Deathfire, Hope, and the Storm's Blade

[greyerrant]

Who: Garviel, Signum, and any snoopy watchers
What: The Holy Grail war continues
Where: Mount Death, otherwise known as Mount Deathfire in Ancient Belka
Warnings: ULTRAVIOLENCE. EXPLOSIONS. EXCESSIVE GAR. LONG SPEECHES.

The foot of Mount Death is an immensely complex series of lava tunnels and gate-like natural formations, entirely made from obsidian and other igneous materials. Loken's armor, freshly repainted and repaired by the Roman artificers marks him out as a white blot, dwarfed by the great gates behind him. Above them is mounted a huge skull, a draconic one from the times of the great Fire-drakes. A relic of the time when all of this land was Belkan, much as he was.

A breeze is the only thing that stirs the valley, vitrified lava floes halted forever in their motion. A dead place, where once the Circle of Fire burned in the breasts of the men who worked here, who fought the drakes, and who called Deathfire their great tribal home. Now, only ghosts remain, and bones. Empty vaults and quiet lava tubes, no more forges ringing, no more drakes roaring and clambering through fissures in the earth to hunt humans, fae, and in the lean times, even each other.

There is only the wind, which idly stirs the oaths of moment which have been freshly written onto parchments which are attached to Garviel's armored chest, stuck in place by wax seals. He waits for something, his face masked by his pugnacious-looking helm. He could be the last avatar of death in this place, a god of war that has burnt itself out, leaving only a single ivory playing piece to stride the battlefield.

He wonders if this was the right place to choose. So rich in the past stories of Belka, of the connection he shares with Archer. No.... he knows her name now, but he will not speak it, or even think it. Not yet. Not until she appears before him. So instead... he simply stands his silent vigil in the darkness. Hoping he can reach her, and find a way to end this war, once and for all. Perhaps he is doing this for too personal a reason, but he can no longer abide the thought of destroying one of the last remnants of Belka. It ends tonight. One way or another.

Comments

Observers and peanut gallery post in this thread

[greyerrant]

It's so lonely here.

[nightskywind]

From atop the mountain, far enough away to be detected by Berserker with Archer right there, Shamal observes the fight. Klarwind extended to enhance her range, she monitors Archer's condition. Her leader wanted this fight to be between her and Berserker, so Shamal would stay her hand, even if she felt she had an advantage to use her Noble Phantasm against the enemy Servant.

Unless Archer was about to lose. There were many things Shamal could endure, but losing her leader was almost as bad as losing her master. And Hayate needed Archer. They all needed Archer.

She'd also keep an eye out for Berserker's master or anyone else that might be observing the fight. She was Caster class after all...

[nightskysword]

Some time after the battle begins and starts moving inside the cone of the volcano, Caster will probably notice an enormous surge of mana, far more than a Servant would normally be able to channel at once, followed by an earthquake. The whole area has suddenly become both a lot more conducive to magic and a lot more geologically active.

[greyerrant]

And just a second after that, another huge surge of Mana from Berserker. It is very brief, only the span of 3 heartbeats. After that... his mana signature is very weak, his long connection to his master seemingly almost sealed off. It resembles a much shorter-lived version of the burst of madness and destruction that happened during Arthas' assasination of the Emperor.

[nightskywind]

With the use of the tarot card and the way magic came so easily even to the one who had an easy time using mana and magic by the nature of her very class, Shamal created the ghostly green mirror with Klarwind connecting her to the inside of the volcano. From there, hand on the mirror, it was almost as if she was there standing in the room.

Watching. Always watching. One of them might even notice the slightly glowing spot, but she doubted it. Berserker's mana had dropped so low she'd be surprised if he was even capable of detecting her if she was literally there, much less her remote viewing. Archer on the other hand...

...was staying hers. Why wasn't she going for the kill? She had Berserker. She had him. Was this going to be Assassin all over again? Unfortunately, Shamal hadn't been privy to the words the other two Servants had exchanged.

It was tempting right then to take care of Berserker herself, but she resisted it and frowned. What was going on here?

[nightskysword]

Meanwhile!

((Tag here or there at this point, doesn't matter to me.))

Let's keep it here since this is outside the volcano.

[nightskywind]

I will trust you have a reason for this despite your words last night. One moment, please.

There was a slight displeasure to Shamal's mental words, though she did trust Archer. She just wanted to know why they were sparing him when it went against their nature as Heroic Spirits tied to the Holy Grail.

Using the excess mana swirling about them, Shamal used Klarwind to lock onto Archer and Berserker, then cast a transfer spell to bring both warriors before her on the cliff overlooking the battleground in a gentle green glow. This would be the first time Berserker laid eyes upon Shamal in her knight's clothes, but he may recognize her from her the Imperial City using her front as a doctor to help those partaking in the late emperor's tournament as Spring Court.

