Yukitamas

Fate/Moribund Swarm

The Form of a Man

Unsettling. It was an unease that brought a perturbed feeling to most. Not to Saber. He wondered which brought the black. Which came first with the overbearing darkness that seemed to be a blackness that would stand as a firm opposition and enigma even in the face of the light of heroes in these halls. Was it the man who spoke, or was it the land itself that was seeped into this sense of oddity. The old voice, did it reflect the land or did the land and manor reflect it?

Yes to fight in a magus's workshop, to fight in a soldier's hometown. It was in defending what was precious to them, to fight where they were the most connected to their own origin and identity. A magus was a magus because of what they toiled towards and created in their workshop. A soldier was a soldier because they fought for the sake of their nation.

This was the Roma of the Matous, the place where they would most be the Matous.

“That is indeed true. All are complete, their strength waxed when they are at a place they leave part of themselves, whether it be their ambition or heart. We have brazenly intruded, your words are correct. My master did not propose an alternative idea, but I shall admit truthfully I wished for such a trespass. A challenge let us say. I wished to see the mettle of the Matou, of the Japanese for what we have seen of the Tohsaka is lacking, disappointing. I feel no servant, nor do we feel a master. But there is someone here, there is someone who will declare this is their home. You are different from the one who fled without a challenge."

His words bellowed into the darkness like a tangible roar which held a firmness that was at odds with the oppressive and murky pressure of the world so separate from the world of the city of Fuyuki. Almost like an alien presence, inserted into the home of the Founding Family, the roars of the lion clashed with the chattering of insects.

It was hard for Saber to understand and judge magi.

Self-suggestion, the art of hypnotizing and changing one’s self in accordance to the chances they enacted externally. Something as fundamental as that was part of what Saber had come to understand, and was told of in what his master had shared of her sister.

A magus could change themselves, prepare the existence of a persona that was a heartless machine that carried out a singular process, create a face that would mingle with and charm normal humans, or reach a state of enlightenment and nothingness that transcended the world.

A malleable existence, so different from the servants that were records of the past completed and captured. Yet even without considering that Saber was a man who lived earnestly, dedicating his entirety of being to one life and one being.

He was the Lion of Rome.

What were they?

What was this ancient man whose voice echoed with an age that seemed beyond any magus he would have expected.

What was the woman who stared into the halls, whose eyes held a wish for the darkness to be revealed as something else. She was a regal mistress and a frightened lamb. But that was the expression of a lady, and that of a human even through the lens of the life of a magus.

What was she, really? He could not feel it, he does not know. What is the nature of the Roma he protects?

Despite his desire and curiosity he kept his attention focused on the presence, and the void in the manor. The threat that was not there, the threat that was already there. His duty to protect his master came first, but still…

“I am Saber, the blade of my master. I ask who we speak to. I ask who has stayed behind, and who welcomes us in the stead of the one whose duty should bring them here, the master.”

Fate/Moribund Swarm

@Angry Hungarian

Christians.

They suffered under Roma, flourished under Roma, grew strong through the adversity of Roma. The church with a name holding the meaning of universal was born during the time of the Empire that encompassed all. Perhaps, in retrospect it was natural for Christianity to spread and grow where Roma faded. The relation between the empire and that religion was a mixed one, and indeed, it was the Romans who executed the son of god as taught in their doctrine. Saber found the blame turned towards the Judaiac folk amusing in a sense, but he was no learned scholar or priest. In the end if asked his opinions on the teachings that spread across the globe he would simply comment that he respected the convictions of its many martyrs. Ironic because of, or perhaps especially because of the fact that he took the form of a Lion, the executioner of Christians back in the Empire. Respect and love, hate and scorn. It did not matter, if the Fourth were to stand against him and become an obstacle he had to protect his master from then he would execute him as though a beast of the past.

He had arrived too late. One minute at his maximum speed. Fifty seconds too late. What was the point of a patrol if they could not reach each other even when not shackled by the limits of the modern world? There was only one he could protect simply by virtue of existing, and he felt the life of Rider slip through his fingers. A strange man, a man who did not talk with at length. An ally, a man he was meant to protect and save.

