- Location
- Somewhere North of south
Ironic, considering the only likely comfort the unknown soldier would have had in life would be sleep and a prayer for dreams of home.
- Location
- United Kingdom
I always find this to be a clumsy way of creating a relationship between mage and familiar. Hill of Swords did it and now everyone thinks it's canon and just uses it as am emotional shoehorn
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Isn't it canon for the Fate setting that masters can get dreams of their servant's life? Becuase I recall something like this showing up in Fate/Zero.
- Location
- United Kingdom
you know thinking about this I'm not actually sure. I remember it firmly not being a thing... for one of the crossover parts. I'm pretty sure its actually the ZnT franchise that its not a thing, and in fact is fanon because of HoS, but regarding Fate itself, I'm not sure, someone else will have to weigh in. Even if it is though I still maintain its a silly and clumsy thing.
edit, yea in fate its a thing, not ZnT
Masters and Servants share a deep mental connection, so it has been observed that both can see visions of each other's pasts in the form of dreams. It is a known phenomenon said to have widely occurred in the first three Fuyuki wars and the derivative wars of the Fate/Apocrypha world, so those who know of it do not find the experience to be mysterious.[3][4] While Servants do not need to sleep and do not have the capacity to dream even if they force themselves to do so for the purpose of saving energy, Servants can see the pasts of Masters as dreams as well. The viewers sometimes only realize the dreams' nature after waking and are sometimes conscious of themselves within the dreams, but are unable to reject them even if it means intruding on the mind of the other.[5][6]
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jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
So while it's become 'fanon' due to HoS, its still a legitimate tool to use if you want to stick to Fate canon. And while it might not always be a thing for masters, getting plugged into the unknown soldier would most definately result in some.....memories leaking through.
To me if it keeps popping up chapter after chapter then yes, I'd feel it's overdone. However if it's just this chapter while later showing Tiffania's reactions to said dream cycle (because you don't just shake off this sort of thing) and potentialy her talking to her servant etc about it (for the; what by the founder was that) etc; it can be properly used in the fic.
- Location
- Somewhere North of south
Ghost of the Trenches 1.4
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
The sun slowly glides into place straight above everyone in the sky. The previous night's incident is fresh in the minds of everyone. For the younger children were frightened and unable to fall asleep again for the night, the older ones were more concerned than scared, while the teenagers were confused over what exactly it was that happened. Tiffania currently lays in quickly drying mud, unable to completely cope with what she saw.
The masked man leaves after a while and attempts to learn about where it is he finds himself. While everyone is still not trusting him in any capacity, they attempt to not tell him anything and ignore him when possible once they realized he wouldn't harm them. It wasn't maliciously done on their part for the most part, but they couldn't trust the man.
The man asks around attempting to assist wherever he can to find ways to help them all, but in the end, it proves to be a futile effort. He lets out a sigh and thinks about what he could personally do, coming up with an idea he enters Tiffania's room and begins to rummage around for the book he had put in here earlier. The room itself was mostly fine, outside of a mess that its single inhabitant had made last night in their blind panic.
It was a curiosity what caused her to become panicked like that, but until she recovers it will remain a mystery. The man wonders if perhaps it has any relation to why she summoned him. He begins to rummage around looking for one of the books she was carrying on her when she passed out.
He is having trouble finding it. It was not where he thought he put it, nor in the mess, his master made in her rush into the early morning mud. The book wasn't standing out in his mind, it seemed to be an old book one would read to children. If not for the fact she wouldn't let go of it at first, or the faint traces of what he assumed was magic.
While he may not exactly understand what magic was itself, or how it functions, he could barely sense it. At least he thought he could, it was next to impossible to tell whether it was just him assuming something or not. He pauses for a moment. He shouldn't be asking if it was magic he felt, but rather, how would he know if it was magic in the first place?
He doesn't exactly remember coming into contact with magic before the previous day. At least, he thinks so. He continues to search for the book that does not seem to exist anymore. Strangely, he cannot find it now. At least it seems to be before he is hit by another realization. One of the children likely took it thinking it was important and were holding onto it.
Coming to the conclusion that he will not be seeing the book anytime soon. He gives up his search and leaves the room to find something else to do since his original plan was to be thrown away. As enters the main clearing again he finds himself ambushed by a young girl.
She is wearing a simple dress and has her hair tied with something. The girl who looks to be of age to just be entering a school of some sort grabs his leg and pulls. He crouches down unsteadily being thrown off by something.
They stare at each other for a little bit, the girl begins to shy away from the man before he speaks with a strange accent. "What is it little girl?" he questions.
She backs up a little bit unsure about why she did what she did. She turns to run away but as she takes a few steps to run away, she quickly turns around and mumbles something under her breath. The man remains silent for a few seconds and begins to move to ask her to repeat herself before she does exactly that. "'M hun'ry," she says louder this time.
The man makes a sound of confusion before standing up, "Miss Tiffania usually cooks doesn't she?" he asks.
The young girl nods before adding "'ig sis cooks, Mis'er Harold, and Missus Ann help but their food tastes bad…" she trails off.
He nods again, putting a hand under his chin. "I see, you are asking me to cook because I am an adult?" he asks, to which he gets a nod in return. "Then please show me the way to where the cooking is done, I'll cook something up if I can. How many people are here so I know how much I should cook?"
The little girl shrugs, "I dunno, miss Tiffania would know." she informs him.
Letting out a sigh he makes a shooing motion with his hands. "Go along then, I'll see if I can get miss Tiffania to tell me." Seeing clearly that his master was still in the mud not really responding to anything he sighs before approaching her. "Master…" he whispers out, "It is time to get out of the mud. Children are hungry." She doesn't respond except to shiver. "I do not know why you are having a hard time all of a sudden, I only hope you know that if you don't get up soon, things might happen." He states, after a moment she stops shivering for a moment.
After it appears that she doesn't plan to get up however he sighs again before turning to leave. Before he can truly walk away however he feels something grab his leg. Looking at the hand he sees that it is connected to his master. "I saw them, felt them dying…" she lets out with a whisper.
The man's head tilts at what she says before he speaks, "Who?" he questions.
"M...men like you, so many, too many… I saw them die in… in ways, I c...ca...can't understand. I saw them d...die crawling… crawling in the mud." She stutters out, almost mumbling.
The man's posture sharpens a bit at these whispers, however. "Men like me? As in wearing armor and carrying things like mine?" He asks tensely. His only reply is a nod from the woman on the ground. "Forget about them. Forget what you saw, what you felt, what you learned." He says it so matter of factly that it causes both Master and Servant to flinch for a second.
She glares at him, her eyes unfocused. "How can… how can I forget about them? About what happened to them? That I saw them die, over and over and over and over again and again?" she hisses with hostility.
He grumbles something before saying it louder. "It isn't hard. If their families could do it, so can you," he growls out before flinching again. "Forget about their deaths. Forget about what happens to them. Now we are going to cook, nobody here has eaten most likely, should you not get up and help me with rectifying this, I shall just cook until we run out of food to cook." he threatens.
She doesn't reply verbally this time, only glaring at him. She continues to lay in the mud. Disappointed the man begins to walk off. "Twenty-seven" comes the voice of the woman in the mud. Nothing else is said, but the man pauses for a moment. "Ask Jacob were the pots and bowls are." she finishes.
The man simply nods and leaves to go and look for Jacob.
A/N: Criticism/Feedback is appreciated.
The masked man leaves after a while and attempts to learn about where it is he finds himself. While everyone is still not trusting him in any capacity, they attempt to not tell him anything and ignore him when possible once they realized he wouldn't harm them. It wasn't maliciously done on their part for the most part, but they couldn't trust the man.
The man asks around attempting to assist wherever he can to find ways to help them all, but in the end, it proves to be a futile effort. He lets out a sigh and thinks about what he could personally do, coming up with an idea he enters Tiffania's room and begins to rummage around for the book he had put in here earlier. The room itself was mostly fine, outside of a mess that its single inhabitant had made last night in their blind panic.
It was a curiosity what caused her to become panicked like that, but until she recovers it will remain a mystery. The man wonders if perhaps it has any relation to why she summoned him. He begins to rummage around looking for one of the books she was carrying on her when she passed out.
He is having trouble finding it. It was not where he thought he put it, nor in the mess, his master made in her rush into the early morning mud. The book wasn't standing out in his mind, it seemed to be an old book one would read to children. If not for the fact she wouldn't let go of it at first, or the faint traces of what he assumed was magic.
While he may not exactly understand what magic was itself, or how it functions, he could barely sense it. At least he thought he could, it was next to impossible to tell whether it was just him assuming something or not. He pauses for a moment. He shouldn't be asking if it was magic he felt, but rather, how would he know if it was magic in the first place?
