[FF] Grail Works, Ltd.: Fate/Anarchy (Type-Moon/Scion crossover)

[Arbitrarity]

Oh wow. I forgot Erik was actually directly responsible for the Titans getting out. It was mentioned in the first part of the prologue with him, but it didn't really directly sink in, I guess.

AGGGGHHHH LEWD NUN. I don't know if this is timeline-merged lewd nun a la SE.RA.PH event yet, but if not, we're going to get a Kaleidostick in her hands somehow, and this is going to be even more of a snafu. If SO, we're already in trouble.

I'm unsurprised that alcohol doesn't come in Semiramis's usual purview, since the definition of "poison" can be a bit ambiguous. If she took Paracelsus's word for it, everything is a poison, for example.

And that is a yikes for Jack powers. I guess we might get the Jeanne showdown again, though it's less important without Atalante.

Now THAT is an interesting tie-in with the Works origin story. More time loops!

Erik is probably underestimating Legend of Dracula, though vampire spawn are minions, of a sort.

AGHHH LEWD NUN

[RanmaBushiko]

Oh wow. I forgot Erik was actually directly responsible for the Titans getting out. It was mentioned in the first part of the prologue with him, but it didn't really directly sink in, I guess.

Yup. Once they realized that he was directly responsible, as well as his little merry band of misfits, Erik took the blame for the Fenris Wolf being freed. Technically, all of them helped, but he took it on himself, since he was the one with the ability to leave the planet.

AGGGGHHHH LEWD NUN. I don't know if this is timeline-merged lewd nun a la SE.RA.PH event yet, but if not, we're going to get a Kaleidostick in her hands somehow, and this is going to be even more of a snafu. If SO, we're already in trouble.

THIS right here? THIS IS WHAT I WAS WAITING FOR! No timeline-merged lewd nun, thankfully. But this beautiful response is what I was waiting for.

I'm unsurprised that alcohol doesn't come in Semiramis's usual purview, since the definition of "poison" can be a bit ambiguous. If she took Paracelsus's word for it, everything is a poison, for example.

It could be. But if so, she hasn't found out yet. Technically, she used it to poison someone, by mixing some into a drink. So technically, it could work well for her.

And that is a yikes for Jack powers. I guess we might get the Jeanne showdown again, though it's less important without Atalante.

Yeah. Jack's got some decent bullshit, as you'll see from my next chapter.

Now THAT is an interesting tie-in with the Works origin story. More time loops!

Oh, definitely.

Erik is probably underestimating Legend of Dracula, though vampire spawn are minions, of a sort.

Yes. Yes he very much is. And with everything else on top of it, he's too busy trying to find Jack to realize how bad Legend of Dracula could be...

AGHHH LEWD NUN

Trust me, I burst out laughing at your reaction to her. I'm still laughing, minutes later, too.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and TYPE-MOON, along with whomever they’ve happened to license them to, such as Geneon, Funimation, A-1 Pictures and Netflix.
This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.







Battleship Wolfen
Outside Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004









XX grumbled under her breath as she wandered through the great battleship’s corridors. While it wasn’t quite a match for the one she’d trained in, the overall design was similar enough that she generally knew where she was going. And in this case, after having had a shower and a quick bite, she wanted to check in on her Master before going to bed.

Still, the escape of the enemy irritated her. One wouldn’t think the Hanging Gardens could have the speed to outpace her Holy Armour; and under close-quarters conditions, they definitely didn’t. But the fact of the matter was that her Cosmoreactor, powerful as it was, didn’t have the kind of sustained output that could propel her armour at combat speeds over the kind of range that the Gardens were capable of, not for any significant length of time.

She had a spaceship of her own for a reason, after all . . .

As she approached her Master’s room, she heard voices—

“Look, you’ve been up all night, and Chiron’s still active, you need rest—”

“So do you!”

“Look, I’ve had—”

“Unconsciousness doesn’t COUNT!”

Part of XX wanted to chuckle at the comeback, but the rest of her was too busy wincing. She’d been afraid that Twinmyniad Disaster might be a bit too much for her (comparatively) weakened Master to handle—but once she’d started, gotten a taste of that familiar prana washing through her . . .

She’d lost herself to it, as she often did; “night’s enchantment,” she thought the effect was called, or something of the kind. She hadn’t been paying attention the first time around, and given her Master’s current state, he might not even know it himself. Perhaps it had no proper name—it was simply the feeling of moonlight glowing on her skin, bathing everything around her in a silvery glow that made it . . . Mysterious, wondrous—beautiful.

It wasn’t a drug in the traditional sense, but his prana was intoxicating, to some degree—and she’d dipped deeper into it than she’d meant to, forgetting in her euphoria that the pool was shallower than before . . .

“. . .” The pause indicated that even her Master was taken aback; a rarity in itself. He almost always had a response, even when he didn’t have an answer—

“ . . . I’ve also had more experiencing running tired than you have, Fiore—”

Like that, for example—and wasn’t that the truth?

“And it’s not like we’re doing much,” he argued. “The kid wants to go grocery shopping, and she’s already taking the most defensively-oriented Servant there is with her, along with a Mystic Code capable of ludicrous prana output, for protection—I’m just going along to be an extra set of hands to carry the bags . . .

“And translate,” he added, after a beat. “I don’t think it’s occurred to anybody yet that she’s not liable to understand Romanian, spoken or written. And I’m a hell of a lot more subtle than whatever Erik would send along; unless you want every supernatural agency on the planet tracking us down for violating the secrecy rules, because of the army of robots flying around behind her . . .?”

XX had to make an effort, but managed not to snort. As much as she loved her mentor, and ascribed to his philosophies herself, she had to admit the truth: he was a very strange God of Paranoia. His strategies regarding such a thing seemed to boil down to “Intimidate the enemy into backing off, and have contingencies in place for when they don’t heed the warning.”

Whereas her Master’s approach was, “At least look like you know everything, always have at least one backup plan, and make them work for everything they learn about you—so that ideally, you always have at least one trick they’ll never see coming . . .”

And while her Master lacked her teacher’s charisma, he had been convincing enough to persuade her to attempt using Presence Concealment . . . And after that, she no longer regretted the blow to his privates as much—because she hated that he’d been right about how much easier it became to do her job . . .

Still, the translation issue was a good point, and not one she’d have thought of; then again, the “worrying over details” stuff always was her Master’s thing more than hers. It was also annoying, but equally invaluable when it came to shooting her TV show—the praise they’d gotten over the “dramatic” set designs, fight choreography and cinematography had kept them very high in the ratings.

Regardless, if the safety of her Master was a concern, then the answer was, of course, obvious.

Summoning Avalon once more (ally or not, presumed future or otherwise, the other person in the room was ultimately aligned to the Black Faction at this point in time—why give away more to her than XX had to, right now?), the Servant entered the room.

“I am perfectly capable of providing security, Master.”








Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004








Mash (being in civilian garb, she didn’t presently think of herself as “Shielder”) watched over the Dir—er, her Master, she meant “her Master”—carefully, eyes peeled for threats. And as such, those eyes strayed more than once to the sole male of their party. He was a Master of Red, true, and XX’s Master, so she wasn’t especially wary of him, except . . .

Well, he was XX’s Master.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Foreigner who insisted she was a Saber; on the contrary, like most non-Alter Artoria-types, she was quite a nice person, and being one of the more outgoing Artoria-types, XX could be quite cheerful and pleasant to be around, as well.

(True, Sempai had managed to coax this trait out of more than one Alter Artoria, as well—but that was Sempai, and she had to mostly take Artorias as she found them.)

. . . However, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that while all Servants were “eccentric” to one degree or another (terms like “normal” and “average” were hardly easy to associate with legendary beings, after all) XX was one of the more—Mash hesitated over the proper term—“outside-the-box” types.

(Granted, the former Demi-Servant admitted, compared to some of her Universe’s inhabitants, XX was very nearly the poster girl for sanity—but that still wasn’t saying much . . .)

Regardless, according to her old Chaldean comrade, they’d been contracted via a compatibility summon, with no catalyst involved—which, given what she knew of the other Servant, Mash found mildly concerning. Then XX had revealed that her Master was her Master: her first Master, that mysterious, legendary being that apparently displaced Sempai to XX’s number-two spot—Sempai, of all people!—and Mash became very concerned.

. . . It had nothing to do with the fact that this person had caused XX (well, Mysterious Heroine X, at the time) to tell her sempai that he ought to be impressed that she was granting him the courtesy of a title she’d “until now only ever granted to one person in any universe.” Sempai, who’d already done so much before they’d ever met her—and would go on to do so much more . . .

. . . All right, maybe it had a little to do with it, Mash admitted to herself. But there was a more important (and dangerous) aspect to this person: he had managed to teach Artoria Pendragon—who was, in almost any incarnation, the most straitlaced and straightforward person Mash had ever met—to be an Assassin.

(And an Assassin that actually acted like one, at that; which was not as standard as most people would think—but then again, most people had never met the sheer number of Servants that Mash had, in her lifetime.)

No, it was a certainty that anyone who could do that was a force to be reckoned with; an entity whose inherent dangerousness could put them on par with a Servant; Mash was determined to—

“Covrigi, ladies?” offered a cheerful voice, startling her out of her thoughts, even as her Master made pleased sounds.

From what Mash could tell, they were similar to “soft pretzels”; not the sort of Japanese snacks she’d had at Chaldea, but several TV shows and movies she’d seen with Doctor Roman and Sempai had portrayed them. Certainly, the Dir—her Master seemed to like the taste . . .

“Not breakfast fare, I know,” the magus said apologetically, “but believe me, it’s wiser not to shop for food on an empty stomach. And these are light enough, I hope, not to be too filling, either.”

XX nodded enthusiastically, holding one even as another was stuffed in her mouth. She also had the sort of self-satisfied expression Mash had seen on her before. And also on Nero, or anyone else with Artoria’s face when they felt that sage wisdom had been uttered (usually by themselves). Honestly, Mash half-expected to hear an “Indeed!”—or maybe an “Umu!” depending on the scope of the Grail’s translation effect—uttered after XX swallowed.

Instead, however, she said, “I know exactly what you mean, Master—when you get to the grocery store, and it all just smells so good . . .” Her eyes took on a haunted expression as she whimpered pitifully, “I’ve needed so much overtime . . .”

Olga Marie Animusphere giggled at the blonde Servant’s mournful tone (or perhaps, her hangdog expression) and the sound was still so new and startling to her that Mash nearly flinched. It had to be said, in fairness, that she could claim to be accustomed to the strange and unexpected if anyone could—but dealing with the strict and imperious young woman that she remembered, as a bright, cheerful, and giggly child . . .

Really, you’d think that after Jeanne d’Arc Alter Santa Lily, I wouldn’t be this surprised, but . . .!

(They even had similar colouring, a whimsical corner of her mind noted.)

“Come on!” the girl in question, charging forward like a child much younger—or one who was not raised to be an aristocrat and a magus. Mash suppressed the urge to smile where she might catch sight of it; the Servant found it rather heartwarming to see, and if she realised the reactions she was causing, Olga Marie would be embarrassed, and revert back to her social training.

Let her be a child for a bit longer, Mash decided, even as she grimaced internally and added in afterthought, especially if what happened in my timeline ends up happening here . . .

“There’s no Grand Order here that I’m aware of,” the Master said casually, “though as I didn’t expect little Marie to be here at all, I’ll admit that I could be wrong.”

Mash blinked, surprised—and doubly so when she realised that no, she hadn’t actually said her thoughts out loud. But then a dim, distant memory rose up: a mess she’d had to clean up known as the “First”—and last, thankfully—“Craziest Master Competition” among the Servants . . .

Competition had been fierce among them; not surprising, as few Servants liked to lose at anything. The Artorias had been particularly intense, however—whatever annoyance they had at seeing someone walking around with their face and identity boiling over, Da Vinci had concluded. When combined with outrage over the idea that their lives weren’t considered “as bad,” given the various tragedies involved, and their naturally combative personalities, it had gotten . . . Loud.

