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𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣

11/10/2022 05:53 PM 

Assassin Class Servants

-Registry of all assassin class servants-50%76%88%Loaded...-----Name: Sasaki KojiroSpecies: Servant, HumanGender: MaleHeight: 176 cmWeight: 63 kgLikes: Flowers, Birds, Wind, MoonDislikes: None in particularAlignment: Neutral EvilPersonality:  Assassin is quiet and composed, and while his general tone has a mocking nature to it, he takes it to another level with Caster. He is honorable in battle, always maintaining a degree of bushido, and he is not the type who would attack defenseless women and children. He willingly keeps Saber from exposing her name without any ulterior motives, and he prematurely stops their fight to keep an opponent from spying on her Noble Phantasm and possibly going after the weakened winner of the battle. He has no actual goal in participating in the Holy Grail War. He is not a Heroic Spirit, so there is no advantage to winning for him. He reveals his "true name" without regard, and seems disinterested in Caster's promised reward of making him into a real Sasaki. He only guards the gate while eagerly awaiting Servants to battle. A refined man who admires the beauties of nature and wraps his body in an elegant battle surcoat. Aloof from the world and having a somewhat elusive personality but, as expected, he is a warrior who likes fair and square contests. Due to living in an age where casualties happened on a daily basis, his perspectives about life and death may also seem cold-hearted for a modern person. Class Skills: Presence Concealment (D Rank): Suppresses one's presence as a Servant. A Skill suitable for covert action. Since he is not a true Assassin servant, this is not a class ability. It is his intrinsic ability as a martial artist to “cut off his presence”. This is not a skill to hide, but a technique of the mind for the martial artist to merge with his surroundings. Because this is not a skill trained for assassination, it cannot match the Presence Concealment of Hassan of the Cursed Arm. In reality, a Kojirou Sasaki who cuts off his presence is an opponent that is hard to detect even for a Servant. It is extremely difficult to perceive Kojirou during the first encounter. However, because his activity is restrained to within the range of the Ryudo Temple Gate, those who know the existence of Kojirou can detect him relatively easily. With this said, due to Kojirou’s personality, battles are usually commenced only after the parties have presented and introduced themselves. As a result, this ability is rarely used for its original purpose.Personal Skills:  Mind's Eye (Fake) (A Rank): Premonition or sixth sense, very different from EMIYA’s danger avoidance originated from “predictions augmented by experience”. It may be called a natural talent to sense danger. During the Fifth Holy Grail War, in the battle with Artoria, Kojirou crossed blade with her invisible sword numerous times. He was able to use this ability to gauge even the length and width of the sword, and see through the fact that Artoria was unable to use her Noble Phantasm to attack due to a lack of mana. See through the weapon and style of his opponent after crossing blades only a few times, the perception of his eyes is the best among Servants. Knowledge of the Sowa (B Rank): A special ability that prevents the reduction of accuracy regardless of how many times the same technique has been used on one foe. In other words, it becomes impossible to see through any of his attacks. Although Kojirou and Artoria crossed blades numerous times, due to this ability, Artoria still could not adapt to Kojirou’s technique despite having Rank A Instinct. Paired with Kojirou’s unique “head-shot” techniques, the effect is vastly increased. No matter retreating and challenging him how many times, Artoria still cannot see through Kojirou’s techniques. She was always forced back to square one and fought as if it was the first encounter again.[2] Vitrification (B+ Rank): An ability commonly called the “heart of clear water”. More precisely, it is a mental state acquired after reaching the pinnacle of arduous training. With this ability, Kojirou can maintain a cool and collected heart, regardless of the situation. Even when facing his very own death will not cause him to waver. During battle, mental interference such as charm and fear sorceries activated by the opponent is completely neutralized. For a “gate guardian”, this ability is certainly very useful. Like the many trees that surround the Ryudo Temple, Kojirou watches the gate in silence with a heart of clear water, just like an unwavering guardian. While he may not be an Assassin in the traditional sense and thus unable to make use of the Assassin’s ability of “Presence Concealment”, he is able to conceal his presence by utilizing a martial artist’s state of an empty mind. Noble Phantasm(s): Hiken - Tsubame Gaeshi (秘剣・燕返しつばめがえし, lit. Secret Sword: Swallow Return or Swallow Reversal, localized as Secret Technique: Turning Swallow Strike) is the fabled technique of the legendary swordsman Sasaki Kojiro who was said to be able to cut down a swallow in mid-flight. He achieved a Mystery attained only with human techniques that rivaled the Noble Phantasms of Servants. It is not something recognized as a Noble Phantasm under the Fuyuki Servant system, but rather an intrinsic Skill of the anonymous swordsman representing and using the legend of the great individual Kojiro as his source of identity. While still unranked, it is classified as a Noble Phantasm under the FATE system.Like Gáe Bolg, it is impossible to avoid, albeit through different mechanics. It is possible to develop countermeasures against Gáe Bolg after learning that it targets the heart, but the only true countermeasure against Tsubame Gaeshi is to not allow him to use the skill at all. It is possible to avoid the incomplete version with two slashes by escaping to the side, but the real technique is nearly impossible to survive.Sasaki NP  -----Name: EMIYASpecies: Servant, human, magusGender: MaleHeight:  173 cmWeight: 65 kgLikes: Sweet foodDislikes: People who ignore the hard facts and think they can save the world with pretty wordsAlignment: Chaotic EvilPersonality:  EMIYA has little emotions, an authentic battle machine. He kills his targets promptly, without hesitation, and without losing his way. His personality is closer to his adolscent years; his way of being is the adolescent Emiya Kiritsugu himself. Speaking of that again, his spirit is close to the time immediately following him having personally killed his mentor Natalia Kaminski as the "Magus Killer". Consequentially, his heart of steel remained as steel, his emotions eventually withering away completely. EMIYA exists with no personal motive for he exists as an agent of deterrence. Strictly speaking, succeeding in restorating the Human Order is surely the purpose of his actions. Towards the Master, he boldly speaks out that they will be "unable to cooperate", and it may not become known that the reason he says that is because he extremely does not prefer to be on a united front. Although, by any chance that there is a possiblity for them to deepen their bonds, it seems he will express words different from what he usually speaks. Class Skills:   Presence Concealment (A+ Rank): A Skill to erase one’s presence. When activated, it is almost impossible for the user to be perceived, even if they are a Servant. However, during the moment of them preparing an attack, the effect will be drastically diminished. Independent Action (A Rank): It is primarily a distinct Skill of the Archer Class. A Skill granted to Emiya because he grew accustomed to mobilizing unaided since when he was alive. Even without a magical energy supply from his Master, it becomes possible for him to remain materialized for about a week at most. Personal Skills:  Magecraft (B Rank): Emiya has learned magecraft. From another angle, because he understands magecraft, he consequently excels at the methods of killing mages. With this Skill’s ranking, by all rights, it works as a bonus for all sorts of checks during the moments of doing combat against Casters. Affection of the Holy Grail (A+ Rank): Emiya is being deeply loved by the Greater Holy Grail itself of some era. That love is even equivalent to the world’s greatest curse. Due to the existence of this Skill, his Luck rank is being flipped up to even outside the standard. Without meeting specific conditions, it is possible for him to even break through the abilities of enemy Servants that cannot be typically broken through. However, this good luck is also something that mercilessly steals the happiness of others. He himself is not aware of the existence of this Skill, and he sometimes does not even hear the “voices” being whispered to him by the Holy Grail. Noble Phantasm(s): Chronos Rose: Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May (時のある間に薔薇を摘めクロノス・ローズ, Toki no Aru Aida ni Bara wo TsumeKuronosu Rōzu) is the Noble Phantasm of the Counter Guardian EMIYA based on the unique Innate Time Control (Time Alter) ability of Kiritsugu Emiya that he had possessed in life as a technique improved for combat, sublimated into a Noble Phantasm. Based upon his personal variation of Time Manipulation, his family line's magical research that was transmitted to him, it allows him to control his inner flow of time, utilizing high-speed attacks and maneuvers by accelerating the flow of time, and concealing himself by slowing time to stagnate his biorhythms. With it possessing power as a Noble Phantasm, he is able to utilize extreme consecutive attacks to the point where he can be described as being invincible in anti-personnel combat.EMIYA NP -----Name:  OsakabehimeSpecies: Heroic SpiritGender:  FemaleHeight:  158 cmWeight: 51 kgLikes: Being a shut-in, Games, Internet, Online shoppingDislikes: Social situationsAlignment: Chaotic NeutralPersonality:  Being a shut-in is as sweet as nectar itself, internet mail-orders are the Apples of Eden, and binge-shopping e-books and painted figurines brought refreshing feelings resembling a nice pond. Real-life friends are nonexistent to her. At first glance, she’s just a neat and tidy, black-haired young maiden. However, if one looks past the surface, her self-abasing, gloomy nature can be annoying. She assumes the air of a princess and tries to act like one, but since her interpersonal communication skills are severely limited, she can’t talk much beyond the cliché templates lines. When her wickedness comes into question, the only thing that can be felt is a mere misdemeanor of a minor scoundrel after all. At worst, she uses credit cards to shop as she pleases. She thinks removing glasses is the kind of move a princess would do. It doesn't matter if the place is gloomy as hell, she'll still remove her glasses. In the English version Osakabehime has a habit of mixing together English and Japanese words, such as "kudastop" and "chigawrong". Class Skills:  Presence Concealment (Shade) (Rank B): The fact she locked herself up for years on end is not for show. Territory Creation (Rank A+): The fact she locked herself up for years on end is not for show. Personal Skills:  Chiyogami Manipulation Techniques (Rank EX): She is able to control her origami at will. She can use it to attack, defend herself, and she can even combine it with her Shapeshift skill to make decoys.This is her own personal arrangement of the shikigami utilized by practitioners of Onmyoudou. Shapeshift (Rank A+): In front of human beings, she took forms ranging from 17-18 year-old maidens in 12-layered ceremonial kimonos to demon-gods 10 shaku in height. During peaceful times, she’s the top ranker in Japanese Shapeshifting.Moreover, despite being so reserved, she possesses a top-class growth aspect within Japanese Servants which even managed to fool Miyamoto Musashi. Four Gods Divination (Hakuro) (Rank A): A Skill that came from the story that the four Gods is observing the Himeji Castle. It's only for few turns but by treating her surroundings as her own territory, she can increase the status of allies. Furthermore, she can focus the stat amp in her field to an extent. To be more precise on the amp, north is endurance, south is strength, east is agility and west is mana. It doesn't matter if it's a servant or master but the maximum people that can be used is 4. Castle Apparition (Rank A++): A collective term for the creatures who moved from the likes of Shrines into the castle. It was said that Osakabehime was the true ruler of Himeji Castle. Even the mere glimpse of her figure will cost one’s life. On the contrary, the further she ventures outside the castle, the weaker her powers will be. Animal Control (Bat) (Rank EX): She can control bats, which are neither beasts nor birds, as her familiars. She's become highly specialized in bats, and thus she uses them to attack and move, and she never fights by herself. She's pretty lazy. Since she's currently using her origami as main means of attack, her bats are currently taking a break Divinity (Rank C): She was worshiped as the indigenous god of the land of Himeji. Noble Phantasm(s):  Lord Hachitendo of Hakuro Castle's Hundred Demons (白鷺城の百鬼八天堂様 はくろじょうのひゃっきはちてんどうさま, Hakuro-jō no Hyakki Hachitendō-sama?, localized as "The Great Hachitendou of Hakuro Castle") is the Noble Phantasm of Osakabehime. A greater magecraft that materializes a miniature replica of Himeji Castle, along with its so-called “barrier” Reality Marble. By means of a Majestic Appearance comes forth a beauty appreciable by all, one to relieve others' anguish. « In the depths of Himeji Castle, the Young Maiden's barrier protects the Cardinal Directions. In this Realm of the Dead where the far-harbor bird rises, the great Hachitendo's deeds come to fruition.”“Lord Hachitendo of the White Egret Castle's Hundred Demons.”“Here, her actions are overlooked! » (Assassin) If Osakabehime takes a more aggressive stance, it is very possible for the castle to start attacking violently, but her shut-in nature seems to be the thing that confines her Noble Phantasm into a defensive type.Osakabehime NP

