Yeah, Hermes, you need to change that part at least. Sakura was my least favorite of the three heroines, but I'd never want to get her killed.
Yeah, Hermes, you need to change that part at least. Sakura was my least favorite of the three heroines, but I'd never want to get her killed.
Likes attention, shiny objects, and... a ball of yarn?
F/GO Supports
I joined two years too late...
Powerless child of man.“Ah, not this shit again.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you think you’re being awesome and mysterious with this.”
You, who has yet to hear the song of strife…
“Fuck, you Age of Gods bitches just can’t get to the point, can ya?”
You, who has yet to know the dance of chaos…
“See? This is what happens when a battle-mongering idiot tries to sound smart.”
Why should I anoint the likes of you with my power sublime?
“Ah, there you go; now we’re talkin’!”
Don’t fuck with me!
*** ***
Maria Westinghouse awakes (?) not with a gasp, but with a placid smile.
“Ah, I missed this.”
She takes her sweet time filling her sight with the bedroom she has not seen in almost a year: the pocket-sized books with the classics of literature she always started with never finished; the crafts she built in that weird “girly” phase in her early teens; the most unreliable night light in the world; everything is exactly as she remembers it.Spoiler:
“Gotta complain to Mom, though. She let some a-hole impostor in here.”
(BGM)
“Does nothing but insolence come out of your mouth, vessel?”Spoiler:
“Says the one wearing my face and speaking in my voice.”
The girl seated on the bed stares at the exact same girl seated on the “ergonomic”·plastic chair. Golden radiance constantly swirls around the latter; it is not a “second skin” of light that merely surrounds her. Tongues of light entwine, revolve and lash out at random, the only rule being the obstinate rejection of stillness.
“Well, seems like you got something out of Abzu, after all.”
“Yeah, I met the original. Now that was terrifying. The Age of Gods was the real deal, if it had things like her.” Maria shrugs. “Now that I’ve seen that, this little light show of yours just doesn’t do it for me.”
“So you say you do not fear me, girl?”
The eye roll is elaborate and eloquent.
“God, it’s always the same goddamn thing with you. Sure, you’re so powerful and scary, you can break me like a twig if you wanted to. So fucking what? I die, you disappear, nothing gets done, and the bad guys win. Nothing of worth comes out of you killing me.”
Javier might have been surprised to learn Maria is perfectly capable of smiling sardonically.
“Worst of all, you don’t get to fight.”
“There’s no point if it’s just my power through some human vessel!”
Maria’s gesturing dismisses the Servant’s anger.
“Yeah, sucks to be you, but it is how it is: life’s not fair, though you should that by now, what with being locked in that temple all this time.”
“You worthless maggot…!”
A moment later, Maria finds herself awfully close to, well, herself. Her own hand harshly grasped the hem of her cloak and pulled her off the bed until their noses are almost touching. Saver’s inhuman yellow eyes, glowing with rage, fill her sight.
“…bet there’s some self-cest porn out there that starts just like this. Probably Japanese, those tentacle fuckers.”
Against all odds, the comment completely out of left field manages to dissipate some of the boiling tension in the bedroom.
“Wha…?”
“I said let me go already,” Maria then says, halfheartedly pushing the grasping arm aside without success.
“Maybe after you learn your place, girl.”
Maria just rolls her eyes again.
“Look, here’s how it is: either you live vicariously through me, or we both get nothing.”
“I will not be the tool of some human!”
Maria turns her gaze slightly to the side—then again, it’s technically her own breath and spittle, so it should be okay, right?
But, those words right there, they are the crux of the issue, are they not? The memories of the primeval sea are still fresh in her head.
“Look, I’m no good at the talking thing, okay? What I know is that we’re not enemies. Maybe if we stopped, like, trying to assert dominance and actually do some talking, maybe we could work something out?”
“Oh, so now the girl wants to talk!” Saver barks in laughter, and Maria’s bum hits the mattress as she is suddenly let go. “After three days of prancing around with my powers and embarrassing yourself with your own incompetence, now you feel like having a chat!”
Maria feels that is a little—albeit not completely—unfair, but Saver does not give her the chance to respond.
“Well, if there is something good about this whole deal, it’s that I learned a couple useful words.”
The large sword which by all means should be two-handed makes its appearance, pointed at the young woman in the trappings of a Servant.
“Fuck. You.”
Saver’s melam kicks it up a gear, rampaging around its master. It is a canvas painted in the colors of her emotions.