He did not know failure in his life. He had lost battles, he had suffered wound and troubles. He did not fail for Roma stood, his master still stood. This was merely the loss of a battle. He did not succeed, but he felt a failure in the sense of not being able to protect the well-being of the goal of his master.

Arriving to the scene that held a lamenting man who buried his grief he swiftly realized the fact that the battlefield, the manor was abandoned. Saber materialized as he watched Emmerich work for a few moments, approaching only when he had opened up the manor with his own tools.

Without a sound Emmerich was pulled back with a large hand before he charged into the manor. He had no doubts that even in such a moment that the soldier noticed his presence, especially considering Saber had no intention of hiding it. There was merit in letting one vent out their grief, but a soldier especially should not be coddled no matter the circumstance.

“Let us go in together.”

The home was surprisingly bereft of anything that seemed relevant to the war, save for gold that tried to stain those around it with its influence. Yet the splendor of gold was outshined by the glow of a hero, and with the help of his own abilities the soldier was able to avoid exposure as well.

Something dangerous, and something to take with them in case the enemy had plans for it, as he agreed with his master after consulting her opinion.

It was a normal home in comparison to the ragtag workshop and military base of the Church. He wondered if Rider found it disappointing he died fighting at ground that seemed so divorced from the nature of conflict. To Saber it was a worthy place to protect, one’s home, one’s ancestral land as he understood it with the position of these Tohsakas in relation to this city.

From the earlier reports he knew that there was no contact with the enemy, yet the presence of the enemy was confirmed, both servant and master. The man of the church did not fight or even observe the enemy. The enemy had run and abandoned their ground and home.

…

This was their Roma, and they had left it without a fight. How shameless, how unsightly. Cowardly, cowardly to the greatest degree! To watch Rider fight and perish, then decide that their Roma was not even worth the effort of protecting. No, in the first place they did not even see if they would even need to defend it. So fearful of the man of the church, so fearful of fighting, so fearful for their lives that they abandon everything but the next breath that they take.

Mighty Porsena, mighty Porsena with the large armies of the Etruscans cowed his fellow men at the bridge. Yet the Romans still fought, only breaking into chaos with their leaders struck down. Their mistake was the fear that they had failed, that the time for their victory had past.

So long as one lived there was always a path. So long as he was alive he could hold off the bridge for the sake of Roma. Against an army he fought and against an army he would fight once more without hesitation. It was never over, never truly over.

Saber made one promise to himself that day and it was to never despair. No matter what if something is precious one had to fight for it. No matter the cost one had to protect it.

What did these Japanese protect then? He had thought them those who banded together to protect their land from their foes and invaders, protecting their wish and homes.

What value did these magi hold? What convictions did they have? He found himself disgruntled, annoyed.

As Emmerich prepared to say his goodbyes to the Manor of the Tohsakas, what little of value taken out to be brought back by the two he found himself hoping that the Matou would show themselves to be more worthy of respect.

==============

He later found it that it would not be the case. The manor felt empty in a sense, the sense that there was no great presence that he knew to be their equal, a peer as a spirit or hero. It was possible that Assassin was around, but… This time the master was not even present then.

@Shioban

"With a man such as you a man such as me would have never been needed, Archer.”

A hero was only needed when the army and general could not overcome their foes. While Archer was no less a ‘hero’ the kind of hero they were happened to be very different. The hero who made up for the lack of virtue of the army. The hero who commanded and honed the power of the army.

Yes, indeed. When it came to the matters and powers of man they had no lack.
But if only if it could be said that men were all that fought in this war.

@Angry Hungarian
I've been quite useful, quite useful all this time thank you very much. I've been talking to our beneficiaries after all. Would you honestly believe we could win on our own against the creators of this ritual in their hometurf, especially when they have the support of their nation? If you sensibly disagree with such a notion then badger me not. As it is the greatest danger to us is our dear own Schutzstaffel that you yourself belong to, so I’d rather not you have any attitude. It was your lost of Rider that’s causing that issue in the first place!" He was more harsh with Emmerich than Jancika in retrospect. The lack of involvement in this incident, and the build up of a long day causing his tongue to hold his ground quite sternly and unkindly.

