Pseudo-Singularity 5: Krakka Drakk
The Blind Dragon
"Cu, don't kill him!" The Chaldean speaks with a voice like pressed glass as he clings to a particularly smug example of the same creatures you'd seen dead among the fimir, helmet shut and resembling nothing so much as the snarling face of a lion, a long spear gripped in her hand. Not like the elves' though, hers was like three strings tied and bound together like knots until it reaches a viciously sharp point; sharp enough, even, and enchanted enough that Barak Azmar had sparked and not from mere friction when it had slammed into you, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs though in turn you'd slammed Zharrgal into her armor hard enough to leave a latticework of cracks on the ground. Her armor, not particularly artful but for the helmet, had held well enough that you must acknowledge its usefulness. But from the grunt of pain, she'd felt that.
Meanwhile, across from you, a man with blue hair tied into a long ponytail at the back and kept short at the front--a ridiculous look if you've ever seen one--holds his oddly shaped staff at you, hoping to ward you. A plain black shirt and blue and white robe are draped over his form, revealing a not unimpressive form. "Tell him that!"
"Now is when I fulfill the tenets of my Guild!" Zharrgal sings as you let loose, only for the Sorcerer before you to slam his staff into the ground, and a great hand of wood to rise up and catch it by the handle. Faster than the creatures of Slaanesh, and annoyingly durable too, these creatures, if not up to dwarf standards.
"If you kill him, we'll never shake the Dawi!" The knight shakes her head even as she smashes her fist into one of the ranger's guts, sending him to the ground reeling but still breathing. Well good for her, not adding murder to her list of crimes. Now if only she had enough sense not to protect two sorcerers.
"I would not be so sure master, the Dwarfs of our world are little less tolerable when 'provoked' and considering this one is screeching about Chulainn's theft..."
"The Runes, fool! The Runes! None may steal them and yet live and so that servant of Chaos has! And so he must die, and the lot of you too if you won't step aside."
"...I wouldn't count on these being any more so."
"He is my friend." The sorcerer stares at you hardly, keenly, meeting your own baleful gaze and not quivering. "I do not step aside. Not ever."
You nod in respect for that, and then advance towards the thief. "The more important thing to note," 'Cu' (since repeating Sorcerer is getting particularly repetitive even for you at this point) says, "is that I did not steal anything, least of all the Runes!" He knocks aside an overhead blow aimed at gutting him with your axe, hooks Zharrgal with his staff and then whirling it around slams it into your chest where it explodes with hot but not scorching fire.
Hmph.
Fool.
Again Zharrgal rings out but this time it slams into Cu, sending him flying through the air until he slams into the frosty tree and knocks all snow to the ground and on top of him, covering him. The Chaldean raises a fist and clenches it and arcane scribbling, though not Runes, burns in a fiery red circle that melts the snow and knits the wounds that cover Cu, letting him get back up on shaky feet. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted I did not steal the Runes! I was taught them by Scathach, who learned them from the Norse, who gained them by way of Odin who ripped his own damn eye out and strung himself up on the tree to see the damn things in the Otherworld!"
Bah, a likely story. Only one has ever held the strength to journey to the Glittering Realm and shape it and take the Runes for Himself and that is Thungni and not this...Odin fellow. And in any case, the vow is clear. "Chaos' deceit grows less and less convincing with age, Umgi."
"...You really are planning on killing him, aren't you? Just because he knows something you find inconvenient?" The Chaldean looks to his knight and bondsman and sighs, before breathing shakily. Instinct compels you to draw up Mhorni discretely, the elemental making its way from the earth where you had first seen the interlopers' intrusion. "Artoria. I still don't want him dead, but you no longer need to be gentle."
"Excellent idea, master." A golden, shining light begins to flow throughout the lance she holds in her hand, filling the forest clearing where you had first seen the manling cast a Rune of Fire from his staff, misshaped and malformed on account of his shoddy work but still, to your keen eyes, obvious. "Rhongomyniad!"
The golden light flies out, a searing, streaming beam hot enough that it melts the snow and lights the clearing. Certainly the rest of the rangers will have seen it, in the brief moment of its existence. The trees lose the snow that has made their branches droop and fall, the pine needles reflecting the sun-hued weapon as it exposes the emerald sea of grass underneath. It is deceptively fast for something its size, fast and you have little enough doubt its master can compel it to move. No, it's going to hit.
Mhorni finally bursts out of the earth, where the Sorcerer had put him, and directly in the path of the beam. He holds out his hand, palm open, and it explodes on impact, a shockwave that clears the snow and ice from the entire clearing. Mhorni smokes slightly, sizzling in the now superheated air, but still standing, if not unharmed then still worthy to fight.
But who says it has to hit you?
"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that!"
She barks a laugh, spurs her horse, and launches at you.
So guess who recently started playing FGO?