“Killing you doesn’t work for me, but I can just beat you up until you beg me to have my way.”
Maria…sighs. An identical sword appears in her own right hand as she rises to her feet.
“Right. This is the only way you know how to do things, isn’t it?”
Maria’s apathetic reaction in no way erases the malicious grin on Saver’s face. To the original owner of that face, it looks more than a little uncanny.
“Let’s see if you can keep that attitude after I crush you to an inch of your life.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Maria retorts, allowing herself a minuscule grin. “You’ll beat me up until you’re so sick and tired of me you will be begging me to have my way.”
It takes only an instant. It would have completely eluded Maria if she had not dedicated her entire attention to Saver. But her eyes were fixated on her twin, and it did not escape: if only for a moment, clearly in response to her latest words, Saver’s expression changed. It softened, and her eyes widened in surprise and something else. For a moment, Servant Saver was standing there but she was not quite there.
Alas, it lasted only an instant.
“You are annoying, girl.”
In response to Saver’s dark growl, Maria’s grin blossoms into a full smile.
“Yup, like two peas in a pod.”
The golden radiance becomes a rampaging storm.
“STOP SMILING!”
“Ah, but that’s the thing.”
“You’re supposed to smile when you’re having fun~!”
Quest Master's Note: The previous scene's decisions are still open for voting and discussion.Spoiler:
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
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It's simple really, Saver had a triple buster deck (the most valid of all deck setups in FGO), she's pissed and charging at us. We use her momentum against her.
Arts. We take a page from the Geese Howard school of fighting, grab her as she charges and flip her over our shoulder.
Also yes on bracelet because why not?
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
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Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
Arts, but no bracelet though, no real need
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
After some thinking, I'm switching things up to Spoony's. I think he's cracked it.Originally Posted by Bird of Hermes
Ok so after consulting this lovely sheet by zikari8:
Tagged for size
1 Javier (Fireballs for days)
3 Sakura (Titanic elbow drop from 50ft up, they'll never see it coming)
8 Fiore (If someone needs support she can go as a last resort and a servant could tip the scales)
2 Oliver (He's kinda useless here, some gear will be sorely needed for him to survive longer than 3.1 seconds)
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Arts and yes for the bracelet - using a memento of her grandmother seems appropriate since Maria is fighting inside her mind/memories.
+ Switching my vote to Spoony. Will probably switch again later because I'm not the most coherent person.
Last edited by King Prussia; April 25th, 2019 at 06:40 PM.
Arts
But No Bracelet
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
No Bracelet
Blueberry soda...
Likes attention, shiny objects, and... a ball of yarn?
F/GO Supports
I joined two years too late...
Arts
Don't use the bracelet, I want to save it for later.
Arts, No Bracelet.
Drake Family Residence
Day 03
Evening Phase – 02a
Severe Cold (-28 °C/-18.4 °F)
(BGM)Character Status
The idea of walking outside remains as uninviting as ever, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. However, there is no point in setting foot into the frozen, windy city before deciding on exactly where to go. The other three stand a ways behind me, waiting for me to make the first move.
Having decided on a course of action, we’ll go on our separate “missions”, preparing as best as we can before the Nazis attack. The first step—my first duty—is to search and hunt down whatever scouting party they might have keeping an eye on us. And that right there is the crux of the issue: I can’t reasonably put up a fight against even a single guy with an automatic weapon, so this whole idea relies on the chance to deal a surprise attack.
Letting the agony of boiling water wash over me, I command my magic circuits to come to life and generate the necessary energy to fuel magecraft. I need precision and speed, so I waste not a second and initiate Sthūla-Śarīra.
Right then and there, the world hums around me. The divine flame palpitates within my soul, and the slumbering earth is stirred by the numinous presence I have called upon this world. Right then and there, my magecraft ceases to be magecraft. I simply conceive an intent, and the world murmurs a way in which it can be achieved. The earth whispers of microscopic fissures in the street clogged with dirt and dust. The snow on the street all melted in the previous fight, but the layer of snow carpeting the ground level of this house still remains, and it offers itself to me.
It is exhilarating, to feel that the world itself is on my side.
“Fireball,” I murmur, even if I am not truly casting my first and simplest spell. This, whatever it is this divine seed allows me to do, is most definitely not magecraft…or maybe this is the magecraft of the gods. In any case, the snow sublimates in an instant, becoming an opaque white cloud as it mixes with the dust and dirt forced outwards by the spontaneous explosion at the front door. It spreads quickly, filling a generous section of the street.