Fate/Grand Order, FGO, Fate

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣

11/10/2022 05:10 PM 

Caster Class Servants

-Registry of all caster class servants-50%76%88%Loaded...-----Name: MedeaSpecies: Heroic Spirit, Anti-HeroGender: FemaleHeight: 163 cmWeight: 51 kgLikes: Men of few words and sincerity, girls in cute clothesDislikes: MusclesAlignment: Neutral EvilPersonality:  Cruel and cold-hearted, she is a genuine wicked woman who does not choose the means to achieve her objectives and makes evil designs her forte. However, such personality was established as a reaction of the fate imposed on her. A tragical woman who, a result of constantly facing betrayal, ended up falling on the standpoint of betraying people herself. As she began to betray her original Master, Atrum Galliasta, Caster was shown to possess a surprising amount of morality as she freed the children that Atram had planned to sacrifice, before completely destroying his workshop. While she was about to disappear after killing her first Master, she lamented that she would disappear before being able to fight. She would disappear unable to do anything as a pitiful Servant summoned only to be trampled upon. While such a situation was vexing, it was not out of the ordinary for her. It had always been that way for her, as she has always been used as a tool by others. She had always been treated unreasonably, and she was never once understood by anyone. Her life was always controlled by someone else, and her mind was destroyed at a young age to save a hero chosen by the gods. She was cursed to blindly love a man she had never seen just because he was favored by the goddess of beauty, which led to her being forced to betray her own father and country. She was originally an innocent person, but after suffering from repeated betrayal, she thought "Hmmm, fine, I might as well sink to rock bottom". Because of this, she was tainted by evil. Class Skills: Territory Creation (A), Item Construction (A)Personal Skills: High Speed Divine Words (A), Argon Coin: The Golden Fleece, Teachings of Circe (A)Noble Phantasm(s): Rule Breaker: All Spells Must Be Broken (破戒すべき全ての符ルールブレイカー, Hakaisubeki Subete no FuRÅ«ru Bureikā, also translated as Destroyer of All Talismans) is a weapon that materializes and embodies the Divinity of the Witch of Betrayal. It is an iridescent and jagged dagger that is thin, brittle, and blunt. Its effectively nonexistent in its capacity as a weapon, comparable to that of a regular dagger at most, and it would not be suitable for even killing a single person. Caster is able to use it against normal humans, slaying her original Master and cleanly cutting off Shirou's arm without issue. Shown by the complex shape of the blade, its actual purpose is that of a key used for rituals that is described by Caster as an "indulgence from the Age of Gods that has forgiven anything for one purpose." Such ceremonial knives are designed as mere decoration, and like those, Rule Breaker was created under the school of thought that it was never to be used as a weapon.While its uses are limited under normal means, it has high effectiveness in the Holy Grail War due to being able to manipulate the Servant System. It is a blade of betrayal that will sever all connections between a Master and Servant by destroying every single rule that controls them, giving full control of the Master's Command Spells to Caster. She uses this on both Saber and Archer, causing Shirou and Rin's Command Spells to instantly disappear and transfer to Caster after their contracts are nullified. She can also turn the dagger on herself, severing her contract with her Master without establishing a new one in its place. This does not seem to do anything to the Command Spells as Atrum Galliasta did not lose his after Caster severed their contract this way; however, without a contract, they become vestigial and useless in Galliasta's attempts to force Caster to commit suicide. The Servants themselves must be the target as it has no effect on Shirou's contract with Saber from simply stabbing his flesh. It is also capable of severing Angra Mainyu's hold on Sakura Matou after it is projected by Shirou.Medea's NP-----Name: NitocrisSpecies: Servant, Human, MagusGender: FemaleHeight: 162 cmWeight: 51 kgLikes: Her mirrorDislikes: Her quick temper and jumping to conclusionsAlignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:  Fundamentally, Nitocris is a wise and graceful woman, always being calm towards crises and dangers, and she possesses the emotional strength and intelligence to make it possible for her to deduce the very best move… or that is expected of her, but there is a reason why she repeatedly jumps to the wrong conclusion and why she is often short-tempered. It is because she has a fierce will burning brightly inside of her heart. Even if she was a queen who was pushed up as a puppet, Nitocris is still a child of god, and she properly possesses the self-awareness of being a Pharaoh, a ruler who reaches for godhood————or so it should be; but she ends up cowering before great Pharaohs such as the Sun King Ozymandias and the King of Conquerors Iskandar. Consequently, Nitocris massacred the influential people who tried to turn the Pharaoh into an influential tool. The reason why she killed them is not only because she wanted vengeance for her brothers, but because the splendor that is the Pharaoh should not be defiled by the lower classes, and that is surely no doubt for the sake of the Pharaohs that will continue to exist for the next millennia and beyond———— Nitocris comes into contact with the protagonist as an “allied partner”. The wish she wants to make on the Holy Grail is “for my brothers to live peacefully in the Eternal Paradise.” For Nitocris who became a Heroic Spirit, she does not know if her assassinated brothers had made their entry onto the road that leads into the “Eternal Paradise” in the afterlife of ancient Egypt without any problems and as should be expected; therefore, she has no choice but to wish. Class Skills:  Territory Creation (A Rank): Creates a “Workshop” that is an advantageous position to oneself as a magus. Because she possesses Rank A in this skill, it is possible to create a “Temple”, which is superior to a “Workshop”. Item Construction (B+ Rank): Produces devices that carry magical energy. Nitocris is restricted to only being able to produce devices related to Egyptian magic. Many tools and devices manufactured with modern magecraft, such as golems, homunculi, miracle drugs, etc., are objects that even resembles the ones in Egyptian magic, but the ones in Egyptian magic are also by far more specialized in its versatility, and the color of its magic is darker. Because of this Skill, the tools and items created by Nitocris always have holy inscriptions engraved on them. Divinity (B Rank): Nitocris is regarded as a child of the Sky God Horus. As such, she boasts high Divine Spirit aptitude. The Pharaoh is the ruler that reigns over the people of ancient Egypt on the land they govern, while simultaneously, it is a person who reaches the gods, attaining godhood. That being the case, they exist as a god more than as a ruler. A pharaoh has his divinity change in accordance with factors such as the era and etc. Personal Skills:  Egyptian Magecraft (A Rank): Denotes one’s ownership of the Magic Crest of ancient Egypt. The owner of this Skill is given a plus modifier towards checks related to necromancy magic. High-Speed Divine Words (B Rank): The ability to speak magical incantations at an accelerated speed. By using a language from the Age of Gods, Great Magic can be cast at the speed of Single-Action spells. Affection of the Sky God (B Rank): A Pharaoh’s Divinity changes in accordance to the era, etc., but she is regarded as a child of the Sky God Horus, as well as his incarnation. Noble Phantasm(s):  Anpu Neb Ta Djeser: Nether Mirror Tome (冥鏡宝典 アンプゥ・ネブ・タ・ジェセル, Meikyoku HōtenAnpwu Nebu Ta Jezeru) is the Noble Phantasm of Nitocris. A mirror that projects things that do not exist in reality. It does not function as an optical mirror. What is reflected is nothing but a grotesque and dreadful darkness that is constantly repulsive. Nitocris describes this as a mirror that reflects the netherworld, or maybe, the figure of a spiritual world of darkness, but the details are unknown. There is also the possibility that it projects her mind. Whether it is indeed the extension of the dark abyss of the underworld, or a demonic prison manufactured by the ancient Egyptian gods, or nothing more than something forming due to the magical power welling up inside of her, what spectacle really exists on the opposite side of the mirror? Nitocris NP-----Name: Artoria AvalonSpecies: FairyGender: FemaleHeight: 154 cmWeight: 42 kgLikes: ChocolatesDislikes: Nothing in particular"There are many things. But that's due to my weakness. One day, I want to have a heart that can accept any kind of lie."Alignment: Neutral GoodPersonality:   An innocent and very energetic girl. Artoria has the figure of a perfectly commonplace girl who hates to lose, is strong in the face of criticism and adversity, values the surrounding atmosphere more than anything else, and hides her true feelings from everyone. This Artoria was summoned to Chaldea earlier. Her relationship with the Master is said to be more along the lines of "a fellow friend one can rely on" rather than say "a hero and a mage". Staring in wonder when looking at the King of Knights Artoria, becoming depressed when looking at the Artoria who became a tyrant, and happily smiling while saying "That looks nice!" from the bottom of her heart when looking at the swimsuit Artoria; such is this Artoria. She knows her destiny but is afraid to face it and wishes that she was not the Child of Prophecy. Feeling unworthy of and not wanting such a lofty title, she does her best to hide her true identity, but she gets noticeably nervous whenever someone asks about the Child of Prophecy’s identity. When people do find out about her true identity, they usually react with doubt and surprise since she is initially weaker than the average fairy. Artoria, for her part, just wants to be considered a normal girl. She is aware that most people only to support her in fulfilling her destiny for their own self-serving ends and their self-preservation. But she also knows when people want to genuinely support her, even accepting worthless junk given as gifts because she can see the gratitude in their eyes. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (A Rank): Cancel spells of A-Rank or below, no matter what greater Magecraft it is. Item Construction (B Rank): Able to create tools that harbor Magical Energy. That said...the most common ones are "activated by running magical energy through them/one-time uses". The latter mostly resemble bombs. Territory Creation (EX Rank): The one who stands within the white walls of Camelot—stronghold of the Human Order. She gives form to one of the greatest defensive formations in a confrontation with a "Threat to Humanity". One's Own Magic (B Rank): No information available. Fairy Eyes (A Rank): Not the Mystic Eyes that people possess, but the field of vision that "switches over the world", which fairies are endowed with from birth. The fairy eyes possessed by high ranking fairies are described as eyes capable of seeing through all lies and projecting the truth. Since good will and ill will are both lumped together by fairies, this is a mostly meaningless supernatural power as far as they are concerned. Still, nothing good will come out from a human that feels perplexed by the differences between good and evil possessing these eyes. Because of these eyes, Artoria Caster could see all the lies and true intentions of people. This is why, as far as she is concerned, the human world is a "storm of ill will" and both fairies and humans felt equally "scary, disgusting". The only thing she saw in her dreams while sleeping was this "storm of ill will". Originally, it wouldn't be surprising if this condition made her go mad and caused her to forsake Britain. Still, the only thing that served as a source of hope for her was a small blue star that shined all by itself beyond the storm. Personal Skills:  Charisma of Hope (B Rank): Raised as the Child of Prophecy, Artoria, who began her journey, is endowed with a Charisma where the people feel like they can depend on and expect things from her. Its effect is similar to the “Dreamlike Charisma that raises one’s morale” that the mage Merlin displays. Protection of the Lake (A Rank): A protection given by the Fairies of the Lake. This blessing, or oath, was given to the Child of Prophecy. Avalon le Fae (A Rank): A power concealed under the name "Protection of the Lake". The power possessed by a fairy of paradise to bless life and protect the target's strength of fate from all sorts of corruption. Sword of Selection (EX Rank): A Skill that shows how Artoria, who was chosen along with the Staff of Selection, will eventually reach her fated conclusion. Holy Sword Creation (A Rank): A power concealed under the name "Sword of Selection". A Skill which demonstrated to Artoria Caster the way she ought to be to find her way towards her ending. An Arts version of Merlin's "Hero Creation". Raises Arts performance, grants 1 turn of invincibility (the image of Avalon the scabbard), and grants special attack against a Threat to Humanity. Once this power has truly awoken, everything that she creates will end up gaining the "sword" attribute. Once this power has truly awoken, everything that she creates will end up gaining the "sword"-attribute. Noble Phantasm(s): Around Caliburn: The Star of Hope That Embraces You (きみをいだく希望の星アラウンド・カリバーン, Kimi o Idaku Kibō no HoshiAraundo Karibān?) is the Noble Phantasm of Artoria Caster. The Staff of Selection manifests Artoria Caster's mental world upon the physical world. The "tolling of the bells from Paradise," it strengthens and protects anyone fighting alongside her, but it does not affect herself. She doesn't know the origin of the name of the Noble Phantasm, but that has no effect on its deployment. Within the context of the gameplay of Fate/Grand Order, the Noble Phantasm does affect Artoria Caster in battle in the same way as other units, and the gameplay effect is the same as her other Noble Phantasm, Round of Avalon.Round of Avalon: The Promised Star Which Gathers The True Round (真円集う約束の星ラウンド・オブ・アヴァロン, Shin'en Tsudou Yakusoku no HoshiRaundo obu Avaron?) is the Noble Phantasm of Artoria Avalon. It is the Noble Phantasm Artoria obtained after becoming the Guardian of Britain. It manifests the "Camelot of Twilight," bestowing the gift of a "Knight of the Round Table" to anyone fighting alongside her. Within the context of the gameplay of Fate/Grand Order, it has the same effects as her other Noble Phantasm, Around Caliburn.Artoria NP

