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Post by Thaddeus Adeodatus on Mar 16, 2016 15:44:32 GMT
The summoning had been more than hurried. He'd been asked - no, snatched out of the corridor by simple fact of already being geared for an assignment, as he'd been from arrival, and hastily thrown inside their machinery with three other Servants who were surely just as confused as he'd been. Granted a small folder with the mission briefing and short summaries on the identities and skills of the Spirits who'd serve under him for the duration of this, Thaddeus silently analyzed the situation.
Be it fate or intention, it was undeniably convenient he'd been chosen to lead this line of defense. An agent of the Holy Church oft fought ghouls, be them made by a Magus specialized in Necromancy or failed attempts at making Dead Apostles, and thus he had more than enough experience fighting such mindless creatures in large numbers, well aware of their core weaknesses and strengths. Unfortunately, the nature of this mission meant two things: first, that he wouldn't be able to carry Black Keys into the battle, what would no doubt have proved convenient; and second, that the most dangerous attribute ghouls could have, numbers, were exactly the one this group had in abundance.
Estimated at four thousand. Thaddeus' record had been fifty, and even then they were fairly well-distributed inside a building and he had other Executors to help with the task. Clutching at his Formal Wear, minimized to its crucifix form around his neck, the man of faith sung a silent prayer as the CHALDEAS system did its, quite literal, magic.
Analyze assets.
He can carry two spells into the past, and he'd chosen Propagation and Sanctuary. Propagation could theoretically destroy large amounts of zombies with long range prana bursts, but given the size of the horde, that wouldn't be a very efficient strategy. He'd have to sustain three Servants and fight for a long duration of time, what meant mana conservation was paramount. Thus, this spell would be better used as an aid to melee combat, a plan that carried more than its fair share of risks, but the best option is the best option, no matter how dangerous it may seem.
Sanctuary's use, however, is questionable. Standing still waiting for healing and making use of the protective shield would go directly against the whole point of this assignment, to hold back the sheer number of ghouls to prevent the main party from being overrun during combat. Furthermore, only one of his Servants truly fit the archetype of a frontline fighter, and even then his main attribute was mobility. Thus, Sanctuary would be reserved for short bursts of protection, something he'd seldom need when faced with enemies as mindless as simple ghouls.
Oh, yes, the three Heroic Spirits. He had to consider their separate strengths.
Baba Yaga, Caster. Greatly unpleasant Heroic Spirit given the short rundown of her skills and background, but nevertheless, incredibly useful in this situation. Her house could serve as a strong frontline and guard against the bulk of the horde, and its inhuman nature would no doubt prove useful against enemies whose attacks more often than not can only penetrate organic flesh. And though it is a thing of instinct, Thaddeus had a feeling they'd have no need for argument during this activity.
Robert Loxley, Archer. His history greatly inspired him, that a man of faith find such strength after a simple prayer, that hope would lie so soon after disgrace. While he bore hopes over their compatibility in terms of personality and methods, his efficiency during this battle would greatly depend on his own skills with the bow and arrow. Whereas a normal archer would be of little help against such swarms of foes and his first Noble Phantasm was that of an Anti-Unit variety, his second would provide them with a way to hold back the line should it be pushed far too forward.
Edward the Fourth, Rider. In life a brute of a tyrant who laid waste to the French with nothing but utmost mercilessness during the One Hundred Year War, with him laid Thaddeus' hopes for the success of this quest. With his first Noble Phantasm the first swaths of ghouls could easily be dispensed through the force and fire alone, both fine ways to dispense of the foul creatures, yet if said flames combined with Yaga's Gunk, it could result in a wall of fire that disposed of their foes for them. Furthermore, while it was only a theory, there was a chance his second Noble Phantasm could somehow affect at least part of the offending army, although the effectiveness of such a plan was up in the air given the doubtful sentience of their enemies' kind.
