Rebuild of Apocrypha (Yet Another Another Fate/etc. Quest)
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User Total LaRed 1 Ridiculously Average Guy 1 Mortifer 1 Soulful100 1 Wade Garrett 2 TehChron 67 The Out Of World 3
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@Mortifer @BlackHadou @wdango @notmi @InfiniteDaze @Nanimani @Lichte
By popular demand of people with not enough time on their hands (*coughMortcough*) I appear to have been called out on my dissatisfaction with how Fate/Apocrypha turned out.
And to be perfectly honest, I still stand by this claim.
I can't promise a masterpiece (that's what @ZerbanDaGreat 's Fate/Hollow Fake is for, seriously read that shit it's great even if I dislike the guy), but I can promise what the source material failed to live up to:
A glorious trainwreck.
For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, the story of Fate/Apocrypha basically follows the norm of Fate/Stay Night, with Servants, Masters, Nasu-babble, and wankery that makes ones head spin even as the story goes off the deep end. Only the difference here is that it's now a Team Battle, with the aptly named Black Faction fighting against their opponents in the Red Faction (like checkers). Each side gets decked out with Seven Servants which tend to adhere to the normal set of classes.
Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker.
Only now, since the Holy Grail even recognizes this situation to be bullshit, summons it's own arbiter of the fight. Named Ruler, the Grail system summons a Saint with ostensibly no wish to make upon the Grail to act as an impartial moderator to ensure that the fight goes smoothly, and that the rules of engagement are adhered to.
What at first promises to be a glorious cluster, in the actual novels, eventually peters out with a great deal of wasted potential. Ending in mind numbing nonsense that somehow manages to make a Dragon appearing out of nowhere to eat the Holy Grail and then proceeding to bail become both pedantic and dull. Truly a waste.
If you find this introduction to be rambling, then I apologize. However, I have done so with the intent of keeping spoilers to a minimum. While I shall be gratuitously having my way with the setting, there are still things of immense relevance which shall remain unchanged.
And so I request that spoilers be either tagged or kept to an absolute minimum if possible for those unfamiliar with the story.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
The Holy Grail War, the words themselves carry a kind of magic. A weight which triggers the imagination, a grip, a yearning, a burning desire that holds sway throughout the ages. Conjuring images of the cup of Christ, a legendary Chalice said to carry the blessings of the Lord himself. The last and first vessel to truly hold his blood of Communion.
Were it genuine, the sheer weight of the belief in it would be staggering. The acts of Communion held worldwide for centuries alone would doubtless grant it the ability to grant any miracle to it's wielder.
And so, it is little wonder that there have been many imitations, each seeking to obtain even a fragment of the dream embodied by it's legend.
But to think that such a wondrous thing was treated as a mere bait. Truly, Magi are such feckless creatures.
The Heaven's Feel ritual, an attempt to imitate the Cup of Christ through sheer force of Mana, bringing together insane amounts of magical energy for the sake of creating a so-called Omnipotent Wish Granting device. To what ends? Who cares? The fact alone is that it exists, and so it therefore is to be used.
In the 1930's, as the world prepared to erupt in war, the Holy Grail was fought for in the Far East nation of Japan. But against all odds, in the chaos of the free for all, an army of mortal men lead by one of the rituals participants absconded with the prize, taking it back to Europe, before the magi turned on his collaborators. The Grail vanished, for nearly 80 years. And then reappeared, within the borders of Romania, in possession of the same man who had stolen the treasure in the first place. And who had, ironically, also spread knowledge of it's miracle.
Leading to sparking of imagination the world over, as an infinite number of False Grail Wars occurred, uncountable multitudes summoning forth ancient heroes and beings of legend to fight to the death.
A miracle all it's own, even if a misguided one.
But the time for the true Grail's re-emergence had come, and so with it at his back, the thief declared to the Moonlit World his intentions, and earned a swift reprisal.
One which was met with an even more swift defeat.
But even so, Magi are ever jealous, spiteful creatures. And in one man's last effort, he reached the Grail, and delivered the Clock Tower's declaration of War. Now to match the thieves in their place of power, an army of Red would come down to visit retribution upon the thief and his Black compatriots for their varied trespasses.
Who are you, in the Great Grail War to come?
[] The Ruler, invigorated by recent events. You gaze upon your renewed holdings and feel your chest swell with a sense of pride. And hope.
[] The Knight, eager to test their blade. The times have provided you with an opportunity you rarely had in life. Your hearts beats heavily in anticipation of the battles to come.
[] The Boy, ensnared by Fate. Recent events have been too chaotic for you to comprehend, and with each passing day you feel more and more lost.
[] The Man, with his head held high. You are a Magi of great experience, understanding what it means to Walk with Death more than most other Magi could ever hope to understand. This shall be your greatest fight yet, but that does not change the fact that battlefields are your hunting ground.
[] The Unknown, cast to the shadows. In another time you were forced to the back stage. But here and now you shall stand on your own two feet and make your bid for the prize.
By popular demand of people with not enough time on their hands (*coughMortcough*) I appear to have been called out on my dissatisfaction with how Fate/Apocrypha turned out.
And to be perfectly honest, I still stand by this claim.
I can't promise a masterpiece (that's what @ZerbanDaGreat 's Fate/Hollow Fake is for, seriously read that shit it's great even if I dislike the guy), but I can promise what the source material failed to live up to:
A glorious trainwreck.
For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, the story of Fate/Apocrypha basically follows the norm of Fate/Stay Night, with Servants, Masters, Nasu-babble, and wankery that makes ones head spin even as the story goes off the deep end. Only the difference here is that it's now a Team Battle, with the aptly named Black Faction fighting against their opponents in the Red Faction (like checkers). Each side gets decked out with Seven Servants which tend to adhere to the normal set of classes.
Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker.
Only now, since the Holy Grail even recognizes this situation to be bullshit, summons it's own arbiter of the fight. Named Ruler, the Grail system summons a Saint with ostensibly no wish to make upon the Grail to act as an impartial moderator to ensure that the fight goes smoothly, and that the rules of engagement are adhered to.
What at first promises to be a glorious cluster, in the actual novels, eventually peters out with a great deal of wasted potential. Ending in mind numbing nonsense that somehow manages to make a Dragon appearing out of nowhere to eat the Holy Grail and then proceeding to bail become both pedantic and dull. Truly a waste.
If you find this introduction to be rambling, then I apologize. However, I have done so with the intent of keeping spoilers to a minimum. While I shall be gratuitously having my way with the setting, there are still things of immense relevance which shall remain unchanged.
And so I request that spoilers be either tagged or kept to an absolute minimum if possible for those unfamiliar with the story.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Holy Grail War, the words themselves carry a kind of magic. A weight which triggers the imagination, a grip, a yearning, a burning desire that holds sway throughout the ages. Conjuring images of the cup of Christ, a legendary Chalice said to carry the blessings of the Lord himself. The last and first vessel to truly hold his blood of Communion.
Were it genuine, the sheer weight of the belief in it would be staggering. The acts of Communion held worldwide for centuries alone would doubtless grant it the ability to grant any miracle to it's wielder.
And so, it is little wonder that there have been many imitations, each seeking to obtain even a fragment of the dream embodied by it's legend.
But to think that such a wondrous thing was treated as a mere bait. Truly, Magi are such feckless creatures.
The Heaven's Feel ritual, an attempt to imitate the Cup of Christ through sheer force of Mana, bringing together insane amounts of magical energy for the sake of creating a so-called Omnipotent Wish Granting device. To what ends? Who cares? The fact alone is that it exists, and so it therefore is to be used.
In the 1930's, as the world prepared to erupt in war, the Holy Grail was fought for in the Far East nation of Japan. But against all odds, in the chaos of the free for all, an army of mortal men lead by one of the rituals participants absconded with the prize, taking it back to Europe, before the magi turned on his collaborators. The Grail vanished, for nearly 80 years. And then reappeared, within the borders of Romania, in possession of the same man who had stolen the treasure in the first place. And who had, ironically, also spread knowledge of it's miracle.
Leading to sparking of imagination the world over, as an infinite number of False Grail Wars occurred, uncountable multitudes summoning forth ancient heroes and beings of legend to fight to the death.
A miracle all it's own, even if a misguided one.
But the time for the true Grail's re-emergence had come, and so with it at his back, the thief declared to the Moonlit World his intentions, and earned a swift reprisal.
One which was met with an even more swift defeat.
But even so, Magi are ever jealous, spiteful creatures. And in one man's last effort, he reached the Grail, and delivered the Clock Tower's declaration of War. Now to match the thieves in their place of power, an army of Red would come down to visit retribution upon the thief and his Black compatriots for their varied trespasses.
Who are you, in the Great Grail War to come?
[] The Unknown, cast to the shadows. In another time you were forced to the back stage. But here and now you shall stand on your own two feet and make your bid for the prize.
Last edited:
Character Sheet
It was always going to be a train wreck
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Character Sheet:
Name: Isaac HemostrusCharacter Sheet:
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7
Weight: 71kg
Blood Type: AB/Mercury
Element: Water, Metal
Sorcery Trait: Hemo Mercuria, Let my blood be as steel, and my body be as Silver
Two generations ago, the former head of the Hemostrus Clan embarked on an insane attempt to create an artificial Sorcery Trait to empower those of his bloodline in an attempt to seek status within the Mage's Association. Through powerful alchemy, he had obtained the ability to infuse extraordinarily rich ether-infused mercury into his body, creating blood that consisted of seventy percent quicksilver, and thirty percent plasma. While this was done in such a way as to enable his and his descendants to generate this metal as if it were normal blood and as such, were immune to the poisonous effects of it, what he had failed to take into account was the sheer strain of the body having to pump such a heavy metal in it. The strain manifested as a severely diminished lifespan for those of the Hemostrus Family, with the first two Heads wielding Hemo Mercuria only living about 40 years.
However, in exchange for diminished lifespans, those of the Hemostrus line have gained mastery of Mercury and other liquid metals, with the ability to manipulate them as easily as if they were a part of their own body. In addition to their ether-infused properties, their blood serves as an extraordinarily potent component in Formalcraft and as a material in the creation of Mystic Codes such as Golems that would otherwise use the metal as building material.
Mystics Eyes of Flow: C
A newly formed set of mystic eyes, the result of Isaac's father's research into methods to comprehend and maximize his family's new sorcery trait. By channeling mana through his eyes, Isaac is able to detect "flows" and grasp the vectors that make them up, with some effort, he is able to directly affect those vectors, guiding the flow of the object he's focusing on. At this rank, however, this effect is moderately powerful. Limited to mystical objects he already possesses some control over, high grade control over purely natural phenomenon, and the ability to affect the flow of artificially induced forces and magecraft.
Magecraft: E+
Relatively inexperienced, Isaac has spent his whole life up until now studying the applications of his Sorcery Trait and how to exploit it to it's maximum potential. As a result, he possesses a fine understanding of how to utilize Mercury, as well as how to take advantage of Hemo Mercuria's ether-infused properties. Within the past few years, he has refined this knowledge even further as a result of his training as a Junior Enforcer to be able to use his Sorcery Trait effectively in combat. As a result, he is able to use his blood to set up minor applications of Formalcraft as well as manipulate the mercury in his blood into creating metallic objects.
????: D+
A School of close range combat learned at the feet of his Master, it is currently nameless and incomplete due to his inadequacies as a close range fighter. Due to the acquisition of Achilles' Ascot mid-range combat and cloth fighting techniques are now available.
Current Mana:
100/???
Command Seals:
2/3
100/???
Command Seals:
2/3
Class: Rider
True Name: Achilles
Master: Isaac Hemostrus
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: A-
Mana: C
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: A
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: C
At this rank Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals.
Riding: A+
Creatures on the level of Phantasmal Beast and Divine Beast can be used as mounts. However, that does not apply to members of the Dragon Kind.
Personal Skills:
Battle Continuation: A
Makes possible to fight even with deadly injuries and can remain alive so long as one does not receive a decisive fatal wound.
Noble Phantasms:
Troias Tragōidia: Tempestuous Immortal Chariot
Rank: A
Type: Anti-Army
Rider's three-horsed chariot that is able to move through the sky. Summoned by whistling with two fingers in his mouth, it appears from the sky, controlled by reins on the driver's stand. It is drawn by three strong-muscled horses, two immortal divine horses bestowed by sea god Poseidon, Xanthos and Balius, and lesser than the other two, a "fine and famous" great horse pillaged from a city, Pedasos. It boasts extraordinary power, firmly charging and "riding like lightning", which is very difficult to stop. Using it, he tramples throughout the battlefield with godspeed, easily trampling one-ton golems and scraping up the ground simply from riding it, increasing in damage dealt proportionally to its increase in speed. It can be likened to a "giant galloping lawnmower" at its highest speed
Dromeus Komētēs: Comet Form
Rank: A+
Range: Anti-Unit (Self)
An ability of Achilles that is normally triggered by stepping out of his chariot, the embodiment of the legend that he is the fastest among all the heroes of all eras. Although his physical prowess is high, it is not an impossible standard for a Servant, but his speed greatly stands out, equated to instantaneous movement. It allows him to run through a giant battlefield in a single breath, and obstacles on the field will not slow him even as he charges through a dense forest. Its usage requires that his weak-point, the Achilles Heel, be exposed, but not many Heroic Spirits can keep up with his speed.
Andreias Amarantos: Amaranth of the Brave
Rank: B
Range: Anti-Unit (Self)
Achilles' gift of immortality from having been blessed and exalted by the Olympian Gods, protecting him from all ill will and killing intent. Although his mother, the goddess Thetis, had wanted to make him into a fully immortal god by warming him within holy flames to extinguish his human blood, her husband, Peleus, opposed it because it would "destroy him as a human", so only one part of him, his heel, remained human after he stopped the process midway. His heel is the sole, vital weak-point for the otherwise invincible hero, but he is not afraid to attack opponents with it should it be required. His immortality kept him from receiving any wounds in life until his weak-point was exposed during his fight with Hector, and later utilized by Paris to kill him under the guidance of Apollo. The act of having his heel hit negates his immortality, allowing for his heart to be pierced with numerous arrows as he made his last charge against the Trojan army in life.
