76346C- The Ruin-Eyed Demon's Master
A/N: Blah blah, OCs are evil, blah blah. I'll try and make...
A/N: Blah blah, OCs are evil, blah blah. I'll try and make...
76346C- The Ruin-Eyed Demon's Master (ZnT)
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Part Un
7734
Trust and verify.
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- Philmont
76346C- The Ruin-Eyed Demon's Master
A/N: Blah blah, OCs are evil, blah blah. I'll try and make it worth it.
It was the eighth of December on the freezing mud in the Orchest fortress, thirty five miles south of the Grand Pass. Sitting behind my battered war-tractor, I cursed slightly as another spell-bolt rammed the earth before exploding in a white fireball. They were just saturating our empty backfield now, our stalwart anti-air batteries crippled by lack of ammunition at their readabouts. Orchest was never meant to be held, designed only to serve to blunt the Crusaders wrath while the Air Navy marshaled their forces and the civilian populations got to ground as the Grand Pass fortified its already-massive armaments. As the riflemen on the earthworks snapped away and the chainguns rattled, I snorted quietly. This was not one of the mightier Crusades launched in recent years, if they couldn't marshal enough artillery to batter down our fort or enough mages to suppress the walls for an assault. Instead, the pikemen and heavy infantry huddled in their moles, while arquebusiers and serpentets tried to fight back in a parody of modern siegecraft. My role in this, as a dedicated Grimus taught to hunt mages, was simple- sit in the aforementioned backfield, and wait for one of their corvettes to try and run the short-ranged nests of forty-milimetre flak and drop a mage team instead of pissing away ammunition in an attempt to destroy buildings ten feet underground.
So far, I was having a good day in that none of their corvettes had actually gotten close to the line in the sky that signaled the range of our hundred-twenty-five millimetre flak batteries, which were shot dry on their few dedicated colliers back when they attempted to overfly us. Now it was down to a pissing contest between our respective infantry while their engineers tried to run a mole in close enough to push home an assault by their antiquated pikes. A forlorn hope of pike had worked in the past, so running men with glorified pointy sticks into the hell of rapid-fire weapons and landmines wasn't totally baseless. Just stupid.
I still had to make sure my many layers of armor still fit, though. Shrapnel had killed more men on both sides than anything else from the first days of firearms, and second-most save disease before then. From the double-layer leather greatcoat with ironwood plates backed in brass, to the dragonhide undervest, to the heavy steel breastplate and backplate and dragonbone laminate armor extensions to sit on the greatcoat; to the mess of rigging that held my gun, sword, rifle, bayonet, grimus-rod, reagents, ammunition, and backpack; to the heavy helmet with Ruina filters, glass lenses, and mage-gas proof seals that locked into the treated cottonate underlayer; I was equiped for war in the manner fitting of one of my experience. All two years of it, mind, but that was still enough. A good grimus was supposedly worth his weight twice over- once in gold, and once in the amount of equipment that went into making him the most individually potent weapon in the Holy and Free Kingdom of Blackrock's arsenal of very potent weapons.
Traipsing forward to the trenches, I rolled my neck and looked out over to the mole. A few arquebusiers took potshots at me, but a wave of the hand put up a light shield that deflected the rounds harmlessly. The Enemy was trying to push rusty spades and picks into the volcanic crust that was most of Blackrock's soil, and failing miserably while men firing weapons three times their age tried to push a determined and well-equipped enemy out of their fieldworks. News at eleven, gossip at midnight. Leaving the works, I started back to my war-tractor when it hit me. A faint chanting, a delicate cantrip. A desire, born on the winds of Fate.
"I beg of you… My servant who lives somewhere in the universe! Oh sacred, beautiful and strong familiar spirit! I desire and here I plead from my heart! Answer to my guidance!"
"Oh, fuck."
***
A grimus is, as far as magic-wielding humans go, really weird. For example, traditional healing doesn't work on us- but blasting us with massive amounts of atmospheric and gaseous Ruina gets us up and fighting every time, because we can metabolize it, but traditional healing just gets warped into a cute knot by how much Ruina we had in our bodies.
Apparently, so did the utter lack of said atmospheric Ruina. Gasping like a fish out of water, I rolled over onto the grass from my back, and a part of me started screaming loudly. Grass only grew in areas with an atmospheric Ruina count of below four hundred parts per million, and only grew green at less than fifty parts per million. Dandelions only had yellow heads at less than twenty five! There was an entire clean room at the University of Blackrock to grow these so grimuses knew what they looked like, and there was one not five feet from my nose! Where in the Halls of Flame was I?!
That's when I heard it, a garbled chanting. Peaking up, I looked around, and gulped. I was surrounded by mages, wands out. Student mages, to be true, and as such probably squishy enough that a bullet each would work to kill 'em, but I didn't have enough bullets or local Ruina to do it. The Senior Mage, their teacher, was also holding a fuckhuge fireball aimed at me. Looks like fighting my way out in a blaze of glory would be a "no", then. As the girl-mage in front of me finished talking, she strode boldly towards me, wand hand shaking. Stepping back, I tripped, my equipment rattling as I fell on my ass. Bending down, the girl kissed me on my helmet for some reason. I just looked at the Senior Mage, and wisely put my hands into the air. The girl, pink hair bouncing, grabbed my collar and tried to drag me up. As she did, I gulped and followed her meekly. Looks like I was booty of a mage school, which probably meant little things like torture, vivisection, and the eventual activation of the suicide rune at the back of my skull so that the before didn't happen for very long.
Hell, if I was going by the book I should have already pulled the trigger and taken the six-inch thermal bloom turning my head into ashes already. But, something told me not to- that this wasn't what it appeared. Following the pink-haired girl, we went up several floors, until she opened the door and pushed me into… her quarters? Was I the bedslave of some pre-pubescent slip of a girl with more magic than sense?! When she pointed at me and made a gesture, speaking, I shrugged. Shutting the door, I turned back to her, and shrugged again. Slapping her head with her hand, she grabbed a stool and stood on it to grab at my helmet, trying to rip it off. At this point, I chuckled. She was still a kid, even if she was one of the Enemy, and I could always try to turn her away from their path if she turned out to be a good sort. After all, she had yet to try to molest me, despite a massive opportunity that was just sitting there. Even if I was still armed to the teeth, resistance was a bad idea- I had no doubt their teacher could blast me into a nice little pile of cinders, me being a grimus or no.
No, don't ask me why all mages are massive horndogs intent on having all the sex. I don't know. The only side effects of magic a grimus had to deal with were getting covered in the surface markings tanamount to reagentless casting and the internal bodily storage of Ruina. On the plus side, no leaving by-blows all over the place, so yay. On the minus side, portraits were as expensive as fuck because of how many markings we had, so it balanced out in theory.
Unlocking the seals on my helmet, I popped the removal tabs in the back and front to open the faceguard. Once this was done, I rolled it to the right to undog the bayonet lock, and popped the helmet off. The girl took one look at my face, and screamed.
"I know I'm a grimus, and we're covered by Taintmarks from head to toe," I muttered, "but for Pyrine's sake stop screaming at me like a troll-child in the garden."