He doesn't exactly remember coming into contact with magic before the previous day. At least, he thinks so. He continues to search for the book that does not seem to exist anymore. Strangely, he cannot find it now. At least it seems to be before he is hit by another realization. One of the children likely took it thinking it was important and were holding onto it.
Coming to the conclusion that he will not be seeing the book anytime soon. He gives up his search and leaves the room to find something else to do since his original plan was to be thrown away. As enters the main clearing again he finds himself ambushed by a young girl.
She is wearing a simple dress and has her hair tied with something. The girl who looks to be of age to just be entering a school of some sort grabs his leg and pulls. He crouches down unsteadily being thrown off by something.
They stare at each other for a little bit, the girl begins to shy away from the man before he speaks with a strange accent. "What is it little girl?" he questions.
She backs up a little bit unsure about why she did what she did. She turns to run away but as she takes a few steps to run away, she quickly turns around and mumbles something under her breath. The man remains silent for a few seconds and begins to move to ask her to repeat herself before she does exactly that. "'M hun'ry," she says louder this time.
The man makes a sound of confusion before standing up, "Miss Tiffania usually cooks doesn't she?" he asks.
The young girl nods before adding "'ig sis cooks, Mis'er Harold, and Missus Ann help but their food tastes bad…" she trails off.
He nods again, putting a hand under his chin. "I see, you are asking me to cook because I am an adult?" he asks, to which he gets a nod in return. "Then please show me the way to where the cooking is done, I'll cook something up if I can. How many people are here so I know how much I should cook?"
The little girl shrugs, "I dunno, miss Tiffania would know." she informs him.
Letting out a sigh he makes a shooing motion with his hands. "Go along then, I'll see if I can get miss Tiffania to tell me." Seeing clearly that his master was still in the mud not really responding to anything he sighs before approaching her. "Master…" he whispers out, "It is time to get out of the mud. Children are hungry." She doesn't respond except to shiver. "I do not know why you are having a hard time all of a sudden, I only hope you know that if you don't get up soon, things might happen." He states, after a moment she stops shivering for a moment.
After it appears that she doesn't plan to get up however he sighs again before turning to leave. Before he can truly walk away however he feels something grab his leg. Looking at the hand he sees that it is connected to his master. "I saw them, felt them dying…" she lets out with a whisper.
The man's head tilts at what she says before he speaks, "Who?" he questions.
"M...men like you, so many, too many… I saw them die in… in ways, I c...ca...can't understand. I saw them d...die crawling… crawling in the mud." She stutters out, almost mumbling.
The man's posture sharpens a bit at these whispers, however. "Men like me? As in wearing armor and carrying things like mine?" He asks tensely. His only reply is a nod from the woman on the ground. "Forget about them. Forget what you saw, what you felt, what you learned." He says it so matter of factly that it causes both Master and Servant to flinch for a second.
She glares at him, her eyes unfocused. "How can… how can I forget about them? About what happened to them? That I saw them die, over and over and over and over again and again?" she hisses with hostility.
He grumbles something before saying it louder. "It isn't hard. If their families could do it, so can you," he growls out before flinching again. "Forget about their deaths. Forget about what happens to them. Now we are going to cook, nobody here has eaten most likely, should you not get up and help me with rectifying this, I shall just cook until we run out of food to cook." he threatens.
She doesn't reply verbally this time, only glaring at him. She continues to lay in the mud. Disappointed the man begins to walk off. "Twenty-seven" comes the voice of the woman in the mud. Nothing else is said, but the man pauses for a moment. "Ask Jacob were the pots and bowls are." she finishes.
The man simply nods and leaves to go and look for Jacob.
A/N: Criticism/Feedback is appreciated.
- Location
- United Kingdom
Prose still very purple for such a short piece. Suggest clarifying what you want to do with your tenses as well. You seem to be doing present tense here which I'd avoid on principle but you do you, just consider whether its something you're doing because you're defaulting to it or whether there's better things to do.
Battleship_Fusou
(The Itty-Bitty Pretty Battleship Kitty)
- Location
- Surigao Strait
I would suggest writing more in past tense than in present progressive, as that's the form you most often see in stories. That's my only real bother here, though I'd suggest having Berserker be referred to as such because just saying 'he' over and over again feels repetitive and can make you lose your readers.
That said, your premise is damn interesting and I can't think of a better role for this "Heroic Spirit" than Berserker. After all, WWI was the time the whole world went mad it seemed.
Beyond that, I have to wonder what Tiffiana will think of the dissonance between the blood and horror and the other events should she have the opportunity to witness something like the Christmas Truce.
That said, your premise is damn interesting and I can't think of a better role for this "Heroic Spirit" than Berserker. After all, WWI was the time the whole world went mad it seemed.
Beyond that, I have to wonder what Tiffiana will think of the dissonance between the blood and horror and the other events should she have the opportunity to witness something like the Christmas Truce.
Ghost of the Trenches 1.5
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
Standing in the middle of the collection of buildings, a single man was cooking. He stopped cooking every so often to throw a new ingredient before continuing. Although the cooking didn't cause a pause longer than a second or two, it was still noticeable. Berserker, the newly arrived member of the community, took in the smell of his stew.
It was a wonderful smell, Berserker thought. It smelled of home, that was something they could agree on. How else could they describe the food they made to share with the children. He felt pain in his chest as he took in the sight, smell, and very memories the meal brought back. Home was so far away now…
Before the feeling of homesickness could penetrate his thoughts further a voice calls out for him. The girl from earlier saw him and was running towards the firepit. "Smelled food," she explained, "Fer us 'll?" she questioned.
A smile briefly formed when hearing her question, at least before he is overtaken with sadness once more. "Yes, the food is for everyone here, I should have made enough for everyone to have some to eat. Handing her a bowl he pours some of the stew that was made into it. "Be very careful madem, it is very fresh and very hot. Let it cool down before you eat it," he tells her.
She nods and runs off telling everyone she can that the food was ready. Soon enough almost everyone had stopped by the pit to grab a bowl of food before sitting around in groups eating, enjoying their lunch break. His master may still lay in the mud, but it was different from before. Perhaps the food had broken through her stupor?
Perhaps it brought back memories of home like it had them? Probably not, as far as he could tell, this was her home. There was nothing but doubt there was anything she might have had outside of the community she had built here. That was not to say there wasn't anything connecting her to the outside world, but the doubt was reserved for there being anything that would draw her away from the community.
The laughter on the wind from everyone in one form or another stood out, these children were truly happy. This wasn't a one-time thing. The meal and people might be different, but for them, it was akin to a family. Shudders flew through his body at the thought. A tinge of envy overtakes him before the melancholy returns.
Home and family, two things we will never have again. We may have had them once, but we don't have the option anymore. In an attempt to push away his feelings again he begins to sing a song he knew well. While nobody but him may understand what it is the song means, it is enough to remind him of the only place he has anymore.
Humming along with the tune his thoughts are filled with songs.
If you want to find the general,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
If you want to find the general,
I know where he is,
He's pinning another-
The singing is interrupted once again by the young girl who seems to have taken a liking to him. That is the only reason he could think of why she kept talking to him- "M'st'r, What 'bout 'ig S's? She ain't got an'th'ng to eat…" That put a dent in him emotionally, he won't lie. They were expecting a question about the food, whether it was about what it was, or if they could even have more.
He sighs before grabbing one last bowl. He fills it with food and grabs a utensil to eat it with before walking slowly towards his master. Their last conversation still bugged him.
What did she mean about seeing people like us? Clearly, they hadn't met anyone like us yet so it wasn't reality. Could it have been her dreams? Doubtful, while he hadn't been here for long or given information on the world and exactly what the hell was going on. It feels like there actually isn't a War going on. The lack of help from the grail was a single thing that caused him to be inquisitive.
It's not an issue per se, but it feels like something is missing. Something about this situation feels wrong. Letting out a chuckle they realize that they are just worrying about nothing. While things seem strange, there shouldn't be any doubt that the Grail war is going to continue as intended. While something may have happened, as long as he… they are allowed to have their wish granted it won't matter in the end. What are a few more issues popping up?
He spots where his master has laid for the day so far. As he approaches her distant eyes come into focus at his intrusion into her resting ground.
"Food, one of the children brought up that you hadn't eaten yet. Here, enjoy." I put the bowl down and let it sit there for a moment before walking away. She doesn't move to stop him this time but there is a feeling that she was trying to figure him out or something else just as meaningless.
He begins singing again, more voices in the know sing with him this time. There is a feeling of anger and homesickness spreading throughout him and everyone else. He hums harder, getting notes and the beat wrong, but trying to break out of the situation he is rapidly devolving into.