It’s a smokescreen, plain and simple. I don’t bother looking behind me as I hurry into the cloud at optimal speed, hopefully sneaking out of the Drakes’ house unnoticed. My destination…is decided on a whim, or rather a hunch. I throw myself to the ground the moment I set foot into the shattered house, hoping I cannot be seen from outside. With my face all but pressed against the floor, I look at my surroundings until I find exactly what I was expecting.
“Assassin.”
“You’re the one who told Maria that Rider’s coming, right? Well, yeah, we expect the Nazis to be here any moment now, and Maria’s goes unconscious all of a sudden—”Spoiler:
“I KNow.”
I blink. The walking corpse’s voice, really, it is a jagged thing, as should be expected from a voice forced through frozen vocal chords. But, wait, she knows about Maria? I—I’m pretty sure there weren’t any zombies around when that happened; I’d have noticed, maybe even asked for her help then and there…
…wait. Maria taught me about this. Assassin is the Servant of Assassination that excels at stealth. Could it be that her zombie familiars are just as stealthy as she is?
“We can’t fight Rider without Maria. Heck, we might not even be able to take on the soldiers…”
‘Please help us’. I stop short of saying those words I have never used before.
“…”
Nothing comes from the zombie. In the distance, I catch hearing of Sakura and Mister Drake walking towards the wreck of the armored truck—unlike me, they walk openly, for it would be pretty much impossible for them to act unseen in the middle of the street.
“Um, Assassin…?”
*** ***
Unknown Location
(BGM)
“Absolutely not.”
Human and human-turned Servant abruptly look up at the pure Servant who has interrupted her teatime to say those words all of a sudden. Liria is clearly the more startled of the two, which does not surprise Seigi in the slightest, for the girl had seemingly fallen asleep while seated on the couch.
“You are not going back out there, girl.”
Liria’s alarm transmutes into blatant shock.
“How do you even—aaah, why do I even ask? They need help!”
“I don’t care; you’re not fighting anymore.”
“And how the fuck do you plan to stop me—OW, fuck, FUCK!”
What seemed like a simple, maybe even comforting, squeeze of the shoulder renders Liria into a groaning, cursing wreck all but rolling off the couch and to the cold floor.
“Like that,” idly replies the smaller girl.
“Fuck you! Fuck the woman who birthed you, and fuck the man who fucked her!”
“You are wasting your breath, cursing people who died thousands of years ago.”
Liria only moans on the ground as Seigi finally comes to notice the growing stain on the cloak at the right shoulder.
“Wha…?”
“You idiot girl. You used your right arm to heal a major wound, did you not? What are you thinking, jumping back into the fray with your body like that?”
“Urgh…”
“You came here seeking the protection I offer, so now you have to abide by my rules. You are resting today and that’s that.” The small girl then huffs and crosses her arms. “Really, I should not have to explain myself to this extent.”
“And what exactly do you hope to do out there? You cannot defeat Rider.”
“Can either of you bother to tell me what is going on?” Seigi inquires as he helps the aching Liria back to the couch. His nose wrinkles and his head screams at the stench, but yet again he powers through it.
“As you just said, too much of a bother.”
Seigi, who never expected anything from his bothersome Master, turns to Liria for answers.
“They…my…a…some, somebody I know, is gonna be attacked by Rider and his soldiers. They need my help, but this bitch…!”
“You did that to yourself, girl.”
Liria Colhuán is, however, short of patience.
“Esta sapa culiá! Javier’s in danger, and you don’t even care—!”
Seigi can tell. The atmosphere around these two women has changed in an instant. Despite not being the target, he feels himself rooted to the stop nonetheless. Liria is paralyzed, struck by very simple nervousness and wary fear upon being glared at by the young Servant. It is a kingly glare, the likes of which precedes an order for an execution. It leaves no doubt in the two’s minds: this girl was an ancient ruler, holding the lives and fates of people in her small hands.
“Do not ever, ever, claim that I do not care,” she says quietly. Warningly. Her eyes gleam with sheer passion, as if her very ideals had been challenged.
“I love that child more than anyone else,” she then adds, and her tone leaves no room for argument. “And that is precisely why I will not show myself before him.”
