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

[Kieran]

Well, she would be an appropriate character to come through, given what happened to her,

Indeed.

. . . Although, now that I think about it, F/GO's Olga, specifically, might be OK to bring across - if only because there's nothing she can do. The standard Fate world already has an Olga Marie, after all - and a considerably younger one, at that. I would surmise that it'd be in her interests to NOT attract the Clock Tower's attention.

Of course, the same applies to the Works, to some extent; she's a first-rate magus, we're told, but not compatible as a Master (somehow). Most of the resources Olga would normally bring to the table aren't usable for the same reasons that she'd be avoiding Clock Tower; though she undoubtedly has more knowledge of the Grail system than Rin, or Sakura - she might be able to tweak it to be more like Chaldea's?

Aside from that, of course, she's an expert diviner, which might help Ilya in refining her search procedures . . . Hm. Olga might not be a compatible Master, but what about a (Demi- or Pseudo-) Servant? Any likelihoods there?

but yeah, I would think it would be in the Works' interest to keep other organizations out. You could make use of Geas contracts for characters they might consider hazardous, though that kind of at odds with the Works' entire demeanour and approach to problems.

Yeah - not quite in the spirit I had in mind.

Before that, though, you could have a waiting room for petitioners, so as to control information about the rest of the Works' contents, nature, and membership. I think you could have some fun with that concept.

. . . You're not wrong - and it would be an opportunity for the more social but less adventurous members to do something to contribute. Hmm . . .

Hey, "appreciate" means I wasn't complaining.

And I appreciate that - though I'm still sorry I wasn't able to give you something more substantive.

It enhances the prank, particularly since we already know the secret while he doesn't, and learning more about the background of how things are or may be crossing over is useful.

That was my thought, yes.

(The power balance in this world seems very complicated)

That is an understatement that really ought to be considered a criminal offence . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Of course, the same applies to the Works, to some extent; she's a first-rate magus, we're told, but not compatible as a Master (somehow). Most of the resources Olga would normally bring to the table aren't usable for the same reasons that she'd be avoiding Clock Tower; though she undoubtedly has more knowledge of the Grail system than Rin, or Sakura - she might be able to tweak it to be more like Chaldea's?

Aside from that, of course, she's an expert diviner, which might help Ilya in refining her search procedures . . . Hm. Olga might not be a compatible Master, but what about a (Demi- or Pseudo-) Servant? Any likelihoods there?

Well, a LOT of what makes Chaldea's system work is supposedly the Round Table acting as a conceptual catalyst. The Works has the same sort of role, but doesn't actually have the item in question. I can't think of any compatible Servants that seem obvious. One of the tactician pseudo-servants (Sima Yi) might make sense, if you're restricting yourself to canon as usual. There's also the theorizing about the Priestess, so doing something like that might get you contradicted by canon later. Since Mash herself is on the Throne in your canon, you could make a pseudo-pseudo-Servant for the meme, but that seems silly.

[Kieran]

Well, a LOT of what makes Chaldea's system work is supposedly the Round Table acting as a conceptual catalyst. The Works has the same sort of role, but doesn't actually have the item in question.

Fair. In theory, the Works has Avalon - but that explains the castle and island, not the "gathering of heroes" concept.

I can't think of any compatible Servants that seem obvious.

Given the Animuspheres' Greco-Roman name and relation to the heavens, a stargazer (Copernicus, maybe?) or Olympic mythos Servant might make sense - or Aztec, given what Quetzlcoatl says about their origins . . .?

One of the tactician pseudo-servants (Sima Yi) might make sense, if you're restricting yourself to canon as usual.

Possibly - in that sense, I'd lean towards Marie Antoinette or Jeanne Alter; someone who had the best of intentions, tried to do well, but was ultimately betrayed by those they trusted. EDIT: Or, going by my above examples, Astraea, maybe . . .?

There's also the theorizing about the Priestess, so doing something like that might get you contradicted by canon later.

True - and I can see the logic behind the theory, myself. Of course, in this case (if it's true), she'll be pulled before that happens.

Since Mash herself is on the Throne in your canon, you could make a pseudo-pseudo-Servant for the meme, but that seems silly.

Yeah. Still, even as herself, there's value to her (and it's a fate she deserves more than canon, at least); and if nothing else, if we needed a Solar Exalt candidate . . . (half-kidding)

[Arbitrarity]

Given the Animuspheres' Greco-Roman name and relation to the heavens, a stargazer (Copernicus, maybe?) or Olympic mythos Servant might make sense - or Aztec, given what Quetzlcoatl says about their origins . . .?

Ah, if we're allowing ourselves a bit more freedom here, let's see. Athena exists, if you want the sort of Divine Spirit Pseudo-servant that overwrites the host (which you don't seem to). Astraeus is a figure who seems to have a very direct purview, though he's obscure enough that I don't know almost anything about him. Father of Astrea, though, and since she exists already, and you're using her, seems decent. Icarus comes to mind for some reason. Pandora and Cassandra seem somewhat relevant.

Aztecs are interesting, since they're supposed to be space bacteria or something. Their mythological system isn't one I'm terribly familiar with, though.

[Kieran]

Ah, if we're allowing ourselves a bit more freedom here, let's see. Athena exists, if you want the sort of Divine Spirit Pseudo-servant that overwrites the host (which you don't seem to).

Admittedly, it would kind of defeat the point; but it's still fun to speculate . . .

And Athena is a favourite of mine; and the recent Lostbelt even solves one of her Skills.

Spoilers for Lostbelt 5 and associated Servant(s)

Specifically, with Odysseus' inclusion, as the Aegis (the proper spelling, thank you, Japan) is typically hers to use, when Zeus isn't.

Astraeus is a figure who seems to have a very direct purview, though he's obscure enough that I don't know almost anything about him. Father of Astrea, though, and since she exists already, and you're using her, seems decent.

Nor do most people - and given Astraea's existence, using him is liable to cause at least some confusion.

Icarus comes to mind for some reason. Pandora and Cassandra seem somewhat relevant.

True - so do Semele and Hestia, for the fire references . . .

Aztecs are interesting, since they're supposed to be space bacteria or something.

Which is the reason I brought them up - given the Animuspheres' interests, and all. Admittedly, given the nature of the Olympians according to F/GO, they're about as relevant.

Their mythological system isn't one I'm terribly familiar with, though.

I don't know a great deal, myself; but Scion does contain the pantheon and information thereon, so I have places to start looking.

[Kieran]

Sighișoara, Romania
July 1, 2004








The last etchings made, Frid made a cut, and bleeding into his empty summoning circle, beginning to chant as he did so . . .

Ironically, Frid had a catalyst; he’d picked it up during a layover on his journey from the Orkneys. His pre-awakening reasoning, apparently, had been that it might be useful to the Yggdmillennia, given the scarcity of such things, after the widescale distribution of the Heaven’s Feel ritual; and if not, it would be an interesting, if macabre, souvenir. Post-awakening, he’d still intended to hand it over—even if the Servant it would almost certainly summon was no better than Jack the Ripper, the newcomer was (probably) more reliable . . .

And then Fiore had made her request before he could even mention it, and rendered the catalyst useless. For one thing, the Assassin slot was probably already filled (unless Zelretch had intervened to take out the unholy love-child of EMIYA and Kotomine Kirei), and for another, that one wasn’t at all compatible with him.

Some of the other versions, maybe—but I’m not sure any of them would be strong enough to survive this . . . Which means I’m stuck relying on the compatibility system.

Even as he began the incantation, Frid wondered—what sort of Servant was compatible with a Master who intended to betray his comrades in spirit, if not in fact, from the beginning? He had no particular interest in the Grail, himself, and no reason to care whether the Association or the Yggdmillennia wound up with it in the end; at least, not insofar as it was kept out of the hands of Kotomine Shirou or “Count Darnicula . . .”

Shirou—the real Shirou, to his mind—would’ve approved of that, he thought.

His only concern in this affair beyond that was regarding Fiore’s wellbeing, and to a slightly lesser extent, Caules’; only “slightly,” because he did like the kid, and Fiore’s was, obviously, invested in it.

So who will it be? Normally, I’d expect Hans, but under these circumstances? Medea was the betrayed, not the betrayer . . . Lancelot, maybe—or, since Mordred is a thing here, maybe her? It’d be nice to try and get her past her gender hang-up . . .








By its very nature, the Throne of Heroes existed outside of the normal boundaries of time and space. This was what allowed it to contain records on all Heroic Spirits; past, present and future. When contacted for a summoning, this nature allowed its records to know the nature of a catalyst used, and which sources to consult when compatibility was the judging criterion.

And as it happened, some of those sources were on a similar level . . .




[B] Contact established; analysing . . . Contact validity verified. Uploading data packet; upload complete. Analysing . . .

[Authority: Moon] detected. Category: [Administrator] confirmed. Quality: confirmed. Creating profile . . .

Profile: [Holy Grail War Master/Administrator/Special_Access/B] created. Analysing request . . .

Alert! Received data indicates potential conflict resolution measure:

[Conflict: 201303282030EXCCC_SM/01-06]
[Conflict: 201303282030EXCCC_SM/01-06/GO_20170501]
[Conflict: 201611102030EX_US/V02]

Analysing profile compatibility . . .

Confirmed. Solution created. Run? [Y]

Initialising [Rayshift.EXE] . . .








“. . . From the binding circle,” he finished in a thundering tone, “thou, Guardian of the Scales!”

Blazing light filled his vision, but his Mystic Eyes “saw” through the blindness, which revealed—

Sakura . . .?!

Any further thought on the implications of that were derailed, however, when the girl in question opened her mouth, and SCREAMED in existential horror.

“I’m MEAT?!”

Quick as a flash, even with his Eyes’ ability to process high-speed movement, she lunged at him, hands outstretched—

And latched onto him like a drowning man clutched a life-preserver.

