|
Post by Miska on Nov 19, 2015 7:17:31 GMT
“Of course they’ve lost me.” replied Miska with hardly any hesitance. The lordling had grown, it seem. “I’d say they also cannot see very far here. If Vagrant Spirits actually see…”“Of course you did an okay job too, Archer.” he said later as if in an afterthought. “Keep doing it.” Actually, he had meant “fine” job but picked a less fitting word as always. Archer’s coordinates confused her, though. Northwest? She was sure she was going south all the time. But she guessed what Archer said was right. Being in this all red and murky water with limited line of sight surely had confused her orientation. It was good that she was with a Heroic Spirit that seemed dependable. And an Archer too. He should be able to lead her through the correct path. So, when the next silvery arrow floated down a few feet away from him, Miska turned heels and started following the faint glow. When he got near, the arrow had already dissipated, but another arrow came down in front of him to show him the next direction. In this slow, mana-draining way would Archer lead Miska through the murky darkness. How could he knew there was another Noble Phantasm 15 metres ahead in this blinding red? Miska did not know, but he had no choice but to believe in him. “Hey Archer. Shoot a little closer to me or I won’t be able to see the arrow.” It was true. If the arrow landed outside Miska’s line of sight he might missed it and continued walking in the earlier direction, which might be disastrous. Even with Durendal- Durendal! Then she suddenly remembered what he was holding, and her tone became obviously proud, like a child opening her Christmas present. “And you know what? This sword I am holding- This sword- guess Archer- It’s Durendal! The Legendary Holy Sword of Paladin Roland! With three relics of the Saints! I heard a voice saying so, when- when the sword went bright and glowing before." The amazed glow in her eyes even seeped into her voice. "Isn’t it amazing? Durendal really exists!”“I have trouble being surprised, considering just who and what we are. You shouldn’t be surprised if you see Roland later on in Chaldea.”Sheesh. Such a snide attitude. Miska pouted. But what he said was absolutely right! The prospect of meeting such a great hero would surely be attainable with this FATE system! Miska silently prayed then and there for Count Roland to be summoned as Servant. He would be thousand-fold better than the heathen Genghis Khan! “And Master, I don’t think I need to say that voices in your head are to be taken with a grain of salt. Especially considering the quality of the water you’re walking through. Try to keep the goal in mind.”Archer’s last response elicited a small laughter from Miska. One could not help but feel being taken not seriously. “Voices? In my head? Oh, Archer. Did you not know about talking swords? Swords that can talk?” And he stated it in a gleeful way as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I am sure Durendal was one. It surely was angry being in this devilish water, right?“ He waved the sword in satisfaction, creating rippling in the water. “It wasn’t in my head at all! How could you not know such legend, Archer? What kind of Heroic Spirit are you?”She didn’t mean to offend, but a happy Miska was prone to wrong words just as the frightened Miska. And seeing that they had fifteen meters to cover in this snail pace across thick blood-red mud dotted with junk with no moving things in sight, it seemed she and Archer would have much time to talk. *** I am fine, don't worry~ Hope everything is well with you! emiya
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Nov 20, 2015 8:51:35 GMT
I can't help but chuckle at that. It seems that Miska's pride wasn't going anywhere soon. “I am grateful to have a master as resourceful as you are, then.” It wasn't totally in jest. Miska had been able to adapt to numerous horrifying occurences in his time at the bottom of the river, happenings that could cause lesser people to panic and as a result, die. Miska had kept a cool head, one of the traits I had come to rely on most once I had gotten around to growing up. At her admission, I don't comment. That was far more recognition than I needed.
As she continues to follow my arrows, I correct my shots to better ensure I don't lose Miska's field of vision. I had to make sure that Miska stayed on target...without careful guidance, an errant Master could easily lose their way. It had happened before, in less difficult and less consequential circumstances...even if the earlier Master was more of a dunce. I had to make sure I didn't lose Miska to mere foolishness.