Lily had arguably been a moderating influence—being too new as a Servant, and in Artoria Pendragon’s personal history, to have much to work with under the terms of the competition—but her effectiveness was limited, for obvious reasons. The foremost was that she was new, compared to the rest of them, and lacked the ability to wield real, decisive authority against them. On the other hand, she was innocent enough that no one wanted to upset her, so outright violence had been averted.

Other, similar Servants (mostly the more childlike ones, and the other Lily-types) had done the same. Not much would’ve been left of Chaldea’s cafeteria, otherwise; possibly not even Chaldea itself . . .

Mash hadn’t actually attended for the bulk of the contest (she was too busy trying to find Sempai, or someone else who could stop it) but she’d heard stories gossiped about afterwards. About summons to Holy Grail Wars across timelines—Artoria Pendragon and Kiritsugu Emiya, Vlad III and the crazy cannibal lady, Cuchulainn and Kirei Kotomine, Andersen and Kiara . . .

And then Mysterious Heroine X, the Servant least likely to actually be involved in a Holy Grail War, had spoken up.

“My first Master,” she’d apparently said, “knew stuff. That was the first rule of dealing with him: whether it was a secret you’d never told another living soul, an ancient mystery long lost to the depths of time, or something that hadn’t happened yet, he probably knew about it—and if he didn’t, you’d never know. What you would know was what he thought you’d need to . . .” She’d scowled. “Unless he thought it’d be funnier to see your reaction.”

That part, Mash had walked in on; it had garnered X sympathetic nods from a number of Artorias (and Mordred, and all the Cuchulainns, too)—along with pointed glares at Merlin (and a few more subtle ones at the various Scathachs). Even Ishtar and Ereshkigal had looked sympathetic, for a bit—though they’d claimed it came from their hosts . . .

“The second rule of dealing with him was even more important: you never wanted to know how he knew stuff. Master Agravain and the Dark R.O.U.N.D.s found that out the hard way . . .”

Apparently, according to X’s story, they’d discovered her Master’s foreknowledge, and tried to get it out of him. When their ancient dark arts failed (apparently resulting in the “enchantress” bleeding from every orifice on her head) they’d tried to copy it directly out of his mind . . . And the CPU of the machine responsible had melted down less than halfway through the process, and triggered a cascade effect that caused their base to self-destruct in the midst of the assault being led against it. This had led to plans to use the effect against “Golden Great Emperor Cosmo Gilgamesh,” but her Master had apparently vanished before they could be put into effect.

“. . . And whenever anybody just asked, he’d usually say something melodramatic, like, ‘To paraphrase, there are things that Man was not meant to know, period’ . . .” X had finished with a pout.

Abigail Williams—in her Outer Form—had giggled at that, and the sound was unnerving enough to cast a pall over the rest of the proceedings . . .

(Ultimately, Sempai had been declared the winner of the contest, by virtue of being the Master of all the Servants of Chaldea, if nothing else—and much to her dismay, Mash really couldn’t honestly dispute that . . .)

In short, in Shielder’s mind, she was dealing with a combination of Merlin, Moriarty, and possibly Da Vinci (at the very least, someone with their sense of humour), with some inherent element that Foreigners found amusing—all of which meant he was an exceedingly dangerous element, whatever his outside mien.

“That’s”—Mash struggled for the proper response here—“mostly reassuring, I suppose . . . ?”

He smiled. “Sorry, but I’m not omniscient, just really good at creating that impression . . .” The smile faded, and he continued with a sigh, “And on that note, I do have something of an ulterior motive for wanting to tag along.”

Mash felt her face settle into Shielder’s combat-ready expression, as she tensed her muscles to move; her uniform did not materialise, but between one heartbeat and the next, both it and her weapon could.

“Oh?” she observed coolly. “And what would that be . . .?”

He inhaled deeply, and exhaled heavily.

“. . . Given the way things have been going in this War, I think we need a worst-case contingency plan,” the magus admitted. “If things really go bad—and I’m afraid that, from one source or another, it’s looking likely—then I honestly believe that you’re our last hope.”

“. . . Me?” Mash exclaimed. She blinked, bewildered. “How on earth do you think that I—”

“Oh, not just you,” he assured her, “though you’re a vital component, to be sure.

“In the end, though I’m still hoping otherwise, I think it might be that the fate of the world will be in your hands.”

Well, a corner of Mash’s mind remarked, even as she followed the man’s line of sight, I suppose I do have experience . . .

“What,” she said carefully, minding X and XX’s stories about the person in front of her, “exactly, do you have in mind?”

He told her—and on later reflection, Mash had to admit that neither variation of her old comrade had exaggerated all that much, for a change.








In theory, babysitting a “tween” while shopping for groceries—with three adults in the party—ought to be easy.

. . . In practice, however, when said “tween” was a magus aristocrat on top of a not-quite-teenage girl (and therefore having no concept of the value of money), it was far more difficult. Especially when one of the “adults” was a young woman barely out of her teenage years (and still having the dietary habits of that period), and a second, while much more responsible, was also more deferential by nature.

Which left Frid as the primary voice of reason, even as he was designated the pack mule by default—which was annoying, given the fact that they had two freaking Servants with them . . .!

It wasn’t that Olga Marie—or even Artoria—were malicious, or even lazy about what they were doing. It was that Olga was sheltered enough that nearly everything was new (and often exciting) to her, giving her the general air of a small child at a carnival. She was halting and staring at so many shop windows, to say nothing of browsing, that it took them almost an hour just to reach the market.

(In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have fed them first; being hungry might’ve spurred them to get things over with faster, so that they could eat . . .)

And “Tori”—a nickname he’d picked on the spur of the moment, but now definitely saw potential in—was acting like he’d expect a modern-era, teenaged Artoria Pendragon to act, when seeking food. Which she basically was; according to her Grand Order biography, she was in her early twenties, working an entry-level position—she hadn’t yet grown out of the “hungry? Eat snack” stage. Or reached the level of maturity where cheap junk food was preferred over an actually nutritious meal. Instead, anything that looked shiny (or more specifically, sugary) was pursued with a vengeance.

To be fair, Artoria was keeping a closer eye on the prices than Olga; obviously, she’d picked up something about bargain-hunting—but that just meant that she went for cheaper stuff in bulk. Whatever her opinions about Sabers, she seemed to have internalised the original’s “Hunger is the enemy” motto, and was planning on a long siege . . .

As it was all proving a thorough distraction, however, he couldn’t really complain; even if the “breakfast-shopping” had by necessity become “brunch-shopping,” and by now was thoroughly working its way into “lunch-shopping” territory—and coming up on a late lunch, at that . . . Because he needed the distraction, honestly.

If Frid had been on his own he’d have curled up into a ball by now, and started screaming until his throat gave out. Between the mess of his assumed relationship with Fiore, the Great Holy Grail War and its usual complications, and the additional ones thrown into the mix by the presence of Rin and the Works, to say nothing of Erik and his usual insanity . . . He was in so far over his head it had gone right past being “not funny” to being “hysterical,” in every sense of the term. He barely had any idea of what was going on, never mind about what was going to happen, and the craziness just kept COMING—

Not least of which was the fact that he now seemed to have two Relics of his own, and that meant . . .

Was he a Scion?

From his perspective, that was a pen-and-paper RPG, not a world unto itself; or at least, no more of one than he and his group chose to create. If the half-baked story he’d tried selling Erik and Tamamo was actually true, though—if the Krampus character he’d created had been reincarnated, somehow, as him, and was now thrown back into the proverbial mix . . .

“Existential crisis” was putting it mildly, at this point—from both directions, since it meant Krampus had been given a peek behind the proverbial curtain, and a glimpse of what really ran his world. A concept that was all the more unsettling to contemplate when he knew there were plans for Second Edition to incorporate the beings of the Lovecraft Mythos . . .

(. . . Honestly, at this point, the least complicated explanation would be that he was actually a self-insert character; but “least complicated” would also be “most worrying,” since he knew the guy weaving his fate—lazy, impulsive, sadistic, and largely clueless bastard that he was. Although, it would explain why it felt like the last few days had been the last few months, instead . . .)

Still, there were arguments against his being a Scion as well: primary among them being that he still bled red, and not gold. After all, the dream (?) involving Hel had been the closest thing he’d had to a Visitation, which should have awakened his divine heritage if he was a Scion. And yes, he had Relics; but one of them was obviously a joke, and he had no idea whether he could even use them. So unless or until his “divine progenitor” showed up, there was no reason to really believe he was. After all, Krampus’ had been his maternal grandfather, as a nod to his own personal history, but Second Edition Scion seemed to restrict it back to parents, which made things much less likely in his case.

And the other options for creating Scions in Second Edition made even less sense for him—at least, as things currently stood. Sure, it could be argued that Frid had been created ex nihilo, but the Seldarine weren’t a recognised Scion pantheon; they couldn’t be, given the copyright issues. Adoption by a deity was even less unlikely, particularly here—and if he was a God who’d cast aside his divine mantle to live a new incarnation, Frid was pretty sure he’d remember doing it.

Odds were, the spellcaster decided, that if he actually tried using the Relics, they’d either fail to work, or work for some other reason. After all, “Relic” was hardly a term exclusive to Scion. TYPE-MOON had its own uses for it, so did media like Magic: the Gathering (please, no—he was already out of his depth enough without being a Planeswalker), the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Doctor Strange, specifically), the Castlevania series—

. . . Wait—what?!

Frid blinked, and took another hard look at the Millennia Fortress in the distance.

. . . Why, oh dear God why, does it look like freaking CASTLEVANIA—and yes, I’m aware that probably is the answer to the “how” of my question, but WHHYYYY . . .?!

. . . Not that he didn’t think Erik wouldn’t do something like that, if he wanted to piss Vlad—and by extension, Darnic—off. He might need Tamamo to suggest it to him, as it was more her style, but he’d definitely do something like that. Although, given that the main games’ version of Dracula drew power from “the Chaotic Realm,” making him something of an equivalent to an Avatar of Hundun, the Greater Titan of Chaos (or maybe Soku-no-Kami, the Greater Titan of Darkness, given Dracula’s usual themes), maybe not.

After all, given the hassles that single fragment of Ymir was already causing, why Erik would do something that, given his and Tamamo’s Fateful Aura, was liable to backfire spectac—

Frid blinked, as a stray fact asserted itself in his brain.

The “Aria of Sorrow” Castlevania game which contained that information on the origin of Dracula’s powers had been released in 2003—just as Erik would’ve been landing on Mars.

Ergo, it was just remotely possible that he didn’t know what a laughably terrible idea his joke actually was—

. . . Oh, crap.

Frid grabbed for his cell phone, intent on calling Fiore, connecting to Erik, and finding out what the hell he was thinking, when two sudden and more immediately disturbing events occurred:

First, accompanying a distant rumble, the sky became overcast, shrouded in a spreading layer of what looked like smoke—or fog.

And second, Olga Marie screamed.

[Arbitrarity]

Interesting, Frid's od is delicious? That might make sense given his aesthetic appreciation of Tsukihime's setting, though it's interesting that it works on Artorias (Artoriae?). I was unaware that MHX used to canonically be an actual TV star, that's... interesting. You'd think that would have been lucrative enough, but she is not a master of financial prudence.

Mash's paranoia is extremely convincing.

The Artorias had been particularly intense, however—whatever annoyance they had at seeing someone walking around with their face and identity boiling over, Da Vinci had decided

I feel like 'concluded' might have been a better word choice than 'decided' here.
Also, your Servant -> Master order is reversed for Kotomine/Cu, you listed each as Servant, then Master, except for that one, implying Kirei was summoned to serve Cu

Hah, Ishtar/Ereshkigal are getting hit by Rin's reaction to Kotomine. Nice touch.