“Sempai? You feel like Sempai, somehow—doesn’t matter, HELP ME! I’m made of meat, now, and I can’t access the Moon Cell, and thereareTHINGSmovinginmychest, AND I DON’T WANT TO BE MEAT . . .!”

Frid’s immediate attempts to answer were choked off, literally, by the death-grip she had on his torso—as it was, he could barely manage to raise his one free hand and pat her back in an attempt at reassurance.

And while his lungs sending making alarming signals about the sudden decrease in available oxygen, and his ribs made alarming sounds about their inability to stay intact under this level of pressure, Frid decided he wanted a refund on his Mystic Eyes.

Allows me to “see and comprehend things the brain can’t,” my ass—there’s no way to explain THIS . . .!

[Xamusel]

Okay, is this Servant Moon Cancer or someone else we should be scared of?

[Kieran]

Okay, is this Servant Moon Cancer or someone else we should be scared of?

It's BB-chan - with the added bonus that the Moon Cell pasted the data of those split-off Alter Egos back into her, just so it could be rid of everything all at once.

Her actual Class here would be Caster, since she's "a black magic kouhai" in a non-digital environment, but at the moment she's too busy dealing with the Tiamat of all panic attacks at suddenly being MEAT!

Rin is going to have an aneurysm dealing with this, and Sakura might spontaneously go Dark Sakura (yes, it's impossible in the Works universe, but she'd do it anyway out of sheer mortification) just to get rid of this embarrassment.

[Xamusel]

LOL!! XD I approve wholeheartedly.

[Arbitrarity]

This Omake, the redux, then?
Also, Servants aren't exactly meat, though she'd be closer to meat than normal, at least. I also don't really know much about the other 2-3 Alter Egos (Violet/Kazuradrop, and kind of Kingprotea), though I'd imagine BB would basically end up being the dominant personality in any sort of mix.

[Kieran]

LOL!! XD I approve wholeheartedly.

I'm glad you do - though the idea is certainly terrifying on several levels.

This Omake, the redux, then?

Essentially, though definitely with a different starting relationship.

Also, Servants aren't exactly meat, though she'd be closer to meat than normal, at least.

Yeah - instead of "a bunch of data that's represented by a human form," she's gone from a bodiless (and near-omnipotent) AI to something that's (essentially) flesh-and-blood (and obviously, not taking it well). I can sort of see her point; from an objective viewpoint, biology is largely gross, inefficient, and so unlike a digital existence, however good an imitation SERAPH might be, that it'd be like us waking up to find we'd become a plant, with all the senses and limitations that implied.

I also don't really know much about the other 2-3 Alter Egos (Violet/Kazuradrop, and kind of Kingprotea),

There's not a lot of any of them, no.

though I'd imagine BB would basically end up being the dominant personality in any sort of mix.

Yes, since they were allessentially parts of her own personality matrix that she split off as being "unnecessary," much like Nurse Sakura did with her in the first place (hence their classification as Alter Egos). All their abilities came from BB's tinkering with them afterwards.

In this case, BB's a "real girl" again, with all her emotions and emotional capacity back to normal; the problem (to her mind) is that she's physically a "real girl," and that part basically has her going "Oh, Moon Cell - WHHHYYYYY?!"

. . . Amusingly, she and Sieg would either be best friends, or natural enemies; at the very least, there'd be some interesting conversations.

Otherwise, her only way out of this (and back to normality, or what passes for it for her) is her Master and winning the Grail - which is going to be a lot harder without her hacking abilities. Thankfully, there is a sort-of magus template she can use (the human her original data was based on), and her Personal Skills aren't totally gone, just weirdly warped in this new environment, all of which provided the foundation for her Caster class manifestation.

(Now, if only she could figure out why her new "Master" reminds her of Sempai - and all four of them . . .?)

[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
July 4, 2004









As she strode through the corridors of the battleship in search of Godafrid (well, actually, she knew where he was; she was just “looking” to give Fiore time with him first), one question dominated Rin’s thoughts.

How, the Japanese magus wondered, could she get Godafrid to marry her . . .?

“. . . What.”

The deadpan response from her astralised Servant made Rin abruptly realise that she’d said that out loud—and she hastily engaged in damage control.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that!” she blurted. “Marriage is only the backup plan, anyways!”

After a moment, Archer sighed. “. . . OK, as well as I know you, even I’m going to need some context for that decision.”

“When he first turned up at our doorstep—after we’d fixed his issues,” Rin added hastily, “he had almost eleven million yen in gold coins on him. Here, he gave up three and a half billion yen, apparently with the full expectation he could make it back.”

Rin stopped walking, and put her hand on her hip as she glared (even if she had to guess at Archer’s exact location) and demanded, “Do you realise the amount of research I could get done with that kind of money?!”

There was a pause, and she could almost see the smirk forming on his face. “. . . Ah—that kind of reasoning does sound like you.”

“Shut up!” she snapped, fighting down a blush. “I’m serious! I know it’s not part of his original identity, because he looked totally middle-class when he wasn’t changing into an extra from one of those hobbit movies. That means it’s some factor he’s picked up as a result of changing worlds—and potentially replicable by the Kaleidoscope, if I can figure out what it is, and how it works.”

Rin lost herself for a moment, in visions of not having to scrimp for every yen she had every day—of being able to afford some of the higher-quality gemstones, in quantity, and damn the cost . . . Finally, after years of frugality, of hard-learned stinginess, she could at least scratch “poor” off the list of reasons the Clock Tower was liable to look down on her; and possibly even ignore them entirely, because she wouldn’t need access to their resources to get anywhere.

“All right,” Archer allowed. “I can see the logic of your reasoning, but I’m not sure how you managed to jump from that to marriage.”

“Simple,” Rin replied. “If I can’t figure out how to turn myself into a walking mint, then I need to make sure I keep hold of the keys to this one. That means either marriage, or adoption—and since I haven’t figured out how to get Sakura back into the family yet, there’s no point in trying with him.”

Not to mention, of course, the fact that her sister might take a total stranger being brought in before her quite badly—assuming, of course, that she wanted to be a Tohsaka again at all . . .

“You realise, of course, that if you actually go through with that, you’re surrendering all claims to the idiot?” her Servant pointed out, and she winced inwardly.

“It’ll be good for Sakura . . .” Rin said flatly, even as she felt her face start burning.

Another sigh (which sounded really strange from an astralised being, over a telepathic link) was the only answer she received . . . For a moment, at least. Then, all of a sudden, she could feel that damned smirk again.

“What?” the Japanese magus demanded.

“It just occurred to me that you’re going to have to be really careful in how you go about your ‘research,’” he said blandly. “After all, if Ilya-chan, Sakura-chan—or, say, Taiga—hear that you cornered the man, stripped him down, strapped him to a table and had your wicked way with him . . .”

At his phrasing, Rin’s face passed “burning” and “inferno,” going straight to “volcanic.”

“Well, your plans won’t matter then,” Archer continued in a too-casual tone, “because you’ll be marrying him whether you want to or not.”

“. . . So help me God, Shirou,” Rin sputtered once her brain had restarted, “I will use a Command Spell to shut you up—again . . . !”








Chiron, why on earth would you bring that up?

Fiore hated how mortified she sounded, even in her own thoughts. It was an accurate reflection of her feelings, mind you, but she hated that it was so obvious even in the relative privacy of her own mind—how obvious must it be to everyone else, then?

Nevertheless, she persisted in her demand for an answer; if nothing else, the centaur had behaved remarkably out-of-character in making such a slip (however apologetic he’d appeared afterwards), and she wanted to know why.

“I deeply regret your embarrassment, Master,” he answered sincerely, “but the revelation was calculated on my part. I don’t know enough of her cultural norms to accurately judge her reactions—but based on experience, Miss Tohsaka’s response to learning of your engagement was far too calm; it suggests either prior knowledge, or premeditation. I was hoping to provoke her into a response which at least might give me a better scale by which to judge her; at best, she would confess any misdeed on her faction’s behalf . . .”

It would not at all be exaggerating to say that Fiore’s heart leapt into her throat at his explanation.

You think that Godafrid has betrayed me . . .?

“I would not go that far, yet, Master,” Chiron cautioned. “Nevertheless, there are signs with the Tohsaka girl that this was unremarkable—perhaps even anticipated—and I do not like them. I require more information to render any sort of certain judgement, but I am of the belief that there is something more going on than we are presently seeing . . .”

Fiore frowned to herself. As much as she knew, intellectually, that they were on opposite sides, she didn’t want to believe the Tohsaka heiress guilty of wrongdoing; in their discussions, the other girl had come across as knowledgeable, intelligent, and curious—in short, quite the opposite of beliefs regarding “backwards Orientals.” And their discussions, while guarded, had been refreshingly absent the usual “sheathed daggers” aspect that was usually present in her social discourse with her peers amongst the Clock Tower. While Fiore recognised it was optimistic of her, she liked to think that, absent the complications of the Great Holy Grail War, she and Miss Tohsaka might have become friends . . .

(Elsewhere, for no discernible reason, Rin suddenly felt incredibly guilty.)

By the same token, Fiore admitted to herself, the centaur Chiron was renowned in legend for his insight and wisdom; her role as a Master was to anchor and guide him, but if she wasn’t willing to listen to his advice, what was the point of summoning him in the first place . . .?

(Somewhere else entirely, and also for no discernible reason, Gordes abruptly felt that he’d been insulted, somehow.)

She brought her wheelchair to a dead stop as the obvious question occurred to her. The question she didn’t want to hear the answer to (even though she’d asked before, the wording had been ambiguous enough to be misinterpreted, wilfully or otherwise), but the magus in her had to ask, just the same.

“Do you think he’s cheating on me?”

Fiore forced herself to speak the words aloud, though just hearing them on the air was painful; but she’d given too much leeway to her heart, of late, and this situation demanded that she use her head.

