Fate/Distorted Reflection [FSN AU Quest]
- Thread starter Kyrina
- Start date
- Location
- Barquisimeto
[X] Prepare the Hayling property
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
- Location
- Florida
What were the other servants?
Kyrina
A Simple Merchant of Mirrors
- Location
- England
Discoverable in good time, telling you now would spoil the fun.
- Location
- Florida
Discoverable in good time, telling you now would spoil the fun.
SHIT if I was right about it being Ramses...
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
Don't worry that's up to the GM to desi-...
...
...
...
...
Oh shit we're fucked aren't we?
Kyrina
A Simple Merchant of Mirrors
- Location
- England
- Location
- USA
[X] Prepare the Hayling property
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
DonutAttack
Self-Requested Ban
- Location
- The factory of pastries
[X] Prepare the Hayling property
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
First Day - Alistair Kirkwood
Kyrina
A Simple Merchant of Mirrors
- Location
- England
[X] Prepare the Hayling property
Better to be cautious and safe in this War, none of it will matter if you can be eliminated in your own stronghold. The disadvantages of being so far from the site of the war proper is greatly offset by the defensive advantage that property provides. Not to mention the proper workshop there rather than the cramped little place under the Southsea house.
"I will operate from the Hayling house." You tell Wilfred after a moment. "Make sure it's ready by the time I arrive."
"By the time we arrive, ma'am." Wilfred corrects you. Before you can question his presumption he keeps talking. "If you think that I would let my master wander off without someone reliable to watch her back ma'am you are sorely mistaken." There's nothing to say to that, it's not presumption on his part and far be it for anyone to punish devotion.
"Quite besides that I don't believe you can drive." Now that's just teasing! Just because there hasn't been time to arrange a practical exam at a time that's convenient.
"Just go and prepare everything." Wilfred makes a stiff bow and walks away. How can he be so confident of his ability to protect when he's so old? His magecraft is formidable, of course it is, but he isn't anymore.
Well you'll just have to make sure that he doesn't do anything stupid or bite off more than he can chew. That should be easy enough, Wilfred isn't a fool and he won't disobey once you give him an order. You can only hope that your Servant is his equal in that regard. If not there are the three command spells but using them early and for basic things would put you at a disadvantage.
Several hours pass while you prepare to depart. There are already clothes in your rooms at the Hayling property, normally a summer home but there is a small winter selection, so that is already taken care of. It's just the other things you have to prepare and you have, mystic codes resting heavily in your pockets and the case hanging from your right hand.
Wilfred pulls up to the front of the house, a beautiful car in sleek black with silver detailing and a statuette of a woman leaning into the wind at the front. From your limited understanding of such things this is a rather expensive example of its kind and rather old. One of the maids opens the door and you step into the interior. It's all leather and cushions inside, not really comparable to any of the rooms in the house but it has the same air. It's comfortable, it's familiar and reassuring, it's probably the last time you'll feel like this for a while. You savour the feeling.
The purr of the engine is the only sound as Wilfred drives up the gate out of the estate, through the line of tall beech trees and through the gate that opens ahead of the car. The flanking yew trees planted just outside of the intricate ironwork are the last of the estate you see before Wilfred joins the road from the very edge of the South Downs and into Portsmouth.
By the time you reach the city you have formed an opinion on traffic and those driving who aren't Wilfred. Traffic should be outlawed and the madmen in those other cars, the gaudy things that are more plastic than metal, are all idiots. If you stay on the road with them any longer necessary you're sure there will be a crash from their reckless driving.
"Does no one but you know how the rules work?" You demand, bracing one arm against the front seat to avoid smashing into it nose first when Wilfred's forced to brake hard. The red small car that's responsible finishes pulling into your lane and flashes its lights.
"Standards seem to have slipped somewhat." Wilfred answers dryly, accelerating quicker than he should to stop another car pulling in ahead of you. "We're nearly there ma'am, don't worry."