At her jubilant cry at holding Durendal, I feed into her good humor. She'll need it to get through the murk. Perhaps once she's returned I can tell her the exact circumstances of the sword in her hands...or perhaps not. Plans made assuming things that might easily not happen can pay off immensely, but they can also leave you with nothing.
Still...the voices she heard are still cause for concern. It could be a trap...whispering from the corrupt Heroic Spirit meant to embody all the world's evil, trying to drag Miska down to her death in one way or another. Or perhaps Durendal's prototype could actually talk. The only way to know for sure would be to project it, and that would be a flagrant waste of resources. “You're making a lot of assumptions. Be careful and follow my arrows. We can examine Durendal together, in detail, once you've made it out alive and with the mission complete.” Her insult was amusing. “I'm the kind of Heroic Spirit that wants to see his Master make it out of here alive. If you think that isn't proper, feel free to let me know.”
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Nov 21, 2015 9:12:26 GMT
“I don’t see –that- as improper.” Answered Miska, obviously scrambling for an answer. She was always weak for sarcasm, weak both in detecting it and in countering it. She frequently found herself at loss of what to say, a weakness she desperately tried to overcome to perfect the lordly image she strove –forced- to be. Despite that she was easily hurt and easily intimidated, which made a self-poisoning combination. There was a brief silence as Miska was at a loss of what to say. He wasn’t afraid of offending a Servant. He was more afraid in making himself look foolish in front of them. “But –Archer- you didn’t answer my question. Before.” He said, trying hard to remember anything. Anything. “When you were alive, did you also have parents? What did they look to…to…be able to raise a Hero?”There was a honest curiosity in there, like a child asking a famous artist what to do to become like them. Judging from her slow progress, it seemed it would take close to ten minutes to detour around the Durendal’s ship and arrive at whatever it was Archer had seen. With words barely lasted a minute, there would be plenty of time to talk.
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Nov 22, 2015 2:20:45 GMT
I blink in surprise. "It seems I misunderstood you Master. In that case, allow me to speak clearly." I assumed that Miska already knew about my peculiar situation...or at least, was commenting on the personality I conveyed. In this case, though, Miska was actually just trying to find out more about me. An odd thing to do...but not for someone in her situation, having to grow up too fast and too much, trying to find more to anchor her.
"I am a Heroic Spirit in the absolute loosest sense of the word. I am not recorded in the Throne of Heroes, nor have I been selected for my feats. Instead, I function as a cleaner of Alaya, sent to preserve humanity by purging key locations. Similar to what Chaldea's goal is." Eerily similar, in fact. If it weren't not for the unison in function and purpose, I would likely not have been able to be summoned. The last time it happened required someone I was connected to, using a catalyst entwined with my very life.
With the basic facts explained, I go on to address her direct question. But what could I say. "I suppose it matters about who you define as a parent. I have no collection to those I was born to: They had a boy that died in a horrible disaster. The person who crawled out of the fire and wreckage was someone entirely different, someone empty. No relation to the boy that must have lived happily just a day before."
I continue, despite the somberness of what I said. I had no memory of my parents...but I did have a father. "I was found and raised by the one I called Father. He was...I suppose the best way to describe him would be tired. He wasn't old, but he was beaten, he was weathered...in a real way, you could call him empty, though different from my own existence." I smile as I continue. He often talked about how he tried to be a hero, about how pointless it was. About how it was a young man's game, and even then, it was impossible to save everyone. But...I saw his eyes when he pulled me out of the barren wastes of my former home. I forgot how they looked, for the longest time. That pure joy, at being able to save someone else...it was beautiful. I wanted to be the kind of person that had eyes like that."
I laugh. "And that's what led me down the path of a Hero. I would recommend you do something less painful and more productive with your life, though. You'll have a better time for it." Sighing, I stop enjoying the conversation, and go back to the facts of the matter. "If you want to talk more, I would prefer to do it when you're not in mortal peril as much as possible. It makes me nervous to have you down there."
