Beloss

Fate/Empty Providence

sorry I took so long. I had to think about how I would handle this. There are a lot of things this whole arrow event lines up with really well, and it took me a while to decide how he would react.

Fate/Empty Providence

Rostam

Back Yard, Abandoned House

---

For a brief moment as the shining dart penetrated him Rostam's eyes shot open, his face twisting in pain, drained of color as agony and pure astonishment mixed together on his face. His mighty frame trembled and he let out a short barking cry of pain, as one who tries to scream, but finds his breath to short to do so.

His master was saying something, but he did not hear. Healing magic began to wash over him, but he did not notice. All his attention was riveted to the house from where the unexpected bolt had come. For a moment he looked completely bewildered.

Then he burst out laughing.

It started as a small strangled chuckle, and then increased until he was laughing freely and uncontrollably. It was not a laugh of amusement, or derision such as were common to powerful men, but a laugh of joy. The laugh of someone who is experiencing a moment of pure and simple happiness. Blood poured from his mouth, staining his beard, while tears ran from his eyes in rivers. He lifted his arms clumsily, trying to wipe his face, and then spat out blood, only to begin laughing again helplessly.

Around him Prana surged briefly, and, with some effort, he managed to choke out the word "R-Rakhsh!" in between his laughter.

Beside him an immense horse, larger even than he was, appeared in a swirl of white. If Rostam was a giant, then this noble beast was a giant among giants. A horse, 11 or 12 feet tall that looked larger and heavier than an elephant. Despite its size and magnificence, somehow the most notable thing about it was the look of nearly human intelligence in its face.

With a herculean effort, Rostam rose unsteadily to his feet and mounted the mighty beast, his chuckling reverting to gasps of pain for a moment before resuming.

"R-Rakhsh! Charge! Ha-hahaha- ah oh!- ahahaha! The enemy is there! Trample that house to pieces! Ahh! Ahahaaha!"

The horse shot its rider a glance over its shoulder that an outside observer might have sworn was exasperation, and then began riding in the opposite direction. With a lightning quick motion the horse snapped its head forward snakelike, and caught Lorelei Baggett around the waste in its massive teeth as it passed her. Had it finished its bite the beast would have clipped her in half at the waist, but with remarkable restrain it instead simply held her firmly in its jaws, her head and upper body locked within its cavernous mouth.

Then it thundered away, the ground shakeing beneath the tread of its hooves as it ran faster than the wind, leaping over houses and bounding through yards at a pace that even a Servant would have found incredible.

"Wait! Rakhsh! Haaaa- ahh- ha! Where are you going? Turn around! We must charge! No! Hahahahah! Wait! Go back you faithless animal! Dont you understand! Hahaah!"

Between a bleeding tiger striped giant swaying painfully in the saddle and laughing like a madman, a horse larger than an elephant, and the lower body of a young girl sticking out of its mouth, any potential lookers on would have had quite the shock.

---

Somewhere in Persia, around 500 BC

---

Magnificent he was, the greatest of heroes. They said he had bathed in the fountain of immortality, and thus become invincible. With his diamond headed arrows of light there was no armor, no hide of dragons which could stand against him. Wielding his bow with the skill of the gods the mighty one unleashed a hail of shining darts against his adversary, pincushioning his target.

Rostam returned fire, drawing and loosing his great bow with equal skill, yet one by one his arrows snapped harmlessly against the targets skin.

Rostam could only cast away his bow and charge forward, bellowing like a bull as he tried to bring his mighty hammer down on the skull of this man, this warrior whose powers rivaled his own. Never before had his dragon skin been pierced by human hands, or his own arrows failed against human skin, but against this bowman he had at last met his superior.

He pushed forward, screaming in rage as the diamond tipped arrows buried themselves in his ribs, arms, legs and neck. It was the first time that another human had ever threatened his life, had challenged his standing as the mightiest in the land with any hope of success, and he found that he hated this upstart.

The bowman had not retreated at his approach, had not fallen back an inch before the rapid advance of the champion, and despite his injuries Rostam now saw victory before him. If he could but close the space between them, he would end this intolerable fool with a single blow.

Another arrow sunk into his chest, and then he was within grips of his enemy, his mace arcing through the air to reduce this man to a bloody paste.

The mace of Sam, the crushing club of heroes which had reduced demons and monsters to atoms, struck the head of Esfandiyār and rebounded harmlessly, as if it weighed no more than a twig.

Then the hero Esfandiyār threw away his bow, drawing his sword in a flash. Rostam found himself fighting for his life. It did not matter how hard, or how many times he struck. Against this man a hail of blows that would have slain the Demon King Arzang Div ten times over fell harmlessly.

It had been the Simurgh in the end that resolved the conflict in his favor. Nothing more.