The words contradict each other, but both Seigi and Liria both know bringing it up is pointless. The British man is just surprised by everything that has happened in the past thirty seconds or so. He can tell there is a whole story behind…everything, but it is clearly not one he will learn from either of these two.
Again, however, Liria Colhuán is short of patience.
“You’re just afraid of showing your face before him, pendeja.”
Seigi cannot match either the speed at which Lily jumps on her feet, nor the celerity with which Liria puts as much distance between herself and the other Servant in that living room. However, he too does stand up as fast as humanly possible, single hand outstretched should he need to use his signature magecraft against his teacher.
Lily, however, does not attack. Her face is a mask of condescension—again, the epitome of aristocracy looking down on the worthless mortals. Her head first turns to Liria, whose sudden physical exertion has elicited another bout of pain. She has all but fallen on her knees, clutching her wounded shoulder. Lily rolls her eyes at that, all the way counterclockwise until they are looking downwards, at the male hand outstretched towards her modest chest. She then looks up at Seigi, a wordless “really?” explicit in her raised eyebrow, before walking away from the two, towards the room Seigi knows has been turned into a makeshift workshop.
“If you care so much for the boy and his allies, then help them in a meaningful way, stupid girl. One that does not involve killing yourself to achieve nothing. I have to complete Otto’s potion.”
Seigi Nomikata is, however, a rather brave individual.
“Perhaps I should go help, then?”
They cannot see Lily’s face, only the dismissive gesture of her hand.
“Sure, go out there and get yourself killed. One less idiot I have to worry about.”
Soon enough she is gone, after a door is slammed close with considerably more force than necessary.
*** ***
(BGM)
As the zombie’s silence stretches, I have to come to a decision. I can’t stay here forever, I am supposed to be doing something. Of course, the question remains: where would these hypothetical scouts be?
The Drake residence has only one main entrance and exit, so any subject keeping an eye on us would have to be watching the front of the house. They could be doing so from any of the houses in this block still standing, on either side of the street. However, there is one issue that makes me question this: Saver was sitting on the house right across the street, and we walked down this same street together. Unless these scouts have Assassin’s inhuman stealth—in which case we would already be dead—, Saver would have probably noticed enemies skulking around so close to her, wouldn’t she?
Then again, this is Saver we are talking about. For all I know, Nazi scouts would be so beneath her that she would not care either way.
Another possibility would be that they are watching from further uphill. However, the distance required and all the buildings acting as obstacles in the way limit the effectiveness of that option. As a person who has lived in Valparaíso, I know: if I want to have a proper view of all houses atop Concepción Hill, where should I go?
I can see it from here: the Lutheran church’s bell tower.
I was hoping Assassin could provide some intel that would help me narrow down my options, but it seems we’ll have to do this without her—
“SoRRy. Got CaugHt in SometHinG elSe.”
Shit, that scared me! Hearing that creepy voice close to you all of a sudden is fucking scary!
“FolloW me,” it continues. “I’ll KeeP You out oF tHeiR SigHT.”
“So you know where they are.”
The zombie’s cracked lips break into the most unsettling, wickedest grin I’ve ever seen.
I can’t help but break out into a grin of my own.
Choice Time
*** ***
“Damn,” murmurs the older man, cigarette poking out of the corner of his mouth. “This thing got wrecked.”
“You should’ve seen the one that did it,” murmurs Sakura more to herself than to her host in this city.
There is not much to look at; the vehicle is wrecked beyond any possibility of repair. Perhaps the makers could do so, but it is likely even they would consider more efficient to just build a new one. The rear half of the vehicle was completely flattened; there is no fixing that. If anything, it means they can devote most of their attention to keeping an eye out on their surroundings. They cannot hide their furtive looks in every direction, towards rooftops and windows, as if expecting to be gunned down at any moment. They can only wait for Javier to return with news of his success. Until then…
“Well, looks like this is the only thing we can salvage from this—whoa, this shit is heavy.”
“Um, I guess that is why it has this bipod,” comments Sakura on the 25-pound machinegun now in Oliver’s hands, her idle hand unfolding and folding the flimsy-looking bipod attached to the underside of the barrel.
“At least we know it’s loaded,” adds Oliver, glancing down at the ammo belt dangling off the side. “Not much of it left, though.”
Spoiler:
“Maybe there’s another one of those belts in here…?” Sakura ponders while clumsily crawling into the driver’s space fortuitously unscathed. Oliver ignores the sight of wiggling Japanese butt in tight jeans to muse on the heavy gun’s loading mechanism.