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Nov 27, 2015 8:27:57 GMT
It might mattered little for Archer. But for Miska, alone deep under a reddish estuary with blood red mud that sucked her foot every step; for her able to hear something was a great comfort. Just being silent listening to the sucking sound the riverbed made would have been maddening. That was why she jumped to conversation the earliest time she could. So far, her attempts were futile. Until now. Miska listened to Archer like he had listened to him before, cordial enough to let out a hum or an agreeing voice whenever there was a pause. He listened to Archer explaining his child-self crawled out of fire. “That…must be hard for you. I am sorry.” He kindly remarked. A genuine condolence. Archer, it seems, like most other Heroes had a hard childhood. Which made Miska wonder. Must all great people had a hard time growing up? What would people like him be, then? He had a father, a grandfather, a rather ordinary childhood… What would that made him later on? And so, Archer went on about who he called Father. Even as unclear as his voice was to Miska, she could still hear some tinge of feeling in his words. Archer was very much influenced by his father, just like her. She could imagine him smiling too when speaking about his Father, just like her. Surprisingly, Archer was much more ‘human’ than Miska originally thought. “I am really nervous down here too, Archer,” He replied flatly, “That’s why I -want- to talk.” ‘you know’ But he didn’t add the last part. Miska’s politeness tend to come at the strangest of time. “Thank you for your advice, though” She added some time later. Her hopping on the mud continued in monotonous rhythm. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to be a Hero. I want to be a noble and dependable Lord, just like my father.“But I think you succeeded though, Archer." he continued. "You wanted to have eyes like your Father -I haven’t seen closely –but let me see your eyes when we return.” He smiled, “They must be beautiful, too -”What made her said that? Miska did not know. Perhaps it was her personal bias that “Servants are successful Heroes” so she automatically assumed that Archer had met his goal. In any case there was a sound of her being surprised by herself and Miska was silent for a while. Another step …another step… another step… another step… another step… Miska was getting closer. *** Meanwhile, at the point where Miska was headed, there was a disturbance in the water. Miska could not see it, being underwater, but Archer would be able to. A ripple, rapid waves… It was as if Miska getting closer triggered some sort of spell with a radius of a few metres around the Noble Phantasm. And then a big water column shot up, sparkling red even against the reddish sky. Judging from its height, it must be at least 5 meters high above water and 3 meters wide. And it was getting larger. And In the middle of it, only a silhouette but clearly seen by Archer’s eyes, was another Invisible Spirit holding a thick wooden spear almost 2 metres long. Kaumaile. The Spear of The Sea. Said to be able to control the very waves themselves. “Archer, the current seems to be getting stronger. Its going to where I am going.” The amused voice of Miska was heard, “You are not leading me to a giant whirlpool or something, right?”Apparently, Miska down there only felt the current getting stronger. How would he reacted knowing he was being sucked to an unearthly pillar of red water? *** emiyaI am so sorry for the lateness...
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Nov 30, 2015 19:21:46 GMT
Her admission made sense, I had to admit. I didn't consider what Miska's feelings on the matter would be. I assumed that she simply needed to be prod through the mud because of a lethargic or draining effect it might have on her...when instead, her talks were used as tools to focus and press through her apprehension. "I apologize again. Please, if you would like to talk, I will be happy to respond. Just remember...the sooner you're out, the less you have to be nervous about in the first place."
As she states flatly that she doesn't want to be a hero, I smile. That pain won't trouble my Master. And her goal is something clear, that she can accomplish. "Good. I'm sure being an adequate Lord, following in your father's footsteps, is something easily within your grasp. You certainly seem to have the makings of it already. About the only thing impeding you is somewhat thin skin. If we spend more time together, that should sort itself easily." My...tendencies would likely cause her to toughen up. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, it seemed.
When she turns the tables on me, I'm taken aback. I can't keep a smirk off my face as I fire a shot at a reforming wraith to cover my momentary lapse. "You think so? Well, I'll certainly let you have a look, though I'm not sure you'll find what you want. Very few people would call me a successful person.
