Fate/Broken Thorns [Grail War]
- Thread starter Namer
- Start date
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- He/They
Pretty sure it's Morgana/Morgan le Fey actually, based off of that description.
[X] Order Lancer to try distract Caster while you and Rider search.
Dark Lord Potato
Aspiring OverLord from Canada
- Location
- Ottawa, Ontario
[X] Let Rider to make his stand here while you and Lancer search.
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[X] Let Rider to make his stand here while you and Lancer search.
The Fourth Night - Green
Namer
ᵘʷᵘ
- Location
- Bangladesh
- Pronouns
- He/Him
For a moment, all is quiet. The three of you face down Caster. From Rider's reaction, and her words, there is no mistaking her identity.
Morgan le Fay. The half-sister of King Arthur. Enchantress, Sorceress and Fae Queen all in one. The woman who had single-handedly orchestrated the birth of Mordred and the fall of Camelot. Perhaps the single worst opponent you could be facing, considering how she outmatched Rider at every turn. An obscure knight with few tales to his name could not stand up to one of the greatest villains of the same mythos.
It's so, so hard to tear your eyes away from Morgan, but you meet Rider's eyes. He looks… resolute. He must've had suspected Caster's identity for a while now, and been ready for the revelation. You would berate him for keeping something as important as the fact that Caster was Morgan le Fay from you, but you can understand his logic - identity known or not, you had to proceed the same regardless.
Finally, Menw speaks. His voice is as cold as the north wind blowing through the mist-shrouded forests of Albion, yet frothing out like steam from between a boar's tusks. "Morgan, foe of Camelot, you face Menw fab Teirgwaedd. I learnt my arts from King Uther Pendragon himself, and rode down the Twrch Trwyth. Come, sorceress, if you dare."
Morgan laughed, loud and cruel, "My, you may prove entertaining yet. And I hope your Master is more useful than mine was."
Dead leaves on the ground flutter and the trees begin to rustle. The whispering of the wind rose to a wail. Menw's cloak fluttered in the wind, as he held his staff before him.
Everything happens all at once.
"INVISIBLE AIR!" Menw roars. At the same time he shouts in your mind to "RUN!"
The wind erupts. A near solid block of air rockets towards Caster. Menw spins his staff to the left and right, and dirt is kicked up as blades of air swing out, attempting to bisect Caster. The ground below Menw bursts, tendrils of thorny vines reaching up and lunging forward like snakes only a split second behind the wind hammer.
That's all you see, before you push all the prana you can into your legs and run straight for your enemy's lair, Lancer close behind your heels. It occurs to you that whatever Caster had done to cause Lancer to lack a Heroic Spirit, there could be a way to reverse it, here in her territory.
The bounded field around Caster's workshop is incredible. You don't even notice it until you're already inside, and only then do you realize it by virtue of what it does to you. It sends shivers rattling down your body as if hundreds of millipedes were crawling along your spine. If you weren't a mage, this gut-wrenching terror would've had you hurling up everything you had inside your body.
No, even if you were a mage.
The only thing that keeps you on your feet here is Assassin. No matter how bad this was, the Evening Bell had been worse. And you'd survived that.
You push through a thicket of trees, and come upon Caster's domain. A tall, graceful castle, with moonlit arches and shining walls. The moat bubbled greenish-silver. The drawbridge was down and the gates wide open - you were invited in.
You have no time to admire the artificial grandeur or fake beauty. You sprint across the bridge into the castle, hoping beyond hope that Rider would survive long enough for you to find Alice. It hasn't even been two minutes since their battle began.
Where were prisoners kept? In the dungeon. There's no obvious trap door or cellar entry, so you take the first staircase you see headed downwards. You ignore the lavishly decorated hallways and staircases and zero in onto the very first downwards stair you find. You take the steps three at a time. Suddenly, your legs feel leaden and you stumble, crashing down the rest of the flight. Your prana is vanishing at an alarming rate.
Through your mental link, you sense that Rider is still alive and fighting, though he's not talking. Unlike the other fights so far, you actually feel him tugging at your prana reserves. He's burning through it. You can only hope he's having success against Caster.
It's only been three minutes since they started fighting.
You arrive at the lowest floor and freeze.
Standing before you are more than a dozen. They're slight of stature, with faces eerily similar to that of Morgan herself. The worst part is how much magical power you can sense emanating from each of them. They aren't servants, but they eclipse Lancer and would have been a match for Rider with their numbers. But they're not the ones to draw your eye.
It's the man in green standing before them. He exudes not life, but an aura of sheer solidity and menace both. The green plate armour covers every inch of the man. It's most likely another homunculi, wearing the armour of the Green Knight, but somehow it had an aura very similar to that of a Servant. Not a proper Servant, but something close to one. Knowing Caster's proficiency for enchanted arms and armour, it would easily be the most dangerous thing in the room.
You take a quick glance around the rest of the room. The dungeons aren't like dungeons at all. The room you're at is wide and spacious, well lit though no light sources are discernible. One side of the room is dominated by shelves and desks and a long workbench. It's so incongruously like your own workshop you have to stop for a moment, resisting the urge to rifle through another Mage's secrets. Two doorways on opposite ends of the room lead to two other rooms - both of which positively brim with magical energy. Alice had to be in one of those two rooms.
The Green Knight speaks, startling your attention back to him, "Halt. You, who would trespass the domain of my lady, name yourself."
"Good eve, Sir," You begin, slowly reaching into your pockets as you do, "I am Alexander Thorn, Second Owner of York and Master of Lancer and Rider. Who do I have the honour of addressing?"
The Green Knight draws his sword, in response to your hands in your pockets. He's imposingly tall, nearly seven feet. "I am Sir Accolon of Gaul, Favoured by the Lady. The Lady is currently predisposed, and has left orders that no one is to enter her workshop. I bid you and your servant await her in the waiting hall. I shall not warn you again."
You curse with the realization why Sir Accolon feels like a Servant yet is not. Caster's Hero Creation skills were formidable indeed, to be able to draw even a fragment of a proper Heroic Spirit into a homunculus body. Your hands tighten.
"My apologies, Sir, but haste prevents me from waiting for the Lady. She will be predisposed for a long time, and I believe she has something of mine. If you would be so kind to allow me-"
"-in!"
No matter how fast you are, a Servant was faster. It was true for Accolon. A glint of steel and a rush of air, as Sir Accolon leapt at you, sword thrusting outwards. But you were ready for it, and Lancer stepped forth, nameless spear batting away false sword.
The dozen homunculi move into action, stepping forward in two wings of six, wielding swords and shields. You throw out your arms. Four bramble-grenades explode and the room is instantly drowned in bark and thorns. Forcing down the twitching pain of your Brambleheart still greedily gulping ambient prana, you raise up your arm and yell out the spell: "Droigheann Naisg!"