Nipping thoughts of anxiety plagued him, but he suppressed them with ease. A magus was one who remade themselves for different needs, for they themselves were the means to achieve the ends they enacted upon the world. He was calm, he was proud. Continuing to carry himself in his grandiose way he lifted his right hand, a massive ruby that caught the lights of the church, and reflected them like a kaleidoscope that revealed all the possibilities of red, of war. “I’ve been at thought, and I have figured out a way to make my talents relevant for our war. Fraulein Frederica’s aid is something I’ll be reliant on for it… but it is a elegant enough solution to the matter of my contribution.”

Without skipping a beat he let his hand fall to his side and spoke with redoubled energy. The ruby disappeared from sight as he moved the conversation along before the question of what he’d be contributing was raised beyond the vague details he had shared with the soldier before. The Ruby was stowed away and his hand rose back up to this time invite Emmerich.

“It has been a long day, a very long day for all of us. But it is not over yet. I expect and hope the two women to perform well enough to make up for what blunders we have made as a whole, or rather I can only plan around that. Further failure cannot be accepted, for further failure simply brings the end of our lives, as Germans, Magi and of course, as actual lifeforms.”

He shook his head. “We cannot slack, so let us get to work. You can eat after we’ve searched. Of course I’ll have Harriegilta help us. If anything she might recall something. I’m sure it is here in the church. Where else can we look after all?”

Turning away from Emmerich he retreated to begin his search somewhere secluded, somewhere alone... somewhere he could simply be without any eyes upon him.

Menial. This task could only be called menial. Yet it was vital to their success, it was vital to their survival. In the face of that to be stubborn was even more disgraceful. Annoyingly he felt as though he could hear the questioning thoughts of his allies. Why was he here other than to simply supply Archer with an anchor and energy? Why was he chosen as the one who came, why is he the user of the tool?

Perhaps they would only see his current use as one who could do such a rudimentary search. How annoying, if he had know that the future had a battle in it for him then he should have learned a few more basic tricks. He pursued simply what was important, simply what would further his family’s efforts and bring salvation. Even if he would be seen as harmless or useless because of that he felt no regrets.

But that didn’t mean he felt nothing about it either way.

@Shioban
"Archer, while the tale of the results of Rider against the Burial Agent proves that a delay in the usage of a Command Spell is fatal, and our current situation adds to such, it is best you still keep me updated. If I see fit I shall pull you out or support you with a spell as necessary."

He let out a sigh before taking a breath, preparing as though he were speaking out loud before calling out to Archer with his mind. "You will be given relative freedom for this venture. Try not to create a crater, but prioritize survival and success over the Manor. Sieg Heil Viktoria, Archer."

With Archer not so close to the enemy, moving with an ally, and not cooped up in a church he felt much more confident about the chances of his Servant in combat. But still to not be there was admittedly both a relief and a source of worry, all the more so with every word he heard of the tale of Rider's end.

With a bad day that only got worse and worse, he felt himself feeling an odd mix of discontentment, anticipation, hope and dread. Frankly if he wasn’t in his own position he’d be feeling a lot of schadenfreudian for whoever was in his shoes.

Now where could it all be...

Fate/Moribund Swarm

There was no motion of acknowledgement, no word spoken. Saber moved. The further unnecessary commands that were given lost to the gale that was left reeling in the wake of Saber’s unrestrained passage roared out like a beast, torn apart by the man and left clinging to the memory of his presence.

“Don’t worry about me, don’t think about it.” The words were almost greeted later by Saber’s mind with an amused scoff. There was no need to say that to him of all people. Among heroes there are those who are the greatest at slaying evil, those who are the greatest at bringing wisdom and blessings to their people, those who bring ruin to nations, those who would twist destiny and fate, those who would break gods and mountains in their wake.

His legend was more human and humble, ironically so perhaps with the grand stature and appearance it gave him. It was a story, short and small, yet it gave the chance for the greatest tale of all to grow. It was not by his hand that the sapling grew to become the tree that spread across and became synonymous with the world, with man. He was not the seat of divinity and authority to which all the world flowed towards. He was not the blessed progenitor who planted the seed, who also planted all the rights and blessings of the emperor.