It was to her credit, then, that her voice was only a little uneven as she asked.

“Contrary to the expectations of my time, no,” Chiron answered with remarkable gentility. “If the Olympians were still active . . . Well, Aphrodite will have her way, regardless, and Eros very seldom refused her orders—but based on my observations thus far, your betrothed seems remarkably faithful; both to you, and to the image of him presented by others.

“Which is where my uncertainty lies,” he admitted. “By all accounts, there is little to nothing he would not do to protect you; like Orpheus, Godafrid would descend to the depths of Hades, if necessary. And unlike Orpheus, I trust that he would not falter in the final stretch . . . But I do not know whether he could succeed where Orpheus did in convincing Lord Hades to release you in the first place—and I worry that likewise, whatever gambit or stratagem he may be employing here is a case where his reach exceeds his grasp . . .”

Fiore had the sense of the astralised centaur shaking his head, even though she couldn’t see it for herself, as he concluded, “I simply do not have enough information yet to make sense of the tangle before us.”

Fiore took a deep breath, let it out slowly—and then did it again.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said firmly, as much to herself as to Archer (because she very much wanted to pin Godafrid down and interrogate him, even as she was still worried about him). “We have Dead Apostles in the area, we still have Assassin of Red and her Master to worry about, and potentially that divine artefact that’s sealed itself away—and somewhere in the midst of all that, there’s still a Holy Grail War to finish . . .”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “It was not supposed to happen this way.”

Privately, Fiore asked herself how she thought the War was supposed to play out—and, knowing some of the things she did now, along with things she hadn’t wanted to know, how it likely would have.

The Yggdmillennia Clan was her home, her family; they’d taken her and Caules in when the Forvedge siblings had nothing, and treated her overall far better than many “noble” magi would have. She’d seen enough of them in Clock Tower to know that with certainty. Granted, she didn’t always agree with the attitudes or personalities of the others (Celenike was particularly on her mind with that thought), but not all family members always got along, and it was far less quarrelsome issue than it could have been. Even (or perhaps especially) without magecraft being involved . . .

And yet, now that she’d had time to consider the matter, Fiore was horrified at the implications that Grandfather had turned himself into some form of Dead Apostle; horrified, but not terribly surprised.

After all, while she’d never inquired into the means of his longevity, her own studies implied that most such methods were inherently unsavoury, at best, and outright offensive to her own sensibilities at worst—and that was putting it mildly. Darnic had already proven himself to be an archetypical magus in many ways—why not in this area, as well? Which of course left the question of what his “ideal” outcome for the Holy Grail War would’ve been, precisely; after all, with fourteen participating Servants, one could theoretically reach the Root twice over, or grant at least two wishes, and possibly as many as four . . .

Of course, that was assuming that one cared about granting any wish other than theirs.

It requires the energies of six Servants to materialise the Grail, and seven, supposedly, to open a path directly to the Root, Fiore recalled what they’d been told, but looking it over with a more critical eye than she had at the time.

But the Greater Grail was already materialised from the previous War—and even if it lost power by being disconnected and moved, it was still in a material form. Assuming that Grandfather merely waited the sixty-year interval to make certain that it was fully charged and lay preparations, why not simply summon a single Servant, order them to suicide, and be done with it? So long as the Grail is energised enough to be material, then it shouldn’t matter, should it?

Perhaps the act of moving it required the ritual to be done again, in order to properly feed it energy? Fiore reasoned. Or resets its “counter,” somehow? All right, that’s possible, but it’s still only seven Servants’ worth of energy to reach the Root; why wouldn’t Grandfather simply have had us summon ours and order them to fight each other, or suicide? Why go to the trouble of setting up to fight a second group of Servants, challenge the Clock Tower—

The young magus sat bolt upright in her chair, as thinking of the Clock Tower recalled Godafrid’s trial in absentia to her mind, as well—and with that, an answer:

He needed someone to blame.

To reach the Root was the ultimate goal of all magi, but no one truly knew what would happen if it actually occurred. There were theories that the last True Magic wielders were connected to it somehow, but personally, Fiore doubted them. After all, it was common knowledge that the Einzberns had created the Holy Grail War Ritual for the purpose of regaining the Third Magic; if they had somehow managed to reach the Root by possessing it, she believed they wouldn’t have failed to make that known, as well—and taken full advantage of it at the time they had it.

Regardless of the truth, there was no way of predicting what would happen if someone did manage the feat; managed to access the source of all knowledge, and everything else, as well. But for herself, Fiore could recall theoretically debating the outcome with Godafrid in the Clock Tower’s library, and his theory regarding the potential effect of the devaluation of mysteries when all mysteries were known, by even one person . . .

He had argued—quite eloquently, she had to admit—that in reaching the Root, magic itself would cease to be. Because once anyone had learned all the Mysteries of the World, what power did magic, which was mysterious by definition, hold?

Personally, Fiore doubted that any potential consequences would be as catastrophic as that; but neither could she wholly deny the possibility. And in the event of that, or a similar such outcome—whether of global or local scale—people would come looking for the parties responsible for it. Even if it didn’t go that badly, or if Darnic failed outright, the Clock Tower, at least, would be looking for scapegoats.

And there we would be, Fiore thought dazedly. Six magi, renegades of the Clock Tower, of no particularly valuable or important lineage or quality—practically gift-wrapped for anyone who wanted us . . .

(She knew firsthand, after all, that the Clock Tower wasn’t interested so much in the facts of a case so long as the narrative suited their purposes.)

From the very beginning, we were nothing more than sacrifices . . .

“Master?” Chiron inquired urgently. “What’s wrong?”

It took several moments for Fiore to explain her thoughts, even telepathically—not due to lag in the method of communication, but in the need to compose herself enough to convey them. As she did so, some small part of hoped that her Servant, legendary for his wisdom, would refute her conclusions . . . But alas, her hopes died unrealised.

“I cannot fault your reasoning, Master,” the Archer said grimly. “It may be, of course, that we are surmising based on incomplete or inaccurate information; as I’ve stated before, I’ve no real knowledge of the politics of this era, and they were never my focus within my own. It would be the height of hubris, then, to assume omniscience on my part, or an inability to be mistaken . . . But what I do know of authorities in general, and of those that flout them, agrees with your logic—as does what I observed of Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia himself.”

Fiore sagged in her chair. She’d so very wanted to be wrong . . .

Caules is safe, she reminded herself. At least I did that much right.

She would berate herself for needing help to do it later.

“. . . Archer,” she said aloud, because this needed to be said aloud, “Given the current circumstances, I find that I cannot in good conscience continue fighting in the Holy Grail War.

“I will offer my Command Spells to Roche,” she continued, “because he may wish to avenge Caster, regardless—but I’m afraid that there’s a very good chance the Black Faction may concede the War, once the truth is known. “ She turned to where she believed her Servant was standing, though it was hard to be sure, with the way the quickly-forming tears were clouding her vision over.

“I’m sorry Chiron,” Fiore whispered, “but I just can’t—”

“Fiore,” Archer interrupted her, materialising as he did so—and it was the unexpected use of her name, as much as it was the firmness of his tone, which focussed her attention.

“In this, too,” he said gently, lifting her chin and wiping her eyes, “I understand your reasoning. Moreover, I approve; I am as proud of you, and your wisdom, as of any student I have ever had—and you know that is no claim to make lightly.

“But you are thinking too far ahead, in this case,” he said. “After all, before any decisions can be made regarding the fate of the Holy Grail War, or mine within it, there is a more immediate matter to be dealt with.” His expression hardened. “I admit to knowing little of Dead Apostles, and less still of this ‘Castlevania’ which is at the centre of this; but in that, Master, I am content to rely on your direction and judgement—it has served in good stead, thus far.”

Fiore blinked, her eyes going wide. “You’re . . . You’re still willing to—?”

Chiron smiled. “I would trust few others in this time and place besides you, Fiore—and none more than you.”

Fiore felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders . . . Or maybe it was all the blood rushing to her face. Her throat seemed suddenly clogged with cotton, as she couldn’t quite manage to say ‘thank you,’ no matter how she tried—and she suddenly felt so lightheaded, she nearly missed his next statement (though perhaps Chiron’s sudden smile had something to do with that, as well).

“Truth be told, Master, I should be thanking you for this opportunity—I was renowned for training many heroes in my lifetime, yet never managed to take to the field myself . . .

“And I find that I am quite looking forward to it.”








Rendezvous Point Alpha
Outside Trifas








Erik looked at the man holding Aestus Estus.

There were subtle differences from the form of the man who’d introduced himself as “Frid”; strangely enough, that wasn’t a sarcastic crack about the tattoos, either. He looked a bit younger, and a bit bulkier, but had the bearing of an older man, just the same . . . Still, divine senses, to say nothing of long experience with shapeshifters and illusionists—his wife foremost among them, but this one had actually been the first—allowed him to confirm that it was the same individual.

(The fact that the sword hadn’t burned him to ash for handling it without permission was also a clue, of course.)

The tattoos, now—those Erik found fascinating . . .

The patterns were glyphic, in a sense, but of no runic language he knew of. Just the same, the shaping of them suggested an elven hand behind it, rather than human; he’d spent enough time in Svartalfheim to recognise the differences in styling. But even more interesting, from his point of view, was the metal they were made of. It was a silver-based compound, certainly, but the spectrographic readings that he could see implied that it was more, somehow. Purer than pure silver, if that could be said to make any sense. And its state was equally strange—much too fluid, almost like the metal was in liquid form; but with no means of suspension, how was it staying on his skin, much less in a pattern? And when he looked deeper, he got the impression that someone had, on a conceptual level, melted the Moon itself down into silver . . .

Weird stuff—and the engineer in him was dying to get a sample to play with, already thinking of possible applications just on what he could see it being capable of without the kind of testing he could actually put it through . . . Oh, and the guy’s eyes were glowing; Erik supposed that was important too, somehow.