Fate/Grand Order, FGO, Fate


11/10/2022 05:10 PM 

🦴 Rules! 🦴

🦴 +18 account, no minors.🦴 Literacy before/during the roleplay!🦴 Please don't leave comments, message me, instead.🦴 Multi-shipping account!🦴 I'll only roleplay on here, not discord, skype, or anywhere else. Sorry!🦴 Romance and mature themes are alright with me, but I have likes and dislikes like most people. So please read through this section, too!Likes: Bondage, Sex Toys, Collars/Leashes, Gags, Blindfolds, Teasing, Nipple/Breast Play, Spanking, and Sexual Punishments (for example: c*ck rings.)Dislikes: Feet, Inflation, Watersports, Knife Play, Wax Play, Sniffing, Farting, Burping, ABDL, DDLG, and Pregnancy/Breeding.

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣

11/10/2022 04:10 PM 

Lancer Class Servants

-Registry of all lancer class servants-50%76%88%Loaded...-----Name: Cú ChulainnSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight: 185 cmWeight: 72 kgLikes: Women with strong will, irrational promisesDislikes: Devious methods, betrayalAlignment: Lawful NeutralPersonality:  Lancer is a fierce, but balanced warrior who enjoys combating a worthy opponent, but at his core he believes in justice and is easy to get along with. He is an agreeable youth acting out the role of one gentle in disposition yet strong in body. He has a playful attitude and takes a very carefree approach to life, but is quick to work himself into a frenzy during a heated battle. He was known as a brave, compassionate, and likeable young man in the legends. He mercilessly killed his enemies on the battlefield, but he respected faith and had the nobility to never once break a promise he had made. He enjoys fishing, hunting, and hitting on cute girls. He is a proud warrior, someone who can't abandon a fight just because he's losing. He's ready to fight until the end, for the sake of his fighting will and also for his Master. He easily loses his cool, especially to insults calling him a dog. He's not interested in killing innocent people, though he still strictly follows the rules of the war to kill bystanders like Shirou. He's very keen on his mission and somehow professional in his "work". He's noble and he can't really stand people who're joking with him or simply betraying his trust. He's also easily touched by others problems and if he chooses to protect someone, he will do his best till the very end. He really enjoys dating women or simply to spend his time in relaxing hobbies like fishing. He regretted nothing in his life, though it was one full of wrong turns. There may have been disappointment, but he does not regret his life one bit. His spear only took away the lives of his loved ones, his close friend and son, but its only regret was that it had been meant to murder a single woman that he was unable to kill. Though it is impossible to swap one's life for another, he thinks saving Bazett from the looping world may allow him to leave the regrets of his youth behind. He only has a complaint about his fate as he tries to save her, that he never has any luck with good women. Class Skills: Magic Resistance (C Rank): Cú Chulainn holds a Magic Resistance of Rank C. Aria of two verses and below are cancelled. Although this skill is ineffective against greater magecraft and Greater Rituals, thanks to possessing A rank Agility, utilizing large-scale magecraft while confronting a Servant with such superior speed is nearly impossible. The skill required to successfully hit him with such invoked magecraft is considerable, so it can be said that he has a "necessary and sufficient" rank of Magic Resistance in terms of close combat.Personal Skills: Battle Continuation (A Rank): Legend tells that the dying Cú Chulainn tied himself to a tree before taking his last breath. For he who possesses such a legend, the dying struggle is particularly fierce. When it comes to defense, his excellent agility and great experience make him an "impregnable wall", allowing him to be confident in fighting both Archer and Saber at once if the goal is occupying them. He doesn’t know when to give up.Disengage (C Rank): Lancer possesses the ability to withdraw from the battlefield in the midst of combat. It also returns disadvantageous battle to the turn it began (turn 1) and skill conditions to its initial values. Due to simultaneously having this skill along with Battle Continuation, Cú Chulainn displays better his real worth in skirmishes than in one-on-one duels. However, since he likes duels vso much, this fact does not really stand out.Divinity (B Rank): This skill defines whether or not a servant possesses Divine Spirit aptitude. The higher it is, the more one is a mixed race of a physical divine spirit. Demigods are fairly common amongst the Legendary Souls drawn from human mythology, although few of them are considered more than second-tier heroes by their adherents. Cú Chulainn, however, inherited the blood of the Absolute One, the main god of his nation's pantheon of immortal beings.Rune Magecraft (B Rank): As depicted in his legend, obtained 18 Original Runes, Norse Runes, after studying magecraft under Scáthach in the Land of Shadows. The Runes are a form of thaumaturgy unique to Northern Europe. The foundation of this craft is the engraving of words of power into stone to induce various mystical events. Having learned an ability that is believed to have been lost to time, Cú naturally boasts skill and knowledge to qualify for the Caster class. Although he is a nearly first-rate master, since he himself sees them as a hindrance he doesn’t usually employ them in combat.Protection from Arrows (B Rank): Cu Chulainn was born with the special ability to deal with projectiles. It's said that it's possible for him to avoid any long range attack as long as he has made visual confirmation of his opponent. He can deal with most projectiles even in conditions where the opponent cannot be visually seen, as shown in his battle against Hassan of the Cursed Arm, where he cancelled the throwing swords hurled from the darkness. He reads the course of the projectile attack by using the sound of cutting air and the enemy's murderous intent.​​​Noble Phantasm(s): Lancer's weapon is the Gáe Bolg, the spear of causation which carries a curse that reverses causality. The wounds inflicted by the spear cannot be healed as the curse of the spear renders them incapable of altering their fate, as long as the spear remains in the world. The weapon has two main techniques which can be classified as separate Noble Phantasms, the first of which reverses causality to always strike the heart, and the second of which unleashes the full potential of the curse to strike the enemy by hurling the spear with overwhelming powerCú's NPAlternate forms: Caster Cú - Having manifested as a Caster, he apparently has imposed upon himself the role as one who guides. Not as a true druid, but as a temporary one, as long as he continues together with his Master, he shall illuminate the path that the Master walks on. Though he is a Pseudo-Servant of Odin, Cú Chulainn is the persona in control of the body.Setanta -  A naive feral boy. Bright and active. Sétanta acts before worrying about things. However, because of the education he received thoroughly from his foster father Fergus and his teacher Scáthach, he also possesses the aspect of an honours student who properly abides by the courtesy that should be displayed towards one’s superiors and adults… But he is free-spirited when no one is looking. Towards his Master, Sétanta treats them like a familiar friend. Towards someone with an age close to his, this is his best way of dealing with someone as far as he is concerned. Sétanta does not particularly have a wish he wants to make on the Holy Grail. Because he knows that no one can grant his wish of “I must become the strongest hero”, except himself. -----Name: Jaguar ManSpecies: Human, Pseudo-servant, guardian spiritGender: FemaleHeight: 165 cmWeight: ???Likes: Three delicious meals a day, sleepDislikes: LionsAlignment: Chaotic NeutralPersonality:  Do you like a Jaguar elder sister? Whether you like her or not, Jaguar is Jaguar. There is no escape. A friendly character, one who is bright and without discrimination. It likely seems to be a strong reflection of the possessed human’s personality. Once Jaguar's mind becomes completely set on something, the target will be certainly teased with for weeks. That means there is no escape. The Jaguar Warrior is proud. One should not expect to earn her trust in a brief period of time, even if one is called her Master. However, if she notices one’s daily endeavours, what one will be able to receive is a Jaguar Stamp, stamped with her paw. If one collects a lot of stamps, someday, it will probably appear to result in one being able to receive an acknowledgement of being her close friend. One cannot help doing their best in order to aim for being her Jaguar-mate (Tezcatlipoca-mate).[2] No matter how one looks at it, the personality of the possessed body is composed of the main host, but that should not be pointed out. The alignment belongs to Jaguar Man, not the possessed human. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (A Rank): Nullifies spells of Rank A or below. In fact, magecraft invoked by modern magi would not be able to wound Jaguar Man. Mad Enhancement (E Rank): The Jaguar is whimsy. Even though she thinks she can comprehend conversations, in reality, she often does not even understand them. Divinity (A Rank): Jaguar Man possesses this Skill at a high rank because although she is purely a Divided Spirit, the Skill is extremely compatible with humans that were possessed by the Jaguar. After witnessing Quetzalcoatl's divinity, Ana claims that Jaguar Man is nothing more than a paper tiger in comparison. Personal Skills:  Jaguar Punch (A Rank): Its formal Skill name is Divine Protection of the Jaguar (ジャガーの加護, Jagā no Kago?). Jaguar Punch is destructive power. A divine protection bestowed by the Jaguar Divine Spirit. She does not feel fear nor pain. It is also a composite Skill that comprises the effects of the Valor Skill and the Instinct Skill. Jaguar Kick (B Rank): Its formal Skill name is Monstrous Strength. Jaguar Kick is another destructive power. At any rate, she alone must survive no matter what it takes. A Skill that senses a will, and like the sort of a strong will. Temporarily amplifies one’s Strength. Primarily an offensive special characteristic possessed only by monsters and Magical Beasts. Increases one’s Strength parameter by one rank upon usage. The duration for this increase depends on the rank of “Monstrous Strength”. Jaguar Eye (A+ Rank): Its formal Skill name is Jaw of the Dark Jungle (暗き密林の顎, Kuraki Mitsurin no Ago?). Jaguar Eye is a beam power. In the situations where she stays on a “forest” field, plus effects are added to all sorts of checks. Similarly, when she is in her "natural territory" of the jungle that springs up in the Babylonia Singularity, she has access to Call of the Jungle (密林の呼び声, Mitsurin no Yobigoe?), granting her a boost in magical energy that allows her to unleash her Noble Phantasm at greater frequency. Noble Phantasm(s): Great Death Claw: The Inescapable Claw of Death (逃れ得ぬ死の鉤爪グレート・デス・クロー, Nogare'enu Shi no KagidzumeGurēto Desu Kurō?) is the Noble Phantasm of Jaguar Man. The “frightening club” held in Jaguar Man’s hand temporarily transforms into a gigantic size, before it smashes the target while it is accompanied with a raging force. She does not understand what is happening, and the opponent is hardly able to evade the attack.Jaguar Man NP-----Name: GarethSpecies: Human, ServantGender: FemaleHeight: 153 cmWeight: 41 kgLikes: Spears, ShieldsDislikes: Oil StainsAlignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:  Gareth highly reveres Lancelot. She seems to normally have a sunny, friendly disposition, and as a result she does not deal well with the stress of the slaughter performed under the Lion King during the Camelot singularity of Fate Grand Order, only wishing to be punished. She had "mummy-like bags" under her eyes after helping to defeat the knights who opposed the Lion King, and although she has "lily-white fingers that are more beautiful than anyone's", they become unrecognizably blackened from constant washing after combat. Brave and faithful like a small puppy, a young knight of tragedy. Once she has grown attached to someone, she will never betray no matter what. Even if it means the death of her. She lives as she always has lived. Honoring chivalry, believing in justice and carrying it out. She is proud of the fact she was accepted by the Knight King, and even now she considers being selected as a member of the round table as the greatest honor of her life. She still admires Sir Lancelot. The day everything ended. The day the knight moved to save Queen Guinevere. She would adore him even if her own form hadn’t so much as entered the knight’s eyes. She would adore him even if… he had known her, yet didn’t hesitate to kill her regardless. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (Rank B): Nullifies Magecraft activated with a two-verse chant or less. Her skill is incapable of blocking Greater Magecraft or Rituals. Riding (Rank B): An expert in jousting, Gareth possesses the riding skill that does not come naturally to Lancers. Personal Skills:  Ring of Transformation (Rank B): Gareth possesses a ring imbued with the Magecraft of disguise. This would usually be treated as a Noble Phantasm, but in this work, it exhibits its effect as a skill. Battle Continuation (Rank C): Gareth possesses the Battle Continuation skill on account of her legend in which she fought a duel spanning two hours. The Wolf Never Sleeps (Rank B++): Upgrade from Battle Continuation. (Fate/Grand Order) Gareth Beaumains (Rank B): While working in the castle disguised as a kitchen boy, Sir Kay nicknamed her “Beaumains (Beautiful Hands)” for her fair and beautiful appearance. At the time, Kay did not realize that it was Gareth in disguise. In other words, Gareth had fair and lustrous skin, and her hands were especially beautiful. Noble Phantasm(s):  Ira Lupus: Rampaging Maiden Wolf (猛り狂う乙女狼イーラ・ルプス, Takeri Kuru'u Otome ŌkamiĪra Rupusu?) is the Noble Phantasm of Gareth.   Gareth’s talent in jousting has been sublimated as a noble phantasm. After hammering in consecutive strikes like a surging wave, she pierces through the enemy with one last finishing thrust. In the past, to protect her dear friend Lady Lyonesse, she defeated such prestigious names as Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Galihodin, Sir Galehaut (Not Galihad), Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Tayle, Sir Sagramore le Desirious, Sir Dodinas le Savage, King Anguish of Ireland, King Carados of Scotland, and King Uriens and King Bagdemagus of Gore all with but a single lance. On another occasion, when she challenged King Arthur himself to joust, the King praised the way she fought as like a ‘Rampaging Wolf’.Gareth NP​​​​​​​

