ReallyDumb

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet, Academy

There are no words for this scene. His voice fails him. His eyes cannot move. Orpheus is utterly transfixed by the scene before him.

He has seen this before. Upon that boat, where so many heroes crossed paths, where legends intertwined, both waxing and waning, the muse bore witness to them all. That is why, he could declare with absolute certainty what all here were witnessing.

The Birth of a brand new Legend.

The final stand of the Faker who cast aside his lie to die as who he truly was. The death and rebirth of a Master doomed to nothing but misery, now reforged into something greater. Impossibilities- a word given meaning by how Heroes overcame them.

The acts of the Faker show that he will die here. He chooses death- and for that alone, he would garner respect from any of the heroes here. But from Orpheus, it is his choice to live in these final moments that stirs him.

Commodus throws a pebble into the infinite sea, a prayer upon prayers to save his Master as “Commodus”, to truly save him. And from those chaotic waves, a hand catches the pebble and swims to shore. He cannot be called simply saved- he has chosen to save himself, to live on with the will that has been passed down from his Servant.

This story will not be tarnished here. It shall burn bright, for the Faker’s final moments, for the Master’s now endless future ahead.

One final song for the night, then. The Faker will have his send-off, and the Master will suffer no harm. Orpheus settles in next to the Masters, his last work complete. He himself is now as much a member of the audience as they are, every bit the spectator of the legend that unfolds before their eyes.

Fate/Lost Epoch

Tom Fruz

His Grave.

They were losing.

It did not take the eye of a tactician to see that the fight was an untenable one. The battle against the three enemy Servants was at a tenuous point, and the return of the other two kings and three new Servants would ultimately be a tipping point as the physician gained more allies in his crusade against his Servant.

As much as he hated to say it, despite his faith in “Hercules”, the side of him that kept him alive, that screamed at him to grovel before his debtors, that had him slip through alleyways, avoid the wrong ones, all to live to another day, that side of Tom Fruz told him there was no surviving if he stayed. That there was no victory. That there was no chance at grasping life. A miracle could not be spent if he did not win it. A miracle could not be spent if he died.

His eyes met his Servant’s. The revival from the point of death worried him. Not simply because the difficulty he held in continuing to keep Commodus supplied with mana, but the fact that the confidence of the great Hero had been shattered. The greatest technique was thrown aside, and struck back at with a deadly blow.

The glowing seals on the back of his hand itched. He wanted nothing more than to have both of them escape. To leave. To strike back at another time, when the world had fallen apart and the Hero could be victorious.

However, he could not run.

He would not spit on the dream of Faker. He would not tarnish the glory of Hercules in this manner.

They had resolved to die, the two of them. Faker, in his nature as the one who would bring about ruin. Tom, to escape his fate.

_Commodus
But The Hero would not accept that. He had ordered Tom Fruz to live.

[Descent of Mankind's Once Dazzling Star]

And Faker made a gamble.

…

Tom Fruz dies.

???

Life is suffering. Life is despair. Life is pain.

There is no escape from the cycle of torment. There is no wiping clean the curse that is your own Karma.

You can not escape sorrow. You can not escape torment. You can not escape loss.

You, Tom Fruz, branded with [Debt], cannot move forward. Your chains are binding. Your Fate is sealed.

The starting payment is five. Life debt, health debt, freedom debt, fame debt, fortune debt.

Pay the debt of birth. Pay the debt of seeing. Pay the debt of hearing. Pay the debt of survival. Pay the debt of luck. Pay the debt of kindness. Pay the debt of happiness. Pay the debt of existence.

paypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPay
PayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAY
PAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAY-

{The Core breaks.}

-̸̞̼̊ṕ̵̬͜͝A̴̡͉̝̗͌̋ŷ̵̰͙͎͙͌͛Ą̴̮͈̈́P̵͈̀̽͠͝Y̷̨̝̘̦̎͒̏͝P̸̡̬̻͒ȧ̷͔̣̥̑y̸͖̝̤͗͗̒͠a̶̫̫͐͛͝P̵̢̼͓͌̋͆͗͜á̶̯͛͑y̵̧͕̟͔̿̕-̴̟̠̲͑̄̄