(Really, given who and what he was and what he dealt with, eye-lights were a dime a dozen, so he hadn’t actually given it much thought—or any, in truth.)

Dismissing that fact, he focussed instead on the other Relic in the room; the one he hadn’t made . . . No—it wasn’t quite a Relic, was it?

Erik frowned. The whip was made of another entirely new material; one that would look completely non-reflective to mortal eyes, but held an impression of agonised human faces to his own. It was definitely divinely-crafted (not even dwarf-crafted, flat-out divine; he could tell the difference) but, try though he might, the Wolfson could not detect the slightest link to a God—whatever properties it held were entirely due to the item itself.

That was rare, that a God would create something that could be used by mortals—rarer than even a Relic. And because the general technique of its forging pointed to a Nordic origin, and most of those were crafted by dwarves at the Aesir’s behest, that made it rarer still; he and Wayland were the only ones to create Relics themselves, generally. Moreover, given the general aesthetic of both the design and material, it was fairly easy to guess which God had forged it—and while Erik could accept the idea of her gifting something to her consort, Hel had never shown any inclination, much less talent, for actually creating such things . . .

He was suddenly reminded of why he’d simultaneously liked and hated dealing with Krampus. They were both intellectuals in a pantheon dominated by jocks; but with him, there was always another surprise, somewhere, waiting to be sprung. Personally, Erik had always figured that Hel’s relationship with him had come down to daddy issues on her part, as much as anything else—

His musings were interrupted as the shifting in biorhythms indicated “Godafrid” was coming out of his trance state; and from the slight shaking of his head, trying to deal with a sudden case of tinnitus.

Erik grinned at the sight. “Nero” must have been singing—I love it when a plan comes together . . .

Aloud, however, he said only, “So—you ready to really talk, now?”










Writer's Notes: And behold - a second chapter, ahead of RanmaBushiko! . . . I really must have too much time on my hands.

. . . Still, while some of this chapter came as a surprise to even me, I approve of the developments, and hope you do the same. Even if not, enjoy!

[Arbitrarity]

Truly a tragedy that you don't have free time normally.

Really interesting chapter start with the narrative omission. I always think it's interesting when you exclude information like that, though this reveal is fast enough that it's just funny, instead of dramatic.

Chiron doesn't really understand how to interpret tsunderes. Interesting that Fiore goes straight to withdrawing, it definitely seems premature, so I can see why Chiron is dissuading her. She still has objectives, even if she's not really interested in winning for Darnic at this point. I'm not sure if her assessment about Darnic's political motivation for challenging the Association is correct, though as Chiron says, it would be entirely in-character for him.

I also don't think I agree with Godafrid's argument about access to the Root, since the decline of Mystery seems to have to do with the collective beliefs of mankind and revealing secrets to many, than any specific person knowing things. Then again, since reaching the Root is typically pretty hazardous and has tends to cause people to vanish, I can't blame him for making cautious and plausible arguments.

Erik's ability to appraise things seems as accurate as I'd expect. Only makes sense for someone with as much familiarity with technology and materials as he has to be able to identify the nature of things.

[Kieran]

Truly a tragedy that you don't have free time normally.

The benefit of imposed isolation - and being able to cope with it, unlike some people in my house.

Really interesting chapter start with the narrative omission. I always think it's interesting when you exclude information like that, though this reveal is fast enough that it's just funny, instead of dramatic.

That was kind of the intention, so it's good to hear.

Chiron doesn't really understand how to interpret tsunderes.

Even Clairvoyance has its limits.

Interesting that Fiore goes straight to withdrawing, it definitely seems premature, so I can see why Chiron is dissuading her. She still has objectives, even if she's not really interested in winning for Darnic at this point.

True - but even she admits, from the beginning, that her wish is selfish. Her enthusiasm for the task always seemed muted, to me; done as much or more for Darnic and her family as for herself. And when things really started going to hell, it was as much because she felt it was her responsibility to clean it up.

I'm not sure if her assessment about Darnic's political motivation for challenging the Association is correct, though as Chiron says, it would be entirely in-character for him.

And it's entirely possible I'm wrong; though it would explain why the Grail's functions are so drastically different in Apocrypha than in any other Fate work. I mean, I get that it's to explain why there are fourteen Servants (and Ruler), but if you've read Trinity, you know how I feel about plot holes . . .

The really amusing thing is, I didn't actually plan for that scene; I just started writing, looked up after a while, and found that Fiore had run away with things on me.

I also don't think I agree with Godafrid's argument about access to the Root, since the decline of Mystery seems to have to do with the collective beliefs of mankind and revealing secrets to many, than any specific person knowing things. Then again, since reaching the Root is typically pretty hazardous and has tends to cause people to vanish, I can't blame him for making cautious and plausible arguments.

It comes down to the fact that no one knows, in the end. And given the often-depressing nature of the Nasuverse's metaphysics, I actually could see that happening . . .

Erik's ability to appraise things seems as accurate as I'd expect. Only makes sense for someone with as much familiarity with technology and materials as he has to be able to identify the nature of things.

Yup.

[RanmaBushiko]

Truly a tragedy that you don't have free time normally.

Really interesting chapter start with the narrative omission. I always think it's interesting when you exclude information like that, though this reveal is fast enough that it's just funny, instead of dramatic.

Chiron doesn't really understand how to interpret tsunderes. Interesting that Fiore goes straight to withdrawing, it definitely seems premature, so I can see why Chiron is dissuading her. She still has objectives, even if she's not really interested in winning for Darnic at this point. I'm not sure if her assessment about Darnic's political motivation for challenging the Association is correct, though as Chiron says, it would be entirely in-character for him.

I also don't think I agree with Godafrid's argument about access to the Root, since the decline of Mystery seems to have to do with the collective beliefs of mankind and revealing secrets to many, than any specific person knowing things. Then again, since reaching the Root is typically pretty hazardous and has tends to cause people to vanish, I can't blame him for making cautious and plausible arguments.

Erik's ability to appraise things seems as accurate as I'd expect. Only makes sense for someone with as much familiarity with technology and materials as he has to be able to identify the nature of things.

I'll agree on how little free time we've wound up with. Last week (not this last week, the one before) had me writing up 18 pages worth of stuff as the rotating GM, because I'm not skilled enough at being the GM to handle the "ensuring the game will go on no matter how much off the rails it goes" without dozens of extra route notes, etc. As for my chapter? Should be up tomorrow, with luck. 5 pages left, and most of it is action.

Chiron is amusing here, not understanding tsunderes, though I'm liking this version of Fiore much, much more than canon Apocrypha's (not that I'm saying I didn't. She was adorable in it, and a pretty decent badass in some scenes). There's reasons why I'm in the boat of "Fiore should work/travel with Godafrid" from now on, and with how Kieran writes her...

As for access to the Root? Who knows?

Also yes, just because I'm not writing it, doesn't mean Erik isn't goddamned terrifying if he wants to be. Especially for analyzing divine materials, technology and relics, and their weak points. Erik was literally one coin's toss away from saying "Okay, Fenris? You don't want to work with me? Fuck it. Let me at your chains anyways and help you escape, then we'll talk..." and bolting afterwards with Fenris in tow, irregardless of how he'd fuck the pantheon over, the entire game.

And if Fenris insisted Erik work as a foe of the Gods, and the Norse Pantheon? There was a damned good chance of him actually listening and doing it. Because Erik, as the Norse God of Paranoia, was sufficiently paranoid to not even remember that Odin likely would want him alive to convince Fenris to not eat him, and was working out how to try and drive off the entire damned Pantheon long enough to escape if Fenris said "No. I want to eat them anyways.".

Between the planned Colony Drop attempt (look up Operation British from the recent Gundam Origin movies, and you'll get it immediately) via Wolf Home on Asgard as a distraction if things DID go that route, as well as the Wolfen doubling as an escape ship? It would have likely been an epic way to die, if nothing else. Quickly to KILL Erik and co. But epic.

Half mile space station/death egg/death star style sphere of doom versus Asgard via being dropped from space. It was one crazy, stupid plan, but he came up with it. And it may have actually worked form the sheer novelty of it, too...

Now, back to more writing.

[Kieran]

though I'm liking this version of Fiore much, much more than canon Apocrypha's (not that I'm saying I didn't. She was adorable in it, and a pretty decent badass in some scenes). There's reasons why I'm in the boat of "Fiore should work/travel with Godafrid" from now on, and with how Kieran writes her...

And suddenly, so much becomes clear . . .

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 62: Wars and Swords, Tears and Blood







Trifas, Romania
Approaching Yggdmillenia Castlevania's Gates






“Why,” Godafrid almost growls, ferally, before folding his arms to stare at Erik as he continues, “did you do that?”



Erik sighs, as he studies Godafrid. “Look, let's be perfectly honest: you tended to be a bit of a trickster asshole back then, and so it's fair for me to prank you on occasion in return. At least it isn't Fenris' ideas of a prank, so you lucked out on that front. But do you really think I'd do you wrong? I took Olga and Mash on a road trip, and wound up near Rome. While I was there, I tested my sunglasses, and found Nero's grave, complete with her sword, and some other items, even if most were ruins of their former selves.”



Erik stretches, studying Godafrid closely as he continues, “So, remembering that you liked Fate/Extra and Nero before, EMIYA and I set up a half-prank, half-user’s manual, using memories of how the sword was wielded, to make a built-in user's guide copy of the original as an illusion for you. Almost everything else went into enhancing its flame attribute to the point where it can change shape into other equipment. Crossbows that shoot fire 'arrows', whips; you name it, it can turn into it.”



Godafrid folds his arms. “So why is your ‘illusory copy’ singing at me, Erik? I know your ideas of ‘upgrades’ all too damned well, you know—there’s no need to be that accurate for a ‘user’s manual’ on swordplay.”