“Um, do you even know how to load a new belt in this thing?”
“Uhh…can I get back to you on that one—”
“I know.”
Fear drives Oliver to react faster than even he expects. Turning towards the new voice, he tries to threaten its owner with the machinegun, but the fact remains that it is not a handheld weapon, so he just fumbles as he struggles to get a proper grip on it.
“—aha! Mister Drake, I found one—!?”
Sakura’s jubilee is cut short as she pushes herself out of the wrecked truck to find Oliver “aiming” the machinegun at an unknown figure.
This intruder warily keeps his sharp eyes on the jeweler with arms held high in the universal gesture of surrender, for there are few things more dangerous than a firearm in the hands of the untrained.Spoiler:
“I’m Marco Ahrens. I hunt Nazis.”
Hands still held high, he points towards the heavy machinegun.
“And I can teach you how to use that thing. Or at least how not to kill us all by trying to use it.”
The most unusual sound of a scoff comes out from somewhere behind Oliver Drake.
“Now there’s a hell of an introduction if I’ve ever heard one. So, where’ve you been all this time, Nazi hunter sir?”
By this point, Oliver is all out gaping at Sakura, both for the out-of-character choice of words and for stealing the words right out of his mouth.
“I said I hunt Nazis. I can’t fight Servants. Or monsters that can fight Servants.”
Oliver seems about to fire a new retort, but Sakura boldly steps forward in front of the man of British ascendance, planting her hands on her hips and presenting her chin rather than her face.
It’s the Edelfelt pose (Sakura edition).
“Are you armed, sir?”
“Of course. Three handgun-type mystic codes: jacket, belt case and right ankle, plus extra magazines, a flashbang, a smoke bomb, and something I’d rather keep a secret for now if you will allow me, young lady.”
“I might if you will allow me to pat you down, sir.”
“Go right ahead,” replies the man, unfazed.
“So you are a magus,” questions Oliver while Sakura carefully, thoroughly and shamelessly verifies the man’s belongings are as declared.
“I am not, but I work with them.”
“If you are not a magus yourself, how are you enduring this weather while wearing that suit?”
The busy Sakura cannot see it, but Oliver can easily tell why Marco does not answer Sakura’s question right away: the man’s cool mien has broken for a moment, his eyes clouded by deep melancholy. The man’s thoughts clearly have drifted someplace very far away…then just as quickly, he returns to the mortal realm, his eyes even sharper than they were before.
“Ah, I beg your pardon?”
“I asked how you are enduring the weather in these clothes, sir.”
“Ah, that is, the suit is a mystic code as well.”
“So you have magic circuits,” Sakura finally declares as she steps away from the gruff man, apparently satisfied.
“Yes, but I never learned any magecraft. Now, will you let me help you? I will fight them no matter what you say.”
Choice Time, Again
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
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Javier: 1
Sakura & Oliver: 1
Last edited by SpoonyViking; May 2nd, 2019 at 04:15 PM.
1, 1
Yeah, I'm changing my choice for Javier to 1. It's better to trust in Assassin.
1, 1. Already bought my ticket for the bandwagon.
Javier: 3 (We should probably say it’s in the interest of saving time, because, you know, we have none)
Sakura & Oliver: 1 (for more killing power)
Likes attention, shiny objects, and... a ball of yarn?
F/GO Supports
I joined two years too late...
Unknown Location
Brit and Chilean are left alone in a heavy and uncomfortable silence, until Liria finds it in herself to say something, anything.
(BGM)
“…who the heck is Otto?”
Seigi blinks, hard, his brain needed more than a moment to process the question out of left field. Feeling tension leave his muscles, he just lets himself fall back on the seat.
“It’s how she calls Marco—um, the other person with us. I presume one of those names is an alias.” He shakes his head in an admission of ignorance. “I don’t really know much about him; I met him when I arrived to this city with Lancer, but they already knew each other beforehand.”
“…huh.” Liria clearly does not care very much for Marco Ahrens or “Otto” or whoever. Instead, she all but throws herself back on the couch, groaning at the action but also draping herself over the softness like an old Retriever.
“Ah, I hate having to rely on that bitch.”
Seigi is not oblivious to the fact there is no real hostility in those words. In fact, there had not being a hint of hostility throughout the whole earlier exchange. There had been all sorts of feelings he could only begin to guess, but at no point has actual hatred shown its ugly mien. Again, he understands there is a past connecting these two women that he is not privy to.
