Rebuild of Apocrypha (Yet Another Another Fate/etc. Quest)

[TehChron]

You stare at the insanity unfolding below you, as a decrepit old man fights a Heroic Spirit from the Age of Gods and appears to be winning.

"…What the hell is this?!" You mutter in disbelief, turning towards Mum-Ra, who had taken it upon herself to lower Rider and Archer onto the balcony.
She looks away from you, blushing slightly.
"Well…" You hear her reply (eavesdropper), "He is a member of the Burial Agency. It shouldn't be that much of a shock, really." You level a stare at her.
She pointedly does not look at you.
"That Servant was beating Achilles around like it was his job Ma-"

"Moira."

"-oira, so forgive me for being skeptical of whether or not some random old man would be able to take down a Servant of that level." You glare at her, and in the corner of your eye you see Rider begin to stir.

"So kind of you to finally join us, Rider. We were just talking about you."

Your Servant groggily pushes himself back into a standing position, "Izzat right…?"

"Yes." You reply crisply, "While you were off trying to seduce a moderately large rock or something, I was saving our teammates from Assassin."

Rider simply looks at you, a wry smirk on his lips as he raises a blond eyebrow.

"Yes, that Assassin. The one who repeatedly kicked your ass even without using the Paladinsin or whatever his Noble Phantasm was."

Rider shakes his head, "I must still be unconscious, as there's absolutely no way that you could be serious. Especially if he had a Noble Phantasm called the Paladinsin…Probably meant something…" Rider's actions slow as his eyes widen in shock and realization of your amazing superiority.

It was as good a cue as any to continue, "But being a kind Master I will forgive you for your shortcomings," You say, bowing, "So long as you join the fight immediately, before Father Johnson gets killed."

"…The…the…Palladium…" Rider finishes, his eyes as vacant as ever, before he quickly snaps to the side, his gaze traveling towards the two combatants .

He curses.

"Now, since this is Assassin," You see Rider's grip against the balcony doubles in intensity, the masonry beginning to fracture around his fingers, "And considering your track record against him, you should attempt to sneak up on him rather than take him out head on."

"How…how is that old man doing so well against him…?" Rider mutters, his eyes widening as sweat forms upon his brow.

"Then…I don't know. Wrestle him to the ground or something." You add on, shrugging.

"That bastard…That bastard!" Achilles mutters, his limbs trembling before he leaps onto the now warped rail of the balcony, his spear held aloft as it points towards the combatants.

"DIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMEDEEEEEESS!!!!"

Assassin of Black turns towards your position, Rider's cry having proved sufficient to attract his attention. Glowing blue eyes lock onto your Servant, and an arrogant smirk returns to Assassin's lips.

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What now?

[] Perspective Change (1d3)

[] Write-In

 

[TehChron]

AH! A great day to be rid of the oppressors! Fighting for freedom! Charing onward to drag down their battlements and free all your fellow slaves from their cruel would be Masters!

For You! Are! Spartacus!

A glorious hero summoned forth into modern times in order to fight a war!

To complete the task you had failed in life, and overthrow all your oppressors! To have been defeated in the end as you had, by base treachery and that fat slob Ceaser was unforgivable! You would break the chains that bound you, continue your righteous charge, and free all the oppressed!

Starting with those bastards, the Yggdmillenia!

Ah yes, the redhead had been most helpful, informing you of where they were, and the unfortunate state of your fellow slaves, the Black Faction Servants!

The very name boiled your blood, and you would stride forth and lead the charge towards freedom!

For freedom!

To overcome oppression!

To destroy the Oppressors!

Onward, you would charge, and destroy the Yggdmillenia!

"I'm coming, my comrades!" You smiled, and continued your glorious charge!

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What do you do next?


[] Fight the Oppressors!
-[] How?
[] Free the Oppressed!
-[] How?
[] Break the chains which bind you!
-[] How?

[] Perspective Change (1d2)

 

[TehChron]

That's right! You'll fight the oppressors, wherever they may hide in cowardice! Your grin widens as your pace picks up, your comrades had been shackled long enough! One moment more was far too long to be under the thumbs of their oppressors and you would be the one to save them, and have them join your cause! Energy floods your body, your legs becoming light as air! You soar!

And crash into a small figure, who had tyrannically decided to impede your advance!