{The Origin shatters.}

-̵̡̯̤̹͈͓̫̻̿̿p̴̡̛̳͈͌͊͆̐͒̆a̷̧̫̣̖̗̳͓͈̝̟̝̺͗̋̊̃̐͋̕͝Y̶̻͇͇̦̣͕̗̲̩͑̈́̊͊͜͜͠͠p̶̞͉͍̰̼̲͘Ả̵̢̦̹͍̥͖͇͔̤̰̟̲̈́͠Y̷͍͗̾̑͑͆͊̉͝ā̴̢̧̮̳̻̗̣̙̼͓͈p̴̨͖͍̳̤̥̜̾̏̔́͜͜Y̴̧̡̡̪̣̺̞̮͉̪̍͝a̴̛͔̟͆̆͗͑̇̕͝p̷̛̛͕̬͐͊̈́̀̆͐̅͠a̸̡͉̫̘̐̃̈́͂̀͝y̸̭̤͖͈̣͇͌́̿͆̊̍̃̃͠͝p̴̝̿̍̏͌̄̚͠͠͠a̴̧̢͈̰̬͚̬̤͈̻̹̎̎̐ͅY̵̟͓̏̔̚A̶̼̭̞̰̋̌̓̃͆̕͜P̸̛̘̖͎̣̞̦̏͊̇͠a̴̮̝͛͆̾̚͝͝y̷̡̢͓͇̦͈̝͈̰̗̜̎̓́̓̅͌͗̿͆͗̂͜p̷̻̦̘͍̦̪͖̠̏̈͝à̶̧̭̼̤̩͕̩̎́̍̉̀͜͝͠ͅy̸̛̰̅̓̈́̈-̸̢̖̑̄̈́̍̉̎͒̈́̍̕͝

{The Curse is wiped clean.}

P̴̛̟̰̈͒A̸̡̦̮̲̟̻̐Y̵̻̙͖̰͛̊.̷̛͈͚̞͓̟̬̫̙̅͆͐́͊̌

Live, boy.

PAY DAMN YOU-

“No.”

…

You must pay.

“No.”

YOU MUST-

_default
“In fact, I think I’ll simply refuse.”

--------

Tom Fruz dies.

But he refused.

Tom Fruz falls. He stands up.

Tom Fruz closes his eyes. He upholds his promise to Commodus.

Tom Fruz dies. Tom Fruz lives.

The pain is crippling. His core was ripped to shreds, annihilated thoroughly enough to remove his very existence.

Yet, he held on. He would not die, because he refused to do so.

The miasma of ruin breaks him. It breaks him, and he cannot rise. But he does so anyway.

He steps forward.

That which defined him, which gripped his life without end, he confronted. Yes, it was the fog of decay, that had promised him nothing but suffering, that he had been too weak to do naught but cower before.

Ruin-

-is seized by his own hand.

No more. Never again. He may have said those things once upon a time, but now he lives them. He will not be struck down by this. He will take charge, of his Fate, of his life, of this all. To call such things impossible is sane.

But the realm of sane men is not the realm of Heroes. It is not the man who gives up that becomes greater. The words of Theseus ring through his heart.

“COMMODUS!” The roar is felt by all, ringing in their very bones. Tom Fruz looks upon his Servant. They both understood.

He raised his bare hand high. The glow on his hand brightened-

Before fading to a dull light, as Tom lowered his arm.

“You are a Hero, Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus.”

The enemy approaches.

“Now, shine.”

@Over Illusion

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet, Academy

The gauntlet had been thrown down. The declaration of war made. The doctor would ‘cure’ this infection. And Orpheus-

Against his initial instinct, stood by the Faker of Ruin.

“I apologize, Healer. But for this Moment, I will stand by these fellows. A fair three-on-three, to wrap up the night.”

The guitar in his hands takes on a sleeker, modern look, transforming as Orpheus picks the tune in his mind. The rhythm starts, prompting the beginning of the fight. The allies of Orpheus- the Berserker and the Faker, as well as all their Masters, improved their defenses and felt the soothing wind heal their wounds over time.

Any assault against the Masters however, would not be forgiven. No more speeches. No more talk.

“Orphic Rhapsodies.”

The world shifts, and the music takes a new hue. The songs can be heard more clearly- but more than that, the songs are alive. The tune evolves, more emboldened, stronger, faster. The Masters of their troupe are given a barrier of nature and magic to shield them from the combat of servants, and another such barrier rises behind the Servants of the opposing crew.

A grin broke through on Caster’s face. This was what he lived for. To stand within the the very eye of the Event, and play to his heart’s content, refusing to be chained by the world. Ah, such a thrill had not gripped him since his days upon that boat.

He did not desire a victor. No, what he desired was a memorable Outcome.

For that, he would play.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Tom Fruz.

Behind Hercules, Academy

"...boy, don't turn your eyes away. You must watch this to its conclusion."

"I will." The words come out as a whisper. The legend. The Hero. Everything Tom Fruz knew about myth- was Hercules.

He refuses to cry. To cry would be to break that final oath with his Servant. The night has shown him much- the rebukes of the other Servants have shaken his faith. They have brought his hopes low.