Looking desperately around for anything to distract him for a moment he sees nothing of interest going on. He sighs as he sits down on the ground. It's as hard at the ground should be, but as time goes on it seems to warp and twist against him. Attempting to swallow him up. He doesn't move, not because he can't but because he cannot afford to. The mud won't swallow him… It can't, not here. There is no thunder, there are no cries of pain. The machine gun isn't screaming at him… not today…
The horror of the mud begins to set in. He attempts to sing louder, more and more voices join him, not all even know the lyrics, they just sing attempting to drown out the memories. The pain, the cries of anger, the mud… He approaches the ending of the song, there is a tempest inside his skull, voices no longer sounding coherent.
If you want to find the private,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
I know where he is...
Before the final verse can be sung, a single voice breaks through the thunder, the rain, the cries of agony…
"M's'er?" it says. He looks up to see the young girl talking to him.
"Wh'ts wrong?" she asks.
The terror begins to return but is cut off quickly this time.
"I am fine. I am just thinking." She doesn't believe you at all, at least that is what you get from the look in her eyes.
"Go, Shoo." They say, "go play and have fun, leave this fool to sit in the mud and rest for a moment. It's been a long time since I last cooked and it took a lot out of me."
You smile, and although it won't reach her, she seems to see something and believe you this time, although hesitantly.
She runs off to play with the other children. After a moment the body pushes itself up on its own. It goes to collect the dishes laying around the area and as he focuses on his task. A traitorous voice though whispers the end of the song.
It doesn't have the same effect as it once did, though, while it didn't at that moment affect them, the words begin to echo in his thoughts. He doesn't recognize them, because right now, there was nothing but dishes that needed to be gathered. Nothing else, nobody missing from the mud, the quiet of the trees, the laughter of the children, all ignored. Dishes needed to be done first. While a simple task, it was something to keep the memories at bay.
If you want to find the private,
I know where he is,
He's hanging on the old barbed wire...
Perhaps he should investigate the surrounding area afterward, and make sure the area was actually safe and sound before the war started in its ernest.
I saw him, I saw him...
War was never a clean thing, so anything he could do to make it better for them would be for the best.
Hanging on the old barbed wire… Hanging on the old barbed wire...
With that last thought, the echoes cease, after all, there is a time for singing, and there is a time for war. It was best to not let the two mix. After all, it was never good for morale to sing those types of songs right before a big fight.
It was a wonderful smell, Berserker thought. It smelled of home, that was something they could agree on. How else could they describe the food they made to share with the children. He felt pain in his chest as he took in the sight, smell, and very memories the meal brought back. Home was so far away now…
Before the feeling of homesickness could penetrate his thoughts further a voice calls out for him. The girl from earlier saw him and was running towards the firepit. "Smelled food," she explained, "Fer us 'll?" she questioned.
A smile briefly formed when hearing her question, at least before he is overtaken with sadness once more. "Yes, the food is for everyone here, I should have made enough for everyone to have some to eat. Handing her a bowl he pours some of the stew that was made into it. "Be very careful madem, it is very fresh and very hot. Let it cool down before you eat it," he tells her.
She nods and runs off telling everyone she can that the food was ready. Soon enough almost everyone had stopped by the pit to grab a bowl of food before sitting around in groups eating, enjoying their lunch break. His master may still lay in the mud, but it was different from before. Perhaps the food had broken through her stupor?
Perhaps it brought back memories of home like it had them? Probably not, as far as he could tell, this was her home. There was nothing but doubt there was anything she might have had outside of the community she had built here. That was not to say there wasn't anything connecting her to the outside world, but the doubt was reserved for there being anything that would draw her away from the community.
The laughter on the wind from everyone in one form or another stood out, these children were truly happy. This wasn't a one-time thing. The meal and people might be different, but for them, it was akin to a family. Shudders flew through his body at the thought. A tinge of envy overtakes him before the melancholy returns.
Home and family, two things we will never have again. We may have had them once, but we don't have the option anymore. In an attempt to push away his feelings again he begins to sing a song he knew well. While nobody but him may understand what it is the song means, it is enough to remind him of the only place he has anymore.
Humming along with the tune his thoughts are filled with songs.
If you want to find the general,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
If you want to find the general,
I know where he is,
He's pinning another-
The singing is interrupted once again by the young girl who seems to have taken a liking to him. That is the only reason he could think of why she kept talking to him- "M'st'r, What 'bout 'ig S's? She ain't got an'th'ng to eat…" That put a dent in him emotionally, he won't lie. They were expecting a question about the food, whether it was about what it was, or if they could even have more.
He sighs before grabbing one last bowl. He fills it with food and grabs a utensil to eat it with before walking slowly towards his master. Their last conversation still bugged him.
What did she mean about seeing people like us? Clearly, they hadn't met anyone like us yet so it wasn't reality. Could it have been her dreams? Doubtful, while he hadn't been here for long or given information on the world and exactly what the hell was going on. It feels like there actually isn't a War going on. The lack of help from the grail was a single thing that caused him to be inquisitive.
It's not an issue per se, but it feels like something is missing. Something about this situation feels wrong. Letting out a chuckle they realize that they are just worrying about nothing. While things seem strange, there shouldn't be any doubt that the Grail war is going to continue as intended. While something may have happened, as long as he… they are allowed to have their wish granted it won't matter in the end. What are a few more issues popping up?
He spots where his master has laid for the day so far. As he approaches her distant eyes come into focus at his intrusion into her resting ground.
"Food, one of the children brought up that you hadn't eaten yet. Here, enjoy." I put the bowl down and let it sit there for a moment before walking away. She doesn't move to stop him this time but there is a feeling that she was trying to figure him out or something else just as meaningless.
He begins singing again, more voices in the know sing with him this time. There is a feeling of anger and homesickness spreading throughout him and everyone else. He hums harder, getting notes and the beat wrong, but trying to break out of the situation he is rapidly devolving into.
Looking desperately around for anything to distract him for a moment he sees nothing of interest going on. He sighs as he sits down on the ground. It's as hard at the ground should be, but as time goes on it seems to warp and twist against him. Attempting to swallow him up. He doesn't move, not because he can't but because he cannot afford to. The mud won't swallow him… It can't, not here. There is no thunder, there are no cries of pain. The machine gun isn't screaming at him… not today…
The horror of the mud begins to set in. He attempts to sing louder, more and more voices join him, not all even know the lyrics, they just sing attempting to drown out the memories. The pain, the cries of anger, the mud… He approaches the ending of the song, there is a tempest inside his skull, voices no longer sounding coherent.
If you want to find the private,
I know where he is,
I know where he is,
I know where he is...
Before the final verse can be sung, a single voice breaks through the thunder, the rain, the cries of agony…
"M's'er?" it says. He looks up to see the young girl talking to him.
"Wh'ts wrong?" she asks.
The terror begins to return but is cut off quickly this time.
"I am fine. I am just thinking." She doesn't believe you at all, at least that is what you get from the look in her eyes.
"Go, Shoo." They say, "go play and have fun, leave this fool to sit in the mud and rest for a moment. It's been a long time since I last cooked and it took a lot out of me."
You smile, and although it won't reach her, she seems to see something and believe you this time, although hesitantly.
She runs off to play with the other children. After a moment the body pushes itself up on its own. It goes to collect the dishes laying around the area and as he focuses on his task. A traitorous voice though whispers the end of the song.
It doesn't have the same effect as it once did, though, while it didn't at that moment affect them, the words begin to echo in his thoughts. He doesn't recognize them, because right now, there was nothing but dishes that needed to be gathered. Nothing else, nobody missing from the mud, the quiet of the trees, the laughter of the children, all ignored. Dishes needed to be done first. While a simple task, it was something to keep the memories at bay.
If you want to find the private,
I know where he is,
He's hanging on the old barbed wire...
Perhaps he should investigate the surrounding area afterward, and make sure the area was actually safe and sound before the war started in its ernest.
I saw him, I saw him...
War was never a clean thing, so anything he could do to make it better for them would be for the best.
Hanging on the old barbed wire… Hanging on the old barbed wire...
With that last thought, the echoes cease, after all, there is a time for singing, and there is a time for war. It was best to not let the two mix. After all, it was never good for morale to sing those types of songs right before a big fight.
- Location
- Too Deep in the Midnight Sea
Very nice story, I can't wait to see how it goes.
If there ever will be a need for the Unknown Soldier to take a name, can I suggest "Harlequin"? At first it sounds absurd, but a theory for the origin of the character is the "ghost of the battlefield", a devil wearing patches of all the uniforms the dead soldiers had worn in life.
If there ever will be a need for the Unknown Soldier to take a name, can I suggest "Harlequin"? At first it sounds absurd, but a theory for the origin of the character is the "ghost of the battlefield", a devil wearing patches of all the uniforms the dead soldiers had worn in life.