"OPPRESSOR!" You roar, turning a toothy, feral grin towards the smaller, pale, fleshy creature who would attempt to rob you of your freedom, "YOU SEEK TO ENSLAVE ME ONCE MORE!"

The arrogant trash shivers, raising it's hands pleadingly towards you, and your grin turns hard, sharp, "IT IS TOO LATE TO BEG FOR MERCY, OPPRESSOR! TAKE YOUR COMPLAINTS TO THE UNDERWORLD WITH YOU!"

Your leg lifts up, as if there had never been any obstacle to begin with, and the miniature oppressor is sent flying off. A wall collapses from the impact of the fleshy missile.

Hmph! Such frailty! More proof that no man has any right to rule over another! But! You realize with a start, that tyrant you had just shoved aside served his purpose well indeed!

He had caused your comrades to suffer another few moments in activity! You grit your teeth in anger and continue your righteous charge! TIME WAS OF THE ESSENCE! YOU COULDN'T SPARE A MOMENT! TO THINK! EVEN THE VERY MASONRY MOVED TO TRY AND CONTINUE THE OPPRESSION OF YOUR COMRADES! Several people tried to hole up in it, seeking shelter.

"TOOLS OF THE OPPRESSOR, BE DESTROYED IN THE WAKE OF LIBERATION!" You cry out, smashing down the edifices of slavery that dare to stand in your way, "MY COMRADES! FREE MINDED MEN! ALSO SOMETIMES WOMEN AND THE OCCASIONAL CHILD! COME JOIN ME AS I BREAK DOWN THE WALLS THAT BIND YOUR FEET, KEEPING YOU DOWN!" It trembles, before collapsing in a white plume of smoke and debris.

You continue moving forward, roaring with all your strength as the stone constructs part like water before your righteousness! "LOOK ABOUT YOU, MY FRIENDS! DO YOU NOT SEE IT?! THE SHACKLES OF THE OPPRESSOR IN YOUR EVERY DAY LIVES! THAT WEIGHT WHICH SEEKS TO CRUSH YOU BENEATH IT'S OWN ARROGANCE! JOIN ME, COMRADES, AND OVERTHROW IT! WITH THE STRENGTH OF FREEDOM AND RIGHTEOUSNESS, WE SHALL OVERCOME ALL OBSTACLES AND OBTAIN TRUE EQUALITY!" You stride through the wreckage. Nothing moves except from the force of your passing.

You refuse to slow down, gradually picking up speed, your strides growing ever longer as you feel the wind whipping around your face!

"SHALL YOU SPEND YOUR LIFE GROVELING AND LICKING THE FEET OF CRIMINALS LIKE A BEATEN DOG?! RISE UP! EVEN IF WE ALL WERE TO DIE TOMORROW, IT SHALL BE IN THE PURSUIT OF GLORIOUS FREEDOM! EVEN DEATH IS NOT SOME TERRIBLE THING! BETTER TO FADE AWAY WITH DIGNITY, THEN SUFFER THE FATE OF THE CHAINED ANIMAL, A PET FOR SCUM WHO WOULD CREATE FALSE DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN MEN!" A loud whine echoes through the air, accompanied by a wet popping sound.

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What now?

[] Continue Your Charge!

[] A Change of Tactics is Necessary!
-[] What?

[] Perspective Change (1d2)

[] Write-In

 

[TehChron]

He watched the terrain pass him by at a snail's pace, the seat beneath him awkward and hard, long bereft of creature comforts such as cushioning. The boy had been beaten. Humiliated. Robbed and then tossed around like trash, before being discarded and picked back up by the man next to him.

Sagiri Hyouma did not know how he came to be naked, save for his underpants, but he was relatively sure that the blond man next to him knew the answer. He turned a petulant glare at him, before shivering slightly from the rapidly cooling air as it drew goosebumps from his bare skin. His nostrils were filled with the acrid smell of gasoline, and the seat below him lurched wildly as the engine coughed.

"…So." The second rate began, looking towards his would be rescuer, partner, and now driver, "Why leave Assassin behind?"

The blond man merely shrugged indifferently, one hand guiding the steering wheel of the vehicle while the other expertly handled the stick shift.

"He can take care of himself."

Hyouma looked at him skeptically, recalling the Masters of Red. That orange haired girl. That blond buffoon.

And…Sisigou.

Hyouma shuddered again, this time from a chill that had nothing to do with the air around him.