Every bramble and thorn goes utterly wild, twisting and turning and lashing in every direction, coiling around the homunculi, simultaneously crushing them to death and impaling them on innumerable oversized thorns. Four of the homunculi are killed instantly. The remainder survive the hurricane of thorns long enough to bring their swords to bear. However thick your vines are, the swords cut through them like hot knives.
Two of them are still mortally wounded. One has lost an arm and has gaping holes in the chest where thorns as thick as your fist have struck them. The other's lower body has been crushed almost entirely.
Humans could still be dangerous with those injuries. These were Homunculi made by the greatest sorceress of the Age of Faeries.
You push prana into every limb of your body. It's like a river bursting its banks. Every limb in your body screams in pain as they're reinforced to the limits of flesh and bone. The Brambleheart grows even more excited, the one long vine that had been continuously growing spurting out by the inches. It's nearly three feet long now, and twice as thick as your arm. Your left hand was useless - if you intended to use it.
You dive into the midst of the Homunculi, ducking under a sword swing. With an utterance of "Snathgail", the vine rises at your command. You shove the homunculi who had swung at you, your speed and power tossing it back several feet, and swing your arm around wide. The vine smashes into the armless homunculi and outright tears her in half.
Accolon raises Lancer into the air, holding him up by the throat with one arm as easily as you'd hold up a child. You see it by the corner of your eyes and have only a split second to react. Accolon pulls his arm back and throws Lancer straight at you. You leap out of the way just in time and Lancer smashes into one of the homunculi instead, hitting with such incredible force the impact of their bodies cracks the stone floor and ploughs a channel. Neither bodies move.
Lancer is still alive. Somehow, its just barely clinging to this existence.
Six homunculi, and Sir Accolon of Gaul remain. The homunculi suddenly step back, lining up behind the Green Knight.
"Your servant has fallen, Magus. Will you face me yourself now?" Sir Accolon intones. There are only scratches on his armour. The fact that Sir Accolon is still a knight, with a knight's honour, is the only thing keeping you alive. He could've already run you through by now if he wanted.
You glance around. You still have four grenades, and a dozen minor treants up your sleeve, but neither would suffice against Accolon. There weren't enough deritrus from your bramble-grenades for a good Marbhaich, and even if there were, your foe was far too well armoured.
Suddenly, you sense a bit of surprise from the knight. He looks past you and you follow his gaze.
Lancer is moving. It slowly stands up, pulling itself up torturously. Nearly ten heartbeats pass, until it stands up, though more by virtue of the spear than its own body. The spear - the only noble phantasm it possessed, good for nothing but Breaking.
"Your servant has spirit." Accolon says. "Nameless and faceless though he may be."
The command seals burn on your hand. If there was ever a time to use them, while Sir Accolon was momentarily distracted, it was now. Your legs twitch, preparing to spring to a run out of Accolon's range the moment you used them.
[ ] Use a Command Seal to order Lancer to fire off a Broken Phantasm, destroying the spear forever.
[ ] Use a Command Seal to summon Rider back to your side - you can sense he's still in fighting condition.
[ ] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
[ ] Write-in.
Whewh, that was a doozy. Rider vs Caster will be shown in the next update, regardless of whatever option is selected, since how the hell is he still alive is a good question given Caster's sheet.
Morgan le Fay. The half-sister of King Arthur. Enchantress, Sorceress and Fae Queen all in one. The woman who had single-handedly orchestrated the birth of Mordred and the fall of Camelot. Perhaps the single worst opponent you could be facing, considering how she outmatched Rider at every turn. An obscure knight with few tales to his name could not stand up to one of the greatest villains of the same mythos.
Class: Caster
Master: -
True Name: Morgan le Fay
Noble Phantasms: Phantasm Thief - Birthright of Heroes / Avalon - Garden of the Foreverdistant Utopia / ---
Parameters
Strength: D
Endurance: C
Agility: D
Magical Power: A++
Luck: C
Skills
Item Construction - A
Caster can create a wide variety of magical items ranging from potions and mystic codes, to homunculi of the highest caliber. However, Noble-Phantasm grade equipment is out of her reach.
Territory Creation - B → B++
The territory creation skill has been complemented by Caster's third Noble Phantasm. Ordinarily, would allow for the creation of a workshop, inside which Caster's magecraft is strengthened. The effects of Territory Creation are enhanced if the Workshop is created within Avalon.
Faecraft - A
Magic based on the abilities of Faeries, ranging from glamours, veils and enchantments to elemental magic. Caster was acknowledged equal to the lady of the lake, perhaps the most famous of the Faeries. Grants an equivalent rank in multiple other skills, including Illusionism and Elemental Magic.
Hero Creation (False) - EX
The technique and art for artificially creating and rearing a 'king' or a 'hero'. Mordred never truly became a king in the end, nor was it her birthright. Given sufficient time and materials, Caster can create high-tier homunculi indistinguishable from the individual, with the caveat that the more familiar Caster is with the individual, the better the efficiency of this skill.
Noble Phantasms
Phantasm Thief - Birthright of Heroes - A+ (Anti-Unit)
The crystallisation of Morgan's theft of the scabbard Avalon, from her half-sister Arturia, which paved the way for Mordred to take over Arturia's failing kingdom.
Caster's Noble Phantasms are her hands: once she touches another Servant's Noble Phantasm, and that servant is also no longer holding the Noble Phantasm, she makes it her own. All Noble Phantasms with a physical form are vulnerable to this, while conceptual phantasms may be forced into a physical state first. Caster automatically gains compatibility with the Noble Phantasm and its legend and is able to use its True Name with no drawbacks.
Avalon - Garden of the Foreverdistant Utopia - EX (Anti-World)
A fragment from a time long bygone, Avalon is an existence that peels away the fabric of the age of Man and brings about the Age of Faeries within its bounds, establishing it as Morgan le Fay's territory. Stepping within its bounds is tantamount to taking a trip one and a half thousand years into the past.
Within the bounds of this area, magic is as plentiful as it were during the Age of Faeries, increasing Caster's abilities to their maximum potential. The very ground seems to brim with life, and glittering lights in the forests signal the presence of faeries and spirits. In the distance a single tall tower rises out of a field of flowers, and beyond that is an isle upon a pristine lake, shrouded in mist.
Additional Noble Phantasms remain hidden.