Ghost of the Trenches 1.6
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
The sound of metal on dirt can be heard for about twenty feet in any direction. The lone figure is taking their time. While only one, they appear to have made quite a bit of progress. While it wouldn't be used to provide cover to anyone, it could still trip up anyone unused to the environment. Surprisingly while the man, who appeared to be, berserker stood digging alone, he wasn't by himself.
A short distance from him stood a teenager watching him dig. Caution and curiosity had called out to him when he saw the armored man wander off into the forest. This was his chance to make sure the man was who he was saying he was. So he took his chance and followed him into the trees.
He attempted to stay behind by quite a distance to avoid being detected by his target. He grew up in the forest and has the skills to walk around without being spotted by people who aren't used to the area, it was one of his most shining achievements he felt.
So they walked until they were a short distance from the orphanage. The teenager watches as the man pulls a shovel from his belt and begins to dig into the ground. It's slow but steady at first as if he had done this many times before. The boy doesn't know how much time he spent watching the man, only that it was twilight when the man stopped and returned to the buildings.
The next day was just as similar to the one that came before it. The children's Big Sis screamed from wherever she was, although it was a bit different than the mornings cry for help. It still scared the younger children deeply, but it didn't seem as horrific as the first time. The man-made food for them all before going back into the forest to continue digging that hole he was digging.
The teenager watched again losing track of time. Returning to the orphanage the boy was accosted by a young-looking teenager. She appeared to be the oldest of the entire group, excluding the newcomer and the Big Sis Tiffania. "Where have you been going?" she asks him sternly.
The teenager stares at her for a few seconds before looking away towards the ground looking guilty. He remains silent though, not answering her question. "I asked. Where have you been going? Answer my question, Albert." The older girl responds sounding even sterner than before.
This time the boy, Albert, answers her question with a mumble. "What was that? I didn't quite hear what you said, speak clearly," she says back.
The boy returns to being silent before attempting to walk past her. As he walks past her, she turns and grabs him by the back of his shirt. "You will answer me or so help me…" she trails off after making the implied threat to the boy. He turns around and slaps the hand off of his shirt. "...Was jus' keepin an eye on the guy." he explains, putting emphasis on the word guy.
The girl frowns at this, "That doesn't give you an excuse to skip out from your chores. Poor Henry has been doing both of your loads by himself." She tells him. Albert frowns at this before crossing his arms angrily.
The frown deepens as he speaks. "I didn' tell him to do my job too, besides, why aren't you thanking me for keepin an eye on him? I'm trying to keep us safe from whatever it is he has planned." at his words he notices the frown on her face has gotten so stern and grumpy looking, that she could be considered one of the Grams at his old village, at least from what little he remembered.
He hears the sound of someone walking on the dirt approaching them, but before he can look to see who it was the Miss in front of him grabbed him by his shirt and pulls him close, their faces are almost touching. "It. Doesn't. Matter. Get to work, maybe then you'll finish before midnight you insufferable paranoid brute." The boy lets out a snarl at that.
He smacks her hands off his shirt again. "Ya ain't the boss o' me Sara'. Stop givin me orders and commands like you is." He slips back into the accent he had before he got here for a moment near the end. The girl, Sarah, looks gobsmacked for a moment before using one hand to grab him by the shirt for the third time. This time however she slams her other hand, now made into a fist, onto his head.
He lets out a yelp of surprise before he pushes her away. She lands on the ground making a mess of the somewhat nicer looking dress she was wearing. Before she can recover he kicks her in the shin. Letting out a huff he begins to walk away before he is tackled from behind and gets punched, hard, in the back of his head.
He tries to turn over to throw whoever it is on top of him off only to fail. Sarah's voice speaks up, "Eat dirt ya filth' animal, I'll teach ya a less'n. Come 'ere an' I'll beat ya senseless." more hits rain onto him before he feels the weight on him suddenly disappear. Before he can wonder what is going on he's dragged to his feet and is forced to look at whoever it was that did it.
It was an armored chest piece he saw, looking upward he sees the masked man. Looking past him he sees Sarah behind him, or rather off to the side of him. It was at this moment he realized how large the other man was, he towered over him with ease and was wide enough to make it possible to think that he is several people instead of a single one.
"Stop fighting." He says in a strange accent that Albert cannot place. He's heard most of the ways everyone in the surrounding villages talks, and the man doesn't talk like anyone of the villagers, he seems to fit one of the priests or one of the nobles, at least before they got killed by the Revolutionaries.
"Sh' started it." the boy says childishly, before flinching and adding onto it, "I was jus' mindin' my own business' when she came up ta bother me." he finishes lamely keeping an eye on how the man reacts.
The man sighs as he says this. "I saw you push her down, a true gentleman wouldn't dare attempt to soil a woman's dress doing what you just did. You should be ashamed of yourself boy." He turns to Sarah as well and addresses her, "A lady like yourself also should show more decorum. A lady does not attack another person in the manner you had. It's disgraceful." He finishes.
Sarah looks flabbergasted for a moment before attempting to say something. "I wa' jus' teachin' 'im a les-" before she can finish speaking the boy explodes at the man interrupting her.
His face looks red as he shouts. "Ain't proper decor'm you says, Well neither is leavin' Big Sis in tha mud, or tha fact that ya haven't even given us ya name yet. Howzat for decorum you boor." he finishes with a huff.
The Masked man turns to the both of them back and forth for a moment, it could be mistaken as him being unsure about something, but before Albert could capitalize on it the man speaks. "Franz. You may call me Franz, for now, it is one of the many names I have, also the best one for a foitrottl like you." Franz spits out foitrottl out harshly, indicating that it doesn't mean anything nice.
After that, the man just leaves the two slightly confused and angry. Their days continue on in a similar pattern from here on out. The boy would follow Franz into the forest to keep an eye on him, while Sarah ignored his actions completely, only complaining about them to everyone else in the group. However, the new name that the stranger had given them spread like a fire. It seemed quite a bit different from the normal Albion names they all had. The more well-educated teenagers pointed out that it seemed more Tristian and Germanian. They came to the idea that he must be from somewhere along the border of those two countries.
This only seemed to push their curiosity further into the background of the new man. Franz was quite different than what they had dealt with before. After a month of the same routine change began to set in slowly. Big Sis Tiffania no longer screamed loud enough to wake everyone up. The younger children attempted to play with Franz, trying to pull him into their games only for him to blow them off to wander into the forest.
Albert watched as the hole became a ditch, and from a ditch, it became a moat. It was slow at first and didn't have any impact on him until one of the children asked what it was the man was digging. Thinking about how the hole had grown to surround the orphanage and grew larger still, he realized something was amiss. However, to prevent anyone else from worrying he simply answered that Franz was just getting to know the forest as they did.
A/N: Heads up, this chapter was not Beta'd as well as the previous ones were so you are warned, Also, I will take the time to ask if people would be interested in a Q/A in the format of a Chapter or just a normal one, If you all want one at all.
A short distance from him stood a teenager watching him dig. Caution and curiosity had called out to him when he saw the armored man wander off into the forest. This was his chance to make sure the man was who he was saying he was. So he took his chance and followed him into the trees.
He attempted to stay behind by quite a distance to avoid being detected by his target. He grew up in the forest and has the skills to walk around without being spotted by people who aren't used to the area, it was one of his most shining achievements he felt.
So they walked until they were a short distance from the orphanage. The teenager watches as the man pulls a shovel from his belt and begins to dig into the ground. It's slow but steady at first as if he had done this many times before. The boy doesn't know how much time he spent watching the man, only that it was twilight when the man stopped and returned to the buildings.
The next day was just as similar to the one that came before it. The children's Big Sis screamed from wherever she was, although it was a bit different than the mornings cry for help. It still scared the younger children deeply, but it didn't seem as horrific as the first time. The man-made food for them all before going back into the forest to continue digging that hole he was digging.
The teenager watched again losing track of time. Returning to the orphanage the boy was accosted by a young-looking teenager. She appeared to be the oldest of the entire group, excluding the newcomer and the Big Sis Tiffania. "Where have you been going?" she asks him sternly.
The teenager stares at her for a few seconds before looking away towards the ground looking guilty. He remains silent though, not answering her question. "I asked. Where have you been going? Answer my question, Albert." The older girl responds sounding even sterner than before.
This time the boy, Albert, answers her question with a mumble. "What was that? I didn't quite hear what you said, speak clearly," she says back.
The boy returns to being silent before attempting to walk past her. As he walks past her, she turns and grabs him by the back of his shirt. "You will answer me or so help me…" she trails off after making the implied threat to the boy. He turns around and slaps the hand off of his shirt. "...Was jus' keepin an eye on the guy." he explains, putting emphasis on the word guy.
The girl frowns at this, "That doesn't give you an excuse to skip out from your chores. Poor Henry has been doing both of your loads by himself." She tells him. Albert frowns at this before crossing his arms angrily.