"You're very lucky, you know." The younger magus snapped a glare at the older one, "If I had prioritized taking down one of the enemy Masters, I could have taken out one of them before the War had truly begun.

"Although doing so would have ensured that you would be lost in the process."

"Then why do it?" Hyouma spat, "Why save me, when you could have just taken down one of the enemies weak points instead?! There's no reason for it!"

The ancient automobile continued chugging along, even as it was outpaced by several small children running alongside it. It's driver took his eyes off the road, and Aaron Gentles Yggdmillenia stared at the Japanese magus he had saved.

"I am not in the habit of giving things up, Hyouma." His gaze returned to the road ahead as the car jostled itself on the well-maintained road, "I take and keep things. I do not lose them."

"Is that why you're still driving this rusted old hunk of scrap around?" Hyouma replied, refusing to meet the Master of Black's gaze as he rapped his closed fist against the metal door of the vehicle.

A click echoes in Hyouma's ear as the hammer of a massive black pistol is pulled back, the barrel a mere inch from the boy's skull.

"The Model T Ford is the oldest automobile model in existence, Hyouma. Treat it with respect." Aaron replied, his eyes still on the road, "Or I'll splatter your brains all over the side of the road like my last name was Gallagher."

"Who?"

"Oh you are just asking for me to kill you, aren't you?" The barrel of the pistol began nudging Hyouma in his face, trying to push him against the door of the car, "Out, get out. I'm going to kill you now and I don't want a mess on my precious Baby T. Get the fuck out, Hyouma."

A cold sweat formed all over Hyouma's body as he paled dramatically, "But…I thought you said you don't like giving up things!"

"I don't." Aaron agreed, continuing to smack Hyouma with his gun, "But in this case I'm just throwing out some trash, now get out and be quick about it."

"Bu-but, the other Masters!"

"I'll figure something out." Was Gentles response as the barrel of the pistol came to a rest against the boy's cheekbone, pointing upwards.

"This works."

"Pl-please d-don't…" Hyouma began whimpering pathetically, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"…Nope."

"P-PLEASE!"

"Hmmm..." Aaron paused thoughtfully, finally bringing the vehicle to a rest, "Still no." And the Model T lurched back to life, as if it had never stopped to begin with.

At least until it stopped again, this time as it was cut off by a bulky, tan, jeep, driven by a blond woman with a trail of dust and exhaust following closely behind her.

"Rider." The blond magus intoned, tilting his head in greeting.

"Hello, Gentles." The now identified Servant of Black replied, carefully stepping out of her vehicle, "Is that Hyouma?"

"It is." Aaron replied instantly, keeping his gun pressed against the boy's skull.

"H-Help me! PLEASE!"

Rider merely tilted her head at the display, "Do you really have to kill him?"

"No, but it would make me feel better." Aaron replied without skipping a beat.

"Then why not hand him over to me?" The Servant said, looking back and forth between the two humans.
Her expression betraying a wry amusement.
"I don't see why not." Aaron answered, shrugging. He then turned, staring at the younger magus. "Which would you prefer?"

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And then?

[] Hyouma got into the car with Rider of Black

[] Hyouma continued to ride with Aaron

[] Perspective Change

[] Write-In

 

[TehChron]

"I…I think I'll go with Rider." Hyouma replied, gulping audibly.

The older magus simply nodded, waving the hand holding the pistol idly at the nearly nude magus. Carefully, Sagara Hyouma pried open the door of the antique automobile and lowered himself out onto the street, walking towards the jeep before him.

"Well then," The girl said, smirking at him, "Get in."

"O-of course, Rider." The Servant of Black smiled gently at him, encouraging the younger Second Rate to sit in the vehicle next to her. With a deft motion, the jeep roared to life, it's engine easily drowning out the rattling of Gentles' Model T. Instantly, they were off, driving through the Sighisoara streets at a respectable rate.

"So." Rider said, by way of making conversation, "How did you find the Red Faction?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your general impression," Rider clarifies, glancing at the young man, "Strengths, weaknesses, any observations and things of that nature."

"Oh…" Hyouma pauses, his gaze turning distant for a few brief moments. His body then shudders, trembling as his skin grows pale, and he breaks out into a cold sweat.

"They are…" The magus says, "Individually terrifying."

Rider hums thoughtfully, as the jeep descends into silence once again.