More screaming, followed by her grabbing her wand and pointing it at me.
"Oh, shit…"
The girl yelled out a spell, which produced a rather large explosion that knocked us both back. Grabbing at my rod, I threw up a weak shield to protect myself in case another explosion followed.
"The hell was that for!" I yelled at her, my temper snapping. "I surrendered, goddamnit!"
"Why won't you listen to me, you moronic familiar!" she replied, heated.
"Because you were speaking gibberish! Now explain that last bit!"
As the girl's jaw dropped, you sighed and held your head in your hands. Why did this happen? More importantly, why did it happen to me? Most importantly, how soon could I go home to the beautiful black plains of Naosund?
"You are my familiar." the pink-haired girl said, transitioning from shock to anger in a heartbeat. "My slave, my pet, my servant, granted to me by Brimir and bound to me by magic! I summoned you, dog, and you are mine!"
Ahhh. As an explanation, it was piss. That tone, however. That vicious hiss. I could work with that…
"And let me guess," I said, slipping into a sardonic grin. "That the last step to the summoning ritual was that kiss, which never touched me, and as such didn't activate."
"Ack-!" went the girl. All according to plan.
"Of course, you summoned me, and I am almost obligated to go along with this plan… if there was something in it for me. Care to sweeten the pot, honey?"
At this, the girl drew her wand and pointed it at me- and then froze. My pistol was staring her straight in the eye, and the large bore of a Knightbreaker loaded with spellshot was no mean negotiation tool.
"I'll take that as a 'no' then" I said, sighing. Holstering the pistol, I took a deep breath, and then left the room. Closing the door behind me, I started walking around carefully, trying to avoid getting intercepted. I needed to find the kitchens, and get some food. Afterwords, a room where I could set my gear down, and maybe sleep. After hearing a few remarks to the tune of "What is the Zero's familiar doing out and about?", I finally started smelling food. I had to be getting close! Of course, I made one critical miscalculation- how sneaky little miss pinky was. I hadn't put my helmet back on, so when she snuck up behind me and brained me with a candlestick for running away, I went down like a light.
***
Several hours later, I woke up with a splitting headache, none of my guns, and the kind of post-konk-on-the-head thirst that demands saiting. Grabbing my waterskin, I pulled it loose and drained it, sighing as I looked up. The pink-haired chick was still standing there, fuming.
"I am Louise de la Valiére, and you will obey me, not run off!" she shreiked, enraged. I just sighed, looking at her. Yell at me once, shame on you. Yell at me twice, shame on me. And right now, third time was not the charm.
"Funny, I heard things more along the lines of Louise the Zero." I quiped, standing. "Of course, they'll laugh even harder if I tell them you borked the summoning ritual, too."
"I'll kill you!!"
"Try."
At this, Louise stepped back, and I smiled very, very faintly. My Taintmarks were igniting, now, glowing that rich shade of violet that signaled I was hot to trot and ready to throw down. My rod was in my hand, and a purple mist wreathed the other, ready to cast at the drop of a hat. Smiling, I let the flaps in my cheeks pull back, showing off my teeth, all forty of them. Considering the fact that the Marokans and Cavish had at most thirty-two or less nor regrew lost teeth, it was often considered intimidating to them. Apparently, Lousie agreed. Laughing, I pulled out a bottle of Taintwine and grinned.
"Drink." I said, shoving it at her. She shook her head, and I tried to modulate my tone. This was the really hard bit here- getting a mage to take the first steps away from the "light" and towards reality.
"W-w-why? Why should I drink this?" she asked, scared. Good- she was smart enough to be afraid, and to be cowed. First impressions were everything, and I wanted this one to stay by her for the rest of her life.
"You pled from your heart when you summoned me, Louise. Sacred, beautiful, and strong. When I left, I heard of you, by name. 'Oh, my, the Zero's familiar is loose!' 'Louise can't control even a peasent!' 'To see such a mighty house produce a null child! How her mother must be ashamed!' was what I heard!"
Not technically true, but I didn't take three semesters of theatre for arguing myself into a promotion.
"Shut up, brute!"
"Oh, as if you could force me to! I'm exactly what you asked for, after all. A Deacon of the Black Church- sacred to many, in my home. Beautiful, I have been called by my lusts and bedmates from the Royal University to the zemlyanka outside of Orchest. As for strong? Do you really need a demonstration? I am a Hazekiller, taught to rend Mages as they wonder at their deaths!"
Alright, while the shock was still flowing in, time to seal the deal. I needed a patron, someone to protect me, and being a familiar looked good enough from here. I also needed to start empire-building, and little miss haughty here had to have at least a barony, if not a county. A village could do in a pinch, but I'd rather not. The only problem was that she was a noble, so she was either a cynical little gal or coated in ideals a foot thick. I doubted the later, which directed my tone in the final part of my monologue.
"Of course, there's something you'd rather have a thousand times over rather than a familiar, Louise. You could have called forth Carolus Rex himself and still be berfit, if you could have but one thing."
It took he a moment, as it trickled through the poor girl's brain.
"Magic." Louise gasped, looking at the bottle in a new light.
"I can give it to you, Louise," I said, gently now. Very, very gently. Lip flaps closed, Tainmarks faded, throw a little light behind you for backlighting, and pray to the Ghost of Fyire that this worked. "All I need you to do is make me your familiar, and finish the ritual. A kiss on the lips, and then drink the bottle dry." Touch, almost stroke her now, keep her off balance. "You're Dry-born, so you shouldn't get any Taintmarks. Nobody will know, and you can cast magic I teach you." Creep in, closer. Make yourself an easy target. "Forget the title of Zero. Take this, and I promise you a new title. Louise, the Violet Mage."
One clumsy kiss later, I was on fire. I was not at all surprised, here- this was Ritual magic, and no small potatoes if it could rip me into what was clearly a different dimension.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
That didn't mean I wasn't going to make some noise about it, though. Had to maintain the soldiering tradition, even if I was just serving my draft years when I got yanked from home. Falling down at the end, I barely saw Louise raise the bottle to her lips, and start chugging, only to fall back on her bed in spasms when she was done. Good thing I never said it wouldn't hurt.
A/N 2: Tecnicly this would be a crossover, but I'm not done with Not!Saitou's worldbuilding yet, so I can't write that story. Les arg. Please, leave commentary, because I'm totally new to the ZnT-verse. This is supposed to be vaguely LN-esqe, so if I did well or poor with that, please let me know.
A/N: Blah blah, OCs are evil, blah blah. I'll try and make it worth it.
