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Post by Miska on Oct 21, 2015 16:36:25 GMT
Unconsciously, Miska’s lips started praying. His grip on his sword tightened. His back, hunched over in an effort to be as small as possible, pressed ever closer to the wooden board behind him. This large antique wooden desk he had hid under was made of strong old wood, but Miska doubted that it could stand much. He could only hope that it was thick enough to cover the vibration from his trembling hands. And then he heard it. A grunt. A hollow footstep. The unmistakable sense that someone was looking for her. Miska held her breath, praying even more fervently. The dreadful presence seemed to stop just outside the door far across the desk, then stopped. Suddenly, the lone lamp at the ceiling; the lone lamp that had somehow stay lighted in this forsaken library flickered and died. Miska’s world was enveloped in darkness. ***
It all started with a good intention. Just a few hours ago Miska Kopparsvard was standing in the brightly lit room of Chaldea’s Global Environment Model, the Chaldeas. She was being given her first mission briefing, and to her instructor’s delight Miska was very quick to understand. It was to be a simple mission: tailing a creature as it wandered down the streets of a ruined city. The next time she knew she was inside a strange contraption with all her gears intact. ‘Ray-shift’, they said, and a deafening sound and twisted light was the only thing she knew after. That was when the miscalculation happened. Being naïve as he was, Miska could not stem his enthusiasm. He had spent the last night before studying the whole Ray-shift system and of Servants and Masters, and the whole morning was filled with checking and re-checking the equipment he might needed. He imagined him as he liked to be: a proper Master, guiding his Servant into a perfect completion of the mission. To that end he was still thinking of what would the best words to start their briefing when the Ray Shift started. Unfortunately, due to her excitement she subconsciously activated her Magic Circuit at that time, and in no time at all her spell had taken effect on the machine. She could “sense” the technicians panicking at the sudden surge of outflow as she unwittingly did what she did best: making a system far more effective. It was a dangerous and risky affair, since a little miscalculation on her part could mean the breakdown of the entire system. There was a reason why she needed to thoroughly understand a system before attempting to make it more effective. But this time, Miska was extremely lucky. He arrived almost three times faster than what he was intended to be. When she opened her eyes, she was in the courtyard of an abandoned western-style mansion, its frame derelict and its grasses ashen gray. What was left of its fences had crumbled, the gates hinged loose on one wing. All around her were skeletal figures of once-tidy rows of trees now sadly extending their fingers to the blood-red sky. Near her feet was an empty patch that obviously were beautiful flower beds some time before. It was nothing but a black rectangle now. Only the decrepit building stood haughtily, lording over the scenery like an old mountain king on his domain. Curious, Miska turned over the soil with the sole of his boots just slightly. The soil was dry, dead. Not even a worm was present. Instead, something else was present. There were growls. Many growls. Miska looked around and saw red eyes suddenly appeared from the darkness. There were three-no five- no countless poking out from the dead trees around. Many more were converging from outside the gate, twisted limbs and bones crawling along the unhinged gate. Miska knew what they were and even how they felt like- Chaldea’s simulator was so realistic it was scary- but it still didn’t stop him from feeling the dread of facing the real thing. They were ghouls. Apparently, Miska had somehow arrived at an old house infested by the things, and right in the centre of their courtyard no less. Their numbers were not very large, however. Perhaps only thirty the most. But they were still a significant threat. Especially to a child trembling with fear for the first time. How she escaped there Miska never knew. The only thing she knew was right now she had managed to run to the inside of the house and into its library and hid under the large desk there, taking some ten ghouls along the way at the cost of her depleting her prana. This library room was lit, somehow, and the creaking wooden floor coupled with the fair distance from its door to the desk meant that she could hear footsteps from far away. The ceiling-high rows of books would also help. They would need to search every nook and cranny of this labyrinth, Miska reasoned. The only downside was: there was no window behind the desk. Only a fireplace with a big portrait on top. Miska would not be able to go anywhere if the only door was blockaded. And unfortunately, that exactly was what the ghouls did. He could feel their presence increasing number by number. First two went into the room. Then two more. Then three. And before Miska knew it almost half of the remaining were roaming the library, blindly searching the spaces between the tall bookshelves for a prey they knew were there. Then the cursed lamp died. In this moment Miska’s thoughts was disabled from fear. His face was ashen pale. His fingers trembling. He did not think of how to fight them. He did not think of how to escape. The only thing he could think of- the only thing he cared about, was how he would go down having not accomplished anything. That, and how he would pray for the little time he had in his life. Unless, of course, an aid appeared in the courtyard and mow down the ghouls from right behind their lines. They were all focused inside the house now, and could easily discerned by their gravitating towards the library. Their defenseless back might prove to be a delicious target. *** I hope I didn't go overboard~ Tagging: genghis ! |
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Post by genghis on Oct 21, 2015 20:03:17 GMT
The great Khan prepared for his second deployment in the usual manner he had used ever since he had to enter battlefields. He looked for a spot where he could see the sky. Though he was not a man of faith, he was someone who embraced those who did and in his times of despair he had something he could always look upon, to lose his thoughts upon and to learn from. He could always count on being watched on by the Eternal Blue Sky. Even if the world became obscured by war, the sky would always be there. So Genghis always took a moment to bask to his Munkh Khukh Tengri, the sky he hoped that would shine peacefully over a peaceful world.