"I'm not worried, I'm.... Fucking hell!" Wilfred hammers the horn at the huge lorry that almost ran you off the road. "We are never driving in this city again."
"Agreed."
Reaching the house at Hayling Island is a bit of trial but nothing as bad as that lorry happens again, which is a relief. It's not as large as the ancestral seat of the Ia'Nuoch family but it has a large basement you've had converted into an adequate workshop. The views from the south facing rooms show the Isle of White sitting on the horizon, a bumpy series of green hills interspersed with buildings. The northern views are less inspiring, the Portsmouth skyline, punctuated by the stark white spire of the Spinnaker Tower.
Wilfred pauses a little down the road from the house. You almost question it but then you look ahead and anger fizzes to life. Him.
Alistair goddamn Kirkwood is standing on the pavement in front of your house, just outside the boundary field. Looking ever so artfully dishevelled with a cigarette cupped in one hand.
"Ma'am should I...."
"Run him over, this is a War and he's my enemy." Wilfred nods and puts the car into gear. You can deal with any witnesses easily enough, even the police should it come to that. Getting rid of Alistair right now is worth it.
Alistair glances up and wags a finger at you, a grin on his face. With his cigarette hand he waves at the houses along the other side of the road from him. The implication in clear, he's already tampered in a way he believes you can't overcome to avoid the police. You grit your teeth and shake your head at Wilfred. He stops the purring motor.
"I hate that man." Without further word you open the car door and step out. The case you leave pushed under the front seat under Wilfred's care for now. He'll protect it with his life.
"Myrna, so good to see you again," Alistair calls in greeting as you stalk over. "I'd like to discuss..."
"Put that out, it stinks." If it wouldn't be terribly impolite and beneath the Lady Ia'Nucoh you'd smack the cigarette from his hand with a great deal of satisfaction, he drops it and crushes it under one foot.
"Sorry, forgot you hate them." Yeah right, as if he would forget something like that. "So about that alliance I proposed to you, luv." Urgh, northerners.
"Much as I would count myself lucky to enter an alliance with so skilled a magus as yourself Alistair I am afraid it's too early for me to consider alliances just yet." And he will never, ever make that list. Not that you plan to inform him of that, the longer he's not attempting to eliminate you the better.
"I see, just as expected of you." Alistair smirks a little and cups his chin in one white gloved hand. "How about we discus it further over dinner. There's this nice little Italian place over towards Old Portsmouth."
"Alistair I don't think...." Please don't mention that bet, please don't mention the bet, please don't....
"And since you owe me dinner from that bet during the summer..." now you really hate him.
"Fine, get in the car." You stab one finger to the machine a few paces away and Alistair's face lights up in a grin. Oh please no.
"That's a roller! Silver Wraith, probably cost a fortune." You honestly have no idea how much it cost, it's older than you are.
"Get in the damn car and navigate before I walk into my house and leave you out here." You will do it if he doesn't be quiet and professional for once in his life. Thankfully he cooperates, more or less, at least you can tune him out in favour of the purring motor.
The Italian place Alistair decided on is a small place, cosy and classic with red checked table cloths as opposed to the more modern places with granite table tops. There's even a candle in the middle of the table. He's really making an effort with this isn't he? He must really want this alliance.
"Look, Alistair it's not that I don't appreciate the advantages of an alliance with you but I don't know the composition of the opposing field or whether our Servants will work well together." Spaghetti with a chicken, tomato and cream sauce isn't as fancy as the kind of thing you're used to but it tastes alright and at least this place won't cost that much.
"Perhaps something more temporary for now?" He suggests, using his fork like a shovel for his lasagne rather than how it's supposed to be used. It's a struggle to stop yourself correcting him or glaring at the offending hand with all your ire.
"You wish to share information with me until we know more than we do currently." He nods, spearing a couple of salad leaves. Funny, you were under the impression northerners disapproved of salad on principle.
"It seems a fair compromise given your complaints. I'm sure my Servant will work admirably with your own." Yes, because you and he work so well together. It's only politeness and witnesses keeping him alive. He knows that.