Erik chuckles at that. “Doesn't she tend to sing in Fate/Extra or the commercials for Fate/Grand Order, Godafrid? Why wouldn't she sing? Of course, the bonus of you alone being able to hear her is just a nice side-effect, but it ensures you have a qualified teacher to help you learn how to use the blade better, much like Scáthach gave me tips for swords, spears, and Geas contracts while I studied under her for a while.”



“If you were aiming for accuracy, then the historical Nero was renowned for the talent; damn Nasu’s habit of twisting history...” Godafrid mutters bitterly. “She scared the living shit out of me when I first picked it up—I’m not entirely sure that you realize what you’ve done. And she wouldn't stop singing...!”



“Considering how many times you let us think you were dead, I think it's perfectly damned fair that you get to deal with a tone-deaf singing Nero Claudius,” Erik rebuts him, folding his arms. “You know, rather than what Tamamo and Fenris thought I should have done to you. And the only reason why you're getting off easy on that front is Fiore.”



Godafrid flinches slightly, and sighs. “I'm not likely to remember that. As I said before involving things—”



“Let's be perfectly honest. You don't remember a lot of shit. Like you dragging Hel into those weekly D&D sessions with the rest of us, after things settled down. Or that ‘Call of Cthulhu’ game that you ended up accidentally addicting most of Svartalfheim to, and the eldritch abomination summoned by that Svartalfar wizard as a result... So let me ask you this, and ask it plainly.

“Were we characters from another game system, another game campaign?” Erik asks, quietly. “You know I'm likely to tell if you're lying. So please, tell me the truth—now, or when you can...”



A grinding sound hits their ears as the castle gates slowly open, and a flood of the Dead swarm out towards everyone nearby.



“Tch—we'll continue this later, but I'd like to have answers sooner or later...” Erik sighs, and moves forwards, Raika igniting once more. “Before I forget, would you have any idea why my prototype Cosmoreactor is only working with swords and ships?”



“Well, considering it was built to be used by Saber classes?” Godafrid smirks, uncurling his whip from around his arm, and then focusing his will on Aestus Estus, the sword turning into a second whip that burns with an eternal fire. “I always tried to point out that you should train with your sword more, didn't I? Gosh, bet you're regretting not following a more traditional path now, aren't you?”



“You never said...!” Erik snarls, before catching himself. “Ah, fuck it—we'll discuss this shit later, hmm? Still, if it's meant to work with swords, how the hell is your Servant using it for her armor...?”
The latter is spoken to himself, as he rushes into combat once more, even as he hears a follow-up from Godafrid.



“Time to see how much of Kratos’ style actually possible…”









Eventually, Erik sighs, looking over the carnage as he rubs his forehead. “Shit—how many did the bastard turn?”



“I was asking myself that an hour ago,” Godafrid points out to Erik dryly. “We'll only be able to counter it in the long run by killing him, you know—not that it would be easy...”



“Fair point, I suppose.” Erik sighs softly, and resumes his march forwards. “Damned assholes are a pain in our ass, though...”



“Don't I know it,” Godafrid sighs while following Erik. “So, why does this thing have multiple forms?”



“My own talent with forging and crafting things interacted oddly with the blade, enhancing the flame attribute until it became malleable somehow. Not sure how to control it, exactly, but I think you'll have better luck, especially with that silver you've got over there. For that matter, I wouldn't mind getting the recipe for whatever the hell that silver you're wearing is. I can smell its Legend from here.”



“Why the hell would you even want the recipe?” Godafrid glances at Erik's back, pointedly. “You've got plenty of materials, don't you?”



“I'm running pretty damned low, and that bullshit Chest of Wonders is full of pink goop, rather than useful materials now.” Erik admits. “Meteorite Iron, I've got about 2 tons left. Which might sound like a lot, until you realize the entire damned hull of my Wolfen is MADE of the stuff.”



“Fair,” Godafrid admits. “Well, I'm not sure how much you'll get use you’ll get out of it, since it’s specifically designed to sync with powers like mine, but I do know the recipe, and ones for a couple of other materials in the same vein. Including this stuff”—he lifted the black whip, the movement causing it to make a noise like a death-rattle—“though I don’t think you’ll want to make it once you know how...” He shrugged. “I’ll write them down once we're through this mess.



“Now why the hell are they being so quiet?” Godafrid mutters, eyes keenly watching the general area. “Given the frankly ridiculous numbers they’ve managed to throw at us so far—not to mention the fact that Castlevania runs on horror movie clichés—I really doubt that was the last of them.”



“Luring us into a sense of strength while waiting to drop the hammer on us, probably in an ambush,” Erik pauses, thinking. “Aside from that, shouldn't you hide those marks on you before Fiore sees them? I'm not sure how the hell you're going to explain them, otherwise...”



Godafrid stops. “Whoops—almost forgot. Thanks.”



He focuses, form shifting and flesh blanking, while Erik frowns. “Fiore's nearby, as well. You talk with her and Chiron, while I get a couple calls out, hmm? Then we'll go in and kill that bastard slowly.”



With that, Erik moves off for a bit, pulling his phone out to be a pain in the ass.









The Hanging Gardens
A Bench in the Gardens









“So—our first attempt at a date.” Semiramis smiles softly, offering Shirou a glass of wine, as they sit and watch the clouds together.



“Thank you, Semiramis.” Shirou takes a drink, gently. “I'll admit, this is helping me rest and recover from the rough situation we have. And your hiding is ingenious. Even with that warship, they'll have to take time figuring out where we are, and by the time they have, we'll have won.”



Semiramis nods as she agrees, “Indeed, my Master—and...” Her smile deepens, as she blushes lightly. “Thank you for trusting my food, as well... With my history, and how it's been twisted, it's—”



Shirou smiles, taking one of her hands in his own gently, his eyes never wavering from her own. “It's my honor, Semiramis. And it's one beautiful view, for this date you suggested between us.”



Semiramis begins to smile wider still, then suddenly pauses, frowning softly. “You know, I really am happy about that—however, isn't this normally when Erik tends to somehow interrupt us?”



Shirou frowns as well. “Indeed, it is.”
The pair glances over at a phone. After a beat, he smiles as the phone fails to ring. “ Hopefully we don't have anything to interrupt us. I'm afraid I'm enjoying just spending time with you, here, in this ocean of clouds...”



The view is spectacular for them both, as they watch those clouds drift by, with several of Semiramis' familiars flying around the castle.



Semiramis' smile grows brighter, as she turns towards her Master. “Master... Shirou... I...”



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qP5CD4znx9g (Red vs Blue Official Intro Theme, Red vs Blue)




The phone’s suddenly bursting into song, rather than the standard ringing sound, confuses them for a moment. Then both of them glare at it in unison.



“So, he survived, then—damn him,” Shirou mutters, as he grabs the phone, and taps buttons on it. “And right when we were getting to relax, as well... Now let's see here, what was... Ah, there's the speakerphone—and there.”



“So—great fun on the Wolfen with Assassin of Black there, you two!” Erik's voice congratulates them cheerfully; it leaves them blinking at first, then smiling with surprise as he elaborates, “You got my Servant, got your Servant to ensure another Master lost their Servant, and thus wound up with me contracting to Saber instead, and had little poor Jack the Ripper die on re-entry!”
“And why are you telling us all this, Erik?” Shirou replies, with amusement in his voice. “ We're long gone, you know?”
“‘Long gone’ in this case, meaning ‘two hours out, in the middle of a cloud…?’ Yeah, I know where you're at,” Erik continues, not giving a damn about Shirou or Semiramis' reactions to him knowing where they are. “But, you might recall our little discussion in the throne room, about shit that Darnic could possibly do?”



For a moment, Semiramis pauses, frowning. “I remember. I suppose he used his little trick, then?”



“Yup—and Trifas has a higher population of Dead than living people right now. So I'll make you a decent deal: I’m willing to offer you either two hours head-start, or free use of my cloning technology—once we've proved it's usable on Servants—to incarnate one or both of you if you would rather have that instead of fighting us. In return, you take at least one good shot at the fucking building the bastard's hiding in, as well as giving out any tips on how to deal with at least a good chunk of the city being turned already.”



Erik's voice is smug, but Semiramis' breath catches in her throat as she realizes the implications of what is being offered to them.



“You can truly offer... I see. Give us a minute to decide.” With those words, Semiramis turns to look at Shirou quietly.



“Master... Are you absolutely certain that we can win with your plan? If he knows where we're at, then our stealth has been useless. I can't—with us like this... Master, please. Can we win? Can you win?” Semiramis' voice echoes in Shirou's head, as he thinks.



But as he thinks, he focuses, letting Semiramis hear his thoughts through telepathy.



“Am I right? Is this truly the right thing to do? Have I strayed from the path of the Lord? Do we truly have a chance, here?” For a moment, Shirou bows his head, as his brain thinks, more and more over things. “I think we have a chance. If we can play keep-away long enough, keeping the Hanging Gardens far off enough from his ship, we can see about getting it to run out of fuel. From there, if we keep moving, we'll be able to get them out of the range of the Greater Grail, and thus, out of the range where their Servants can be supported.... We just need more time...! Wait. Wait a minute...”



“Perhaps...” Shirou murmurs, before he looks up at the phone. “Perhaps we can come to a deal. As you can imagine, Erik, I'm rather exhausted from my own efforts at supporting Semiramis.”



“Oh? I figured, with how much that thing has to weigh alone...” Erik's voice comes back, more than a bit sarcastically, over the phone.



Shirou nods, folding his arms. “Unfortunately, if we're going to do any sort of ranged attack, we're going to need at least five hours to recover from it—I'm sure you can understand the reasoning why. Her big explosive attack takes a lot out of me.”