"Hey, Rider." Hyouma begins, breaking the quiet monotony, "I've got a question."

"What is it?"

The failed Onmyouji pauses, gulping, as he steadies his nerves, "Uh…What's A rank riding really good for, anyway?"

Rider flashes him a toothy smirk, "Would you like to find out?"

 

[The Out Of World]

⌈Omake: IKEAmillennia⌋

Two figures strolled through the spacious halls of Castle Yggdmillennia, one clad in black and the other in white.

"And what, pray tell, have you distracted me from my strategic analysis of the Red Faction's capabilities for, Master?" He dryly emphasized the last word in a feeble attempt to remind the head of the Yggdmillennia of his own duties in the ongoing war between magi and Heroic Spirits.

"It's something of the utmost importance, voivode." Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia addressed Lancer of Black in his usual manner. It was an odd if not respectful relationship wherein Lancer recognized Darnic's authority as a Master, and he would in turn defer to him as the Black Faction's military commander. The pair reached a massive set of iron double doors at the end of the stone-laden hallway. The blue-haired former ally of the Third Reich pulled open the pair of doors with a flourish and posed dramatically as he revealed the grand spectacle behind him.

Spoiler

A radiant glow bathed the hallway, exposing to Lancer's sight a grand room unlike anything he had ever seen. A vast assortment of luxurious furniture lined the room; chairs of every shape and size. As they passed through the room of furniture, many familiar faces were seen. Saber silently waved to the pair from the embrace of an enormous La-Z-Boy, Rider was fooling around on a swivel chair in the distance and Berserker had been chained to an odd vibrating contraption set to "Shiatsu," whatever that meant. He dismissed it as one of Celenike's usual deviant fixations and moved on to the center of the furniture labyrinth, where Darnic gestured to a ring of chairs and couches.

"I've been thinking of getting a new for the piece meeting room, so I had Gordes go down to the nearest IKEA and get a few things for me." Darnic briefly wondered whether using a fellow Master as a pack mule was the best of decisions, but that was honestly all Gordes was good for. "Sit down in each of these and tell me what you think."

Lancer reluctantly obliged, approaching a wood-crafted armchair with a footstool. "This is a waste of time and resources, Master. Why did you buy so many of these if youuuurrrrgh-" His complaints were soon replaced with a groan of relief as he sank into the armchair's wondrously soft cushions. "This...this is absolutely heavenly! Astounding craftsmanship for a product of the modern age...but my point remains. Why did you buy so much furniture?" Lancer waved at the sea of wood, steel and upholstery that engulfed the room.

"I couldn't quite make up my mind, so I figured I might as well get everything and refurbish as many rooms as we can. The excess will be used for target practice and ammunition for those trebuchets Caster has been dead-set on building to fortify our defenses. Besides, Gordes needed the exercise. I mean, just look at him with that pudgy face, beady eyes, vile mustache...and the smell, dear God, the smell!"

Lancer merely nodded in agreement. One could only wonder if the heir to the Musik family had ever been introduced to deodorant. "This is chair is an excellent piece. Perhaps I'll claim it for my own." He lazily removed his boots from the stool. "What do you call this footrest, though?"

"Hm? Oh, that. I believe it's called an Ottoman-"

SHINKSHINKSHINKSHINKSHINKSHINK

A cluster of jagged spikes erupted from the floor, brutally ripping the Ottoman to splinters. Lancer wordlessly glared at the offending article from his chair, his fists crushing the handrests to a pulp.

"Right." Darnic coughed. "Let's move on to the next one, shall we?"

 

[TehChron]

Far from where events of great import took place, even now....

"Well, that was…something."

"I had warned you that the old man was not to be underestimated."

"That…you most certainly did." Heavy clothes rustled as golden eyes shifted to stare at the regal figure before them, "But still, the Burial Agency's Fourth? How did such a thing happen?"

"Perhaps it is the result of a certain someone daring to interfere with the streams of time?" An elegant eyebrow rose in the darkness, matching her partner's gaze.

A youthful laugh filled the empty chamber the two shared, illuminated only by the light of a crystal orb, projecting the image of a battle between two heroes out of myth, and a walking corpse. There is a sound of clinking glass, and a vision of beauty calmly pours dark crimson fluid into her glass, swirling it elegantly.

"You know me, I couldn't afford to leave things up to chance."

"I suspect that is why you have not invited Caster to this little meeting?"