Genghis Khan was not concerned by being sent on missions that could barely qualify as errands. To most his reputation was that of a power-hungry barbaric warlord. He was far from that, though he had built that reputation for being bloodthirsty and war mongering, he was a man that with his closest aids carefully planned each war, each conflict, they studied their enemies way ahead before making contact. He was a man who understood that information gathering was a critical phase to solving any obstacle. For Chaldea's purpose he was unconcerned of being given such a lowly jobs nor he was concerned with being assigned to work with the less experienced masters. He saw it as an opportunity to both gauge the potential of the newer generations, the ones who were his future as well as the perfect opportunity to provide useful insight to his loved ones, for he loved all of humanity. Even if he had becomed something close to the potential deaths of humanity.
Though he was sure there were other servants better suited for tailing and observing his opponents. The Khan did not felt like he was out of placed. In his youth he lived as a hunter, he learned how to track, chase and study his opponents. That insight had given much to his strategical genius. So he felt that he would not be in a disadvantage during this assignment.
The experience of Ray-Shifting felt very much like being re-summoned in another place. The Ruined Fuyuki, though marred in curses and fire had no impact on the Khan. No feelings of remorse stirred within him when he gazed upon such destruction. That was the visage of death that he had fought to destroy forever and that he had used in his attempt to end all the wars. It was a vista he was infinitely familiar with. He wouldn't call it home, but he could see it as his fate.
Genghis Khan materialized on his own, he had appeared on a small yard or what had once been one on his own. Then he felt a tug on his senses. It was the feeling of a transmission coming from Chaldea.
Rider a malfunction occurred, your Master has been Ray-Shifted into the wrong coordinates. Secure and Extract, over. Hostile signatures are detected in that zone.
The Conqueror gave a casual sigh. There was no disappointment in him nor there was annoyance. He merely accepted the circumstances and moved on. "Understood mobilizing with full force." He replied, though a roger was given to him as acknowledgement, he did feel a tenseness on the operators reply. He must be aware of Rider's Noble Phantasm.
The Red Haired Khan wasted no second in summoning his foul steed. Though his face was passive, the Great Khan looked with no fondness at his steed. The thing that represented all he had opposed...
Fortunately for Miska she had been assigned with a Rider. The Class best suited for quickly mobilizing and for being able to travel great distances quickly. Also Rider knew of Miska's location thanks to their temporary contract. But even then there was enough distance between them that it took him four minutes to arrive.
For the unfortunate Miska, locked away and under a table the following events could be felt as horrifying. First there was a loud crash that made the old house creak and shake. It was Rider who with his Red Steed had fallen on the roof, through a floor and over the Ghouls that clawed at the Library Miska had found refuge at. But that was not what made the event horrifying.
What did was the miasma that, the feeling of something utterly cursed slipping through the cracks of the door. The Ghouls that weren't buried under Rider's mount, collapsed screeching and wailing as a miasma poured from the Red Horse. But it wasn't only that, the floor, walls and even the doors of the room deteriorated at an alarming rate, almost as if they were melting.