Any type of attack against him is nullified, physical damage, the "normal attacks" of Servants, and even great Noble Phantasms like the A+ rank Balmung. It cannot be pierced by power alone, but rather only those who possess the blood of a god within their veins are permitted to harm him. It can only be negated by those with Divinity of a certain rank, at least C-rank, or higher, allowing those of that rank to harm him with any attack.
True Name: ???
Master: Kairi Sisigou
Alignment: ???
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: B
Mana: B
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: ???
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: B
Cancel spells with a chant below three verses. Even if targeted by High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals, it is difficult for him to be affected.
Riding: B
Most vehicles can be handled with above average skill. However, cannot ride the likes of Phantasm Races such as Monstrous Beasts.
Personal Skills
Prana Burst: ???
Class: Archer
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Stats:
Strength: [REDACTED]
Endurance: [REDACTED]
Agility: [REDACTED]
Mana: [REDACTED]
Luck: [REDACTED]
Noble Phantasm: ???
Class Skills:
Independent Action: A+
A rank reserved only for those whose will was considered indomitable by the world around them. Independent Action of this level makes the Master all but superfluous save in situations requiring the use of Noble Phantasms. Archer may exist for [REDACTED] in case his Master is terminated before his Servant Container is broken down by the World.
Personal Skills:
Information Gathering: A+ >>> B+
Due to [REDACTED] Archer qualifies for Information Gathering of the highest rank. As [REDACTED], he is able to access the Grail's store of information of the modern era for an unprecedented knowledge of the world around him. Deeply tied to his legend, being summoned in the Archer class, and thus [REDACTED] this ability suffers a rank down. Further details remain unknown at this time.
Information Erasure: C+ >>> B+
Also deeply tied to his legend, Archer was a Master of controlling information, recognizing it's true worth at all times. As such, he also understood the worth of [REDACTED]. In exchange for a Rank Down in Information Gathering due to being summoned in the Archer class, this skill gains a Rank Up from it's original value in life. At this rank, knowledge of Parameters is automatically erased from the Book of Masters, except when in battle. Additionally, all evidence of Archer's presence is automatically erased from recording devices, anything other than live scrying, and other attempts to observe Archer indirectly. This ability can also allow Archer to [REDACTED] at will, freely controlling the effects of this skill.
Class: Saber
True Name: ???
Master: ???
Alignment: ???
Strength: ???
Endurance: ???
Agility: ???
Mana: ???
Luck: ???
Noble Phantasm: ???
Tarnhelm: ???
Class: Assassin
True Name: Diomedes
Master: Aaron Gentles (?)
Alignment: True Neutral
Strength: D++ (B++)
Endurance: D (C)
Agility: D++ (B++)
Mana: E (D)
Luck: E (D)
Noble Phantasm:
The Cap of Hades, Unseen, even to the Gods
Rank: A+++
Range: Anti-Unit
As a result of the limitations of the Grail System, the full manifestation of Athena's affection for Diomedes can not be summoned. However, the greatest symbol of her assistance and blessing, the wearing of the Cap of Hades to render herself invisible as she guided Diomedes in his attack on Ares, the second God he wounded in a single day, a feat unrivaled by any except Herakles, who matched the number of immortals, even if not on the same day. As such, when summoned under the Assassin class, Athena's blessing manifests as the Cap of Hades, gifted to her chosen champion. When worn by an individual, they become truly invisible, and undetectable via magecraft. When combined with the Presence Concealment of the Assassin Class, the Servant becomes truly undetectable, obtaining the ability to perform guaranteed ambushes at will. Only Servants with high ranks in instinct, Revelation, or a skill or Noble Phantasm that explicitly prevents ambushes can prevent Assassin from getting in a guaranteed first strike.
This Noble Phantasm can be worn by an individual other than Assassin, and still convey it's effect of invisibility. His Presence Concealment will remain unaffected.
The Palladium, Cunning and Guile Unrivaled
Rank: A++
Range: Anti-World
Known singularly for his cunning, ability to improvise schemes, and was widely regarded by the Achaens for his cunning, subtlety, and ability to undertake dangerous tasks to perform the seemingly impossible, Diomedes is a man who moved the world around him to his will with constant success not by changing the fate of the world around him, but by identifying the flow of events and then taking advantage of them for his own benefit. Diomedes was not blessed by great luck or fortune, but even so, he understood the ways of Fate and the Gods, and so ruthlessly used them for his own ends to great success. This culminated in the theft of the Palladium, an event in which it was prophesied by a famous captured Trojan seer that so long as the Palladium, a great statue dedicated towards Athena, lay with Troy's walls, then it would not fall. Odysseus infiltrated the city disguised as a beggar, while Diomedes simply infiltrated the city of Troy by sneaking around it's defenses. Coming across it at last, the two slaughtered the priests and guards protecting it, before Diomedes carried the statue from the city. Incensed by the idea of losing credit for the capture to Diomedes, proud Odysseus attempted to murder his partner in crime and then claim the glory for the capture for himself.
Diomedes promptly vanquished Odysseus and marched him back to the Achaen camp with his arms bound while being pressed forward at the flat of his sword.
As the crystallization of Diomedes acts of cunning and guile, peerless in Greek epics, Assassin can, once per day, invoke the power of this Noble Phantasm. Once activated, Assassin can implement a single plan with a guaranteed success, however this ability has the following two limitations:
It can not be used to culminate in the death of a specific foe.
All steps must be thought through by Assassin in order to completely ensure success. The more specific and detailed the scheme, the powerful the effect of this Noble Phantasm will be, culminating in an effect surpassing even a Marble Phantasm, as Fate rewrites itself in order to accommodate Assassin's scheme.
Any individual who does not have a Luck rank exceeding this Noble Phantasm's rank can resist the effects of this Noble Phantasm affecting them directly by passing a Luck check. Failing to resist this Noble Phantasm results in the opponent operating in accordance with the whims of destiny, as dictated by Assassin.
Rank: A+++
Range: Anti-Unit
As a result of the limitations of the Grail System, the full manifestation of Athena's affection for Diomedes can not be summoned. However, the greatest symbol of her assistance and blessing, the wearing of the Cap of Hades to render herself invisible as she guided Diomedes in his attack on Ares, the second God he wounded in a single day, a feat unrivaled by any except Herakles, who matched the number of immortals, even if not on the same day. As such, when summoned under the Assassin class, Athena's blessing manifests as the Cap of Hades, gifted to her chosen champion. When worn by an individual, they become truly invisible, and undetectable via magecraft. When combined with the Presence Concealment of the Assassin Class, the Servant becomes truly undetectable, obtaining the ability to perform guaranteed ambushes at will. Only Servants with high ranks in instinct, Revelation, or a skill or Noble Phantasm that explicitly prevents ambushes can prevent Assassin from getting in a guaranteed first strike.
This Noble Phantasm can be worn by an individual other than Assassin, and still convey it's effect of invisibility. His Presence Concealment will remain unaffected.
The Palladium, Cunning and Guile Unrivaled
Rank: A++
Range: Anti-World
Known singularly for his cunning, ability to improvise schemes, and was widely regarded by the Achaens for his cunning, subtlety, and ability to undertake dangerous tasks to perform the seemingly impossible, Diomedes is a man who moved the world around him to his will with constant success not by changing the fate of the world around him, but by identifying the flow of events and then taking advantage of them for his own benefit. Diomedes was not blessed by great luck or fortune, but even so, he understood the ways of Fate and the Gods, and so ruthlessly used them for his own ends to great success. This culminated in the theft of the Palladium, an event in which it was prophesied by a famous captured Trojan seer that so long as the Palladium, a great statue dedicated towards Athena, lay with Troy's walls, then it would not fall. Odysseus infiltrated the city disguised as a beggar, while Diomedes simply infiltrated the city of Troy by sneaking around it's defenses. Coming across it at last, the two slaughtered the priests and guards protecting it, before Diomedes carried the statue from the city. Incensed by the idea of losing credit for the capture to Diomedes, proud Odysseus attempted to murder his partner in crime and then claim the glory for the capture for himself.
Diomedes promptly vanquished Odysseus and marched him back to the Achaen camp with his arms bound while being pressed forward at the flat of his sword.
As the crystallization of Diomedes acts of cunning and guile, peerless in Greek epics, Assassin can, once per day, invoke the power of this Noble Phantasm. Once activated, Assassin can implement a single plan with a guaranteed success, however this ability has the following two limitations:
It can not be used to culminate in the death of a specific foe.
All steps must be thought through by Assassin in order to completely ensure success. The more specific and detailed the scheme, the powerful the effect of this Noble Phantasm will be, culminating in an effect surpassing even a Marble Phantasm, as Fate rewrites itself in order to accommodate Assassin's scheme.
Any individual who does not have a Luck rank exceeding this Noble Phantasm's rank can resist the effects of this Noble Phantasm affecting them directly by passing a Luck check. Failing to resist this Noble Phantasm results in the opponent operating in accordance with the whims of destiny, as dictated by Assassin.
Strength: ???
Endurance: ???
Agility: ???
Mana: ???
Luck: ???
Noble Phantasm: ???
Magecraft: Necromancy
Command Seals: 3/3
Prana: ???/???
Sorcery Trait: ???
Mystic Code: ???
Wish: ???
Magecraft: Runecraft, Earth Element
Command Seals: 2/3
Prana: ???/???
Magic Crest: ???
Mystic Code: ???
Wish: ???
Magecraft: Scriptures, Improvised Weaponry
Command Seals: 1/3
Prana: ???/???
Scripture: Sixth
Mystic Code: Old Hickory
Wish: ???
Last edited:
Giving Form to the Formless
*sighs*
I hate triple posting
Vote tally:
##### 3.21
[X] The Boy, ensnared by Fate. Recent events have been too chaotic for you to comprehend, and with each passing day you feel more and more lost.
No. of votes: 4
Baroque, BlackHadou, Divider, Namer
[X] The Unknown, cast to the shadows. In another time you were forced to the back stage. But here and now you shall stand on your own two feet and make your bid for the prize.
No. of votes: 8
Bondo, veekie, AZATHOTHoth, Hadiz, D.D. Spectator, wingstrike96, Kairae, notmi
[X] The Knight, eager to test their blade. The times have provided you with an opportunity you rarely had in life. Your hearts beats heavily in anticipation of the battles to come.
No. of votes: 1
Mortifer
[x] The Ruler, invigorated by recent events. You gaze upon your renewed holdings and feel your chest swell with a sense of pride. And hope.
No. of votes: 1
Nanimani
Votes are locked!
Looks like you've all gone for the mystery box!
Choose from one of the following:
[] You stride forth through life, an unsung artist. The hideous reality around you is shapeless, malformed, defective. For too long have you dreamed of this day, when your hands would finally be able to mold the world around you. Shaping it in your image. But first. Winning this silly little game. (Magus-Female)
[] You've lived a long time, gathering many things. Like dust upon a generator. You remember the time shortly after Draenic returned from that backwater nation alive, his plundered prize safely sequestered away. You can't say you've spent your time as...productively as the other man, but you've built up quite the charge regardless. After all, lightning needs no great trappings. It need only strike. (Magus-Male)
[] Write-In
@Mortifer @BlackHadou @Nanimani
you guys can use your rewards up here by asking for information on the templates, or you can save them for use when it comes time for the next phase of Chargen.
With regards to the Write-In, I require this format:
[] Name
[] Image
[] Type of Magecraft
-[] Some backstory would be appreciated as well, otherwise I'll invent it wholecloth
--[] One particular feature, be it Sorcery Trait, Origin, or a Mystic Code which you think suits them. You only get one, and I retain the right to veto or heavily nerf anything I feel needs to be.
Votes should be either wholesale or just by voting for the person who came up with the character.
I hate triple posting
Vote tally:
##### 3.21
[X] The Boy, ensnared by Fate. Recent events have been too chaotic for you to comprehend, and with each passing day you feel more and more lost.
No. of votes: 4
Baroque, BlackHadou, Divider, Namer
[X] The Unknown, cast to the shadows. In another time you were forced to the back stage. But here and now you shall stand on your own two feet and make your bid for the prize.
No. of votes: 8
Bondo, veekie, AZATHOTHoth, Hadiz, D.D. Spectator, wingstrike96, Kairae, notmi
[X] The Knight, eager to test their blade. The times have provided you with an opportunity you rarely had in life. Your hearts beats heavily in anticipation of the battles to come.
No. of votes: 1
Mortifer
[x] The Ruler, invigorated by recent events. You gaze upon your renewed holdings and feel your chest swell with a sense of pride. And hope.
No. of votes: 1
Nanimani
Votes are locked!
Looks like you've all gone for the mystery box!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Choose from one of the following:
[] You stride forth through life, an unsung artist. The hideous reality around you is shapeless, malformed, defective. For too long have you dreamed of this day, when your hands would finally be able to mold the world around you. Shaping it in your image. But first. Winning this silly little game. (Magus-Female)
[] You've lived a long time, gathering many things. Like dust upon a generator. You remember the time shortly after Draenic returned from that backwater nation alive, his plundered prize safely sequestered away. You can't say you've spent your time as...productively as the other man, but you've built up quite the charge regardless. After all, lightning needs no great trappings. It need only strike. (Magus-Male)
[] Write-In
@Mortifer @BlackHadou @Nanimani
you guys can use your rewards up here by asking for information on the templates, or you can save them for use when it comes time for the next phase of Chargen.
With regards to the Write-In, I require this format:
[] Name
[] Image
[] Type of Magecraft
-[] Some backstory would be appreciated as well, otherwise I'll invent it wholecloth
--[] One particular feature, be it Sorcery Trait, Origin, or a Mystic Code which you think suits them. You only get one, and I retain the right to veto or heavily nerf anything I feel needs to be.
Votes should be either wholesale or just by voting for the person who came up with the character.