"Of course not!" The young man to her side smiles, his red shroud covering his body, "He's just in the way for now, and I distrust that Master of his even more than the zombie."

"A wise choice." The woman smirks, draining her cup, "But we'll need to be making our moves shortly. The stage is very different from how it once was."

Her companion shrugs, an easygoing smile on his lips, "Ah, but beloved Queen. The more things change…the more they stay the same." A brown hand raises above the crystal ball, shifting the image from the inside of the devastated Church to the Romanian Wilderness, where a gray mass of muscle and leather dashes forth with an innocent smile plastered upon his face.

"Even without our guidance, Caster can't help but play to type."

"The curse of the artist, I suppose."

"So what of the Black Team? What do you think of them so far?"

Soft lips tighten into a frown, "That Diomedes of the War Cry is Assassin of Black is most troublesome. We are fortunate that he lacks the…compatibility with me that the other did, but that man possesses a brutal cunning all his own. The destruction of Thebes was mostly by his hands, and Agammemnon of the Golden Scepter heeded his counsel over Wise Nestor and Cunning Odysseus for a reason."

"Do you believe this bodes ill for us, then?"

"No, once the Gardens are completed then he shall be no threat. Only…"

"If Assassin has been filled by someone of such significance, then there is little telling whom the Black Team summoned to play Berserker this time." The boy nodded in understanding, "Archer too, is a Servant that I do not recognize."

"Like with Saber…?"

"Yeah. Information Erasure, in addition to an identity hiding Noble Phantasm."

"Ominous."

"I know that tone…"

"Another bet, then."

"The usual wager?"

"Mmm. The bet is thus: That the one that shall prove to be most troublesome to us shall be a member of the Red Faction."

"I'll gladly take that bet."

"Oh? Your wager, then?"

"Yes…I bet…That once again, Rider of Black shall be the greatest inconvenience to our schemes, one way or another."

"Then we shall see what may come, and then determine which of us was correct once we have overcome those obstacles."

"I could not imagine a better celebration of a hard fought victory."

Assassin of Red looked contentedly at her companion, a soft smile upon her lips.

"Nor I…Master."

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What do you see?

[] The night sky after a long rest (Full restoration)
[] The last rays of sunset (Half restoration)
[] The ruined insides of the cathedral, you had only passed out for a moment (No restoration)

 

[Ridiculously Average Guy]

I'm going to be caught up with updating PtP so if someone wants to take a stab at portraying the Hemostrus families home life I'd make it worth their while

*hint hint*

Click to shrink...

Well, assuming I have (relatively) free reign to bullshit:

It depends on the era.

Currently, with the children being adults (or near enough) and (more importantly) Isaac being an Enforcer, Isaac doesn't spend much time with the family.

It's understandable, really. After all, to have everyone together is to invite disaster. Isaac should really never be around his brother, as the longer they spend together the more bizarre he becomes. Often it's non-destructive, but he has all but destroyed a house before in one of his more frightening (obsessive) moods.

With that in mind, his mother (dad is dead) generally only has one over at a time. Given that Isaac's irrationally isn't completely tied to his brother and will show up if he is stressed enough, she tends to favour his brother. This is, of course, ignoring that his brother is also the better magus so would be chosen anyways. Issac can't really outdo him (not for lack of trying) which, combined with his stress response, makes him a bit of a black sheep.

Again, understandable, but it makes for a...frosty, home life. Possibly why he's attached himself to Bazett (a mentor figure who didn't know/care his brother) so strongly. Hell, possibly why he threw himself into the Enforcers in the first place.

But enough on Issac, let's look at his brother. David. How should I put this...imagine if Souji Tendou was a magus. No, he's not the chosen one, but he's certainly a prodigy. He learns like nothing else, and damn near breathes magecraft. Which maybe wouldn't be so bad, if David didn't also tend to be great at everything else. He'll probably take the family magic further over his life than has been done ever before, or something ridiculous like that.

He's also kind of a douchebag. No, not the normal kind, he's more refined than that. Instead David is the sort of person that is shitty to others by using carefully placed niceness and/or innocence. He didn't start off that way, no one does, but over the years arrogance set in.

Mom and Dad. Well Dad died shortly before David was born, which is why Issac both got the crest so young and got to keep it. Mom, while not hating Issac, finds issue with pretty much everything he does, and dotes on David. She almost constantly despairs that David isn't the one who got the crest, especially if Issac is in hearing range.