[greyerrant]

Berserker is a monstrosity in person. His armor ruined, no helm, his weapons warped and melted by the heat of Laevatein's last attack. His flesh has bubbled and cracked in certain areas, leaking blood and clear fluid, and he carries himself with a certain degree of weary dignity, a man unwilling to put down his burden even now. He nods to her, opening cracked lips to say in a voice that is deep, if now parched and raspy.

"Thank you Mamzel. I would bow as a greeting, but I would likely fall over and be unable to rise were I to do so. I take it you are Signum's friend?"

He suspects she is a Heroic Spirit as well, but in his weakened state it is nothing more than a guess. If this be his death after his victory of words against Archer, then so be it. He will not be found wanting. He straightens up visibly as he looks at her, doing his best to represent the pride of the Legiones Astartes, as the last loyal son.

[nightskysword]

"He already figured out my identity, Caster, so feel free to introduce yourself if you like," Signum says, straightening her own armor. She was actually feeling fairly fantastic after the extra flow of mana from the tarot card, though her armor is still clearly torn and bloody in several places.

"Garviel Loken. May the fates call me a fool, but I believe you when you say your only interest as a Heroic Spirit is helping people, including our Master," Signum begins, looking directly at the legionnaire, emotions shut down and back in full order-barking form as the Blazing General. "I should inform you that the easiest way for you to do that would be to accept an execution now and give your mana back to the Holy Grail. However, you are clearly not one to ever do things the easy way, so I will hear your counter-offer now."

[nightskywind]

"To call you a fool would be a kindness," Shamal said in a quiet aside to Signum. She could call her leader a few choice things right then, none of which would leave her lips. "And if he knows your identity, there is little need to hide mine, linked as we are."

She then turned her attention to the giant man before her. Part of her wanted to heal him, but for the moment he was still an enemy and she could not jeopardize the advantage the two Wolkenritter had over him. Not at the moment. She would wait to hear his answer to Signum's question.

"I am the Hand of the Healing Wind, Knight of the Lake. I am Shamal of the Wolkenritter," she said with a bow of her own. "Please be certain of your counter when you speak it. Much rides on your choice of words."

[greyerrant]

"My full name is Garviel Loken, Captain of the 10th Company of the Luna Wolves Legiones Astartes. There are several reasons you should spare me, and band together with me. The first reason: Rider. I know you warred with him. Moreover, I know you lost. I would have known his destruction... and I have not felt it. Though if I'm not mistaken, a servant was destroyed not so long ago."

He looks at Shamal for a long moment. "The second is Hayate. A young girl utterly unschooled in magecraft should not be a master. Particularly considering she undertook no actual summoning, from what I understand it." He looks back towards Mount Deathfire, taking a few seconds pause to strengthen himself. "The strain on her mana must be immense, from supporting one servant." He turns his gaze to Shamal, as if asking her if she is a second servant of Hayate's, but doesn't actually voice it. "I also happen to know that one of my Master's confidants is one of the most knowledgeable magi of the modern Era, equaling the lore of Magnus of Belka, perhaps. She was the one who suggested my Master participate, and she may be able to help you discover why your memories are incomplete, as well as why there have never been a victor to any of the preceding Grail Wars."

He pauses, frowning, "There is also the matter of Lancer. She is... undertaking something very dangerous. She has gone into the Rift, the very heart of Corruption, to save something precious to her. She may well manage it, but what comes out is.... very likely to be an enemy of all that live. She has asked me to slay her, if she has become corrupted, for while the Fae are not like humans, they fight against the Taintspawn as much as we do, and she doesn't want herself to continue to exist in that state. She's a danger to more than just the Grail Warriors and their masters, if she falls to Taint."

He is silent for a few seconds, looking from one Wolkenritter to the other, and then clears his parched throat. "And the last piece, though this is probably the least... focused of my ideas. I suspect that if we combine our knowledge and power, we can bring some sort of victorious conclusion to this war, let the noble Heroic Spirits either dissipate or stay on as they like, and you can be free to serve your master in perpetuity. There is no shortage of mana in this place, for we stand in the ruins of Old Belka, all around us. There are so many wonders still buried from that Golden Age, and with the lore..." He hesitates, then says her name aloud, "And with the lore that Medea can offer, I believe we can find a mutually successful scenario that will be resolved without the spilling of any more Belkan blood. This will be a hard road, no doubt, filled with difficult hours researching and experimenting with the very natures of our existences.... but I wanted to offer you a chance at life outside of war, Signum. I am fond of you, both on as personal level and as the inspiration of my youth. And you as well, Shamal, for the Wolkenritter were the legends that that Legiones Astartes were based upon. I want to break this curse upon you, so that you know something other than eternal war."

He goes quiet, waiting for Signum's verdict, and that of Shamal.

