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Post by Baba Yaga on Nov 10, 2015 21:56:08 GMT
"Bah!"
Baba Yaga grumbled as she strolled the hallways of Chaldea. This whole metallic structure and decorations made her feel they lived inside a refrigerator. The only difference was the cold was outside. Her robes dragged through the ground, and she did not appear to take any steps as she moved, a flesh and bone apparition. Since she was summoned by Chaldea, there have been very few things that do not get under her skin - both literal and metaphorically. The mindless walking, waiting for something interesting to happen, that annoyed her immensely.
However, this time, she had a purpose. She is hell-bent on summoning her house, even if in her room it is not possible. She is a creature of habit, a hermit in every sense of the word. She does not thrive in groups, but in solitude. In Chaldea, even if people avoid her, she still needs to interact with them. The mission system forces her to cooperate, she needs a little safe haven to reminisce about the days of yesteryear - or to at least be able to do her own cooking. She can only be rejected out of the kitchen so many times. They wouldn't let her go anywhere near the food supplies, they were afraid she would either taint it or add meats of suspicious origins in the menu.
They weren't all that wrong in thinking like that, so she didn't quite bother insisting.
Eventually she arrived at a door, one that stood out from the rest. While the other rooms were relatively close together, this one was quite further apart from anything. It must be a bigger one then. That was a basic logical assumption, but it went deeper than that. She had acquired an instinct in what regarded sizes and dimensions of a division, after all, she tinkered with them on a daily basis in life.
A sliver of interest crossed the witch's eyes as she leaned in, trying to understand what could lay on the other side. The sign outside the door read: Hoddmimis Dorms
She pressed the green button and the door opened swiftly.
Inside, several beds were laid throughout the large area, a dorm worthy of containing a small army regiment. The first few beds were empty, but the ones in the far back seemed to have people sleeping on them. A constant tone of white spanned the entire room and their inhabitants, her black robes standing out like cockroach in the snow.
"This could use a little color, but the ceiling seems high enough... this will have to do."
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Post by Hoddmimis on Nov 11, 2015 18:18:21 GMT
For the most part the dorms that the Hoddmimis Homunculi called home were quiet. It was not that they didn't speak amongts each other, they had enough personality to interact and for preferences to be formed between individual units. The reason why their dorm was peaceful was because they had all come to the mutual agreement of only using the dorm as a place of rest. They weren't fashioned to worry about stress or insecurities, so those with free schedules remained in the dormitory for one reason only.
At first when door slided open, all but one Homunculi were resting, sleeping or otherwise quietly reading. Only one looked up, there was change in expression but it did quickly stand up. The ones around it peered back at the doorway and quietly shuffled out of their bunk.
Glances were exchanged, not out of anxiousness but curiosity and they were all silently but extremely politely waiting for one amongst each other to take the initiative and address the visitor. If there was any analogy to be made, then the Homunculus were just like a herd of deers. They weren't spooked, but they were confused. It was exceedingly rare for someone to wander into their dorm. Not even their creator, Priscilla Eustan Reimar came over. It was natural she was tocked away on her workshop working on the next generations of the Hoddmimis project.
In the end one Homunculus stood up. It was one of the Manus, the only male series produced so far in the Project. His figure was pale and so was his hair, his outfit was a stark white pajama, the kind a hospital patient would wear. He was barefooted. His yellow eyes watched attentively at the old crone.
Instinctively all the Homunculi were aware that their guest was a Servant. The information which servants were summoned and their identities was something that each and everyone in that room had to memorize, it was to help synergy between them and the Servants they had to work with.
"May I be of Service?"
The Manus asked politely but with a monotone voice. Assuming that Baba Yaga was lost and needed directions.
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Post by Baba Yaga on Nov 11, 2015 23:25:21 GMT
Slowly, the group of men and women of pale complexion directed their gaze over to the servant. Surprise was painted over their faces, but she sensed no fear or disgust like she is used to receive. Such an odd reaction, so... artificial.