Then there was silence. For an instance.
In walked the Conqueror, his steed was gone as it was dangerous for all beings save Genghis. The expression of the fair looking Rider was tranquil, a small smile was on his lips and his red hair was tied into a pony tail. He wasn't tall, far from it the Conqueror was no taller than 5'6'', he was in fact smaller than the average man. But the air around him was both tinged with being majestic and commanding. Yet he was humble looking in his armor, his curved sword was plain to look at but that also made him intimidating and for the briefest of seconds there was something fiendish about him.
"Servant, Rider has arrived. I apologize for the delay Master."
The Ghouls pounced on him like feral, fearless animals. But they never touched the Khan. His swordmanship was not elegant, there was no elaboration or needless movement there were just quick cuts that efficiently cut any Ghoul that wandered into his range. It was the style of a killer, someone who dealt death and did not practice for martial achievement.
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Post by Miska on Oct 22, 2015 15:47:19 GMT
When the loud crash happened, even the fear-disabled Miska knew that he had to move if he still wanted to live. He did not know what happened or who was coming that might cause that sound. The only thing he knew was that there was an obvious danger far greater than the group of ghouls. A larger ghoul- or another monster- or even something worse… With one last cry, Miska bursted from his hiding, sword at the ready as he turned around to face anything that might have come… When his sight, suddenly, became completely blurred. _________________
There was a scene of complete carnage. Bodies, covered with fresh blood, laid everywhere. Some had lost a head, some limbs, some others were no more than pieces of flesh. In every direction were gunshots and screams of people.
The people, which just a moment ago stood erect in orderly rows, now ran away screaming, trampling their brethren in their confusion to flee. The Holy Celebration had become a feast from Hell.
Amidst the chaos the little girl stood. She seemed dizzy, afraid. A young girl with long black hair, one whose face seemed strangely foreign yet familiar.
And then she stood in a clearing, alone. The full moon was behind her. There was a faint aroma of autumn leaves from the forest around.
Slowly, surely, with an air of finality she turned around. Face to face. Eye to eye.
But, she smiled. Really smiled. Smiling so happily like a mother would to her one and only child. The moon’s light flashed at the-" ----! "The next thing Miska knew, he was standing with his back touching the fireplace, blindly waving his sword in front of him. He could see the wooden desk where he was hiding a few steps in front of him. And behind him was a red-haired figure, casually slicing off ghouls while still having time to talk to him. "Servant, Rider has arrived. I apologize for the delay Master."Rider…Rider… Servant Rider… What Servant? What delay? What Master? Miska wasn’t sure whether she would like to laugh to cry at the absurdity of the situation. Where had those bodies go? Whence came the scream? Where is the little- His shaking legs could no longer support his body. Miska’s knees gave up, giving a loud crack as they crashed to the floor. His sword fell from his hand and laid forgotten to the side. Only his body remained standing; shaking, like a willow tree in a storm. Tears were streaming down his face and dripping on his chin like pearls. But his eyes; his eyes was wide open, and that twisted grin plastered on his face had no trace of sadness in it.
“Rider…Rider...You came….”It was no more than a coarse whisper. Unnatural. Inhumane. Miska’s mouth was opened far longer than it took when one finished their sentence. Then unable to hold any longer, she buckled down and threw up all her breakfast on the floor. Milk. Apple. Beans and bits of meat. Some golden husks were obviously corn before. *** I think this is what Temujin's Noble Phantasm effect to the weak of mind looks like? Tagging: genghis |
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Post by genghis on Oct 22, 2015 20:10:08 GMT
Rider's blade arced decapitating the last of the Ghouls inside the Library. He was of course aware of his Master stumbling out of cover, he couldn't fault anyone from hiding in such a situation. Their reaction was one he had seen before, even if he was the one that caused. It was not the first time he had seen desperation, it was not the first time he was the cause for it either.