"I will consider it, perhaps I will have an answer for you tomorrow." You answer, lying through your teeth. The prospect of information sharing is tempting though, it could win you quite the advantage and allow you to feed false information to him in turn. Naturally he could do the same to you. It might be more effort than it's worth.
"That's all I can ask Myrna." Alistair replies. "So how's your meal?" Patience wearing thin you exchange polite pleasantries until finally your meals and wine are finished and the bill comes. It's a negligible amount which you pay easy before bidding Alistair farewell.
All the politeness to him of all people leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Quickly you retrieve the case and start walking further into the old sections of Portsmouth. Very little survives of the city from before nineteen forty, so much burned or was simply levelled during those five years.
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
Late afternoon shifts into cool evening as you walk through the old stone buildings and what remains of the castle. Soon you find a spot that has you skin tingling with power. It was probably a park at some point but now it seems abandoned or at least forgotten by those who maintain such things. On one side there's a high stone wall, probably medieval which is good, and the others are surrounded by trees. Perfect for what you need.
Just in case there are some passersby of a mundane persuasion who might get curious you set up a basic boundary field to deflect their attention. That done you start to make the summoning circle. Nothing fancy, there's no need to waste time an effort when the grail will be doing most of the heavy lifting for you.
It takes half an hour to make it perfect and by then the moon hangs in the sky and a few lonely stars peek through orange tinged clouds. The light pollution of this city affects your view at home it's that powerful. No time to consider that now.
You place the patch of embroidered cloth in the array of curving lines and step back. You raise one hand and close your eyes. Your circuits activate, heating your body until it feels like you're melting. You are used to this, you will overcome, you are a magus.
"Let silver and soul be the essence...."
You've studied the words a thousand times in the last days, they're practically engraved onto the backs of your eyelids. You could recite this in your sleep. Circuits burn and burn in your body, melting you, blackening your bones. You don't react, it's an illusion, a figment, you keep saying the words, calling for the one who wore the patch Diana found for you.
".... Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the holy scales!"
The circle explodes with white light and power. Pranna starts to leave you, a trickle marking the connection and easy to maintain. You refuse to shield your eyes from the light and you see him the moment it fades. Your Servant, your winning card in this War. A legend reborn into the modern world.
He's tall with hair so pale blonde it almost looks white, a small well tamed beard graces an aristocratic face. A long black coat flows over lighter coloured medieval looking shirt and trousers. High black, shiny boots reach practically to his knees and in one hand he has a spear. But, despite his appearance telling you he should be refined and lordly all you feel from him a wild anger and bestiality.
Your Master's clairvoyance kicks in and...
Oh fuck. You didn't want a Berserker! Let alone this Berserker.
Berserker looks at you, his eyes slide to the red marks on the back of your hand. "You, impudent worm! How dare you summon me as this beast!" Before you can react Berserker launches himself at you.
His hand closes around your throat and your feet leave the ground. Air is barely making it to your lungs and Berserker's not even squeezing. His eyes narrow at you. You have just one moment to stop your own Servant murdering you. Better make it count.
[ ] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
[ ] By my command spell....
-[ ] Don't kill me
-[ ] Kill yourself
-[ ] Write in
[ ] Use your magecraft to by yourself some time
Don't say I didn't warn you *hides in a bunker*
Better to be cautious and safe in this War, none of it will matter if you can be eliminated in your own stronghold. The disadvantages of being so far from the site of the war proper is greatly offset by the defensive advantage that property provides. Not to mention the proper workshop there rather than the cramped little place under the Southsea house.
"I will operate from the Hayling house." You tell Wilfred after a moment. "Make sure it's ready by the time I arrive."
"By the time we arrive, ma'am." Wilfred corrects you. Before you can question his presumption he keeps talking. "If you think that I would let my master wander off without someone reliable to watch her back ma'am you are sorely mistaken." There's nothing to say to that, it's not presumption on his part and far be it for anyone to punish devotion.