She could only distinguish between three faces, or better, three types of faces. Not even in her day did people copulate with enough intensity to produce so many equal sets of twins. This made her return the look of confusion back at the Hoddmimis, but it did not last for long. The witch remembered the third type of humanoid that roamed Chaldea. Homunculi. She knew they were produced artificially, but mass produced? This age has quite the resources. The best she could have mustered in her time was a rotting effigy of a disgraced slayer.
One of the bleached white copies addressed her, almost robotically. She took some time to respond, for she was imagining how they worked on the inside. Do their hearts beat as much as a human? Are their brains equally intricate? How much pain can they bear before fainting? All of the possibilities of discovery flooded her mind, and she stared at them like a starved wolf near a sleeping flock of sheep. They seemed quite tame and obedient... but would they accept the renovations she was planning? It's not like she could silver tongue them into anything - actually, it's best if one never learns the true color of her tongue. But it was worth a shot anyway. It's best if no conflict if necessary, but she is more than capable of handling herself even against this many bleached flesh statues.
She shook the murderous look off her face and put the best granny voice she could. Very slowly she began to distort her wretched features into a more pleasant look, just slowly enough to be unnoticed by the conscious mind of the observers.
"My word there are a lot of you! Yes, my dear, first of all, could you tell me what exactly this facility is? I hadn't been to this part of Chaldea so far..." She walked towards the man, looking around the area with cardboard confusion, masking her measures of the place. Moving a few beds away would suffice. The very summoning would do just that, so she did not foresee much logistic troubles. She couldn't simply ask them to leave to make room or to leave without contesting, and the sneakiest she could pull this off the best... Paying attention and assessing how many of these homunculi there were, she began exuding one of her lowest profile spells, a vapor of a numbing agent. It was an odorless - for a change - and near invisible casting. It would take a while to even make effect, and to remain undetected she couldn't expel too much at once. Even if it filled the room it wouldn't stun them at all, more like it would induce a sense of drowsiness when activated, just enough for an emergency escape.
"Secondly, i was wondering if you could help out an old lady with a simple request..."
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Post by Hoddmimis on Nov 17, 2015 13:39:07 GMT
Due to the very nature the Manus was assembled, spells of the nature of coercion tended to have a stronger effect on them. Their personality was to be servile and their role was that of an assistant. Even if it had noticed the old woman casting the spell nine out of ten cases it would have not questioned it, that was how deeply ingrained their servitude was in the Manus models. The other Hoddmimis Homunculus would have reacted differently, thankfully for Baba Yaga it seemed those further back haven't realized what was going on.
"This is the resting quarter for us the Hoddmimis." The Manus was so servile that it didn't even consider that Caster had read the door plaque outside. "We are Homunculus, at the Service for Servants such as yourself and Provisional Masters." The response was almost monotone, flat and taken out of a greeting card. It was clearly something that was memorized and utterly automatic.
At the sound of a request, another of the Homunculi drew closer. This time it was one that seemed to be a matured woman. It was a Mashyana, the ones that resembled their creator the most. But there was still something oddly inhuman and doll like about them. But at the very least looking at her green eyes would tell that she had more character than the Manus that was addressing Baba Yaga. "How may we be of service Caster?" She said, drawing closer and standing next to the male homunculus. There wasn't any suspicion on her voice either, nor any particular intent but there was definitivelly more life in her voice compared to the flatness of the Manus behavior.
One could easily mistake her for an authoritative figure among the same faced crowd, but there were four dressed the same as her, with the nigh identical expression to boot. There were more of the male figures present, like manikins they stood and watched. The child looking ones seemed to be the most wary ones or at least the most uncomfortable ones of the group of Homunculi.
"If it is within our limitations we can assist you." Mashyana finished speaking. Then that polite pause waiting for a reply occurred.
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Post by Baba Yaga on Dec 20, 2015 23:46:11 GMT
Outside she was retaining a collected demeanor, much like an elderly lady curious about the new gizmo of her grandchildren. On the inside she held back a cringe from all the servitude of these creatures. The children in the back were the only ones displaying what she was used to seeing. Fear would be to say too much, but at least some concern. The adults were almost comfortable in her presence, if anything they weren’t uncomfortable like the children were.
As the equivalent of a professional boogieman this aggravated her immensely.
“Well, you see, I feel awful homesick in this facility...”