However, danger immediately comes to his mind as the golden glint becomes visible in the hands of some invisible phantasm. Unlimited Blade Works records the weapon instantly, and Archer has an immediate understanding of the spear and its capabilities. "I have a sight of the Noble Phantasm. It's causing the distortion. Be on your guard!"
There's no time for the aiming...and even with Hrunting, I would need to aim. The only thing I can do is "know what my target is." And fortunately for me, there is a weapon that can always strike it's foe in the heart, even if aimed incorrectly, through manipulation of causality.
"To think that troublesome person would actually be good for something..." I muse as I project Gae Bolg in my hand. Instantaneously warping it into an arrow and breaking the phantasm, I fire the weapon above the water, before turning to face the Noble Phantasm and it's ghostly wielder. "Gae Bolg!"
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Dec 6, 2015 9:59:40 GMT
The red spear, the Spear of Forty-Nine barbs was launched. It flew over the turbulent red waters like a red comet and straight to the center of the pillar of water. And promptly dissolved the instant it touched the rising torrent. Perhaps it had to do with the spear’s own properties. Perhaps it was the other’s spear’s power. But in anyway, there was a certain reason why the Lab concluded that only the holiest of relics could survive touching the cursed water. The outcome was never established in the first place. But if so, how could earlier Broken Phantasm entered? Maybe there was another factor in how the river water worked? No one knew at that time. And certainly not Miska. Her panicked voice could be heard in Archer’s ear. “Dis- distortion?! What kind of distortion, Archer? Is it making a giant whirlpool? What is it like? Explain!” From the poor Master’s perspective, deep in the bottom of the estuary, she only knew that there was a strong current all rushing towards the spot where her Servant said the second Noble Phantasm lied. Strong enough that she had to bend down and somehow gripped the mud with his hand. “I cannot take a step like this, the current will suck me.” He sure sounded like he was struggling.
And worse, both of them could feel that their mana was running low. Miska had good Magic Circuits, but it was never as outstanding as a certain twin-tailed Master. Spamming Broken Phantasms would likely not the best idea even if a Servant can tap its own mana reserve. Moreover, Miska needed mana of his own to use his spell should anything went awry. As if that wasn’t enough, the silhouette in the middle of the pillar of water realized something had hit it. The pillar, the rising column of ever-expanding water mass moved towards Archer, inconveniently passing exactly overhead Miska should its path stayed the same. It was moving slowly, but thinking that their distance was not very far it would not take a very long time.
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Dec 6, 2015 20:34:38 GMT
I stand back in stunned amazement. The torrential water rendered my Broken Phantasms unworkable...somehow. Even to the point of ignoring the causality-altering effects of the Hound of Chulainn's spear. This wasn't something that could be fought against, at least not by him. If she were here, perhaps she could do something about this...but then, that was just idle speculation. Is this really the extent of my abilities? To stand on this little island out in the middle of the mud and let the tempest take my Master?
"The whirlpool is the distortion! It's shaping the water into something I can't pierce!" I don't panic...or at least, the panic doesn't reach my voice. My mind spins faster and faster, coming up with hypotheticals and possibilities, but the grim reminder of the flagging prana source sounds in the back of my mind. I can't afford to waste time testing possibility after possibility, my Master needs help now...and then it hits me. "I'm going to need you to hold on a bit longer, and then be prepared to be tethered back. You may be extremely low on mana after this. If you have any other ideas that you yourself can do...I would very much like to hear it." There's no time to try and find the correct possibility...so I'll just try all of them at once.
"I am the bone of my sword."
As I begin the incantation to deploy the Reality Marble, I make one final projection before investing everything into that single strategem. It's a very simple, easy, light projection...one I've trusted countless times. I drop my bow, and allow the Yin and Yang swords to come into my hands. Holy blades, crafted with materials that exceed what is possible by ordinary humans through the power of human sacrifice...if anything can withstand the cursed water and strike their targets, it's them. I reinforce them to slice through water like air, and then continue my chant.