I do wonder what criteria they're using for 'craziest'. Ritsuka isn't especially insane, unless we're talking about Learning with Manga Gudako. They are in rather odd circumstances, and that might qualify, but nobody tends to think they're BAD. I guess it's hard to get consensus on other Masters, since there's a fairly wide diversity of perspectives among all the Servants, while everyone can universally agree that Ritsuka is very unusual.

Hm, contingency planning with Mash. Well, Lord Camelot is an effective tool for summoning Servants, so if you want to use it for summoning everything because the world is ending, as has happened both in and out of canon, that should be a valid option. Alternatively, Fou is in play, which could be good, but could also be bad (as the present circumstances are likely to empower it). Considering the number of hints dropped around Fou being with Mash being important, that seems a more likely hint.

Frid begins his path to becoming a Foreigner, by communing with the most powerful and malicious Outer Being in existence: himself. He is an incarnated deity from... himself. Who is a deity representing... himself. His Relics are Hel's thorned armlet, and... Estus Aestus? (since it's modified by a god?) I don't think we actually had a scene where he received that yet. Actually,

“Godafrid,” the Norse deity—which she still found hard to believe, but was coming to accept the possibility of—said evenly, “mind if I have a word?

“In private?” he finished ominously.

wasn't even explicitly resolved. I ASSUMED it was the prank with the Sword, but I can't find a scene where he explicitly picks it up and is pranked, it's just implied, in that the chapter where Erik decided to use Aestus Estus as a prank, RB said "Yeah, you get to see that with this next chapter here.", then in his next chapter

Estus Aestus, as a two-thousand-plus-year-old sword, may not be sentient—but it still has some form of willpower, being the physical blade a Noble Phantasm is based upon. And as power runs through it, from its new wielder picking it up, something unique happens.

I distinctly feel like I missed out on the seeing the prank unfold. Heck, I missed out on seeing any interaction with Nero whatsoever. Are we going to get her in media res in a later chapter, or an omake?

Annnd at least someone finally recognizes that Castlevania is bad news. So we're simultaneously having Darnic make a move along with Jack, which is pretty nasty, though at least Semiramis is depleted for now. Presumably Darnic will hit the town to make vampires, while Jack hits the Wolfen

Wait, how old is Kairi's step-daughter? Ohhhh crap.

[Xamusel]

...ugh. I feel like I should ask for more details, but I can't think of what to ask about, other than what Arbitrarity said.

[Arbitrarity]

...ugh. I feel like I should ask for more details, but I can't think of what to ask about, other than what Arbitrarity said.

Kieran loves his foreshadowing, so I do my best to guess. Also, it's actually sometimes in flux (at least, from reading some of the historical contents of Trinity threads), though I doubt that here.

[Xamusel]

I can imagine that, actually... well, hopefully it'll work out better that they figure out what to do about the prank.

[RanmaBushiko]

Interesting, Frid's od is delicious? That might make sense given his aesthetic appreciation of Tsukihime's setting, though it's interesting that it works on Artorias (Artoriae?). I was unaware that MHX used to canonically be an actual TV star, that's... interesting. You'd think that would have been lucrative enough, but she is not a master of financial prudence.

Mash's paranoia is extremely convincing.

I feel like 'concluded' might have been a better word choice than 'decided' here.
Also, your Servant -> Master order is reversed for Kotomine/Cu, you listed each as Servant, then Master, except for that one, implying Kirei was summoned to serve Cu

Hah, Ishtar/Ereshkigal are getting hit by Rin's reaction to Kotomine. Nice touch.

I do wonder what criteria they're using for 'craziest'. Ritsuka isn't especially insane, unless we're talking about Learning with Manga Gudako. They are in rather odd circumstances, and that might qualify, but nobody tends to think they're BAD. I guess it's hard to get consensus on other Masters, since there's a fairly wide diversity of perspectives among all the Servants, while everyone can universally agree that Ritsuka is very unusual.

Hm, contingency planning with Mash. Well, Lord Camelot is an effective tool for summoning Servants, so if you want to use it for summoning everything because the world is ending, as has happened both in and out of canon, that should be a valid option. Alternatively, Fou is in play, which could be good, but could also be bad (as the present circumstances are likely to empower it). Considering the number of hints dropped around Fou being with Mash being important, that seems a more likely hint.

Frid begins his path to becoming a Foreigner, by communing with the most powerful and malicious Outer Being in existence: himself. He is an incarnated deity from... himself. Who is a deity representing... himself. His Relics are Hel's thorned armlet, and... Estus Aestus? (since it's modified by a god?) I don't think we actually had a scene where he received that yet. Actually,

wasn't even explicitly resolved. I ASSUMED it was the prank with the Sword, but I can't find a scene where he explicitly picks it up and is pranked, it's just implied, in that the chapter where Erik decided to use Aestus Estus as a prank, RB said "Yeah, you get to see that with this next chapter here.", then in his next chapter


I distinctly feel like I missed out on the seeing the prank unfold. Heck, I missed out on seeing any interaction with Nero whatsoever. Are we going to get her in media res in a later chapter, or an omake?

Annnd at least someone finally recognizes that Castlevania is bad news. So we're simultaneously having Darnic make a move along with Jack, which is pretty nasty, though at least Semiramis is depleted for now. Presumably Darnic will hit the town to make vampires, while Jack hits the Wolfen

Wait, how old is Kairi's step-daughter? Ohhhh crap.

Sorry for not replying until now. Just got home from thanksgiving about... 30 minutes ago? Let's see now...

Fate/Grand Order kinda sorta hints that there's a tv show based on Artoria and MHXX. Or that they're tv characters. One or the other. So it's a touch bit up in the air about things. And makes authors like myself and Kieran bang our heads against our desk, swearing at the translators, and writers for Fate/Grand Order.

As well as swear, rant, and rave about how the hell to convert abilities used in a video game into actual skills for a character to use.

And when it was MHXA as a seriously considered option, instead of MHXX? "How the hell do we work out her using a PHONE for all her skills?!" was one common rant from us both.

Paranoid Mash is also completely adorable, too. But him writing it properly is nice to read.

MHXX's note of Erik being an Odd God of Paranoia, is simply because she doesn't know about Erik's little trick with Geas contracts. *Chuckles*

Gudako's isn't "bad", but "crazy in abilities/scope/what the hell they're DEALING WITH and being able to cope with all that. That's what they meant by it.

Yeah, contingency planning, definitely. He KNOWS Erik is completely, utterly insane for the shit he can come up with. (You'll be seeing that in the next few chapters, too...) It's effectively building up to a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

As for Frid's path? *Shrugs* He knows where he's going with this. Me? Not exactly so much yet. But the sheer amount of debates, second guessing, and so on and so forth... has been rough.

On the subject of the omake, we haven't gotten around to writing it together yet. Mostly because we simply have not had the time to sit down, hash out the changes to the sword as a result of it being a brand new relic for him, etc. etc. As well as the back and forth chatting between them both, since we both can't easily write the other's dialogue for the other.

My Next Chapter is... mostly written, I sent a copy to Kieran to proof read (God damn it, Open Office, why didn't you come with a proper built in spell check for MOST OF THIS SHIT?!), and look over, earlier. But depending on if skype decided to work or not, it may not have actually gotten to him, and he might have to look it over tomorrow. And then you're going to see the results of Jack's initial assault on the Wolfen. "Ohhhh crap" is an understatement for the clusterfuck that is going to ensue.

There's reasons why I've been calling it an upcoming clusterfuck.

Between Darnic, Vlad, and a copy of Castlevania, Jack the Ripper and the small army of Dragon's-Tooth Warriors that she can possess, and everyone stuck in the middle?

Yeah, this has been building up to a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

...ugh. I feel like I should ask for more details, but I can't think of what to ask about, other than what Arbitrarity said.

I get that.

Kieran loves his foreshadowing, so I do my best to guess. Also, it's actually sometimes in flux (at least, from reading some of the historical contents of Trinity threads), though I doubt that here.

Yeah, it's kind of in flux a bit, still, for certain aspects of Godafrid's divine parentage for this.

I can imagine that, actually... well, hopefully it'll work out better that they figure out what to do about the prank.

Yeah. Prank's going to definitely be in an upcoming chapter, we're just still working on having time to hash stuff out.

[Kieran]

From famine to feast . . . If I'd gone to bed half an hour later, I could've answered this - stupid early-morning shifts . . .

Interesting, Frid's od is delicious? That might make sense given his aesthetic appreciation of Tsukihime's setting, though it's interesting that it works on Artorias (Artoriae?).

Originally, the description was meant to reflect his nature as a Lunar Exalt; oddly enough, the Moon Purview for Scion Second Edition does include a Boon that "casts familiar things in a new light, and reveals hidden beauty" . . .

I was unaware that MHX used to canonically be an actual TV star, that's... interesting. You'd think that would have been lucrative enough, but she is not a master of financial prudence.

See RB's explanation, above.

Mash's paranoia is extremely convincing.

Thank you; she's a nice girl, but the stories she has to go on (and the nature of the storytellers) has her worried.

(Also, I thought it was funny that everyone else sees him as a web-weaving mastermind, whereas he's freaking out trying to keep his head above water; the Degurechaff Effect, everybody! )

I feel like 'concluded' might have been a better word choice than 'decided' here.

Noted - I shall fix it when I have time.

Also, your Servant -> Master order is reversed for Kotomine/Cu, you listed each as Servant, then Master, except for that one, implying Kirei was summoned to serve Cu

Probably should fix that, yeah.

Hah, Ishtar/Ereshkigal are getting hit by Rin's reaction to Kotomine. Nice touch.

I was thinking Zelretch, but you're not wrong . . .

I do wonder what criteria they're using for 'craziest'. Ritsuka isn't especially insane, unless we're talking about Learning with Manga Gudako. They are in rather odd circumstances, and that might qualify, but nobody tends to think they're BAD. I guess it's hard to get consensus on other Masters, since there's a fairly wide diversity of perspectives among all the Servants, while everyone can universally agree that Ritsuka is very unusual.

Mostly in terms of "most ridiculous/annoying to work under," and as much about the circumstances as the Master themselves. As I wrote, for actually managing to manage all these Servants? Ritsuka must be crazy.

Hm, contingency planning with Mash. Well, Lord Camelot is an effective tool for summoning Servants, so if you want to use it for summoning everything because the world is ending, as has happened both in and out of canon, that should be a valid option. Alternatively, Fou is in play, which could be good, but could also be bad (as the present circumstances are likely to empower it). Considering the number of hints dropped around Fou being with Mash being important, that seems a more likely hint.

Maybe.

Frid begins his path to becoming a Foreigner, by communing with the most powerful and malicious Outer Being in existence: himself. He is an incarnated deity from... himself. Who is a deity representing... himself. His Relics are Hel's thorned armlet, and... Estus Aestus? (since it's modified by a god?)

In theory, he's an Outer Being by virtue of existence, but whether or not he ultimately becomes a Foreigner, I don't know.

I don't think we actually had a scene where he received that yet. Actually,

wasn't even explicitly resolved. I ASSUMED it was the prank with the Sword, but I can't find a scene where he explicitly picks it up and is pranked, it's just implied, in that the chapter where Erik decided to use Aestus Estus as a prank, RB said "[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Yeah, you get to see that with this next chapter here.", then in his next chapter


I distinctly feel like I missed out on the seeing the prank unfold. Heck, I missed out on seeing any interaction with Nero whatsoever. Are we going to get her in media res in a later chapter, or an omake?

Again, see RB's explanation, above.

Annnd at least someone finally recognizes that Castlevania is bad news.

And would have, sooner, except that Erik is kind of hard to dissuade once an idea gets into his head - nor does he actually think to ask about things before doing them.