With that all in mind, let's move back to when this all started. To childhood.

Issac's brother...David, was pretty clearly a genius from the get go. Isaac was not. Not to say Isaac was stupid, he's actually above average past the...everything(?), but he didn't match his brother. This became clear to Isaac at a very early age.

See magus families being magus families, competition was encouraged as soon as it was possible. Whichever child did better got a prize. Issac lost, a lot. Even when Issac won (he started off better at physical activities being a few years older) he would still manage to lose when David manipulated him into giving him the victory/prize.

This all came to a head during a simple game of chess, when a 6 year old Issac found himself outmaneuvered. For the 11th time in the last hour. By a toddler barely over a year old. It was at this point, as Issac looked down at his pieces (were they really even his?) that his brother had manipulated him into forming a smiley face on the board, that Issac saw his future. Given the contents of said future, he had an existential crisis too.

As he reset the pieces, reality had been thrown into sharp relief, and Issac could see the path that lay ahead of him. If things continued as they were, he would (at best) be reduced to nothing but a puppet for his brother for the rest of his life. He would be nothing. At worst? He would be a puppet, and he would come to like it.

If they had been twins, maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they did. if Issac had always been overshadowed, if he had less pride, he would have just crumbled. He would have given up, or wailed impotently until his brother took control and molded him.

But, before David, Issac had a few blissful years of being the best around, the beloved heir. He'd had a taste of heaven, and he would not allow it to so easily be taken away. Instead, he snapped.

Except...Isaac didn't snap the way normal people do. Either through instinct or knowledge, he knew that wouldn't get him what he wanted, knew that wouldn't beat David. So, instead, he basically did this:


Keeping in mind that the other side of the board was desperately trying to keep playing normally. And...Issac managed to win (by making his brother cry and run away in sheer confusion but it still counts). of course, he was immediately grounded while his mother stared in horror.

After another couple of sessions she stopped pitting Issac directly against his brother and instead sent him off to school, wherin he seemed to be perfectly normal. In fact, he appeared a cut above the rest, and was rather unrelenting in his drive to advance. He was smart, insightful, even wily. Outside of the odd incident, he seemed fine.

Unless he was anywhere near his brother, that just resulted in more chaos. Not matter how watched, how careful, it never went anywhere good. His mother even tried using a geas on Issac for a while, but somehow this made things worse.

Anyways, that basically sets the tone for the next 18 years.

So, essentially, Issac has all but been shaped from childhood to bypass geniuses.

 

[TehChron]

You return to consciousness, darkness greeting your vision.

"Guess the excitement was a bit much for the lad, eh?" A faintly familiar voice enters your awareness, along with a cold hard object nudging against your face.

"What in the hell are you, old man?" You knew that voice…

You groan, slowly forcing your eyes open as your eyes fall upon your familiar Servant, who was busy attempting to shove his face into the bowed over figure of a significantly more pallid figure.

"Ugh…Rider…?"

"So Sleeping Beauty finally woke up, eh?" The older man chuckles, the sound of metal clacking together accompanying it, "How was the nap, boy?"

"Nap?" You blink groggily, staring at the pair.

"Went out like a rock after Rider jumped in on my fight, had that bastard on the ropes too." The older man says, poking the end of his cane into your eye, grounding it slowly with a mild grin on his face.

"S-stop that!" Rider exclaims, reaching down to snatch the offending object away from the old man, as he casually moves it out of the Heroic Spirit's grasp at the last second.

"The boy's gotta finish waking himself up you know."

"My Master deserves some rest, you decrepit old corpse." Rider nearly hisses, making another failed attempt to grab the man's cane.

"Heh. Just because you decided you'd rather die young is no reason to look down on us old farts, kiddo." The pallid figure says, shooting a smirk at your Servant, "Some of us were able to earn our legends just fine without giving up the simpler things in life."

"…" You continue to watch the scene with a sense of utmost surrealism. Last thing you remember was seeing Rider, Achilles, leaping after Assassin of Black…And how long were you out for?

It almost felt like it had been six months!

The glare Achilles sends towards the old man in response is so intense that your breath is taken away, the emotional feedback over the Master-Servant link nearly causing you to black out again.

