyway, I pour some magical energy into it and get a complete Structural Analysis. Mother made it for me, so you know it’s stupid good.”
Really, no matter what she says or does, she has a natural talent at sounding like she is up to no good.
“You know what I’m getting at, right? I know what’s going on. You’re wrecking yourself, girl, in body and soul."
(BGM STOP)
"It’s because you don’t really have a ‘contract’ as any mage would understand it, right? It’s something closer to ‘partial possession’. The Servant’s core has implanted itself in you, but that Servant, whoever it is, is way greater than you, so instead of resting in your soul, it is encasing it, and burrowing its roots deep inside it.”
It is all a metaphorical description, of course. Neither souls nor Saint Graphs have “roots” in the way plants do.
“It’s not as if the Servant wants to do it; it is merely trying to accommodate itself in its current vessel, even if it’s impossible. And it’s not as if the process will end with the Servant taking control of your body. It will just destroy you. Honestly, I dunno who’s in the bigger mess: you or Javier.”
She actually takes a moment to ponder.
“Um, nah, probably you. I mean, you’re the one who doesn’t have a choice—!”
Several things happen at the same time.
(BGM)
Maria jumps to her knees, grabbing Senta by the collar of her shirt.
The Herald jumps to her feet a fraction of a second slower.
Senta’s right hand shots to the right, blocking her Servant’s line of sight—a wordless command to stop what it intends to do.
“So what the fuck do you want me to say!?” Maria all but roars to Senta’s face. “What the fuck do you want me to say!?”
Senta does not react to the other girl’s bloodshot eyes.
“I can’t renege on my deal with Saver, even if I wanted to! I can only win with Saver’s power! Even if it’s scary! Even if it feels so right and natural to use that power! Even if every single time I let go, I feel like there is less and less left of me afterwards! I can’t stop! I won’t stop!”
Maria pulls Senta close, until their noses almost touch. However, Maria is no longer looking at Senta; her eyes so tightly squeezed shut that it certainly must hurt.
“I was prepared for this the moment I accepted Saver—!”
Senta’s right hand grabs Maria’s wrist, and the latter’s eyes shoot wide open in surprise. Maria can always overpower her, but at that moment, she is just taken aback by the other’s gesture.
The voice of the artificial girl comes out slowly, yet firm. It is too far from consolation; it is a challenge.
“…do you actually believe you can fool anybody with that bullshit?”
*** ***
Warning!
This is a Locked Save Point.
If your quest reaches a Dead End, it will resume from this point.
*** ***
Choice Time
Last edited by Daneel Rush; August 8th, 2020 at 05:07 PM.
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
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Oh boy, another kaiju.“Um. A scent of mountains and forests, of gold and…snakes? A very old scent, but…I don’t think it’s a Servant.”
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A wise and beautiful woman who exudes an aura of grace. She is a sly, cunning, manipulative person who always gets what she wants, whether through trickery or ruthlessness. Her own fighting abilities are low, but she should not be trifled with. What does she ride? Men, of course!