It was the eighth of December on the freezing mud in the Orchest fortress, thirty five miles south of the Grand Pass. Sitting behind my battered war-tractor, I cursed slightly as another spell-bolt rammed the earth before exploding in a white fireball. They were just saturating our empty backfield now, our stalwart anti-air batteries crippled by lack of ammunition at their readabouts. Orchest was never meant to be held, designed only to serve to blunt the Crusaders wrath while the Air Navy marshaled their forces and the civilian populations got to ground as the Grand Pass fortified its already-massive armaments. As the riflemen on the earthworks snapped away and the chainguns rattled, I snorted quietly. This was not one of the mightier Crusades launched in recent years, if they couldn't marshal enough artillery to batter down our fort or enough mages to suppress the walls for an assault. Instead, the pikemen and heavy infantry huddled in their moles, while arquebusiers and serpentets tried to fight back in a parody of modern siegecraft. My role in this, as a dedicated Grimus taught to hunt mages, was simple- sit in the aforementioned backfield, and wait for one of their corvettes to try and run the short-ranged nests of forty-milimetre flak and drop a mage team instead of pissing away ammunition in an attempt to destroy buildings ten feet underground.
So far, I was having a good day in that none of their corvettes had actually gotten close to the line in the sky that signaled the range of our hundred-twenty-five millimetre flak batteries, which were shot dry on their few dedicated colliers back when they attempted to overfly us. Now it was down to a pissing contest between our respective infantry while their engineers tried to run a mole in close enough to push home an assault by their antiquated pikes. A forlorn hope of pike had worked in the past, so running men with glorified pointy sticks into the hell of rapid-fire weapons and landmines wasn't totally baseless. Just stupid.
I still had to make sure my many layers of armor still fit, though. Shrapnel had killed more men on both sides than anything else from the first days of firearms, and second-most save disease before then. From the double-layer leather greatcoat with ironwood plates backed in brass, to the dragonhide undervest, to the heavy steel breastplate and backplate and dragonbone laminate armor extensions to sit on the greatcoat; to the mess of rigging that held my gun, sword, rifle, bayonet, grimus-rod, reagents, ammunition, and backpack; to the heavy helmet with Ruina filters, glass lenses, and mage-gas proof seals that locked into the treated cottonate underlayer; I was equiped for war in the manner fitting of one of my experience. All two years of it, mind, but that was still enough. A good grimus was supposedly worth his weight twice over- once in gold, and once in the amount of equipment that went into making him the most individually potent weapon in the Holy and Free Kingdom of Blackrock's arsenal of very potent weapons.
Traipsing forward to the trenches, I rolled my neck and looked out over to the mole. A few arquebusiers took potshots at me, but a wave of the hand put up a light shield that deflected the rounds harmlessly. The Enemy was trying to push rusty spades and picks into the volcanic crust that was most of Blackrock's soil, and failing miserably while men firing weapons three times their age tried to push a determined and well-equipped enemy out of their fieldworks. News at eleven, gossip at midnight. Leaving the works, I started back to my war-tractor when it hit me. A faint chanting, a delicate cantrip. A desire, born on the winds of Fate.
"I beg of you… My servant who lives somewhere in the universe! Oh sacred, beautiful and strong familiar spirit! I desire and here I plead from my heart! Answer to my guidance!"
"Oh, fuck."
***
A grimus is, as far as magic-wielding humans go, really weird. For example, traditional healing doesn't work on us- but blasting us with massive amounts of atmospheric and gaseous Ruina gets us up and fighting every time, because we can metabolize it, but traditional healing just gets warped into a cute knot by how much Ruina we had in our bodies.
Apparently, so did the utter lack of said atmospheric Ruina. Gasping like a fish out of water, I rolled over onto the grass from my back, and a part of me started screaming loudly. Grass only grew in areas with an atmospheric Ruina count of below four hundred parts per million, and only grew green at less than fifty parts per million. Dandelions only had yellow heads at less than twenty five! There was an entire clean room at the University of Blackrock to grow these so grimuses knew what they looked like, and there was one not five feet from my nose! Where in the Halls of Flame was I?!
That's when I heard it, a garbled chanting. Peaking up, I looked around, and gulped. I was surrounded by mages, wands out. Student mages, to be true, and as such probably squishy enough that a bullet each would work to kill 'em, but I didn't have enough bullets or local Ruina to do it. The Senior Mage, their teacher, was also holding a fuckhuge fireball aimed at me. Looks like fighting my way out in a blaze of glory would be a "no", then. As the girl-mage in front of me finished talking, she strode boldly towards me, wand hand shaking. Stepping back, I tripped, my equipment rattling as I fell on my ass. Bending down, the girl kissed me on my helmet for some reason. I just looked at the Senior Mage, and wisely put my hands into the air. The girl, pink hair bouncing, grabbed my collar and tried to drag me up. As she did, I gulped and followed her meekly. Looks like I was booty of a mage school, which probably meant little things like torture, vivisection, and the eventual activation of the suicide rune at the back of my skull so that the before didn't happen for very long.
Hell, if I was going by the book I should have already pulled the trigger and taken the six-inch thermal bloom turning my head into ashes already. But, something told me not to- that this wasn't what it appeared. Following the pink-haired girl, we went up several floors, until she opened the door and pushed me into… her quarters? Was I the bedslave of some pre-pubescent slip of a girl with more magic than sense?! When she pointed at me and made a gesture, speaking, I shrugged. Shutting the door, I turned back to her, and shrugged again. Slapping her head with her hand, she grabbed a stool and stood on it to grab at my helmet, trying to rip it off. At this point, I chuckled. She was still a kid, even if she was one of the Enemy, and I could always try to turn her away from their path if she turned out to be a good sort. After all, she had yet to try to molest me, despite a massive opportunity that was just sitting there. Even if I was still armed to the teeth, resistance was a bad idea- I had no doubt their teacher could blast me into a nice little pile of cinders, me being a grimus or no.
No, don't ask me why all mages are massive horndogs intent on having all the sex. I don't know. The only side effects of magic a grimus had to deal with were getting covered in the surface markings tanamount to reagentless casting and the internal bodily storage of Ruina. On the plus side, no leaving by-blows all over the place, so yay. On the minus side, portraits were as expensive as fuck because of how many markings we had, so it balanced out in theory.
Unlocking the seals on my helmet, I popped the removal tabs in the back and front to open the faceguard. Once this was done, I rolled it to the right to undog the bayonet lock, and popped the helmet off. The girl took one look at my face, and screamed.
"I know I'm a grimus, and we're covered by Taintmarks from head to toe," I muttered, "but for Pyrine's sake stop screaming at me like a troll-child in the garden."
More screaming, followed by her grabbing her wand and pointing it at me.
"Oh, shit…"
The girl yelled out a spell, which produced a rather large explosion that knocked us both back. Grabbing at my rod, I threw up a weak shield to protect myself in case another explosion followed.
"The hell was that for!" I yelled at her, my temper snapping. "I surrendered, goddamnit!"
"Why won't you listen to me, you moronic familiar!" she replied, heated.
"Because you were speaking gibberish! Now explain that last bit!"
As the girl's jaw dropped, you sighed and held your head in your hands. Why did this happen? More importantly, why did it happen to me? Most importantly, how soon could I go home to the beautiful black plains of Naosund?
"You are my familiar." the pink-haired girl said, transitioning from shock to anger in a heartbeat. "My slave, my pet, my servant, granted to me by Brimir and bound to me by magic! I summoned you, dog, and you are mine!"