The arrow, shafted with tamarisk, fletched with the feathers of the Divine Griffin flew straight and true from Rostam's bow, takeing the beautiful Esfandiyār through the eye, and snatching away his life. Against the arrow of the Simurgh even one who had bathed in the fountain of immortality could not be saved.

The moment he did so his hatred evaporated, and he saw the peerless nobility of the one who now lay stretched out on the sands in death. He had slain him, the one man on earth who he might have called an equal, through a cheap trick. Kneeling over the body of Esfandiyār, Rostam had wept as long and loudly as the man's own followers.

---

Present day, leaving the abandoned house

---

Now again Rostam saw the shining arrow of light streaking towards him. Felt it pierce his flesh, and knew instinctively that it was fatal.

How strange it was that within a few moments of his summoning his very deepest wish would be granted without having to lift a finger. And so he laughed with boundless joy.

---

Alex Bradan

The Scuttle, docked in the Fuyuki harbor.

---

"So tell me, my Master, who exactly are you, and what would make you worthy of being my master?"

Alex looked at his newest familiar with a discontented expression. He had chosen to give him a crooked answer, turning it back on him instead. Well, that was fine for now he guessed. If nothing else he could at least rely on his cards to give him a rough idea of the man's character when he next had time to read them. Still though, already he could see that this was a lot less like interacting with a spirit, and more like a simple exchange between to humans, regardless of how much prana this 'man' seemed to be pissing out of every pore in his body.

I'm Alex aren't I. He said simply. I'm low on cash and time, so geting a relic was out of the question. This is my boat. I summoned you. Your history 's important because your famous, and that gives you superpowers or something. I don't get extra magic for being a celebrity, so mine is pointless. I want the Grail and I'm willing to get myself killed, or sink my trawler to the bottom over it. If you don't like me, write a complaint and I'll consider giving you a bonus at the end of the month, a favor for a valued employee."

---

@Holy Grail @Cu Chulainn @Moonlit Sonata

Fate/Empty Providence

Hey everyone, work has really been pressing on me these past few days. I am working on my posts now, but im not sure if I will have them out by tonight.

Fate/Empty Providence

Rostam

Back Yard, Abandoned House

---

Almost immediately after having knelt, and before even having received an answer from his summoner, Rostam was suddenly aware of a hostile presence, followed shortly by the music of a bowstring. Faster than it had any right to, an arrow darted from the shadows of the nearby dwelling he had emerged next to. Experienced archer as he was, he was able to follow the missile with his eyes, but its speed was to great to react to otherwise. Besides, dodging or deflecting arrows had never been his style. Instead he used his miniscule window of time to brace himself, confidant in the protection which his heavy armor and Noble Phantasm provided him. To injure him, the dart would have to penetrate both.

At the same time he began to scan the shadows, looking for his first assailant, his arm outstretched as the enormous mace of Sam materialized in his hand...

---

Alex Bradan

The Scuttle, docked in the Fuyuki harbor.

---

"I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Alex took a few quick steps back from the Servant who has appeared so suddenly in the midst of his circle. His cigaret would have fallen out of his mouth had he not been forced to set it aside for the sake of chanting the ritual.

Nevertheless he made a quick reply to the Servants question. of "Yeah. I summoned you, I am your Master."

It was an instinct which most Magi who dabbled with inhuman creatures were wise to cultivate, and though he he was no specialist in that sort of thing, he had, over time developed it as well. If a contracted creature asks you if you're in charge, you say yes, and you say it quickly.

The man who he had called up had a fair enough complexion, one he would have sneered at ordinarily, but it was mixed with something that prevented it.

Well, he seems a likely enough fellow, he thought to himself.

"So... you're here then. It took you long enough to show up didn't it?" Alex indicated the numerous stains of paint and other dangerous fluids which had flecked his clothes, showing proof of the long hours he had committed to the task of bringing the stranger here.

He leaned against a low chair that littered the galley watching his new guest and business partner like a hawk.

"But make yourself at home I suppose." He said gesturing to their surroundings. Aside from the strange tanks full of slimy, quietly slithering things the galley they were now in looked as if it could use a few good years of repair and housekeeping. A dusty unkempt floor, rusted piping covering the walls and all around cracked chipping paint and stained metal.

"I have already invited in you aboard in a sense, so that's done. But, if you don't mind, I would like to know who you are. It's a strange situation. I usually like to know before I have someone aboard and standing in the middle of my workshop."

---

@Holy Grail @Cu Chulainn @Moonlit Sonata

Fate/Empty Providence

@Moonlit Sonata

Ah, I see. I re read everything, and yeah that makes sense.

May I ask where this arrow is aimed? It said it was not targeting his spiritual nodes, so, not his heart or head, yet it is still aimed to take his life, which makes me think it is heading somewhere specific. Or is it not important?

Fate/Empty Providence

I see.

I also think I need to go back and put the locations if my characters in their titles. Forgot to do it, downright unprofessional.

Fate/Empty Providence

oh hey, Rostam is being attacked already.