So we're simultaneously having Darnic make a move along with Jack, which is pretty nasty, though at least Semiramis is depleted for now. Presumably Darnic will hit the town to make vampires, while Jack hits the Wolfen

Wait, how old is Kairi's step-daughter? Ohhhh crap.

Yup.

...ugh. I feel like I should ask for more details, but I can't think of what to ask about, other than what Arbitrarity said.

Hopefully, this answers a few things.

Kieran loves his foreshadowing, so I do my best to guess. Also, it's actually sometimes in flux (at least, from reading some of the historical contents of Trinity threads), though I doubt that here.

More than you'd think; finding a template that serves my desires, the rules, and events thus far has been . . . an exercise. As I've said, ideally, I want something I can use (or adapt) across multiple paradigms, and it's partially easy - demigods are surprisingly adaptable - but the specifics . . .

For example, Bast is a goddess that has everything I might want, and is actually a deity of the Forgotten Realms - but I'm a white guy, so I feel not-so-good about picking her as my patron. The Second Edition Aesir actually fit me better than they used to (and my name is significant in Old Norse), but that's RB's schtick, so . . . *Shrugs*

And other elements need more fleshing out, because the books don't exist, yet.

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 51: Assault on the Wolfen




1:05 PM




The Wolfen

Command Bridge




Erik narrows his eyes, thinking, as he watches over several screens. "Any signs of issues yet, Nestor? Scylla?"



"None, sir—not yet, at least,” Nestor admits, rubbing his beard. “But what you told us about her wiping memories, and it seeming to apply to cameras, we have to be extra vigilant. If she's gotten on board, or on the hull... We'll have issues, if she has."



Erik nods, glancing over camera after camera, thinking. "EMIYA? Can you test, and see if it's possible to Astralize through our windows here?"



EMIYA nods, and with a moment's notice, disappears. Moments later, he reappears.



"It's a struggle, but it's not quite as hard to do as with the metal you have for your hull. However, it might be easier for me because of Structural Analysis." EMIYA admits. "I could almost see the points where it would be easier to move through, astralized."



"Hmm. Damn. And since my own Servant is with my wife..." Erik trails off, thinking.



The sound of the door slamming open interrupts his train of thought, however.



"Erik?!" Mordred runs in, looking around. "Why the hell are we airborne? I thought we were holing up and waiting for Semiramis to come back again?"



Erik points at a screen, with the cloud with the Hanging Gardens in it now carefully circled, and a sign over it saying "The Carefully hidden Hanging Gardens, that pulled a Laputa" on the monitor. Then, he speaks, looking over at her. "They're two hours out, not the several we anticipated, Mordred. And with that sort of time, Jack the Ripper could have already snuck on board.”



“Aw, shit. And with whatever’s going on...” Mordred sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Damn. I was hoping to watch that third movie, too!”



Erik nods, with a bit of a chuckle. “Fair. After this, we can watch it together, if you want.”



Mordred thinks to herself, then smiles, asking, “No time to ask if I could get a Tumbler built for myself?”




“I mean, if you don’t want it to be as potent as my normal stuff? I can have a basic one built for you pretty quick here. But it will be made out of extra thick steel, like the trucks, not Meteorite Iron, like my mechs. That fair?” Erik admits.



“That’s... Actually fair,” Mordred admits. “Any upgrades, or anything for it?”



“If you don’t mind spoilers...” Erik chuckles, before looking carefully outside.



“Sure, I’ll take spoilers... What the hell is THAT you’re riding in, anyways?” Mordred blinks, as she clears the room, then stares at the hoverpod.



“This is the mostly rebuilt Wolf Wing Mark 2—still a couple kinks in it, so it’s stuck in the broader platform hoverpod setting, but it is able to fly!” Erik grins.



“Oh, neat! I want one now!” Mordred says, with a grin.



“It’s a bitch to get to fly,” Erik admits, “but I’ll try to set something up for you later, if you want it that much.”



Rin coughs into her fist. “If the bromance or whatever that you two have going on is finished, perhaps we could get back to the issue of Assassin of Black likely ready to sneak on board, if she hasn’t already?”



“Boss? No signs yet, but we’ve got some intermittent camera issues. Could be the ice coating we’ve got down below, or it could be her,” the Scylla states, audibly thinking.



“Have the cameras for the gun turrets start checking the lower hull, and do thirty-second scans per chunk. If any footage is lost over that period of time or odd...” Erik pauses. “Actually, make it eight-second intervals. If we do it too long, the video could be edited, or something, instead of the footage being lost...”



“Probably a smart move, Boss—anything else?” The Scylla asks, contemplating things.



“How much water did we get from the lake?” Rin asks, looking over the screens.



“Hm? About a third.” The response comes quickly from the Scylla.



“We could pump more water out, underneath,” Rin suggests, smirking a bit as she elaborates, “If she IS down there, she’s just as prone to slipping and falling as a human is, except for her speed, isn’t she? Plus, if we get high enough, can’t we make a cloud around this ship, too?”



“So my Master shows her ingenuity!” EMIYA chuckles.



“Good thinking—how long until we hit lower orbit, Nestor?” Erik studies the readouts, thinking. “And have we closed the ports for access to the outside?”



“Yes sir, we just did close them. Landing gear’s having issues, as are the maintenance walkways for hull repairs, though; that ice has jammed them open but good. And it’ll be five minutes until we’re high enough that if she IS down there, she’ll start having problems with breathing.”



“That doesn’t matter as much for Gods, so it might not matter as much for HER, either, but let’s hope.” Erik admits, rubbing his forehead. “Start sending out Mecha Fafnir Production Units, to get a look outside on the bottom. They can use the built-in flamethrowers to melt the ice around the landing gear and the maintenance walkways for under the hull.”



“Why didn’t we fix that issue of having to have that down to pull in water into the ships reservoirs directly, anyways, sir?” Nestor asks. “It’s one damned irritating situation, to have all that RUST if we ever land in water.”



“Doing that would break all the shit we put in for Ragnarok Contingencies, including that unfinished system, Nestor.” Erik states, still rubbing his forehead. “So as much as I dislike that issue as WELL...”



“Damn. Hope you get that issue fixed soon, boss. None of the Legion of Coal like dealing with water or rust damage, and they tend to track water in everywhere to show their disapproval.” Nestor admits, with a sigh.



Rin just rubs her forehead, slowly. “That’s irritating. Here’s hoping we can deal with that soon, at least.”



“The only other reason why the maintenance walkways would still be down would be if someone were on them somewhere.” Erik adds. “So if we get the ice melted off, and they’re STILL stuck down? Then she’s down there, and we can fight her at our leisure.”



“Okay. THAT’S good news, at least.” She admits, folding her arms. “It’s going to take a while, though?”



“I’d rather not send EMIYA to his near death, to check up close and personally. Or Chiron, for that matter.” Erik admits. “We’ll need them both for when we deal with the Hanging Gardens later.”



“Boss? Darnic won’t answer the phone call,” the Scylla states. “Maybe you could ask Miss Fiore Yggdmillennia about it? She’s coming up to the bridge right now.”



Erik nods, getting off his comfortable chair, then studies screens closer. “No sign of her underneath, yet... But the recordings from my War Beast were distorted heavily within minutes, and those were divine-made cameras I used. With this instead, I’m worried that the feeds could be damaged in real time by her. Add in the fog, and haze from us ascending so quickly...”



“And we can’t tell at all, huh?” Mordred sighs. “Great. So now we’re stuck with a large possibility of Assassin of Black down there and—” Mordred pauses, as the door opens, admitting Fiore Yggdmillennia being pushed by her Servant. “And until we’re certain if Assassin of Black is outside on the bottom of the hull, we’re stuck like rats in a cage, aren’t we?”



Fiore winces, as she realizes the situation instantly. “I’m guessing she may have arrived, then?”



“Landing gear and maintenance walkways that extend for my Legion of Coal is stuck open down there. It could be the ice we’ve coated to the bottom. Or it could be that Assassin of Black is down there, and that’s keeping it locked in the open position. There’s no easy way for her to get in, but there’s no easy way for us to get out either.” Erik admits.



“And since she seems to erase information from mechanical devices, it’s hard to tell one way or another right now.” Mordred admits with a sigh.



“Leaving us stuck,” Fiore thinks aloud. She begins to turn, and then catches herself, murmuring, “Right—Godafrid’s not here...”
She then blushes bright red at the sudden realization that every Servant in the room, as well as Erik, is grinning at her.



“Oh, you heard that, didn't you?” She blushes more, then shakes it off, drawing a deep breath and straightening in an effort to look professional. “Thank you for getting my brother out of the city, with one of those trucks you had getting supplies from my faction's safe houses, Erik. It was truly kind of you to do so.”



Erik nods back at her. “The supplies are helpful, and if I can get someone out of the way of this clusterfuck, I'm happy to. Though, the Legion of Coal unit his Servant's partially possessing, isn't going to be perfect anytime soon.”



“Truly? His Servant possesses that thing?” Fiore blinks. “That explains a bit, like why you built a human looking exterior for it.”



Erik nods, thinking, as he studies screens carefully. Fiore moves to study them soon, too.



“The Hanging Gardens have been two hours out, by their speed, not the lead time we expected. They're sticking around, probably since they've likely realized they didn't kill enough Servants to power the damned Grail.” Erik admits, folding his arms.



Fiore winces. “Thus, the moment you realized it, you took off. That's smart, tactically speaking. On a different note, you mentioned you might be able to help with my legs?”



“My wife knows how the human body works nearly as well as any other God related to Medicine that you could care to name, and we've been developing cloning technology using her knowledge as a result. Scylla could tell you more, but he has a hard time understanding the concepts behind it, while she understands the concepts, but not the deepest parts.” Erik admits.



“So when you say you could fix my legs, she likely could see all the issues, and how to fix them?” Fiore asks, blinking. “That would be very, very helpful, if she could do that. I don't like being stuck in a wheelchair because of the pain.”



Erik nods. “She's working on the cloning equipment, with the other two Masters of Red, right now. They seem to be mostly in this for the equipment, to be honest.”



“Leaving them out of the running for a wish and able to help someone that might have one, tactically?” Fiore muses. “Not a bad benefit for you, I suppose.”



Erik simply shrugs. “To be fair, I prefer worshippers, myself. Less fuss, less mess, and more people I can help.”



Fiore stares at him openly at his words. “You put humanity over yourself?”



“Fiore? I've been a God for less than a Century. I'm not an asshole. I'm not the sort of God that would throw away my followers’ lives for my own. I'm the sort that remembers I was raised to think I was just as human as you, or anyone else you may have known before I showed up. I was raised to be a good man, and a good son.” Erik admits, studying her as she slowly smiles in understanding.



“You're not a bad one, then. That's good. I tend to get worried, after all.” Fiore admits. “Especially with Godafrid spending so much time with you.”



“To be fair, he's likely going to spend more time with you for a while now, after I got him with that prank.” Erik admits, with a grin on his face. “On part of the trip I took Olga and her Servant on, before Zelretch showed up to warn me about the Heart of Winter? It ended up leading us to Nero Claudius' grave, where we wound up with Nero's sword.”



Fiore blinks, tilting her head. “And why would that be a prank?”



“Archer of Red, over here, can see the history of weapons, and what the wielders did. We combined that with my slight skill with illusions, and then gave the sword, upgraded, to him as a gift.” Erik admits.



“And? What does that mean it does now?” Fiore thinks, trying to work it out aloud. “Illusions, and the history of the weapon, and what the wielder did...”



“Nero Claudius was notorious for being TONE DEAF, and loving to sing. So we mixed an illusion, with the blade's memories of its wielder, so Godafrid gets an illusion of Nero, to teach him how to wield the blade like Nero did.” Erik admits, as Mordred and EMIYA snicker in the background.



“You sicced a tone-deaf singing training aid on my Godafrid?” Fiore, eyes wide, and going red as she added, “All to ensure he spends more time with me?”