Master: -
True Name: Morgan le Fay
Noble Phantasms: Phantasm Thief - Birthright of Heroes / Avalon - Garden of the Foreverdistant Utopia / ---
Parameters
Strength: D
Endurance: C
Agility: D
Magical Power: A++
Luck: C
Skills
Item Construction - A
Caster can create a wide variety of magical items ranging from potions and mystic codes, to homunculi of the highest caliber. However, Noble-Phantasm grade equipment is out of her reach.
Territory Creation - B → B++
The territory creation skill has been complemented by Caster's third Noble Phantasm. Ordinarily, would allow for the creation of a workshop, inside which Caster's magecraft is strengthened. The effects of Territory Creation are enhanced if the Workshop is created within Avalon.
Faecraft - A
Magic based on the abilities of Faeries, ranging from glamours, veils and enchantments to elemental magic. Caster was acknowledged equal to the lady of the lake, perhaps the most famous of the Faeries. Grants an equivalent rank in multiple other skills, including Illusionism and Elemental Magic.
Hero Creation (False) - EX
The technique and art for artificially creating and rearing a 'king' or a 'hero'. Mordred never truly became a king in the end, nor was it her birthright. Given sufficient time and materials, Caster can create high-tier homunculi indistinguishable from the individual, with the caveat that the more familiar Caster is with the individual, the better the efficiency of this skill.
Noble Phantasms
Phantasm Thief - Birthright of Heroes - A+ (Anti-Unit)
The crystallisation of Morgan's theft of the scabbard Avalon, from her half-sister Arturia, which paved the way for Mordred to take over Arturia's failing kingdom.
Caster's Noble Phantasms are her hands: once she touches another Servant's Noble Phantasm, and that servant is also no longer holding the Noble Phantasm, she makes it her own. All Noble Phantasms with a physical form are vulnerable to this, while conceptual phantasms may be forced into a physical state first. Caster automatically gains compatibility with the Noble Phantasm and its legend and is able to use its True Name with no drawbacks.
Avalon - Garden of the Foreverdistant Utopia - EX (Anti-World)
A fragment from a time long bygone, Avalon is an existence that peels away the fabric of the age of Man and brings about the Age of Faeries within its bounds, establishing it as Morgan le Fay's territory. Stepping within its bounds is tantamount to taking a trip one and a half thousand years into the past.
Within the bounds of this area, magic is as plentiful as it were during the Age of Faeries, increasing Caster's abilities to their maximum potential. The very ground seems to brim with life, and glittering lights in the forests signal the presence of faeries and spirits. In the distance a single tall tower rises out of a field of flowers, and beyond that is an isle upon a pristine lake, shrouded in mist.
Additional Noble Phantasms remain hidden.
It's so, so hard to tear your eyes away from Morgan, but you meet Rider's eyes. He looks… resolute. He must've had suspected Caster's identity for a while now, and been ready for the revelation. You would berate him for keeping something as important as the fact that Caster was Morgan le Fay from you, but you can understand his logic - identity known or not, you had to proceed the same regardless.
Finally, Menw speaks. His voice is as cold as the north wind blowing through the mist-shrouded forests of Albion, yet frothing out like steam from between a boar's tusks. "Morgan, foe of Camelot, you face Menw fab Teirgwaedd. I learnt my arts from King Uther Pendragon himself, and rode down the Twrch Trwyth. Come, sorceress, if you dare."
Morgan laughed, loud and cruel, "My, you may prove entertaining yet. And I hope your Master is more useful than mine was."
Dead leaves on the ground flutter and the trees begin to rustle. The whispering of the wind rose to a wail. Menw's cloak fluttered in the wind, as he held his staff before him.
Everything happens all at once.
The wind erupts. A near solid block of air rockets towards Caster. Menw spins his staff to the left and right, and dirt is kicked up as blades of air swing out, attempting to bisect Caster. The ground below Menw bursts, tendrils of thorny vines reaching up and lunging forward like snakes only a split second behind the wind hammer.
That's all you see, before you push all the prana you can into your legs and run straight for your enemy's lair, Lancer close behind your heels. It occurs to you that whatever Caster had done to cause Lancer to lack a Heroic Spirit, there could be a way to reverse it, here in her territory.
The bounded field around Caster's workshop is incredible. You don't even notice it until you're already inside, and only then do you realize it by virtue of what it does to you. It sends shivers rattling down your body as if hundreds of millipedes were crawling along your spine. If you weren't a mage, this gut-wrenching terror would've had you hurling up everything you had inside your body.
No, even if you were a mage.
The only thing that keeps you on your feet here is Assassin. No matter how bad this was, the Evening Bell had been worse. And you'd survived that.
You push through a thicket of trees, and come upon Caster's domain. A tall, graceful castle, with moonlit arches and shining walls. The moat bubbled greenish-silver. The drawbridge was down and the gates wide open - you were invited in.
You have no time to admire the artificial grandeur or fake beauty. You sprint across the bridge into the castle, hoping beyond hope that Rider would survive long enough for you to find Alice. It hasn't even been two minutes since their battle began.
Where were prisoners kept? In the dungeon. There's no obvious trap door or cellar entry, so you take the first staircase you see headed downwards. You ignore the lavishly decorated hallways and staircases and zero in onto the very first downwards stair you find. You take the steps three at a time. Suddenly, your legs feel leaden and you stumble, crashing down the rest of the flight. Your prana is vanishing at an alarming rate.
Through your mental link, you sense that Rider is still alive and fighting, though he's not talking. Unlike the other fights so far, you actually feel him tugging at your prana reserves. He's burning through it. You can only hope he's having success against Caster.
It's only been three minutes since they started fighting.
You arrive at the lowest floor and freeze.
Standing before you are more than a dozen. They're slight of stature, with faces eerily similar to that of Morgan herself. The worst part is how much magical power you can sense emanating from each of them. They aren't servants, but they eclipse Lancer and would have been a match for Rider with their numbers. But they're not the ones to draw your eye.
It's the man in green standing before them. He exudes not life, but an aura of sheer solidity and menace both. The green plate armour covers every inch of the man. It's most likely another homunculi, wearing the armour of the Green Knight, but somehow it had an aura very similar to that of a Servant. Not a proper Servant, but something close to one. Knowing Caster's proficiency for enchanted arms and armour, it would easily be the most dangerous thing in the room.
You take a quick glance around the rest of the room. The dungeons aren't like dungeons at all. The room you're at is wide and spacious, well lit though no light sources are discernible. One side of the room is dominated by shelves and desks and a long workbench. It's so incongruously like your own workshop you have to stop for a moment, resisting the urge to rifle through another Mage's secrets. Two doorways on opposite ends of the room lead to two other rooms - both of which positively brim with magical energy. Alice had to be in one of those two rooms.
The Green Knight speaks, startling your attention back to him, "Halt. You, who would trespass the domain of my lady, name yourself."