Introductions
[X] Isaac Hemostrus
You stride forward carefully, each step measured as you pace down long halls wrought in stone. Old furnishing and ostentatious trappings fill your vision. Most of the decorations you pass probably predate your great-grandfather. You hold back a snort at the understatement.
You are Isaac Hemostrus, a relatively young magi. One of experience and power, in spite of your young age. At a mere nineteen years of age here you were, a junior Enforcer, being summoned by the Head of the Summoning department for some kind of secret mission at their behest. There would be some who could call you a genius.
Sad that you have yet to meet any, though.
But still. This man, Belfaban, would doubtless be your ticket to greater connections and work down the line. Once this task of his was completed, Heads of Departments generally made use of those who had proved successful for them in the past. And now matter how high you went up in the Clock Tower's hierarchy, there would always be ambition to spare, and those who saw a use for those who were useful.
Yes, the future was definitely looking bright. Forge connections now. And then in the future…
You arrive at the Department Head's office, a large slab of oak, finely polished, serves as the last obstacle to your meeting with the man. As you gather your thoughts and wits you:
[] Take a step back to think on the past
[] Draw your gaze towards the craftmanship of the door
[] Briefly consider what you have to gain from this mission
Your mind in order, you take a deep breath before opening the door to the office.
"Hello, Isaac Hemostrus reporting."
You see no need to knock, if the man hadn't been expecting you than you would have never been able to open that door so easily. You glance through the room, taking in the haphazard nature of the room. Dusty scrolls litter the floor, with a piece of aged parchment lying atop a red desk that seemed to absolutely scream Mahogany. You continue looking as there is no reply to your announcement, and you spot a few jars of animals preserved in dusty jars, their still forms casting wavering shadows in the candle light. Another shadow is cast over one as you inspect it, a snake with multiple heads, and you suddenly turn to the source. And see an aged man who's aged features have caused him to have an appearance similar to his desk. A statuesque quality found only in finely carved wood.
"I am Rocco Belfaban, Head of the Department of Summoning and the one who requested your assistance, Hemostrus." The elderly man inclined his head at you, before gesturing to a velvet sofa tucked near the desk, surrounded by stacks of tomes. You take a seat, and the man moves behind his relatively clean desk. Belfaban watches you the entire time, finally relaxing in his seat, his gaze wary.
"I understand that for someone in your position, time is quite valuable. So I shall make this is as quick as possible for you." You nod at the man wordlessly, smothering a grimace before it even gets the chance to form, "What do you know of the Fuyuki Grail War?"
"Not…much," You reply, your tone hesitant as you attempt to remember what you've heard. You know *of* the Grail Wars, of course. They had been popping up rather often as of late, and you have often been part of teams assigned to the cleanup of the aftermath of those Fake Grail Wars. "Only in the frame of reference that it was the origin of the numerous imitations."
Belfaban snorts, his tone curiously disappointed, "Then you need not worry overmuch." The man gives you a critical once-over, and you feel your suspicions rise, "The Fuyuki Grail Wars, more specifically, the Greater Grail that was created by the Einzbern, Tohsaka, and Matou, was not created for the sake of making an omnipotent Wish Granting device. Rather, it's purpose was to create a hole to the swirl of the origin."
"…You mean, the Root?" You ask, in spite of yourself.
The older man nods, "The very same. The original Fuyuki Grail Wars, which summoned the full Seven Servants, was meant for that very task. These false Grail Wars you are already familiar with are incapable of reproducing that miracle, given their inherent limitations, so naturally you would be unfamiliar with this." The old man stood up, grasping a roll of parchment from a stack behind him, "The Fuyuki Grail was stolen at the end of it's third war, and then presumably lost. However now, almost a century later, we have learned of it's location." He turns back to you, "Would you like to guess who came to us with this information, young Hemostrus?"
"…I haven't got-" You begin, before the door behind you swings open, and a tall man, his face twisted into a scowl even as he carried himself with the energy of youth.
"It was the Eight-forked tongue," The man said by way of introduction, before turning back towards Belfaban, "Sorry if I'm interrupting."
"Not at all, Lord El-Melloi," The old man turned away from the newest participant in the conversation, even as the newcomers scowl apparently deepened with renewed irritation, "Yes, the one who found it was Yggdmillenium." The man paused, a smirk pushing back the wrinkles on his face, "Although it would be more accurate to say he had stolen it in the first place."
You found yourself blinking as the conversation suddenly went way out of your depth. You had heard of Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia, of course, but only in passing. The high level politics of the Clock Tower had been something you and your father had actively avoided taking part in, simply due to a lack of-
"I'm assuming you understand why, young Hemostrus?" The old man asked, turning an inquisitive stare towards you.
"I'm guessing as some kind of leverage to negotiate for something he wants?" It must be quite big, if he's revealing the existence of something on the level of a possible path to Akasha.
"Not quite." Lord El-Melloi replies, his gaze never turning from Belfaban, who's own expression had turned much, much darker.
"Darnic has declared the Yggdmillenia's secession from the Mage's Association."
"…But," You reply, your voice hesitant, "That's suicide."
The younger Lord nodded in agreement, "That would normally be the case. And so, we sent a force of fifty combat magi in an expression of our displeasure."
The older man nodded, scowling "Only one survived." He places the parchment on the table, before prodding it as a column of light lifted from it, revealing an image of a single man bound to a chair.
You feel panic for a moment, "You sent…fifty Enforcers?" Such a number was a staggering amount of the Clock Tower's designated hunters. To have lost them all…
"What?" El-Melloi sputters, staring at you incredulously, "No! Why would we send our Enforcers to take care of something like this?!"
"Yes." Belfaban replies, his tone grave, "That kind of thing is what 'Hunters' are for." He turns back towards the display as you struggle to hide the relief on your face, "Even so, a force of fifty combat magi being wiped out is no mean feat." He turned back towards you, "Ordinarily."
You gasp as realization hits you, "A Servant."
"Correct." He gestures towards the figure, sound finally coming across as he does so.
"Is that the survivor?" You ask, taking in the man's haggard, scarred appearance and dazed, empty eyes.
"Yes, he was in this condition when we found him." Belfaban answers, his tone clinical, "We've already performed surgery to heal the man. He'll likely be recovered in six months or so."
"What's he saying?" You ask.
The older man snorted, "Try listening, boy."
You pause, focusing a small amount as you run a trickle of od through your ears, performing basic reinforcement to assist your hearing until you can finally pick up the sound of the man's voice.
"We of the Yggdmillennia have freed ourselves from the petty political bickerings of the Association of Magi and aim to establish a new association here in Romania, a true place of inquiry for the pursuits of thaumaturgy. For we possess the 726th Holy Grail, and when it is brought to life with the souls of seven Heroic Spirits, we shall be one step closer on the path to brilliant glory..."
"Doesn't he say anything else?" You ask.
"Nope." Lord El-Melloi replies casually, holding a cigar out over a lit candle as Belfaban shoots a severe look towards him.
"So as you can see," The older man continues, "The Yggdmillenia have embarked on a fool's errand, relying on the power provided by an omnipotent wish granted device to try and supplement their lack of power in the Mage's Association."
You pause, catching yourself wondering if Darnic also intended for his new association would also feature Blackjack and Hookers, but don't say it aloud, although you turn your gaze towards Lord El-Melloi, who catches your eye and smirks in amusement. It seems you've found a kindred spirit, then.
"So what do you wish for me to do?" You ask, hesitantly, "I don't exactly consider myself capable of fighting a Heroic Spirit on my own."
"Of course not," Belfaban waves his hand airily, "You'll be participating as a Master, of course."
You show a look of confusion, "You would send me alone into the Yggdmillenia clan's place of power with just one Servant as backup while facing off against possibly six others?"
Belfaban simply stares at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowed, before he shakes his head, "You needn't worry about such details. Although the assault team was all but wiped out, the last survivor managed to approach the Greater Grail system by the end, and happened to trigger a fail safe embedded into the system by the Three Families." He nodded towards Lord El-Melloi, as the he then turned and began looking for something amid the chaos of his office.
"It appears that the Founding Families had foreseen the possibility of the Seven Masters aligning and thus keeping the Grail from fulfilling it's true purpose. As such, a fail safe existed within the system to allow for the distribution of an additional set of Command Seals, up to Seven, as well as the summoning of an additional Seven Servants. Divided into factions…"
"The second faction would eliminate the first faction, and thus ensure that the Grail's purpose was fulfilled, correct?" You finish, as the conversation finally heads towards familiar territory.
The man nods, "Your mission is to go to Trifas, summon a Servant and become a Master, and then work with the rest of your faction to eliminate the Yggmillenia and acquire the Greater Grail."
You turn towards the Lord, your attention wholly focused upon him, "And…what happens when we win?" You reply, suddenly finding your mouth incredibly dry, the words barely escaping your lips with a rasping sound.
A loud thudding sound shakes you out of your stunned state, "We shall leave that to your discretion, young Hemostrus. Surely someone in your position can find a use for a single unlimited wish, correct?" Belfabas says, having dropped a large ebony briefcase onto his desk.
The words strike closer to home than you would like to admit, but you turn to old man, your gaze focused on the briefcase in front of you. But, even as your mind reels from the possibilities, you remember one more thing that had been mentioned.
"And the other Masters in my faction…?" You barely get out, and Belfabas smirks.
"All but one other have already been sent on their way to Romania, we are waiting on one more potential Master aside from yourself." You nod, waiting for the Department Head to continue. He obliges, "Currently in Trisfas are four magi from the Clock Tower. Leila Archambault, Tiki Balaur, Moira Dubshláine, and Feed von Senbern, a First Class Instructor." You honestly don't recognize any of those names.
The younger Lord must have noticed your lack of recognition, since he adds, "Ordinarily we would have put more of a focus on combat oriented magi, but one of the selected Masters made a couple of suggestions of her own, insisting upon them as a prerequisite for her own participation." You pause and focus on the information you've been given, the sheer weight of the opportunity you've been given pressuring you. The risk would doubtless be great, and you were uncertain of how you would be able to secure the wish for yourself. However…
"I accept, naturally." You say after a long moment. Playing it safe until a ripe old age was not an option. Never had been. And never would be. But you pause, recalling one last detail, "You said that all the other Masters save myself and one other were already in Trisfas. But you only named four Masters. Who is the fifth?"
Belfabas shrugs, rolling up the parchment that had projected the image of the captured magi, "A representative from the Church who is also acting as the overseer for this war. It goes without saying that they would not remain quiet over the subject of something bearing the name of the Holy Grail. And better that they work with us than the Yggdmillenia, I say."
"Who did they send?" You ask, and this time it is Lord El-Melloi who answers.
"I just received word from the other Masters about that, actually." He pauses, taking a deep drag from his cigar, "They say that it's a member of the Burial Agency. Number Four." Belfaban's eyes narrow dangerously, and you feel a cold sweat form on your brow. As confident as you are in your own combat skills, the Church's Burial Agency were their best of the best in terms of killing.
"How reassuring," You reply, schooling your features, "The Yggdmillenia will never know what happened to them."
The two older men turn towards you, and begin laughing uproariously, "Well said!" Belfabas says in between guffaws, "A good attitude. When you return with the mission, I'll have you promoted to full Enforcer, along with allowing you to keep any spoils you manage to procure during this Great Holy Grail War."
You nod, "Thank you, sir." You gesture towards the briefcase, your gaze finally falling to the ebony box, "And that is?"
The old man's features return to a sort of rigid solemnity, "It is the catalyst we have prepared for you, of course. This shall be what enables you to summon your heroic spirit, and take your place as a Master of the Red Faction." He reaches over, opening the case, revealing a soft, velvet interior.
Looking within it, you find….
Choose One:
[] A silver shard, clearly broken off a larger work, it's edges are supernaturally sharp and it exudes a bloodthirsty aura that stops you cold. In spite of the pure sheen of the metal, the original must have been tainted by a powerful curse.
[] A piece of old, tarnished bronze. Bereft of beauty, it still carries the weight of age and power.
[] Pieces of steel plate, cunningly worked together to form layers. It is unremarkable, but even then you can sense the echo of power in it.
[] A long wooden brush, the hairs on the end miraculously intact even after uncounted ages.
[] A piece of dull, weathered steel. Incredibly old, but even now you can still sense the bloodlust clinging to it.
[] A piece of tattered red cloth, overwhelming you with the scent of unbridled strength.
You stride forward carefully, each step measured as you pace down long halls wrought in stone. Old furnishing and ostentatious trappings fill your vision. Most of the decorations you pass probably predate your great-grandfather. You hold back a snort at the understatement.
You are Isaac Hemostrus, a relatively young magi. One of experience and power, in spite of your young age. At a mere nineteen years of age here you were, a junior Enforcer, being summoned by the Head of the Summoning department for some kind of secret mission at their behest. There would be some who could call you a genius.
Sad that you have yet to meet any, though.
But still. This man, Belfaban, would doubtless be your ticket to greater connections and work down the line. Once this task of his was completed, Heads of Departments generally made use of those who had proved successful for them in the past. And now matter how high you went up in the Clock Tower's hierarchy, there would always be ambition to spare, and those who saw a use for those who were useful.
Yes, the future was definitely looking bright. Forge connections now. And then in the future…
You arrive at the Department Head's office, a large slab of oak, finely polished, serves as the last obstacle to your meeting with the man. As you gather your thoughts and wits you:
[] Take a step back to think on the past
[] Draw your gaze towards the craftmanship of the door
[] Briefly consider what you have to gain from this mission
Your mind in order, you take a deep breath before opening the door to the office.
"Hello, Isaac Hemostrus reporting."
You see no need to knock, if the man hadn't been expecting you than you would have never been able to open that door so easily. You glance through the room, taking in the haphazard nature of the room. Dusty scrolls litter the floor, with a piece of aged parchment lying atop a red desk that seemed to absolutely scream Mahogany. You continue looking as there is no reply to your announcement, and you spot a few jars of animals preserved in dusty jars, their still forms casting wavering shadows in the candle light. Another shadow is cast over one as you inspect it, a snake with multiple heads, and you suddenly turn to the source. And see an aged man who's aged features have caused him to have an appearance similar to his desk. A statuesque quality found only in finely carved wood.