Fate/Grand Order, FGO, Fate

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣

11/10/2022 03:43 PM 

Archer Class Servants

-Registry of all archer class servants-50%76%88%Loaded...-----Name: GilgameshSpecies: Human, Servant, King, GodGender: MaleHeight: 182 cmWeight: 68 kgLikes: Himself, PowerDislikes: Himself, snakesAlignment: Chaotic GoodPersonality:  Gilgamesh greatly differs from most of the sovereigns and leaders in the history of humanity. He placed himself before his nation and the people, and he had neither the curiosity nor desire to conquer, possibly because he had too much in the beginning. He takes the time to enjoy himself, mastering every treasure and every pleasure. With conviction to treat good and evil equally, he has no need for other ideologies and ways of life when the absolute basis is "himself."[8] His actions and way of life left him alone, so Enkidu compared rectifying his attitude to rectifying his solitude.[10] He follows a simple style of ruling, acquiring worthy treasures and guarding them. He exterminates those that stand in the way of his enjoyment without exception. All living beings are "something that is about to die" or "something that will one day die." If he decides that there is a "being that should die this moment", he will simply execute the sentence no matter if they should be a sage or a god. If it is an astute judgment synonymous to universal truth, or even a misrule during a drunken stupor, anything carried out by him, the absolute king, becomes the indisputable sentence of the king. He is extremely arrogant and selfish, believing himself to be the sole potentate and only king of the world even many millennia after his death. He cannot acknowledge the authority of anyone, including that of other kings and especially that of the gods. He considers all those around him as inferior due to this fact, viewing all other kings and heroes as a collection of mongrels, and loathes any individual who would try to be on the same level as him. The only exception is Enkidu, who he considered to be his equal and only friend. He responds to Iskander's request to form an alliance with him by saying "It is unfortunate, but I do not require a second friend. Past and future, my companion will only be one." Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (E (C) rank): He did not have any abilities to resist magecraft during life, so he only gains Magic Resistance as the class ability of the Archer class. He obtains C rank under Tokiomi, allowing him to completely nullify magecraft under two verses, but he is still susceptible to greater magecraft and Greater Rituals. It is lowered under Kirei due to his lack of magical energy, and remains at only the minimal level, rank E, that provides light damage mitigation against magecraft rather than full neutralization. The state of his Magic Resistance matters little, as he is able to neutralize most magecraft with his many items that defend against it. His armor and a shield are able to repel A rank magecraft with ease. Overall, he is much more likely to simply unleash a raging wave of Noble Phantasms against "mongrels" impeding the king by attempting to use large-scale spells, completely crushing them without even giving them the time to cast. Independent Action (A rank): Gilgamesh has a high rank of Independent Action, rank A, allowing him to easily utilize his Noble Phantasms and remain in the world without Tokiomi's backup. He is able to easily ignore his Master's orders, making it possible to stroll around without making his Master aware of his whereabouts. The only way to command him is through the use of Command Spells, but his disposition that does not even contain an ounce of respect for his Master makes utilizing them idly a bad move. Utilizing Noble Phantasms of great power does require backup from his Master. Independent Action (A+ rank): After being materialized, he gains the rank of A+, completely setting him apart from the rest of the Servants by allowing him to operate without a Master. Exceeding his previous rank, the support of the Master is unnecessary even while unleashing a large amount of magical power. It is an ability that bends the rules, and it allows for his continued materialization as a Servant even after the conclusion of the Holy Grail War for ten years. While he was always able to operate without regard for his Master, gaining a physical body is what allowed for him to remain materialized after the Holy Grail War. While he accepts energy supplied by Kirei from a number of orphans, he claims that the act was unnecessary overall. Personal Skills:  Golden Rule (A rank): He has the skill Golden Rule, being fated to a life that is filled with riches. It does not measure the percentage of gold in one's body, but the chance of attracting gold in one's life. The level of gold provided by rank A will make the user incredibly wealthy to the point where money trouble will be unknown, allowing him to live the life of a nabobWP. While it seems unrelated to battle, it plays a great role in arming him. Claiming all the world's treasures as his own, he obtained the originals of Noble Phantasms preserved in his treasury during that period. Charisma (A+ rank): He has the highest rank of Charisma with the influence to build a grand empire on a global scale. He is often praised as the greatest king, so his ability to command and lead great armies is excellent. Being such a rare talent, with even a B rank being sufficient enough to lead a nation, his A+ rank makes it no longer a matter of popularity or skill, but closer to something like sorcery or curse. His ego and self-confidence can surely boost the morale of any army led by him to an extremely high level, allowing them to gain a tremendous increase in abilities. Collector (Ex rank): is the "talent" to collect high quality goods—a "luck" that draws rare items into the possession of the Servant. However, because it is the Servant that owns this Skill, the Servant's Master derives no benefit from this Personal Skill. Gilgamesh is a collector of treasures. "Gathering all the treasures of the earth" is his habit, but it is not a metaphor either. Within his era, he aggregated, paid and sealed unto his collection all the fruits of civilization. Rather than "possession of individual items", it would be more appropriate to say that the true treasure he grasped was "the very essence of human ingenuity." All that falls beyond the Treasury of the King are those creations that came of "new concepts" crafted by Post-Humans and items derived of the civilizations of other celestial bodies. Noble Phantasm(s):  He is placed into the Archer class because of his main Noble Phantasm, Gate of Babylon. It grants him access to all of the world's treasures that he collected during his life, which include prototypes of other heroes' Noble Phantasms, and he can launch them as the strongest arrows towards his opponents. While he may sometimes choose to wield them as regular weapons, he mainly fights by raining down an overwhelming amount of weapons on his opponents, each of them fired with godspeed and fatal power. Saber weakened as Shirou's servant believes the only way to stand a chance against him is to take him down before he gets serious and uses Ea.Gilgamesh NP Variants: Caster Gilgamesh -  Differently, from when he is an Archer, his way of being in this form is not of a hero that personifies raging power, but that of a wise king that governs the masses. Mankind's oldest hero, the King of Heroes Gilgamesh. Why does he manifest as a Caster? Pulling out countless numbers of magic wands from his Noble Phantasm "King's Treasure" and unleashing various forms of attacks; that figure of his certainly appears like that of a magus, but in practice, it is far different from a magus who compiles magic reaching towards the mystery of the world. He is also quite different from the author type of Casters that write of words that compose into poems or novels and fold into a book their very own worlds-----That figure of his, is so to speak a magus in shape only.Kid Gilgamesh -  In contrast to his older self, Child-Gil was praised and lauded by the citizens of Uruk to the point of infatuation as tolerant, sage, fair, and moral. The only "flaw" that could be described at the point is that he respected the gods without submitting to them. Adult Gilgamesh declares Child-Gil and his adult self to be fundamentally different, much to the point where he speaks of his childhood self in a secondhand manner. His adult self cannot perceive the memories of his younger self despite an otherwise flawless memory, and he believes Child-Gil to be the same in nature. Gilgamesh says Child-Gil very well may have stopped his growth, or even committed suicide, had he known how his adulthood-self would act. -----Name: ArashSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight: 185 cmWeight: 75 kgLikes: HummusDislikes: A battle where he can't release his true powerAlignment: Chaotic NeutralPersonality:   A cheerful hero, abundant with righteousness. Arash often smiles at and encourages people. During peaceful times, he is a man filled with tolerance and kindness, and yet, he is extremely calm during times of battle. Although he is endowed with a composed character sufficient enough to instantly and meticulously calculate the trajectory of his bow and all his arrows and shoot a countless number of them at the battlefield, there are not many cases for this person to display that face to others. A man who does what must be done at a time where it needs to be done. There is no hesitation. There is no distress. No matter what kind of era/place it is, he will surely accept the wishes of everybody who desires peace. Arash does not double-deal with anybody. Particularly, he is frank from the beginning in regards to his Master. It is improbable for him to betray his Master because, rather than loyalty, he equates him or her as a partner that should be trusted. When talking to someone really close to him, he always keeps a sense of distance to a degree so he does not hit something sensitive and come off as discourteous and impolite. Arash holds no wish to make on the Holy Grail. He lives as a "hero" to save innocent people, and nothing about him will change from the time when he was alive. Even now, he has not forgotten: how he once lived as a hero who saved the people, how he once waged everything for the sake of the people. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (C Rank): Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against magecraft on the level of greater magecraft and Greater Rituals. Independent Action (C Rank): Arash is able to stay in the world for one day without a Master. Personal Skills:  Robust Health (EX Rank): A Skill that is made up of anecdotes of "not receiving a wound on the battlefield" and "never becoming sick even once since birth". It is also a composite Skill and includes Poison Resistance and a boost in stamina. Arash who is strongly endowed with the vestiges of the Age of Gods was born with especially robust health. END parameter is ranked up and attacks received have their damage reduced. Thanks to this skill, Arash is durable enough to survive a sneak attack of Lancelot's Arondight Overload and despite it causing him great injuries, he was still able to climb up from the bottom of the valley to reach the Hassan village and fire his Noble Phantasm. Clairvoyance (A Rank): For Arash, who has an A Rank in this Skill, one type of future sight (predicting the future) and even mind-reading is possible. No one is able to escape his insight and inception, not even Bedivere's purpose in the Camelot Singularity and his various sins are able to remain hidden from him. Bow and Arrow Creation (A Rank): The goddess Armaiti gave him wisdom but the designer and the creator of the bow was Arash. As long as he has the materials, he can instantly make a bow and arrows. A bow needs physical materials; however, arrows can be made by using his magical energy. Because of this, Arash can intermittently fire a countless number of arrows. Noble Phantasm(s):  Stella: Lone Meteor (流星一条ステラ, RyÅ«sei IchijōSutera?) is the "Ultimate Shot" used by Arash. A famous legend of an arrow shot with all of Arash's might. It is a maximum range, long-range attack that literally "Divides the Earth", bringing an end to all kinds of strife. Its aggregate amount of pure energy is comparable to even an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm.Because of such properties - which does not converge in a single point, but instead display its effects over a wide area - his Noble Phantasm is classified as Anti-Army. Though classified as Anti-Army, it in fact has the power of an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm, and when taking into consideration its range, it would probably even correspond to an Anti-Country Noble Phantasm. However, it can only be employed once for its usage always results in Arash's death, simultaneously destroying him and the Noble Phantasm, and in a sense, it is a "Double Broken Phantasm".Arash NP-----Name: Oda NobunagaSpecies: Human, ServantGender: FemaleHeight: 172 cmWeight: 43 kgLikes: UnknownDislikes: UnknownAlignment: Lawful NeutralPersonality:  Haughty and self-confident, she possesses a flexible way of thinking that loves new things and is not bound by conservatism and common sense. Nobunaga had worked vigorously towards the unification of the country, but her end came from the insurrection of a vassal. She shows no regret about that in itself, saying it was "something that couldn't be helped". Does not particularly have a wish for the Holy Grail, but it is very likely that, due to her tendency for unusual ideas, she may use the Holy Grail itself to make some sort of mess. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (B Rank): Nullifies all Magecraft that requires less than three verses. It is hard to damage her even with greater magecraft or ritual spells. Major Magatsu implied that a single Command Spell with vague orders would not work on Oda Nobunaga, and that only if Kaname Asama used all three of them on her would it have some effect. He says that trying to force her into suicide wouldn't work anyway. Independent Action (B Rank): The ability to act independently for a period even if Magical Energy supply from the Master is severed. At B rank, even if he loses his Master he is able to stay materialized for a period of 2 days. Seriously Nobu, that a scout ability ain’t it![ Personal Skills:  Unifying the Nation by Force - Innovation (A Rank): A unique skill belonging to Nobunaga, revolutioner of the era. A conceptual revolution that imposes the new upon the old. It grants modifiers leaning more in one's favor the higher the opponent's rank in Divinity or Mystery or the more that opponent is a Heroic Spirit who is a guardian of the establishment. With this, Nobunaga is able to fight advantageously against Heroic Spirits and Noble Phantasms possessing “divinity” and “mystery”. On the other hand, the more modern or lacking in mystery an opponent is, not only will this lose its effect, but her own skills and Noble Phantasms will become weaker against them as well. Even while being boosted by this skill, Nobunaga is unable to damage Oryou, Sakamoto Ryouma's partner. Once Oryou's Rampage skill is triggered, Oryou defeats Oda Nobunaga in close range combat. When Oryou is about to finish her off, Nobunaga manages to land a solid hit with her rifle, leaving her out of action. This skill is renamed as "Unifying the Nation by Force" in Fate/Grand Order. Demon King (A Rank): A monster that had her past’s way of being distorted later on due to the image she had when she was alive. It allows for the changing of her abilities and appearance. In Archer's case, since she called herself the Demon King during life, it is possible to activate and deactivate this skill at will. She can[[ also obtain all of its benefits without any downsides. A skill similar yet different to Innocent Monster. Strategy (B Rank): The ability to obtain victory before the battle even begins by utilising tools like diplomacy or logistics. She's famous for pulling off one of the greatest surprise attacks in Japanese history. During the Battle of Okehazama she executed an unparalleled form of surprise attack; however, it had been a fluke. In Nobunaga’s lifetime, it had been the one great battle that overturn strategic defeat into tactical victory, but that fight had been a desperation on her part. Even now she still reflects on it. Charisma (B- Rank): The ability and disposition in commanding armies. Improves the ability of her own army during group battle. Charisma is a rare talent, and it can be said that B rank is sufficient for a leader of a country. It is B- rank due to the inconsistencies in its efficacy. Noble Phantasm(s):  Nobunaga's main Noble Phantasm is Three Line Formation. It deploys and fires three thousand matchlocks at once. Their attack power increases against Heroic Spirits with the Riding skill. Although this effect would also apply along with her Innovation skill when used against Sakamoto Ryouma, it fails to take down his Like a Soaring Dragon Noble Phantasm. Her second Noble Phantasm is Demon King of the Sixth Heaven. The true Noble Phantasm of Demon King Nobunaga, destroyer of gods and Buddhas. A Reality Marble that transforms her into an existence wielding an absolute power against those possessing Mystery and Divinity. For those possessing a high divinity, it is hard to even maintain their existence within it. However, those with low divinity would as expected only feel a little hot. She used it to defeat Sakamoto Ryouma's Like a Soaring Dragon.Oda NP -----Name: OrionSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight: 230 cmWeight: 187 kgLikes: Hunting chicksDislikes: Gods except ArtemisAlignment: Chaotic NeutralPersonality:   He’s a hardcore playboy… but, most importantly he’s a very cheerful… pitiful… human full of drama that was loved by the moon goddess Artemis.« Theft begins with lies. Womanizing begins with handsomeness. Romance begins with Orion. »(Artemis)A notorious playboy in the olden days from the present. After being shot to death by Artemis, due to her actions, Orion became adorable (... adorable?) as he was transformed into a mascot character. Characteristically, Orion is lazy and irresponsible, yet he is shrewd too, occasionally evading Artemis' accusations of having an affair splendidly. In relation to Artemis, as he is in the vicinity of her trying to have an affair that will breach their relationship, it can be said to be a feeling that he is constantly in danger for being unfaithful. They are less like a married couple, and more like lovers who similarly cannot avoid each other, and yet likewise, they can avoid each other. However, in the case Artemis falls into a crisis, he is resourceful to a degree to come to her aid, even being truly reckless in doing so.Orion is dumbfounded towards Artemis' passionate approach, and there is a chance he will make an attack on various women and female Servants, but sadly he is just a mascot character after all, so it is all futile. Furthermore, there is also the fact that he is not cute enough to be called a mascot. Since Orion is an irresponsible lady-killer that likes women and flirting, he has a better affinity with a male Master whom he can repetitively amuse himself in foolish talks. Class Skills:  Independent Action (EX Rank): No information available. Blessing of the Sea God (B Rank): The child of Poseidon. A subspecies skill of Divinity. Besides being able to run on the sea, he can eternally move inside the sea. Moreover, he can freely call rain, and Orion mainly made a heavy use of the situation of “it’s like the incessantly falling rain bathes a usually cheerful man that is crying” to captivate women. (It’s a pattern that it didn’t work really well) Curse of Scorpio (D Rank): One of Orion’s numerous causes of death. He dislikes scorpions so much that is said that the constellation Orion withdraws when the scorpion comes. Personal Skills:  Stout Arm of Brutality (EX Rank): The stout arms that strangled a lion. In front of that simple violence, even demonic beings and Phantasmal Beasts run in fear. Tearing off coins is his strong point, and he can crush even the chin of Cerberus. It can truly be said to be peerless strength. Pressure of the Moon Goddess (EX Rank): Affection from the Goddess Artemis, a lover(?) Great pressure is received from the name. Terribly strong pressure + buff that trains the body naturally. All statuses, including magic and good luck, are upgraded, and particularly physical strength is boosted by two ranks. Bowman of Three Stars (A+ Rank): Extolled as Greece’s first huntsman, and counting with Artemis’ blessing, his skill the best on earth. Having an anecdote of three stars (Tri-Star) as a constellation, he has acquired skill with the bow exceeding that of heroes born in different times... But. There are fatal pitfalls. In other words, the one loved by this star will be loved by a god (in particular a goddess). His conclusion may have been determined at this point, it may, it may... Mind's Eye (Fake) (Above B- Rank): Danger avoidance according to one’s intuition/sixth sense. Because Orion was a hunter blessed with the utmost talent, he would yawn carefreely, no matter what kind of predicament he was in too. Since this is originally Orion’s own Skill, it is slightly Ranked-Down to B- when summoned along with Artemis. Its proper rank when summoned regularly is unknown. Noble Phantasm(s):  Orion's first Noble Phantasms is Artemis Hagnós with which Orion is substantially strengthened by Artemis, albeit temporarily. The reason it’s classified as Anti-Army is that it’s a Blessing that transforms one into a being that could rival an army all by himself. Orion's second Noble Phantasm is Orion Hórkos. An attack that negates all defensive Skills, Noble Phantasms, etc. and increases in power if the target has demonic or animalistic traits. When he is summoned as a Grand Archer, it degrades every beast into a state where they are all within his reach. Even when it comes to an infinitely multiplying enemy, as long as they are withing his range, they will be automatically killed. Orion uses it twice with his Aegis Eclipse bow without revealing his true identity as a Grand Servant. One arrow would be used to eliminate Artemis's defenses, and the other one to destroy her main unit. Orion only gets two shots, not just because there are only two arrows, but because that is as much as his Saint Graph can handle before it starts coming apart at the seams. ​Name: TristanSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight:  186 cmWeight:  78 kgLikes: LoveDislikes: "I am not fond of callousness, such as the kind that is expressed by one who abruptly ends a conversation exclaiming, "You do not understand the human heart.""Alignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:   Ever known as the "Child of Sadness", being a downer is a normal condition for Tristan. A narcissist slightly intoxicated with himself. However, since his circumstances are genuinely tragic, it's hard to call him out on it. The type that perceives things tragically and ends up thinking that every mistake is his fault. His thoughts are calm, his tactics precise; yet where it concerns women, his reason is shaken, in a good way. (For example, if his Master is female and someone had taken her hostage, even if it is presumably a trap, he would still go and walk in anyways). A member of the Knights of the Round Table. Perhaps it was due to his days of wandering (or to put it more accurately, it was due to him being included from other legends into the Legend of King Arthur), but Tristan's loyalty to the king is not absolute, or better put, less fanatic. However, he felt deep shame from leaving his service under the king, and it was during his following service where he set his mind to be completely faithful. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (B Rank): Cancel spells with a chant below three verses. Even if targeted by greater magecraft and Greater Rituals, it is difficult for them to be affected.[3] Independent Action (B Rank): It is possible for a Servant to stay in the world for two days without a Master. However, this is the ideal value achieved by maximally conserving mana and avoiding battle and Noble Phantasm usage. Personal Skills:  Harp of Healing (C Rank): A Skill that denotes Tristan's musical performance which makes use of the bowstring in his Noble Phantasm. Suppresses allies' mental disturbances, while opponents loses their fighting spirit. Unblessed Birth (B Rank): A Skill that shows one that is to be born with a sad fate. Because of that birth, lamentation follows him around, and Tristan was called the Child of Sadness. Adds a bonus to his performance of musical instruments because of his singing voice that is filled with sadness. Admonishment of the King of Knights (B Rank): “The king does not understand the hearts of men—————” The decisive trauma carved into the King of Knights. Regarding the legend, it is a sad admonition similar to having one’s heart gouged out, but the Knights of the Round Table that are summoned as Servants unanimously informed the king as such: “Nay, we do not know what is your greatest failure.”[3] As for Tristan himself, regarding the last words he left behind, because the remark was too cruel, he is leaning against a state of extreme remorse. Weakness (Poison) (D Rank): Regarding his legend, Tristan was weakened by poison on countless occasions that drove him onto the verge of death, so his resistance to poison is lowered to some extent. However, when serving the Lion King during the Camelot Singularity, his Gift of "Inversion" nullifies this weakness. Noble Phantasm(s):​​​​​​ Failnaught: Fantasia of Lamentation (痛哭の幻奏フェイルノート, TsÅ«koku no GensōFeirunōto?) is the Noble Phantasm of Tristan. Tristan’s bow was called a “bow that always hit its target”… but the form of this Noble Phantasm is nothing but a mere “string”. He used the string of his favorite harp, and he flicks off the air by shaking this string, firing what should be called a vacuum arrow. Because the velocity of the arrow, the bow’s angle adjustments, and above all, the loading speed of its arrows are all unusual, it is almost impossible to avoid the entire bullet, no matter how fast the hero is that excels in speed. It seems that the only ways for one to oppose this is by jumping dimensions, move one’s body outside of its range, and so forth. For the different ways to use this string, Tristan can take up tactics such as tearing up, slicing up and tying down the opponent. Furthermore, if there is a location that is an obstacle, such as a forest, etc., he can insert traps like “foot entanglements (snares)”, and so forth. The instant a foot takes one step onto the mysterious vacuum trap that was laying there, the enemy floats into midair and is chopped up into pieces. How scary.​​​​​​​