@Holy Grail did you set up your summoning circle someplace weird?

Fate/Empty Providence

Rostam

---

Even for a Servant the figure that arose from the circle of chicken blood was alarming. Many heroes of antiquity possessed great stature, warriors blessed with brawn comparable to a god, mighty conquerors and rebellious slaves who stood a head taller than the common man, raging demigods who stood a head taller than even that. In the end though, each of these would have been still recognizable as a human.

What now stood before the Homunculus Lorelei Baggett could not be called human at all anymore. It was clearly some kind of giant.

At the last pronouncement of the sacred ritual, the call of the Grail had rung out reaching deep within the Throne of Heroes, intent on pulling one of the residents into the real world. Around the circle a phantom wind had picked up, hot and dry like the desert, carrying with it the smell of horses, steel and fragrant oils. As a glowing mist began to coalesce into a figure, prana began pouring out like a geyser from the circle, a beacon of energy that would be visible to any remotely prana sensitive being for miles around.

Then it was all over, and in front of Lorelei was a man of truly inhuman proportions. It was fortunate that the Magi had chosen to summon him out of doors, for the Servant would not have fit inside a house, and would have torn through to the second floor just by standing.

He towered over her now, a mountain of muscle that defied belief. His broad chest was like a castle wall, his bulging arms seemed bigger around than the trunks of trees, certainly bigger around than the torso of an ordinary man. Had he been naked, this juggernaut of flesh and bone would have seemed unassailable from a glance, but encasing his impossible frame was a suite of scaled armor that would have been more in place on a tank. Between this and the fiery red and orange cloak of dragonhide that he wore swathed about him, it would have been hard to imagine a more alarming figure to suddenly appear in the modern age.

The picture was completed by the large horned skull that was perched atop his head, empty hollow sockets seeming to stare at whatever he turned his attention to, while the wolflike teeth of the skull rested around his lofty brow.

The giant looked down on Lorelei for a moment, solemn and ponderous. His face, conventionally handsome though larger and thicker set than any humans, seemed older, streaked here and there with the beginnings of wrinkles. Between these and the thick lustrous black beard that dominated his lower jaw, it was difficult to tell if he looked old or young.

Slowly the giant sunk to one armored knee, and though he still towered over his Summoner, he bowed his head slightly and managed to convey deference.

"You who have called me forth, I ask of you... are you my Master?"

---

Alex Bradan

---

Muttering to himself in frustration, squatting over on the dirty floor, the Magi in the faded green fishermans jacket squinted at the circle of cards that he had laid out in painstaking order over the other, more traditional magic circle. Lead based paint, silver shavings, the blood of a parasitic blind fish that fed only on Kelpies, all these and more had been sacrificed in what was seeming more and more like a pointless exercise in Formacraft.

Biting his thumbs and takeing another few puffs on his cigaret Alex Bradan spat out the taste of lead and prodded at the still wet circle unhelpfully, smearing the pattern into a new shape that would hopefully be more conductive to what he was trying to attain.

The promised signs had appeared on his hands almost as soon as The Scuttle had pulled into harbor at Fuyuki City a few days earlier. They had burned coming in, but that was to be expected considering the tremendous freight that they carried with them. Since then Alex had been laboring in vain to bring about the miracle that they made possible. Maybe it was that he was unused to this sort of circle creation, maybe it was because he had no relic with which to work with. More likely however, it was that for the past few days he had been in fierce debate with himself.

Why take this risk? Why belive the cards this time when they were so often wrong? Why choose to gamble it all now? Here? When he still had a good twenty or thirty years ahead of him as a Magus?

Now though, those questions had finally dropped away. He had been staying up later and later each night going over the plans for the circle and reading his cards, and now all he felt was tired.

Tired was apparently preferable to internally conflicted by whatever incomprehensible metric the Holy Grail used however, for when he at last began to chant the rehearsed words of summoning again, this time something happend.

Alex felt his eyes widen even as he chanted. The dingy, rusty interior of his shipboard workshop was being illuminated by the prana that was suddenly swirling forth from the circle of bloody paint and arranged tarot cards. Old paint, far too long neglected was flaking off the walls as a sudden wind sprung up inside the cabin. Dank moldering papers flew everywhere, while on the walls snakes and other less pleasant amphibians writhed in their grime speckled tanks, trying to get away from the light.

Benight him the ship listed slightly, as if the waters where the Mion river and the sea joined were rising to try and greet the coming hero.

"...Come forth from the ring of restraint, Protector of the Balance!"

---

@Holy Grail @Cu Chulainn

Fate/Empty Providence

Don Quixote figures are inherently compelling, since they have achieved what everyone has wanted at some point in the lives, to have the universe simply conform to their whims and to silence all dissent through sheer personal magnetism alone.

Fate/Empty Providence

I suddenly want Emperor Norton to win the war. His legendary powers of compelling people to respect him are real, and they have me.