[nightskysword]

"So your deal is, we let you live and team up against Lancer and Rider. If we do, then we, you, and presumably Saber all get together and find some way to go on existing after our time here is up. To this end, your resources are yourself and supposedly one of the Roman queen's advisors," Signum summarizes, remembering the name from her time living with Medea's approximate Sawan counterpart.

"That sounds like a fair trade, but you're forgetting the most basic thing I've been trying to remind you of," she points out. "We're part of a ceremony here. The Grail War is a ritual requiring the deaths of six out of the seven summoned Heroic Spirits. I've made temporary alliances, but always with the understanding that one of us would eventually fade away to complete this."

She stops, and looks at the ground. "If we don't finish the ritual, things will turn out...very poorly. Especially for Hayate," she admits, voicing the doubt that's been gnawing at her for several days now.

At least she isn't drawing her sword again yet.

[nightskysword]

Archer arrives, surprisingly on foot. Perhaps not too surprisingly, though, as she is again trying her hardest to rely on the mana reserves native to her class rather than causing a strain on Hayate. She knows she'll need as much of her magical strength as possible to defeat Berserker, so she has used her transportation magic sparingly.

She walks over the rocky ground, feeling the nature of the land through her feet. As a creature of magic and of fire, and as a person who had seen this mountain in its full glory, she feels...oddly nostalgic. This mountain was much like her, and all she'd known in her first life. Dead. Stopped. Power sleeping or chained or gone.

But still deadly.

The white-clad knight stops some twenty paces away from her opponent, looking directly at his helm, a smaller piece of ivory and rose compared to Berserker's bulk, but one just as ready to spring into battle. The wind in the valley whips her ponytail up and over her left shoulder as she draws her sword in salute.

"Berserker."

[greyerrant]

He returns the salute, his own similar, and yet different, ending with his right hand over his heart, still holding the blade aloft for a moment, before letting it fall back to his side.

Loken disengages his helm with his left hand, looking at her with gray eyes that match the clouds which shrouded this mountain before the sun set, momentarily squinting against the wind as little granules of sand scour both the surface of his face, and that of his armor.

"Archer. Or should I say... Signum, of the Wolkenritter. I would speak with you before we cross blades."

He pauses a moment, knowing she'll honor that much, and then continues, "When I was a boy in Cthonia, a mining city west of here, we were taught of the first knights of Belka, the Wolkenritter. They were noble beyond measure, a standard of honor which we all should aspire to. Even the little criminal gangs of our long-mined out city adhered to a strict code of brotherhood, even as we shed each other's blood. I had always found your role, your story, to be the best to aspire to. The other Knights had their places but... you seemed the most honorable of them all."

A brief hint of a smile passes over his face, "I shall confess. I had expected Signum to be of noble bearing, and unflinchingly potent in battle. I had not expected.... well, I hadn't even realized how achingly beautiful you were. All we had were old books, and the illuminated manuscripts that I read as an Astartes did not do you justice, not in the slightest."

He frowns, though, after a moment, and says, "It strikes me to be churlish to reveal your name, and then not give my own. I am Garviel Loken, former Captain of the 10th Company of the Luna Wolves, Knight-Errant of Malcador, the last of the Legiones Astartes of Belka."

1/2

[nightskysword]

"Your admiration...honors me," Signum replies, not sure at all how to respond to any of that, especially comments on her beauty. "I'm not sure all of it's relevant, but..."

[nightskysword]

Shortly, she gets her composure back, her feet gradually moving into a position of readiness on the sandy rocks.

"You are correct, of course. It's an honor to meet you, Sir Garviel," she replies formally. "I had narrowed your identity down to a few Belkans, but unfortunately the details of the Empire's eventual end are scarce in Dagarian libraries. I'm...happy that an honorable man such as yourself is a part of this Grail War."

She pauses, and takes a step forward. "You mistake me, however. Or rather, you mistake legend for reality. I am a soldier, first and foremost. My honor only exists as loyalty to my Master. For that, I have done...terrible things. Finding myself celebrated by anyone is..."

Archer trails off, memories of fire and blood the only ones she can find, prior to this life.

[greyerrant]

"I understand. In my loyalty to my blood-father Horus Lupercal I too have stained my hands. It was my greatest regret." He actually crosses to stand beside her, his blade held away from his body, obviously intending just to be near her, almost as if he is comforting her, for a moment. His own memories are much the same. Blood and fire, fire and blood. The Red God rising over Istvaan, the death of his brother Torgaddon, the betrayal of Abaddon, Aximand, and Horus himself. The flames that consumed the temple, and the falling rocks. His eyes close for a moment, halted by remembered pain. They open shortly thereafter, as Garviel remembers the oath he swore this evening, the one he has affixed to himself with yet another parchment. "Signum. If you do not wish to be admired for your legend, I understand. I shall continue to admire you, though, because of what you did whilst fighting with me against the demons summoned by Avshar. You earned all the praise in the world, standing against corruption. Fulfilling the ideal of what the Grail Warriors are supposed to be, instead of just the reality of a petty war between magi. We fulfilled the promise of the Thone of Heroes, in that moment. It was all worth it."