Ahhh. As an explanation, it was piss. That tone, however. That vicious hiss. I could work with that…
"And let me guess," I said, slipping into a sardonic grin. "That the last step to the summoning ritual was that kiss, which never touched me, and as such didn't activate."
"Ack-!" went the girl. All according to plan.
"Of course, you summoned me, and I am almost obligated to go along with this plan… if there was something in it for me. Care to sweeten the pot, honey?"
At this, the girl drew her wand and pointed it at me- and then froze. My pistol was staring her straight in the eye, and the large bore of a Knightbreaker loaded with spellshot was no mean negotiation tool.
"I'll take that as a 'no' then" I said, sighing. Holstering the pistol, I took a deep breath, and then left the room. Closing the door behind me, I started walking around carefully, trying to avoid getting intercepted. I needed to find the kitchens, and get some food. Afterwords, a room where I could set my gear down, and maybe sleep. After hearing a few remarks to the tune of "What is the Zero's familiar doing out and about?", I finally started smelling food. I had to be getting close! Of course, I made one critical miscalculation- how sneaky little miss pinky was. I hadn't put my helmet back on, so when she snuck up behind me and brained me with a candlestick for running away, I went down like a light.
***
Several hours later, I woke up with a splitting headache, none of my guns, and the kind of post-konk-on-the-head thirst that demands saiting. Grabbing my waterskin, I pulled it loose and drained it, sighing as I looked up. The pink-haired chick was still standing there, fuming.
"I am Louise de la Valiére, and you will obey me, not run off!" she shreiked, enraged. I just sighed, looking at her. Yell at me once, shame on you. Yell at me twice, shame on me. And right now, third time was not the charm.
"Funny, I heard things more along the lines of Louise the Zero." I quiped, standing. "Of course, they'll laugh even harder if I tell them you borked the summoning ritual, too."
"I'll kill you!!"
"Try."
At this, Louise stepped back, and I smiled very, very faintly. My Taintmarks were igniting, now, glowing that rich shade of violet that signaled I was hot to trot and ready to throw down. My rod was in my hand, and a purple mist wreathed the other, ready to cast at the drop of a hat. Smiling, I let the flaps in my cheeks pull back, showing off my teeth, all forty of them. Considering the fact that the Marokans and Cavish had at most thirty-two or less nor regrew lost teeth, it was often considered intimidating to them. Apparently, Lousie agreed. Laughing, I pulled out a bottle of Taintwine and grinned.
"Drink." I said, shoving it at her. She shook her head, and I tried to modulate my tone. This was the really hard bit here- getting a mage to take the first steps away from the "light" and towards reality.
"W-w-why? Why should I drink this?" she asked, scared. Good- she was smart enough to be afraid, and to be cowed. First impressions were everything, and I wanted this one to stay by her for the rest of her life.
"You pled from your heart when you summoned me, Louise. Sacred, beautiful, and strong. When I left, I heard of you, by name. 'Oh, my, the Zero's familiar is loose!' 'Louise can't control even a peasent!' 'To see such a mighty house produce a null child! How her mother must be ashamed!' was what I heard!"
Not technically true, but I didn't take three semesters of theatre for arguing myself into a promotion.
"Shut up, brute!"
"Oh, as if you could force me to! I'm exactly what you asked for, after all. A Deacon of the Black Church- sacred to many, in my home. Beautiful, I have been called by my lusts and bedmates from the Royal University to the zemlyanka outside of Orchest. As for strong? Do you really need a demonstration? I am a Hazekiller, taught to rend Mages as they wonder at their deaths!"
Alright, while the shock was still flowing in, time to seal the deal. I needed a patron, someone to protect me, and being a familiar looked good enough from here. I also needed to start empire-building, and little miss haughty here had to have at least a barony, if not a county. A village could do in a pinch, but I'd rather not. The only problem was that she was a noble, so she was either a cynical little gal or coated in ideals a foot thick. I doubted the later, which directed my tone in the final part of my monologue.
"Of course, there's something you'd rather have a thousand times over rather than a familiar, Louise. You could have called forth Carolus Rex himself and still be berfit, if you could have but one thing."
It took he a moment, as it trickled through the poor girl's brain.
"Magic." Louise gasped, looking at the bottle in a new light.
"I can give it to you, Louise," I said, gently now. Very, very gently. Lip flaps closed, Tainmarks faded, throw a little light behind you for backlighting, and pray to the Ghost of Fyire that this worked. "All I need you to do is make me your familiar, and finish the ritual. A kiss on the lips, and then drink the bottle dry." Touch, almost stroke her now, keep her off balance. "You're Dry-born, so you shouldn't get any Taintmarks. Nobody will know, and you can cast magic I teach you." Creep in, closer. Make yourself an easy target. "Forget the title of Zero. Take this, and I promise you a new title. Louise, the Violet Mage."
One clumsy kiss later, I was on fire. I was not at all surprised, here- this was Ritual magic, and no small potatoes if it could rip me into what was clearly a different dimension.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
That didn't mean I wasn't going to make some noise about it, though. Had to maintain the soldiering tradition, even if I was just serving my draft years when I got yanked from home. Falling down at the end, I barely saw Louise raise the bottle to her lips, and start chugging, only to fall back on her bed in spasms when she was done. Good thing I never said it wouldn't hurt.
A/N 2: Tecnicly this would be a crossover, but I'm not done with Not!Saitou's worldbuilding yet, so I can't write that story. Les arg. Please, leave commentary, because I'm totally new to the ZnT-verse. This is supposed to be vaguely LN-esqe, so if I did well or poor with that, please let me know.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Yep. And, to make matters even more intresting, in his world (because MC has no name yet...) everyone in Blackrock has magic as a side-effect of being born there. King? Magic. General? Magic. Shop owner? Magic. Streetsweeper? Magic. Famer? Magic.
Also, for the crowd, any suggestions on names? Think European, perferably something that wouldn't be terribly familiar to the Halkegenians. I've been going with a slight Eastern Europe slant, but all options are welcome.
So it looks like some sort of magical apocolypse maybe happened on the familiars world, given that they need clean rooms to grow grass and plants so people know what plantlife is.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Original material, and one of my older projects to boot.
You're in the right ballpark, but not the right part of the field. Look over the first couple paragraphs pre-summon: Blackrock was far from friendly even before magical shenanigans started.
As for the whole clean rooms bit, they need them to grow grass as it would appear in an outside environment- not to grow it period.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
For anyone intrested in where the MC comes from, the worldbuiding thread for his 'verse is now up.
Worldbuilding - The Kingdom of Blackrock Project(Original Setting)
Worldbuilding - The Kingdom of Blackrock Project(Original Setting)
Part Deux
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
The next morning was not pleasant. I was hungover, somehow, my Taintmarks were spazzing out all over my left hand, I was still in armor, and I needed to piss. Badley.