He is also well aware he in no way envies this “Javier” person.
“So, what you plan to do?”
Liria groans at the question.
“Ugh, I know I fucked up, alright? She’s right, I can’t fight like this. Nah, even if I were at my best, I’d be a sitting duck against Rider.”
Seigi frowns, his gaze falling to his knees and the hands clasped between them as he thinks deeply. This might be the “Holy Grail War” mindset he never expected to have to rely on again in his life.
“You know Rider’s true identity?”
“I know everything about everyone,” Assassin whines. “I just can’t say anything because I have God-knows-how many geasa preventing me from saying a word about them Servants…!”
Liria’s head jerks to the side to stare at Seigi.
“The Servants. I can’t talk about the Servants.” She clicks her tongue. “Fuck, I bet this’s what Lily was trying to…!”
“What can you tell me about the soldiers?”
The Servant of Assassination smirks like the prankster about to pull a fast one.
“Plenty.”
After a pause, she jumps to a sitting position on the couch, seemingly revitalized.
“Wait, let me get back to Javier; he should also hear this…huh?”
Seigi’s life experience has taught him well, and his intuition is now telling him something’s gone terribly wrong.
(BGM)
“What is it?”
“Javier’s not there anymore,” replies Liria, her voice not yet catching up to the growing alarm on her face. “I can’t find him—where are my other—I can’t fucking find him—!”
The low table in between all the seats rattles violently when Liria’s demonic hands fall hard on it. Her face shows rage laced with growing despair.
“Fuck, I should’ve been more careful! I’ve known this since yesterday!”
“Miss Liria, what is it?” asks Seigi more insistently. Neither human male nor Servant notice a door recently slammed opening in part.
“Somebody else can manipulate my corpses!”
“Your…corpses?”
“Assassin’s Noble Phantasm allows her to manipulate corpses for all sorts of unwholesome whore purposes,” Lancer Lily spouts matter-of-factly as she walks out of the workshop and across the common area towards the kitchen. In her hands she holds a litter box. An actual litter box, and a rather well-made one, of wood, not plastic.
“You’re trying to make me attack you, aren’t ya!?” screams one unamused young girl (also, Servant).
“I might be a bit lacking in this Saint Graph, but that would still end up badly for you, girl.”
“Ah, fuck you—aha! There, I got you! Thought I wouldn’t figure it out, bitch?”
The way Liria easily switches from dread to vindictive triumph…Seigi Nomikata begins to realize that his new acquaintance might not be entirely alright in the head.
Lily merely rolls her eyes as she slams the litter box on the table, box of actual litter now in hand.
“Explain yourself, lewd idiot.”
A serious look settles on Liria’s face.
“There are two places my familiars can’t approach. Some sort of invisible magical barrier bullshit.”
“Bounded field,” Seigi and Lily utter in unison.
“What-the fucking-ever. One is centered on the Lutheran church, because of course it is. The other is moving. Almost at the church, actually. Bet my sexy ass Javier’s right there.”
“Don’t do that, fool. If you lose it, how are you going to make any income?”
“Eff you, seriously,” mutters the Chilean girl, but she cannot conceal the upwards curve of the corners of her lips.
“Can you confirm who’s doing this? See them from beyond the barrier’s range?” Lily offhandedly refocuses on the matter at hand. She has by now filled the litter box, and sits down on the couch with Liria, who is shaking her head in response.
“Nah, they’re using a good route to stay out of sight, and you know my familiars are no good at seeing at a distance. But it’s gotta be one of those six bitches; well, four. I know two of them can’t do this.”
Seigi groans at about this point.
“Can you ladies please stop talking like I am supposed to have any idea what you are saying? And weren’t you two fighting just moments ago?”
Lancer Lily rolls her eyes and scoffs in the most eloquent way, it’s almost like a piece of art.
“Child, we are women,” she explains. “We are perfectly capable of acting civil to each other while tearing each other’s throats in our minds.”
“Fuck me in the ass, I actually agree with you on something.”
“I thought you charge money for that, and no thank you. Gross. Who knows what filth has gone in there.”
“Aaand I walked right into that one. Good to know you don’t care ‘bout the filth that normally comes out of there, though. Didn’t think you into that kinda stuff.”
Seigi groans as the discussion takes a tangent he really has no wish to partake of. However, perhaps after too long, he has figured out something of major importance.