"Ah, the lads going back down, is he?" The wood begins tapping against your forehead once again, and you weakly attempt to swat it away on for the damn cane to deftly swerve around your hand, continuing it's assault.

"I'm awake!" You eventually cry out, trying your best to not sound petulant as you do so, "What is it? And why am I so tired?"

"It's mana burnout." A soft, feminine voice replies from beyond your vision, and then you suddenly remember everything!

"Ah, Madonna, Father Johnson! I remember now!" You do your best to level a glare at the pallid man, "I had almost finished recruiting Asssassin of Black! Why did you have to ruin it?!"

"Anyway, now that Hemostrus has joined us back in the land of the living and the distractions are gone for the moment, we can proceed to business." He reaches into his volumnous vestments, pulling a small square made of plastic with an opaque screen. Pale fingers flit upon its surface before Jahoosaphet lifts it up to the rest of you.

"Sisigou here."

"It's Jackson, just had a surprise visit from Assassin of Black."

"Eesh, persistent guy. He's been hounding us since Hemostrus landed. You alright old man?"

"Just fine. The bastard revealed his true name, Diomedes. He probably has the Cap of Hades off that "virgin goddess" of his."

"Would explain his invisibility trick…" The necromancer's gruff voices growls out from that plastic square, "What do you want to do about it?"

"Right now? Nothing. I was informed that our Berserker just decided to go for a walk and I was hoping you could hold down the fort for us over here."

"Saber and I can give it a shot, but…"

"What is it?" Jacobson grinds out, "You have other plans?"

"I've already got a friend coming in. Guy by the name of Burntland. He's an ex-Special Forces that has it in for Gentles, and I was hoping to launch a manhunt for him by tonight if he's still in the city."

"Do it." The man in front of you replies, "I'll employ other methods to take care of Spartacus." He points a finger at Melty Dubstep, "You and Archer catch a ride from Rider and back up that idiot." Rider squawks indignantly while Archer merely nods his head in agreement.

"What about my Master?! Surely you dont plan on setting my Master to go after a rogue Berserker in his current state!"

Father Joseph merely snorts, "Of course not. He'll be in here, on the lam resting in case you decide to be a damn fool again and kick up your drain on him."

"Excuse me." You say slowly, enunciating to allow the magic box to accurately convey your intent to Sisigou from wherever he is inside of it, "But don't I get a say in this?"

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————​

[] You do
-[] Go with Sisigou
-[] You cant escape it, go with Achilles to bring your teams Berserker to heel
[] You don't



[] By the Power of my Command Seal
-[] Write-In

 

[The Out Of World]

⌈ Omake: That Blood's Destiny ⌋

To Isaac Hemostrus, the entire world seemed to be going up in flames. For once the fire wasn't his fault, but that was a cold comfort in the face of the desolation that scarred the landscape around him. The black sheep of his line struggled to lift himself from the rubble-filled crater in which he rested, but he could hardly even muster the strength to clench his fists, let alone rise to his feet.

"Master of Achilles, I really liked your jive. But it just ain't in the cards for you to survive." An unswervingly confident voice rhymed from afar.

Caster. Not Caster of White nor Caster of Black, for both had perished in the conflict, the latter being slain by Ruler in retaliation for killing that bizarre homunculus who ate the magical core of Saber of Black. Ruler's standards seemed to be as low as a limbo bar, what with his insatiable lust for money and dragon meat, but Isaac had spent enough time around Rider to hardly care about that anymore.

Memories of Rider came rushing back to the surface of Isaac's mind, granting him hatred enough of his foe to raise his head to behold the fiends who orchestrated this disaster. This Caster swaggered forward, clad in an eccentric suit of purple that typically denoted an association with ladies of the evening. Not exactly what one would expect to be worn by one of the key military commanders of the Trojan War. Then again, having the aspect of a goddess as his daughter meant he could dress damn well however he pleased. Indeed, this Caster's ability to tap into the sorceries of Hecate with the legend of Iphigenia as a conduit made Agamemnon a spellcaster on par with the likes of Circe herself, perhaps even greater.

Beside Caster strolled his partner-in-crime, the chief of the Yggdmillennia clan and the mastermind behind both the Great Holy Grail War and the vast multitude of False Grail Wars staged over the years. Atop his head rested the seat of his power, a voluminous feathered white-and-gold hat with several glowing stones embedded on its surface.