"Good eve, Sir," You begin, slowly reaching into your pockets as you do, "I am Alexander Thorn, Second Owner of York and Master of Lancer and Rider. Who do I have the honour of addressing?"
The Green Knight draws his sword, in response to your hands in your pockets. He's imposingly tall, nearly seven feet. "I am Sir Accolon of Gaul, Favoured by the Lady. The Lady is currently predisposed, and has left orders that no one is to enter her workshop. I bid you and your servant await her in the waiting hall. I shall not warn you again."
You curse with the realization why Sir Accolon feels like a Servant yet is not. Caster's Hero Creation skills were formidable indeed, to be able to draw even a fragment of a proper Heroic Spirit into a homunculus body. Your hands tighten.
"My apologies, Sir, but haste prevents me from waiting for the Lady. She will be predisposed for a long time, and I believe she has something of mine. If you would be so kind to allow me-"
"-in!"
No matter how fast you are, a Servant was faster. It was true for Accolon. A glint of steel and a rush of air, as Sir Accolon leapt at you, sword thrusting outwards. But you were ready for it, and Lancer stepped forth, nameless spear batting away false sword.
The dozen homunculi move into action, stepping forward in two wings of six, wielding swords and shields. You throw out your arms. Four bramble-grenades explode and the room is instantly drowned in bark and thorns. Forcing down the twitching pain of your Brambleheart still greedily gulping ambient prana, you raise up your arm and yell out the spell: "Droigheann Naisg!"
Every bramble and thorn goes utterly wild, twisting and turning and lashing in every direction, coiling around the homunculi, simultaneously crushing them to death and impaling them on innumerable oversized thorns. Four of the homunculi are killed instantly. The remainder survive the hurricane of thorns long enough to bring their swords to bear. However thick your vines are, the swords cut through them like hot knives.
Two of them are still mortally wounded. One has lost an arm and has gaping holes in the chest where thorns as thick as your fist have struck them. The other's lower body has been crushed almost entirely.
Humans could still be dangerous with those injuries. These were Homunculi made by the greatest sorceress of the Age of Faeries.
You push prana into every limb of your body. It's like a river bursting its banks. Every limb in your body screams in pain as they're reinforced to the limits of flesh and bone. The Brambleheart grows even more excited, the one long vine that had been continuously growing spurting out by the inches. It's nearly three feet long now, and twice as thick as your arm. Your left hand was useless - if you intended to use it.
You dive into the midst of the Homunculi, ducking under a sword swing. With an utterance of "Snathgail", the vine rises at your command. You shove the homunculi who had swung at you, your speed and power tossing it back several feet, and swing your arm around wide. The vine smashes into the armless homunculi and outright tears her in half.
Accolon raises Lancer into the air, holding him up by the throat with one arm as easily as you'd hold up a child. You see it by the corner of your eyes and have only a split second to react. Accolon pulls his arm back and throws Lancer straight at you. You leap out of the way just in time and Lancer smashes into one of the homunculi instead, hitting with such incredible force the impact of their bodies cracks the stone floor and ploughs a channel. Neither bodies move.
Lancer is still alive. Somehow, its just barely clinging to this existence.
Six homunculi, and Sir Accolon of Gaul remain. The homunculi suddenly step back, lining up behind the Green Knight.
"Your servant has fallen, Magus. Will you face me yourself now?" Sir Accolon intones. There are only scratches on his armour. The fact that Sir Accolon is still a knight, with a knight's honour, is the only thing keeping you alive. He could've already run you through by now if he wanted.
You glance around. You still have four grenades, and a dozen minor treants up your sleeve, but neither would suffice against Accolon. There weren't enough deritrus from your bramble-grenades for a good Marbhaich, and even if there were, your foe was far too well armoured.
Suddenly, you sense a bit of surprise from the knight. He looks past you and you follow his gaze.
Lancer is moving. It slowly stands up, pulling itself up torturously. Nearly ten heartbeats pass, until it stands up, though more by virtue of the spear than its own body. The spear - the only noble phantasm it possessed, good for nothing but Breaking.
"Your servant has spirit." Accolon says. "Nameless and faceless though he may be."
The command seals burn on your hand. If there was ever a time to use them, while Sir Accolon was momentarily distracted, it was now. Your legs twitch, preparing to spring to a run out of Accolon's range the moment you used them.
[ ] Use a Command Seal to order Lancer to fire off a Broken Phantasm, destroying the spear forever.
[ ] Use a Command Seal to summon Rider back to your side - you can sense he's still in fighting condition.
[ ] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
[ ] Write-in.
Whewh, that was a doozy. Rider vs Caster will be shown in the next update, regardless of whatever option is selected, since how the hell is he still alive is a good question given Caster's sheet.
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ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[X] Use a Command Seal to summon Rider back to your side - you can sense he's still in fighting condition.
Lancers heart is here we have to find it
Lancers heart is here we have to find it
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Missing dot, or an unfinished sentence?
"on"?
"clinging to", or perhaps "clinging onto"?
[x] Use a Command Seal to order Lancer to fire off a Broken Phantasm, destroying the spear forever.
I don't think we can afford to summon Rider since he is doing the important job of keeping a high-level boss away from us.
...could probably use two Command Seals, since we've got extras. I'd still prefer to use the second one to extract Rider after we are done, if he's still alive by then.
Namer
ᵘʷᵘ
- Location
- Bangladesh
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ye sorry, this update has quite a few typos. Wrote and posted in one go, so. Will fix them when I wake up in a few hours.
Feel free to write in multiple CS uses for other options too.
- Location
- Europe
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
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[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
I think we need to use two command seals here to keep going in the fight. We can't summon Rider, as other people already said, since he's too important in holding off Morgana, and I really think we shouldn't use the Broken Phantasm. I say that because, most likely, our actual Heroic Spirit is behind one of those two doors, and breaking the spear could cripple them in the long run. Best case, it can be repaired, but since this is the homunculi which is supposed to house the Servant, I'm not feeling ready to take that chance.
Plus, we already have 6 command seals, I think we can spare two here.
I think we need to use two command seals here to keep going in the fight. We can't summon Rider, as other people already said, since he's too important in holding off Morgana, and I really think we shouldn't use the Broken Phantasm. I say that because, most likely, our actual Heroic Spirit is behind one of those two doors, and breaking the spear could cripple them in the long run. Best case, it can be repaired, but since this is the homunculi which is supposed to house the Servant, I'm not feeling ready to take that chance.
Plus, we already have 6 command seals, I think we can spare two here.
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
Broken Phantasm draws its power from the destruction. Nothing short of a Command Seal would do it...in which case why not just spend two eh?