It was an imagine that he had caused nigh countless times. Men, Women and children cowering as he burned their homes, as his soldiers dragged them out of their homes, binding them and executing one after the other. The imagine of piling their corpses, razing their settlements, buildings and destroying any legacy they had. He knew that horror, and he new that indirectly he was the cause for what his master was going through. It was a horrid imagine, that he had seen and caused that he absolutely despised.
Even then, he did not turn away from Miska. He saw his Master and saw how they strained to voice a plead, a sign of relief. Though he did not hear what his Master whispered, instead another image came into his mind. He heard another voice, he saw another person for the briefest moment.
She had long black hair, her face was round and she had fierce eyes. She was his love. His true love.
"Temujin, you came."
Borte his love. That is what she said, after he rescued her nearly a year after her abduction.
He briskly walked toward Miska, even as she collapsed and began to throw up. The Khan didn't pause, instead he knelt and began rubbing his Master's back. It was firm but tenderly, his fatherly instincts taking over. Never mind he being a King, being THE Khan.
"Hush, Hush It'll be fine. Let it all out." He whispered calmly, he could stomach the smell and the sight. Though he didn't have much time for giving his Master comfort, behind them the remaining Ghouls that were outside all flocked into the library. The Khan sighed, his eyes turning hard. "Take your time Master."
"Begone." He said, coldly as he raised up. His blade angled and slashed as they came into his range. First two, then three and finally three more Ghouls were dispatched. There was no mercy on his strokes and cuts, even more so than before he moved out to eliminate the feral inhabitants of this ruined world.
By the time he removed the Ghouls from their lives, he turned around. He did not look with pity at his Master, instead his eyes were full of sympathy for the youth. "I'm afraid, I have no water for you Master." He said, leaning over the desk.
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Post by Miska on Oct 25, 2015 10:43:00 GMT
There was blood. There were screams. There was the sight of limbs being torn, of head being decapitated. There was flesh and bones and entrails and brains all scattered everywhere. Men were tortured, women were raped. One person, headless, lifted his hand in vain to his God. Such sight was too much for Miska. He was not a warrior, nor did he come from a violent family. Death and dreadful carnage was far from his consciousness. True, that Magus was always near to death. But that does not mean that all Magi embraced it. And to think, that this one person caused all of it. Even Rider would be able to feel Miska shivered as the warlord’s hand touched his back. When she was younger, Miska devoured all history books she could find. She knew of course about Genghis Khan and his ruthless endeavor, how his armies swept over the known world and disrupted peace for centuries to come. She did not like the man, but like any detached observer she read all his battles and all the people he has killed just like they were: mere facts in a book. So when she was given the card “Temujin/Genghis Khan (RIDER)” alongside her own “KOPPARSVARD, Miska” during the briefing she did not feel anything other than slight anxiousness on meeting the warlord. She had no idea of how his brutality really looked like. Until now. He was… afraid. Terribly afraid. Afraid of the smell of death. Afraid of the history of loss caused by this man. Afraid of the vision she just saw: of people lining in prayer; Of their deafening wails; of the sound of gunshots and explosions…. She vomited again. It took a while for Miska to move from his position. The remnants of the ghouls that were outside the room rushed to the destroyed library in an attempt to swarm the Warlord. By the time Rider was finished, Miska had sat up and leaned his back on the fireplace behind the desk and a few distance from his own vomit. The desk seemed, for Miska, a shield between him and the dance of death Rider played among the ruined book cases. He watched with pallid expression at the scene, his arms clutching the sword which lied obliquely against him. From his eyes tears were still streaming. But the eyes themselves, they were blank.
"I'm afraid, I have no water for you Master." said Rider said as he leaned over the desk. Miska’s eyes lifted to meet his gaze. And, in an instant, it was evident how the Master felt about her Servant. She… hated him. In her idealized eyes he was more of a beast than a Heroic Spirit. A man not fit to be called human. He was the most harm humanity had ever received. But it was also clear what The Master would do. Miska’s sense of duties united all. He averted his gaze and attempted to stand, but his shaking legs were still too unstable to support him. He fell again on his bottom. There he leaned his head on the wall, tired once more. His breath was still heavy, but it was rapidly calming down. Even a Servant would have to praise how effective Miska’s Magic Ciruits replenished themselves. Another cold sweat dropped from her forehead and to her chin. She closed her eyes. “What… What should we do?” he asked, unsure of who he was asking or even what he was asking about. _______________________________
At the same time, another presence entered the courtyard. “It” walked between the gates. “It” surveyed the unkempt yard and the derelict European-style mansion looming behind. “It” seemed to be looking for something. But “It” shook its cloaked head. “It” then turned around, its long robe stirring the dead grasses. As “It” made way in the streets of the residential area a silver symbol glowed on “It” back. Fleur-de-lis.