The frown deepens as he speaks. "I didn' tell him to do my job too, besides, why aren't you thanking me for keepin an eye on him? I'm trying to keep us safe from whatever it is he has planned." at his words he notices the frown on her face has gotten so stern and grumpy looking, that she could be considered one of the Grams at his old village, at least from what little he remembered.
He hears the sound of someone walking on the dirt approaching them, but before he can look to see who it was the Miss in front of him grabbed him by his shirt and pulls him close, their faces are almost touching. "It. Doesn't. Matter. Get to work, maybe then you'll finish before midnight you insufferable paranoid brute." The boy lets out a snarl at that.
He smacks her hands off his shirt again. "Ya ain't the boss o' me Sara'. Stop givin me orders and commands like you is." He slips back into the accent he had before he got here for a moment near the end. The girl, Sarah, looks gobsmacked for a moment before using one hand to grab him by the shirt for the third time. This time however she slams her other hand, now made into a fist, onto his head.
He lets out a yelp of surprise before he pushes her away. She lands on the ground making a mess of the somewhat nicer looking dress she was wearing. Before she can recover he kicks her in the shin. Letting out a huff he begins to walk away before he is tackled from behind and gets punched, hard, in the back of his head.
He tries to turn over to throw whoever it is on top of him off only to fail. Sarah's voice speaks up, "Eat dirt ya filth' animal, I'll teach ya a less'n. Come 'ere an' I'll beat ya senseless." more hits rain onto him before he feels the weight on him suddenly disappear. Before he can wonder what is going on he's dragged to his feet and is forced to look at whoever it was that did it.
It was an armored chest piece he saw, looking upward he sees the masked man. Looking past him he sees Sarah behind him, or rather off to the side of him. It was at this moment he realized how large the other man was, he towered over him with ease and was wide enough to make it possible to think that he is several people instead of a single one.
"Stop fighting." He says in a strange accent that Albert cannot place. He's heard most of the ways everyone in the surrounding villages talks, and the man doesn't talk like anyone of the villagers, he seems to fit one of the priests or one of the nobles, at least before they got killed by the Revolutionaries.
"Sh' started it." the boy says childishly, before flinching and adding onto it, "I was jus' mindin' my own business' when she came up ta bother me." he finishes lamely keeping an eye on how the man reacts.
The man sighs as he says this. "I saw you push her down, a true gentleman wouldn't dare attempt to soil a woman's dress doing what you just did. You should be ashamed of yourself boy." He turns to Sarah as well and addresses her, "A lady like yourself also should show more decorum. A lady does not attack another person in the manner you had. It's disgraceful." He finishes.
Sarah looks flabbergasted for a moment before attempting to say something. "I wa' jus' teachin' 'im a les-" before she can finish speaking the boy explodes at the man interrupting her.
His face looks red as he shouts. "Ain't proper decor'm you says, Well neither is leavin' Big Sis in tha mud, or tha fact that ya haven't even given us ya name yet. Howzat for decorum you boor." he finishes with a huff.
The Masked man turns to the both of them back and forth for a moment, it could be mistaken as him being unsure about something, but before Albert could capitalize on it the man speaks. "Franz. You may call me Franz, for now, it is one of the many names I have, also the best one for a foitrottl like you." Franz spits out foitrottl out harshly, indicating that it doesn't mean anything nice.
After that, the man just leaves the two slightly confused and angry. Their days continue on in a similar pattern from here on out. The boy would follow Franz into the forest to keep an eye on him, while Sarah ignored his actions completely, only complaining about them to everyone else in the group. However, the new name that the stranger had given them spread like a fire. It seemed quite a bit different from the normal Albion names they all had. The more well-educated teenagers pointed out that it seemed more Tristian and Germanian. They came to the idea that he must be from somewhere along the border of those two countries.
This only seemed to push their curiosity further into the background of the new man. Franz was quite different than what they had dealt with before. After a month of the same routine change began to set in slowly. Big Sis Tiffania no longer screamed loud enough to wake everyone up. The younger children attempted to play with Franz, trying to pull him into their games only for him to blow them off to wander into the forest.
Albert watched as the hole became a ditch, and from a ditch, it became a moat. It was slow at first and didn't have any impact on him until one of the children asked what it was the man was digging. Thinking about how the hole had grown to surround the orphanage and grew larger still, he realized something was amiss. However, to prevent anyone else from worrying he simply answered that Franz was just getting to know the forest as they did.
A/N: Heads up, this chapter was not Beta'd as well as the previous ones were so you are warned, Also, I will take the time to ask if people would be interested in a Q/A in the format of a Chapter or just a normal one, If you all want one at all.
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Lovnag
Clumsy little penguin
- Location
- Antarctica
Great chapter, although I cannot quite pinpoint the direction this is heading yet. It is nice to see Berserker picking himself a name, though.
On the Q/A matter, I think at this point it is fine as is. I'd rather get my answers from the story itself. If you have some stuff that doesn't fit there, then sure, although I think that it is a bit too early for any questions to exist.
On the Q/A matter, I think at this point it is fine as is. I'd rather get my answers from the story itself. If you have some stuff that doesn't fit there, then sure, although I think that it is a bit too early for any questions to exist.
- Location
- USA
If he is building a trench network I wonder if Franz can man it with his other selves.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
It's possible he could be like the Assasin from the 4th War in that he can spawn copies/soldiers etc. I mean, he is a spirit representing the countless unnamed dead of WW1 and 2.
- Location
- wherever
It's also possible Franz has a psychological need to have access to a trench. For the millions of soldiers in the First World War, it was by far the safest thing around when bullets were flying.
Discord
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
Discord - Group Chat That’s All Fun & Games
Discord is great for playing games and chilling with friends, or even building a worldwide community. Customize your own space to talk, play, and hang out.
discord.gg
Made a Channel on a Discord Server I'm on, it's empty mostly besides one other person so far, if you want to join in and create a community or just Shitpost the choice is yours!
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
>RE trenches
If anything trenches are the best option in case of assault.
Even empty, it's a large scale obstacle that has to be cleared, then surmounted. And it will slow any ground attack. Then there's the second most dangerous entity in a "cleared" zone. Boobytraps. Mines. Explosives.
And finally, the trenches will funnel any enemy combatants towards where you wanted to go, say into the firing arc of a Maxim.
If anything trenches are the best option in case of assault.
Even empty, it's a large scale obstacle that has to be cleared, then surmounted. And it will slow any ground attack. Then there's the second most dangerous entity in a "cleared" zone. Boobytraps. Mines. Explosives.
And finally, the trenches will funnel any enemy combatants towards where you wanted to go, say into the firing arc of a Maxim.
Ghost of the Trenches 1.7
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
I see the boy watching me dig the monument to the fallen. Our unmarked grave that countless died in. I doubt he understands what it means to us. He only looks at us and thinks that we are digging a simple hole I guess. The reality is far crueler than that, and I am both saddened and relieved that he doesn't understand it. It saddens me that he won't understand why I dug this, or why I keep doing it. But I am joyous that he may never find out or discover what it is we did in our burrows in the ground.
He seems to hate us however, while I would allow this to continue due to me being a deserving target, him taking out his aggression on the girl is uncalled for. Perhaps I should force his hatred to me far more than it is currently?
Give them all a common foe against me. That would prove to be effective I assume, and it would make the boy more worthy, in his eyes, for seeing what nobody else had seen. At the thought, I stop and think for a moment. I could probably pull it off flawlessly with nobody the wiser, "Yes," we say out loud, "It'll work."
With those words, I turn to where the boy is attempting to hide from me, a tree, and call out to him. "Boy, If you are going to stand there and do nothing all day I'll put you to work. Get over here. Now." Our voice calls out, he seems confused for a moment before I call out again. "Yes, I see you, now get yourself over here and start digging."
Hesitantly he begins to approach me, I know he is unsure of what I mean, but it should work out. It will work out for one of us at least. When he finally gets close enough I throw my shovel at him. He doesn't manage to catch it and it lands on his foot. Letting out several… curses, he picks it up and glares at me.
I glare back at him, although he cannot see it, and order him about. "Boy, did I tell you to stand there? I told you to Dig. So start digging. Now!" although still confused my voice forces him to start digging, almost against his will.
After a few hours, he is up to his knees in the dirt. He starts to slow and I see this as an opportunity. "Did I tell you to slow down? Dig faster or I will beat your hide back and blue with that shovel you're holding!" As if my threat could heal him, he begins to dig faster and more… enthusiastically.
Of course every time he slows I threaten him with more and more creative threats. Though at times I believe the words themselves are lost at him, their intentions are not. Once Night begins to fall, he is exhausted and in a hole that is up to his waist just about. I quickly glance at the pile of dirt next to him and without a second look, kick the dirt into the hole. "Pathetic, Can't even dig a hole good enough to keep the dirt out. You should be ashamed of yourself." His ears start to blush with anger. Good, the taunts are doing what they are supposed to.