He cannot win. He cannot access the Miracle. He cannot be saved.

But still.

"...I trust you." The eyepatch which covers the newly implanted eye is removed. He will not look away.

"Before you are Hercules, before you are anything else..."

"You are the Servant who responded to my call. Fight, and win, My Hero."

@Over Illusion

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet, Academy

"You, Caster, musician, whatever you choose to name yourself- are you able to scry the Servant's location? I propose we each observe their appearance, so that we know the face of the enemy, and then that we continue this gathering. There is no sense in letting such hospitality go to waste, fuahaha!"

The formerly jovial eyes of Caster had hardened into flint, all light and humor extinguished. “Faker. Your presence here heralded those spears. If you are in alliance with the Lancer, then even the slight interest your own tune held will be worth nothing.” With the warning sent, he began to play once more, a foreboding, ominous tune as he called for the death of the barbarian.

In front of everyone’s eyes, a hazy mist coalesced to form a sort of “screen” which projected the Barbarian who had assaulted the banquet. The Lancer running while carrying their Master, while another servant was beginning to engage them- there was no better opportunity than now. He could hear the screams in his mind, and knew that Theseus would be experiencing the same. The image of the Lancer confirmed what he had heard of the Noble Phantasm’s True Name Release.

“Altera the Hun.” The words drip like venom from his mouth. He turns to the crowd, fury burning brighter as his playing reaches a fever pitch. “Kill the Barbarian who has trespassed upon this occasion of merriment and wonder! I will support all of you! To whomever kills her-”

[Apologies for this Master, but I cannot let this pass.]

“I promise a true Alliance, to work with another!” There were more than a few Servants within the banquet whom Orpheus would have rather thrown himself at the tender mercies of the beast-women of Dionysus once more before aiding, but the being who had attacked them could not be permitted to live. Not a moment longer. The thoughts of Orpheus the muse, who had his concert intruded upon, Orpheus the civilized, who witnessed a Barbarian to exemplify all Barbarians, and Orpheus the ear of the Muses and their own mouth who saw the greatest scourge of history live, all came and became unified.

However, that did not mean he could not alter the playing field to suit his purposes...Starting up a new song, he granted aid and succor to the Servants, increasing their speed, and implanting upon them the information of their target’s location, a false Clairvoyance. There was one he knew in particular from his days on the Argo, and he approached him.

“Theseus. Jump.” He’d know what to do.

The guitar strumming would remind him, if not.

[@Wine and Dine]

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet, Academy
A wonderful eve. It had been going so well, Orpheus enjoying himself as he set the backdrop for the discussion and merriment of this legendary gathering of nobility across the ages. He chose to let things unfold as they would, seeing that things would go wonderfully without his own input.

Then, that Faker he had met earlier in the morning had deigned to intrude upon the party, as he had expected. The fellow he had brought as part of his interesting little skit was wildly out of place, but one could only suppose that this was to be expected, of such a fraudulent Heracles who attempted to reach upon the name of that Legendary Hero. Nevertheless, he gave a little ditty upon the “nemean lion” falling unconscious.

A roar draws his attention, his finely honed ears hearing the actions of that pestilence. The spear flies, and he clicks his tongue. A harsh strum of his instrument, and the defensive barrier akin to that of the witch who had flung herself upon the Argo springs up in defense of the banquet, awaiting the tidefall of steel. The rain of destruction which would blot out the moon, which would rip apart every last brick, every stone upon which this land of Civilization stood-

-Entered the Territory of Orpheus the Musician, and lost their edge. The hounding spears which would annihilate the Light of Man, degraded as Orpheus would not permit the death of the home of Music.

The spears fell upon the shield. The spears stopped.

The minstrel was now furious.

“For you, a Dirge.”

@Flood

Fate/Lost Epoch

Abandoned Farmhouse, Western Farms
@Over Illusion @Yankee @SSW

Speaking honestly, he’d not expected this when he signed up for this war.

There were a lot of things he thought might have happened. Death was an easy one. More debts from somewhere piling onto him was a given. Winning...extremely far off initially but perhaps doable upon summoning a Servant.

But getting new organs to help patch up the problems he’d been experiencing? Sure, they were puppet organs and not exactly the most normal thing, but if it meant he wouldn’t be peeing red every now and then or throwing up some food because he didn’t realize his body wasn’t capable of properly digesting it?

Fuck, even his new eye was really cool! It was still kind of itchy and weird to look through though, so Tom ended up keeping the eyepatch on, probably until he’d gotten used to the new eye.