***
Miska's might be hard to deal with sometimes... Tagging: genghis
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Post by genghis on Oct 25, 2015 19:46:40 GMT
Rider watched his Master with a sympathetic look. Even if Miska was in a pitiful state, he wouldn't blame her. In fact he was in his own way rooting for the little Master that refused to give up. Even as their gaze met and the indignation and hatred poured from such a young person toward him, he did not change his impression. He was a king, he was a king that was loved just as much as he was hated. He was the man who embraced all of humanity, who sought to correct it from it's destructive ways but ultimately fell short of accomplishing his goal. He was branded the enemy of mankind, a foul harbinger to the end of humanity but even then, even with all those that he loved hating him, he could not change his love. Just feel sympathy for those he loved, because he understood that he was now the wretched personification of what he sought to stop. He could not blame, he could not get annoyed by this fact. "You have two options." He said, standing up. He moved toward the window that overlooked the courtyard. It was purely a coincidence he did so, it was nothing short of a lucky hunch that drew him to the window and where he could see their objective roaming. There was no mistaking the symbol on it's back. "You are exhausted, you fought against dangerous odds to survive after an accident occurred. You are entitled to call for rescue and rest." The Khan was speaking in the tone he had often used when he was giving out rulings to his subjects. He was clearing all doubts and giving as clear as paths as he could provide. Genghis Khan was a man who's authority was not indisputable and he was a man who based his choices by merit. He was a man who looked at people's merits, their values and would make his choice then. "You can contact Chaldea and be extracted, it is the wiser course of action. Our task is not critical" He said, turning his gaze at Miska. "The alternative is continuing our mission. The trial is not cold yet." He crossed his arms, he didn't mull on his words. In fact you could say he was testing the character of the young Kopparsvard lordling. He was working with a child, he had already summarized that he was not liked by the child. But he had to see if this child of magi could put aside their thoughts of him and continue the mission. No he cared not for how Miska felt about him, but rather if the little Master had what it took to continue. "Failure is an option and your worth will not be questioned if you wish to return." Rider stated as if it was a fact. "But if you wish to keep on going, then I will make sure you wont ever fall like this again." He didn't smile, he was almost pledging those words to the world to witness. "Yet you must prove to me now, here. That you have the will in you to continue."He wasn't offering a deal, he was informing that even if Miska wanted to continue he wouldn't allow for a half-assed conviction. He would send Miska back if she failed to satisfy his expectations. It did not matter if a grudge would be formed. Rider valued all human life and he would not waste it needlessly. He never did, not even as he burned entire civilizations to rubble. *** Don't worry it's natural for someone to react like that! Sorry for Khan's harshness, come on Miska! |
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Post by Miska on Oct 30, 2015 8:19:06 GMT
Miska kept her eyes closed. She was still afraid. She was still trembling. And although it had lessened considerably now that the danger is averted her legs still refused to support. So, she stayed quiet and swallowed all that her Servant said without even moving her head from its leaning position. The wooden floor underneath her felt strangely cold. Cold and evil. Like those words. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at the destroyed ceiling above. A small sigh from him clearly indicated what he was thinking, even without saying a word. ‘You don’t want to help…'Some people might get incensed from harshness. Some others would likely cry. Miska was neither. History of being bullied taught her to separate between words she would like to hear and words she would not want to hear. It was a useful trait given her vengeful nature, and it had helped her mind to live peacefully for years. The only downside was, being ignored usually made bullies even more angry. It didn’t help either that she was forced to act as a noble, and surely a noble could never ignore insults. Such was the conflicting nature of Miska Kopparsvard. A silence then fell between the two as Miska searched for an answer. One expectant, looking sternly at his Master. One disturbed, staring at the ceiling and clearly did not want to look at his Servant. A twitch from one of the Ghoul’s corpse, harmless, made a constant interruption of the stillness. Outside an evil wind shook the dead branches. Then, at last, Miska’s gaze turned down. She lifted her wrist and brought it closer to her lips. “Chaldea,” the sound was clear for all to hear, “This is Miska… Miska Kopparsvard. I am… requesting, an immediate extraction-“
*** The small fingers caressed the glass frame of the photograph. In it was a beautiful lady with long black hair, too young to be a woman, yet too old to be called a girl. She wore a winter coat with cap and gloves that hid how small she was. And she was happy. The photograph was of low quality, but there was no mistaken that happy expression she wore on her face. It was strange, the expression. It was as if her face was made to show sadness, and so the expression of joy was something that contradicted nature. Behind her were the tall and serene fjords of Nordland, and she was smiling to the camera with arms opened wide, as if wanting to embrace the world and all the happiness in it.