Fate/Grand Order, FGO, Fate

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣

11/10/2022 03:01 PM 

Saber Class Servants

-Registry of all saber class servants-50%76%88%Loaded...-----Name: Miyamoto MusashiSpecies: Human, ServantGender: FemaleHeight: 167 cmWeight: 56 kgLikes: Training with swordsDislikes: People who trample on the pride of others for fun, Whoever attack her when she's hungryAlignment: Chaotic GoodPersonality:  As you see, the person herself has a relaxed, open attitude that never gets worked up. Having no particular interest in victory or prestige, yet sloven with alcohol, a sucker for money and weak against free food. However, all those who confronted and were beaten by her in battle said this in the end: ───a vibrant flower of tengen. Her sword reaches the heights of nothingness. Cheerful and openhearted, a female swordsman that is lively yet dignified. Constantly full of pride, acting complacently, but that does not mean she is looking down on her opponent. She is merely enjoying life. Her way of expressing emotions is somewhat great. She greatly laughs and gets greatly surprised. While she has a broad-minded personality that laughs off at most things, due being “someone who masters the way of the sword” at her roots, she is very dry and severe in regards to the taking of lives. That being said, she falls in love easily and likes to be depended on very much. She also likes to be praised very much. Weak to flattery. A banchou disposition that loves a brawl. Although she has a sense of justice, she never preaches to be righteous herself. Fundamentally a carefree wandering vagabond, but she becomes ruthless when coming across scenes such as: « A one-sided massacre.”“Trampling on people’s dignity, convictions for fun”“Stealing my food when I’m hungry. » (Musashi) She is happy about the other world's Musashi became a really famous figure. « Eh? The Musashi in this world is a man?”“And also extremely famous? What a surprise! » (Musashi) Class Skills: Magic Resistance (A Rank): Witchcraft, ninjutsu and evil spirits tempting the human realm are nothing to be afraid of. A swordsman does not need to be a master to ward off, in a single stroke, techniques that do not have a sword’s heart. No matter the type of Greater Ritual, she can cut down any magecraft ranked A or lower. Despite possessing this innate resistance to magecraft, not even her would be able to escape unscathed if she received a direct hit of any of Ashiya Douman's attacks.Personal Skills:  Heavenly Eye (A Rank): A Mystic Eye ability that permits the resolution of a desired result as "inevitable," by way of committing the entirety of the user's existence to the act of achieving the outcome. In practice, Musashi's application of the Heavenly Eye generally defines that “cutting a certain place”. For example, once she has decided to “cut the opponent’s right arm”, she will sever said right arm by taking all and every measure. As a result, her attack becomes the optimal answer for a slash - “a sword stroke without anything pointless, which makes even time and space yield”. A power to take all the “measures for the sake of achieving an objective” and “narrowing them down to one”. You might as well say that this is an extremely unique set of mystic eyes, which confines the naturally infinite futures into “just a single” result. In the Shimosa Singularity her Heavenly Eye is blocked by Rider of KālasÅ«tra Hell to much of Houzouin Inshun's surprise. Fifth Force (A Rank): A stance that instantly maximizes power, the main advantage of using two swords. The Niten Ichi-ryuu is a style that fights while going along with the circumstances, letting the sword fight as it wants to, but in exceptional situations when she is facing against a powerful opponent; when she is facing against destiny, she calms herself down, turns her sword’s heart into Zero, and takes the stance. The Book of Five Rings (- Rank): Right before death, Musashi compiled the mental state he attained during his lifetime, his cultivated techniques, into one book. Divided into the five volumes of Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Void, this book was the culmination of the human being called “Musashi”. The Book of Five Rings gives an outline of the Niten Ichi-ryu and explains its ideology as an art of war in the Book of Earth, explains concrete techniques on the Book of Water, talks about the art of war in the dimensions of tactics and strategy, and - just like the above-mentioned - explains the fundamental understanding of the Niten Ichi-ryu by means of a repudiation of other schools. Finally, it has been said that Musashi’s own understanding of “emptiness”, as well as the above-mentioned technique of “confrontation”, has been written down on the Book of Void. At the end of the Shimosa Singularity she finally reached the Void. Emptiness (A Rank): The highest order a swordsman can attain. The ultimate mental state. It corresponds to the concept of Suigetsu of the YagyÅ« Shinkage-ryÅ«WP. One is nothing, thus invincible. Only a swordsman who has reached the infinite mental state can perceive this. Battle Continuation (EX Rank): Tries every dirty trick in the book to survive. Playing dead not to lose a fight is one of her fortes. She confuses the enemies with her speeches and pulls off amazing comebacks from disgraceful escapes. She is a shameless realist to the core and seems to use "If I win at the end, I'm the winner, right? That's why I have to run away now! After all, if I'm dead, I can't win at the end, can I?" as a convenient excuse for it. This is who Girl Musashi is. Noble Phantasm(s): Six Realms Five Rings - The Divine Figure of Kurikara (六道五輪・倶利伽羅天象りくどうごりん・くりからてんしょう, Rikudō Gorin - Kurikara Tenshō?, localized as "Six Paths, Five Rings: Kurikara Divine Blade") is the Noble Phantasm of Miyamoto Musashi.  When she draws her sword for the Greater Celestial Phenomenon, she mentions Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin’s name. The historical Musashi Miyamoto was a devout of Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin, and he can be considered his guardian deity. Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin is the name given to the heavenly god of the Dazai Prefecture’s Tenmanguu Shrine; in other words, the amalgamation of the thunder god and Japan’s most prominent vengeful spirit Sugawara-no-Michizane and Dai-Jizai Ten Mahesvara (also known as Shiva, the Hindu God of Destruction). Additionally, Dai-Jizai Ten is also considered an avatar of Guanyin. In reality, before Sugawara-no-Michizane started to be worshipped as the heavenly god of scholarship at the end of the Heian Era, he had already been conferred the divine name of Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin, so, putting it bluntly, Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin is Sugawara-no-Michizane’s aspect as a wrathful god traced over to Shiva. It is speculated that the reason Musashi chose the thunder god as the object of his devotion is because most kenjutsu practitioners before him and their schools were devout to the Kashima Shrine, and the god Takemizuchi worshipped there was said to be the thunder god’s ancestor. Takemizuchi, the god of thunder-turned-god of kenjutsu. In response to that, since Musashi chose to perfect himself on “the art of the sword” instead of “the technique of the sword”, he did not devote himself to the same god of thunder or kenjutsu, but to Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenjin, who also has an aspect as the god of scholarship. Or so it is speculated. Additionally, at the time (and even now), Dai-Jizai Ten was often confused with Ishana Ten, the king of a place named Take-Jizai Ten, due to their similar names. Ishana Ten is considered to be on the same god as Izanagi, the ancestor god of Japan. And, due to how its name is pronounced, he is associated with Shana-ou (Minamoto-no-Yosh*tsune). Since Yosh*tsune was, even at the time, considered the originator of the samurais’ militarization, Ishana is implied to be connected to both Japan and the origin of samurais. Miyamoto's NP-----Name: Senji MuramasaSpecies: Human, pseudo-servantGender: MaleHeight: 167 cmWeight: 58 kgLikes: Sand, bladesDislikes: Grigori RasputinAlignment: Chaotic NeutralPersonality:  An old man who devoted his life to making swords. His appearance is that of a fearless young man, but his spirituality is rather close to his later years. Dashing, no hesitation, and no rot. There are a lot of blunt words, and it be can't said that they are flattering. At first glance, he tends to look like a cold person, but when you associate with him, he's very caring. He is a person with a generous temperament. This is personality of Muramasa himself, but it is also the personality of the body used as a substitute. ........Or, if this young boy's life reached old age, he would attain a similar personality. No matter the person or the content, if asked to do a job, he is work (loveable) person, who has the pride to "finish" it. For work, he sometimes uses ruthless and cold means, but he doesn't seem to only work as a bad person. The ultimate sword he is aiming for is something that can purge the hate. A katana that cleaves through fate, destiny and karma. That can purge one's cause itself. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (B Rank) Territory Creation (A Rank): Muramasa's whole workshop just never stops following him.[2] Senji Muramasa's own workshop ――― acts with a smithy as its base. Obviously it's completely different from that of a mage, but apparently the class skill of Casters was given as an interpretation at the moment of manifesting as a Servant. As the most excellent of craftsmen, he has an exceptional Territory Creation ability. Appreciation of Swords (A Rank): A skill similar yet different to Appreciation of the Arts. Comprehension related to armament. With just one glance, he can grasp how to confront ordinary weapons that aren't Noble Phantasms. In the case of the rank being A or higher, it's possible to understand armament other than swords and blades. It works as accurate advice for allies, and perceives the weak ponts of the enemy. Contemporary Ill Omen (B Rank): A skill derived from the legends revolving around the katana with the signature of Muramasa, the so-called "Wicked Sword Muramasa". The katana created by Senji Muramasa and his school are said to bring misfortune to the rulers of the Tokugawa family. In FGO, it works as a "special attack against governors/kings". Personal Skills:  Sword Trial (B+ Rank): Trying out the sword. Test slashes, test swordsmanship. A method to measure the sharpness and performance of swords. Senji Muramasa can freely draw out the power endowed to a weapon. If he felt like it, he could even draw out its maximum power to the point of the weapon self-destructing in a single stroke. Eye of Karma (A Rank): A dormant ability possessed by the body. A subspecies of the skill Clairvoyance. Improves both static and dynamic visual acuity. Insight specialized only for battle action. With this body he can't set his eyes on destiny like with Clairvoyance… Supposedly, but due to the values of Muramasa, who set his eyes on the "karma" within the flames during his lifetime, the hawk eyes pierce not only the prey, but also their destiny that lies ahead. Flame (EX Rank): Casting and forging with one's whole body and spirit, to the point of burning up oneself. "Every astrigency, every longstanding desire, every unnaturality―――  Everything in order to reach this single stroke". Noble Phantasm(s):  Tsumukari Muramasa (都牟刈村正 ツムカリムラマサ?) is a sword forged by Senji Muramasa. It was used in Shimousa to counter Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's