Yes, he was a momentary shield, like a transient snowflake. He was not the only protector of Roma but it was the brightest most important detail to his life. Even as a blade he was the Scutum. Although it was likely that a class such as Shielder would suit him better and fulfill his role as the protector even greater. Bringing not just the inspiring figure of the lion, but also bringing forth into form the mentality of one who was courage, and the virtue itself.

But that was an irrelevance. He was not the first, he was not the last. But it was most definitely thanks to him that the sapling in its cradle was not uprooted. With pride he beared his scars even as they brought pain and lameness. Ah, this body, this damaged body was proof of the survival of Roma.

There was one attribute he claimed without equal among men, and that was to be a protector. So long as Saber exists then Roma is safe, so long as Saber exists so too will his master be under his protection. Perhaps there are gods, those who reached heaven, or were extinguished that could rival or exceed him. But among normal men, among those who counted themselves as mere mortals and heroes he would fulfill that one duty better than all of them.

If that was the case… why was there no hesitation in leaving his master? His attribute was to protect his master, not to be a dutiful hound who obeyed like a hero of charity. He was the one who protected without fear, and he was the shield of his master. The notion that so long he existed his master was safe was not one born of a boast, or an allegory for his unwavering drive and courage that would not compromise. So long as he existed his protection extended to his Master. No matter what time or space separated them he would be able to be her shield. It was because of that ability that he had no fear in leaving her. For even if he was not by her side his body would bear all for her. There was no need to hesitate, no reason to worry. Not about her, not for him. The river was already gone from sight when he finally allowed himself a moment to respond through their link.

“Survive? Even if I am not the one who walks by the side of your sister there’s hardly a need to ask me to do so. I am the shield who lives to see the glory that awaits at the beginning of the end. Ah, if we are making requests however…”

Faster, faster, faster. Unrestrained by the limits of humans in his own body, nor restrained by the burden of man in the form of his master, freed completely to enact the illusion and relic of the past, the speed exceeded the travel of the modern world even with him not being the swiftest of servants.

He was fast, fast as he could ever be. But would it be enough? He had no fear for his master, but he wondered if he would arrive in time to protect his ally. But whatever adversity awaited him at the manor his path was clear, unchanging.

“Trust in me. There is no need to worry, for I am here.”

A Nation was not simply a land, a nation is not simply the lives of the humans within. It is the whole, the culture, the convictions, the dreams and virtues of a people. To protect a nation is to protect their values, lives, property and way of life. It is to hold it sacred and to prevent it from being despoiled and stained.

He would protect his master, and leave her to grow without blemish. As a master, as a magus, as a human.

No matter the opposition that awaited him…

He simply need work towards that one task.

Fate/Moribund Swarm

CHAPTER 1

Fate/Moribund Swarm

The small thrum of rolling film sweetly filled the church with a whisper. The no longer secular, and perhaps even heretical church filling up with the many telltale signs of Brauer Herstelle. Supplies, tools and other such things were placed to make it the combination of a military base, a magus workshop and a home. Brauer was at work, creating the formation of the Black Sun within the church’s basement while the Homunculus toiled in back, the scent of food that spread through the building from her cooking.

Humming to himself, Brauer leisurely walked back up, the culmination of his current work with the Thule Society laid down. The Black Sun was left in the darkness, waiting for its moment to shine. Ah, but what to get for it… Well, there was that method of acquiring supplies and reagents… He’d have to call Emmerich and ask him to place an order.

Hidden away from the moon, basked in the simple lights of the church. Despite the fact that they were here for a conflict, a ritual, a war, Brauer admitted that he felt rather comfortable for a time. Perhaps it was the fact that they managed to attain the church without a battle in the end and the lack of an enemy presence?

With a light touch a phonograph he brought with him whirs to life.
The sound of a ragtime band began to fliter through a player, almost like a yawn as it eased into the halls of the church. Another whimsical indulgence, or perhaps not. Film and music, the visual and audio. Together they were what formed a movie. So he considered it one little hobby, which was most definitely more acceptable than two little hobbies that had nothing to do with his work.

When he noted Archer’s presence he raised one of his gloved hands to him. Ah, the familiar that wandered as he pleased. Still, there was no harm as long as he did his task as he was meant to.

“Edward carefully approached his master and with a hand over his heart he asked Master... Do you have any orders for me?”