"I am Rocco Belfaban, Head of the Department of Summoning and the one who requested your assistance, Hemostrus." The elderly man inclined his head at you, before gesturing to a velvet sofa tucked near the desk, surrounded by stacks of tomes. You take a seat, and the man moves behind his relatively clean desk. Belfaban watches you the entire time, finally relaxing in his seat, his gaze wary.
"I understand that for someone in your position, time is quite valuable. So I shall make this is as quick as possible for you." You nod at the man wordlessly, smothering a grimace before it even gets the chance to form, "What do you know of the Fuyuki Grail War?"
"Not…much," You reply, your tone hesitant as you attempt to remember what you've heard. You know *of* the Grail Wars, of course. They had been popping up rather often as of late, and you have often been part of teams assigned to the cleanup of the aftermath of those Fake Grail Wars. "Only in the frame of reference that it was the origin of the numerous imitations."
Belfaban snorts, his tone curiously disappointed, "Then you need not worry overmuch." The man gives you a critical once-over, and you feel your suspicions rise, "The Fuyuki Grail Wars, more specifically, the Greater Grail that was created by the Einzbern, Tohsaka, and Matou, was not created for the sake of making an omnipotent Wish Granting device. Rather, it's purpose was to create a hole to the swirl of the origin."
"…You mean, the Root?" You ask, in spite of yourself.
The older man nods, "The very same. The original Fuyuki Grail Wars, which summoned the full Seven Servants, was meant for that very task. These false Grail Wars you are already familiar with are incapable of reproducing that miracle, given their inherent limitations, so naturally you would be unfamiliar with this." The old man stood up, grasping a roll of parchment from a stack behind him, "The Fuyuki Grail was stolen at the end of it's third war, and then presumably lost. However now, almost a century later, we have learned of it's location." He turns back to you, "Would you like to guess who came to us with this information, young Hemostrus?"
"…I haven't got-" You begin, before the door behind you swings open, and a tall man, his face twisted into a scowl even as he carried himself with the energy of youth.
"It was the Eight-forked tongue," The man said by way of introduction, before turning back towards Belfaban, "Sorry if I'm interrupting."
"Not at all, Lord El-Melloi," The old man turned away from the newest participant in the conversation, even as the newcomers scowl apparently deepened with renewed irritation, "Yes, the one who found it was Yggdmillenium." The man paused, a smirk pushing back the wrinkles on his face, "Although it would be more accurate to say he had stolen it in the first place."
You found yourself blinking as the conversation suddenly went way out of your depth. You had heard of Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia, of course, but only in passing. The high level politics of the Clock Tower had been something you and your father had actively avoided taking part in, simply due to a lack of-
"I'm assuming you understand why, young Hemostrus?" The old man asked, turning an inquisitive stare towards you.
"I'm guessing as some kind of leverage to negotiate for something he wants?" It must be quite big, if he's revealing the existence of something on the level of a possible path to Akasha.
"Not quite." Lord El-Melloi replies, his gaze never turning from Belfaban, who's own expression had turned much, much darker.
"Darnic has declared the Yggdmillenia's secession from the Mage's Association."
"…But," You reply, your voice hesitant, "That's suicide."
The younger Lord nodded in agreement, "That would normally be the case. And so, we sent a force of fifty combat magi in an expression of our displeasure."
The older man nodded, scowling "Only one survived." He places the parchment on the table, before prodding it as a column of light lifted from it, revealing an image of a single man bound to a chair.
You feel panic for a moment, "You sent…fifty Enforcers?" Such a number was a staggering amount of the Clock Tower's designated hunters. To have lost them all…
"What?" El-Melloi sputters, staring at you incredulously, "No! Why would we send our Enforcers to take care of something like this?!"
"Yes." Belfaban replies, his tone grave, "That kind of thing is what 'Hunters' are for." He turns back towards the display as you struggle to hide the relief on your face, "Even so, a force of fifty combat magi being wiped out is no mean feat." He turned back towards you, "Ordinarily."
You gasp as realization hits you, "A Servant."
"Correct." He gestures towards the figure, sound finally coming across as he does so.
"Is that the survivor?" You ask, taking in the man's haggard, scarred appearance and dazed, empty eyes.
"Yes, he was in this condition when we found him." Belfaban answers, his tone clinical, "We've already performed surgery to heal the man. He'll likely be recovered in six months or so."
"What's he saying?" You ask.
The older man snorted, "Try listening, boy."
You pause, focusing a small amount as you run a trickle of od through your ears, performing basic reinforcement to assist your hearing until you can finally pick up the sound of the man's voice.
"We of the Yggdmillennia have freed ourselves from the petty political bickerings of the Association of Magi and aim to establish a new association here in Romania, a true place of inquiry for the pursuits of thaumaturgy. For we possess the 726th Holy Grail, and when it is brought to life with the souls of seven Heroic Spirits, we shall be one step closer on the path to brilliant glory..."
"Doesn't he say anything else?" You ask.
"Nope." Lord El-Melloi replies casually, holding a cigar out over a lit candle as Belfaban shoots a severe look towards him.
"So as you can see," The older man continues, "The Yggdmillenia have embarked on a fool's errand, relying on the power provided by an omnipotent wish granted device to try and supplement their lack of power in the Mage's Association."
You pause, catching yourself wondering if Darnic also intended for his new association would also feature Blackjack and Hookers, but don't say it aloud, although you turn your gaze towards Lord El-Melloi, who catches your eye and smirks in amusement. It seems you've found a kindred spirit, then.
"So what do you wish for me to do?" You ask, hesitantly, "I don't exactly consider myself capable of fighting a Heroic Spirit on my own."
"Of course not," Belfaban waves his hand airily, "You'll be participating as a Master, of course."
You show a look of confusion, "You would send me alone into the Yggdmillenia clan's place of power with just one Servant as backup while facing off against possibly six others?"
Belfaban simply stares at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowed, before he shakes his head, "You needn't worry about such details. Although the assault team was all but wiped out, the last survivor managed to approach the Greater Grail system by the end, and happened to trigger a fail safe embedded into the system by the Three Families." He nodded towards Lord El-Melloi, as the he then turned and began looking for something amid the chaos of his office.
"It appears that the Founding Families had foreseen the possibility of the Seven Masters aligning and thus keeping the Grail from fulfilling it's true purpose. As such, a fail safe existed within the system to allow for the distribution of an additional set of Command Seals, up to Seven, as well as the summoning of an additional Seven Servants. Divided into factions…"
"The second faction would eliminate the first faction, and thus ensure that the Grail's purpose was fulfilled, correct?" You finish, as the conversation finally heads towards familiar territory.
The man nods, "Your mission is to go to Trifas, summon a Servant and become a Master, and then work with the rest of your faction to eliminate the Yggmillenia and acquire the Greater Grail."
You turn towards the Lord, your attention wholly focused upon him, "And…what happens when we win?" You reply, suddenly finding your mouth incredibly dry, the words barely escaping your lips with a rasping sound.
A loud thudding sound shakes you out of your stunned state, "We shall leave that to your discretion, young Hemostrus. Surely someone in your position can find a use for a single unlimited wish, correct?" Belfabas says, having dropped a large ebony briefcase onto his desk.
The words strike closer to home than you would like to admit, but you turn to old man, your gaze focused on the briefcase in front of you. But, even as your mind reels from the possibilities, you remember one more thing that had been mentioned.
"And the other Masters in my faction…?" You barely get out, and Belfabas smirks.
"All but one other have already been sent on their way to Romania, we are waiting on one more potential Master aside from yourself." You nod, waiting for the Department Head to continue. He obliges, "Currently in Trisfas are four magi from the Clock Tower. Leila Archambault, Tiki Balaur, Moira Dubshláine, and Feed von Senbern, a First Class Instructor." You honestly don't recognize any of those names.
The younger Lord must have noticed your lack of recognition, since he adds, "Ordinarily we would have put more of a focus on combat oriented magi, but one of the selected Masters made a couple of suggestions of her own, insisting upon them as a prerequisite for her own participation." You pause and focus on the information you've been given, the sheer weight of the opportunity you've been given pressuring you. The risk would doubtless be great, and you were uncertain of how you would be able to secure the wish for yourself. However…
"I accept, naturally." You say after a long moment. Playing it safe until a ripe old age was not an option. Never had been. And never would be. But you pause, recalling one last detail, "You said that all the other Masters save myself and one other were already in Trisfas. But you only named four Masters. Who is the fifth?"
Belfabas shrugs, rolling up the parchment that had projected the image of the captured magi, "A representative from the Church who is also acting as the overseer for this war. It goes without saying that they would not remain quiet over the subject of something bearing the name of the Holy Grail. And better that they work with us than the Yggdmillenia, I say."
"Who did they send?" You ask, and this time it is Lord El-Melloi who answers.
"I just received word from the other Masters about that, actually." He pauses, taking a deep drag from his cigar, "They say that it's a member of the Burial Agency. Number Four." Belfaban's eyes narrow dangerously, and you feel a cold sweat form on your brow. As confident as you are in your own combat skills, the Church's Burial Agency were their best of the best in terms of killing.
"How reassuring," You reply, schooling your features, "The Yggdmillenia will never know what happened to them."
The two older men turn towards you, and begin laughing uproariously, "Well said!" Belfabas says in between guffaws, "A good attitude. When you return with the mission, I'll have you promoted to full Enforcer, along with allowing you to keep any spoils you manage to procure during this Great Holy Grail War."
You nod, "Thank you, sir." You gesture towards the briefcase, your gaze finally falling to the ebony box, "And that is?"
The old man's features return to a sort of rigid solemnity, "It is the catalyst we have prepared for you, of course. This shall be what enables you to summon your heroic spirit, and take your place as a Master of the Red Faction." He reaches over, opening the case, revealing a soft, velvet interior.
Looking within it, you find….
——————————————————————————————
Choose One:
[] A silver shard, clearly broken off a larger work, it's edges are supernaturally sharp and it exudes a bloodthirsty aura that stops you cold. In spite of the pure sheen of the metal, the original must have been tainted by a powerful curse.
[] A piece of old, tarnished bronze. Bereft of beauty, it still carries the weight of age and power.
[] Pieces of steel plate, cunningly worked together to form layers. It is unremarkable, but even then you can sense the echo of power in it.
[] A long wooden brush, the hairs on the end miraculously intact even after uncounted ages.
[] A piece of dull, weathered steel. Incredibly old, but even now you can still sense the bloodlust clinging to it.
[] A piece of tattered red cloth, overwhelming you with the scent of unbridled strength.
Preparations
[X] Draw your gaze towards the craftmanship of the door
[X] A piece of old, tarnished bronze. Bereft of beauty, it still carries the weight of age and power.
You gaze at the catalyst for a moment, your eyes drawn towards the object before the case is shut with a soft click.
"You don't need to worry about the particulars, Hemostrus." Lord El-Melloi mutters, "I can guarantee the excellence of the Servant that this catalyst will help you summon." With a long draw on his cigar, he reaches into the depths of his vest, withdrawing a folder.
"Some reading material for your flight. It should give you enough information to go on by the time you land in Romania." With those parting words, he turns and exits the office.
"Well now," Belfaban mutters, lifting the briefcase up and walking to your side, "He seems to be rather tense about all this. No matter." He hands the container carrying the catalyst towards you, "I believe that's everything, young Hemostrus. Good hunting."
[] Thank you, Master Belfaban
[] Not quite…(Write-In)
Your business concluded, you bow your head and leave the room, folder and briefcase clutched tightly to your chest as your mind races at the possibilities presented by this latest twist of fate. A single omnipotent wish, no, not even that, even if you manage to merely obtain the patronage of a Lord and Department Head, the doors that would open for you!
Head held high, you turn to leave. But first thing's first.
[] You forgot something, go back into the office
[] Gather your equipment in preparation for the journey ahead
[] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
It would be a long journey towards Romania, but Lord El-Melloi had been thoughtful enough to charter you a flight, and so the journey would be made in relative peace. How do you spend your flight?
[] Studying the information you've been given
[] Enjoying a brief rest before everything goes to hell.
And now that you've landed, you can feel the tension in the air as you look down, a dull pain throbbing in your left hand as a set of red seals imprint themselves upon you. The sign of your selection as a Master of the Red Faction. Now then, first thing's first:
[] Summon your Servant
[] Report to the rest of Red Faction.
[X] A piece of old, tarnished bronze. Bereft of beauty, it still carries the weight of age and power.
You gaze at the catalyst for a moment, your eyes drawn towards the object before the case is shut with a soft click.
"You don't need to worry about the particulars, Hemostrus." Lord El-Melloi mutters, "I can guarantee the excellence of the Servant that this catalyst will help you summon." With a long draw on his cigar, he reaches into the depths of his vest, withdrawing a folder.
"Some reading material for your flight. It should give you enough information to go on by the time you land in Romania." With those parting words, he turns and exits the office.
"Well now," Belfaban mutters, lifting the briefcase up and walking to your side, "He seems to be rather tense about all this. No matter." He hands the container carrying the catalyst towards you, "I believe that's everything, young Hemostrus. Good hunting."
[] Thank you, Master Belfaban
[] Not quite…(Write-In)
Your business concluded, you bow your head and leave the room, folder and briefcase clutched tightly to your chest as your mind races at the possibilities presented by this latest twist of fate. A single omnipotent wish, no, not even that, even if you manage to merely obtain the patronage of a Lord and Department Head, the doors that would open for you!
Head held high, you turn to leave. But first thing's first.
[] You forgot something, go back into the office
[] Gather your equipment in preparation for the journey ahead
[] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
It would be a long journey towards Romania, but Lord El-Melloi had been thoughtful enough to charter you a flight, and so the journey would be made in relative peace. How do you spend your flight?
[] Studying the information you've been given
[] Enjoying a brief rest before everything goes to hell.