“And so you want extra time to run and hide, huh?” Erik's voice comes over, with a sigh. “No shooting my Wolfen until we have a showdown, while we both try and crack Darnic's new castle, and I'll agree, unless you want me using that nuke on you. Five hours to run; I need to repair some of the shit your Little Miss Murderhobo destroyed, anyways.”



Shirou's eyebrow rises, in a very Spock-like expression, as he blinks at the term for Jack the Ripper. “‘Murderhobo?’”



“Considering who she was in life?” Erik's voice retorts. “As far as I can tell, it fits. Don't ask if you don't want to know the details, however… Moving on—I'll be making my assault on the lower sections of the tower, where dimensional anomalies are at. If you want to shoot the bastard, he'll likely be at a small tower, connected to one of the tallest, with a stairway being the main connection. Bastard redesigned it to look like Castlevania from the video game series, and so he's most likely hidden there where Dracula usually is at.”



“Charming,” Shirou admits. “And I'll make sure not to ask, then. We'll try to not hit your Wolfen until our showdown, I suppose—and good luck with your own assault; monsters like that don't deserve to live. As for tactics, aim for disarming them, or getting them into sunlight. Some people think that it might be Ultraviolet light that does the most damage, but we haven't had time to test that theory out.”



“I'll keep that in mind. Good luck on your end, even if we'll fight eventually. It's honestly been interesting to have you as an opponent.” With those words, Erik hangs up, leaving Shirou and Semiramis to look at each other.



“He did it again,” Semiramis growls softly. “He called right when we were in the middle of things, again...”



“And we've earned five hours of grace, both for recovery and flight time,” Shirou admits with a smile. “Five hours that can be taken up mostly by continuing our date...”



At Shirou's words, Semiramis smiles, blushing the entire time, as she nods her assent. “Indeed, we can. Let's go and test out a few shots—see if we can't handle this new castle—then take time to enjoy life for a little while...”









Yggdmillenia Castlevania
The Front Gates






Erik approaches, as he puts his phone away, studying the gates carefully, as well as Mordred's new Tumbler parked nearby. Glancing back, he studies Godafrid, Fiore and Chiron approaching behind, as well as a small army of the Legion of Coal. Two mecha escort the army of machines, carefully watching for more of the Dead coming, bringing a smile to his face.




Further out, he can see a small swarm of civilians, mostly children and parents that somehow managed to hide from the first assault of the Dead, hastily traveling towards the mecha.



“Good, at least the innocents will be safe...” Erik murmurs with a sigh. Then, as he studies the gates, he rubs his forehead before speaking up louder.



“So, this looks like a massive trap to me, what with the gates wide open for us—how about for you all?”



Fiore and Godafrid both jerk their heads up from their conversation, to study it more closely, while Chiron’s eyes simply narrow as he speaks up, “They shouldn't be open like this, even with Mordred going ahead of us. I agree, it screams 'trap' to me, as well—but I'm not certain as to what methods our foe will use against us. I'm afraid my talent for telling when an attack is coming isn't helping, either...”



Godafrid eventually nods as well. “Nothing catches my eye outright, but I do not like how this is set up.”



Fiore simply shakes her head, her eyes narrowed.



A massive bang echoes overhead, as another shot from the massive railgun slams from the Wolfen into the Castle's shield, detonating half in and half out of the shield, leaving everyone stumbling from it.



“Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but spring the trap, I suppose.” Erik admits, as he walks towards the doors, focusing as he does so. “Mordred? How's things going inside?”



“It's damned spooky in here, Erik,” Mordred's voice replies, the telepathy somehow communicating stress and tension. “I can feel eyes watching me, but they're not doing a thing to stop me, yet. It's definitely some form of trap, but I'm not sure what sort of trap it is...”
“Mordred's seen nothing, as well, but she can feel people watching in there. Damn.” With those words, Erik turns around to look at the Legion of Coal. “Start escorting civilians to the fallback section we've been working at; once that's over, start checking buildings one by one, as well as the sewers en masse—I don’t like this one bit.”



The Legion of Coal units nod, as Erik pats the close ones on the shoulder. “After this, I'll get you all some upgrades. If we're facing crap like this, you all seriously need it...”



“Thank you, Father. We'll be fine, though. Go in and we'll handle everything for you.” The Legion of Coal units close by move back, following their creator's orders, as he walks through the massive gates.




As the last of them finish walking through, the gates slowly shut, as far above, Dracula grins—



Then the working he'd been preparing slams outwards, covering the city near-instantly as his Domination spell works to convert his foes' army in one fell swoop.



As one, the Legion of Coal scream, and as Erik turns around to try to get back through, only to see a bare glimpse of his Legion of Coal holding their heads as one, right before the gates slam shut.



“MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD—YOU DARE TO HURT MY CREATIONS?!” Erik roars in bestial rage, as he turns, and starts moving through the castle, a blizzard slamming into existence around him as the Dead crash in to stop him and his allies.






The Wolfen
Main Bridge






The first thing that should have tipped them off that something was wrong, the Scylla noted through the pain of the spell, was the Legion of Coal screaming outside the ship. But the pain the Scylla feels through the Legion of Coal is far too immense for that.



And as the Scylla fights for its mental sanity against the Domination spell of Dracula, it has flashes of memories of its own past, even as the immense pressure of the spell leaves it screaming.



For years, the Scylla had simply existed, focusing on getting through one day at a time. Knowing that its life could end any day, when a powerful enough Demigod would turn their attention its way. Suffering endless nightmares through each night, its creator making life horrible for it during the day, the Scylla pushed forwards. Knowing that no one would come, there would be no heroes, and its maker being explicit about what those of Mount Olympus would do to it when its time came to fight them.



"So this is losing once more isn't it? I thought it would hurt less..."



Tormented people, workers working on an oil platform, crudely attached to tentacles on its body; their memories absorbed into its own mind. Watching its maker craft horrifying eldritch abominations… That was the last few things he had to watch, before Erik confronted him.



Then came that day, the day when he fought Erik. In that moment, where Erik and his band of comrades had him helpless, the Scylla knew it looked at its death, and destruction. For once, it was at peace. The Scylla knew, it knew that this was the face of its death, and accepted that. Thus, when those ones came for it, which its crafter had told it about?



"Ah, Boss... I hope you're doing better than I am..."



It faced death with acceptance. It didn't deserve to live; why would it? It was nothing more than an abomination—and it knew well how abominations to the Gods died...



Then Erik stepped forwards, and asked it to live anyways. Asked for the Scylla to be friends; to help him, and be helped in return, and find a way for them both to live.



It had warned Erik that day that its body was, in many senses, fragile—it could not evolve past the point where it was at. That its creator could not make it evolve, or grow stronger. It could learn more skills, for certain, but not grow... And Erik accepted it.



"Fuck this pain. I won't be dominated, damn you!"



But Erik had accepted it—cared for it. Life in the Wolfen was heavenly; to have music of its own, to have choices of its own, much less a home? It was paradise.




And now, it was in a predicament. It didn't have the godly skills that Erik did—or Tamamo, or Fenris. It wasn't as strong. It didn't have the mental protections, either. Thus, as the spell encroaches further through its mental defenses, it can only put up barriers: mazes, labyrinths—all steadily devoured by Dracula.



It doesn't have the power to fight back, the Scylla knows. Not at it is. Not the way it was designed to be.



"Fuck it! Fuck the Gods, and fuck you! If you wish to push me this far, Dracula, in fighting you—SO BE IT!"



With those words, out of sheer desperation, the Scylla activates the self destruct systems on the Legion of Coal units the spell is touching, disabling the direct connection with Dracula.



But it can feel the spell trying to influence it still, slowly trying to build strength and capture it… Or him? Her? The Scylla still can't be sure. "It" works well enough, still, so it'll stick with that.



For a moment, the Scylla somehow settles in its comfortable, custom made chair and thinks, as it ignores the screams of Nestor, or Tamamo asking what the hell is happening, as well as Fenris staring in consternation. It’s always known there'd be two ways for it to die. If it ever tried to grow, unless it impossibly grew from the Demigod level, into the level of a true God, it would outright die. Or it would be killed, by the Gods.



Erik had saved it this long. And now, with the Legion of Coal having failed, the Domination spell is threatening to control the units of the Legion of Coal on the Wolfen; it could not fail again.



The Scylla knew it had the same power, or whatever it was, that let others grow. Unlike the others, it could see them accumulate it. And it had not spent a single bit of that power. Not from fighting Surtr. Not from fight, after fight, after fight. Because it knew that the power would kill it.



"I have no choice anymore, do I? This is the only path left to me, before that spell..." The Scylla trails off, murmuring quietly, as the orb desperately thinks. "Thus... It’s either near-certain death, or being turned against Boss."



For a moment, the Scylla flashes back to when Erik truly trusted it. When they'd simply chatted about Erik's plans and the Scylla had thrown itself into Erik's group completely. To the moment that the Scylla realized that it loved Erik as a brother. Not as a father, it couldn't accept him like that—but as family, even still.



"I made my choice back then. For you, Boss. Let's hope I survive this thing; however it may warp and twist me..." The Scylla whispers, and then forces itself to try to ascend...









Trifas, Romania
Rendezvous Point Alpha






The first noticeable sign of something wrong, was the metal legion of machines that had protected them all, starting to scream and clutch their heads, Jackie realized faintly, as well as the mecha nearby thrashing for a moment with electricity sparking over them.



The second sign was the robots all falling over, explosions racking their bodies as one, much to the horror of the people that were just rescued.



But the biggest and most important sign, was the sheer swarms of people rushing out of the sewers of Trifas and running towards them with no hesitation, mercy, or recognition in their eyes.



“Shoot them, please!” She screams in horror, as the mass of former humans start rushing towards their positions. “Everyone grab a laser rifle from these things, and help fight them off!”



With those words, she desperately grabs a laser rifle, pulls it up, and starts pulling the trigger. And thankfully enough for her, the damned thing works.