He's too tired to pull himself out or to stop me, so I kick more dirt into the hole he dug himself into. I mock him for it until he finally regains enough strength to pull himself out. I mock him as he walks away and once he gets far enough I stop and begin to clean up the mess he dug. I fill in the hole and make sure that it won't cause anything to happen should someone step onto it.
After that, I finally return to the community to keep watch. Nighttime is a dangerous time, if not the most dangerous time. If I don't keep a watch over everything someone may ambush us all while everyone is asleep. It's a tragedy inside a tragedy to die in such away.
I watch as the moons start to cross the sky. It is so strange, looking at the flying rocks that are the moon, to think I am far from home in a totally new way. I doubt anyone cares enough in the end, however. We may be in a new world, but wasn't what we are doing no different than before? Weren't we sent somewhere we have never been to fight in a war we didn't want to be apart of, most of the time?
The location changes constantly, but the intentions and the exact substance of the tale do not. How many men, women, and children died? How many were killed or suffered horrid fates because of this? The mere thought and reminder of what happened all the time bring me to the brink of Madness. Why should they suffer for our mistakes? Our actions?
Just because they were involved against their will, they will suffer with us for the rest of time. Nobody escaped, didn't they? Even those who thought they would, that thought they escaped didn't. Their arrival was just delayed, wasn't it? I feel their cries of pain, of misery. All because of what happened.
Everyone lost so much, and we are losing so much more as the days pass. Every day I see more and more men drift away. They think there is a light in this darkness. I have to remind them, and myself. Remind us that there is no such thing as a war that will end our punishment, our torment.
Everything we did in the war led to terrible things. Everything that happened was our fault, we didn't teach them the lessons we learned. We let the world take a bloody path while we wallowed in our graves. We could have stopped everything, we could have ended the fight and what came after. We didn't and look at the legacy we left.
Peace was no longer possible, too much blood had been spilled and so much suffering on a scale unknown to the world before and after to repair the damage that had been done. No longer would the Sands of Arabia be called home by a united people. No longer will the wasteland glow a vibrant green. No longer would our homes be seen with our own eyes, unburdened by the knowledge we held.
At the thought I feel IT at the edge of my perception, I almost draw it then and there. My weapon, my Noble Phantasm, the realization that using it would do nothing but cause more suffering enrages me more than anything else. Why do we have the reason the madness started? Why do we know that no matter how much good we do, it will be there and taunt us with the knowledge that should we draw it and fire it, nothing will be the same again? That using it would free me, but doom others.
I grab the sides of my head and silently stare at the ground. I close my eyes again. Slowly, forcefully, and I keep them shut. I hear screams, the cries of pain and worse. But they are different, not mine. The screams I heard, they were different from those of the trenches. I opened my eyes, not expecting to see what I presume is a manor. I was being dragged away from it though, and although I could see it growing smaller and smaller, I also saw the fire, the shadows, and heard the blood being shed.
"It's okay, it's okay… I'll take care of you Young Mistress, I… I'll make sure you stay safe. I'll protect you from them. They won't harm you. J… Just go to sleep and when you wake up, everything will be better." I don't recognize the voice, but I know the truth behind what they are saying. It doesn't paint a good picture of what was going on.
Before I can witness more of the strange dream it fades. I wake with a start to the sun peaking over the horizon. What a strange dream, it was not any of ours, not a single voice claims those brief moments after the storm, or before it. Who could they have been if not ours though? Perhaps we forgot it ourselves? It'd be quite the irony, I realize afterward. To forget something, or rather a lesson taught to us from bloodshed. Not again. We won't forget them, whoever they were. Even if we do not remember who it was, or what was going on.
It's the least we can do for them. After all, it's our fault they suffered that fate.
He seems to hate us however, while I would allow this to continue due to me being a deserving target, him taking out his aggression on the girl is uncalled for. Perhaps I should force his hatred to me far more than it is currently?
Give them all a common foe against me. That would prove to be effective I assume, and it would make the boy more worthy, in his eyes, for seeing what nobody else had seen. At the thought, I stop and think for a moment. I could probably pull it off flawlessly with nobody the wiser, "Yes," we say out loud, "It'll work."
With those words, I turn to where the boy is attempting to hide from me, a tree, and call out to him. "Boy, If you are going to stand there and do nothing all day I'll put you to work. Get over here. Now." Our voice calls out, he seems confused for a moment before I call out again. "Yes, I see you, now get yourself over here and start digging."
Hesitantly he begins to approach me, I know he is unsure of what I mean, but it should work out. It will work out for one of us at least. When he finally gets close enough I throw my shovel at him. He doesn't manage to catch it and it lands on his foot. Letting out several… curses, he picks it up and glares at me.
I glare back at him, although he cannot see it, and order him about. "Boy, did I tell you to stand there? I told you to Dig. So start digging. Now!" although still confused my voice forces him to start digging, almost against his will.
After a few hours, he is up to his knees in the dirt. He starts to slow and I see this as an opportunity. "Did I tell you to slow down? Dig faster or I will beat your hide back and blue with that shovel you're holding!" As if my threat could heal him, he begins to dig faster and more… enthusiastically.
Of course every time he slows I threaten him with more and more creative threats. Though at times I believe the words themselves are lost at him, their intentions are not. Once Night begins to fall, he is exhausted and in a hole that is up to his waist just about. I quickly glance at the pile of dirt next to him and without a second look, kick the dirt into the hole. "Pathetic, Can't even dig a hole good enough to keep the dirt out. You should be ashamed of yourself." His ears start to blush with anger. Good, the taunts are doing what they are supposed to.
He's too tired to pull himself out or to stop me, so I kick more dirt into the hole he dug himself into. I mock him for it until he finally regains enough strength to pull himself out. I mock him as he walks away and once he gets far enough I stop and begin to clean up the mess he dug. I fill in the hole and make sure that it won't cause anything to happen should someone step onto it.
After that, I finally return to the community to keep watch. Nighttime is a dangerous time, if not the most dangerous time. If I don't keep a watch over everything someone may ambush us all while everyone is asleep. It's a tragedy inside a tragedy to die in such away.
I watch as the moons start to cross the sky. It is so strange, looking at the flying rocks that are the moon, to think I am far from home in a totally new way. I doubt anyone cares enough in the end, however. We may be in a new world, but wasn't what we are doing no different than before? Weren't we sent somewhere we have never been to fight in a war we didn't want to be apart of, most of the time?
The location changes constantly, but the intentions and the exact substance of the tale do not. How many men, women, and children died? How many were killed or suffered horrid fates because of this? The mere thought and reminder of what happened all the time bring me to the brink of Madness. Why should they suffer for our mistakes? Our actions?
Just because they were involved against their will, they will suffer with us for the rest of time. Nobody escaped, didn't they? Even those who thought they would, that thought they escaped didn't. Their arrival was just delayed, wasn't it? I feel their cries of pain, of misery. All because of what happened.
Everyone lost so much, and we are losing so much more as the days pass. Every day I see more and more men drift away. They think there is a light in this darkness. I have to remind them, and myself. Remind us that there is no such thing as a war that will end our punishment, our torment.
Everything we did in the war led to terrible things. Everything that happened was our fault, we didn't teach them the lessons we learned. We let the world take a bloody path while we wallowed in our graves. We could have stopped everything, we could have ended the fight and what came after. We didn't and look at the legacy we left.
Peace was no longer possible, too much blood had been spilled and so much suffering on a scale unknown to the world before and after to repair the damage that had been done. No longer would the Sands of Arabia be called home by a united people. No longer will the wasteland glow a vibrant green. No longer would our homes be seen with our own eyes, unburdened by the knowledge we held.
At the thought I feel IT at the edge of my perception, I almost draw it then and there. My weapon, my Noble Phantasm, the realization that using it would do nothing but cause more suffering enrages me more than anything else. Why do we have the reason the madness started? Why do we know that no matter how much good we do, it will be there and taunt us with the knowledge that should we draw it and fire it, nothing will be the same again? That using it would free me, but doom others.
I grab the sides of my head and silently stare at the ground. I close my eyes again. Slowly, forcefully, and I keep them shut. I hear screams, the cries of pain and worse. But they are different, not mine. The screams I heard, they were different from those of the trenches. I opened my eyes, not expecting to see what I presume is a manor. I was being dragged away from it though, and although I could see it growing smaller and smaller, I also saw the fire, the shadows, and heard the blood being shed.
"It's okay, it's okay… I'll take care of you Young Mistress, I… I'll make sure you stay safe. I'll protect you from them. They won't harm you. J… Just go to sleep and when you wake up, everything will be better." I don't recognize the voice, but I know the truth behind what they are saying. It doesn't paint a good picture of what was going on.