"Indeed. Now that I have become the Ultimate Styleform, there is no man or spirit on the face of the planet that can hope to defeat the power of my style." The lord of the now-destroyed House of Yggdmillennia grinned savagely as Agamemnon broke out into a storm of High-Speed Divine Rhymes, blasting Isaac deeper into the crater with a tide of mystic soundwaves.

"All hope is lost, Isaac Hemostrus!" The Eight-Forked Serpent gloated with malicious glee. "Your Servant has returned to the Throne, and Kotomine's bubble burst like the sad, self-pitying little soap opera it was doomed to be. Diomedes is sharing the fate of his rival, and Jackson...well. You know well enough what happened to him." Andrew Jackson's sacrifice would not be forgotten, having spent the last of his remaining Command Seals to prevent Karna from destroying all of Romania with his mighty Brahmastra and being ambushed by a steroid-ridden B-Movie monster that exploded shortly afterward.

"Now that I have the Platonic prototype style of these ancient heroes, combined with my own innovative brand of modern style, there is nothing to stop me from dissolving the Counter Force and instating my new world order!"

"You...damned...madman…" Isaac groaned with fury. "Can't you see we've no shield against the True Demons without the Counter Force?!"

"Oh, I'll just have Gordes take care of it." Ultimate Darnic waved dismissively before strolling toward Isaac with his golden cane in hand. "Now then, I'll enjoy disposing of you personally. You have been a greater thorn in my side that anyone I've met in all my years of life, more so than even that overblown coffee table Gentles." A crackle of ungodly energy raced from Perfect Darnic's hat and into his cane, which he then stabbed down toward Isaac's head-

-only for a jet of pressurized mercury to erupt from his nipples pecs, blasting the cane into the ground inches from his face!

Ultimate Darnic's face grew into a momentary scowl of distaste, and then the ground began to quake with the wrath of an angry god. "W-what sorcery is this?"

"Don't you remember, Darnic?" Isaac's face split into grin from ear to ear. "Diomedes put one last plan into place before you killed him! I'm sure you're awfully familiar with Romania, right? Then you know that this stretch of wilderness is riddled with all sorts of hidden volcanoes!"

"You fool!" Ultimate Darnic roared furiously as the earth beneath the trio exploded, propelling them all into the sky on a flying missile of a miniature island. "The Palladium can do many things, but you and I both know it can't arrange for the death of his foes!"

Meanwhile Agamemnon rehearsed a panicked series of raps as his section of the island crumbled away into the surge of lava that had been infused with Darnic's prana! The Heroic Spirit was claimed by the volcanic torrent and burned to cinders! Ultimate Darnic turned his attention to his dead comrade, then hissed at Isaac with the rage of a vengeful deity.

"No! This isn't the Palladium! Was this all part of your plan, Hemostrus?!"

"Damn right it was! Don't you ever dare to underestimate I, Isaac Hemonstrus!" Actually it was just a fortunate coincidence that Agamemnon died, but Isaac's dialogue kept Ultimate Darnic distracted long enough for him not to notice the platform beneath him exploding into a shower of meteoric stones and propelling him further toward the heavens with unchecked speed!

"You...can't...kill...me…" Darnic rasped through his charred vocal chords as he soared beyond the border between the planet's atmosphere and space. Ice began to crystallize along the edges of his uniform, sparking wild panic in the magus' eyes. "Yooooouuuuu….caaaaaaaaa……" In a matter of minutes, all of his body was entombed in its own frozen flesh. Trapped between a mortal body and a spiritual form, he could not escape from the cold void of space. Darnic eventually stopped thinking.

Isaac awoke on an unfamiliar shore hours later, having survived the descent from the upper atmosphere-

"Master, wake up!" Some bothersome voice interrupts the climax of your thrilling tale.

- by strapping rocks to his feet and skiing into the ocean to reduce the impact of his fall-

"Seriously, you really need to-" WHOOSH! BAM! And now everything is annoyingly loud. It sounds like a damnable warzone out there - can't a man get some rest?!

Ahem. Anyway, Isaac Hemostrus finally earned the pride and affection of his mentor, and the two settled down in-

THWACK!

You return to consciousness, darkness greeting your vision.

"Guess the excitement was a bit much for the lad, eh?" A faintly familiar voice enters your awareness, along with a cold hard object nudging against your face.

You silently curse your company. Waking a man up from such a pleasant dream, how rude!