But as thousands upon thousands of zombies that were former occupants of the same city rush her, she pales in horror at the sheer numbers heading their way...






The Wolfen
Main Bridge






Soon enough, the Scylla realizes that for all it has obtained, all that stuff it did while fighting, isn't enough to fully ascend. Oh, it should be enough—back in their home universe, it was definitely enough.



But in this place, in this land, it wasn't enough; not for lack of trying, not for lack of power, but in the fact that this universe's Overworld for Gods simply didn't exist or function the same way.



Even as its shell cracks, hints of blood showing in the cracks as the barrier protecting its mind from the outside world, much like a skull protects a human from damage. Even as its mind slows down from sheer, raw agony... the Scylla desperately works, trying to figure out how to fix things.



It's an insane plan, for the Scylla. It's not something a human would think of. But the idea is the sole one that it can think of, so it focuses, and works, desperation fueling the Scylla's soul as it works harder.



More cracks appear over the core, as the Scylla works, desperately trying to figure out some way, any way to fully counter the damage—skill after skill being learned, the Scylla pushing itself to the utter limits of a Demigod, with power to spare.



But nothing works well enough to save it. So instead, it digs deep, deep within itself, searching its core for something, anything that could help... And it finds something. Something ancient, something buried deep within the Scylla, at the very core of its beginning—a tiny hint of something, at least.



Everything the Scylla has pushes to see what it is within it. Legend is spent like water, as the Scylla focuses, to analyze it, comprehend it. Desperation drives the Scylla to look within itself fully, no matter the price.



It wades through blood, thousands of gallons worth—of Demigods, humans, Titanspawn and monsters—skulls, brains. It sinks past items carved with runes, a beating heart half-made of metal—and disturbingly reminding the Scylla of the Heart of Winter—shards of Relics and equipment. But it ignores all of that, to search deeper...



It succeeds. But success brings no complete answers, only more questions for the Scylla. As it stares at one of its creator’s arms, as well as a young child at its very core; not even a newborn baby, something that was gestating in the womb.



Ignoring the pain, the cracks in its core, the Scylla focuses, analyzing itself, and the child deep within, desperately trying to understand the confusing scene … And to the Scylla's horror, it suddenly comprehends.



The child lay deep within has the same blood as its Creator; its maker. The monster that made it sacrificed his own unborn child to create the Scylla—and as the Scylla's mental eyes snap wide open from terror, horror and shock, deep within its core, the child's eyes do as well.









Yggdmillenia Castlevania
Dracula's Throne Room






Dracula smiles widely, watching the carnage inside and outside his castle, as he sips upon a glass of wine.



“You didn't expect that, did you Norseman?” He speaks aloud, grin never fading. “Even if I failed to get your little legion of metal men, their backer is still screaming and flailing against my Domination spell. Soon enough, your little ship will serve me, and I will use it to usher in a new age! One where all of man serves to my whims, and suffers for what they did to my wife.”



His grin fades, however, at the feeling of someone pushing through everything he sends their way, however many of the Dead he throws at them. “Tch—however, it seems that Servant is a bit more important right now. You can wait, little backer of that metal army, for me to reinforce the Domination Spell. For now, I have a bone to pick with the one coming my way. After all, I'd rather she doesn't get her hands on my alchemy labs...”



With those words, Dracula leaves his throne room, heading for Mordred's location. As he does, he doesn't forget to ensure more of the Dead harass his foes equally in large numbers.






Yggdmillenia Castlevania
Lower Levels






“Erik!” Godafrid shouts. “Damn you, Erik—focus on my voice, and listen! You need to make us immune to this cold if you want to continue using it, damn it!”



For a moment, Erik doesn't stop—one single moment where he glares at them, then pauses.



… And his rage slowly falters, as he looks at them—cold, almost freezing, and staring at him—and the sheer number of frozen Dead around him, before he moves over to help them.



“You're right. Sorry. I just...” Erik admits, quietly. “The sheer HATRED for him that I felt, when he hurt my creations that way...”



Fiore looks at him, more than a bit of sympathy in her eyes, before she reaches out and pats his hand gently. “I understand. I'd be just as angry if it was someone that called me ‘mother,’ that died the way they...”



Nodding quietly, Erik frowns, as a slight scent of something reaches his nose that he can't quite place. “Thank you. Hang on, though. What the hell do I smell...?”



A longer sniff from Erik, results in him pausing as they blink at Erik before going into a defensive stance, as he starts moving to one section of the room they're in. Kneeling down, Erik sifts through the divinely-created snow, and then picks up a shard of metal.



For a moment, he smells it deeply, blinking as his mind analyzes it carefully. “The fuck? I don't know what the hell this is, but...”



Erik turns it, studying it. The shape, the characteristics, the style... “A piece of a scythe? I don't recognize the metal or the materials, though... Almost looks more like a crystal or something, rather than metal. And didn't the Scylla mention something about dimensional fuckery, earlier...?”



Then, Erik pauses and holds it up. “Godafrid—does this look like the weapons from something in that Castlevania series to you?”



“That would be a chunk of Death's SCYTHE from the series,” Godafrid's voice replies, leaving Fiore a bit pale. “What the fuck is it doing here?!”



“The Scylla mentioned dimensional fuckery earlier... I think he's trying to summon people—or specifically, minions—from his home dimension... Or perhaps the Castle is?” Erik muses. “It's pretty early in, but if it wasn't for my ability to sense and smell Legend, I would have never found it.”



“What's it smell like?” Fiore asks, quietly.



“Ashes, blood, and rot...” Erik replies, shaking his head. “Let's keep on going. I've got a bad feeling about this...”






The Wolfen
Main Bridge






For a long moment, the Scylla simply blinks in understanding, through half developed eyes, as it looks at the inside of its core for the first time. Just comprehending the depths of depravity its creator went to, to serve the Titans.



There are no words for the horror that the Scylla feels right now. No words for the depths of its rage. No words for the comprehension that the Scylla was meant to be that bastard's child; and his father made him into a literal brain in a jar...



And as the horror fades, it is replaced by a cold rage that burns in the Scylla's own soul; a calculating wrath that leaves the Scylla fully aware and comprehending of everything. Logical, yet enraged beyond belief.



Then, understanding hits, as the Scylla takes a step back, mentally, and looks at everything. The “heart” is beating so hard, that most of the things within its body have broken—shattered by the power within.



“Huh. I'm actually male, if barely. Would you look at that...”Scylla's voice barely comes from the orb, as he focuses on gender identity for the first time, even partially.



He knows what his creator could do—did do. He knows what he has to do to fix things, now.



Skills shift, as he, Scylla, adjusts himself. The body shifts, as he forces himself to understand and take advantage of his bloodline... And the world shifts, as his fetus body within, as well as almost everything else, stops existing for one long moment.



Divine power flares, as he almost, almost ascends a different way—before he pushes it back down, investing in skills, rather than overarching power, and then twists his form...



Once, merely an orb, a core—now, a body, based a bit on the child deep within his prior shell. New eyes snap open, as a man stands where the orb once sat; eyes glowing with power, and rage, as he pushes against Dracula's domination spell, and starts to win.



His eyes look over the Wolfen, studying it this way for the first time, as he stands. Then his eyes narrow, as he focuses—on the Legion of Coal, on the Wolfen,on all the mecha…



And as Arete skills show their worth, he smirks.



“ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL...”






Author's Notes:
Scion doesn't go into the creation of the Scylla, or Charybdis. Not really. Except that in the heart of it, is a glass sphere with an innocent child's mind within, as well as a horrifying understanding of how it's creator could use fleshcrafting to mix flesh with machine.



Except the person who made it, Ixion, is one horrifying bastard, who happily tortures people half to death before making them part of horrific abominations, mixes of man and machine. Literally. His “take” on centaurs involved making a man half motorcycle... Not good stuff.



Also, between 1 being Male, 2 being Female, and 3 being a Hermaphrodite, the Scylla got a 1.




1D3 =>1



As for what the hell the Scylla just did? He just took over two thousand experience points, yes, two followed by three zeroes, and fueled them directly into trying to become a God. And when that failed, he went for the next best thing.



ARETE: YES comes in mind.



More literally? Mental Defenses? Yes. Arete? Yes. Mental control? Yes. Arete? Yes. Advanced Mental Control? And Arete? Yup.



Part of it, has to do with the natural ability to control 6 objects at once, while only having the natural ability to multi-task for 5 objects at once.



He also accidentally figured out something akin to Erik's mechanical panoply, with fleshcrafting. Thus the new body, which can handle his heart, and other shit. There's reasons for that, really, but Erik hasn't realized them, and they're plot, so I'm not writing them down. Wait for the plot like good readers, please.



Joy, means I need to write a new character sheet for him next... 61 chapters, and only now is that he's getting gender pronouns! No more “the Scylla!”, so yay!



I'll do the writeup for the legend spent later. Busy making sure that the RPG game I'm DMing sunday is going to go well.

[Arbitrarity]

Okay, DAMN that was a long chapter. That probably could have been broken into two, though just up to the call with Shirou would have maybe been a bit short.

Erik is very perceptive about what Godafrid remembers, good on him. Playing D&D with Hel would be... interesting.

“I always tried to point out that you should train with your sword more, didn't I? Gosh, bet you're regretting not following a more traditional path now, aren't you?”

Another good example of different perspectives between Godafrid and the original Krampus there. Also probably reflective of some amusing metagame anecdotes.

“Damned assholes are a pain in our ass, though...”

Not really my favourite turn of phrase. The repetition doesn't quite sound right. Replace on of the expletives?

Okay, giving Erik access to Starmetal sounds kind of scary. He already has a couple tons of Meteoric Iron, so adding fate-warping properties to that seems fairly strong. He's more likely to get good use out of Orichalcum in terms of synergy, though.