Making my way down the hallway, I managed to find the restroom without too much dificulty. In lieu of flush toilets, however, they had a flowing water system. Not exactly sophisticated, but it was sanitary enough for today's purposes. Going to the leading stall, I undogged my breastplate, undid six buttons, and then proceded to have some sweet relief. Once that was done, a few minutes of primping in front of the mirror got me to the blessed state of not a wreck, at which I started my way back to Louise's room. Opening it up, I heard a muffled "goawaaay…" from the bed, indicating my nominal boss was still hung-over. After a few minutes of digging in the closet to get my guns and other assorteds back, I started stripping off the layers of armor I had been wearing. Full war-kit was okay, but after long enough it got to be uncomfortable as hell. Digging around in my reagents pouch, I pulled out a small packet of extract of willow, and dumped half into a small teacup. The other half went into my mouth, to get washed down with water. The teacup, once it was filled with water, was for Louise- Taintwine, unless carefully filtered, was notorious for giving lightly-marked people massive hangovers and migraines.
Once the hangover remedy was finished and waiting in my nominal master, I got to writing down my list of priorities. Priority one, stay alive. Priority two, get a message home, preferably with a way to receive messages back. Priority three, develop a support team and second-level colonial infrastructure at some location. Priority four, go home. The reason going home was such a low concern was fairly simple- I didn't have much reason to go back. Blackrock adventurers had been cast to the four corners of the map thousands of times, and little alcoves and colonies had propped up, most of which had excellent relations with the homeland.
Sure, none of them were extra-dimensional, but there was a first time for everything!
"Ermerghreughun…" went the bed. Hiding a grin, I peaked in to see Lousie futilely batting at the crack in the curtains that I had made. Light was not her friend today, it seemed.
"Morning, Boss. Hangover remedy is on the table."
"Go'way..."
Two options. I could look out for Louise, or…
"Boss, either you take that hangover remedy and come help me find food or I will start singing Lifetime Of War."
"No."
"Boss, I'm gonna count to three here."
"No."
"One, two, a-one-two-three!"
"Two ways to view the world,
So similar at times.
Two ways to rule the world,
To justify their crimes.
By kings and queens
Young men are sent
To die in war.
Their propaganda speaks
Those words been heard before…"
Now, at no point in time did I ever claim to be a good singer. I could hold a tune, mind, but I needed backup. A guitar, a mandolin, a squeezebox, and especially an organ made me sound like a baritone angel, sent to sing glorious songs.
Alone, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid fused to the top of it. What was supposed to be beautiful ballad about the horrors of the Nine Crusades of the Red Pope and the kingdoms of Marrok, Theribium, and Chrystholm was now a crowling mess, my voice smearing it across the walls and halls. Louise rose, groggily, hands outstretched as if to throttle me where I stood. Dancing away, I passed her the cup, which I grinned at.
"Drink Me." I said at the cup. Louise dutifully drank it, face puckering at the bitter flavor.
"Takes about a half hour to kick in. Get dressed, and we'll get breakfast."
"Dress me," Louise moaned, looking at her dresser blearily. I just grinned.
"My my, are you sure? I mean, you're asking me to strip a young, vulnerable lady down to her undergarments, and then, well, who knows what could happen next!"
Hearing a great grumble, I started removing the nightgown expertly, making sure to keep the mess of pink hair out of the way. Once that was done, a pair of panties went on, along with a loose blouse and nice skirt. There wasn't anything particularly sexual about it, thank Pyrine, thanks to the fact that I honestly couldn't have gotten it up for anything considering the state of my head. Sex and hangovers did not go together at all. After adding on a cloak, I strapped on my reagents box to my pistol belt and made sure that my bayonet was readily available. Not for fighting, mind- for eating. There were few things tastier than bayonet shishkabob, especially when you remembered to clean the protective oils off first.
Making sure Louise didn't trip on thin air, I helped her down to the cafeteria. Surprisingly, we were kind of early. Flagging down a servant, I grinned politely at her.
"One hangover special- a pile of eggs, meat, and cheese, and potatoes, please." I said, giving her a knowing look. "Also, a big bowl of grits and ham."
The maid smiled. "Did the Zero need to hit the bottle after summoning a commoner?"
Raising an eyebrow and coughing out a small cloud of Ruina, I pulled it into the shape of a poppy flower with one hand and crystallized it with a snap of my off hand.
"Hazekiller grimuses ain't exactly common around here, darling. Now hop to- I wouldn't be at all surprised if the little miss here has a bear for a temper if she's not kept fed."
Holding the flower gently, the servant smiled. "I'm Siesta. If you need help with anything, just feel free to ask."
Batting an eye, I just let loose a cool chuckle.
"Anything at all?"
"Yes… Sir."
At this my good mood proceeded to get overtaken by Big Magic Hangover, and I snarled at Siesta. Hazekiller was an enlisted specification, and I had been a Cadre Sergeant when Louise yanked me up from my home.
Pro tip: Never, ever, ever address an NCO as a commissioned officer. I worked for a living, unlike Captain MacDongcopter The Eighth and Lieutenant Bootlicker Brownose back at Orchest Headquarters. They had been put out there for the explicit purpose of dying when shit like a Crusade happened, and they had failed to do so spectacularly, no matter how many times Colonel Thren put them (and by extension, me) on the pointy bits of the wall.
"Then get the damn food already!" I yelled, bowling her over. "I'm famished, she's barely walking, so stop rattling your jaw!"
As Siesta scrambled off with the poppy in tow, I groaned and grabbed a pitcher of what smelled like strong tea. Pouring it into my mouth straight, I chewed the tea leaves into a pulp, and swallowed those too. As the food came out, I slapped the mess of hangover cure food in front of Louise, and waited a minute before she started sluggishly eating it. Meanwhile, I looked for my grits and found… gruel. Fairly good gruel, mind, with peas and carrots and ham, but gruel none the less. Eh- food was food, and if these guys had potatoes then they should have corn too. Tearing through it, Louise and I finished at about the same time, with the same glazed-over expression.
"Familiar… why did you make me eat so much?"
"Helps with the headache. Drink tea too, and water."
"Still…"
"Oh, can it. Meat in the mouth, meat on the bones. Only thing fruit and chocolate and bread will get you is a stick for an ass and a board for boobs."
"Hey!"
As Louise found insult in my words, I heaved myself up from the table, and grabbed her by the scruff of her cloak. Picking her up easily, I chuckled a little as she tried to hit me.
"Its nearly eight bell, Louise. Even if class isn't started yet, you still need to start learning!"
"What am I supposed to be learning about, you brute!?"
"Take a guess, Louise. Last night might have been the first step on the way to ditching your Zero status, but you still need to put in some work for it."
That's when it started to sink in, and Louise gulped. "Oh."
"Yes, smart one. 'Oh' indeed. I might not be able to teach you how to turn lead into gold, but I can teach you how to make steel burn."
"You can do that?"
"It's mostly used as a party trick these days, but yes we," I said, empathizing she could do it too, "can do it with only a little saltwater and the snap of our fingers. Well, you'd need a match because I haven't taught you how to sustain or start a reaction yet, but that's a moot point."
She glared at me, now. "Because you don't want to teach me?"
"Because I don't have a crucible set up yet, or a taintwine vat, or a good set of vis-shaping tools, or one of a million pieces of gear that goes into this. I hope you've got deep pockets, by the way, because this stuff is a headache and a half to get materials for, plus the cost of good crucible-feed and vino to make into taintwine."