The party materialized, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Thaddeus Adeodatus had come clad in simple black clothes, similar to the uniforms of the Holy Church's Executors, having no time to change into his usual battle attire. His Formal Wear still bore its minimized form around his neck, and overall the man seemed to be dressed much more formally than needed. Opening his eyes, he breathed in before taking in whatever horrid sight awaited them.
A landscape of red, filled to the brim with the dead.
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Post by ROBIN on Mar 16, 2016 18:47:18 GMT
Everything about this screamed impending disaster.
Robert had been ordered to join a quickly assembled team at the last minute to back up the main offensive unit deployed by Chaldea to end this little Grand Order. Not only was it humiliating that he wasn't considered strong enough to be put on their main team, being treated like second class goods despite the fact that it was Chaldea that had summoned him in the first place, but now he was being asked to clean up their messes. Still, it wasn't like this was the first time - It was the duty of the Counter-guardians to clean up after humanity's mistakes.
Caught off guard, he was brought into this unit alongside Rider and Caster without much of a choice in the matter. He was, after all, just a tool to these people, what did they care about his opinions about this mission? They were then unceremoniously dumped into the CHALDEAS system with little more than a momentary briefing on their job. He had paid little interest to this final mission in Fuyuki - Those men on Team A were taking out the main thing that had caused these monstrosities to spring forth, but without a direct part to play in those proceedings there was no point in actively pursuing them.
Now? Now he wished he had spent more time looking into the situation whilst he'd had the chance.
The feeling of being sucked through time and space was one that no man alive could ever forget, even working for Alaya it was a nauseous feeling that turned his stomach as he was shunted violently through the first, second, third and fourth dimensions simultaneously. Yet the pain of maintaining a physical body through the ordeal made it so much worse, as all that weight was able to press on his gut and physically make him want to throw up the meagre scraps of food he'd been able to put into his stomach today.
Thankfully, the sensation in his gut was overwhelmed by a much stronger sensation - the smell of rotting flesh.
"Mother of god..."
A horde, he had no way of being able to put a concrete number on its size, was heading towards the bridge, aiming to wipe out the people who were facing off against... against... A succession of swearwords quickly poured from his lips as he turned to look at the being that was hovering over the city, its countenance enough to make most men shudder. But even so, Robert did not even quake slightly, for he had seen the roster of who was going on that mission, and he was able to see who was standing there, in the middle of the crowd of servants, preparing to face off against it.
The Man in Crimson, his beloved brother-in-arms Shirou Emiya. If they had killed divine beasts together, this dragon would be no different. He longed to be over there giving him support, but if his job here was to ensure his safety he was alright with that. A cocky, all-too-confident smile spread across his face as he turned his back to the enemy for a second, before bellowing at the top of his voice.
"GIVE THEM HELL, HONEY! YOU GOT THIS!"
A pause.
A slightly longer pause.
Robert sighed, and turned his mind back to the job at hand. He was going to do his best to protect everyone, and that meant he had to stop being Robert and start being Robin. Good, slipping into this personality was like slipping into a comfortable set of clothes. His civilian clothes were gone in a flash of light, replaced by the trademark green and brown armour of the prince of thieves.
"Okay. Thaddy-boy, you leave the fighting to the rest of us. Only use prana if you have to defend yourself, Eddie and I will take care of everything else. Granny, can you move your house to block off the bridge from this direction? I'm going to put every single last one of these poor fucks out of their misery, but just in case something goes wrong I want a 100% guarantee that they don't bother Scarlet and his friends back there."
A golden burst of light, and a Saracen compound bow appeared in his hand. The young man in green stared down at his weapon like an old friend, before turning his face up to meet the black-haired boy. "As for you Eddie? Don't even think about holding back. Reduce everything to ashes."