And now that you've landed, you can feel the tension in the air as you look down, a dull pain throbbing in your left hand as a set of red seals imprint themselves upon you. The sign of your selection as a Master of the Red Faction. Now then, first thing's first:
[] Summon your Servant
[] Report to the rest of Red Faction.
Opening
[X] Thank you, Master Belfaban
[X] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
You take a deep breath, your heavy blood pulsing almost audibly through your body as you exit Belfaban's office, the heavy oak door sliding into place behind. A step later a brief chill runs down your spine, as you realize what you had just agreed to. A fight to the death. A battle between monsters who had carved their names into history itself. Achieving immortality, not just metaphorically, but metaphysically as well. Accomplishing deeds so great that the world itself had elected to remove their very souls from the cycle of reincarnation for the sake of holding them in austerity.
You look down, grasping the ebony briefcase you had been given. It contained a piece of tarnished bronze, almost assuredly linked to a Greek hero of some sort. Perhaps it was Leonidas? You should have made sure to ask. But it made little difference now. You hardly doubted that an insult of the magnitude that the Yggdmillenia had delivered unto the Mage's Association would warrant anything less than the highest handed response possible. The tool of retribution would hardly be some low class spirit. And then it hits you once again, that you would be fighting alongside this hero, summoned as a Servant, in order to wage war as a Master of the Red. You turn back towards the wooden portal behind you, gazing intently at the spirals and whorls adorning it, your eyes picking up on the faint channels of mana that flowed through it, flowing like the eddies of the world's smallest river delta. Streams that poured into carvings, filling them up, and fueling a number of unknown functions. You could only marvel at it.
Who would think that a mere door would be used as such a pointlessly complicated Mystic Code? And to have the resources to obtain such a thing in the first place. You snorted. Buying a copy of this door for your own use would probably require a sum you're unlikely to earn in your lifetime. Even after you obtained the Grail.
If you obtained it.
You suppress that thought. Ruthlessly.
[X] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
You look into the folder that the Lord El-Melloi had handed you, and a number of names pop up, courtesy of the Clock Tower's own resources, and in it are listed potential Masters within the Clan. Unfortunately, aside from the obvious inclusion of Darnic and his heir-apparent Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, there were simply too few First Rate Magi to completely fill out the seven spots that would make up their Black Faction in this war. And the number of Second Rates was simply far too vast to even attempt to reasonably narrow down.
You would need advice, an expert's opinion, so to speak.
You knew just the person.
"They selected you as a Master?" Was the response of Bazett Fraga McRemitz, a look of shocked disbelief scrunching her features, "…Why?"
You really had no idea, and couldn't help but shrug. The girl in front of you, only a few years older than you, was your senior in the Enforcers, the person that had trained you in the art of "Avoiding crazy shit and getting a good punch in", and an unmatched genius in Runecraft due to her clan's Sorcery Trait, known as Tradition Holder. You had been amazed that you had been partnered with someone of her reputation when you had first joined up with the organization three years ago. Only to spend time in her immediate proximity and slowly watch as your expectations were ruined inch by agonizing inch over time.
She sighed, slowly lowering her face into her palm, and you were reminded of happier times. Times when you, in your youth, would often be "inspired" by flashes of "insight" with "good ideas" and would charge headfirst into solving a problem with your extremely powerful bloodline. It took you a great deal of time to figure out that the reason she would often do this was that the traps you would often set off on those occasions were the result of her trying to teach you how to react to traps and unorthodox attack methods.
The lessons stuck with you.
Eventually.
This was actually kind of nostalgic, really, and you grinned at her. She took that moment to look up at you in that odd manner of synchronization that the two of you had developed during your time working together, her narrowed eyes sending daggers at you in an almost futile attempt to convey her exasperation at you. She sighed again, standing up straight, her face all business.
"It's not that I don't understand why they would want to send someone like you as a Master, but it's not like the Association is limited to only one representative." She gestured at herself, "What I don't get is why send someone like you and not send someone like me as well." She looked off towards the wall searchingly, as if contemplating punching the answers out of it. You briefly considered the possibility that it would actually work, all things being considered.
"I don't get it either, Ba-" She turns that oddly contemplative look over towards you, "-Master. But they said that there was one member of the team that requested some of us specifically as a condition of their participation."
She nods seriously, "That probably explains it. Who're you working with again?"
"Leila Archambault, Tiki Balaur, Moira Dubshláine, and Feed von Senbern."
"It's probably Balaur," Bazett says almost absently, her hand in her chin, "She's supposed to be some kind of eccentric monster comparable to the Barthomelois. But…" She pauses, looking at you again, "That still doesn't explain why you specifically."
"It's a mystery, I guess." You say, shrugging half-heartedly.
"Maaaaaaaaaan! I really want to go instead! The Fuyuki Grail is supposed to be on a whole other level than all those other Fake Grails!" With a sheepish look, she kicks at the ground, glaring at it childishly. You swear you see the carpet beneath your feet recoil under her gaze. I might've even been able to summon him, too…
"Sorry, Master."
She looks at you with a pout, "Well…Whatever, it can't be helped." The childishness disappears as the Enforcer resurfaces, "Let me take a look at what they gave you on the Yggdmillenia. I might be able to cover some things they missed." You nod, handing the folder over to her, she wastes no time with scanning it's pages.
"Darnic, Fiore, Caules…" She mutters, "I can't imagine Little Caules leaving her alone…Alright." She says, holding the pages open, "Who else do think might be a Master?"
"Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia sounds like an obvious choice, he's one of the few First Rates they have aside from Fiore and Darnic." You reply instantly.
"Good." Bazett nods seriously, "That just leaves…Roche…Or…Celenike…or…Oh." Her face pales.
"Who is it?" You ask, her expression setting off very serious mental alarms.
She pauses, pointing out a picture of a particular Second Rate that you had overlooked. If Belfaban had a face so aged as to be carved of wood, then this man's image could only be described as to be wood having grown into the shape of a man, his face like oaken bark, a deep rich brown that split into valleys and crags seemingly at random beneath an absurd top of curly blond hair.
"His name…Is Aaron Gentles." Bazett says, her voice carrying a slight edge, "Yggdmillenia."
"Who?"
The folder snaps shut loudly, "A Second Rate, former Enforcer. He retired from the front lines shortly before you joined us, probably because of an offer from the Yggmillenia."
You couldn't help but stare at her, "Why would they care about a single Enforcer? And why would a decaying family like that be attractive to a combat magus like him?"
Bazett shakes her head, "It's not that simple. Gentles was a senior to me when I first joined, and we were paired up because…Well…" She paused, looking hard into the distance, "The man was a Second Rate. Without a Family Crest. Do you understand what this means, Isaac Hemostrus? An Enforcer with no bloodline, no history?"
It dawns on you, "He must have been ridiculous."
Your Master nods seriously, "That man did things with Runes I've never seen before or since, and those of my family's bloodline know how to use Runecraft instinctively." She pauses, staring at you, "Even worse, is that he was a traditional Magus, through and through." She stares off into the distance, eyes narrowed with worry, "He and Alba were supposed to get along amazingly before he left, too…" She turns back to you, "Look.
"I want you to understand this. So beat it into your head, okay?" You nod, "If you run into that guy, get away. Send your Servant after him. If you see any out of place Formalcraft anywhere, then you make sure to run like hell. If you see any weird graffiti, then you do whatever you can to get away from it." She walks up to you, shoving the folder hard into your chest, "Do you understand me." It wasn't a question, the woman's eyes were hard as stone, her flinty gaze locked on to you and sending a primal fear through your body the likes of which you haven't felt since you made the mistake of teasing her about her luck with money.
"I understand, Master."
She nods, apparently satisfied, "Good." And her gaze softens, lines of worry crossing her features, "Don't die, foolish disciple." She turns around, and marches away stiffly.
After a long moment, you finally reply in a quiet voice, "I will return. Master."
She had long since vanished from your sight.
[X] Studying the information you've been given
Included within your dossier on the Yggdmillenia was a single plane ticket to Bucharest, capital of Romania. It would leave the next morning, and so rather than go back home and restock on your supplies, you decided to trust in your blood, your eyes, and your magecraft, and relied on your Master for advice on the upcoming conflict. Although that had hardly been wasted, you think idly. You had narrowed down the prospective Masters significantly with her help, especially with the revelation of just how dangerous that Aaron Gentles had been. Much more likely to be a Master than that Sagara Hyouma. Still, you thought to yourself as you boarded the plane, that didn't mean you had the full measure of the rest of your competition. You pulled out the folder from your bag even as you shoved into into an overhead compartment, content to relax in Economy (why so cheap?) as you took a look at the relevant information.
Millenium Castle, the headquarters of the Yggdmillenia, was an ancient stronghold that was centuries old, even surviving the wars that had ravaged the area over it's history. Even before the Yggdmillenia Clan had taken it over as Magi, it was well known as an impenetrable stronghold, and had been a defensive bulwark when the Ottoman's had attempted to invade the land belonging to the Impaling Prince. You frowned as the implications became obvious. There was simply no way that Vlad III would not be summoned, if not by your Red Faction, then almost assuredly by the Black. Well.
At least that's one Servant identified.
Belfaban had insisted that the other Masters were already in Trisfas, and you distinctly recall Lord El-Melloi rolling his eyes at that statement, and now you understood why. Marked with a large red circle was the city Sighisoara with a caption saying "GO HERE!!!" that was underlined three times, and a smaller note with an address to a certain Church. You shrugged in your seat, poring over the map of the Bucharest, which held sketches of the leylines that ran beneath the city. Well, you could decide where you would go later, but there was a particular spot in a forest near an abandoned textile factory that caught your eye…
You turned back towards the profiles, looking them up. First order of business was the leader of the Yggdmillenia, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia. A man who had not aged since the Third Grail War due to an unknown Magecraft of longevity, you found details surrounding his magecraft sparse, as expected. A great deal of detail was spared outlining the number of families which claimed ownership of his remains and crest should they be recovered by the end of the war for past grievances.
You were halfway through France by the time you finished reading that list.
Next was the heir apparent, Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, a prodigy with defective magic circuits that rendered her unable to use her legs. You had little doubt she was dangerous as well. Just as you held little doubt that she had some way to compensate for her handicap in mind. It was…kind of obvious, really. You shrugged mentally, flipping to the next candidate, Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia, heir of a Clan that had essentially existed as a group that cribbed Alchemy techniques from the Einzberns. A rare First Rate from a decaying line, Gordes was a noted Homunculus Creator, and likely knew how to utilize the Einzberns traditional Wishcraft as well. You supposed that you may as well get used to the idea of attacking albinos on sight when your plane landed.
Next was Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillenia, a First Rate user of Witchcraft, and noted to have exceptional skill in curses. There were rumors that she was willing to curse anyone, for a price, and that her Witchcraft relied rather specifically on the slaughter and sacrifice of human lives, rather than animals as was the norm to your knowledge.
After that was Fiore's younger brother, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillenia. Not even Third Rate, you doubted a Master such as he would be able to summon forth a particularly powerful Servant, but your Master had insisted that Caules would assist his sister at all costs, and so you frowned at the complete lack of information on him as a Master. Shrugging, you next went to the second to last expected Master, the Golem Prodigy, Roche Frain Yggdmillenia. He possessed exceptional talent in the construction of Golems, and so there was little doubt in your mind that you would have to deal with fighting the constructs once you arrived. It wasn't something you worried about, since during your training you had been informed that Mercury was a very common stabilizing agent in such things, and as such you would be able to handle such creations most easily.
You hoped that you would face him first on the battlefield, rather than encountering the last likely candidate, Aaron Gentles Yggdmillenia. You scanned over the information, noting nothing that your Master had not yet already said, before setting the dossiers to the side, your gaze drifting over the map of Trisfas. There was almost no way that the Black Faction did not control the city in it's entirety, but you would still need to fight there. And so you took the time to begin memorizing your battlefield. It was some time later that your plane landed, and you set off for your next destination.
[X] Summon your Servant
It took you until after sunset had passed, but eventually you made it to the abandoned textile factory outside of Bucharest. You cast out your senses, attempting to synchronize your blood with it's fellows, and you detected the resonance of Mercury filling the area beneath the ground. Within moments, gallons of the silvery liquid pool at your feet, before gouging trenches into the soft earth below, filling the elongated holes with their metallic mass. Eventually the shape of your summoning circle was ready, lined with your lifeblood.
You wait for the moon to begin it's ascension, checking the time on your watch, feeling a gentle breeze caress you as the minutes go ticking by, your Magecraft reaching it's daily peak. Letting a feel of power flow through you, culminating in a pressure on the back of your left hand as the sound of water chimes ringing gently begins to fill your hearing. It's time. You take a deep breath as you step into your circle, lowering the bronze scrap metal into the center of your summoning array.
You step back out, and then begin.
You pause, gritting your teeth as an almost physical force seems to tug on your blood, the mercury comprising the circle beginning to boil ominously, and you hear the rustling of wings.
A blinding light fills your vision, and a thick steam billows forth, obscuring everything within your vision. You cover your eyes as the heavy cloud presses against your body, and begin to blink slowly as the painful illumination begins to subside.
"Yo!" A youthful voice calls out, the shape of a human gradually forming even within the thick fog in front of you, "I suppose that you're supposed to be my Master?"
You nod, holding up your right hand as your Command Seals glow with a bright intensity. You feel the tug of the Servant-Master link form, and the beginnings of a foreign sense of satisfaction.
"Well, my beloved Master…" The figure ahead of you swings an arm up, dissipating the fog instantly, "You can consider this War as good as won." You hear the amused, arrogant tone of the man before you see it on his expression, "As you'll never find another Servant more powerful than I…"
You finally take a good look at the man in front of you, the stature of a well-muscled youth, filled with confidence and power, his lean face possessing a kind of surreal handsomeness that makes you feel frankly slightly inadequate, and the man looks at you for the first time. Beneath his wild blond hair lies an equally wild pair of eyes, the eyes of an arrogant beast, staring at you as if you were merely prey waiting to be eaten by a true predator.
"Rider of Red."