"Well, I know where we can get some not-horrible wine cheaply, but what makes good crucible food?"
"Just about anything under the sun will work, but most people use either scrap earth or mine tailings. In lieu of that, though, there's a fairly simple one we should have plenty of here if you don't want to use something precious like ironwood or gold."
"What?"
"Feces. Alias, shit."
"WHAT?!"
Groaning, I held my head in my hand and set the little grimus-to-be down.
"Okay, Theory of Ruina one-ten here. Everything known to man has two balanced and opposite magical charges which keep it magically inert. Via a little a this-and-that, we can break the material down so it is magically impotent, and psiphon the two charges off into filler materials leaving behind a magically null brick of matter which is normally barely able to interact with organic decomposition."
Louise just nodded as I set out the materials. Two three-inch square steel unreinforced plates, a small jar of taintwine, and a phial of saltwater. Looking at her carefully, I started explaining as I set it up.
"Okay, first thing we need to do is channel our Ruina. I've got a decent amount inside me, but you don't because this place is supernaturally clean."
"Which means drink that rancid stuff you call taintwine?"
"Yep."
As Louise choked down the fluid that would power her spell, I called my own Ruina up, pooling it in my left hand.
"You feel that burning, sliding feeling in you yet?"
"Un… yes."
I had to smile, now. Looks like Louise was made of sterner stuff than I thought.
"Good. Feel it flow and pool, moving with your body. Now, draw it to where it seems inclined to flow in a circle, moving around carefully."
As she did, I saw the faint purple mist flow out of her hand, dripping off her nails. Hand-based foci would help later, as it meant she could shape the Ruina easier. Looking at her face, I saw her eyes screwed shut as if she was afraid to see herself doing magic, to see that she could.
Hope was a dangerous thing- and it was time Louise finally had some.
"Open your eyes, and look."
Her gasp, in that second, made it all worth it. Moving over to the plates, I wetted them with the saltwater, and returned to her.
"Now, guide the focused Ruina onto the plate, however you need to. I'll make sure it doesn't go all over the place, but you have to get it onto the plate."
As Louise screwed up her face, inadvertently closing her eyes, I lightly cuffed her ear. There was no excuse for it, and in more complicated maneuvers it could cause premature reaction.
"Eyes front, Louise. Never take your eyes off loose Ruina, or you'll lose control. If that happens, then an accidental explosion would be the least of your worries."
She hissed, but nodded with her eyes open. Soon, the cloud of Ruina was sitting over the wet plate. Smiling, I snapped my fingers to light a taper, and threw it at the cloud. It erupted in flames, and I watched Louise gasp. She, Louise the Zero, had done magic. More, it was magic that worked exactly as planned. No explosions. No laughter or jeers. No snide remarks. Only success.
"Good work, Louise." I said, looking at my own plate. "But you have a long way to go yet."
Throwing a bolt at the plate, I watched it burst into flames brightly, before looking over at my student's.
"Also, keep feeding your spell until the iron burns out or you run out of energy."
As my plate burned out into a pile of rust flakes, I grinned at Louise.
"So, how did it feel?"
She laughed, and smiled a vengeful smile.
"Beautiful."
(Lifetime of War belongs to the band Sabaton, not me.)
Making my way down the hallway, I managed to find the restroom without too much dificulty. In lieu of flush toilets, however, they had a flowing water system. Not exactly sophisticated, but it was sanitary enough for today's purposes. Going to the leading stall, I undogged my breastplate, undid six buttons, and then proceded to have some sweet relief. Once that was done, a few minutes of primping in front of the mirror got me to the blessed state of not a wreck, at which I started my way back to Louise's room. Opening it up, I heard a muffled "goawaaay…" from the bed, indicating my nominal boss was still hung-over. After a few minutes of digging in the closet to get my guns and other assorteds back, I started stripping off the layers of armor I had been wearing. Full war-kit was okay, but after long enough it got to be uncomfortable as hell. Digging around in my reagents pouch, I pulled out a small packet of extract of willow, and dumped half into a small teacup. The other half went into my mouth, to get washed down with water. The teacup, once it was filled with water, was for Louise- Taintwine, unless carefully filtered, was notorious for giving lightly-marked people massive hangovers and migraines.
Once the hangover remedy was finished and waiting in my nominal master, I got to writing down my list of priorities. Priority one, stay alive. Priority two, get a message home, preferably with a way to receive messages back. Priority three, develop a support team and second-level colonial infrastructure at some location. Priority four, go home. The reason going home was such a low concern was fairly simple- I didn't have much reason to go back. Blackrock adventurers had been cast to the four corners of the map thousands of times, and little alcoves and colonies had propped up, most of which had excellent relations with the homeland.
Sure, none of them were extra-dimensional, but there was a first time for everything!
"Ermerghreughun…" went the bed. Hiding a grin, I peaked in to see Lousie futilely batting at the crack in the curtains that I had made. Light was not her friend today, it seemed.
"Morning, Boss. Hangover remedy is on the table."
"Go'way..."
Two options. I could look out for Louise, or…
"Boss, either you take that hangover remedy and come help me find food or I will start singing Lifetime Of War."
"No."
"Boss, I'm gonna count to three here."
"No."
"One, two, a-one-two-three!"
"Two ways to view the world,
So similar at times.
Two ways to rule the world,
To justify their crimes.
By kings and queens
Young men are sent
To die in war.
Their propaganda speaks
Those words been heard before…"
Now, at no point in time did I ever claim to be a good singer. I could hold a tune, mind, but I needed backup. A guitar, a mandolin, a squeezebox, and especially an organ made me sound like a baritone angel, sent to sing glorious songs.
Alone, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid fused to the top of it. What was supposed to be beautiful ballad about the horrors of the Nine Crusades of the Red Pope and the kingdoms of Marrok, Theribium, and Chrystholm was now a crowling mess, my voice smearing it across the walls and halls. Louise rose, groggily, hands outstretched as if to throttle me where I stood. Dancing away, I passed her the cup, which I grinned at.
"Drink Me." I said at the cup. Louise dutifully drank it, face puckering at the bitter flavor.
"Takes about a half hour to kick in. Get dressed, and we'll get breakfast."
"Dress me," Louise moaned, looking at her dresser blearily. I just grinned.
"My my, are you sure? I mean, you're asking me to strip a young, vulnerable lady down to her undergarments, and then, well, who knows what could happen next!"
Hearing a great grumble, I started removing the nightgown expertly, making sure to keep the mess of pink hair out of the way. Once that was done, a pair of panties went on, along with a loose blouse and nice skirt. There wasn't anything particularly sexual about it, thank Pyrine, thanks to the fact that I honestly couldn't have gotten it up for anything considering the state of my head. Sex and hangovers did not go together at all. After adding on a cloak, I strapped on my reagents box to my pistol belt and made sure that my bayonet was readily available. Not for fighting, mind- for eating. There were few things tastier than bayonet shishkabob, especially when you remembered to clean the protective oils off first.