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Post by Baba Yaga on Mar 17, 2016 23:20:00 GMT
This mission crashed along during one of Baba's more apathic moods. She was completly oblivious and didn't offer much resistance or even inquired why she was being rushed to those metallic light coffins they use to travel across time and space. Well, she was (vaguely) aware of the specs of the mission and complied with shrugging resignation. She heard a few words now and then. A horde of ghouls. Seems simple enough. It's not like she hadn't fought them before anyway.
What she failed to hear was their number.
Upon materialising for the second time in Fuyuki, she saw the true nature of her assignment. An ocean of filthy red was rushing in their direction. The bustling of thousands of decaying corpses advancing relentlessly, in the bumbling fashion of zombies. Yet the sheer amount was no joke. In quite a literal way, it seemed all Hell really had brooken loose.
The witch snapped out of her indifference. A Boogieman of renown, the Demon Witch of Russia, a servant whose whole existence was devoted to cause terror, was now being assaulted by something she had never thought would ever reach her. Fear. Swallowing dry, she stared at the horde in front of the party, eyes spread open almost to the point of falling out of their sockets. Were she alone she might have even fallen to her knees, but pride kept her standing.
Then suddenly, her mind snapped again. From indifference to panic, from panic to resolution.
Near her stood a young priest with a huge cross, a green-clad warrior and black haired knight that seemed to exhale fire. That last one was probably the best suited for such a mission. She could just feel desolation in his breath. These men were her partners in this ordeal and quite likely,she thought, being her usual optimist self, the last people she would see in this materialisation. Well, so be it. She's had enough of her life in Chaldea, being summoned against her will and never being recruted for anything. She felt like a tiger captured from the wild and left to rot in a cage while lions feast just outside the metal bars.
Since it was likely she was about to expire, why not go in a heap of fire, as is beffiting a witch's death?
The lean green archer bellowed something to his beloved and then addressed the party. It was a rudimentary strategy, but then again, it's not like they had much time to plan anything. In disgruntled compliance she nodded.
"Very well, I take that bridge area then. I'll leave no shambling cadaver with their bowels intact, trust me."
She walked a few meters away, to be able to summon Kuritsa Dom without crushing her teammates. Her back against them, she yelled, for the gushing wind swallowed her words, but the message got through anyway.
"Let's leave them in tatters!"
She had no ideia where this sudden rush of courage was coming from, especially after cowering like that at first. Perhaps it was such a strong self-told lie it became her truth for now. Maybe she really was suicidal.
Masochism, spite and a love of carnage drove her past her fear.
With arms outstretched, the witch jolted in a nautious spasm.Within the second, the fowl feet of her home slammed on the ground, falling in a flash from nowhere and screeching like a demonic bird.
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Post by Paula Bunyan on Mar 18, 2016 16:17:45 GMT
Ideally, he would have liked to ease his way into this whole Grand Order business but the best laid plans of mice and men and all that. Rather than a simple walk in the park to get his feet wet, the Black Prince's first excursion as an agent of Chaldea was to cull a nigh endless horde or undead savages intent on tearing another group of Heroes limb from limb. So, in short, he'd been tossed spurs first into a world of flame and death with the single instruction that he should massacre as many people as he could find. On second thought, maybe this wasn't a half bad way to get into the swing of things. Not all that different from his experiences in life really. On the plus side, there was the added advantage that his targets were rabid monsters rather than innocent civilians which gave Edward the chance to finally fight like a "proper English knight."
On the subject of proper Englishmen, it appeared that one of his allies was none other than the famous Robin Hood of all people. On the other side was an elderly woman, a sorcereress of some sort based on the quick skim he'd given her file. Ideally, he'd have liked to offer a quip of some sort to cut the tension a bit but to be perfectly honest, he hadn't the foggiest as to how to respond to a house rising on a set of giant chicken legs like some terrible fairy tale monstrosity.
Shrugging off his slight confusion at his ally's abilities, Edward simple summoned his faithful steed, causing the great flaming charger to erupt from the ground in a flurry of smoke and licking tongues of fire. Pausing long enough to pat the horse's neck, Edward hauled himself up into the saddle without bothering to summon his helmet. The old comfortable saddle felt just as it should, his mount's movements quickly synchronizing with his own breathing in a perfect partnership before he sent a smirk towards the emerald archer standing nearby.