Their crass banter, this acerbic comradery; they have probably been at each other’s throats for years. They have probably had dozens of arguments like the earlier one, that to this point they are dismissed faster than they are built up.
Like an old married couple, whispers amusedly the voice in his mind.
“You sicken me, whore. And you need to focus on the matter at hand. Do you even know what you are going to do?”
A new, heavier, more serious atmosphere descends upon the room with Lily’s words. The small girl can establish a mood by sheer act of presence; the power of true authority over others.
“You are still not moving from here.”
“I know, I know!” Liria admits, even as she leans back on the couch and lets her worry show again on her face. “I can’t help anybody out there. Now I can’t even send corpses to help him.”
The two women stare at each other for several powerful seconds. The silence barely conceals an entire conversation exchanged through eye contact.
“Beware the consequences of such a choice, child,” suddenly says the younger-looking Servant.
“But you can help.” It is a fact, brimming with Liria Colhuán’s utmost conviction.
“If I intervene, there will be consequences,” refutes the ancient Servant. “The only reason I can provide sanctuary for you and for anybody is because I have not involved myself. If I set foot into this conflict, it will affect you, and it will affect everybody else out there, including Javier Lucero.”
She gestures towards Seigi.
“My apprentice here has nothing to do with this. He followed me to this place in his temerity, but I have no intention to send him into battle.”
And that of all things gets to Liria Colhuán. She looks at the British gentleman, now clearly uncomfortable, and Seigi easily understands that this girl is simply a good person at heart. She obviously has a personal stake in whatever is happening in this frozen city, and she is not willing to involve those completely unrelated. Thus, she now hesitates, and this lull in the discussion, in which the heavy atmosphere falls upon them like a smothering burden, is Seigi’s opportunity to make his stance.
He still does not understand much of what is going on, precisely because his inhuman master intended to keep him out of it. They claimed it is not a Holy Grail War, but it is certainly close enough. If anything, the fact the battlefield these Servants have chosen is an entire city which has been swallowed by unearthly cold, its citizens captured and even slain by ice, tells him enough of the direness of the situation. What, if anything, is there for him to do? Eight years have not made him any more capable of fighting Servants.
With the weights set on the scales, Seigi Nomikata…
Choice
*** ***
Streets of Concepción Hill
Day 03
Evening Phase – 02b
Severe Cold (-28 °C/-18.4 °F)
(BGM)Character Status
It has been an excruciatingly slow approach towards the Lutheran church. If there are indeed spotters atop the bell tower, as this zombie has all but confirmed, then at least this much is necessary to avoid their notice. The invisible of other zombies makes itself noticed: holes in walls allowing us to walk through houses and avoid the streets; objects placed as platforms to make it possible to climb up windows; the whole works.
We are currently hiding under a car. Curiously enough, I cannot perceive the stench of death from the corpse to my left, probably because its flesh is mostly frozen. We wait in silence until we can close the remaining distance to the sacred building unseen.
It is silent. So silent. The corpse emits no sound, not even breathing, so the deathly stillness of the frozen city becomes all the more exacerbated. It is in quiet, still moments like this that the cold can be felt seeping through the thick winter clothes, all the way to the bone. It is only my magecraft that protects me, the divine flame stirred by Sthūla-Śarīra filling me with warmth from the inside out.
How long do we have to wait? How is Assassin keeping track of the watchmen in the bell tower? Does she have zombies skulking on the church’s rooftop? Is Assassin herself in there, watching the scouts while herself unseen?
My only warning is a tug of the sleeve. A moment later, we are rolling out. I am faster—the optimized anatomical control bestowed by Sthūla-Śarīra will never lose to the stiff, uncanny, marionette-like movements of the walking dead. By the time the corpse shambles back on both feet I am already well on my way to the house right next to the church, which acts as the residence of the Lutheran priest and the stage for cultural events organized by the church, if I remember correctly.
Of course, there’s gotta be a direct path to the church in that house. It would be impossible to approach the church building from the street and remain completely unnoticed. However, there might be enemies inside both the church and this residence, so I gotta be careful…
(BGM STOP)
I wait behind the surprisingly sturdy doors until the zombie catches up. The wide hall ahead of us is still and stale, like an ancient ruin entered for the first time in millennia. The undead steps forward boldly, clearly more knowledgeable of the layout than me. Past the entrance hall, the path towards the church proper is narrow to an unsettling degree. Adding to that the darkness of a city without electrical lighting, it creates a scene out of a horror movie. However, there is no psycho with a chainsaw nor pair of eerie children ahead of us. Just a small, wooden door, polished and coated to shiny perfection, like the madness of the frozen world outside has not reached it in the slightest.