Before I can witness more of the strange dream it fades. I wake with a start to the sun peaking over the horizon. What a strange dream, it was not any of ours, not a single voice claims those brief moments after the storm, or before it. Who could they have been if not ours though? Perhaps we forgot it ourselves? It'd be quite the irony, I realize afterward. To forget something, or rather a lesson taught to us from bloodshed. Not again. We won't forget them, whoever they were. Even if we do not remember who it was, or what was going on.
It's the least we can do for them. After all, it's our fault they suffered that fate.
Ghost of the Trenches 1.8
Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
As I march towards the trenches being dug once again, something in the air has changed. There is a fog encompassing the buildings. It both reminds me of home and hell.
I don't like the feeling it gives me. It reminds me too much of where I came from, or rather where we died. Shaking our head we begin our march to the trench. It was coming along, soon it would be finished and I could start on the second one. One could never have enough trenches in which to defend the community.
With the… training I did with the one idiot who kept coming, the trench was delayed by a week or so. Though, with his digging abilities much higher than they started out with I could probably use him to assist me with digging the trenches. It is doubtful though, any part he took part in creating would have to be gone over again just to make sure it holds up as well as my portion did.
The day continued the same as the last one, at least until I heard something peculiar. Something completely unexpected. I heard the sound of several horses making their way through the forest. I have no idea why they would be, but it was a terrible sign.
We lift the boy out of the pit he's dug himself into and throw him towards our current living space. We let out a hiss, the air around us turns from a cloudy white to a dirty white with a slight green tint. We see the boy begin to run as we shove him towards the buildings again. He was tearing up slightly and seemed to be scratching as he ran.
We turn to the intruders who seemed to be getting closer and closer. As they approached I heard shouts coming from them. It sounded like several people were shouting at once. I don't know why exactly they were shouting, but it was only giving me more and more time to prepare for their arrival. I noticed the mist was getting slightly greener than it was a while ago. It seemed to match the color of the trees almost, if only in a few spots.
I jump into an open position and prepare to cut the group off should they try to bypass us. It almost pains me to do so, but I must push forward and stand outside of the cover. I wait, the seconds feel like long hours as I hear the approaching horses.
Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop
They still remain distant but are approaching steadily.
Clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clopclip-clop
I feel that they are almost here. The wind itself is telling us what is approaching; however, we do not know where they will stand.
Clip-clopclip-clop clip-cloplip-clopclip-clop clip-clop clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clopclip-clopclip-clop clopclopclopclop
I can see them in the distance, maybe they are here. Soon I will truly see the cause of the disturbance in my routine.
Clopclopclopclop clopclopclopclop clopclopclopclopclop clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
It is all I hear as they approach. I see them, seven riders. It looks like there are actually more as well, though they are dressed differently than the first group. They are both ragtag and fighting as they ride it appears. We draw our weapon, a simple shovel, and motion for them all to head away from the direction they are currently going.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
They aren't listening, they keep riding closer and closer. We steel our heart and aim to kill the horses as they try to pass me. The first goes down and the rider, a well-dressed man who is plumper than the others by a great deal, falls past me. I quickly pull them to the side as we take the other horses down as they are forced into running to their deaths.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop-
Their running is cut off as two to eight men breakthrough. I curse and begin to run towards our master as the remaining riders manage to break through. I underestimated the number of riders that there were. Why were they here, or rather why would their fighting bring them here? We had no idea why as we ran into the grove housing the orphans.
While my brutal killing of their horses did nothing to slow them, apparently the buildings and peaceful life of the charges here managed to lead them to slow down considerably. There does appear to only be a group of three in the village and they are already dismounting and running to take cover amongst the sudden cover they are presented. It clearly won't work with. Now that I have a moment however I notice that they are dressed far nicer than they might have been as the loser to a fight. They must be cowards or something of the like to come out as intact as they have.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
The riders catching up dismount and raise their weapons in preparation to kill either all of the people here or the two cowards. The orphans stunned by the sudden intrusion into their lives finally break free of their shock and begin to run away for cover. Children are thrown into the buildings and they block the entrance from the inside, at least we think they do from the sounds coming from inside. Soon it is just thre- four groups out in the open. My master is attempting to shield several children and get them to safety. The next group is made up of the recently arrived riders, there are eight of them total it appears. The last group has given up on escaping into the crowd and seem to have grabbed a meatshield, a child who hadn't gotten caught up with the correct group. The new riders, who seem much more badly dressed than the first ones, are attempting to make their way towards me.
I interrupt everyone. "Put the child down now, or I will strike you down." This does not seem to convince them to put the child down.
They let out a laugh before speaking. "...ahaha, we aren't putting the little goblin down. You and your revolutionary scumbag friends can die! Brimir take you!"
I tilt my head at that. "Revolutionaries? What Revolutionaries? All I see are two forces deciding to brutalize the people here. I attempted to lead you away from here, now drop the child and leave."
Taking a chance my Master springs into action and runs towards the group holding the child hostage. She tackles the one holding the child, forcing herself between the two. The child falls but the cowards at losing their hostage punch my Master. We run towards them while behind me I hear the riders gasp in fear.
Our master is now hatless and on the ground and for some reason every one of the new arrivals are staring in shock and horror. I take the opening and land a blow against the coward who punched my master. The blow knocks him down and their ally lets out a curse and attempts to swing their weapon, a sword, at me. I hit the coward between the legs causing them to flinch. I take the moment given to me to knock their arm into position for me to throw them onto the ground.
The third one taking the time to go for our master instead of assisting their comrades. Cowards taking the time to try and take my master hostage… I quickly draw my weapon, a Beretta Model 1915. The Semi-Automatic Service Pistol lets out a bark before the shot goes through its target. Said target falls to the ground and lets out an anger-filled cry of some sorts. "...ELF…", I do not manage to catch the full scream, only one portion of the yell. This cry of sorts breaks the rest of the groups out of their reveries.
We feel our blood pumping in our ears as they chatter amongst themselves. They seem stunned at something and I don't care enough to attempt to figure out why. I look back to the group I just disabled and spot the child on the ground. I let out a rough bark at the child and they ran towards the group our master was protecting. I make sure they make it to the group before looking to my master who put their hat on again. I let out another order towards her to get back.
The rider completely recovered, readying themselves for a charge at us for whatever reason. I do not know what they are saying exactly, only that they are hostile towards our master.
I let out a roar and charge them with my shovel. Seven of them take up my challenge. The first begins to near me and I send my shovel towards their blade. It doesn't break the sword but it does push it aside. I kick their knee, hearing a crack. As they fall to the ground, I grab them by the neck lifting them to take the strike from his compatriot. We grab the sword that has impaled the first rider and pull towards me. The rider holding onto it lets go and I throw the soon-to-be corpse to the side.
Impaling them on my own weapon, I draw our pistol again and quickly fire several rounds into the next three riders. They go down and I run forward again. One attempts to run away, dropping their weapon in the process. The other has stopped charging and is preparing for our charge. I decide to humor them by charging right for them. Instead of swinging my weapon or deflecting theirs, I do the unexpected and tackle them to the ground. I scramble to stand up, the last rider trying to flee gets my attention. Stomping on the downed man's chest several times I pick them up and struggle to throw them.
They don't make it but it does cause the runner to fall to the ground due to them tripping over themselves in fear. I rush to the blade they dropped and pick it up. I make my way to the downed men and finish them off swiftly. I killed the first one, cutting off their head, and I make my walk towards the last man deliberate. Knowing I am just playing with him he cowers, begging for mercy. I silence them with a jab through the heart.
As the sword pierces the rider's skin, a scream is let out behind me. A gunshot explodes out from a rifle that appears out of nowhere. As the sword impales their heart and I look up I spot a man wearing a gas mask similar to mine. Their rifle still pointed over our shoulder. It fires two more times before the man holding it grabs us by our collar. "Don't be sloppy next time... 'Franz'." he spits out the name given to us and points behind us. Turning, I see two additional corpses to the one I left over there initially.
The first is attempting to run away like the last rider here, while the other is draped over my master. It looks as if they were both either trying to flee or take a hostage. The man who attempted to take the hostage has a single shot going through their head which seems to have killed the poor maniac easily enough.
The other fool who attempted to run, and surprisingly made it farther than we expected them to get considering what was going on here. They had two shots upon inspecting them. One through the knee, the other through his heart. A painful way to go all things considered.
I notice all the corpses and how they are not in the cleanest conditions. I sigh and speak up. "Master, get cleaned up and I shall take care of the bodies. After making sure you yourself are good, please ensure the safety of the children." She nods shaking, though not as perturbed as she should be all things considered.
I finish the day burying the dead in some pit that only took me a little time to dig. I dump them in there and say a prayer as I fill up the hole. It's better than they deserve but everyone deserves a chance at heaven. Something we never got.