Shimabara Hell Reality Marble. The realisation of Muramasa's ideal sword, the sword is one that can purge resentment, cut through bonds, fate, causality, and destiny, and slice through the idea of karma itself. However, using it will cause him to perish because he is not a god. Tsumukari refers to "Tsumukari-no-Tachi". In other words, it recreates the Divine Construct Ama-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi/Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, which emerged from a tail of Yamata-no-Orochi, the eight-headed, eight-tailed, red-eyed monster slain by Susanoo-no-Mikoto â€•â€•â€• the largest dragon of calamity which boasted the massiveness to span eight valleys and eight peaks."I'm not the invincible swordsman, JÅ«beiWP,I'm not the one praised as a master of espionage, HanzōWP,I'm not the renowned caster Abe-no-Seimei.Why, out of all people, I, a swordsmith, was summoned.For being unable to foresee that, this is your defeat.Once seeking for the ultimate blade.A blade of steel cutting no flesh, nor bones and neither life.What I seek for is the clearance of resentment.The cutting of bonds, fate and destiny.That is, to free oneself from Karma.Upon one's arrival are countless tools.Carved over a thousand blades, forming a pile of swords.This is the place where all paths cross.This is the place where all desires flow.This is the place where all deaths awaitMy whole life was for this single swing.The heart of the blade is right here!Take this, This is my Tsumukari Muramasa!!!"Muramasa NP -----Name: CharlemagneSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight: 176 cmWeight: 69 kgLikes: UnknownDislikes: UnknownAlignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:  A carefree young man who somewhat bluntly says that he views himself as not very suitable to be King of The Franks or Holy Roman Emperor. He bases his aesthetic standard and behaviour on whether something is "cool/awesome" (かっこいい, kakkoii) or not, even if that will be a handicap for the Master, or even to himself. Despite this personality flaw, Astolfo describes Charlemagne as a conscientiously benevolent king that would weep and laugh with his people and also help those who are in need. Charlemagne prefers for people calls him Charlie, Chuck, or Charles and often insists his comrades to call him by the shortened version of his real name, as he considers "Charlemagne" to be "kind of a heavy name for me to carry around these days". This may be an attempt to differentiate himself from Karl der Große. He also expresses initial disapproval of Astolfo's crossdressing, despite Astolfo's insistence in justifying this habit. Charlemagne says that such a hobby would make "Daddy" cry, much to Astolfo's chagrin. He later expresses surprise to Astolfo "that [you] look so good in those". When facing Altera, Charlemagne addresses her as "Sister" (姐さん, Nee-san).  Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (A Rank) Riding (A Rank) Personal Skills:  Holy Knight Emperor (EX Rank): A title skill bestowed to Charlemagne as the one who leads the holy knights (paladins) known as Twelve Peers. It provides a tremendous Charisma, improved attacks against the demonic, improved defences against Divinity, aptitude for weapons of the holy attribute and others. With this skill, the Noble Phantasm “Exemplify the King’s Heroics, O’ Twelve Traveling Swords” becomes useable.[1][2] Mana Burst (Light) (A Rank): A subspecies of Mana Burst that is allowed only to saints, holy maidens, and holy knights. It endows Charlemagne with an advantage against the evil-aligned.[1][2] Over the Royal Road (C Rank): A self-discipline type skill that displays its effects by having the user stick to the attitude of wanting to be a king. It contributes to the improvement of a portion of their parameters, but weakens them upon taking a conduct that violates that kingship. In Charlemagne's case, this means that he "gets weakened when doing something lame" and that "some sort of gauge rises when doing things that he finds cool". Noble Phantasm(s):  Joyeuse Ordre: Exemplify the King's Heroics, O' Twelve Traveling Swords (王勇を示せ、遍く世を巡る十二の輝剣 ジュワユーズ・オルドル, ÅŒyÅ« wo Shimese, Amaneku Yo wo Meguru JÅ«ni no Kō KenJuwayÅ«zu Orudoru?) is the Noble Phantasm of Charlemagne. The holy sword Joyeuse splits and transforms into each weapon of the Twelve Paladins, which then rain down an onslaught. Tellingly, only Charlemagne can use the true power of this mythical sword, and Karl cannot. Charlemagne's Skill Holy Knight Emperor is what allows the activation of this Noble Phantasm.[5] In terms of pure destructive ability, it’s comparable to a blow from Roland’s Durandal with its True Name released. However, as Charlemagne is originally a king, not a knight, he’d be defeated in a head-on collision with someone like Roland.[3] But through Charlemagne’s kingly courage… That is, when showing his dignity as a king, the legends of the Twelve Paladins is infused within that 'illusion’, and one more 'Joyeuse’ is added each time. Instead of being swapped out, they join in. The simple calculation is that it can become thirteen times stronger, however the destructive potential will be further magnified depending on his kingly charisma. Charlie NPName: JasonSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight: 181 cmWeight: 76 kgLikes: Winning without effortDislikes: Fighting on the frontlinesAlignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:   Eh, I'm a Saber? Not a Lancer or a Rider? With his overflowing confidence, placidness, and dignity as a king, he could have been a mostly benevolent ruler. But since he couldn't become king, his confidence turned to arrogance, and his placidness shifted into complacency. Save for a few exceptions, his treatment of his subordinates is extremely sloppy. But once he has his back against the wall, his instincts sharpen, and his commands become precise and accurate. A comment from an Argo crewmate: "Why does he suck so much when he's not cornered?" His relationship with his Master is more bad than good. He's boastful and incompatible with most kinds of people. On rare occasions, he can find a Master he's compatible with him, but when he does, it's when they are in the predicament of their lives. Situations where he doesn't even have the time to say "I ask you, are you my Master?". He'll run screeching and covered in sweat... and after a few laps he'll come up with some plan for a comeback. Jason's greatest skill is his charisma. A natural-born leader, Jason is even capable of convincing Heracles as a Berserker to follow his commands. Indeed, in spite of lacking any genuine combat abilities, Jason was able to lead the Argonauts through his words alone. Jason is a fan of Heracles. He does not take Heracles's defeat, or defeat in general, very well. While some people consider him "useless," and Medea has justifiable reasons for hating him, Jason is a man with good intentions. He simply acts rudely and mercilessly towards anyone who stands in his way. Jason genuinely considers Heracles a friend, and Heracles does the same though also admits that Jason is a fool. On the other hand, Atalanta greatly dislikes him. Jason believes that humans are fundamentally brainless. The fools choose a fool to lead them and act the king, so the country is never at rest, wars break out, and the people starve. That is why Jason believes someone like him has to be the one to seize power. The country Jason seeks to make is one where every citizen can have an education. Of course, they'll never equal his wisdom, so he'll have to compensate for what they lack. As long as everyone obeys him, he'll give them suitable compensation and a prosperous land. A land where everyone feels safe, a land where no one will look at someone monstrous like Heracles and be afraid.  Class Skills:  Riding (B Rank): Talent for riding. Can ride most mounts better than most people but can't mount beasts on the ranks of demonic beasts or holy beasts. Magic Resistance (B Rank): Negates magecraft with three or fewer verses on their activation. It's difficult to harm him even with Greater Magecraft or Ritual Curses. Personal Skills:  The Sought-After Golden Fleece (-): A fleece made of golden wool that he obtained at the end of his adventure. Relatively comforting and pleasant. Epiphany in the Jaws of Death (A Rank): When he gets into a scrape, he can escape with seemingly self-sacrificing moves. He's unsurpassable went it comes to getting epiphanies at the jaws of death. However, Jason strongly hates this ability. After all, he has to go through a life-threatening situation every time he needs a flash of inspiration. The Far Off Sea Route Conquered with Companions (B++ Rank): He pumps those who once boarded the Argo full of courage. Those who never did vaguely feel somewhat encouraged. Consider it a super-limited variant of Charisma's abilities. Noble Phantasm(s):   Astrapste Argo: The Dazzling Ship that Splits the Heavens (天上引き裂きし煌々の船 アストラプスィテ・アルゴー, Tenjō Hikisakishi Kōkō no FuneAsutorapuswite Arugo?) is the Noble Phantasm of Jason. A rescue and support attack from the Argo. The heroes who once boarded (Note: due to the limits of Jason's ability, he can only manifest up to half of them) his ship coordinate a simultaneous attack. In a sense, it's an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm comparable to the great King of Conquerors' own. The more righteous Jason's position in battle is, the more he gets his crewmates' approval, increasing the number of attacks. Conversely, if his position is clearly villainous, a surprising amount of people will be absent from the ship (skipping the job), considerably decreasing its power.Name: Artoria PendragonSpecies: Human, Servant, Dragon, KingGender: FemaleHeight:  154 cmWeight: 42 kgLikes: Well structured meals, stuffed animalsDislikes: Badly structured meals, dressing up too muchAlignment: Lawful GoodPersonality:   Artoria is a strong-willed young woman who usually speaks truthfully but will lie if necessary. She is courageous, determined, and set on winning the Holy Grail. She constantly insists that she is a knight and king above all, and that her gender is of little importance to her and her role. She is resolute in following her own morals, regardless of the more viable, yet underhand, tactics being available. Artoria prefers direct, fair confrontations based upon codes of chivalry. Not even her hunger for the Holy Grail can make her abandon her code of honor. This leads to regular conflicts with Kiritsugu over strategy within the Fourth Holy Grail War. While obtaining the Grail is of the utmost importance, rejecting her chivalry is something she will never do, even if it should put her at a disadvantage. If such came to pass, she would require her Master to use a Command Spell as recompense for treading upon her heart. A Master tends to do well with Artoria when they respect her rules, such as Irisviel being closer to her than her true Master, Kiritsugu. She believes loyalty and respect should be shared between Master and Servant. Thus when a Servant kills their Master, Artoria is enraged to the point she may kill as punishment. If a Servant dies protecting their Master, she protects their sacrifice from ridicule, believing they died honorably. She also expects Heroic Spirit to be treated with respect, displaying utter rage and disgust when Zouken Matou turns Medea’s corpse into a puppet or when Shinji electrocutes Rider as punishment for losing in battle to Artoria herself. If a situation looks dire, Artoria will not hesitant to sacrifice herself to ensure her Master and companions can escape. A firm believer in justice, Artoria cannot stand when evil goes unpunished. She therefore strongly rejected Kiritsugu’s decision to let the other Masters kill Gilles de Rais, as she wanted to stop Gilles as soon as possible before more innocent victims were made. Seeing humans reduced to demons who commit countless atrocities when their lives are threatened was something she witnessed all the time in her life. But precisely because of that, humans need to prove they can still live on with dignity no matter the difficulties that surround them. A knight is the one who can testify to that. Illuminating the battlefield by inspiring awe with his justice, a knight lets those reduced to demons to regain their honor and pride, and become proper humans once more. It is therefore the duty of a knight to put aside their feelings to focus on the greater good. Class Skills: Magic Resistance (A Rank): The immense magical power from Artoria's dragon blood grants her a very strong Magic Resistance that is the highest amongst the Servants, especially due to it having increased in magnitudes upon being summoned in the Saber class. She is capable of completely neutralising grand sorceries involving magic arrays and instant contracts. No matter what kind of large spell, magecraft ranked below A is nullified, even those from the Age of Gods. As such, no modern magi of the highest level can wound her, at least directly. However, she notes that divine mysteries greater than herself, such as True Magic and members of the Phantasmal Species with Divinity, can overwhelm it.  