She sighed, still trying to sell the helpless grandma act, but wondering how far she could take it before they called her on it. By now, some of her flesh marks had softened considerably and she decided she looked as unmenacing as she had to be. This performance was hurting her pride and she heavily considered if she really needed it. As far as she was concerned she would have no qualms in just summoning it regardless of consent or collateral damage. She couldn’t care less about the lives of others in any normal situation, much less these ink-deficient xeroxs. However, it’s not like she could run away with the house if other servants came into the picture… Besides, their helpfulness made her consider their utility in her schemes apart from an new material source.
She couldn’t think of any convincing lie –hermits are usually not that great at manipulating– so she decided to tell the truth. A very polite truth. It was such a strain in her personality that it made her bile revolt in her stomach. She was used to it, but usually it’s intentional.
“I would like to summon my home sweet home to me again, and I can... but since it qualifies as what you call a ‘noble phantasm’ I’m not allowed to…”
It’s not like she was lying about wanting her house back though, but she did not miss it simply because of some particular sentimentality with the furniture. Centuries of gathered ingredients of the most varied source and nature adorned its walls and filled her cabinets. She had quite a few new ones stored within her that she wanted to store away safely.
She maintained the flow of numbing gas as she spoke.
“It doesn’t occupy much room… but to summon it I need a little more space than the dormitory I was assigned and this place is tall enough… After this I’ll get out of your hair and my little hut will come with me, no one needs to know… I was wondering if you could indulge an old lady’s request…”
Any attempt to look innocent would be fruitless even if they knew nothing of who or what she was. Still, she decided to keep the paper-thin façade for a little longer. As to whether she would leave with the hut or not, she wasn’t all that sure. Since it can easily shrink its size to an average dog’s bulk it was possible for her to just go back to her dorm with a pet house. But as the nasty little spider she was, depending on the reactions of the homunculi, she might just assemble a new base right there…
Laying low would be the easy part; she could spend weeks cooped up inside her hen-house without much concern. But even as generally disliked as she was people would notice her sudden disappearance. A different strategy would imply her waltzing in and out of the Hoddmimis dorms occasionally, and that was the sort of thing that could draw the attention she wanted to avoid...
These next few minutes would decide the course of action for the witch…
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Post by Hoddmimis on Jan 1, 2016 22:53:56 GMT
More and more of the false humans gathered closer. It was one of those moments that a crowd like curiosity overcame the assembly of Homunculi, they respectfully remained silent but it was not an overstatement that all eyes were on Caster and the two of their brethren that were talking to them.
The Manus and Mashyana as well as those that were nearest listened to Baba Yaga's request dutifully. Some nodding other's just stared or looked at each other.
"I don't believe it would be a problem." Said the male Homunculi in his flat tone. His replicas nodded in agreement. "Have you filed in a report Caster." However, the dutiful Mashyana disagreed, or rather opposed the initial notion.
"Is there a cause for concern?" One of the little girls spoke out, crossing her arms and sitting down on one of the beds. Others particularly all the Manus looked at the leading Mashyana. "No, but any and all Servant activities should be reported." The female Homunculus replied calmly.
"We.could.get.into.trouble." Said one of the Manus, his voice was more cracked and if it was possible less humane than the one Baba had spoken too already. "Hm." The Pyrrha grunted and looked at the floor. "If we cause problems, we could be sent to reprocessing." said one of the Mashyana. "Mother, upset?" questioned the leading Manus.
"Doubtful." Another little girl interjected.
And so all of the Hoddmimis began to voice their thoughts on the matter. It was in an orderly fashioned, there was never any shouting but any keen eye would have noticed some frictions between all the look alikes. In particular there seemed to be a triangle of back and forth arguments between the those that looked like little girls and the male ones, with the adult female Homunculi acting as the rational judges.
If they weren't so orderly, they could be seen as children trying to come up with an goal...
Eventually, what was probably several minutes of ignoring Caster, the head Mashyana turned her attention toward the old crone. "Apologies." She said, then quietly glared at the other Homunculi that were still chattering. "We have reached a census."
"We will allow use of this space for summoning your home."