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
Oh right forgot about the extra seals from the kid
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
- Location
- Germany
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
You know you're in a great spot, if all your options require you to use a Command Seal.
You know you're in a great spot, if all your options require you to use a Command Seal.
Dark Lord Potato
Aspiring OverLord from Canada
- Location
- Ottawa, Ontario
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
Hmm is Accolon the Heroic Spirit that should have been summoned into Lancer? Any way we could fix that?
We could also potentially pull Kirei's trick from Zero, use the Command Seals to empower Brambleheart directly. It didn't seem like that was particularly efficient, but it would offset prana strain.
Edit: Neither option seems particularly feasible.
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
We could also potentially pull Kirei's trick from Zero, use the Command Seals to empower Brambleheart directly. It didn't seem like that was particularly efficient, but it would offset prana strain.
Edit: Neither option seems particularly feasible.
[X] Use two Command Seals to fully rejuvenate Lancer and temporarily empower him to fight Accolon.
Last edited:
The Fourth Night - Beastbane
Namer
ᵘʷᵘ
- Location
- Bangladesh
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"Strike Air: Wind Hammer!"
The wind erupts. A near solid block of air rockets towards Caster. Menw spins his staff to the left and right, and dirt is kicked up as blades of air swing out, attempting to bisect Caster. The ground below Menw bursts, tendrils of thorny vines reaching up and lunging forward like snakes only a split second behind the wind hammer.
Caster flicks her hand contemptuously, and a countering blast of wind ripples outwards from her body that breaks apart all the projectiles from Invisible Air. The wind shreds the vines too. They fall to the ground in tatters, but Menw is already moving, gathering more Invisible Air before him. Before the blast of wind reaches him he raises the Invisible Air as a shield.
The two winds cancel each other out, throwing up a plume of dust before Menw. His body twists, distorting as he shifts shape, obscured by the dust. At the same time, half a dozen seeds fall from his cloak to the ground.
Seconds pass.
Morgan is completely at ease, despite Menw's disappearance. They both knew who would come out on top here. It was all a matter of how long it took her. Menw would only hope that his Master and Lancer could handle whatever defenses she had undoubtedly set up in her workshop.
"You're wondering about your master, aren't you?" Morgan calls out. "Do tell me how he enjoys the surprise I've left behind."
After a moment, she adds, "Oh, no, Menw. I have no intention of drawing you out of hiding. I-"
Her hand strikes out, quick as lightning. "-I already know where you are!" She withdraws her fingers, glancing down at the few feathers she'd caught. Menw discards Invisible Air at the same time he shifts. Feather is replaced by fur, and pinions by layers upon layers of muscle and fat, falling upon Morgan with a beastial roar.
She pirouettes on one foot, sliding out of the bear's claws with the easy grace of a dancer. Her hand comes up, motes of magical light gathering. The bear is blasted twenty meters away, crashing against a tree. With a tremendous crack, the tree cracks. Morgan makes a gesture with her hand, and it crashes to the ground atop Menw.
All is quiet.
Morgan le Fay sighs. "Don't tell me you're already defeated, Menw. Arthur certainly never gave up so quickly. Come on, Enchanter-Knight! Show me why you were granted that title!"
The fallen tree shifts, and Menw slowly stands up, his face caked in blood. He spits out a wad of blood. "My title is not for you to question, Morgan le Fay."
"Not to question, not to question," She mutters, "That's what you Knights were all good for. Not questioning. Sitting by mutely as Arthur drove her kingdom to ruin. I never hated my sister, but I hated King Arthur."
"Don't you dare!" Rider shouts, hacking out more blood. "What do you know of kingship? What do you know of how she suffered? You created Mordred, the Knight of Treachery who tore down our Kingdom! You stole our King's treasures and condemned her to death!"
Morgan shook her head, "All of you were blind fools, and you still remain so. I tire of this fight. I hope Accolon hasn't destroyed Lancer's shell completely yet. I have no use for the boy, but the Servant is invaluable."
Energy flares out from both her palms - a veritable rain of fire and light. Menw roars in response, striking his staff into the ground. Countless branches and roots explode from it. The rain of light disintegrates the torrent of earth and bark. Menw's staff shatters in his hands, but he makes a gesture and the splinters of wood shoot towards Caster like bullets.
Caster shimmers and the splinters pass through harmlessly. She smiles. Ten identical Morgans flicker into existence around Menw.
He could sniff out the real one. But he can't shapeshift while he's still countering the magical artillery Morgan is unleashing. The falling light has been magnified tenfold in intensity, but nine-tenths of it is an illusion.
Spindly wooden fingers reach out towards each illusion of Caster. The treants had finally spouted from the seeds Menw had dropped. Every one of Caster's illusions' eyes widen, but only one turns to blast it away. That is all the confirmation Menw needs.
Even as his body is pierced through in half a dozen spots, Menw turns, steel materializing in his hand.
Eye for Eye, Poison for Poison
Beastbane Lance!
He hurls it like a javelin. It breaks the sonic barrier the instant it leaves his hand, flying with the force of a railgun projectile. The raining lasers are scattered by the force of its passage, twisting around the silver streak.
Even as the first Lance is in the air, Rider gathers the second and final Beastbane Lance. He only has one shot.
The first Lance strikes a wall of stone. The impact is colossal. Coruscating sparks bloom into life, glowing with the intensity of a small sun. The shockwave buffets Menw, sending him stumbling back and down to his knees. It seems like the ear-rending sound of metal gouging stone lasts forever. Through narrowed eyes, Menw sees the stone barrier shatter and the Lance pass harmlessly through Caster's body. Another illusion.
There are dozens of illusions around him, each bearing the same smirk.
He sighs. It wasn't far from how he expected it to end. But that was his lot in life - a shadow behind others, fated to bow out before the end of the story - and it seemed it would be his lot once again.
I hope you've found her. Caster will be coming soon. He told his Master. Thorn was a good man, despite subscribing to some of the same follies as other modern magi.
Menw stands up on trembling feet, hand held high. One last try, then.
"Strike Air: Storm Wave!" Invisible Air answered his call one last time, swirling into razorine patterns of wind. He held it only for a moment, then let it explode outwards.
The wind carries everything around him, dirt, debris and his own blood, blasting outwards. It passes through the illusory Morgans, sending them stumbling back. At the same time he shapeshifted, just his nose, and sniffed out the true Witch of Avalon.
He prepares the last blow, sheathing it in Invisible Air. Wind to twist and bend light around it until it was invisible. Wind to carve out a channel for it, pushing away all resistance and elevating its speed to incredible levels. She would not see it coming, nor block it in time. He honestly doubted he would survive for much longer, even if he took out Morgan le Fay here and now, but this was all he could do for his Master, and for himself. And so he would do it - it was a knight's duty.