And then an invisible force seemed to wrap around his waist, lifting him up into the air, and then somehow managing to smash his head face first into the ground beneath him.
Choose One:
[] Assist Rider!
-[] With your Magecraft!
-[] Use your Mystic Eyes!
-[] How? (Write-In)
[] Run!
-[] Where to?
-[] How?
[] By the Power of my Command Seal
-[] Kill Yourself
-[] Something else (Write-In)
[] (Write-In)
[X] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
You take a deep breath, your heavy blood pulsing almost audibly through your body as you exit Belfaban's office, the heavy oak door sliding into place behind. A step later a brief chill runs down your spine, as you realize what you had just agreed to. A fight to the death. A battle between monsters who had carved their names into history itself. Achieving immortality, not just metaphorically, but metaphysically as well. Accomplishing deeds so great that the world itself had elected to remove their very souls from the cycle of reincarnation for the sake of holding them in austerity.
You look down, grasping the ebony briefcase you had been given. It contained a piece of tarnished bronze, almost assuredly linked to a Greek hero of some sort. Perhaps it was Leonidas? You should have made sure to ask. But it made little difference now. You hardly doubted that an insult of the magnitude that the Yggdmillenia had delivered unto the Mage's Association would warrant anything less than the highest handed response possible. The tool of retribution would hardly be some low class spirit. And then it hits you once again, that you would be fighting alongside this hero, summoned as a Servant, in order to wage war as a Master of the Red. You turn back towards the wooden portal behind you, gazing intently at the spirals and whorls adorning it, your eyes picking up on the faint channels of mana that flowed through it, flowing like the eddies of the world's smallest river delta. Streams that poured into carvings, filling them up, and fueling a number of unknown functions. You could only marvel at it.
Who would think that a mere door would be used as such a pointlessly complicated Mystic Code? And to have the resources to obtain such a thing in the first place. You snorted. Buying a copy of this door for your own use would probably require a sum you're unlikely to earn in your lifetime. Even after you obtained the Grail.
If you obtained it.
You suppress that thought. Ruthlessly.
[X] Use your contacts to get more details on what's covered in your files
You look into the folder that the Lord El-Melloi had handed you, and a number of names pop up, courtesy of the Clock Tower's own resources, and in it are listed potential Masters within the Clan. Unfortunately, aside from the obvious inclusion of Darnic and his heir-apparent Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, there were simply too few First Rate Magi to completely fill out the seven spots that would make up their Black Faction in this war. And the number of Second Rates was simply far too vast to even attempt to reasonably narrow down.
You would need advice, an expert's opinion, so to speak.
You knew just the person.
"They selected you as a Master?" Was the response of Bazett Fraga McRemitz, a look of shocked disbelief scrunching her features, "…Why?"
You really had no idea, and couldn't help but shrug. The girl in front of you, only a few years older than you, was your senior in the Enforcers, the person that had trained you in the art of "Avoiding crazy shit and getting a good punch in", and an unmatched genius in Runecraft due to her clan's Sorcery Trait, known as Tradition Holder. You had been amazed that you had been partnered with someone of her reputation when you had first joined up with the organization three years ago. Only to spend time in her immediate proximity and slowly watch as your expectations were ruined inch by agonizing inch over time.
She sighed, slowly lowering her face into her palm, and you were reminded of happier times. Times when you, in your youth, would often be "inspired" by flashes of "insight" with "good ideas" and would charge headfirst into solving a problem with your extremely powerful bloodline. It took you a great deal of time to figure out that the reason she would often do this was that the traps you would often set off on those occasions were the result of her trying to teach you how to react to traps and unorthodox attack methods.
The lessons stuck with you.
Eventually.
This was actually kind of nostalgic, really, and you grinned at her. She took that moment to look up at you in that odd manner of synchronization that the two of you had developed during your time working together, her narrowed eyes sending daggers at you in an almost futile attempt to convey her exasperation at you. She sighed again, standing up straight, her face all business.
"It's not that I don't understand why they would want to send someone like you as a Master, but it's not like the Association is limited to only one representative." She gestured at herself, "What I don't get is why send someone like you and not send someone like me as well." She looked off towards the wall searchingly, as if contemplating punching the answers out of it. You briefly considered the possibility that it would actually work, all things being considered.
"I don't get it either, Ba-" She turns that oddly contemplative look over towards you, "-Master. But they said that there was one member of the team that requested some of us specifically as a condition of their participation."
She nods seriously, "That probably explains it. Who're you working with again?"
"Leila Archambault, Tiki Balaur, Moira Dubshláine, and Feed von Senbern."
"It's probably Balaur," Bazett says almost absently, her hand in her chin, "She's supposed to be some kind of eccentric monster comparable to the Barthomelois. But…" She pauses, looking at you again, "That still doesn't explain why you specifically."
"It's a mystery, I guess." You say, shrugging half-heartedly.
"Maaaaaaaaaan! I really want to go instead! The Fuyuki Grail is supposed to be on a whole other level than all those other Fake Grails!" With a sheepish look, she kicks at the ground, glaring at it childishly. You swear you see the carpet beneath your feet recoil under her gaze. I might've even been able to summon him, too…
"Sorry, Master."
She looks at you with a pout, "Well…Whatever, it can't be helped." The childishness disappears as the Enforcer resurfaces, "Let me take a look at what they gave you on the Yggdmillenia. I might be able to cover some things they missed." You nod, handing the folder over to her, she wastes no time with scanning it's pages.
"Darnic, Fiore, Caules…" She mutters, "I can't imagine Little Caules leaving her alone…Alright." She says, holding the pages open, "Who else do think might be a Master?"
"Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia sounds like an obvious choice, he's one of the few First Rates they have aside from Fiore and Darnic." You reply instantly.
"Good." Bazett nods seriously, "That just leaves…Roche…Or…Celenike…or…Oh." Her face pales.
"Who is it?" You ask, her expression setting off very serious mental alarms.
She pauses, pointing out a picture of a particular Second Rate that you had overlooked. If Belfaban had a face so aged as to be carved of wood, then this man's image could only be described as to be wood having grown into the shape of a man, his face like oaken bark, a deep rich brown that split into valleys and crags seemingly at random beneath an absurd top of curly blond hair.
"His name…Is Aaron Gentles." Bazett says, her voice carrying a slight edge, "Yggdmillenia."
"Who?"
The folder snaps shut loudly, "A Second Rate, former Enforcer. He retired from the front lines shortly before you joined us, probably because of an offer from the Yggmillenia."
You couldn't help but stare at her, "Why would they care about a single Enforcer? And why would a decaying family like that be attractive to a combat magus like him?"
Bazett shakes her head, "It's not that simple. Gentles was a senior to me when I first joined, and we were paired up because…Well…" She paused, looking hard into the distance, "The man was a Second Rate. Without a Family Crest. Do you understand what this means, Isaac Hemostrus? An Enforcer with no bloodline, no history?"
It dawns on you, "He must have been ridiculous."
Your Master nods seriously, "That man did things with Runes I've never seen before or since, and those of my family's bloodline know how to use Runecraft instinctively." She pauses, staring at you, "Even worse, is that he was a traditional Magus, through and through." She stares off into the distance, eyes narrowed with worry, "He and Alba were supposed to get along amazingly before he left, too…" She turns back to you, "Look.
"I want you to understand this. So beat it into your head, okay?" You nod, "If you run into that guy, get away. Send your Servant after him. If you see any out of place Formalcraft anywhere, then you make sure to run like hell. If you see any weird graffiti, then you do whatever you can to get away from it." She walks up to you, shoving the folder hard into your chest, "Do you understand me." It wasn't a question, the woman's eyes were hard as stone, her flinty gaze locked on to you and sending a primal fear through your body the likes of which you haven't felt since you made the mistake of teasing her about her luck with money.
"I understand, Master."
She nods, apparently satisfied, "Good." And her gaze softens, lines of worry crossing her features, "Don't die, foolish disciple." She turns around, and marches away stiffly.
After a long moment, you finally reply in a quiet voice, "I will return. Master."
She had long since vanished from your sight.
[X] Studying the information you've been given
Included within your dossier on the Yggdmillenia was a single plane ticket to Bucharest, capital of Romania. It would leave the next morning, and so rather than go back home and restock on your supplies, you decided to trust in your blood, your eyes, and your magecraft, and relied on your Master for advice on the upcoming conflict. Although that had hardly been wasted, you think idly. You had narrowed down the prospective Masters significantly with her help, especially with the revelation of just how dangerous that Aaron Gentles had been. Much more likely to be a Master than that Sagara Hyouma. Still, you thought to yourself as you boarded the plane, that didn't mean you had the full measure of the rest of your competition. You pulled out the folder from your bag even as you shoved into into an overhead compartment, content to relax in Economy (why so cheap?) as you took a look at the relevant information.
Millenium Castle, the headquarters of the Yggdmillenia, was an ancient stronghold that was centuries old, even surviving the wars that had ravaged the area over it's history. Even before the Yggdmillenia Clan had taken it over as Magi, it was well known as an impenetrable stronghold, and had been a defensive bulwark when the Ottoman's had attempted to invade the land belonging to the Impaling Prince. You frowned as the implications became obvious. There was simply no way that Vlad III would not be summoned, if not by your Red Faction, then almost assuredly by the Black. Well.
At least that's one Servant identified.
Belfaban had insisted that the other Masters were already in Trisfas, and you distinctly recall Lord El-Melloi rolling his eyes at that statement, and now you understood why. Marked with a large red circle was the city Sighisoara with a caption saying "GO HERE!!!" that was underlined three times, and a smaller note with an address to a certain Church. You shrugged in your seat, poring over the map of the Bucharest, which held sketches of the leylines that ran beneath the city. Well, you could decide where you would go later, but there was a particular spot in a forest near an abandoned textile factory that caught your eye…
You turned back towards the profiles, looking them up. First order of business was the leader of the Yggdmillenia, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia. A man who had not aged since the Third Grail War due to an unknown Magecraft of longevity, you found details surrounding his magecraft sparse, as expected. A great deal of detail was spared outlining the number of families which claimed ownership of his remains and crest should they be recovered by the end of the war for past grievances.
You were halfway through France by the time you finished reading that list.
Next was the heir apparent, Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, a prodigy with defective magic circuits that rendered her unable to use her legs. You had little doubt she was dangerous as well. Just as you held little doubt that she had some way to compensate for her handicap in mind. It was…kind of obvious, really. You shrugged mentally, flipping to the next candidate, Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia, heir of a Clan that had essentially existed as a group that cribbed Alchemy techniques from the Einzberns. A rare First Rate from a decaying line, Gordes was a noted Homunculus Creator, and likely knew how to utilize the Einzberns traditional Wishcraft as well. You supposed that you may as well get used to the idea of attacking albinos on sight when your plane landed.
Next was Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillenia, a First Rate user of Witchcraft, and noted to have exceptional skill in curses. There were rumors that she was willing to curse anyone, for a price, and that her Witchcraft relied rather specifically on the slaughter and sacrifice of human lives, rather than animals as was the norm to your knowledge.
After that was Fiore's younger brother, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillenia. Not even Third Rate, you doubted a Master such as he would be able to summon forth a particularly powerful Servant, but your Master had insisted that Caules would assist his sister at all costs, and so you frowned at the complete lack of information on him as a Master. Shrugging, you next went to the second to last expected Master, the Golem Prodigy, Roche Frain Yggdmillenia. He possessed exceptional talent in the construction of Golems, and so there was little doubt in your mind that you would have to deal with fighting the constructs once you arrived. It wasn't something you worried about, since during your training you had been informed that Mercury was a very common stabilizing agent in such things, and as such you would be able to handle such creations most easily.
You hoped that you would face him first on the battlefield, rather than encountering the last likely candidate, Aaron Gentles Yggdmillenia. You scanned over the information, noting nothing that your Master had not yet already said, before setting the dossiers to the side, your gaze drifting over the map of Trisfas. There was almost no way that the Black Faction did not control the city in it's entirety, but you would still need to fight there. And so you took the time to begin memorizing your battlefield. It was some time later that your plane landed, and you set off for your next destination.
[X] Summon your Servant
It took you until after sunset had passed, but eventually you made it to the abandoned textile factory outside of Bucharest. You cast out your senses, attempting to synchronize your blood with it's fellows, and you detected the resonance of Mercury filling the area beneath the ground. Within moments, gallons of the silvery liquid pool at your feet, before gouging trenches into the soft earth below, filling the elongated holes with their metallic mass. Eventually the shape of your summoning circle was ready, lined with your lifeblood.
You wait for the moon to begin it's ascension, checking the time on your watch, feeling a gentle breeze caress you as the minutes go ticking by, your Magecraft reaching it's daily peak. Letting a feel of power flow through you, culminating in a pressure on the back of your left hand as the sound of water chimes ringing gently begins to fill your hearing. It's time. You take a deep breath as you step into your circle, lowering the bronze scrap metal into the center of your summoning array.
You step back out, and then begin.
"Let Quicksilver and steel be the essence.
Let water and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let red be the color I pay tribute to.
Raise forth a barrier against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."
Let water and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let red be the color I pay tribute to.
Raise forth a barrier against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."
You pause, gritting your teeth as an almost physical force seems to tug on your blood, the mercury comprising the circle beginning to boil ominously, and you hear the rustling of wings.
"Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again. Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling."
Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.
An oath shall be sworn here.
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have rule over all the evils within Hell.
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"
Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.
An oath shall be sworn here.
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have rule over all the evils within Hell.
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"
A blinding light fills your vision, and a thick steam billows forth, obscuring everything within your vision. You cover your eyes as the heavy cloud presses against your body, and begin to blink slowly as the painful illumination begins to subside.
"Yo!" A youthful voice calls out, the shape of a human gradually forming even within the thick fog in front of you, "I suppose that you're supposed to be my Master?"
You nod, holding up your right hand as your Command Seals glow with a bright intensity. You feel the tug of the Servant-Master link form, and the beginnings of a foreign sense of satisfaction.