“Yup.” Erik grins unrepentantly.



Fiore buries her face in her hands, for a moment. Chiron, behind her, gives Erik a long “REALLY?!” look.



“... I'm not sure whether to be mad at you,” she finally admits, “or happy that you'd ensure he spends more time with me like that—but thank you, I suppose.”



“Fortunately for your ears, the runes won't let anyone else hear the singing results...” Erik grins. “And I made sure to upgrade it enough that it's a proper weapon for him, as well.”



At that, Fiore sighs softly. “Thank you for that, at least. So, what can I do to help, tactically speaking?”



Erik thinks. “First, I'd suggest contacting Darnic, and letting him know about what's going on. He won't let us get in contact with him right now, but it could be he's just in secret meetings, or working on his new castle's defenses.”



Fiore nods, folding her arms while obviously deep in thought. “Archer? Do you have any suggestions for Erik?”



“Only to wait and see, I suppose. I can't blame you for your paranoia, though. Assassin-class Servants are notorious for being hard to pin down.” Chiron admits, his arms folded, as he thinks things over.



Erik nods. “How long will it take for the flamethrowers on the Mecha Fafnir Production units to melt down the ice, without getting too close to the machinery?”



“Approximately two hours, Boss. We shouldn't have to refuel, during it, but they'll be useless afterwards.” The Scylla admits.



“Especially if we have to visually inspect each one, before letting them in... No. Actually, have them go down to the lower units.” Erik drums his fingers, thinking. “Damn—two hours, huh? Well, let's let them get to work, then.”



“I'll electrify the landing gear, Boss, so that if she IS down there, she'll re-think her idea of trying to get in, too.” The Scylla admits, and continues working.






1:30 PM




The Wolfen




Metal Repair Scaffolding







Jack the Ripper shivers, quietly in the cold, as she moves around, searching for a way into the ship.



“Mommy? I'm searching, but I can't find a way in at all. Nothing that isn't too tiny for me to move through, at least. And you mentioned that she insisted I can't Astralize while wearing all this stuff... it's getting harder to breathe, even with this rebreather, from how high up we are, too! Any ideas of how to get in?” She sends to her mother, as she searches dutifully.



“Oh, my poor daughter. How high up are you? We haven't noticed anything except clouds forming over there—or if Semiramis has, she certainly hasn't told me about it.” The voice of her mother echoes in her head, as she glances over the tools she has with her, before adjusting the jacket she's wearing, so it's warming her up more.



“I can't tell, Mommy. It's super, super high up though. I spotted some stuff spraying water into the air below us, though, so the clouds could be from that... Wait. They just stopped. And I can see mechanical dragons slowly melting the ice off some of these platforms! Wow, that's really neat to watch. They don't see me, thankfully, but it's kind of scary how hot those flames are...” Jack sends, as she moves, carefully moving around the fires.



“Do you think you could jump onto one, dear?” Her mommy's voice echoes in her mind, as Jack moves carefully, studying them.



“If I do that now, won't they notice the weight? They look like they've got a hard time flying as it is, with us this high up, too.” Jack sends, studying things. “I don't like the look of the tails, either, Mommy. They look like explosives.”



“Then stay back, and watch, dear. It could be that they're melting off the ice, to get that equipment you're on to retract. If so, you should have a chance to get in when it starts doing so...” Her mother's voice reaches her, as she shivers, and pulls herself into a tiny ball on a section already cleared.



“It's so cold, mommy... Thank Miss Semiramis for the long jacket, please? Without it, I think I could die from how cold it is. And the rebreather too, from Mister Shirou? The air's so thin up here... I thought the winters of London were cold, but this makes all of them seem warm in comparison...” Jack sends, as she curls up tight, using the jacket to warm her entire body up as she curls up mostly under the jacket.



“I'm so sorry dear. I wish I could have hugged you then, and taken you in then. In life, rather than after it...”



A slight hiss distracts her, as she glances at a massive metal pad next to her starts sparking wherever water touches it, leaving her wide eyed.



“Mommy? Sorry to interrupt you making me happy, but some of the stuff that sticks into the ship is glowing with electricity now. Is that normal?” Jack sends to her mom, quietly, shivering.



“No, dear—watch for enemies. They may not know you're on board, but that shows that they suspect. And if they catch you before you can get that pot on board, it could go wrong.” Jack nods to her Mommy's words, and then carefully watches closely for hatches, or ports of any kind to throw the pot into.



“Okay, Mommy! But I'm starting to worry about the rebreather. It's getting harder to breathe, even with it.” Jack admits, shivering from the cold.



“Could you use your fog to make air, and use the rebreather, my daughter?” Jack's eyes widen, as she focuses, then narrows as she makes a slight haze of fog surrounding only her rebreather.



“It works, Mommy! But it's still hard to breathe. There's a lot of yucky stuff in my fog, and this concentrated, it's not easy to breathe. But at least I have air!” Jack sends back, then carefully watches and waits.



“Maybe spread it out more? Since there'll be steam from those flamethrowers, try staying close to the steam, Jack.” Jack smiles at her mother's words, then works to do just that.



“It's working, Mommy! Thank you! This'll help me out lots!” Jack sends, as she finally breathes easy again. “Now, if I only had a better way to stop this cold...”






2:30 PM






Numb fingers slowly work, as Jack watches carefully, the last of the flying mechanical dragons flying down below, rather than back up into the ship above her. Slowly, she unfolds herself, ignoring body heat for the moment, to focus on her mission.



“You were right, Mommy. They went down below. He suspects I'm here, but doesn't have any proof.” Jack sends, her eyes narrowing as she watches carefully.



“Good job in hiding out, my daughter. When you get back, we can have a nice warm bath together, how does that sound?” Jack smiles at her mother's words, and watches carefully as the scaffolding, and big metal pads start to retract into the ship, then pause and reverse the retraction.



“Mommy? Something's going on. The scaf... scaffo... walkway things, and pads started retracting into the ship, and then reversed. What should I do?” Jack sends, her eyes narrowed and watching carefully for just about anything before moving higher, as high as the scaffolding will let her while still being sneaky.



“Watch for more machines, my daughter, and be careful!” Jack smiles at her mother's voice, then nods, before murmuring aloud. “I have such a wonderful Mommy. I hope I get to keep her...”



The sound of hovering engines descending behind her leaves her pausing.



“Well, shit. If it isn't Jack the Ripper, once more! And if I knew you were here, I would have had a surprise prepped and everything for you, too!” Erik's voice cheerfully comes from a floating platform behind her, as she slowly turns to stare at him.



“How did you know I was HERE?!” Jack screams over the wind, to Erik's grin.



“Platforms are supposed to automatically retract unless the weight measurements show someone's on them, for safety precautions. We thought it was the ICE, but when they still refused to retract, it gave you away. Your quiet words there weren't good enough against my hearing, either.”



Erik smiles, in the same sense that a wolf does. “Still, it's no big problem, you not getting a proper surprise here. I'm sure I can tweak things for you.”



With those words, the triple barreled lasers unfold, on each side of the Wolf Wing, letting Erik take aim, even as several cannons on the Wolfen turn to aim at her as well.



“You're kidding me, right?! NOT AGAIN!” Jack screams, as she starts to dodge an assault of lasers and railgun rounds, even as Erik grins.



Out in the open, however, Jack's speed works for her. Before, in the cramped corridors of the Hanging Gardens, Jack couldn't fight well. Out on scaffolding she can jump around? Running to and fro? Her speed is finally shown, leaving Erik nearly hitting, barely scratching, or missing her entirely as they begin a high speed chase around the Wolfen.



“You know! I'm starting to be reminded of the Sonic games, and how Robotnik, or Eggman, or whatever you want to call him, is always just too damned slow to hit him. It's not as fun as I'd imagined it would be, either!” Erik growls, as he chases her. “At least there's no easy way onto my ship from down here, right now!”



“Grr! Just give up and let me kill you, for Mommy's sake! I can't promise it won't hurt, though!” Jack shouts, as she tries to find a vantage point to jump onto Erik's hoverpod.



“And why would you be able to hurt me? Or have you gotten your knives coated with poison, perhaps?” Erik smirks.



At his words, she flings a throwing knife, coated in poison. She smiles, at it going at just the right speed, angle, and strength to hit, before glaring at it slamming into some sort of clear glass like substance between her and him instead.



“Poisoned indeed, it seems.” Erik's smile fades. “Still, if you're bringing poison to this, I suppose I should take this more seriously...”



As he speaks, he reaches out, and kicks the clear glass, made by his wife, away, as the knife slowly slides down the divinely made glass from the poison cutting through slowly, like a hot knife through butter. As the glass falls in between them, Erik finally moves the hoverpod a ways back, out of easy knife throwing range while pulling a metal nautilus shell over his mouth.



Jack's eyes narrow, as she twitches. “I'm going to make you suffer for my arm. You hear me?”



Erik simply salutes her, as he pushes the Wolf Wing up to the bottom of the Wolfen, a door opening above it, then slamming shut as he moves into it, leaving her alone with the cold once more, glaring at the hole that was far out of reach.



“Wait... How did he remember my name?!” She yelps, before focusing to contact her mother once more.



“Scylla. Did you catch all that?” Erik asks, as the Wolf Wing shoots through the Wolfen.



“Yeah, Boss. She's stupidly fast; you're going to need something with high speed to counter it.” The Scylla replies, thinking. “High speed, plenty of ammunition, and able to move through the winds at this height.”



“Any suggestions? I wasn't anticipating high-atmosphere fighting.” Erik admits, as he moves rapidly through the Wolfen.



“Mecha Fafnir's Mark 2 shape is almost all wrong for this. That thing's designed for run and gun operations. The Valkyrie MIGHT work, but with how much customization Amaterasu had to counter the weight of the Radiant Wave Surger, you'd need some time in a simulator to learn how to properly adjust your movement with the modified control scheme. But with that Hydra Venom, I wouldn't suggest getting close. The only thing I can think of that could fly at this height, would be the Mecha Fafnir Mark 1. That thing's so outdated though, in terms of durability...” The Scylla trails off. “Two or three good shots from her, and you'd have no protection, especially with that poison she's using.”



“Any chances of getting it to the Hangar, and out of her line of sight?” Erik asks, calmly adjusting his route.



“Are you insane?! Boss! Aargh, FINE, if you want to take on that old hunk of flying metal and use it against her, just don't say I didn't warn you if it crashes and burns. I'm still not sure how well it would work at this height in the atmosphere!” The Scylla shouts, enraged, before continuing in a more normal tone of voice, “But no, there's no chance in hell of getting it to the hangar. We'd have to lower the Mecha Museum outside of the Wolfen entirely for you to launch it, since it's practically jammed down there. It's stuck at the very bottom, and there are lots of squished floors between it and most of the ship.”



“Any chance of refueling and rearming it, then?” Erik asks, rubbing his forehead.



“Yeah, THAT we can do, Boss—it'll be done within two minutes,” The Scylla still sounds irate, but calm. “Any other crazy ideas?”
“If things really go to hell, we can always turn the gravity generators off, and go for space, you know. Suffocate her to death.” Erik grins, coldly.



“Okay, smart move. So if Mecha Fafnir Mark 1 fails, or takes too much damage, we head for high orbit?” The Scylla sounds amused with his reply. “Roger that, Boss! I knew I followed you and your crazy bullshit for moments like this!”
With laughter, the Scylla cuts the connection, working to settle things before Erik can get to the Mecha Museum's new location.



It takes time to arrive to the Mecha Museum, but Erik smiles as he looks over the exhibits. Life-sized models of his first mech designs, proudly moving like the animatronics displays they were, realistic animatronic reenactments of the fights against Fafnir, and Surtr, in real time.



Yet, in the middle, it all pales compared to the one machine there. Mecha Fafnir Mark 1, still mothballed like the day he left it there for people to study. The Legion of Coal refueling the old machine, and rearming it.