"Oh no worries there, Archer. I'm known for many things but restraint isn't one of them. I'll do what I can to buy you lot some time and reign these cretins in. See if you can't find a way to cull their numbers, will you?" he replied, offering a casual wave of his hand before spurring his horse onward.
Taking off at a blistering pace, the mighty horse raced across the paved streets, every click of its hooves sending up a flurry of sparks as Rider drew closer and closer to the oncoming horde before finally activating his Prana Burst, setting himself and his steed ablaze. Rather than crash directly into the mass of gnashing jaws and grabbing fingers, Edward instead elected to stay in front of the pack, racing across their front leaving a furious trail of fire in his wake in an attempt to slow and cage the creatures until his allies could mount a true and proper offensive. Not yet ready to reveal his trump card, Edward was relying purely upon his Prana Burst's natural state rather than his Noble Phantasm's activated power. The time to unleash his full wrath would come soon enough but until the enemy's numbers were a bit smaller, it was still a risky move the Black Prince wasn't prepared to make.
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Post by Thaddeus Adeodatus on Mar 22, 2016 15:38:35 GMT
The Ranger began uttering orders in a voice much more... testing of his patience than his usual self, yet Thaddeus didn't mind it. His strategy was solid - after all, their goal is to simply hold the horde from crossing the bridge and interfering with the other parties. Any means of achieving that are all and well with him, specially coming from Servants who historically had more experience fighting against armies, even if the Church agent could argue he'd had more encounters with such mindless foes.
"Very well. I shall sit here and provide the prana necessary, allowing both the house and the chariot to attack without worrying over my own well-being." Thaddeus stated, much more calmly than any mere human had any right to when faced with legions of the dead. Removing the small crucifix from his neck, he threw it up in the air whereupon return it had magnified several times in size, manifesting into his Mystic Code and Formal Wear. "If you necessitate healing, please fall back to a position close to me. I shall dispose of any stray ghouls that pass by our frontline, so don't concern yourselves with being completely thorough in your offense."
The man of the faith walked to a position roughly in the middle of the bridge's mouth, placing his oversized cross' lower end parallel to the road. It shone a dull red glow against the crimson ichor and the blazing fires of the destroyed Fuyuki, different from the otherwise regal flare it might have emitted under a clear sky, yet beautiful in an melancholic way. Air escaped his lips and his hands rested upon the top of the symbol of Christ, eyelids closing as the world around him was muted. To the outside, it didn't even seem like he was breathing, but soft murmurs could be heard as his mouth opened millimeters at a time, reciting passages of the Scripture.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
For you are with me;
Your rod and your staff,
They comfort me,
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows."
He could feel his life force emanating to the ones who fought in his stead, a bright light inside each that fed the anchor that kept them in this world. A mere connection to their souls - one of a noble warrior, one of a self-aware monster and one of an unrelenting prince - presented itself inside him, curious traces of their existence floating inside his mind. He couldn't read their thoughts or anything of the like, yet for a mere second, he felt no ill towards any of them, even the boogeyman of the North that was Baba Yaga.
The Lord created all of them in His image, and this moment, for Thaddeus, is but a mere echo of that fact.
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Post by ROBIN on Mar 22, 2016 16:23:57 GMT
Good, everyone was obeying his orders. It was nice to be able to fight alongside people who knew what they were doing - too often did the pride of great men cause them to act opposite to their interests simply because their pride made the more logical route unpleasant.