Menw releases his final Beastbane Lance.
You breathe heavily, taking full advantage of the momentary respite Accolon has offered you. The Seals on your hand seem to burn, itching to be used. The Brambleheart on your other hand burns too, but its is a jealous burn. It simply wants more prana.
But you can't afford to give it much more.
Suddenly, you hear Menw, "I hope you've found her. Caster will be coming soon." Through the link, you feel Rider flagging, countless wounds across his body. You want to tell him to retreat, but you know the longer he occupies Caster, the better a chance you will have. You only need a few minutes more.
You only reply with a mental nod, focusing on the moment.
"What will it be, Magus?" Accolon's body seems to tense. He's almost done waiting for an answer. So are you.
"By my Command Seal, Lancer, be healed and purified! By my Command Seal, Lancer, be honed and strengthened! Defeat Accolon of Gaul!"
You clench your fist and pull, drawing power. Two command seals flare with a red glow, fading from existence as they do. You can't see Accolon's eyes widen behind the slits of his helmet, but you can almost imagine it, as he draws back his sword, and lunges straight for you.
Lancer intercepts him with such incredible power and force that the clash of spear and sword throws you backwards from the force. The Homunculi have not fared much better either. They scramble for you, charging at you. A mental nudge from you sees one's head explode as Lancer reverses its spear between two strikes and strikes it in the temp[le with the butt.
With a word from you, the Brambleheart's vine snaps towards the nearest Homunculi like a striking snake. It manages to dodge, shifting to the side just in time for the vine to pass by, and before you can swing it around a sword flashes up and the majority of the length of the vine falls to the ground limply.
You could have grown another vine whip, if you had the time and prana to spare. You feel your energy being siphoned away. Rider is using both his Noble Phantasms in concerto, and even though his own Magical Power is significant, it's not entirely enough to support both of them. The thought of using a Command Seal to help Rider flashes across your mind, but something tells you if Rider wanted a Command Seal he would have asked for it.
No, Rider would fulfil his duty, even if it meant dying.
The histories, myths and legends of Britain were dotted with heroes, great and small. From King Arthur, a famous name across the world, to Menw Son of Three Cries, a lonely druid who took up armour and sword and pledged himself to the service of the king of the land, out of chivalry, honour and hope. Heroes were heroes because they held onto their ideals, to whatever end.
To whatever end.
The thought fills you with determination. It's like an electric shock, as that feeling surges through you like prana, setting your body and mind aflame with renewed energy.
You push in close to the nearest Homunculi, the one who had sliced off your vine whip. Your accelerated reflexes let you come in low, ducking just under the swing of its weapon. You don't have to activate a spell or anything. You just tackle it. It's definitely stronger than a human, but full-body reinforcement does the trick.
Both of you tumble to the ground. Before the homunculus or any of its comrades can strike at you, you put your left arm straight above its heart and push.
Instead of the uncontrolled writhing and growing the Brambleheart normally does, it creates a single thorn that is as long as your arm. It grows explosively, straight through your enemy. The homunculus goes limp without another movement.
Four left. They surround you, ready to strike at any moment, yet keeping their distance now that they've seen your melee capabilities. With a grunt of pain, you break off the overgrown thorn, holding it in your right hand like a dagger.
On the other end of the room, Lancer drives back Accolon with such fury and force it seems its trying to make up for the last few days. The power of the Command Seals drives its body to their maximum output, and beyond. For this short while, he would've been a match for any Servant in the War. Accolon, false servant that he is, falls back under relentless swipes and thrusts of the plain lance. Though Lancer's fighting style is normally completely plain and simple, your own aggression and desperation seems to be affecting it. His attacks are faster and faster, wilder and less practiced, but nonetheless all the more effective for it.
The lance cuts through the air, tearing long gashes in Accolon's armour. The Knight is bleeding, barely holding his own as he retreats across the hall. He blocks a blow from Lancer and is sent stumbling back. He crashes into one of the workbenches, shattering glass and crystals. Lancer is upon him in an instant, lashing out with one foot, kicking Accolon across the room.
It's pretty satisfying to watch the complete reversal. But you have to turn your eyes away from the fight, and focus on your own attackers.
None of the Homunculi are attacking you, wary of what you could do, but you're just as wary of the reach of their blades. Before you know, they've corralled you away from Lancer and Accolon's duel and towards one of the rooms to the side. You risk taking your eyes off the Homunculi to glance in for a split second. There is only one object in the room - a crystal as tall as you are, glowing with a nebulous light that moved and twisted agitatedly. As you catch sight of it, your hand tingles. Your command seals-?
Everything seems to go quiet, as your eyes move past it and back to the homunculi. Even if they weren't human, they could make mistakes. You just have to wait for a chance, and hope that chance comes before Lancer's boost or Rider's battle ends.
The thought flashes in your mind, and it is accompanied by silence.
You can't feel the link between you and Rider anymore.
There's no time for regret. Only for motion.
Even as you prepare to throw one of your remaining bramble-grenades, the Homunculi lower their arms and step back. The temperature in the room seems to drop five degrees. Across the room, Accolon staggers to his feet with renewed fervor, the bloody wounds across his body glowing dark blue and closing up. As if sensing the new threat, Lancer jumps back to your side. He's still empowered, though it wouldn't last much longer.
Time was up.
Like a specter of death Morgan le Fay glides into the room. She looks no worse for the wear for her fight against Rider. One hand was hidden within the folds of her clothes, and the other…
The other grips a very familiar shape. It was a lance. One of Rider's Beastbane Lances. She holds it with minimal effort, the shaft resting on her shoulders.
Menw is impaled through it.
His body is limp, lifeless. Countless wounds pockmark his body. Only crimson fragments remain of his tattered armour. His torso has been gored through by the lance.
Caster's mouth widens to a smile, as she notices you and the expression of horror on your face. The soft thump of Menw's body falling to the ground is drowned out by the ringing of the lance.
"I hope you haven't bought along any more of my sister's fanatic yes-men." She glances around at her ruined workshop. Accolon and the Homunculi kneel down as her eyes sweep over them. "Now, I doubt you have a lot of options left, Alexander Thorn. Can we discuss this like civilized magi?"
[ ] 'Not a lot of options' is not the same as no options at all. Rider didn't give his life so you could simply surrender now.
[ ] To be proud is to fall. To fall on the battlefield is to die. There're always parleys in war, and they're usually honoured.
I'm not really satisfied with how the second half came out, but it was taking too long anyway. Hope you don't mind the overall pacing of the fight being a little clunky. I don't think I've ever actually written two simultaneous fights from both points of views.