“Hm… no, not really.” he decided upon after thinking. An idle tool was not good to have, but to make use of something simply to give it work was also foolish.

“I think it is best for us to simply rest, Archer. Tomorrow we will go on a search for information on the grai-”

Oh.

Oh no.

Nevermind the report he would have to make of this. For a magus something such as a heretic hunter was a great danger and fear. Yet what now roamed the city was something that monsters and fantasies that should have been completely beyond the reach of mankind feared.
“Archer. What do you know of the activities of the Church, their eighth sacrament and their greatest force?”

The film and music that was playing was hardly a comfort and the news that were screamed into his ear left him with sweaty palms and a painfully loud throbb in his head. His heart was beating, pounding, crying out in fear with each moment. He was afraid, he was afraid and he was afraid the moment he’d stop being afraid is when he was dead.

He let out a gasp of breath as though he were a strange fish forced onto land. “Ah... “ he called out. “Tonight I think a drink is in order with dinner.”

Fate/Moribund Swarm

FUN.

Fate/Moribund Swarm

@breo


How the church was changed. Being made into a facsimile of a workshop,the heretical turned to hide within the holy. Yet he supposed its current inhabitants were as secular as could get, so it was hardly heretical if they were divorced from the belief completely in the first place. Pews were removed or moved, equipment and tools were moved in, along with more basic and mundane supplies. The homunculus was doing as much work as him in a way. Most importantly was the clean up of anything that was unfortunate enough to be caught in his Glocke. The second most unpleasant task for sure, paling only to his responsibility and his burden of accountability.

A report was like a poem. The composition of, and the meaning behind the content were very much important, but just as important was the recitation. He was essentially telling a story, the story of their campaign in Fuyuki. The lack of any good news, the overeagerness to prove one’s success. Both were things he believed best avoided. Their presence needed to be sold as an investment, something with promise, but something that needed more support, an extra nudge to get to where it could.

In short giving his report he was like a businessman trying to get extra budget allocated to his project. Truth be told, there was little to say. The enemy knew of their transgression and there was a delay in their establishment of their territory. But there was no reveal of their capabilities or any true contact. If the enemy had been observing them then it would have still been little a loss. He believed them to be ignorant of the Vimana as well, the most important thing they had outside of their servants.

Still, they were rather behind schedule. A point that he was reminded of each time he saw the proud figure of the Edelfelt lurking around. Brauer did not hide his annoyance at all, eyes narrowing on sight with a clear dourness directed towards her.

“How praytell goes the preparation of your servant? I hope that the next time you’re charging forth valiantly you’ll be better equipped for it.” There was hardly a need to press her upon the obvious. If anything referring to the other part of it, that she left her position while not completely prepared for a fight he felt would grate at her more.

He established the bounded field that brought them the control of the church. It was a task he pushed to have. He didn’t speak things as unbecoming as insulting the competence of an ally at a simple task. Instead Brauer explained that with it being likely that he’d stay at the Church the most of all of the masters, and his own work benefiting from the leyline greatly it was normal for him to want to have the bounded field made by him.

He was glad for the presence of an ally, but there was something that was most awkward being with Janika. Despite her arrival that felt rather uncharacteristic of his first impression of her, her air as a noblelady did not fade away. Sure, his view of her wavered for a bit in the face of the rush of travel and his own admonishments in the heat of the battle, but he could not deny that she carried herself as a fine lady.

Why then was he annoyed by her? Ah, there was something very annoying, something that simply itched at him.

“We should speak of the future, Fräulein Janicka.”

There was no beauty in her beautiful demeanor or stride. There was nothing that enflamed his heart like the simple plead for victory and success from the German folk. There was no hunger behind that nobility. There were those who called such a thing a savagery but to him it felt a spice that gave it meaning. Simple purity was not as beautiful as a slightly imperfect work that grasps at the idea of greatness. People were imperfect beings, and their blood, their genetics have become impure. He had no intention of simply striving for a result of purity. Even if one’s ideals or dreams were beautiful they were meaningless if they were impossible and could not be made into reality.but simply making children that were pure for them because they were not pure was an inclination he could not agree with. They themselves would become pure, they would be refined and become the ones who could attain 「」.The story of something dirty being shined and becoming beautiful was something that interested him more. To make something impure and imperfect to something pure and perfect while keeping it as its original self.