His head shot around as he heard an obscenely loud crowing noise, apparently coming from a house that walked on chicken legs. How bizarre - he had been raised in England and he had never been one of those people exposed to the legend of Baba Yaga in his youth. The grail gave him basic information upon seeing the house, the Noble Phantasm that declared its bearer to be the cannibalistic witch Baba Yaga - Its bearer was almost as bad as the monsters that he had fought against in the Holy Land, and for a moment he felt an overwhelming desire to crush her. Yet he had learned from serving under Alaya that sometimes you had to put your mission before your own ego, and right now they weren't able to waste her strength.
Turning back to the figure of Rider, Robin listened to his request about finding a way to reign these monsters in. He knew that if he had been there before they were summoned, he could have been so much more helpful - his Subversive Action skill would have cut off 60% of the opposing force before they could even be summoned. As it was? All he could do was use the tactics that had served him so well in life, and hope that they wouldn't fail him now.
"Don't worry about me, Eddie. The Prince of Thieves always holds up his half of the bargain." The Green Archer bore a wicked, cat-like grin on his face as he prepared to live up to his promise. Yet it was a plastic smile, a perfect replica but a fake nonetheless.
He knew a way that he would be able to slaughter at least the first wave of these monsters, yet to do so would require the activation of his noble phantasm. It was a low-ranked one, lacking in the exorbitant prana cost of many other phantasms, but could their Master possibly sustain a trio of Noble Phantasms simultaneously? Surely that would put a large amount of stress upon his body?
It was at this moment that a familiar biblical verse poured forth from their Master. Robert had traded his faith away a long time ago, trusting in cold pragmatism and active prevention of evil through cutting the more malignant members of the human race out like tumours. Still something about this verse stirred old memories of going to church as a child, of those sunbeams pouring through the stained glass windows of his local abbey. It was like listening to Friar Tuck's sermons, and for a moment he could pretend that these men were his merry men and that he was once more Robin Hood rather than simply ROBIN.
Yet, the man finished his preaching without finishing the psalm.
"Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life." Robin created an arrow, notching it into the bow string and pulling it back."And I will dwell in the house of the lord forever."
The golden glow of prana ruptured around the hooded archer, as his face solidified into a face filled with determination and fearlessness. With a cry of "Rise up my brothers", a thick smog poured out from around Robert, before it solidified in an instant to the figures of one hundred cloaked strangers, each wielding similar weapons to Robert. The figures were hugely different from one another - a giant in a cloak that barely fit, a priest with a crucifix pouring out of his robe, a small figure that was clearly only just out of childhood.
Baba, Edward and Thaddeus could never truly be his brothers, nor could EMIYA or Joan. For before them he had one true kin, and these cloaked figures were them. They were his legendary companions, the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest, living up to their promise to Robin to protect others no matter the cost to themselves. They may never have become true heroic spirits, but in this form they could still save others.
TWANG.
The bows were, as one, loosed until the arrows blotted out the very stars in the sky. They fell like rain upon the massed heads of the horde, tearing them apart like tissue paper. The sound of thuds was a bloody and brutal rain, as the bodies were perforated, pulped and shattered.
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Post by Baba Yaga on Mar 23, 2016 13:07:59 GMT
Thump
Thump
Squish
Thump
Crafter out of sullen mouldy wood, the demonic hut treaded awkwardly in delighted circles through the reddened streets. The avian talons heaved, lifting its knees as if tiptoeing with sadistic pleasure as they pierced the ground. Square shaped, breathing through every crack, the whole being was a marvelous piece of grotesque animation.
As it settled down, the witch caressed the scaly legs, as if they were a horses mane. The whole creature shivered and leaned as if begging for more petting.
Her only treasure. The product of centuries of foul magic. Oh! Such sweet times they lived together, how many dissections they did, how many children were lured and grilled, the secrets it holds... It is the only thing Baba values above all, almost above herself. More than a house, more than a pet, it's a reflection of her soul...
And as such, not always cooperative.
"I need you to stay on the bridge and hold those ghouls while I -
No, I'll join you in a moment, I need to-
What do you mean you don't want to go alone? You are -
What? Nonsen-
...
Hmm, thats a fair point. Allright, you win."