"Well, my beloved Master…" The figure ahead of you swings an arm up, dissipating the fog instantly, "You can consider this War as good as won." You hear the amused, arrogant tone of the man before you see it on his expression, "As you'll never find another Servant more powerful than I…"
You finally take a good look at the man in front of you, the stature of a well-muscled youth, filled with confidence and power, his lean face possessing a kind of surreal handsomeness that makes you feel frankly slightly inadequate, and the man looks at you for the first time. Beneath his wild blond hair lies an equally wild pair of eyes, the eyes of an arrogant beast, staring at you as if you were merely prey waiting to be eaten by a true predator.
"Rider of Red."
And then an invisible force seemed to wrap around his waist, lifting him up into the air, and then somehow managing to smash his head face first into the ground beneath him.
Choose One:
[] Assist Rider!
-[] With your Magecraft!
-[] Use your Mystic Eyes!
-[] How? (Write-In)
[] Run!
-[] Where to?
-[] How?
[] By the Power of my Command Seal
-[] Kill Yourself
-[] Something else (Write-In)
[] (Write-In)
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Starting Shot
[X] Assist Rider!
-[X] With your Magecraft!
You stared in shock at the sudden attack on Rider, who had mere moments before confidently declared his inevitable victory before being lifted and then slammed into the dirt as if he had been suplexed by some kind of invisible assailant.
…Wait.
"Rider! It might be an enemy Servant!" You shout at the top of your lungs, extending your senses as you reassert your control over the mercury in the area.
A green scarf flutters in a light breeze as the blond Servant remains planted in the ground, before he pushes against the earth and frees himself. He lifts himself up, turning to level golden eyes at you in an incredulous stare.
"How…observant of you, Master." Rider mutters, dusting himself off, "Although I'm not sure how that wound up being so damaging to me. Magecraft of that level can't possibly harm me."
You blink, before remembering to focus a bit of mana into your eyes, activating your Master Vision.
"Do you think it might have been something else?" You ask uncertainly, it didn't seem plausible that someone would perform an Greater Ritual just to slam a newly summoned Servant's face into the dirt.
Rider shakes his head in negation, "Not unless they possessed a high rank in Divinity, Master." In spite of himself, the taller man smirks, staring off at something into the distance.
Before a noticeable dent is made into the side of his face, the impact of which sends your Servant hurtling backwards into the abandoned textile plant. Your senses soar in a panic, the mercury around you beginning to swirl ominously in an orbit as you attempt to locate the source of those invisible attacks. You focus, turning the quicksilver into thin threads as they attempt to seek out the body of your unseen assailant.
A light clapping sound shakes you as you try to identify it's origin.
"Your reactions aren't bad, Magus." A mocking voice echoes from all around you, "It almost seems a shame that you had to be partnered with this particular Heroic Spirit, but I hope you'll forgive my transgressions. This is a war. And I am bound to remove the enemies strongest pieces by the necessities of conflict."
You attempt to shut out the man's voice, focusing instead on the abundant Quicksilver around you, controlling it as an extension of your own body and gathering it beneath you as the gossamer threads of mercury continue swirling through the air in an attempt to pinpoint your assailant. You hear the crunching sound of feet marching upon the granular earth beneath you, even as you fail to see any footprints form, but you already know where the enemy Servant is going. The Mercury forming beneath you obeys your will, and gathers in the space between the spot where Rider had fallen and the concentric orbits of your Quicksilver threads.
"Don't think," You groan, the sound of chimes filling your eardrums, your few magic circuits burning with the strain of commanding the metal around you, infusing it with mana, "That a sucker punch means you've already won!" You grit your teeth as a wave of silver explodes from the ground before the abandoned factory, descending upon the area in a great shining sheet, splashing viscously against the ground and painting all within it's area of effect with a metallic coating.
Your eyes scan the area in a panic, knowing for sure that there was no way you would escape retribution for that stunt, and you spot a shining humanoid shape, turning towards you in a relaxed manner, with no distinguishing features to his shape other than an apparent wide brimmed hat that was weighed down by the mercury you had splashed upon it.
"Is that it?" The voice from before asks, a note of curiosity making itself known even as the invisible Servant says it, "Painting a target on me?"
"It's enough." Rider says, swinging a spear at the formerly invisible Servant, who promptly dodges, but not before tossing a round object towards your partner.
"Not quite." The quicksilver covered man replies, as his loosed projectile lands on Rider's scarf with a loud splat.
Your Servant stares at the object contemptuously, before raising a hand to brush it off, "You would use the peddler tricks of modern technology against Heroic Spirits, Assassin?! Don't insult me!"
The face of the enemy Servant warps in an approximation of a smile, "You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Rider of Red." And he levels a finger at the soaring object, a series of strings becoming apparent from it, pulling taut, and then slack, as a number of pins reveal their presence at the end of them, dragged out by the force of Rider's strike. Your Servant's head turns, dumbfounded, to his scarf, where at least a dozen modern fragmentation grenades are revealed to be cunningly hidden within the folds of the fabric of his green scarf.
Rider's eyes widen as you summon your quicksilver.
"This won't hurt me!" He roars in challenge, even as your Mercury gathers upon the cloth, attempting to pull it from him.
"Your Master seems to have the right idea, you know." The enemy Servant says in that smug tone of his, a hand brushing his shoulder in a pantomime of what Rider had done himself not even a moment earlier.
Rider's face morphs into a twisted snarl, one hand grabbing the piece of cloth and holding it tightly in place even as you struggle to remove it.
"THIS! WON'T! HURT ME!" Your Servant roars, even as you give up on engaging a Heroic Spirit in a contest of strength, and flood as much Mercury into surrounding the grenades as possible before they detonate.
When they do explode in a flash of light, you can barely see Rider being blasted through the ground in front of him, digging a trench with the force of his impact, even as a metal-coated foot rests it's heel upon the back of his head, forcing it deeper into the dirt.
"I'm not sure which stung more," The enemy Servant says, his tone mocking, "The wound to your body, or the wound to your pride." The Servant's heel grinds against Riders head, driving it further into the earth, "Would you be so kind as to let me know?"
What now?
[] Use your Magecraft to turn the tide
-[] How? (write-In)
[] Use your Mystic Eyes to gain an advantage
-[] How? (Write-In)
[] By the Power of my Command Seal…
-[] What? (Write-In)
[] Bail like a motherfucker
-[] And Rider? (Write-In)
[] Something Else (Write-In)
-[X] With your Magecraft!
You stared in shock at the sudden attack on Rider, who had mere moments before confidently declared his inevitable victory before being lifted and then slammed into the dirt as if he had been suplexed by some kind of invisible assailant.
…Wait.
"Rider! It might be an enemy Servant!" You shout at the top of your lungs, extending your senses as you reassert your control over the mercury in the area.
A green scarf flutters in a light breeze as the blond Servant remains planted in the ground, before he pushes against the earth and frees himself. He lifts himself up, turning to level golden eyes at you in an incredulous stare.
"How…observant of you, Master." Rider mutters, dusting himself off, "Although I'm not sure how that wound up being so damaging to me. Magecraft of that level can't possibly harm me."
You blink, before remembering to focus a bit of mana into your eyes, activating your Master Vision.
Class: Rider
True Name: ???
Master: Isaac Hemostrus
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: A-
Mana: C
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: ???
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: C
At this rank Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals.
True Name: ???
Master: Isaac Hemostrus
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: A-
Mana: C
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: ???
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: C
At this rank Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals.
"Do you think it might have been something else?" You ask uncertainly, it didn't seem plausible that someone would perform an Greater Ritual just to slam a newly summoned Servant's face into the dirt.
Rider shakes his head in negation, "Not unless they possessed a high rank in Divinity, Master." In spite of himself, the taller man smirks, staring off at something into the distance.
Before a noticeable dent is made into the side of his face, the impact of which sends your Servant hurtling backwards into the abandoned textile plant. Your senses soar in a panic, the mercury around you beginning to swirl ominously in an orbit as you attempt to locate the source of those invisible attacks. You focus, turning the quicksilver into thin threads as they attempt to seek out the body of your unseen assailant.
A light clapping sound shakes you as you try to identify it's origin.
"Your reactions aren't bad, Magus." A mocking voice echoes from all around you, "It almost seems a shame that you had to be partnered with this particular Heroic Spirit, but I hope you'll forgive my transgressions. This is a war. And I am bound to remove the enemies strongest pieces by the necessities of conflict."
You attempt to shut out the man's voice, focusing instead on the abundant Quicksilver around you, controlling it as an extension of your own body and gathering it beneath you as the gossamer threads of mercury continue swirling through the air in an attempt to pinpoint your assailant. You hear the crunching sound of feet marching upon the granular earth beneath you, even as you fail to see any footprints form, but you already know where the enemy Servant is going. The Mercury forming beneath you obeys your will, and gathers in the space between the spot where Rider had fallen and the concentric orbits of your Quicksilver threads.
"Don't think," You groan, the sound of chimes filling your eardrums, your few magic circuits burning with the strain of commanding the metal around you, infusing it with mana, "That a sucker punch means you've already won!" You grit your teeth as a wave of silver explodes from the ground before the abandoned factory, descending upon the area in a great shining sheet, splashing viscously against the ground and painting all within it's area of effect with a metallic coating.
Your eyes scan the area in a panic, knowing for sure that there was no way you would escape retribution for that stunt, and you spot a shining humanoid shape, turning towards you in a relaxed manner, with no distinguishing features to his shape other than an apparent wide brimmed hat that was weighed down by the mercury you had splashed upon it.
"Is that it?" The voice from before asks, a note of curiosity making itself known even as the invisible Servant says it, "Painting a target on me?"
"It's enough." Rider says, swinging a spear at the formerly invisible Servant, who promptly dodges, but not before tossing a round object towards your partner.
"Not quite." The quicksilver covered man replies, as his loosed projectile lands on Rider's scarf with a loud splat.
Your Servant stares at the object contemptuously, before raising a hand to brush it off, "You would use the peddler tricks of modern technology against Heroic Spirits, Assassin?! Don't insult me!"
The face of the enemy Servant warps in an approximation of a smile, "You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Rider of Red." And he levels a finger at the soaring object, a series of strings becoming apparent from it, pulling taut, and then slack, as a number of pins reveal their presence at the end of them, dragged out by the force of Rider's strike. Your Servant's head turns, dumbfounded, to his scarf, where at least a dozen modern fragmentation grenades are revealed to be cunningly hidden within the folds of the fabric of his green scarf.
Rider's eyes widen as you summon your quicksilver.
"This won't hurt me!" He roars in challenge, even as your Mercury gathers upon the cloth, attempting to pull it from him.
"Your Master seems to have the right idea, you know." The enemy Servant says in that smug tone of his, a hand brushing his shoulder in a pantomime of what Rider had done himself not even a moment earlier.
Rider's face morphs into a twisted snarl, one hand grabbing the piece of cloth and holding it tightly in place even as you struggle to remove it.
"THIS! WON'T! HURT ME!" Your Servant roars, even as you give up on engaging a Heroic Spirit in a contest of strength, and flood as much Mercury into surrounding the grenades as possible before they detonate.
When they do explode in a flash of light, you can barely see Rider being blasted through the ground in front of him, digging a trench with the force of his impact, even as a metal-coated foot rests it's heel upon the back of his head, forcing it deeper into the dirt.
"I'm not sure which stung more," The enemy Servant says, his tone mocking, "The wound to your body, or the wound to your pride." The Servant's heel grinds against Riders head, driving it further into the earth, "Would you be so kind as to let me know?"
What now?
[] Use your Magecraft to turn the tide
-[] How? (write-In)
[] Use your Mystic Eyes to gain an advantage
-[] How? (Write-In)
[] By the Power of my Command Seal…
-[] What? (Write-In)
[] Bail like a motherfucker
-[] And Rider? (Write-In)
[] Something Else (Write-In)
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Delayed Start
[X] Use your Magecraft to turn the tide.
--[X] Manipulate the mercury to form a solid blindfold around the enemy Servant's eyes. Let's see how he likes it when he can't see what he's fighting
---[X] Duck and roll as soon as you blind him. He's probably going to try and remove the Magecraft blinding him by carpet bombing the Magus who cast it, a.k.a you. If possible, use Magecraft to make some extra noise to cover the sound of you getting the Hell out of the way
You stare at Rider, face down in the dirt as the invisible man rests his feet upon his mop of spiky, blond hair.
"You know, I'm not quite a fan of how you wound up being spoken of in the same breath as Herakles. As Odysseus of all people. Spurning the Gods even as you abuse their gift unto you." Liquid silver drips onto the ground as the enemy Servant's head tilts downward, "It's almost funny, really." He raises his mercury covered hand outward, gripping at something that you can not see.
"Oh well." His arms reorient, both arms gripping into the air. Your eyes catch the flow of the air, bending slightly at a pole held in between the Servant's hands. An invisible spear? Halberd? You were uncertain, and your Master Vision was failing to be of any use in identifying it, "You were even more disappointing than I had feared you would be." Your skin prickles and rises in goosebumps as you feel a sudden rush of mana gathering at the space which the Servant gripped.
Wait.
You blink, starting suddenly, even as the invisible man's head tilts towards you, a feeling of killing intent unlike any you had seen before emanating from this look. Turning an expression you can't even see, but recognize anyway.
A smirk.
…Fuck that guy.
You quickly command the mercury covering the man's face and body, channeling it, concentrating it upon his eyes, his mouth, shutting him up and blinding him!
Thin bands of flowing silver constrict parts of the invisible man's face, abandoning their positions on the rest of his body, and you attempt to summon more quicksilver from your supply, when you hear a great cracking sound. Both of you look down, and see the sight of Rider gripping an unseen limb, his hand trembling with power and rage.
"Do not look down upon me!" Your Servant says, lifting the invisible leg up and knocking the enemy Servant off balance, turning a baleful glare at the mostly hidden opponent.
Before he does an about-face and proceeds to flee at incredible speeds towards the city.
Rider simply stares at the display, shock and fury warring across his features before, eventually, his face settles into a cold, neutral expression.