The wind erupts. A near solid block of air rockets towards Caster. Menw spins his staff to the left and right, and dirt is kicked up as blades of air swing out, attempting to bisect Caster. The ground below Menw bursts, tendrils of thorny vines reaching up and lunging forward like snakes only a split second behind the wind hammer.
Caster flicks her hand contemptuously, and a countering blast of wind ripples outwards from her body that breaks apart all the projectiles from Invisible Air. The wind shreds the vines too. They fall to the ground in tatters, but Menw is already moving, gathering more Invisible Air before him. Before the blast of wind reaches him he raises the Invisible Air as a shield.
The two winds cancel each other out, throwing up a plume of dust before Menw. His body twists, distorting as he shifts shape, obscured by the dust. At the same time, half a dozen seeds fall from his cloak to the ground.
Seconds pass.
Morgan is completely at ease, despite Menw's disappearance. They both knew who would come out on top here. It was all a matter of how long it took her. Menw would only hope that his Master and Lancer could handle whatever defenses she had undoubtedly set up in her workshop.
"You're wondering about your master, aren't you?" Morgan calls out. "Do tell me how he enjoys the surprise I've left behind."
After a moment, she adds, "Oh, no, Menw. I have no intention of drawing you out of hiding. I-"
Her hand strikes out, quick as lightning. "-I already know where you are!" She withdraws her fingers, glancing down at the few feathers she'd caught. Menw discards Invisible Air at the same time he shifts. Feather is replaced by fur, and pinions by layers upon layers of muscle and fat, falling upon Morgan with a beastial roar.
She pirouettes on one foot, sliding out of the bear's claws with the easy grace of a dancer. Her hand comes up, motes of magical light gathering. The bear is blasted twenty meters away, crashing against a tree. With a tremendous crack, the tree cracks. Morgan makes a gesture with her hand, and it crashes to the ground atop Menw.
All is quiet.
Morgan le Fay sighs. "Don't tell me you're already defeated, Menw. Arthur certainly never gave up so quickly. Come on, Enchanter-Knight! Show me why you were granted that title!"
The fallen tree shifts, and Menw slowly stands up, his face caked in blood. He spits out a wad of blood. "My title is not for you to question, Morgan le Fay."
"Not to question, not to question," She mutters, "That's what you Knights were all good for. Not questioning. Sitting by mutely as Arthur drove her kingdom to ruin. I never hated my sister, but I hated King Arthur."
"Don't you dare!" Rider shouts, hacking out more blood. "What do you know of kingship? What do you know of how she suffered? You created Mordred, the Knight of Treachery who tore down our Kingdom! You stole our King's treasures and condemned her to death!"
Morgan shook her head, "All of you were blind fools, and you still remain so. I tire of this fight. I hope Accolon hasn't destroyed Lancer's shell completely yet. I have no use for the boy, but the Servant is invaluable."
Energy flares out from both her palms - a veritable rain of fire and light. Menw roars in response, striking his staff into the ground. Countless branches and roots explode from it. The rain of light disintegrates the torrent of earth and bark. Menw's staff shatters in his hands, but he makes a gesture and the splinters of wood shoot towards Caster like bullets.
Caster shimmers and the splinters pass through harmlessly. She smiles. Ten identical Morgans flicker into existence around Menw.
He could sniff out the real one. But he can't shapeshift while he's still countering the magical artillery Morgan is unleashing. The falling light has been magnified tenfold in intensity, but nine-tenths of it is an illusion.
Spindly wooden fingers reach out towards each illusion of Caster. The treants had finally spouted from the seeds Menw had dropped. Every one of Caster's illusions' eyes widen, but only one turns to blast it away. That is all the confirmation Menw needs.
Even as his body is pierced through in half a dozen spots, Menw turns, steel materializing in his hand.
Eye for Eye, Poison for Poison
Beastbane Lance!
He hurls it like a javelin. It breaks the sonic barrier the instant it leaves his hand, flying with the force of a railgun projectile. The raining lasers are scattered by the force of its passage, twisting around the silver streak.
Even as the first Lance is in the air, Rider gathers the second and final Beastbane Lance. He only has one shot.
The first Lance strikes a wall of stone. The impact is colossal. Coruscating sparks bloom into life, glowing with the intensity of a small sun. The shockwave buffets Menw, sending him stumbling back and down to his knees. It seems like the ear-rending sound of metal gouging stone lasts forever. Through narrowed eyes, Menw sees the stone barrier shatter and the Lance pass harmlessly through Caster's body. Another illusion.
There are dozens of illusions around him, each bearing the same smirk.
He sighs. It wasn't far from how he expected it to end. But that was his lot in life - a shadow behind others, fated to bow out before the end of the story - and it seemed it would be his lot once again.
I hope you've found her. Caster will be coming soon. He told his Master. Thorn was a good man, despite subscribing to some of the same follies as other modern magi.
Menw stands up on trembling feet, hand held high. One last try, then.
"Strike Air: Storm Wave!" Invisible Air answered his call one last time, swirling into razorine patterns of wind. He held it only for a moment, then let it explode outwards.
The wind carries everything around him, dirt, debris and his own blood, blasting outwards. It passes through the illusory Morgans, sending them stumbling back. At the same time he shapeshifted, just his nose, and sniffed out the true Witch of Avalon.
He prepares the last blow, sheathing it in Invisible Air. Wind to twist and bend light around it until it was invisible. Wind to carve out a channel for it, pushing away all resistance and elevating its speed to incredible levels. She would not see it coming, nor block it in time. He honestly doubted he would survive for much longer, even if he took out Morgan le Fay here and now, but this was all he could do for his Master, and for himself. And so he would do it - it was a knight's duty.
Menw releases his final Beastbane Lance.
You breathe heavily, taking full advantage of the momentary respite Accolon has offered you. The Seals on your hand seem to burn, itching to be used. The Brambleheart on your other hand burns too, but its is a jealous burn. It simply wants more prana.
But you can't afford to give it much more.
Suddenly, you hear Menw, "I hope you've found her. Caster will be coming soon." Through the link, you feel Rider flagging, countless wounds across his body. You want to tell him to retreat, but you know the longer he occupies Caster, the better a chance you will have. You only need a few minutes more.
You only reply with a mental nod, focusing on the moment.
"What will it be, Magus?" Accolon's body seems to tense. He's almost done waiting for an answer. So are you.
"By my Command Seal, Lancer, be healed and purified! By my Command Seal, Lancer, be honed and strengthened! Defeat Accolon of Gaul!"
You clench your fist and pull, drawing power. Two command seals flare with a red glow, fading from existence as they do. You can't see Accolon's eyes widen behind the slits of his helmet, but you can almost imagine it, as he draws back his sword, and lunges straight for you.