If a chicken hut could giggle with excitment, that is what it just did. It may not be able to speak, but it can be rather persuasive occasionally.
Leaning forward, Kuritsa Dom allowed her master to climb inside. The time this little squabble took was enough for a hail of arrows to fall from the sky, a curtain of hooved like flames to spread across the frontline and a prayer to be completed by the priest boy. Hell, in this situation, even a demon like Caster felt tempted to ask for help from a higher power, so even if she had noticed it, she wouldn't have scorned it like she usually does.
Now, we've squandered enough time. A casters trump card is preparation. She has had none. They would have to rush things along. Besides maintaining them both, most of her spells didn't cost much mana, so she was assured not to strain her Master too much. She had no leash.
While inside one another, House and Servant are One. Let the spamming begin.
After a few seconds of idleness the monstrosity began to shake uncontrolably, opening crevasses across the wood that made its skin. The front door and windows seemed to snarl. With a mighty screech it sprang in a frog-like leap, growing to twice the size mid-air, and crashing loudly on the bridge, trampling dead quite a few ghouls on the spot. As it ran and sprang, with agility difficult to compreend from such unergonomic creature, boiling tar began to ooze out of its back, encassing the drenched ghouls. From the ceiling and windows, several orbs, redder than the sky shot upwards, exploding in a rain of rotten blood. Upon contact with anything, the stained area gave way to blade like jaws that slashed and ripped apart the closest undead.
Slice, Shred, Crush. In the midst of this magical diarrhea, the talons slashed relentlessly the bumbling masses of flesh.
For a second, Kuritsa Dom pulsed of tainted white. An uglier, hoarser and far louder voice than Baba's bellowed through the battlefield, and yet, it felt like a sollemn whisper.
...с̜̹̝̲͘а͕̖̳̣̲̞д̞͖̝̱̟̠̰ ̥з͎͇̙̠̼͎а̢б̛̥͖̣͔̥̘͔ы̭̪̣̞͎т̖̮ы̜̲͉х̨̭̬̪͓͚ ҉̗̯̠̣̞̞͉к̨̞о̱̟̰̞̩͟с͙̪͙̦͝т̝̞е̤̯̮͡й̞...
From the ground, a tidal wave of bones spread around the House and through out the bridge.
Welcome to Baba Yaga's Private Garden.
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Post by Paula Bunyan on Mar 24, 2016 1:15:21 GMT
A great line of flames flared up in his wake. Wind blew through his perpetually bed-frazzled hair. The satisfying click of his steed's hooves resounded in his ears as the Japanese scenery flew by in a blur. God it was good to be alive. Well, "alive" as a Heroic Spirit could be considered at least. While it was true that Edward's current existence was a temporary, almost fleeting thing, in the grand scheme it really wasn't that great a change. He'd died young, too young to take the crown from his father, too young to grow old and watch his children come into their own, too young to fully make amends for the horrors he'd unleashed upon the masses in the earliest of his fighting days. That, more than anything, was why he'd heeded the call to this Grand Order. He'd never considered himself a hero but if there was something that he could do now, some tiny piece of good karma he could eek out to balance his past wrongdoings, then there was nary a force on Earth that was going to stand in the way of the Black Prince of Wales. Least not some paltry, shambling mass of undead drones.
Of course, they did have an advantage in numbers. A massive one at that. Glancing over his shoulder, Edward saw the front line of the enemy forces meet his curtian of fire head on, driven forward by whatever mad thing controlled them in the first place. Fear of burning alone wouldn't be enough to stop the horde. Luckily, fear of burning was all that necessary when burning itself was an effective deterrent. As the first line of ghouls charged into the trail of flames, the licking tongues of fire roared in defiance, consuming the hapless husks with all the rage of a wildfire condensed into a single trail. Smirking at the sight, Edward veered off and deactivated his Prana Burst. The barrier was in place and for the moment seemed to be doing its job of slowly and funneling the creatures well enough. It wouldn't last forever, but it was a strong start.