"However, we do not want to cause trouble for you or the rest of Chaldea. So we ask if you can maintain your house within this dorm. We will accommodate for your comfort.
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Post by Baba Yaga on Jan 4, 2016 0:12:31 GMT
The witch stared through the pale woman that directed her the answer to her question. Her face was of a sharp disbelief, head tilted to the left and a mouth ajar. It was even enough for her to stop the flow of the numbing gas out of sheer shock. They actually agreed. Was her act actually successful? Were they not aware of the things she does inside that hut? Had they no sense of self-preservation? Putting it in modern terms, she felt as if she was carjacking a vehicle and the owner tossed in the keys.
Oh well, she would have enjoyed a little more resistance, but if this could be done silently all the better. Now if it was going down peacefully that was a different matter… what would it take to convince them to walk in the hut the witch wondered…
After a few seconds of silence she shrugged and resumed her speech, still talking like your average grandma, although she couldn’t change her ravaged voice. Right now it was a weird mix between sweet words and the sound a smokers corpse would make if it could expel air out of its destroyed throat.
“really dear? Well, that’s just wonderful!” she clasped her hands together and produced an eerie smile out of her jaws. She intended it to be unthreatening but the look of disgust of one of the children said otherwise. Good, she was afraid she looked too nice. Roaming excitedly to the center of the barracks, passing through some of the albino doppelgangers, she took visual measures to see the best place the make herself a(t) home.
The air in the room began to quiver as she gathered the mana necessary for the summoning. It was a motion you could not only see and feel but also smell. At first it was a harmless scent, like a forest at dawn, when the little drops of dew still lay gently on the grass and trees. It soon escalated into a harsher odor, like moldy wood next to a bonfire. After that it became a nauseatingly warm aroma, as if the fire was fed by a freshly killed carcass.
The men in the group seemed undisturbed by this sudden change, but the women began looking at each other with apprehension and the children were undeniably uneasy. They tried to get her attention but she was deaf to their pleas.
For this particular spell there are two ways to go about it:
Mid battle she can just summon her chicken legged hut with a snap of her fingers and it will drop from the sky, ready to fight, but it is hard to get inside it. If she has time to prepare however, the process can get a little more complex, for you see, Baba Yaga takes the saying “Home is Where the Heart is” quite serious.
Unfortunately for Hoddmimis, she wasn’t fighting anyone.
Before anyone of them could dissuade her from doing this so rashly she plunged her sharp twisted claws through her chest. Blood sprayed forward, barely missing one of the men in front of her but soaking another and pooling beneath her feet. The strike was such that the bulge of her fingers could be seen from behind her back. Dropping a few ribs in the process she took out her hand from inside herself and there pulsed the still beating heart of the witch, gushing even further amounts of scarlet fluid. The organ wasn’t the shade of meat red one would expect but a darker, purplish hue.
In a struggling, gurgling breath she inhaled deeply. The collapsed lungs expanded and one could see the bones regenerating from the biological wreck that was her body. Her eyes had rolled behind her sockets and the yellow-white sclera was accompanied by a beam stretched from ear to ear, drooling what one would hope was blood. She lost strength in her arms as she recovered, dropping her heart in the puddle in front of her. The fluid rapidly dried and darkened several shades, adjusting itself in a square shape with the organ in the dead center.
The now not so white homunculi were backing away from the grotesque show, and rightfully so.
The dry spot expanded through the floor, picking up moist dust in it's path. The little slab of meat sprouted two legs and began to take the shape vaguely reminiscent of a baby bird. Were it an actual animal it would be begging to be put out of its misery. From the squares edges the walls sprang, displacing anything near them. The little chicken began to grow unevenly as it was enveloped by the wooden dividers and the heat it produced made the dormitory feel like it was a sauna inside a swamp.
In less than thirty seconds the summoning was complete, the hut standing ominously in the middle of the barracks, the remnant smoke of the spell giving that classical foggy aura of a haunted house. The legs were nowhere to be seen, they were hidden inside it, cocked and ready to erupt, but for now Kuritsa Dom was asleep…
Baba Yaga had also vanished from this scene and Hoddmimis was one member short in their ranks…
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