"Quite besides that I don't believe you can drive." Now that's just teasing! Just because there hasn't been time to arrange a practical exam at a time that's convenient.
"Just go and prepare everything." Wilfred makes a stiff bow and walks away. How can he be so confident of his ability to protect when he's so old? His magecraft is formidable, of course it is, but he isn't anymore.
Well you'll just have to make sure that he doesn't do anything stupid or bite off more than he can chew. That should be easy enough, Wilfred isn't a fool and he won't disobey once you give him an order. You can only hope that your Servant is his equal in that regard. If not there are the three command spells but using them early and for basic things would put you at a disadvantage.
Several hours pass while you prepare to depart. There are already clothes in your rooms at the Hayling property, normally a summer home but there is a small winter selection, so that is already taken care of. It's just the other things you have to prepare and you have, mystic codes resting heavily in your pockets and the case hanging from your right hand.
Wilfred pulls up to the front of the house, a beautiful car in sleek black with silver detailing and a statuette of a woman leaning into the wind at the front. From your limited understanding of such things this is a rather expensive example of its kind and rather old. One of the maids opens the door and you step into the interior. It's all leather and cushions inside, not really comparable to any of the rooms in the house but it has the same air. It's comfortable, it's familiar and reassuring, it's probably the last time you'll feel like this for a while. You savour the feeling.
The purr of the engine is the only sound as Wilfred drives up the gate out of the estate, through the line of tall beech trees and through the gate that opens ahead of the car. The flanking yew trees planted just outside of the intricate ironwork are the last of the estate you see before Wilfred joins the road from the very edge of the South Downs and into Portsmouth.
By the time you reach the city you have formed an opinion on traffic and those driving who aren't Wilfred. Traffic should be outlawed and the madmen in those other cars, the gaudy things that are more plastic than metal, are all idiots. If you stay on the road with them any longer necessary you're sure there will be a crash from their reckless driving.
"Does no one but you know how the rules work?" You demand, bracing one arm against the front seat to avoid smashing into it nose first when Wilfred's forced to brake hard. The red small car that's responsible finishes pulling into your lane and flashes its lights.
"Standards seem to have slipped somewhat." Wilfred answers dryly, accelerating quicker than he should to stop another car pulling in ahead of you. "We're nearly there ma'am, don't worry."
"I'm not worried, I'm.... Fucking hell!" Wilfred hammers the horn at the huge lorry that almost ran you off the road. "We are never driving in this city again."
"Agreed."
Reaching the house at Hayling Island is a bit of trial but nothing as bad as that lorry happens again, which is a relief. It's not as large as the ancestral seat of the Ia'Nuoch family but it has a large basement you've had converted into an adequate workshop. The views from the south facing rooms show the Isle of White sitting on the horizon, a bumpy series of green hills interspersed with buildings. The northern views are less inspiring, the Portsmouth skyline, punctuated by the stark white spire of the Spinnaker Tower.
Wilfred pauses a little down the road from the house. You almost question it but then you look ahead and anger fizzes to life. Him.
Alistair goddamn Kirkwood is standing on the pavement in front of your house, just outside the boundary field. Looking ever so artfully dishevelled with a cigarette cupped in one hand.
"Ma'am should I...."
"Run him over, this is a War and he's my enemy." Wilfred nods and puts the car into gear. You can deal with any witnesses easily enough, even the police should it come to that. Getting rid of Alistair right now is worth it.
Alistair glances up and wags a finger at you, a grin on his face. With his cigarette hand he waves at the houses along the other side of the road from him. The implication in clear, he's already tampered in a way he believes you can't overcome to avoid the police. You grit your teeth and shake your head at Wilfred. He stops the purring motor.
"I hate that man." Without further word you open the car door and step out. The case you leave pushed under the front seat under Wilfred's care for now. He'll protect it with his life.
"Myrna, so good to see you again," Alistair calls in greeting as you stalk over. "I'd like to discuss..."