Glancing back towards the bridge, Edward guiding his steed upwards. The mighty stallion didn't miss a beat as its hooves left pavement and began galloping across thin air to give him a temporary bird's eye view. At the mouth of the bridge below, the old Caster had apparently gone bore and was in the process of unleashing a grotesque assortment of vicious traps against the undead. If they had been people, Edward would have almost been sorry for them. Almost.
While the old woman unveiled her tricks, the Archer had gone into action as well, unleashing a literal rain of arrows upon the heads of the shambling masses. It wasn't often that Edward stopped to reminisce but even he took a momentary pause at the sight of English long bows decimating an enemy army. Good times....good times.
Shaking himself from his brief reflection, the Rider refocused himself on the battle at hand. With his cohorts throwing their Noble Phantasms about in the face of these monsters, there was bound to be a sizable drain on their Master's. Because of that, the Black Prince was still not quite willing to unleash the full might of his mount just yet. Though that did raise the question of how he was going to contribute to this battle in the meantime. His sword was no Noble Phantasm. It couldn't unleash waves of energy or summon explosions. At best, it could cleave through mundane stone and steel with ease but....now there was an idea.
Flashing another grin, Edward spurred his steed on into a full gallop downwards once more, aiming the charge towards a slightly less crowded area created by the Archer's salvo. Coming in at a full charge, the Rider unsheathed his sword and lashed out not at any singular zombie, but at the nearest large building to the horde. The spiritual blade sank into the brick like it was nothing and carried forward by his horse's momentum, sliced through the length of the wall without issue. Furthering the damage, Edward kept his steed pressed against the wall, smashing the supporting structure to bits as it crumbled before the horse's armor. With a single sweeping pass, Rider was airborne once more, angling his horse upward after having cut a surgical swath through a lesser group of ghouls and the side of the building. No sooner had he cleared the structure, his goal came to fruition. Having lose a crucial load bearing wall, the entire building began to shudder and collapse, lurching to one side as gravity took hold and brought it crashing to the ground in huge chunks atop more of the undead horde. Flicking his blade free of a bit of soot, Edward couldn't help but chuckle as he watched the falling structure smash formerly mobile enemies into a fine red paste.
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Post by Thaddeus Adeodatus on Mar 26, 2016 23:44:34 GMT
As legends roared and charged, a lone, normal human stood in the midst of chaos, muttering silent prayers as only his sense of hearing was allowed to function. Breathe in, breathe out. The galloping of a horse, the song of fire against stale, dead air, , the sound of giant nails scratching against pavement and flesh, the satisfying twang of bows being let loose upon their foes, metal tips digging onto putrid meat.
So that is what was happening - the light trickles at his ear told him more than his eyes, only able to focus in one object t a time, could ever hope to achieve.
A legion of archers materialized behind him, a sea of arrows peppering the sky. A house rose from the ground with the legs of a farm animal, roaring fire at the hordes of undead, and a building fell to a long dead prince, crushing the ground below. Three hundred and two - no, six hundred and twelve dead. A lot more had their mobility impaired. Ghouls are tough. Even through a weak prana pulse, their corrupted souls squirmed like insects. Vicious, hungering, sickening. Thaddeus had to contain a a turn of his stomach.
The Russian witch needed more about two hundred units of prana to keep her assault, given her efficiency with the house's usage. He could feel her eased prana flow, feeding the oven, the heart of that creature she held so dear to her heart, with an efficiency most mages could only envy. As much as it disgusted him, that thing was very much alive, more than many other magical constructs. Baba Yaga feels the slight surge, and immediately understands the point of the slight boost to her reserves. Feel free to cover more ground, burn more. He has a lot more where that came from.