The small fingers screened the picture, stopping to linger on the lady’s smiling face. The owner of the fingers, a red haired child, looked up at her father’s chin on whose lap she had been sitting on.
“Father, what is Mother looks like?”
The father who was reading something, shifted his bespectacled eyes to his child. He had been reading some documents and his child looked lonely, so he allowed him to play on his lap. It was hot and humid outside the house, typical of an equatorial country.
“What is mother looks like?” His eyes was shining with endearing laughter. “Why, she looks just like that.”
The child pouted and was almost ready to answer back, “I meant-“ when his father’s fingers tipped around the photo and gently brought it forward. Together, the child and the father stared at the photograph.
“Your Mother was a brave woman.” He started. His tone was filled with love. There was also some regret there, but which the child failed to hear. “Kind, loving, and very brave. The whole world was against her, but she refused to give up. Never, ever, once...”
He smiled, a little sad. “…That was when Father met your Mother.”
His voice trailed off and he felt silent. The child, unsure of what to ask, kept his mouth silent.
The silence lasted a while until, slowly, the father bended down and kissed his child on top of his head. A kind whisper streaked the child’s bright red hair with each breath and made him ticklish. He giggled silently.
“If you are your mother’s child, Miska… You too should never give up.” ***
"..."
“…Yes? Please repeat Agent Miska. You are requesting...?”Miska paused in her words. Her lips were half opened. Her wrist was close to her mouth. But she stopped, and didn’t continue. “Repeat…”
Miska shook his head. “I am sorry. I was- checking. Checking the communication line. Thank you. Chaldea. Miska -out.”
With that he tried to stand up once again. This time his legs did not give way. He turned around and bended, to pick up where his sword was. “We will continue,” She said briskly as she straightened her back again. This time, there was another feeling other than hate in his eyes. “Where should we go, Rider? Do you know? Idea?”
He turned towards his Servant with expectant look at his face. It was not an acceptance of a deal. It was not even asking direction. He was asking his opinion like A Master would to his Servant. And it was clear also that whatever Rider would say, the final decision would be made by Miska and Miska alone. But behind his breath, there was another whisper, fainter than the air. Whisper that both state how he hated yet feared his Servant. The way he kept his distance told it clearly. “I have nothing to prove to you, beast.”
*** Such sloppy writing. I am sorry... Tag: genghis |
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Post by genghis on Nov 2, 2015 16:40:34 GMT
He did not mind the silence, his expression though expectant was kept neutral. His senses were focused on their surroundings, but his attention on the little Master. The little moment of peace they were having could be interrupted by more wandering Ghouls. He also didn't mind that his gaze was avoided, he was disliked and even more so, people tended to avoid being scrutinized. So it was natural that Miska would avoid him.
The Great Khan did not change his expression as he analyzed what the young Master would do. He was testing her resolve after all. His opinion did not shift to any degree as he was prepared to see Miska give up, it was as he previously said a natural and even wiser course of action.
Then the pause, the one that signified that moment of doubt, where pride and wisdom, fear and discipline met happened. It was a crucial moment for Miska, a moment that Genghis had seen and he believed it could change the course of a person's destiny. He had to briefly muse during this pause at his own experience.