His elation and joy had kept rising when he realized just how much the pain of the organs he’d lost had been crippling him. His optimism rose-

“If each of those organs was so valuable, their replacements must be just as valuable… Taking into account the cost of the materials- Yes, I expect to be paid back in full. A villain such as I would never act out of pure charity, after all.”

Markansas

-Before plummeting down like a star to the earth.

“A-ah, yes, of course.”

Debt. Would he never be free of it? No matter where he went, what he did, he could only feel his obligations pile upon his back, more and more and more.

You will never know freedom child. You have never known freedom. Your sin, your burden, it is yours and has clung to you since birth.

He wished to save money.

There is no escape.

He wished to finish college.

There is no help.

He wished to sleep well.

There is only-

He wished-

Pay-
Pay-
Pay.

_{Debt Forgiveness}
For a Miracle.

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet of Kings, Academy

Ah, not even a step into the Banquet proper and Orpheus had already been accosted by a figure of authority for a choice in tune. Truly, no matter the era, the fate of a musician would not change.

Ultimately, Orpheus was here to play music. And though it was not often that he personally accepted requests (truly, some people’s tastes in music could be nothing short of appalling), he did not have a proper grasp of this new servant’s personality nor his True Name to truly tailor a song for them.

Setting down his Territory and watching it grow with extraordinary speed, working to cover the grounds of the proceedings, he begins to play the song requested of him. Orpheus’ voice rose up and projected to the rest of the area. “Welcoming, the first guest of tonight- Servant Rider!” The introduction complete, he plays out the tune to it’s completion, moving in with his master at his side, searching for a safe place to leave the excitable girl.

@Reflection @Crusader Lord @BB @Phonic @wug @Froppy

Fate/Lost Epoch

Banquet of Kings, Academy

Arriving at the site which had thrown up the request to parlay, Orpheus throws back his hood, taking in the air as he looks over his master by his side. “Now, remember Master, if you don’t want to perform, then don’t stress yourself trying to. This is just a test run, your first little live concert. You haven’t been practicing for too long, but I think you’re well on the road to getting better and reaching proper Music one day.” Ruffling her hair a little, he continues onward.

“But mostly, we’ll be here in our capacity as musicians. Set the mood, witness the interactions, and record the stories being told.” With his advice doled out, he steps up to the entrance of the banquet site.

“Knock knock, anyone here?”

@Crusader Lord @BB @Phonic

Fate/Lost Epoch

Yo-Yo Grounds, Commerce District

His arrival was a bit late, but not overly so. A quiet melody he played as he approached the site made him invisible to all eyes, ignored and unseen, hood drawn up. He had unfortunately missed the competition beforehand, but the surrounding presences and the increasing number of Servants showed that the true show was not yet over.

The Servant who stood at the center, [Hercules], he called himself. And yet-

That bright figure, who stood upon the prow of that boat-
The legendary hero-
That one goth phase where he had a towel over his face-

No, this was not [Heracles].

His memories told the truth. This man was not the same one as the great one he had sailed alongside.

And yet.

Yet.

Orpheus began to play. A song for those who rejected their past. A song for those who rejected their future. A song for those who refused themselves, who reached beyond, who became something else, in pursuit of a dream, in pursuit of a New Life.

The first notes fall, as the Faker turns to address the one who approaches him. This particular song- would not be more than a nudge. To let those who heard it confirm their darkest fears, their own regrets, their own goals. It would not do to paint the scene when the scene would paint itself.

@Over Illusion @Crusader Lord @Flood @Yankee @SSW @Reflection

Fate/Lost Epoch

The Great Hercules Show, Commerce District
@Over Illusion

Cradling his head, Tom got back up unsteadily. Waking up from a concussion was never really the most enjoyable thing, as it meant headaches, some soreness due to awkward collapsing positions, and...unfamiliar locations…

Taking in his surroundings, Tom could find nothing to indicate that this was indeed the basement he had been summoning his Servant in. Had the Triad caught him? Or was it those Yakuza from Hokkaido who’d ended up with a soured business relationship? Either way, he wasn’t exactly in a position to find out. His hands fly to the knife he had on him, ready to cut his way out with adrenaline pumping through him before he hears the chants of the crowd.

Her...cules?

Oh that’s right, he had succeeded. Feeling slightly sheepish, he withdraws the hand clasped around the weapon and instead watches Hercules perform amazing feats for the crowd. His Servant likely took the initiative to properly spread his name, so every pair in the war would either view him as a prime opportunity to ally or give a wide berth until they were sure enough of their own capabilities to take on the legend himself.

Slipping through the crowd with ease, Tom positioned himself at the front of the crowd to see his Servant in action. He would burn this sight into his single eye. He would record this legend within his heart. He would-

-be the true judge as to this yo-yo contest.