Robin's flow remained constant - each Merry Man was a Servant in its own right, little receptacles of mana with their own pings whenever they materialized in the world. The very heart of Sherwood fed them, and thus Thaddeus needed only provide enough to anchor them to this world. Unlike the stream that had been granted to the russian witch, the archer feels a wave spread slowly towards him, bathing the ex-paladin and his companions in soothing light.
The prince... his actions showed cautious thought and planning. Surprised with the man once described as a vicious monster, Thaddeus suddenly realizes he's been holding back from using his Noble Phantasm out of fear for the man of faith's own prana capabilities - which meant that a simple heads up was in order. For a short moment, Edward of Woodstock, the King that never was, caught but a glimpse of a large safe, ripe with treasure from top to bottom; the the gold that shone was of no coin, but of the prana reserves of an accomplished mage.
There was a reason Thaddeus Adeodatus had been assigned this mission, after all. This was a battle of endurance - and he could endure, no matter how bad it got.
Providing a door to that vault to the Black Prince, the priest-like man showed his newfound faith in a man he'd thought beyond anything but cruelty.
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Post by ROBIN on Apr 10, 2016 10:15:10 GMT
As quickly as they had appeared, the men of Sherwood had disappeared - this was their fate, the reality of those tragic men who bore the name Robin Hood and his Merry Men - They were only there as long as they were needed, they were only there as long as they had someone to protect and something to keep safe. The moment that their use was up, they would disappear. Robert had long since had to get used to this when wielding this power in the field, but it never got any easier to see the friends that he had dedicated his life to disappear before his eyes.
Choosing to throw himself into battle rather than focus on another loss of his beloved companions, he threw himself down the road that Edward had already beaten his way through. Those who had not been properly killed by his stampede were slowly making their way up from the ground, only to find an arrow piercing them through the brain and putting an end to any further threat that they could have ever theoretically posed. This was the duty of the Kingsguard - to protect the king and to make sure his path was clear.
That was when the building collapsed.
Had any other archer been in his place, the wall of dust that was kicked up by the collapsing building would have been a huge issue, obscuring his sight and preventing him from getting any shots in. However, Robert was no regular man - he had clairvoyance that rivalled his partner's own. However, to use it, he would require a position of elevation to get a clear view. Turning to a nearby building, the man ran at a furious pace - each step increased friction and thus traction, and he quickly found himself capable of running up the wall of the building, charging up the rough surface of the wall.
If he had stopped for a second, if his step had been broken, if he had been distracted then he would have fallen from the top of the building to the street below - something that risked causing major damage, if not flat out death due to his low rank in Endurance. However, as he finally made it to the top, he was able to finally stop and break into his true skill - that of quick-draw archery.
A rain of arrows fell from the rooftop, finishing the survivors of the collapsed building any time one stepped into the dust storm. Then, as the horde began to encroach into the storm once more, an idea popped into his head. A rather brutal, villainous idea - An idea that came from a plan he'd undertaken many years before.
Dust, despite what everyone thought, was nowhere near as harmless as it seemed. It had been a large danger when Robert had been in the holy land - Mines that dug up any sort of ceramic had a huge risk of exploding, as the ceramic dust was a highly flammable substance. When Edward had ripped that building apart, the largest part of that dust cloud was ceramic dust. Meaning that, should someone provide a reasonable spark? Well...
Taking a moment to rip the tip off of one of his arrows and rub it until the tip burst into flames, the flaming harbringer of destruction soared from the heavens, right into the middle of the encroaching horde and into the cloud. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the mass ignited.
The explosion that ensued was able to be seen across the city by even those fighting against the fallen conqueror. Made not out of magic but out of simple alchemic science, the rider trapped inside was not even remotely hurt by the result of his handiwork, but the ghouls had no such protection. Their bodies, albeit corrupted by the magic of the grail, were ultimately that of humans that burned, and melted, with ease. The most damage that would happen to the servants was extreme pain to their ears. Such damage could be instantaneously healed by their master, but it would be a pain nonetheless.
OOC: Sorry about taking so long to post. IRL shit happened.
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