Shirou and Semiramis just never get a break. Kind of annoying that they never take Erik up on his fairly generous offers, but Shirou's about as dedicated to his cause as one can be.

Scylla has been hoarding experience for a long time, damn. So he burned everything and spent none in Legend, or very little, just skills, abilities and Arete improvements for those abilities?

If it ever tried to grow, unless it impossibly grew from the Demigod level, into the level of a true God, it would outright die

I'm not sure I understand what's enforcing this. Obviously the gods coming after him would be a probably lethal problem, but is this a Fatebinding thing, or something in his design, that he might have just overcome by changing his nature? Reminds me a bit of an Atropal with the description you just gave. Of course, we're going full Mass Effect reference now. I am now stuck remembering Glorious Shotgun Princess.

There's reasons for that, really, but Erik hasn't realized them, and they're plot, so I'm not writing them down. Wait for the plot like good readers, please.

BLASPHEMY MY ENTIRE JOB IS WILD MASS GUESSING. Of course, you weren't specific about what "that" is, whether fleshcrafting or the body. If fleshcrafting, it has the obvious applications for incarnating Servants or fixing Fiore's legs, basically anything we're already doing. If body, I'm not entirely sure, though I bet it could use Bronze-Link Manipulators AMAZINGLY. More likely to be something less obvious than either of those, though, so I might need to ponder more.

Several instances of missing spaces, mostly between italicized words

Werewe characters

“You neversaid...!”

damned hull of myWolfen

not to mentionthe fact that

moretime

Ifigured, with how much that thing has to weighalone.

As far as I can tell, itfits

he's mostlikely hidden there where Dracula usually is at.”

monsters like that don'tdeserve to live

its way.Suffering endless nightmares

“Damnyou, Erik

is one horrifyingbastard

I do hope Tamamo can help out or disable Nestor safely.

[RanmaBushiko]

And suddenly, so much becomes clear . . .

Do recall, Kieran, I project to the astral plane daily, while doing other stuff. I KNOW the real Fenris wolf, there. (And for the readers, he threatened me with slurps until I made Erik focused on freeing the Scion version of himself. Imagine being doggie licked by a tongue the size of a bus, and you can decide if that's worth not doing something...) Who's mostly retired, and loves steak.

He likes to suggest shit as I write, off and on. And with my hearing in regards to the astral plane getting better...

Okay, DAMN that was a long chapter. That probably could have been broken into two, though just up to the call with Shirou would have maybe been a bit short.

Erik is very perceptive about what Godafrid remembers, good on him. Playing D&D with Hel would be... interesting.

Another good example of different perspectives between Godafrid and the original Krampus there. Also probably reflective of some amusing metagame anecdotes.


Not really my favourite turn of phrase. The repetition doesn't quite sound right. Replace on of the expletives?

Okay, giving Erik access to Starmetal sounds kind of scary. He already has a couple tons of Meteoric Iron, so adding fate-warping properties to that seems fairly strong. He's more likely to get good use out of Orichalcum in terms of synergy, though.

Shirou and Semiramis just never get a break. Kind of annoying that they never take Erik up on his fairly generous offers, but Shirou's about as dedicated to his cause as one can be.

Scylla has been hoarding experience for a long time, damn. So he burned everything and spent none in Legend, or very little, just skills, abilities and Arete improvements for those abilities?

I'm not sure I understand what's enforcing this. Obviously the gods coming after him would be a probably lethal problem, but is this a Fatebinding thing, or something in his design, that he might have just overcome by changing his nature? Reminds me a bit of an Atropal with the description you just gave. Of course, we're going full Mass Effect reference now. I am now stuck remembering Glorious Shotgun Princess.


BLASPHEMY MY ENTIRE JOB IS WILD MASS GUESSING. Of course, you weren't specific about what "that" is, whether fleshcrafting or the body. If fleshcrafting, it has the obvious applications for incarnating Servants or fixing Fiore's legs, basically anything we're already doing. If body, I'm not entirely sure, though I bet it could use Bronze-Link Manipulators AMAZINGLY. More likely to be something less obvious than either of those, though, so I might need to ponder more.

Several instances of missing spaces, mostly between italicized words




I do hope Tamamo can help out or disable Nestor safely.

Let's see now... in order...

Yeah, well... I try to give you all 20 pages each time I write. Most of Scylla's scenes were written first, followed by everything else around it. (And I'll freely admit, it was hard for me to write. I like the fellow, even if he's mostly been a brain in the jar for the entire story...)

You can imagine D&D with Hel would be absolutely fascinating. Especially when she's bored. Or in the mood to troll everyone.

Yes, there are some good different perspectives, as well.

I'll change that one soon enough, thanks.

Godafrid knows the recipies for Orichalcum, Soulsteel, and Moonsilver, because Kieran owns the books that has the instructions on how to make it.

As for Shirou, he already died for his cause once before... he's not exactly giving a damn about anything but if it could hurt Semiramis at this point.

Basically... The Scylla was a science experiment by that rat bastard Ixion, who used one of his unborn children to make him in the first place. I'm elaborating a lot here, but when you actually READ the scion books for first edition, it actually looks like something he would do, just to see if it was possible... so all his life, he was told that if he ever grew stronger, that the glass core he was would start cracking, and breaking as a result of it being rather fragile for him, though nearly fucking impervious to damage from the outside.

More importantly, he was told, and demonstratively shown using siblings, that anyone that tried to go above the level he was at, would die painful, horrible deaths as their cores were cracked from the inside out. So yeah, design flaws, and Ixion being a bastard who wanted them weak enough to kill if they ever turned against him. And yes, I remember Glorious Shotgun Princess too, now, damn it. Wonder if that ever got finished...

Yup, for good reason. As for fleshcrafting... technically, he could heal Fiore's legs. It would just be an abomination to God and man alike for what the result would likely be, rather than something that would pass in normal human society. Considering Ixion happily carved people in half, fused them in an unholy mix of man and motorcycle, then called them centaurs and sent them on their way to fuck with people in gangs?

Thanks for pointing out the missing spaces (they WEREN'T when I posted that chapter, damn it! Ugh...), and I'll fix them after I'm done writing this.

As for Tamamo and Nestor... the Wolfen wasn't affected, except for the Scylla, who was linked to the Legion of Coal units outside the ship. He's mostly fine, just freaking the fuck out after watching the Scylla go through what he did.

[Kieran]

Erik is very perceptive about what Godafrid remembers, good on him. Playing D&D with Hel would be... interesting.

No doubt.

Another good example of different perspectives between Godafrid and the original Krampus there. Also probably reflective of some amusing metagame anecdotes.

Oh, yes - largely griping from somebody about how the Aesir treated him like crap, and my attempts to point out that they found dealing with something by going up to it and swinging an axe a LOT more impressive than pushing buttons from a couple of miles away.

Okay, giving Erik access to Starmetal sounds kind of scary. He already has a couple tons of Meteoric Iron, so adding fate-warping properties to that seems fairly strong. He's more likely to get good use out of Orichalcum in terms of synergy, though.

That's my thought, as well; the trick will be in either adapting the stuff to work with Legend instead of Essence, or at least getting access to the Sun Purview.

Shirou and Semiramis just never get a break.

It's Erik's newest Fatebinding: Cock-blocker.

BLASPHEMY MY ENTIRE JOB IS WILD MASS GUESSING.

And personally, I love you for it.

Of course, you weren't specific about what "that" is, whether fleshcrafting or the body. If fleshcrafting, it has the obvious applications for incarnating Servants or fixing Fiore's legs, basically anything we're already doing. If body, I'm not entirely sure, though I bet it could use Bronze-Link Manipulators AMAZINGLY. More likely to be something less obvious than either of those, though, so I might need to ponder more.

By all means, do.

Do recall, Kieran, I project to the astral plane daily, while doing other stuff. I KNOW the real Fenris wolf, there. (And for the readers, he threatened me with slurps until I made Erik focused on freeing the Scion version of himself. Imagine being doggie licked by a tongue the size of a bus, and you can decide if that's worth not doing something...) Who's mostly retired, and loves steak.

He likes to suggest shit as I write, off and on. And with my hearing in regards to the astral plane getting better...

I mostly meant the "shipping Fiore" part. You were subtle enough in our discussions that I hadn't really noticed.

Let's see now... in order...

Yeah, well... I try to give you all 20 pages each time I write.

Whereas I aim for 10, just to give you all an idea of the differences. The last chapter actually made it to eleven; and for reference, my copy of the story (consisting of my chapters) just passed 300 pages . . .

You can imagine D&D with Hel would be absolutely fascinating. Especially when she's bored. Or in the mood to troll everyone.

True - though frankly, it's the "Call of Cthulhu" reference that has me worried.

Godafrid knows the recipies for Orichalcum, Soulsteel, and Moonsilver, because Kieran owns the books that has the instructions on how to make it.

I'm also not entirely sure how forming starmetal would be possible outside of its native setting, since according to what little I've been able to find on its construction, the stuff is formed from the corpses of dead deities . . . Granted, that does imply a convenient and useful way to dispose of his enemies, but . . .

And yes, I remember Glorious Shotgun Princess too, now, damn it. Wonder if that ever got finished...

Nope, sadly.

Yup, for good reason. As for fleshcrafting... technically, he could heal Fiore's legs. It would just be an abomination to God and man alike for what the result would likely be, rather than something that would pass in normal human society. Considering Ixion happily carved people in half, fused them in an unholy mix of man and motorcycle, then called them centaurs and sent them on their way to fuck with people in gangs?

On the other hand, as Kara no Kyokai demonstrates, that could be covered by illusions - and it would be a point in favour of increasing her compatibility with Meltlilith . . .?

Thanks for pointing out the missing spaces (they WEREN'T when I posted that chapter, damn it! Ugh...), and I'll fix them after I'm done writing this.

Nor when I looked it over - stupid formatting . . .