He paused his trailing thoughts for a moment to gesture the Finnish girl to come along with him in a casual invitation. “My work has finished, and it is time for a small break. Do you enjoy film, Fräulein? A church can make quite a theater, or so I believe.”

He began to walk off, his previous introspection coming to its close as his eyes lingered upon Janicka for a last moment.

There was nothing silly or strange about the idea in his eyes, simply a beautiful goal that he’d actualize for sure. People, materia, they could all be refined, all be changed. May this world we live in give birth to a magnum opus, let us become as gods.

Now then. Which theatrical masterpiece would be good for this time of the day?

Fate/Moribund Swarm

Church
Brauer of the Thule Society

"...We'll meet up with the Finn and her pet cat."

The answer he came to was the result of a deliberation that had begun ever since he felt the presence of another master. To simply abandon this point so soon after they had made such a transgression and risk to attain it was maddening. The burning sensation seemed to spread beyond the limits of his mind and sear at his sides. Brauer was tense, body tightening up and heart pounding in loud thuds in anger and shame.

To run away like this was admitting fear of the enemy. To run away like this was to show a presumed lack of confidence in their ability to contest the area against an enemy.

But he had already called for aid. If they fought now then it was unlikely for their ally to arrive in a time-table that was relevant to turning the tide between a battle of servants. The act of pulling them away from Shinto would be for naught, pointless, just as pointless as their attempt to take the church and subsequent withdrawal. To die and lose a master and servant was the greatest failure of all, all the more so if he disrupted their plans and still fell.

"We're leaving. Take us out, Archer."

They would return, and even if it were to trade hands again and again he would make sure that it would end as their stronghold by the end.

Archer

There was no sighting of the master, none that they could note, nor was there an approach to the church, no challenge offered. There was not a single presence that could be seen or felt by Archer. Were they too waiting? plunged into a hidden face-off, waiting for the other to make their move? Archer could not initiate the fight without a target. Nor could he easily fend off an assault that dives toward them. With the weight of a master in this situation he could not fight a powerful servant that held no such restraints. To fight another servant was one thing, to fight while keeping his master away from the foe was another.

The enemy likely knew of their presence to some degree due to their escape from the Church. It was naive, foolish to assume that the enemy was not watching the place at this point.

Would they give chase? If so there was still the weight of his master, but they would have a direction to move towards, an ally that comes closer by each second, separated by a distance that diminished every single time Archer made his way forward. It would still be risky but such a situation would much more easily be turned about by the arrival of one of the Edelfelts and Sabers.

"Very well, master." Archer acknowledged and accepted the command of his master before leaving the grounds of the church, Brauer in tow.

Fate/Moribund Swarm

Archer's been sick so permission to post for him so the Archer duo gets out of the church and relocates has been given.

Fate/Moribund Swarm

Archer
Church

The rush of winds seemed a cruel and teasing crowd of ghastly voices as they left behind the church. The eyes of Archer eyed the two human figures that shrunk as though they were becoming ants as he moved with his master in hand. Their enemies, both. After all, after this night it would be foolish to consider the overseer as a completely neutral party. Even if on paper if she were to return and reinstate her authority as a third-party there would be biases that could slip in. Archer pondered whether he should fire, whether he should draw out the enemy servant with an attack. No matter how blessed or strong an opposing master might be to forgo the protection of their own servant when under the attack of an Archer would be the height of hubris, a response that he should never be the case. Yet there was a class whose logic was either abnormal or completely lacking in the first place, Berserker. A Berserker may ignore the command of their master, chasing only to slay Archer.

Against one of the other knights or Berserker, Archer wasn't sure how well he would be able to fight, fending off a foe and defending his master. They would no doubt fight soon, the battle would begin. If that was the case then being on the offensive, attacking and attacking so he didn't have to defend was best.

One of the Sabers was on the way but their arrival would only come after enough time for a battle between servants to start and conclude has passed. His master had given him permission to strike if it seemed worth it... but.

Arrow and bow in hand, but not yet drawn and taken tangible shape with intent due to his own deliberation he pondered. Should he wait, or strike?