“It's still beautiful, isn't it?” Erik murmurs, as he stretches. Then, a belt is raised up in front of him.



“We found this belt while searching through the rubble to get down here, Father. It looks to be yours?” The Legion of Coal unit says, studying his creator carefully.
Erik picks it up, blinking. “Why, it is! It's my old belt to link to the Gem of Power! Holy crap, I thought this was destroyed!”Erik smiles, then gives them all a hug, gently, each unit in there. “Thank you, all of you. I wish I could talk more, but with Jack the Ripper outside and her ability to erase machines databanks of her presence...” Erik trails off, meaningfully.



“Understood. We'll keep on watch like the Scylla tells us to, Father.”



Erik nods, and sighs. “To be fair, I am sorry about your losses. Each one of you being lost is a blow that I can't ignore... but we're in the depths of this war now, too. And if any of us are to survive, we need to deal with the threats before they can kill us and the few allies we have.”



The Legion of Coal nods, as they finish their work, then march off. For one long moment, Erik watches them, before shaking his head, putting his old belt on, and then settling back into his hoverpod.



Then, with one smooth motion, the hoverpod moves up, clicking into place in the war machine's mouth, to serve as the lower half of the mouth. Erik smiles at old monitors lighting up, showing pictures outside the war machine. Then his grin widens, at the sight of diagnostics running.






Mecha Fafnir Online.



Firmware 1.0.3
Warning: New Firmware Detected. Analyzing...
New systems are compatible with current firmware.
Analyzing Hardware...



Warning! Hardware has been reconfigured from prior hardware, meant for engaging Surtr! Accept Changes?
Y



Changes Accepted!



Twin Linked Heavy Machine Guns: Online
5,000 Rounds each
Liquid Nitrogen Enhanced Tail Spikes: Online
Laser Links to Cover Claws: Online
Tail Tip Explosive Launcher: Online
3 Rounds
Twin Linked Micro-Missile Launchers: Online
10 Rounds Each
Extra Ammunition Storage Bays: Fully Loaded






As he verifies things are all fully functional, Erik's grin widens more, as he starts laughing. “Mwahahahaha. Ahahahahahahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT STILL LIVES! Now, to deal with Jack...”



Gears shift, and a door slides open under the Mecha Museum, slowly lowering the massive structure, leaving Erik to stare at Jack the Ripper, face to face as it flies off towards her.



“Sorry it took so long, but I'm afraid it took a while to get your surprise out of stora–wait, what the hell?!” Erik's eyes widen at the realization that Jack's coat is hanging around knives, rather than her, right before he hears footsteps land on the top of his flying war machine.



“Sorry, but I'm going to win this one!” With those words screamed, Jack hurls the pot into the Mecha Museum, then focuses, letting wraiths emerge from her to move into the ship and the skeletons, leaving Erik staring wide eyed at security cameras in the Wolfen.



And, slowly, Erik's smile dies, before the original Mecha Fafnir slams into the bottom of the hull of the Wolfen, trying to grind Jack the Ripper into dust.



She lands, slightly unsteadily, glaring as she pulls her coat back on. “It's no fair, bringing a metal dragon to a fight! First, that metal beast, then this?!”



“You're going to pay for sending that into my Wolfen, Jack the Ripper,” Erik outright snarls. “I'm going to enjoy making you suffer for that.”
“Boss! Five hundred Dragon's-Tooth Warriors have emerged from the Mecha Museum, from whatever the hell she just threw! What's more, the Legion of Coal can't target them! The Mechs seem to, but only barely...”
As if to prove the truth of the Scylla's words, Erik adjusts his ride to be out of her range of throwing knives, and then starts attacking with the lasers, trying to drive her off.



Much to his surprise, what barely missed before now has an easier time nicking her. “Looks like she's responsible for whatever the hell is going on with them, Scylla, but it's definitely slowing her down as a result. Deploy all the Production Line mechs, try to herd them using blast doors to stay in the outermost corridors for transit, and sic Mordred and the other Servants on them. I'll deal with her myself.”



Jack frowns up at Erik's flying mechanical dragon, her eyes carefully studying it for flaws and weaknesses, right as twin machine guns open fire, sending her darting away.



“When I'm done with you, you're going to regret what you did to me in that last fight!” She shouts, desperately dodging bullets.



“No, Jack. When I'm done with you, you're going to regret having sent troops in to attack my guests! Trust me, when I'm done with you, you'll think that what I did before was merciful!” Erik snarls further, and then punches the afterburners, attempting to smash her with the tail. “Now DIE, and STAY DEAD ALREADY!”



“YOU FIRST!” Jack screams, as she leaps into the fray.






Author's Notes:



It's a bit smaller, this chapter. However, there's only so much milking of the fighting that I could do here, for the last few scenes.



Still, you get to enjoy Erik and Jack finally throwing down. And oh boy, is this going to suck for both of them.

[Arbitrarity]

Sorry for response delay, writing them takes a fair bit of work usually, since I'm cross-referencing.

That is a fairly sensitive safety measure on the walkways. I do wonder if Glam Sight would capture Jack side effects on the cameras. I feel like maybe? On the other hand, I'm pretty sure the skill says "At the instant a battle ends", so real-time removing camera footage before someone can see them is a strong reading of the effects, especially when you're taking actively hostile actions against her (but aren't there in person). Presence Concealment A+ is probably sufficient alone to prevent being noticed by cameras when staying hidden, though. Similarly, even Presence Concealment + Information Erasure shouldn't prevent actively hostile skeletons from being targeted.

Fog air hacks are sneaky. I do wonder how vulnerable Servants are actually supposed to be to environmental conditions like vacuum, since they don't have exactly the same level of vulnerability as humans to most natural hazards. I guess if they can drown, they need air somehow, but I'm not so sure about air pressure hazards.

I would definitely go to space rather than going for mech combat. Much safer. Slower, possibly, but less risky, less Legend expenditure, and so forth. Hell, you could probably Rainbow Bridge the ship into orbit if you were willing to pay the cost, if that's still working. Then we don't get a fight scene, though

[RanmaBushiko]

Sorry for response delay, writing them takes a fair bit of work usually, since I'm cross-referencing.

That is a fairly sensitive safety measure on the walkways. I do wonder if Glam Sight would capture Jack side effects on the cameras. I feel like maybe? On the other hand, I'm pretty sure the skill says "At the instant a battle ends", so real-time removing camera footage before someone can see them is a strong reading of the effects, especially when you're taking actively hostile actions against her (but aren't there in person). Presence Concealment A+ is probably sufficient alone to prevent being noticed by cameras when staying hidden, though. Similarly, even Presence Concealment + Information Erasure shouldn't prevent actively hostile skeletons from being targeted.

Fog air hacks are sneaky. I do wonder how vulnerable Servants are actually supposed to be to environmental conditions like vacuum, since they don't have exactly the same level of vulnerability as humans to most natural hazards. I guess if they can drown, they need air somehow, but I'm not so sure about air pressure hazards.

I would definitely go to space rather than going for mech combat. Much safer. Slower, possibly, but less risky, less Legend expenditure, and so forth. Hell, you could probably Rainbow Bridge the ship into orbit if you were willing to pay the cost, if that's still working. Then we don't get a fight scene, though

Yeah. Erik went for some pretty smart sensitivity. He also made sure to NOT pull a Sky Deck level, like Robotnik/Eggman did in Sonic Adventure with the Egg Carrier. No matter how much Tamamo asked for one.

The skill IS for "At the instant a battle ends", but information erasure counts searching for an enemy. But, Kieran and myself noted that the effects likely would be heightened for divinely made equipment. Erik can counter it for himself. To a point, the Scylla can stop it. Tamamo and Fenris would have issues, but would remember.

The equipment, however... is another story. Thus the sensitivity shown here. She wound up, due to Kieran and I talking it over, being the most dangerous Servant to Erik's equipment as a whole. And she's finally risen to the occasion for it, as you're starting to see here. Add in that she's the only Servant faster than Erik is without him being in his "Full God" state, and getting a one way trip to visit Amaterasu's real body?


As for the skeletons, they're possessed by her wraiths. So they don't just have information erasure, Presence Concealment, but they also have her fog. And unlike her, are using it to counter the targeting cameras for the Legion of Coal. Effectively... "Blind the eyes, just like normal people! Hey, that worked! I'll let the other parts of me know, too! Wait. They all know, because we're all the same person! Yay! No shouting to let them realize things, or where I am!"


As for fog air hacks? We were concerned about if Servants COULD have issues with breathing, until we looked at Assassin Nitocris' NP. That killed his argument pretty quick, and left him agreeing that she can likely suffocate, but it would take time, just like it would for Gods/Demigods in Scion.

Erik's plan for dealing with her, you'll see it next chapter. Of course, there's always the old adage of "No plan survives contact with the enemy" as it's shown to be so far.

As for Rainbow Bridge... he's a little too pissed off to remember to use it right now. Very much too pissed off.

I would say "Utterly enraged for the first time since he's gotten here" grades of pissed. Close to the "Yeah, there's reasons why those that worshiped Norse Gods could be Berserkers..." levels of rage. So his memory for things like Rainbow bridge are a little shot right now.

Of course, that's going to make the fight scene, and his eventual plan, more interesting, now isn't it? Mwahaha.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and TYPE-MOON, along with whomever they’ve happened to license them to, such as Geneon, Funimation, A-1 Pictures and Netflix.
This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.







Century Hotel, Misaki City
“Fate/Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya” Universe
July 4, 2004








Well now, that was unexpected . . .

And coming from him, Zelretch felt, that should really be saying something.

The ancient Dead Apostle sighed. Really, this had just been meant to be a fun little exercise to blow off steam after that disappointing series, and potentially improve upon it—how it gone so ridiculously off-track?!

. . . And the answer was, “the Norse deities,” the magus supposed, sighing inwardly, particularly the male.

After all, he’d managed to destroy this world via arriving in the first place—small wonder that he was still capable of blowing things out of proportion, to say nothing of his capacity for prompting ever-increasing escalation on all sides. It had even somehow gotten to the point that even Alaya had apparently thrown up its non-existent hands and said, “I give up,” rather than just wiping out Trifas wholesale . . .

Still, how had it come to this? The Norse deities hadn’t managed to cause an incipient vampire apocalypse the last time; yeah, they’d pulled a lot of FromSoftware stuff, but that was in reaction to the Arctic apocalypse that had occurred—Castlevania was entirely out of left field!

Of course, he admitted, some of that was probably down to his own meddling; because he’d set up the Red Faction for this, for example, the Servant lineup was different. But still—! Not even his apprentice could cause this much chaos (yet), and that boy she hung out with who attracted it wasn’t even there! (Alternative timeline analogues notwithstanding, of course; but that version seemed to trade in the “ridiculous circumstances” curse for “angst,” anyways.)

And yes, a few of the Servants had been chosen for their comedic rather than their combat potential—but even so, the Wizard Marshal could not, for the (un)life of him, figure out exactly how—

He halted in sudden realisation.

Son of a . . .








The Vanishing Tower, Arvandor
The Olympian Glades of Arborea, the Outer Planes







“What the hell,” Zelretch politely inquired, “did you do to that boy, exactly?”

The ancient elf deity (who, unlike most elves or deities, actually looked ancient, though in the “well-preserved” sense that only Hollywood could achieve with mortals) gave the intruder in his tower a wintry smile, and responded in a tone as dry as the dust of ages.

“Not nearly so much as we would have liked to, I assure you.”

The magus raised an eyebrow. On the rare occasions he interacted with the faerie realms, it usually wasn’t this branch of things; though Zelretch had run across them before—that “Hlal” fellow had an interesting sense of humour, he thought. Still, while this particular member of the pantheon was relatively unknown to him (aside from what he’d managed to dig up from translated gamebooks), it wasn’t hard to read amusement in his overall bearing.