Lancer intercepts him with such incredible power and force that the clash of spear and sword throws you backwards from the force. The Homunculi have not fared much better either. They scramble for you, charging at you. A mental nudge from you sees one's head explode as Lancer reverses its spear between two strikes and strikes it in the temp[le with the butt.
With a word from you, the Brambleheart's vine snaps towards the nearest Homunculi like a striking snake. It manages to dodge, shifting to the side just in time for the vine to pass by, and before you can swing it around a sword flashes up and the majority of the length of the vine falls to the ground limply.
You could have grown another vine whip, if you had the time and prana to spare. You feel your energy being siphoned away. Rider is using both his Noble Phantasms in concerto, and even though his own Magical Power is significant, it's not entirely enough to support both of them. The thought of using a Command Seal to help Rider flashes across your mind, but something tells you if Rider wanted a Command Seal he would have asked for it.
No, Rider would fulfil his duty, even if it meant dying.
The histories, myths and legends of Britain were dotted with heroes, great and small. From King Arthur, a famous name across the world, to Menw Son of Three Cries, a lonely druid who took up armour and sword and pledged himself to the service of the king of the land, out of chivalry, honour and hope. Heroes were heroes because they held onto their ideals, to whatever end.
To whatever end.
The thought fills you with determination. It's like an electric shock, as that feeling surges through you like prana, setting your body and mind aflame with renewed energy.
You push in close to the nearest Homunculi, the one who had sliced off your vine whip. Your accelerated reflexes let you come in low, ducking just under the swing of its weapon. You don't have to activate a spell or anything. You just tackle it. It's definitely stronger than a human, but full-body reinforcement does the trick.
Both of you tumble to the ground. Before the homunculus or any of its comrades can strike at you, you put your left arm straight above its heart and push.
Instead of the uncontrolled writhing and growing the Brambleheart normally does, it creates a single thorn that is as long as your arm. It grows explosively, straight through your enemy. The homunculus goes limp without another movement.
Four left. They surround you, ready to strike at any moment, yet keeping their distance now that they've seen your melee capabilities. With a grunt of pain, you break off the overgrown thorn, holding it in your right hand like a dagger.
On the other end of the room, Lancer drives back Accolon with such fury and force it seems its trying to make up for the last few days. The power of the Command Seals drives its body to their maximum output, and beyond. For this short while, he would've been a match for any Servant in the War. Accolon, false servant that he is, falls back under relentless swipes and thrusts of the plain lance. Though Lancer's fighting style is normally completely plain and simple, your own aggression and desperation seems to be affecting it. His attacks are faster and faster, wilder and less practiced, but nonetheless all the more effective for it.
Class: Lancer
Master: Alexander Thorn
True Name: NULL
Noble Phantasm: NULL
Parameters:
Strength: E (E+++)
Endurance: E (E+++)
Agility: E (E+++)
Magical Power: E (E+++)
Luck: E (E+++)
Master: Alexander Thorn
True Name: NULL
Noble Phantasm: NULL
Parameters:
Strength: E (E+++)
Endurance: E (E+++)
Agility: E (E+++)
Magical Power: E (E+++)
Luck: E (E+++)
The lance cuts through the air, tearing long gashes in Accolon's armour. The Knight is bleeding, barely holding his own as he retreats across the hall. He blocks a blow from Lancer and is sent stumbling back. He crashes into one of the workbenches, shattering glass and crystals. Lancer is upon him in an instant, lashing out with one foot, kicking Accolon across the room.
It's pretty satisfying to watch the complete reversal. But you have to turn your eyes away from the fight, and focus on your own attackers.
None of the Homunculi are attacking you, wary of what you could do, but you're just as wary of the reach of their blades. Before you know, they've corralled you away from Lancer and Accolon's duel and towards one of the rooms to the side. You risk taking your eyes off the Homunculi to glance in for a split second. There is only one object in the room - a crystal as tall as you are, glowing with a nebulous light that moved and twisted agitatedly. As you catch sight of it, your hand tingles. Your command seals-?
Everything seems to go quiet, as your eyes move past it and back to the homunculi. Even if they weren't human, they could make mistakes. You just have to wait for a chance, and hope that chance comes before Lancer's boost or Rider's battle ends.
The thought flashes in your mind, and it is accompanied by silence.
You can't feel the link between you and Rider anymore.
There's no time for regret. Only for motion.
Even as you prepare to throw one of your remaining bramble-grenades, the Homunculi lower their arms and step back. The temperature in the room seems to drop five degrees. Across the room, Accolon staggers to his feet with renewed fervor, the bloody wounds across his body glowing dark blue and closing up. As if sensing the new threat, Lancer jumps back to your side. He's still empowered, though it wouldn't last much longer.
Time was up.
Like a specter of death Morgan le Fay glides into the room. She looks no worse for the wear for her fight against Rider. One hand was hidden within the folds of her clothes, and the other…
The other grips a very familiar shape. It was a lance. One of Rider's Beastbane Lances. She holds it with minimal effort, the shaft resting on her shoulders.
Menw is impaled through it.
His body is limp, lifeless. Countless wounds pockmark his body. Only crimson fragments remain of his tattered armour. His torso has been gored through by the lance.
Caster's mouth widens to a smile, as she notices you and the expression of horror on your face. The soft thump of Menw's body falling to the ground is drowned out by the ringing of the lance.
"I hope you haven't bought along any more of my sister's fanatic yes-men." She glances around at her ruined workshop. Accolon and the Homunculi kneel down as her eyes sweep over them. "Now, I doubt you have a lot of options left, Alexander Thorn. Can we discuss this like civilized magi?"
[ ] 'Not a lot of options' is not the same as no options at all. Rider didn't give his life so you could simply surrender now.
[ ] To be proud is to fall. To fall on the battlefield is to die. There're always parleys in war, and they're usually honoured.
I'm not really satisfied with how the second half came out, but it was taking too long anyway. Hope you don't mind the overall pacing of the fight being a little clunky. I don't think I've ever actually written two simultaneous fights from both points of views.
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[X] 'Not a lot of options' is not the same as no options at all. Rider didn't give his life so you could simply surrender now.
- Location
- Somewhere North of south
[X] To be proud is to fall. To fall on the battlefield is to die. There're always parleys in war, and they're usually honoured.
I mean unless anyone thinks we have a secret weapon that can beat caster?
I mean unless anyone thinks we have a secret weapon that can beat caster?
- Location
- Europe
[X] 'Not a lot of options' is not the same as no options at all. Rider didn't give his life so you could simply surrender now.
- Location
- Somewhere North of south
Our options are stand and fight a caster servant in a battle of magic in their own workshop or parley with them