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    1. Reflection 11 yrs ago

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@Parallel Hearts I posted Hagen/Saber of Betrayal into the character section with the luck check added into Dainsleif's description.
I see people are shooting at the mage. How very rude.
@Parallel Hearts
Sure, I can add a luck check when I get home. Probably gonna aim for C or higher to defend against the weakpoint kill. Or just roll a dice if you prefer.
So I mentioned earlier that I have a few options for what I can do for a Saber. But Hagen is one I already have tidied up, so I figured he'd be good for this RP.

So I have a few options for Saber. This is the only one I have at the moment with a fully completed sheet. My other ideas at the moment are Saladin, Archbishop Turpin, and Caílte mac Rónáin.


I have a sheet for Hagen that I've been interested in using for a while. He's a Saber, but I have an Avenger variant too.

Franz Burine Plaza


The twing of released arrows was fairly simple. But it was the excitement of watching them pierce the flesh of Berserker that made the impact feel real. Watching the arrows sink in, despite the lack of damage done. Must be a skill, or some noble phantasm. Probably a skill. Noble phantasms were usually more grand. Like those clubs Berserker was swinging around. The pelting of arrows went on for a few more seconds, with Caster's eyes noticing the diminishing returns. The time to keep firing arrows was over. Time to bring on the sun.

"Inti." It was a command word. A word that passed Caster's lips, and echoed down to the silver arrows. They were mystic codes, and for a moment their identity and purpose would become obvious to Rider. The tips of the arrows ignited, and so began to sunlight. Beneath Berserker's skin, the flames erupted, consuming his insides. Flames spurting out from the wounds, and even from a distance Caster could see the glow of flames underneath Berserker's skin. The orange glow that consumed his body from the inside, searing away at his insides. It was clear that Berserker's pure survivable skills were being put to the test, as fire erupted from his mouth. The flames in his bicep exploded outward, and that arm fell off, the flesh that connected it to the body was consumed, leaving him without a left arm to stand on.

"I'm impressed he survived." Manco said, eyes turning to the native closest to him. "We should have aimed at least one or two at the head. But I doubt we'll get that chance now." He said, silently cursing. He had overestimated the enemy servant's survivability. He must certainly be a savage of some renown in his homeland if he could survive the fire burning through his insides.

The roar then echoed through the air, and Caster's eyes snapped up to the sky, feeling the surge of mana that covered the area. Obviously this was the Berserker's noble phantasm. "Archers, aim high!" Manco shouted, raising his bow as the first projectiles began to fall. He began to fire, the silver arrows knocking the first few weapons right from the air. All five archers did the same, quickly catching on to the random nature of the projectiles. They were safest standing still, as by that method they would be able to focus on the projectiles in front of them. The sound of a scream pierced his ears, but Manco didn't look away. He knew that one of his soldiers had just died, and a second and third scream echoed out. They were replaceable. That was what he knew, but holding his ground wasn't working. He leapt back, hand raised.

"Ikaro!" A word, a musical melody of sorts. Harnessed by the shamans of his people, and whipping up a sudden wind. Knocking swords, shields, and spears away from him. The wave of energy acting as a shield, protecting Caster from the rush of projectiles until it finally died down. By then, he knew Berserker's true identity. The one soldier still alive looked to him, and Manco looked back. "Go! Keep an eye on Berserker if he tries to retreat." No berserker would fight back at this moment. The master would force him to retreat. They would need to keep an eye on Berserker, get him on a different time.

"Berserker... No... The great hero of your homeland. Your pyre burns even now. I shall send you back to that pyre."

Franz Burine Plaza


Anybody who was somebody was aware of the attack on the Plaza. Manco, despite his rather odd behavior was indeed the kind of person who was 'somebody.' And so he had gathered a group of other somebodies, like him. The process had been simple, send his summoner out to collect the spirits of native american warriors who still prowled the sacred sites of Boston. Buried, lost, whatever they case they still existed. Then, taking their souls, he tied them to a set of familiars, and then transformed his familiars. For a man of the incan mystical arts, the ability to change another's shape was simple child's play. He already controlled their souls, and their physical forms. To make them into the forms they had in life was an easy task. Then there was the training. With Manco's rank in "Expert of Many Specializations" it was easy to pass on his knowledge to others.

Now, Manco stood on the roof of a building, overlooking the Franz Burine Plaza. To his right, was a native American. A proud member of the Mohawk tribe that once lived in these parts. The other four were on different rooftops, surveying the situation. They were not heroic spirits, but rather glorified familiars. Only able to fight on tier with heroic spirits simply because of the training he had provided. That, and the weapons he had crafted. Each of them had a bow, silver. These silver bows came with silver arrows, a way to maximize their potential through Manco's Item Creation Skill.

Each of them could clearly see the Assassin, and each the Berserker. The servants had finally been drawn out. Time to act. The silent order was given, and one of the familiars, a man on a building separate from Manco, fired his arrow. The silver arrow aimed at Berserker's exposed back. And then another. Each of them acting in one simple motion. Attract Berserker. Any Berserker would rush at whatever was attacking him, so, they all attacked in turns, having created the shape of a horseshoe around the area. The hotel ahead.

Fwish Fwish Fwish. Each arrow would be fired. Attempting to draw Berserker's ire, and then another from the far end would strike his back.
"What a foolish creature." Manco said, eyes focused on the Berserker. "He's out in the open. Now, maybe that Assassin can kill his master for us." His own bow in hands, firing a silver arrow at any part of Berserker. The goal being just to hit him, rather than aim for a fatal blow.


"No doubt master. Were he any larger, or demonic, I truly doubt I would be able to match him as I am now." That depressing voice could belong only to the even more depressing existence that was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. "After all, I am only a Saber. If I was hunting demonic boars, I would always carry Moralltach and Gáe Dearg. It is a shame such that I cannot be summoned with both weapons at once, and my different forms of Saber and Lancer must hold custody of both in separate uses. Truly I am the most useless servant you could have summoned."

The way he said it was so... Well disappointing, as if he truly did believe those things he was saying. The strange Saber class servant said all this while he was standing less than ten feet from his master... Two girls hanging onto either arm, eyes wide, smiles on their lips. "Oh, and the bandage for my mole fell off somewhere near the peacock enclosure. I didn't tell you at the time because I felt you would only be worried." This was of course said, while both girls began to fight over him.

"I saw him first, you skunk!" The first girl said as she clung to his left arm. Tugging roughly on it, but as he was a servant it was easily in his power to simply fight off both. Not that Diarmuid was the kind of man to do such a thing.
"Liar!" The second girl shrieked, eyes focused only on the enchanted love spot he possessed. "This man deserves somebody who truly loves him. Clearly his master cares so little for him, and you just want him for his looks!"
"Please, my master cares deeply for me." Diarmuid interjecte-
"SILENCE! Can't you see we're trying to help you!?" Both shouted at once, drowning out every protest the servant might make. He truly was too beautiful for his own good. Surely this was a curse.
"I apologize Miss Einzbern. I'd put them in the tiger enclosure, but I'm not sure if you'd want your day ruined by such a tragedy."

If only he had been summoned as an Avenger. He'd have both sword, spear, and the heartless nature required to fight these beautiful women off. But he didn't have the grudge for it. The piglet was saved from the possible wrath of an Avenger. What a lucky swine.
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