Making sure Louise didn't trip on thin air, I helped her down to the cafeteria. Surprisingly, we were kind of early. Flagging down a servant, I grinned politely at her.
"One hangover special- a pile of eggs, meat, and cheese, and potatoes, please." I said, giving her a knowing look. "Also, a big bowl of grits and ham."
The maid smiled. "Did the Zero need to hit the bottle after summoning a commoner?"
Raising an eyebrow and coughing out a small cloud of Ruina, I pulled it into the shape of a poppy flower with one hand and crystallized it with a snap of my off hand.
"Hazekiller grimuses ain't exactly common around here, darling. Now hop to- I wouldn't be at all surprised if the little miss here has a bear for a temper if she's not kept fed."
Holding the flower gently, the servant smiled. "I'm Siesta. If you need help with anything, just feel free to ask."
Batting an eye, I just let loose a cool chuckle.
"Anything at all?"
"Yes… Sir."
At this my good mood proceeded to get overtaken by Big Magic Hangover, and I snarled at Siesta. Hazekiller was an enlisted specification, and I had been a Cadre Sergeant when Louise yanked me up from my home.
Pro tip: Never, ever, ever address an NCO as a commissioned officer. I worked for a living, unlike Captain MacDongcopter The Eighth and Lieutenant Bootlicker Brownose back at Orchest Headquarters. They had been put out there for the explicit purpose of dying when shit like a Crusade happened, and they had failed to do so spectacularly, no matter how many times Colonel Thren put them (and by extension, me) on the pointy bits of the wall.
"Then get the damn food already!" I yelled, bowling her over. "I'm famished, she's barely walking, so stop rattling your jaw!"
As Siesta scrambled off with the poppy in tow, I groaned and grabbed a pitcher of what smelled like strong tea. Pouring it into my mouth straight, I chewed the tea leaves into a pulp, and swallowed those too. As the food came out, I slapped the mess of hangover cure food in front of Louise, and waited a minute before she started sluggishly eating it. Meanwhile, I looked for my grits and found… gruel. Fairly good gruel, mind, with peas and carrots and ham, but gruel none the less. Eh- food was food, and if these guys had potatoes then they should have corn too. Tearing through it, Louise and I finished at about the same time, with the same glazed-over expression.
"Familiar… why did you make me eat so much?"
"Helps with the headache. Drink tea too, and water."
"Still…"
"Oh, can it. Meat in the mouth, meat on the bones. Only thing fruit and chocolate and bread will get you is a stick for an ass and a board for boobs."
"Hey!"
As Louise found insult in my words, I heaved myself up from the table, and grabbed her by the scruff of her cloak. Picking her up easily, I chuckled a little as she tried to hit me.
"Its nearly eight bell, Louise. Even if class isn't started yet, you still need to start learning!"
"What am I supposed to be learning about, you brute!?"
"Take a guess, Louise. Last night might have been the first step on the way to ditching your Zero status, but you still need to put in some work for it."
That's when it started to sink in, and Louise gulped. "Oh."
"Yes, smart one. 'Oh' indeed. I might not be able to teach you how to turn lead into gold, but I can teach you how to make steel burn."
"You can do that?"
"It's mostly used as a party trick these days, but yes we," I said, empathizing she could do it too, "can do it with only a little saltwater and the snap of our fingers. Well, you'd need a match because I haven't taught you how to sustain or start a reaction yet, but that's a moot point."
She glared at me, now. "Because you don't want to teach me?"
"Because I don't have a crucible set up yet, or a taintwine vat, or a good set of vis-shaping tools, or one of a million pieces of gear that goes into this. I hope you've got deep pockets, by the way, because this stuff is a headache and a half to get materials for, plus the cost of good crucible-feed and vino to make into taintwine."
"Well, I know where we can get some not-horrible wine cheaply, but what makes good crucible food?"
"Just about anything under the sun will work, but most people use either scrap earth or mine tailings. In lieu of that, though, there's a fairly simple one we should have plenty of here if you don't want to use something precious like ironwood or gold."
"What?"
"Feces. Alias, shit."
"WHAT?!"
Groaning, I held my head in my hand and set the little grimus-to-be down.
"Okay, Theory of Ruina one-ten here. Everything known to man has two balanced and opposite magical charges which keep it magically inert. Via a little a this-and-that, we can break the material down so it is magically impotent, and psiphon the two charges off into filler materials leaving behind a magically null brick of matter which is normally barely able to interact with organic decomposition."
Louise just nodded as I set out the materials. Two three-inch square steel unreinforced plates, a small jar of taintwine, and a phial of saltwater. Looking at her carefully, I started explaining as I set it up.
"Okay, first thing we need to do is channel our Ruina. I've got a decent amount inside me, but you don't because this place is supernaturally clean."
"Which means drink that rancid stuff you call taintwine?"
"Yep."
As Louise choked down the fluid that would power her spell, I called my own Ruina up, pooling it in my left hand.
"You feel that burning, sliding feeling in you yet?"
"Un… yes."
I had to smile, now. Looks like Louise was made of sterner stuff than I thought.
"Good. Feel it flow and pool, moving with your body. Now, draw it to where it seems inclined to flow in a circle, moving around carefully."
As she did, I saw the faint purple mist flow out of her hand, dripping off her nails. Hand-based foci would help later, as it meant she could shape the Ruina easier. Looking at her face, I saw her eyes screwed shut as if she was afraid to see herself doing magic, to see that she could.
Hope was a dangerous thing- and it was time Louise finally had some.
"Open your eyes, and look."
Her gasp, in that second, made it all worth it. Moving over to the plates, I wetted them with the saltwater, and returned to her.
"Now, guide the focused Ruina onto the plate, however you need to. I'll make sure it doesn't go all over the place, but you have to get it onto the plate."
As Louise screwed up her face, inadvertently closing her eyes, I lightly cuffed her ear. There was no excuse for it, and in more complicated maneuvers it could cause premature reaction.
"Eyes front, Louise. Never take your eyes off loose Ruina, or you'll lose control. If that happens, then an accidental explosion would be the least of your worries."
She hissed, but nodded with her eyes open. Soon, the cloud of Ruina was sitting over the wet plate. Smiling, I snapped my fingers to light a taper, and threw it at the cloud. It erupted in flames, and I watched Louise gasp. She, Louise the Zero, had done magic. More, it was magic that worked exactly as planned. No explosions. No laughter or jeers. No snide remarks. Only success.
"Good work, Louise." I said, looking at my own plate. "But you have a long way to go yet."
Throwing a bolt at the plate, I watched it burst into flames brightly, before looking over at my student's.
"Also, keep feeding your spell until the iron burns out or you run out of energy."
As my plate burned out into a pile of rust flakes, I grinned at Louise.
"So, how did it feel?"
She laughed, and smiled a vengeful smile.
"Beautiful."
(Lifetime of War belongs to the band Sabaton, not me.)
Kolarthecool
Hiding from the light of day.
- Location
- Calgary, Canada.
Siesta's dialogue seemed a bit weird to me. She's a commoner maid with a healthy fear of nobles, she wouldn't call Louise 'the Zero' or insult her, not with her in hearing distance at least. Also the flower trick wouldn't be recieved so well given that whole fear of Nobles thing.