A/N: And this is the end of the Prologue. I tried to do some different stuff than usual so sorry if it seems different in a bad way. Also posting from mobile so please point out any format errors when you have a minute.
I don't like the feeling it gives me. It reminds me too much of where I came from, or rather where we died. Shaking our head we begin our march to the trench. It was coming along, soon it would be finished and I could start on the second one. One could never have enough trenches in which to defend the community.
With the… training I did with the one idiot who kept coming, the trench was delayed by a week or so. Though, with his digging abilities much higher than they started out with I could probably use him to assist me with digging the trenches. It is doubtful though, any part he took part in creating would have to be gone over again just to make sure it holds up as well as my portion did.
The day continued the same as the last one, at least until I heard something peculiar. Something completely unexpected. I heard the sound of several horses making their way through the forest. I have no idea why they would be, but it was a terrible sign.
We lift the boy out of the pit he's dug himself into and throw him towards our current living space. We let out a hiss, the air around us turns from a cloudy white to a dirty white with a slight green tint. We see the boy begin to run as we shove him towards the buildings again. He was tearing up slightly and seemed to be scratching as he ran.
We turn to the intruders who seemed to be getting closer and closer. As they approached I heard shouts coming from them. It sounded like several people were shouting at once. I don't know why exactly they were shouting, but it was only giving me more and more time to prepare for their arrival. I noticed the mist was getting slightly greener than it was a while ago. It seemed to match the color of the trees almost, if only in a few spots.
I jump into an open position and prepare to cut the group off should they try to bypass us. It almost pains me to do so, but I must push forward and stand outside of the cover. I wait, the seconds feel like long hours as I hear the approaching horses.
Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop
They still remain distant but are approaching steadily.
Clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clopclip-clop
I feel that they are almost here. The wind itself is telling us what is approaching; however, we do not know where they will stand.
Clip-clopclip-clop clip-cloplip-clopclip-clop clip-clop clip-clopclip-clop clip-clopclip-clopclip-clopclip-clop clopclopclopclop
I can see them in the distance, maybe they are here. Soon I will truly see the cause of the disturbance in my routine.
Clopclopclopclop clopclopclopclop clopclopclopclopclop clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
It is all I hear as they approach. I see them, seven riders. It looks like there are actually more as well, though they are dressed differently than the first group. They are both ragtag and fighting as they ride it appears. We draw our weapon, a simple shovel, and motion for them all to head away from the direction they are currently going.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
They aren't listening, they keep riding closer and closer. We steel our heart and aim to kill the horses as they try to pass me. The first goes down and the rider, a well-dressed man who is plumper than the others by a great deal, falls past me. I quickly pull them to the side as we take the other horses down as they are forced into running to their deaths.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop-
Their running is cut off as two to eight men breakthrough. I curse and begin to run towards our master as the remaining riders manage to break through. I underestimated the number of riders that there were. Why were they here, or rather why would their fighting bring them here? We had no idea why as we ran into the grove housing the orphans.
While my brutal killing of their horses did nothing to slow them, apparently the buildings and peaceful life of the charges here managed to lead them to slow down considerably. There does appear to only be a group of three in the village and they are already dismounting and running to take cover amongst the sudden cover they are presented. It clearly won't work with. Now that I have a moment however I notice that they are dressed far nicer than they might have been as the loser to a fight. They must be cowards or something of the like to come out as intact as they have.
Clopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclopclop
The riders catching up dismount and raise their weapons in preparation to kill either all of the people here or the two cowards. The orphans stunned by the sudden intrusion into their lives finally break free of their shock and begin to run away for cover. Children are thrown into the buildings and they block the entrance from the inside, at least we think they do from the sounds coming from inside. Soon it is just thre- four groups out in the open. My master is attempting to shield several children and get them to safety. The next group is made up of the recently arrived riders, there are eight of them total it appears. The last group has given up on escaping into the crowd and seem to have grabbed a meatshield, a child who hadn't gotten caught up with the correct group. The new riders, who seem much more badly dressed than the first ones, are attempting to make their way towards me.
I interrupt everyone. "Put the child down now, or I will strike you down." This does not seem to convince them to put the child down.
They let out a laugh before speaking. "...ahaha, we aren't putting the little goblin down. You and your revolutionary scumbag friends can die! Brimir take you!"
I tilt my head at that. "Revolutionaries? What Revolutionaries? All I see are two forces deciding to brutalize the people here. I attempted to lead you away from here, now drop the child and leave."
Taking a chance my Master springs into action and runs towards the group holding the child hostage. She tackles the one holding the child, forcing herself between the two. The child falls but the cowards at losing their hostage punch my Master. We run towards them while behind me I hear the riders gasp in fear.
Our master is now hatless and on the ground and for some reason every one of the new arrivals are staring in shock and horror. I take the opening and land a blow against the coward who punched my master. The blow knocks him down and their ally lets out a curse and attempts to swing their weapon, a sword, at me. I hit the coward between the legs causing them to flinch. I take the moment given to me to knock their arm into position for me to throw them onto the ground.
The third one taking the time to go for our master instead of assisting their comrades. Cowards taking the time to try and take my master hostage… I quickly draw my weapon, a Beretta Model 1915. The Semi-Automatic Service Pistol lets out a bark before the shot goes through its target. Said target falls to the ground and lets out an anger-filled cry of some sorts. "...ELF…", I do not manage to catch the full scream, only one portion of the yell. This cry of sorts breaks the rest of the groups out of their reveries.
We feel our blood pumping in our ears as they chatter amongst themselves. They seem stunned at something and I don't care enough to attempt to figure out why. I look back to the group I just disabled and spot the child on the ground. I let out a rough bark at the child and they ran towards the group our master was protecting. I make sure they make it to the group before looking to my master who put their hat on again. I let out another order towards her to get back.
The rider completely recovered, readying themselves for a charge at us for whatever reason. I do not know what they are saying exactly, only that they are hostile towards our master.
I let out a roar and charge them with my shovel. Seven of them take up my challenge. The first begins to near me and I send my shovel towards their blade. It doesn't break the sword but it does push it aside. I kick their knee, hearing a crack. As they fall to the ground, I grab them by the neck lifting them to take the strike from his compatriot. We grab the sword that has impaled the first rider and pull towards me. The rider holding onto it lets go and I throw the soon-to-be corpse to the side.
Impaling them on my own weapon, I draw our pistol again and quickly fire several rounds into the next three riders. They go down and I run forward again. One attempts to run away, dropping their weapon in the process. The other has stopped charging and is preparing for our charge. I decide to humor them by charging right for them. Instead of swinging my weapon or deflecting theirs, I do the unexpected and tackle them to the ground. I scramble to stand up, the last rider trying to flee gets my attention. Stomping on the downed man's chest several times I pick them up and struggle to throw them.
They don't make it but it does cause the runner to fall to the ground due to them tripping over themselves in fear. I rush to the blade they dropped and pick it up. I make my way to the downed men and finish them off swiftly. I killed the first one, cutting off their head, and I make my walk towards the last man deliberate. Knowing I am just playing with him he cowers, begging for mercy. I silence them with a jab through the heart.
As the sword pierces the rider's skin, a scream is let out behind me. A gunshot explodes out from a rifle that appears out of nowhere. As the sword impales their heart and I look up I spot a man wearing a gas mask similar to mine. Their rifle still pointed over our shoulder. It fires two more times before the man holding it grabs us by our collar. "Don't be sloppy next time... 'Franz'." he spits out the name given to us and points behind us. Turning, I see two additional corpses to the one I left over there initially.
The first is attempting to run away like the last rider here, while the other is draped over my master. It looks as if they were both either trying to flee or take a hostage. The man who attempted to take the hostage has a single shot going through their head which seems to have killed the poor maniac easily enough.
The other fool who attempted to run, and surprisingly made it farther than we expected them to get considering what was going on here. They had two shots upon inspecting them. One through the knee, the other through his heart. A painful way to go all things considered.
I notice all the corpses and how they are not in the cleanest conditions. I sigh and speak up. "Master, get cleaned up and I shall take care of the bodies. After making sure you yourself are good, please ensure the safety of the children." She nods shaking, though not as perturbed as she should be all things considered.
I finish the day burying the dead in some pit that only took me a little time to dig. I dump them in there and say a prayer as I fill up the hole. It's better than they deserve but everyone deserves a chance at heaven. Something we never got.
A/N: And this is the end of the Prologue. I tried to do some different stuff than usual so sorry if it seems different in a bad way. Also posting from mobile so please point out any format errors when you have a minute.
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Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Well, their hearts still beat to the cadence of guns, certainly. But what will fill the lull to come?
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- North Carolina
We'll, they killed and fought, and the enemy died as a soldier should.
Now they must break the confines and make their way to the end alive.