"Put that out, it stinks." If it wouldn't be terribly impolite and beneath the Lady Ia'Nucoh you'd smack the cigarette from his hand with a great deal of satisfaction, he drops it and crushes it under one foot.
"Sorry, forgot you hate them." Yeah right, as if he would forget something like that. "So about that alliance I proposed to you, luv." Urgh, northerners.
"Much as I would count myself lucky to enter an alliance with so skilled a magus as yourself Alistair I am afraid it's too early for me to consider alliances just yet." And he will never, ever make that list. Not that you plan to inform him of that, the longer he's not attempting to eliminate you the better.
"I see, just as expected of you." Alistair smirks a little and cups his chin in one white gloved hand. "How about we discus it further over dinner. There's this nice little Italian place over towards Old Portsmouth."
"Alistair I don't think...." Please don't mention that bet, please don't mention the bet, please don't....
"And since you owe me dinner from that bet during the summer..." now you really hate him.
"Fine, get in the car." You stab one finger to the machine a few paces away and Alistair's face lights up in a grin. Oh please no.
"That's a roller! Silver Wraith, probably cost a fortune." You honestly have no idea how much it cost, it's older than you are.
"Get in the damn car and navigate before I walk into my house and leave you out here." You will do it if he doesn't be quiet and professional for once in his life. Thankfully he cooperates, more or less, at least you can tune him out in favour of the purring motor.
The Italian place Alistair decided on is a small place, cosy and classic with red checked table cloths as opposed to the more modern places with granite table tops. There's even a candle in the middle of the table. He's really making an effort with this isn't he? He must really want this alliance.
"Look, Alistair it's not that I don't appreciate the advantages of an alliance with you but I don't know the composition of the opposing field or whether our Servants will work well together." Spaghetti with a chicken, tomato and cream sauce isn't as fancy as the kind of thing you're used to but it tastes alright and at least this place won't cost that much.
"Perhaps something more temporary for now?" He suggests, using his fork like a shovel for his lasagne rather than how it's supposed to be used. It's a struggle to stop yourself correcting him or glaring at the offending hand with all your ire.
"You wish to share information with me until we know more than we do currently." He nods, spearing a couple of salad leaves. Funny, you were under the impression northerners disapproved of salad on principle.
"It seems a fair compromise given your complaints. I'm sure my Servant will work admirably with your own." Yes, because you and he work so well together. It's only politeness and witnesses keeping him alive. He knows that.
"I will consider it, perhaps I will have an answer for you tomorrow." You answer, lying through your teeth. The prospect of information sharing is tempting though, it could win you quite the advantage and allow you to feed false information to him in turn. Naturally he could do the same to you. It might be more effort than it's worth.
"That's all I can ask Myrna." Alistair replies. "So how's your meal?" Patience wearing thin you exchange polite pleasantries until finally your meals and wine are finished and the bill comes. It's a negligible amount which you pay easy before bidding Alistair farewell.
All the politeness to him of all people leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Quickly you retrieve the case and start walking further into the old sections of Portsmouth. Very little survives of the city from before nineteen forty, so much burned or was simply levelled during those five years.
[X] Summon your Servant in Old Portsmouth
Late afternoon shifts into cool evening as you walk through the old stone buildings and what remains of the castle. Soon you find a spot that has you skin tingling with power. It was probably a park at some point but now it seems abandoned or at least forgotten by those who maintain such things. On one side there's a high stone wall, probably medieval which is good, and the others are surrounded by trees. Perfect for what you need.
Just in case there are some passersby of a mundane persuasion who might get curious you set up a basic boundary field to deflect their attention. That done you start to make the summoning circle. Nothing fancy, there's no need to waste time an effort when the grail will be doing most of the heavy lifting for you.
It takes half an hour to make it perfect and by then the moon hangs in the sky and a few lonely stars peek through orange tinged clouds. The light pollution of this city affects your view at home it's that powerful. No time to consider that now.