Also how human looking is the main character? Louise shrieked at seeing his face and Colbert had a fireball prepared after the summoning but everyone after that has just been acting like he's a regular old human (unless he was just making up the words he apparently heard during his walk). Would hate for this to be one of those ZnT fics where Louise summons some powerful, alien creature and everyone is written like they're dealing with plain old Saito.
Also how human looking is the main character? Louise shrieked at seeing his face and Colbert had a fireball prepared after the summoning but everyone after that has just been acting like he's a regular old human (unless he was just making up the words he apparently heard during his walk). Would hate for this to be one of those ZnT fics where Louise summons some powerful, alien creature and everyone is written like they're dealing with plain old Saito.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
These are AWESOME questions. The first half is critical of the technicality of the writing, the second of the story itself.
These are also going to get answered later, when I have a real keyboard to type with. All I'm going to say now is that the bit on MC is spot on, because his appearance is quite variable, and subtly not quite right with the option of becoming definitively Not Human when the need arises. For example, a normal human has 32 teeth. MC has 40.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
@Kolarthecool Keyboard Get!
So, then, down to business. On the first note, Siesta Dialogue, there's two (slightly) mitigating factors. One is the simple fact that Louise is obviously hungover out of her mind, and as such is dead to the world. While I'll agree with you on the healthy fear of nobles, living in a state of fear and some protection (via Old Osman) means that there's going to be some really petty shit going on around/to nobles who aren't well known or liked by the staff. Little things, like laundry priority and serving order and room cleaning and making fun of them when they're stoned/drunk/hungover. The flower trick, though, gets plus marks because MC has that slight air of the unusual and he's also being, y'know, nice. If I wanted to write Guiche having an affair with one of the staff, he'd do the same thing and get a fairly similar result because of the same reasons. A little humanization, a little kindness, and a little gift all work wonders.
So, then, down to business. On the first note, Siesta Dialogue, there's two (slightly) mitigating factors. One is the simple fact that Louise is obviously hungover out of her mind, and as such is dead to the world. While I'll agree with you on the healthy fear of nobles, living in a state of fear and some protection (via Old Osman) means that there's going to be some really petty shit going on around/to nobles who aren't well known or liked by the staff. Little things, like laundry priority and serving order and room cleaning and making fun of them when they're stoned/drunk/hungover. The flower trick, though, gets plus marks because MC has that slight air of the unusual and he's also being, y'know, nice. If I wanted to write Guiche having an affair with one of the staff, he'd do the same thing and get a fairly similar result because of the same reasons. A little humanization, a little kindness, and a little gift all work wonders.
As for MC humanity? It slides around, a lot. If it was a marked and sliding scale, going from -10 as Inhuman Monster and +10 as Perfectly Normal, presume it starts at +10 and gets kicked down every time he says "fuck", mentions his Taintmarks, does magic, or any difference between him and a Halkogenia human. As an added rider on his humanity, I've got to drop some exposition I really need to throw out in my Worldbuilding thread too regarding Ruina, specifically when it interacts with other magic and the environment.
As for the rest of it, MC is a normal person at heart, but when he wants the scary, he can do it alarmingly well. Let me list off some of the shit that can happens when he lights up the juju
-Lip flaps rising, revealing his extra 8 bonus teeth (one elongated incisor and one normal incisor per top quadrant, two incisors per bottom quadrent)
-8 bonus teeth
-Massive array of taintmarks which glow erilee and change colors (fun fact- the number part of the title is a hex-decimal color code for pooling liquid Ruina)
-Glowing eyes
-Purple mist coming from the orfices
-Joints gain an extra 4 degrees of motion
-Crystaline Ruina growths around said emmiting orfices which can lead to:
--Crystal Tears
--Elf Ears
--Death Masks
--Claws
--Dreadlocks
-Crystaline Ruina deposits on the clothing leading to a chitinous appearnece
-Glowing in general
-Gaseous Ruina cloud
-Not having a shadow
-Predatory stature
-Lowered ambient temperature
You mention his summoning being odd, and that's because it's not just him being summoned (For sake of making this come off right, the summoning really summons a sphere around the summoned center of mass large enough to contain all the summoned's organic body parts.) but also a small amount of his environment. Note, that imidianty after his summon that 1) MC is in full war kit, which includes a LOT of weapons and armor and 2) mentions the amazingly low contagion levels. At Orchest, the Ruina ppm (particles contaminated with Ruina per million particles) was about 20,000 which is really close to the top end of what a unmarked person can naturally survive for long periods of time. Add in the fact it's a fairly breezy day out, and that contaminated air hits the students and more importantly Colbert full on. On the student's end, they see that 1) Louise summoned a Knight who looks REALLY FUCKING SCARY (which alone triggers a lot of Colbert's Flight or Fight triggers) and 2) feel this nauseating wave of WRONG WRONG WRONG coming across them like a tsunami (which is what prompts the rest of the Colbert FIREBAWL! response) In all fairness to Colbert, Ruina fucks with magic in that it fucks with the Law of Contagion by changing the nature of contaminated material compared to non-contaminated material which borks the business end of the magic by denying it material to affect. With this going on, which Colbert instinctively realizes as major-league countermagic, another reason he pulls out the very simple fireball is to make sure magic still works right now, period.
As for the rest of it, MC is a normal person at heart, but when he wants the scary, he can do it alarmingly well. Let me list off some of the shit that can happens when he lights up the juju
-Lip flaps rising, revealing his extra 8 bonus teeth (one elongated incisor and one normal incisor per top quadrant, two incisors per bottom quadrent)
-8 bonus teeth
-Massive array of taintmarks which glow erilee and change colors (fun fact- the number part of the title is a hex-decimal color code for pooling liquid Ruina)
-Glowing eyes
-Purple mist coming from the orfices
-Joints gain an extra 4 degrees of motion
-Crystaline Ruina growths around said emmiting orfices which can lead to:
--Crystal Tears
--Elf Ears
--Death Masks
--Claws
--Dreadlocks
-Crystaline Ruina deposits on the clothing leading to a chitinous appearnece
-Glowing in general
-Gaseous Ruina cloud
-Not having a shadow
-Predatory stature
-Lowered ambient temperature
Stopped right there, I was doubtful from the start but with that I couldn't keep on reading. I've just seen this so, so many times. Some special familiar, bunch of traits and abilities Saito didn't have and then what happens, story still keeps on trucking exactly the same as every other ZnT story. There could be a chance that I'm massively underselling your ability but likely the rest of the story, till abandonment, will keep treading the same well worn road as all other ZnT stories with only cosmetic changes.
- Location
- Skyrim
A somewhat interesting premise, but the pacing of the writing is lousy. There are location and 'scene' transitions with little to no explanation or description, and it's both jarring, and makes the thing feel forced.
Particularly with how the protagonist's behavior seems almost bi-polar in how rapidly he switches moods and goals, with very little explanation.
Particularly with how the protagonist's behavior seems almost bi-polar in how rapidly he switches moods and goals, with very little explanation.