He lets that thought hang for a long time, before moving to the next one. "But look at your master now. Do you think she wants terrible things to happen? I mean... Hayate Yagami is all that is worthy and good in this world, something... someone we both want to protect. She is an innocent in the way few are. While I cannot simply cede the war to you, to be victorious in her name... I would know more of her, and see if I cannot assist her. She should never have been burdened with this, and she is obviously an irregular master, judging just from what she has told me, and what you have. She didn't join this war of her own free will, and I blanch at the idea of the consequences that could befall her, if Luca Blight.... or even Lancer got a hold of her."

[nightskysword]

"Hayate..."

Signum stops herself from speaking further. This opponent already knows far, far too much. About her, and about her Master. She stands more tensely when Berserker nears her - she can tell he won't attack, but the presence of this man still sets her on the defensive anyway.

"I...certainly agree with your assessment of her. That is why I'm willing and proud to fight for her," Archer says, looking away from the bigger knight. "But even if she were a monster, it's the chains of fate that determine our course. There's only one way for this War to end, and it is with the destruction of six Heroic Spirits."

The corners of her mouth do creep up in a small smile, though. "Lancer, however, won't be a threat to Hayate. I've seen to that. She is a fey, right?"

[greyerrant]

"Aye, that she is. Did you exact an oath from her? She holds to her word, if nothing else."

Garviel smiles back at her. He reflects with regret on the fact that they will share so few, over the course of this war, and then tries ti dismiss the thought, content just to hold eye contact for the moment, and find out how she has managed to thwart Lancer.

[nightskysword]

"'Swear that you won't cause harm to my Master, and I won't attack you or bar you from the Grail, should you defeat everyone else'," Signum repeats from those weeks ago. "I am admittedly counting on her running afoul of Rider or Saber or Caster or, well...should I lose here, you," she admits.

[greyerrant]

Loken nods, and says, "A good gamble, that. It might have already come to pass if it hadn't been for my interference some time back. I saved her from Rider as I found him a dishonorable bastard. I think... I think she considers herself as having owed me a favor. She is possessed of the gift of prophecy, and should you be the victor here, I advise you to speak to her about the nature of the Grail War, why there have been no victors.... and of the nature of your summoning."

He walks away from her, sliding his helmet back on, and bringing his sword to the ready, the teeth of the chainsword beginning to whir in their tracks.

"Let us begin. While speaking to you is very pleasant, and I don't wish to end things prematurely, we both know why we are here."

He walks back to the gate, seemingly a morsel about to be swallowed by the great drake-skull above him, standing at the ready to receive her attack.

[nightskysword]

Archer draws her own sword, taking a wide stance and holding both blade and scabbard in opposite grips. She's completely serious about this fight, and knows she'll have to give it her all to survive against the last of the Legiones Astartes.

She closes her eyes and speaks once more before she attacks.

"Garviel Loken. If I fall here...take what you've learned and make sure Hayate is alright," she asks, voice breaking just briefly in the dusty wind.

[greyerrant]

Loken blinks behind his helm, surprised by the slight break in his voice, and says, staunchly. "On my honor. I shall protect her and care for her in your stead."

He notices the blade and scabbard grip, taking hold of his own blade in a two-handed grasp to maximize his own not inconsiderable strength, and waits, watching her for the telltale tension that will indicate the battle is about to start in earnest, his chainblade on a low rotation, the low hum of the rotating teeth of the weapon almost musical in the wind-swept devastation of Mount Death.

[nightskysword]

Archer waits, staring at her opponent, taking in his stance, his grip, his armor, the oaths stuck to his body. Her eyes narrow, her grip on Laevatein tightens, and as the wind whips up once more, she begins her attack with a wordless battle cry.

"HA!"

Though she lunges forward, she does not charge. Instead, Laevatein whips out, snakelike, to strike at Berserker from a distance as she tries to take him by surprise.

[greyerrant]

Loken grunts with surprise. He was not aware of this ability of her sword, and is smashed back by the kinetic force of the flexible weapon, a deep rent torn across the front of his armor, from right shoulder pauldron to left hip, not quite breaching the heavy armor but tearing through the white finish, scarring and scorching it to the gunmetal gray which is the base color of unadorned plate. He doesn't hesitate, however, after the moment of being staggered, countering her assault with a short charge of his own, bringing his chainsword down in a two-handed swing towards Signum, testing her defensive capabilities, curious if she'll use her innate skill with a blade, or her magical shielding to stop his first attack.