You place the patch of embroidered cloth in the array of curving lines and step back. You raise one hand and close your eyes. Your circuits activate, heating your body until it feels like you're melting. You are used to this, you will overcome, you are a magus.
"Let silver and soul be the essence...."
You've studied the words a thousand times in the last days, they're practically engraved onto the backs of your eyelids. You could recite this in your sleep. Circuits burn and burn in your body, melting you, blackening your bones. You don't react, it's an illusion, a figment, you keep saying the words, calling for the one who wore the patch Diana found for you.
".... Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the holy scales!"
The circle explodes with white light and power. Pranna starts to leave you, a trickle marking the connection and easy to maintain. You refuse to shield your eyes from the light and you see him the moment it fades. Your Servant, your winning card in this War. A legend reborn into the modern world.
He's tall with hair so pale blonde it almost looks white, a small well tamed beard graces an aristocratic face. A long black coat flows over lighter coloured medieval looking shirt and trousers. High black, shiny boots reach practically to his knees and in one hand he has a spear. But, despite his appearance telling you he should be refined and lordly all you feel from him a wild anger and bestiality.
Your Master's clairvoyance kicks in and...
Servant Berserker
Parameters
Str:- C
End:- B
Agi:- C
Man:- D
Luk:- E
Class Skills
Mad Enhancement:- (E-A++)
Currently at it's lowest variable Berserker retains his sanity and only receives a boost to his Endurance parameter.
Parameters
Str:- C
End:- B
Agi:- C
Man:- D
Luk:- E
Class Skills
Mad Enhancement:- (E-A++)
Currently at it's lowest variable Berserker retains his sanity and only receives a boost to his Endurance parameter.
Oh fuck. You didn't want a Berserker! Let alone this Berserker.
Berserker looks at you, his eyes slide to the red marks on the back of your hand. "You, impudent worm! How dare you summon me as this beast!" Before you can react Berserker launches himself at you.
His hand closes around your throat and your feet leave the ground. Air is barely making it to your lungs and Berserker's not even squeezing. His eyes narrow at you. You have just one moment to stop your own Servant murdering you. Better make it count.
[ ] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
[ ] By my command spell....
-[ ] Don't kill me
-[ ] Kill yourself
-[ ] Write in
[ ] Use your magecraft to by yourself some time
Don't say I didn't warn you *hides in a bunker*
- Location
- Florida
Ugh this is why I said this was a bad idea!
D.D. Spectator
Strongest in the land
- Location
- Unknown
Any guess on identity? We know he wielded a spear, was a king (or some form of it), and is medieval. He is also a berserker so it has to be a warrior king who went on a rampage. Should limit the list by a lot.
RexHeller
Title Incoming. Please Hold.
- Location
- Somewhere else.
It's pretty much confirmed that he's Dracula.
Plus there's his physical description.
Which matches this perfectly.
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[X] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
Oh this is going to go hillariously, horribly wrong
The question is, how much juice are we willing to give, and are we willing to risk amping up Mad Enhancment for the power boost, considering his likely reaction to it?
Because right now short of using him as a mad dog with little control, we're kinda forced into using him as the most weaksauce Berserker ever.
Oh this is going to go hillariously, horribly wrong
The question is, how much juice are we willing to give, and are we willing to risk amping up Mad Enhancment for the power boost, considering his likely reaction to it?
Because right now short of using him as a mad dog with little control, we're kinda forced into using him as the most weaksauce Berserker ever.
- Location
- Brazil
[X] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
- Location
- Florida
[X] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
[X] I didn't want a Berserker! Whatever chose this class for you it wasn't me!
Berserker Vlad, We got Berserker Vlad....
My face right now.
Berserker Vlad, We got Berserker Vlad....
My face right now.
- Location
- Surabaya, Indonesia
Berserker Dracula, holy shit the prana drain is going to kill us. Might have to take up rhe sleazy bastard's offer. But I wonder just how broken he is going to be with A++ Mad Enhancement active. Last I checked Dracula is able to tango with an entire team of Servants in Fate/Apocrypha.