“The Ssri-Tel’Quessir,” Labelas Enoreth said gravely, “have been nonexistent for over eleven thousand years; no small amount of time, even for an elf—or a god,” he added thoughtfully. “It marks well over a fifth of the time we have been invested in this world . . . Restoring them cost our king the life of his daughter, and it would, ultimately, have been for nothing. All is, eventually, to be reset, with all sacrifices undone—and our children lost, once more.

“And now, that will not happen,” the god of time said firmly. “For the actions of a mortal—and a mortal human, at that—a piece of our history and our legacy will endure, and hopefully thrive, safe and beyond the reach of harm, whereas once more it would have been consigned to rot under the curse of the drow . . . If it was remembered at all.”

“Something that was lost—and believed, and by most measures rightly, to be beyond redemption—has been placed in our hands. I schemed for its happening, and even I can’t quite believe it,” Labelas admitted.

“Given the choice, we’d have made him a king, a legend—perhaps not so far as godhood, though little else would seem worthy of it . . . But human he was, and human he needs must have remained to serve his friends, as he wished—and how could we deny him that?”

“So, no,” the aged elf said dryly, “we did not ‘do’ nearly so much as we would have wished to—but though limited in our ability to act, it is true that we did our best within those limitations.”

“Ah? And that leads to . . .?” Zelretch asked invitingly.

After a hard stare—admittedly impressive from an elf with only one eye, even if he seemed to be copying Anthony Hopkins’ appearance as Odin onto an elven template—the deity shrugged minimally, and conjured a goblet and a bottle of ruby, gold-flecked liquid.

“Not your usual fare,” Labelas admitted, “but I suspect elverquisst might have be something of a revelation to your palate.”

The Wizard Marshall recognised the name; Hlal had brought it up during their last pub crawl. The precise details were a little hazy, but Zelretch thought he remembered being told it was distilled from summer fruits and sunlight, somehow . . .?

“This will either be amazing,” he remarked casually, “or hideously painful—but it’s liable to be an experience, either way.”

“Indeed,” the deity remarked. “I recommend trying it somewhere closer to home, given your likely issues with the amount of positive energy already on this plane, but I suspect you will find your statement an accurate one.”

“. . . You know, Hlal never mentioned you as having much of a sense of humour,” Zelretch noted.

“I’ve little time for it,” Labelas said dismissively, “but I am also old, and must take my amusements and indulgences where I can find them.”

Mentally tallying that answer as a cryptic misdirection if not an outright lie, seeing as Labelas was old, but was also the god of time, Zelretch returned to the original subject.

“So,” he repeated, “what exactly did you do to that kid?”

“. . . In order to maintain any form of authority over his soul,” Labelas began, “so that we could work upon him, it was necessary that he maintain a form that fell under our jurisdiction. To be one of the People would be best, of course—but as that was not an option, to leave him in Sehanine’s care was the next simplest solution.”

“. . . So he’s a werewolf, then?” Zelretch offered experimentally.

“A shapechanger, ultimately,” the elf corrected. “A werecreature, yes, when conditions are appropriate for one—but with a certain amount of flexibility, depending on the surrounding circumstances.” He smiled thinly. “For example, I am given to understand that such beings are not well-regarded in your home plane, either.

“In any case,” Labelas continued, “while he will nominally be a werecreature, or something akin to one, the inherent fluidity of his nature ought to shield him from certain environmental effects while travelling between planes, allowing him to adapt as necessary—and revert, once out of that environment.” He smiled. “Much as the Moon can show many different faces and phases, and yet it remains the Moon throughout—Sehanine was rather proud of that trick.”

Which, to the Second Magician, sounded as though it was drawing on a few of his own tricks, much as his apprentice’s affiliates did, with their “paradigm shields”; except that it sounded as though the boy was capable of being changed by different paradigms, while remaining unchanged, at the same time. There were potentially some interesting implications there, to say nothing of possibilities for research . . .








(At that moment, an icy spike of existential horror went through Godafrid—unfortunately, its significance was lost in the general terror washing through his being at Olga Marie’s cry.)








. . . What it did not explain, however, was how that phenomenon might have caused what Zelretch was seeing in the facet he was monitoring—and the Wizard Marshal said as much. The elf frowned, but he could tell that it was less in confusion or consternation than it was in recognition of having a particularly unpleasant theory confirmed.

“While it’s possible,” Labelas said carefully, “that such chaotic happenings are merely the result of so many clashing metaphysical laws, battling for dominance—those of your own realm, ours, and this third divine influence you mentioned . . .”

He sighed, before admitting grimly, “The presence of vampires, to the extent you’re describing—to say nothing of some of the other elements—is probably the Shadow’s influence.”

“’Shadow?’” Zelretch said sharply. To him, and various others in his general sphere of influence, that word—used in that sort of context—had a very particular meaning. While he’d never dealt with the phenomenon directly himself, the Wizard Marshal was certainly aware of it; and he heartily disliked hearing its name now.

“The Plane of Shadow,” Labelas clarified, “which is to one day soon be known as ‘the Shadowfell,’ home to an elven goddess not of the Seldarine . . . But for now, the resting place of a home to a domain ruled by Powers even we deities tread softly around—and only when we cannot avoid them entirely.

“Tell me, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg—in your centuries and travels, have you ever heard of ‘Ravenloft’ . . .?”









Century Hotel, Misaki City
“Fate/Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya” Universe
July 5(?), 2004








Zelretch awoke feeling as though he had sunburned the inside of his mouth to the point his skin had purpled, grown an orchard in the back of his throat that had since decayed into complete rot, all while being trampled by a herd of very angry unicorns; Clydesdales, at that.

In short, the Wizard Marshal was suffering his first hangover since before his fight with Crimson Moon Brunestud—and a bleary-eyed glance in the direction of the bottle showed that it was still half-full. He was torn between berating himself for ever touching the stuff, and wondering if draining the rest of the bottle would put him out of his misery.

. . . And then he remembered why he’d had so much of the liquor at once, and the question on his mind changed to “Can I get any more . . . ?”

It was followed, immediately, by the question that had prompted the drinking spree in the first place:

“Should I kill him now, or will that just make things worse?”

To Zelretch’s utter astonishment, it turned out that the otherworldly deities weren’t the biggest threat to this particular world; it was the hapless mortal his apprentice and her friends had taken in. Not in and of himself, of course. No, it was because of what was watching him—or at least, could be.

Labelas had taken some time to explain it, needing to be oblique, lest he draw the subject of the discussion’s attention; that absolutely was possible, in the paradigm the Seldarine and other deities operated in. Zelretch still wasn’t certain of all the particulars—partly because it was a hallmark of theirs to be unknowable—but he’d gotten enough to make him want to track down some game manuals, halfway through the night.

“Ravenloft” was the name of a Dungeons and Dragons setting, much like one the Seldarine hailed from—but geared towards “gothic horror” as its theme as opposed to the latter’s “high fantasy” one. The name was taken from a vampire’s castle within the setting, but its other epithets included “the Demiplane (or “Domain”) of Dread.” It was anchored to the Seldarine’s universe but loosely, through the Plane of Shadow (or apparently, in time, the Shadowfell) but its reach was entirely out of proportion to its size. The Mists that allowed for passage to, from, and within Ravenloft had been known to appear anywhere, even in deep space, to snare the unwary—

Or just as often if not more so, the deserving.

Ravenloft, as it happened, was something of a prison plane, containing some of the worst monsters from all manner of worlds in the Dungeons and Dragons cosmology; it existed to tempt, and to torment, as thoroughly as any hell—if far more subtly . . . And really, Zelretch had heard enough about how the place operated to wonder if perhaps some version of his world wasn’t a Domain in the Mists. After all, to be granted wondrous and terrible powers and constantly striving for something not quite within reach, but always with left with just enough hope, in failing, that the next attempt could be successful . . .?

It was an unsettling parallel to magus life, he thought—and those who fought for the Holy Grail, in particular. And knowing magi as he did, more than one crossed his mind as a potential candidate for the Dark Powers’ attention . . .

The Dark Powers.

They were the crux of the issue. Zelretch grimaced at the mere thought of them—much as he’d have liked to have blamed it on the hangover. They were the reason he was concerned now; because they had gods running scared. Whatever the Dark Powers really were, whatever their motivations—and the books were intentionally vague on the subject—the fact remained that they were capable of cutting clerics off from their gods within the boundaries of their own realm. Worse, they were seemingly capable of containing anything less than a “Greater God” within that realm. Combined with their generally malevolent actions, it was like dealing with Lovecraft’s creations in a less existential, but more malicious fashion . . .

And because Godafrid’s “werewolf” template, as the druid Kurai, had been based on the Ravenloft variant of lycanthropy, they already had a way in.

The Seldarine, Labelas had admitted, could have removed the taint, or outright destroyed it—in their own place of power, at the height of their strength, and with such a “small” portion of it present, the Dark Powers could not have stopped them . . . But it was possible that doing so would’ve drawn their awareness to the boy, and caused them to focus their attention on him; hardly the sort of reward their Lord Coronal had wished to bestow upon him.

As it was, they’d done their best to dilute it, muffle its effects or redirect them, such that the Dark Powers wouldn’t care to take a closer look at this being that already bore a touch of darkness. Labelas had even attempted to joke that, had she been aware of the possibility, Hanali Celanil might have chosen to bind the Shadow’s influence to that future elven deity of the Shadowfell . . .

(Which, Zelretch noted, was potentially worth looking into—it was an outlet for the Shadow taint that might be more acceptable than allowing Ravenloft a hold on the world.)

. . . But the indisputable fact was that a taint from the Plane of Shadow remained on him, just the same; and as such, it was likely that Ravenloft and its Dark Powers, or something similar in nature, would eventually seek to lay claim to him.

And given the presence of Castlevania—to say nothing of this particular facet’s original, FromSoftware-inspired future—Zelretch couldn’t say that “eventually” couldn’t turn out to mean “within the next ten minutes.”

. . . He should do something, of course. The idea of abstract, malicious entities like the Dark Powers operating anywhere near his reality, to say nothing of his apprentice, was not something that Zelretch was willing to tolerate. Those facets of the Kaleidoscope where Foreigner-class Servants existed were bad enough! Moreover, given the Dark Powers’ usual choice of targets, it would likely eliminate a lot of magi and other supernaturals—and the chaos that would result from that would only make things worse here, even if it might be better in the long term.

But the real question was, would eliminating the boy only end up drawing their attention . . .?

And not simply in the sense of meddling with a fragment of their taint, either; the boy was innocent, even if only in regards to being aware of what he was walking around with. Killing innocents for personal gain—especially to the level that Zelretch would have to go to in order to ensure the Plane of Shadow’s energies had been entirely annihilated —was exactly the kind of thing that the Dark Powers watched for in the first place. So that they could draw in the killer, and tempt and torment them, to see whether or not they were worthy of a domain in Ravenloft . . .

Or, put another way, worthy of a prison there.

Zelretch really didn’t want to pit the Kaleidoscope against the Mists (there were so many ways he could see it going horribly wrong, even if he did overcome them) so for now, he thought it best to wait and see, much as he hated the fact. If nothing else, he didn’t want to go in blind—better to see what he could learn of the Shadow’s influence and its likely effects as well as possible weaknesses. And for that matter, whether or not he could redirect it with the Kaleidoscope, using the Seldarine’s work as a foundation.

And if so, the Wizard Marshal mused idly, could he make it funny?

But first, observation—and at a sudden spike of pain in his temples, he amended the priority list to “observation, right after I figure out what could constitute a hangover cure for a Dead Apostle.”

He was sure his apprentice could survive for at least another hour or so without his popping in . . .

. . . Right?