"It was his thirteenth winter. He was on his own, the plains of Mongolia were more like a tundra as he traversed them. He had no horse, he was too poor, he was on the run. He had been hunting with his brothers, but Khasar had murdered his elder brother Begter, and so had tried with him. All for gathering the scraps of power their leaderless tribe had.
So he ran, he ran and ran until he had no water, no milk nor any food. Then it happened, an old friend of his father appeared. But in Mongolia alliances are temporary, he knew this and he was captured. Dragged by rope through the snow, mud and earth.
He was put in stocks and he was made a slave. Each day they tested to see how much he had grown, so that they day he became a grown man he'd be killed. He was an attraction."
I want to live.
I want to see my Borte.
I want revenge.
"Aaaah how I changed from that day" The Khan mused, he was not a man who lived for revenge anymore. He had forsaken it for love instead and found the world far more beautiful for it. Genghis broke his contemplation as Miska finished her struggle. He nodded, there was the wisp of a satisfied smile on him. Then he smiled openly, it was one that was acknowledging both Miska's willpower and her ill intent toward him. He was a beast, it was his burden for failing to achieve his dream. It was the curse that his beloved humanity gave him.
"We move, our target is still in the vicinity."
Without any ceremony he turned toward the toppled doorway his landing had destroyed, walked there and waited for Miska to approach, he looked up at the hole his steed had caused on the roof. He moved closer toward Miska. "The rooftop of this manor should give us a clearer image, of the Spirit's location and destination." He stated, replying his honest analytical view on their next course of action. "You are in no condition to climb up, nor in any condition to leave my side as I locate our target." He walked even closer toward Miska, it was pretty obvious that his intention was to carry Miska upwards. "Your insight is valuable and you chose to remain, so I will take you with me."
That was Genghis Khan's utterly irredeemable trait. He was a man who was sympathetic and loving of every person. But he was also characterized by his selfishness and he had given his word that he would not allow Miska to fall again. "Bare with me, it'll be over soon."
**
Sorry that Genghis is such an invasive person!
Feel free to describe the ascend to the rooftop
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Post by Miska on Nov 3, 2015 5:10:45 GMT
“Up?” Miska inquired, lifting his chin to see the hole in the rooftop. The cloudy sky above was dark, almost as dark as the ceiling itself. Already his mind had turned its gears, understanding the distance, the resistance, the many ways he could find a system to carry him up there and improve it if he could. He nodded affirmatively. “Okay. We’ll go up. Πιο αποτελεσματική."There was no way she would allow this- this Beast, this slayer of millions to carry her up. He probably reeked of blood! Her gesture at Rider’s movement towards her was slight, but it was clear that she defiantly wanted to keep her distance as far as she could. She did not need him anyway. System name: Jump. General Input: Kinetic Force. General Output: Movement….. 6. Improving the system via means such as…At that moment his knees gave up and he fell on them once again. He cursed silently, although it was only apparent from his clenching fists. It seemed that he had overestimated his prana replenishment capability. He was not very tired right now, but the earlier shock and the first time of him being so close to death made his body’s system did work as properly. He would need some more time to function properly again. Which leave one other option. Eyes glued on the floor rather than her Servants’ , Miska issued her first command this night in a disgusting embarrassment. “Rider, take –me- up there.”
The compliant Servant, damned compliant Servant did just so. "Bear with me, it'll be over soon." And Miska was right. As soon as The Servant got close to him and wrapped his arms around, Miska could smell the blood reeking of his hair. Yes. Blood. Of course blood. And the scent from his skin? More blood, surely. Although he did not remember blood smelling like scabiosa flowers. Or like the smell of fresh grasses, waving in the summer wind of limitless prairie. And clear sky, blue clear sky, with a single hawk flying above a circle tents within which joyous people toasting drinks among their horses. He felt like his father, somehow. There was certain gentleness and graces in those strong arms and chest….