The zombie moves behind me, clearly expecting me to open the door. Right, if this is the access to the church’s main hall, then we have to walk its entire length—the stairs up the bell tower are near the main entrance. On the other hand, I would be surprised if there weren’t any soldiers guarding at ground level. Yet again, wouldn’t Assassin have warned me of any danger by now?
Anyway, I’ll just open the door very slowly, just in case—uwah!
It’s only the pinnacle balance and reflexes granted by Sthūla-Śarīra that keep me from falling flat on my face!
It pushed me! The zombie all but shove me through the door, what the fu—oh.
Well shit. Five of them. A line across the width of the nave, all of them with weapons aimed.
Spoiler:
Well, shit.
“Assassin…”
“Too bad, but the traitor has never been here. You will have to make do with us.”
Steps. Two pairs, right behind me.
Right behind me.
(BGM)
Two young women clad in infamous uniforms walk past me on either side, and I really, really don’t like the way one of them is looking at me. They came from behind me, from the very same route I came from. They were right behind me, but there was no place to hide back there; it was as straight a passage as it could be.
Where the fuck did they come from!?
The two women stand in front of the soldiers, who remain still as statues, but just as ready to fill me with bullet holes.
The slimmer girl with the odd-colored hair acknowledges my presence with a brief nod of salutation. Her bored expression and overall mien suggest a woman of few if any words. I have to assume the syrupy, somewhat hoarse voice from earlier comes from the glasses girl to her left. And I still don’t like the look on the face of that one.Spoiler:
“Greetings, Master of Saber,” says the dark-haired woman still examining me with the clinical eye of a butcher about to decide on the first cut. “Under the supreme authority of Our Lord and Master, His Majesty the Sovereign of the Fourth Reich, and following the instructions of His second-in-command and General, we respectfully ask you to come with us peacefully.”
Well, wasn’t that unnecessarily wordy.
Options…what options do I even have? The altar…isn’t even a solid block, it’s just a table. There’s the ambon right next to me, but it’s wooden, so it’s worthless as cover. And the zombie still stands behind me…
‘The traitor has never been here’, she said. Does that mean I never contacted Assassin, and this zombie was always controlled by these women? Shit, and we came all stealthy, so nobody else knows I’m here.
The glasses girl turns her head to her left, glancing towards the inner balcony.
“So? Is he clean, Elisabeth?”
“Don’t spout my name in front of the enemy, imbecile,” replies very irritated voice—firm and hard like steel—from within the balcony’s shadows, mere moments before its owner reveals herself.
…damn. I mean, yeah, Nazi, irredeemably evil and all that, but, damn.Spoiler:
No, this isn’t just my male libido acting up. This…this is a feeling I’ve already experienced recently, isn’t it?
…Saver?
No, Saver just screams danger, like standing in front of a tiger in the wild. This is more like The Maid; not the one I met last night, but the first time I saw her, at the Unimarc before everything froze.
A presence that owns the place and demands attention. Someone whose presence exudes an aura of “I am special, important and overall amazing.” All these three women are trouble, I can tell at least that much. But this “Elisabeth”…this one triggers all the alarms.
The big question: are they Servants? I wouldn’t be surprised if “Elisabeth” turned out to be one, but I can’t think of any important Nazi women, and certainly not with that name. What was Hitler’s wife named again?
But, there is the way they talk to each other, sort of like equals. I’d like to believe they’re all Servants—in which case I am beyond screwed—or neither of them are.
On that note, it kinda sucks (yet is also kinda relieving) that, for all the Servants apparently trampling all over the place, I have yet to see one other than Maria…
…shit, my mind is rambling. It’s because I’m out of ideas.
I’m fucked here, aren’t I?
Can I at least ask for Elisabeth to do the fucking?
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
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Niiiiice, Nazi waifus. Wait, don't tell me that part of Rider's or Blondie's Nazi Lore Noble Phantasm is getting a free bevy of Ilsas. I mean I wouldn't put that past you Daneel but I'd still be impressed at the stones of it. What a tweest though.
2, 2 I guess
Go big or go home: 1, 1
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1, 1 baby
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