[Arbitrarity]

YIKES
The Dark Powers do tend to mostly affect corrupt individuals, but grabbing people via the Mists is a very capricious thing. It's supposed to be tied to the way the Plane of Shadow (and formerly, the Ethereal Plane) is coterminous with basically everything in the setting, so for it to affect things outside of a D&D-esque paradigm would mean that it incorporates Kaleidoscope effects somehow (operation of parallel universes isn't usually in the scope of D&D effects, even including the planes, and the best you can get for time travel is travelling faster/slower with some planes, and some VERY limited effects like Time Regression and Teleport Through Time, and Teleport Through Time isn't really canon, even if it is first party). The Far Realm, sure, but not things inside the Planes themselves. I would not expect the Mists to work in the Far Realm, and I would not expect an entirely non-D&D setting to be connected to the Wheel via anything but the Far Realm/Kaleidoscope. The interdimensional space Erik travelled through is not something I would expect to be in their control. That space is probably outside of the scope of Ao (or if it is, he would keep it out of the scope of everything else in the setting for the most part), unless the Kaleidoscope is only a facet of the REAL underlying interdimensional paradigm (which wouldn't be surprising, but it feels like it would be weird for the Dark Powers to be potent in an interdimensional paradigm. Interplanar, sure, but not interdimensional)

I also don't think Kurai/Frid should fall under their attention that badly normally. He has the potential to, I suppose, but he seems to be better off than Galen in terms of tendencies to do things he considers objectively evil because he's angry. I suppose given his unusual nature, though, he'd inherently be of more interest than your average werewolf, and his interdimensional nature might mean that the Powers don't so much have to act across dimensions, as act through him? That still seems like an overreach of their powers, but considering what the Seldarine did, I guess it's not impossible.

Also all of this moon stuff makes me think of Exalted, which has even more potential for spooky things.

[Kieran]

YIKES

Yup.

The Dark Powers do tend to mostly affect corrupt individuals, but grabbing people via the Mists is a very capricious thing.

Agreed - which is why the potential of it has him worried . . .

It's supposed to be tied to the way the Plane of Shadow (and formerly, the Ethereal Plane) is coterminous with basically everything in the setting, so for it to affect things outside of a D&D-esque paradigm would mean that it incorporates Kaleidoscope effects somehow

Possibly . . .

(operation of parallel universes isn't usually in the scope of D&D effects, even including the planes, and the best you can get for time travel is travelling faster/slower with some planes, and some VERY limited effects like Time Regression and Teleport Through Time, and Teleport Through Time isn't really canon, even if it is first party).

*Nods* True - but if you take each edition as, for example, a "parallel universe" - or every game run by every group in the last 45 years . . .

The Far Realm, sure, but not things inside the Planes themselves. I would not expect the Mists to work in the Far Realm, and I would not expect an entirely non-D&D setting to be connected to the Wheel via anything but the Far Realm/Kaleidoscope. The interdimensional space Erik travelled through is not something I would expect to be in their control. That space is probably outside of the scope of Ao (or if it is, he would keep it out of the scope of everything else in the setting for the most part), unless the Kaleidoscope is only a facet of the REAL underlying interdimensional paradigm (which wouldn't be surprising, but it feels like it would be weird for the Dark Powers to be potent in an interdimensional paradigm. Interplanar, sure, but not interdimensional)

All very true.

I also don't think Kurai/Frid should fall under their attention that badly normally. He has the potential to, I suppose, but he seems to be better off than Galen in terms of tendencies to do things he considers objectively evil because he's angry.

Well, not yet - partially because I want him to be a lighter character, but also because he's still adjusting to this being his new reality. Things may change, down the line.

I suppose given his unusual nature, though, he'd inherently be of more interest than your average werewolf, and his interdimensional nature might mean that the Powers don't so much have to act across dimensions, as act through him? That still seems like an overreach of their powers, but considering what the Seldarine did, I guess it's not impossible.

At the moment, it's mostly the fact that Frid has a touch of the Plane of Shadow on him. It could manifest as something of Ravenloft, lead him to develop Shadow Magic (akin to a 5th-edition sorcerer), or form a pact with the Raven Queen as a warlock - or simply leave a tendency in his fate to attract darker things (like, for example, Foreigner-class Servants?) . . .

Also all of this moon stuff makes me think of Exalted, which has even more potential for spooky things.

Indeed it does - and that was the original plan . . .

[Arbitrarity]

There are a lot of interesting parallels between the Neverborn (well, and other Primordials, but there aren't many left) and Titans, and Abyssals and Titanspawn, and Erik would certainly have a field day in Autocthonia, so I can definitely see why that would be an appealing plan.

Of course, Hel and the Raven Queen also have a fair bit in common, so that works well, thematically. I'd imagine in some universes, his "relic" would manifest like an arcane focus. Also, the Glam Sight definitely makes a lot of sense given his association with the Fey, sheesh.

EDIT:
Also, editions, at least in Faerun, mostly have explicit story transitions, things like the Time of Troubles, the Spellplague, and the Second Sundering, so there's actually temporal continuity. Furthermore, if you consider different game instances to be parallel universes, you might notice that while there are consistent characters between them, unless there's explicit continuity, you don't usually have one game instance meddling with another. Even different campaign settings are usually heavily segregated, though there are a couple of mechanisms by which you're supposed to be able to go from one version of the Prime Material to another (especially if Spelljammer or the Far Realm is invoked)

[Kieran]

There are a lot of interesting parallels between the Neverborn (well, and other Primordials, but there aren't many left) and Titans, and Abyssals and Titanspawn,

And given that Scion is seen as a "spiritual successor" to Exalted, that makes sense - of course, given that both settings are being actively produced now, I'm not sure the epithet still holds . . . Though I am sort of curious to see how well Scion Second Edition matches up with Exalted's third edition, mechanics-wise - the little I've seen of the latter suggests that they might actually be both compatible and on the same scale.

and Erik would certainly have a field day in Autocthonia, so I can definitely see why that would be an appealing plan.

Oh God, would he . . . Tamamo might never see him again.

Of course, Hel and the Raven Queen also have a fair bit in common, so that works well, thematically.

Indeed.

I'd imagine in some universes, his "relic" would manifest like an arcane focus.

Yes, that would make sense, wouldn't it?

Also, the Glam Sight definitely makes a lot of sense given his association with the Fey, sheesh.

Yup. I also thought it was a potentially neat power that wasn't too gamebreaking, and easily explained as being other things in other settings.

. . . Of course, since the Case Files episodes that showcased Glam Sight also introduced the Wild Hunt . . . Well, given Frid's associations, there's a slightly better-than-average possibility that he'll run into Lancer Artoria Alter, eventually.

EDIT:
Also, editions, at least in Faerun, mostly have explicit story transitions, things like the Time of Troubles, the Spellplague, and the Second Sundering, so there's actually temporal continuity. Furthermore, if you consider different game instances to be parallel universes, you might notice that while there are consistent characters between them, unless there's explicit continuity, you don't usually have one game instance meddling with another. Even different campaign settings are usually heavily segregated, though there are a couple of mechanisms by which you're supposed to be able to go from one version of the Prime Material to another (especially if Spelljammer or the Far Realm is invoked)

This is true (and I recently found out, has been true as far back as going from 2nd edition to 3rd) - but I was speaking a bit more broadly. Every playthrough of a module is different, even if you use the same group of players (depending on how good they are at not metagaming, anyway) more than once. Every group that tackles a setting or adventure is going to have a different experience - yet, they're all canon, in their way.

Though there is a specific example. I recently picked up the Expedition to Castle Ravenloft 3rd edition book, because I wanted to contrast it with Curse of Strahd (the 5th edition one, for those unaware) - and while the broad strokes of the story are the same, many of the details are quite different. Certain NPCs or abilities don't exist, or have been heavily altered: Strahd's intended bride, for example, is an aristocrat NPC in 5th edition (and in the original, I'm reasonably sure), but a 4th-level fighter in 3rd.

Still, roughly the same events happen, in the same order or for the same reasons - enough to make the tale the same overall, but definitely an alternative path to one another.

[Arbitrarity]

This is true (and I recently found out, has been true as far back as going from 2nd edition to 3rd) - but I was speaking a bit more broadly. Every playthrough of a module is different, even if you use the same group of players (depending on how good they are at not metagaming, anyway) more than once. Every group that tackles a setting or adventure is going to have a different experience - yet, they're all canon, in their way.

That is what I was referring to by "different game instances", and I'll agree that they can be considered parallel, but there's no reason to believe that there is interaction between those instances, or that even gods in those instances are aware of their parallel counterparts. Like, if your group has an interaction with their former PCs, it's generally understood that this is part of a continuous continuity, not an invasion from a parallel universe. That can happen, since this is an RPG, but it's fairly off the beaten path.

Though there is a specific example. I recently picked up the Expedition to Castle Ravenloft 3rd edition book, because I wanted to contrast it with Curse of Strahd (the 5th edition one, for those unaware) - and while the broad strokes of the story are the same, many of the details are quite different. Certain NPCs or abilities don't exist, or have been heavily altered: Strahd's intended bride, for example, is an aristocrat NPC in 5th edition (and in the original, I'm reasonably sure), but a 4th-level fighter in 3rd.

Still, roughly the same events happen, in the same order or for the same reasons - enough to make the tale the same overall, but definitely an alternative path to one another.

Again though, there's only one Irena in each story. Strahd doesn't exist in some weird multiverse state where he sees multiple Irenas (though there's no guarantee the Dark Powers don't, because Strahd is a prisoner, not a warden). I don't disagree with the premise that D&D can be considered to have parallel universes via different stories, but I think the setpieces (gods, Dark Powers, people) are themselves instanced for each parallel world, just like there is Apocrypha Caules, Case Files Caules, etc, and they don't seem to cross over. We don't know either way for the Dark Powers, but I don't really think it makes sense to treat them differently (I'm less sure about Elder Evils, the Far Realm, Vestiges, and other things that are explicitly flavoured to be cross-continuity)

[Kieran]

That is what I was referring to by "different game instances", and I'll agree that they can be considered parallel, but there's no reason to believe that there is interaction between those instances, or that even gods in those instances are aware of their parallel counterparts. Like, if your group has an interaction with their former PCs, it's generally understood that this is part of a continuous continuity, not an invasion from a parallel universe. That can happen, since this is an RPG, but it's fairly off the beaten path.

True - though I personally believe that, as a necessity of the position, time deities are.

Again though, there's only one Irena in each story.

Strahd doesn't exist in some weird multiverse state where he sees multiple Irenas (though there's no guarantee the Dark Powers don't, because Strahd is a prisoner, not a warden).

*Chuckles* Leaving aside the reincarnations, anyway . . .

. . . Well, that and that one module where Strahd gets split into components.

I don't disagree with the premise that D&D can be considered to have parallel universes via different stories, but I think the setpieces (gods, Dark Powers, people) are themselves instanced for each parallel world, just like there is Apocrypha Caules, Case Files Caules, etc, and they don't seem to cross over. We don't know either way for the Dark Powers, but I don't really think it makes sense to treat them differently (I'm less sure about Elder Evils, the Far Realm, Vestiges, and other things that are explicitly flavoured to be cross-continuity)

Fair enough.

[Arbitrarity]

True - though I personally believe that, as a necessity of the position, time deities are.

That is a fair and reasonable choice that I think I agree with. There aren't many deities with Time in their portfolio (particularly given how portfolios are exclusive within a pantheon in Faerun), I think only Labelas these days. Mystryl had it back in the day, but Mystra does not have it. So it definitely makes sense that Labelas actually is the one Zelretch interacts with and who has any knowledge of all these shenanigans, apart from what he reveals to the other deities. Of course, that's a pretty heavy responsibility, and necessitates a lot of secrecy, similar to Zelretch's interactions with the Nasuverse and the Works itself. It does make me wonder how such deities split their focus between continuities, though. Divine levels of cognition are always something that's difficult to imagine, since they can already split their attention many ways and automate things, yet somehow that never seems to translate into a better ability to focus on a single issue, because writers are only human.