"I have withstood pain to create many weapons...and yet, these hands will never hold anything..." I hold off finishing the chant, giving Kanshou and Bakuya just a bit more time to try and strike the target. If that fails, well, it'd be time for the all or nothing gamble.
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Dec 9, 2015 15:25:35 GMT
Whether or not the Twin Blades of Yin and Yang actually penetrated the water pillar was up for discussion. It was possible that they got through the cursed water but then deflected by the hallowed spear. But in any case, they seemed to be just as ineffective as Gae Bolg. They disappeared soon without ever returning. And the Master, too, was about to disappear in anger. Her bark was clearly audible even with the sound of rushing water now flooding their communication line. “WHAT whirlpool? HOW large? Where? WHAT shape its like-“ it was at this junction that modern films usually add “damn it!” but Miska was too refined for that. Even though his tone clearly shouted so. “You did not explain ANYTHING, Archer! How am I supposed to have ideas?!
“And please, by God tell me what you are about to do with MY prana!”From Miska’s perspective, her reaction was understandable. She was several meters under a cursed water, in a slow heavy suit that would stop moving the moment her prana was depleted. She was walking very slowly in a gum-like mud blood-red in color, surrounded by hostile spirits that aimed to drain her empty and some of them even wielded powerful weapons. And now, she was suddenly sucked in a very strong current from where and to where she could not see, with her only information from the Servant who could see was only “Noble Phantasm. Distortion. Whirlpool. Can’t pierce.” The very idea of piercing a whirlpool sounded absurd for Miska, so it was clear why she was completely frustrated by the lack of information. Information that might very well decided her life. But it seemed that he took Archer’s suggestion. Although clearly more from lack of choice than actual understanding. Chanting his spell once again, he concentrated on making himself the most effective system to “bury his legs deep in the mud.” In just several seconds, he was already thigh-high in the mud. He hoped it was enough… Unless the mud itself was upturned, there would be no current strong enough to uproot him from the gum-like mud. Meanwhile, the pillar of water kept moving like walls of judgment, towards the sunken ship where on its prow stood the bowman. Even with Reality Marble, it was doubtful how much the mighty fortification could be affected. Not even the primordial Sea Giant could pierce the protection of the sea. And it happened generations after the original one.
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Dec 10, 2015 0:53:44 GMT
Miska’s questions drilled into me like a curved dagger. I can’t answer them. I can see through the water’s curses with some difficulty, but between that and the whirlpool...I can’t get a solid visual. “I am giving you all the information I can! I don’t know! You’re the one with eyes on target.” There was only two times in my entire life and unlife I felt so helpless: The first when my ideals and effort were first insufficient to protect those I cared about, and the second when I was faced by those ideals I abandoned.
“There’s something inside the whirlpool that’s causing the turbulent water. I can’t get any more information...so I’m going to bring it up where I can get at it with my bare hands. I suppose I can also clear out any ghouls left in the water or reforming while I’m at it.” My words are still cryptic, but she should be able to tell the enormity of what I’m going to do. “I’m going to deploy a Reality Marble. Hopefully, it will allow us to extract what’s causing the whirlpool. If not, at the very least, it will guarantee you are safe.”
With that, my nerves settle. The unknown has been dealt with, and I have a plan, if one that’s fragile. Seeing that my twin blades had no effect, I close my eyes, and the palm of my hand appears to catch fire. “So as I pray...Unlimited Blade Works.”
Fire clears out the water, and the next thing he and Miska see are an endless desert battlefield, littered with legendary sword after legendary sword. The water is all gone. As the one who has created this world, I have absolute authority of what I include along with it. A huge, uncountable number of blades rise, and skewer any ghouls that are active or in the process of reforming.
I turn to the person I place in front of me. “Miska. Are you okay?” Mud is no longer present on her, though her formal wear is still drenched with water. I have placed the cause of the distortion a large distance away from us, should it prove to be a threat, but not so far that I can’t deal with it nearly immediately by hand, or immediately by sword.
|
|