“…”The next thing she knew, they were already on the rooftop of the mansion. The red cloud rolled over even redder sky above. On this height the wrecked Shinto was made clear that it was once a residential area. Squares and plots of land did look like living quarters, although the building inside did not, nor did the dead trees now jutting like forest of spears. A little down, just over the mansion’s gates, a red figure walked solemnly along the street leading to a crossroad to the left. A silver symbol was on its back. When Miska quickly separated herself from Rider, her cheeks were faintly redder, though no amount of critical observation on her face would be able to discern why. She stood on the edge and crouched herself, almost thinking that the figure would look up and saw them at any moment. “Is that our target?” he whispered, still in the belief that Vagrant Spirits were all-knowing all-hearing. “It does look different. Rider what-“ he paused a while, apparently unsure of whether he would ask this hated enemy of mankind. In the end he decided not to. “We will follow it. Rider, find a way down”
But meeting their target so early just with pure luck? This was extraordinarily suspicious for Miska. But unknown to her, her effectiveness boost on the Ray Shift coordinates earlier did not just amplify the magnitude of its supposed mistake. It had also unknowingly improved its coordinates transfer based on the already recorded location where the Vagrant Spirit had known to appear. Thus, in her own way, Miska had transported herself directly in the path of her Target. A blessing in disguise. The Vagrant Spirit, however, continued its way. It stopped near a ruined gate of another European-styled mansion, looked around, and went past its gates to the frontyard. *** OOC: Why sorry? I love character interaction! Lets make this interesting. Tag: genghis |
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Post by genghis on Nov 4, 2015 2:27:42 GMT
It was a fairly easy task to grab Miska and carry the young Master to the rooftop. He reacted to Miska attempt of climb up on her own, just as you'd expect a father to see their child trying to do something not quite at their reach yet. There was no condescending look, just a kind look. Though there was hardly any difference in height between the two. Genghis Khan had carried people before, his wife Borte, his lovers, his children, wounded men and sick women. He knew how to securely hold people in his arms. His superhuman qualities as a Servant also helped.
Up on the roof he quickly let go and allowed the Kopparsvard Masterling slip away. They quickly located the Vagrant Spirit further down the street, approaching another of the manors. He didn't put much thought into Miska's expression and merely quietly looked on at their target. His eyes thought not quite as remarkable as Servants of the Archer class, he could make out the shapes of small numbers of Ghouls moving and shuffling around. He after all had practiced Archery since he could walk and it was just as much a part of him as it was riding a horse.
"Correct." He stated, while Miska focused on their next course of action, he was quietly scanning his surroundings. Though he had already studied the infrastructure of the area with the maps supplied at Chaldea, and on route to rescue Miska he ascertained the changes between the maps and the destruction wrought upon the land. Since he had a moment of peace he committed the scenery to memory. Knowing the land, knowing what could be a blind spot, ideal ambushing locations, vantage points to better observe the Spirit, the general activity of potential threats. He took those quiet seconds to store as much information, not only useful for their current assignment but something to add into the reports back to Chaldea. To Genghis Khan, information was often one of the keys to success.
To his master suggestion, he agreed without any hesitance. After all it was their mission to tail the Spirit and find some reasoning to it's strange behavior. "I suggest we keep at least a distance of ten meters, with some cover between us, we don't want it to turn hostile." He added in, again he walked closer toward Miska. "Now, hold tight."
Once again he took hold of his Master, this time as if cradling Miska. One arm firmly supporting the back and wrapping up the arms while the other arm was holding the back of the legs firmly. Genghis flexed his legs and then leaped into the air, the air fluttered and rustled as the flew past the street and landed over a rusted lamp post that began to creak and fall, still Genghis was fast enough that they were in the air before it fell. He landed firmly near the crossroads, next to the bend. One of the blind spots from their previous position.
Something hissed, a Ghoul though startled pounced almost instantly. Though it's clawed hands never reached Genghis or Miska, it was instead blown back by a kick from the Khan, who didn't bat an eye in surprise at the surprise attack. He put Miska down and drew his curved sword, dispatching the creature before it could get up or make more noises. "Apologies." He said, behaving like a Servant should.
They were half a block from the gate where the Spirit had entered through several moments ago. "Lead on Master." He said, giving an encouraging look at his Master. He wouldn't change, even when his only companion had clear hostile feelings toward him.
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