"You're not getting away."
You feel the tug of mana being drained from your circuits, and a shining white fills your vision even as your few circuits burn. In a panic, you dive off to the side, your head tucking down as you roll in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable explosion. Which never comes. When the light subsides, leaving you gasping, you behold a magnificent chariot, pulled by three mighty horses. Rider steps into it, grasping the reins and preparing to snap them. He does not even look in your direction.
What do you do?
[] Join Rider
-[] Get in the ChariotWaver Isaac
-[] Something else
[] Do not join Rider
-[] What do you do instead?
[] By the Power of my Command Seal
-[] Kill Yourself
-[] Stop Sucking
-[] Be Useful
-[] Kill That Thing
-[] Something else?
[] Write-In.
--[X] Manipulate the mercury to form a solid blindfold around the enemy Servant's eyes. Let's see how he likes it when he can't see what he's fighting
---[X] Duck and roll as soon as you blind him. He's probably going to try and remove the Magecraft blinding him by carpet bombing the Magus who cast it, a.k.a you. If possible, use Magecraft to make some extra noise to cover the sound of you getting the Hell out of the way
You stare at Rider, face down in the dirt as the invisible man rests his feet upon his mop of spiky, blond hair.
"You know, I'm not quite a fan of how you wound up being spoken of in the same breath as Herakles. As Odysseus of all people. Spurning the Gods even as you abuse their gift unto you." Liquid silver drips onto the ground as the enemy Servant's head tilts downward, "It's almost funny, really." He raises his mercury covered hand outward, gripping at something that you can not see.
"Oh well." His arms reorient, both arms gripping into the air. Your eyes catch the flow of the air, bending slightly at a pole held in between the Servant's hands. An invisible spear? Halberd? You were uncertain, and your Master Vision was failing to be of any use in identifying it, "You were even more disappointing than I had feared you would be." Your skin prickles and rises in goosebumps as you feel a sudden rush of mana gathering at the space which the Servant gripped.
Wait.
You blink, starting suddenly, even as the invisible man's head tilts towards you, a feeling of killing intent unlike any you had seen before emanating from this look. Turning an expression you can't even see, but recognize anyway.
A smirk.
…Fuck that guy.
You quickly command the mercury covering the man's face and body, channeling it, concentrating it upon his eyes, his mouth, shutting him up and blinding him!
Thin bands of flowing silver constrict parts of the invisible man's face, abandoning their positions on the rest of his body, and you attempt to summon more quicksilver from your supply, when you hear a great cracking sound. Both of you look down, and see the sight of Rider gripping an unseen limb, his hand trembling with power and rage.
"Do not look down upon me!" Your Servant says, lifting the invisible leg up and knocking the enemy Servant off balance, turning a baleful glare at the mostly hidden opponent.
Before he does an about-face and proceeds to flee at incredible speeds towards the city.
Rider simply stares at the display, shock and fury warring across his features before, eventually, his face settles into a cold, neutral expression.
"You're not getting away."
You feel the tug of mana being drained from your circuits, and a shining white fills your vision even as your few circuits burn. In a panic, you dive off to the side, your head tucking down as you roll in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable explosion. Which never comes. When the light subsides, leaving you gasping, you behold a magnificent chariot, pulled by three mighty horses. Rider steps into it, grasping the reins and preparing to snap them. He does not even look in your direction.
What do you do?
[] Join Rider
-[] Get in the Chariot
-[] Something else
[] Do not join Rider
-[] What do you do instead?
[] By the Power of my Command Seal
-[] Kill Yourself
-[] Stop Sucking
-[] Be Useful
-[] Kill That Thing
-[] Something else?
[] Write-In.
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First Leg
[X] Join Rider
-[X] Get in the Chariot,Waver Isaac
You don't have time, and you run forward, dashing onto the back of the Chariot just as Rider finishes snapping the reins, and you feel an even harsher tug upon your too-few magic circuits. You feel the pain of your miracle making organs beginning to burn with the heat of the strain forced upon them.
But you're an Enforcer, and this pain is nothing compared to the punishment you've been dealt by your Master. Gritting your teeth, you endure.
Until Rider cries "Troias Tragōidia!" And your agony reaches a new peak. With a loud, tumultuous neighing the Chariot begins to move, and you feel a downward pressure begin to assail you. You peer over the side and notice that Rider's mount has no concerns as to whether it travels through the land or air.
And you recognize the downward force acting upon you to be Gravity making it's feeble attempts to tie you to the ground below. You step up, in the few seconds this takes place, and move to Rider's side, seeing his arguably handsome features twisted into a frustrated scowl as he scans the ground below. Rider's chariot breaks the treeline, and you see a number of birds take flight, as if to follow you. But they are then blown away by a powerful gust, as Rider snaps his reins and you take off at a breakneck pace.
It's only a few seconds before you catch up with the band of quicksilver marking the invisible Servant's passage. In spite of his headstart, it seems as if the Rider class truly would not be outdone in terms of covering distance quickly, and you see your Servant begin to smirk hungrily.
"Coward!" He shouts, "You would run and hide rather than finish what you started?! Know that you are not the first to attempt such tactics…" Your circuits burn hot, as Rider snaps his reins once more, "And you shall suffer the same fate as all those that came before you!" The air is filled with the thunderous sound of hooves slamming against the earth, even as you barrel through the air towards your opponent. The band of mercury pauses, then seems to break stride and shoot off in a different direction. Your ride veers through the air, matching the invisible Servant's new trajectory, and you nearly turn a bird into a bloody smear that would decorate the front of Rider's Noble Phantasm.
But even so, it seems that the Servant had received a boost to it's own speed, as you seem to slowly be losing your ability to gain ground on him, even as he begins to move in between narrow streets and obscured alleyways.
"…" Rider's expression turns flat, a thin line forming of his lips from the force of his concentration. Eventually you are following the enemy nearly along the ground, due to risk of losing sight of him as he moves ever deeper into the twisted maze of Bucharest's downtown, until, eventually, he seems to slow down once more while in the middle of an alley just barely wide enough to accommodate Rider's Troias Tragōidia.
"Ha!" You hear your Servant shout, as your gaze instead gets drawn towards the brown-colored graffiti adorning the walls of the two buildings on either side of you…
What do you do next?
[] Run
[] Defend Yourself
[] Command Seal
[] Something Else
-[X] Get in the Chariot,
You don't have time, and you run forward, dashing onto the back of the Chariot just as Rider finishes snapping the reins, and you feel an even harsher tug upon your too-few magic circuits. You feel the pain of your miracle making organs beginning to burn with the heat of the strain forced upon them.
But you're an Enforcer, and this pain is nothing compared to the punishment you've been dealt by your Master. Gritting your teeth, you endure.
Until Rider cries "Troias Tragōidia!" And your agony reaches a new peak. With a loud, tumultuous neighing the Chariot begins to move, and you feel a downward pressure begin to assail you. You peer over the side and notice that Rider's mount has no concerns as to whether it travels through the land or air.
Class: Rider
True Name: ???
Master: Isaac Hemostrus
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: A-
Mana: C
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: A
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: C
At this rank Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals.
Riding: A+
Creatures on the level of Phantasmal Beast and Divine Beast can be used as mounts. However, that does not apply to members of the Dragon Kind.
Noble Phantasms:
Troias Tragōidia: Tempestuous Immortal Chariot
Rank: A
Type: Anti-Army
Rider's three-horsed chariot that is able to move through the sky. Summoned by whistling with two fingers in his mouth, it appears from the sky, controlled by reigns on the driver's stand. It is drawn by three strong-muscled horses, two immortal divine horses bestowed by sea god Poseidon, Xanthos and Balius, and lesser than the other two, a "fine and famous" great horse pillaged from a city, Pedasos. It boasts extraordinary power, firmly charging and "riding like lightning", which is very difficult to stop. Using it, he tramples throughout the battlefield with godspeed, easily trampling one-ton golems and scraping up the ground simply from riding it, increasing in damage dealt proportionally to its increase in speed. It can be likened to a "giant galloping lawnmower" at its highest speed
True Name: ???
Master: Isaac Hemostrus
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Strength: B+
Endurance: A
Agility: A-
Mana: C
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: A
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: C
At this rank Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of High-Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals.
Riding: A+
Creatures on the level of Phantasmal Beast and Divine Beast can be used as mounts. However, that does not apply to members of the Dragon Kind.
Noble Phantasms:
Troias Tragōidia: Tempestuous Immortal Chariot
Rank: A
Type: Anti-Army
Rider's three-horsed chariot that is able to move through the sky. Summoned by whistling with two fingers in his mouth, it appears from the sky, controlled by reigns on the driver's stand. It is drawn by three strong-muscled horses, two immortal divine horses bestowed by sea god Poseidon, Xanthos and Balius, and lesser than the other two, a "fine and famous" great horse pillaged from a city, Pedasos. It boasts extraordinary power, firmly charging and "riding like lightning", which is very difficult to stop. Using it, he tramples throughout the battlefield with godspeed, easily trampling one-ton golems and scraping up the ground simply from riding it, increasing in damage dealt proportionally to its increase in speed. It can be likened to a "giant galloping lawnmower" at its highest speed
And you recognize the downward force acting upon you to be Gravity making it's feeble attempts to tie you to the ground below. You step up, in the few seconds this takes place, and move to Rider's side, seeing his arguably handsome features twisted into a frustrated scowl as he scans the ground below. Rider's chariot breaks the treeline, and you see a number of birds take flight, as if to follow you. But they are then blown away by a powerful gust, as Rider snaps his reins and you take off at a breakneck pace.
It's only a few seconds before you catch up with the band of quicksilver marking the invisible Servant's passage. In spite of his headstart, it seems as if the Rider class truly would not be outdone in terms of covering distance quickly, and you see your Servant begin to smirk hungrily.
"Coward!" He shouts, "You would run and hide rather than finish what you started?! Know that you are not the first to attempt such tactics…" Your circuits burn hot, as Rider snaps his reins once more, "And you shall suffer the same fate as all those that came before you!" The air is filled with the thunderous sound of hooves slamming against the earth, even as you barrel through the air towards your opponent. The band of mercury pauses, then seems to break stride and shoot off in a different direction. Your ride veers through the air, matching the invisible Servant's new trajectory, and you nearly turn a bird into a bloody smear that would decorate the front of Rider's Noble Phantasm.
But even so, it seems that the Servant had received a boost to it's own speed, as you seem to slowly be losing your ability to gain ground on him, even as he begins to move in between narrow streets and obscured alleyways.
"…" Rider's expression turns flat, a thin line forming of his lips from the force of his concentration. Eventually you are following the enemy nearly along the ground, due to risk of losing sight of him as he moves ever deeper into the twisted maze of Bucharest's downtown, until, eventually, he seems to slow down once more while in the middle of an alley just barely wide enough to accommodate Rider's Troias Tragōidia.
"Ha!" You hear your Servant shout, as your gaze instead gets drawn towards the brown-colored graffiti adorning the walls of the two buildings on either side of you…
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What do you do next?
[] Run
[] Defend Yourself
[] Command Seal
[] Something Else
Use of Salt Tokens
So! Some of you have doubtless been wondering how Salt Tokens can be used in this quest, since some of you, such as @Hadiz have ridiculous stores of them that are just gathering dust.
Well, it's pretty simple.
You can spend Salt Tokens on one of three things at this point in time.
The first is Omakes, centered on a character of your choice! These cost 5 Salt Tokens apiece. And will be written at my convenience.
The second item is Wise Up tips! Where you spend 10 Salt Tokens, and I answer almost any question completely honestly, upgrading your Character Sheet with the relevant information for the sakes of ease of access and posterity.
The third item is Mana Replenishment! Where you can replenish Isaac's mana generation abilities and thus ability to either power his magecraft or Rider's Noble Phantasms.
"But TehChron!" You may say, "This is new!"
To which I can only reply "No it isn't! It only wasn't relevant until this point! Had you chosen to reflect on your history you would already be acutely aware of your limits and abilities!"
But since that wasn't the case, you are learning about these things piecemeal. Which is, from Isaac's point of view, him simply remembering things as they become relevant!
Now, ordinarily you'd be at your physical limit in terms of mana right now, but thanks to @BlackHadou 's decision, you have regained 5 Mana of your Daily Total.
What is that daily total? That will have to wait until you take some time to iron that out concretely, but understand that at the moment it's currently at "One more thing" before you bottom out and proceed to black out. Considering that Troias Tragoidia is an active-type Noble Phantasm, you have to keep in mind the passive drain it's having on Isaac simply by remaining active, which you can consider to be about 5 Units per Action.
Character Sheet has been updated with the new information! Good luck!
Well, it's pretty simple.
You can spend Salt Tokens on one of three things at this point in time.
The first is Omakes, centered on a character of your choice! These cost 5 Salt Tokens apiece. And will be written at my convenience.
The second item is Wise Up tips! Where you spend 10 Salt Tokens, and I answer almost any question completely honestly, upgrading your Character Sheet with the relevant information for the sakes of ease of access and posterity.
The third item is Mana Replenishment! Where you can replenish Isaac's mana generation abilities and thus ability to either power his magecraft or Rider's Noble Phantasms.
"But TehChron!" You may say, "This is new!"
To which I can only reply "No it isn't! It only wasn't relevant until this point! Had you chosen to reflect on your history you would already be acutely aware of your limits and abilities!"
But since that wasn't the case, you are learning about these things piecemeal. Which is, from Isaac's point of view, him simply remembering things as they become relevant!
Now, ordinarily you'd be at your physical limit in terms of mana right now, but thanks to @BlackHadou 's decision, you have regained 5 Mana of your Daily Total.
What is that daily total? That will have to wait until you take some time to iron that out concretely, but understand that at the moment it's currently at "One more thing" before you bottom out and proceed to black out. Considering that Troias Tragoidia is an active-type Noble Phantasm, you have to keep in mind the passive drain it's having on Isaac simply by remaining active, which you can consider to be about 5 Units per Action.
Character Sheet has been updated with the new information! Good luck!