Riding (B Rank): Since “knights” are soldiers who are proficient in mounted warfare, Saber’s rank in Riding is very high. Chariots and normal mounts can easily be ridden, but she is unable to control Pegasi, Griffons, Dragons, and other Magical Beast and Divine Beast ranked members of the Phantasmal Species. She can not handle such high-level beings because her class is not Rider, and due to the fact that she was a King in the Age of Man, she does not have the fortune of having "Legends of Riding Phantasmal Species." She is able to control modern machinery like motorcycles and automobiles in a similar fashion to mounts. The Riding skill is applicable because they are treated as "modern mounts", but it is unclear if it is applicable to aircrafts. While the rank is B under both Shirou and Rin, it is elevated to A while having Kiritsugu as her Master. The ability allows her to completely understand the control of all ridden equipment both known and unknown to her. Even having never driven a car, she is able to make quick decisions that allow her to easily control it on her first time driving. Even if she doesn't know the actual function of a button, she is able to understand the effect it will have once pressed. She is confident in the prospect of piloting a passenger plane or any other mount by sitting on a saddle, seizing a bridle, and managing the rest with instinct. She does not have the opportunity to demonstrate her Riding ability in the Fifth Holy Grail War, but the battles might have developed differently if she were provided with an appropriate mount. She drives both Irisviel's Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coupe and a Yamaha V-Max prepared by Kiritsugu during the Fourth Holy Grail War. Personal Skills: Mana Burst (A Rank): Saber's entire fighting style and strength are based around her Mana Burst skill. With it, she can infuse and accumulate Magical Energy into her weapon and body, momentarily injecting an arbitrary vector that allows for an exceptional boost of her abilities by instantaneously releasing the magical energy to reinforce herself.[1][2][3] In other words, it’s jet propulsion with mana. This Heroic Spirit applies it in sword fights for defense and movement, demonstrating high performance in every aspect.Instinct (A Rank): Artoria possesses the ability to always instantly identify “the best personal course of action” during combat. It is an innate ability unlike something that can be gained by anyone through hard work like Mind's Eye (True). Due to having been strengthened by a degree from the specialty of the Saber class, it is essentially a sixth sense in the realm of predicting the future. Because this skill allows for the prediction of trajectory, it is possible to avoid attacks from firearms, and along with listening to the sound of cutting air, she can be said to have a protection against all projectile weapons. Through this ability, it is also possible to negate the penalties inflicted by visual and auditory interference to a certain extend.Charisma (B Rank): Artoria possess B rank Charisma, a rare talent high enough to be the king of a country. Although Artoria reigned as the king of England, even her strong influence was still insufficient to build a vast empire spanning the world, so its rank isn’t higher. Nevertheless, Artoria possesses the innate ability to command an army. The morale of military forces she commands is extremely high, and in battle, their abilities improve thanks to this skill. Noble Phantasm(s): Artoria's first Noble Phantasm is always Invisible Air, with which she conceals her sword. It does not allow the enemy to determine its range. It is simple, but tremendously effective in hand-to-hand combat. The sword is surrounded by wind that reflects light making it virtually invisible. It is not a vacuum, but the wind whirring around the blade is like a weapon and it seems to increase the damage of the slash.Artoria wields Excalibur, a Divine Construct forged by the planet. The sword works by converting the mana of the wielder into light, that is unleashed from the tip of the blade like a laser beam that destroys everything in its path. Although Artoria can exert energy on the level of a Divine Spirit, she has never been able to fully unleash this Noble Phantasm due to its full power being limited by the Thirteen Restraints. Even though Excalibur's true power can only be invoked with the appearance of a foreign enemy threatening the planet, it remains as the strongest Holy Sword.As a servant, Artoria doesn’t possess Avalon, Excalibur's sheath, since she lost it in life and is yet to die and ascend to the Throne of Heroes. However, the genuine article still exists in the present, serving as her Catalyst for both the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars. Surprisingly, it is not the sword, but its scabbard that truly possesses an outstanding ability. With this Noble Phantasm, Artoria can heal from any wound unless her brain is destroyed. Even the wounds sustained by Enuma Elish are healed in a few minutes without consuming any magical energy. By invoking its True Name, Avalon will deploy a Bounded Field that provides the greatest defense by shutting out all physical interference and placing her in the land of the fairies. It can also nullify the interference of True Magic; thanks to being an existence equivalent to it.Alternate Forms: Artoria Pendragon (Alter) -  A different aspect of the King of Knights devoted to cruelty, greatly unlike the case of the normal Artoria. She is referred to as Saber Alter. A behavior without futility, a cold-hearted personality that makes Artoria seem like a different person, but if one is to carefully come into contact with her, they might notice that what lies at the basis is still the same. Artoria Alter's personality changes vastly from her normal self upon being corrupted by Angra Mainyu, but she cannot be called a villain. She is more of a dark hero who is still an idealist clinging to her own values even after being blackened. After taking in by the hatred of the curse, Artoria Alter comes to the realization that the duty of a hero is to be hated and ostracized, that a hero's only duty is to cut down foes using all their strength. She believes that she was prepared for such an outcome upon drawing Caliburn, and decides to entrust her blade to All the World's Evils. While she still takes her duty as king seriously, believing it is her obligation to those whose lives were lost because of her, she no longer believes in the ideals set for herself and her people. The end was concluded long ago, after all her prayers and glory vanished on the hill in Camlann. While alive, Artoria did not fall into the path of evil even once, but she too had doubts, inner conflicts, hatred towards herself and grief towards the surroundings. This figure, influenced by the curse of the Holy Grail, is someone that had such issues hidden within her raised to the surface and caused her "policy" to go inverse.Artoria Pendragon (Lancer) -  Due to the properties hidden within the Holy Lance, Artoria has changed into an existence close to that of a Divine Spirit’s, a goddess if anything. While she has become more composed, and moreover, more rational than the Artoria of the holy sword, her human nature has not been parted with. Rather, there exists placidity in her choices partly because she became an adult, attaining the ideal way a king ought to be. Artoria, who was summoned to Chaldea as a Servant, knows the beauty of the world. For the sake of taking back the world that shines even without the Farthest Ends, she will fight together with the Master, certainly wielding all the power that she holds.Artoria Pendragon (Lancer Alter)  Even if she exchanges the holy sword for the Holy Lance, the mentality of the King of Knights and the way she ought to be does not change in a big way. She still is the same King of Knights who became a king by acquiring the sword of selection, who opposed assailing foreign enemies, monsters and occasionally even dragons, and who continued to fight to protect her homeland. However, Artoria Alter's values have somewhat changed from exchanging for the Holy Lance as her main armament. She is no doubt self-aware of herself being paranormal, of being feared by the people. King Arthur of the holy sword was a king for the nation, but King Arthur of the Holy Lance was a king that controls the nation. Her solicitude with regards to the weak changed from "solicitude pointing at her compatriots" to "solicitude pointing at the people that should be under her patronage." Her intentions, speeches and conducts has become more forceful and yet, more firmer than the times where she had the holy sword, but as far as the people is concerned, her very manner of speaking has become the views of a tyrant. It is not King Arthur as an idealist, but King Arthur tinted as a realist, and thus, she is comparatively darker. Regarding the powerful Holy Lance handled in her hand, she recognizes it has a "curse" that is bound to be a sacred thing for her. Name: LancelotSpecies: Human, ServantGender: MaleHeight:  191cmWeight:  81kgLikes: His swordsmanshipDislikes: HimselfAlignment: Lawful NeutralPersonality:   In his condition, summoned under the Saber Class is the closest to his original form. Caring for justice, honoring women, loathing evil - this virtuous figure overflowing with romance was acknowledged as the "ideal knight" by King Arthur.[2] « A noble knight? Don't make me laugh. I participated in the destruction of Britain! » (Lancelot) Lancelot himself probably feels more than anyone else that it is an irony for him to be a Saber. And thus Lancelot is convinced that the most appropriate Class for himself is Berserker. Class Skills:  Magic Resistance (B Rank): Cancel spells with a chant below three verses. Even if targeted by greater magecraft and Greater Rituals, it is difficult for them to be affected.[1][2] Riding (B Rank): Most vehicles and animals can be handled with above average skill, even vehicles that did not exist in the time period one was alive in, for they are no exception. However, cannot ride the likes of Phantasmal Species such as Monstrous Beasts. Personal Skills:  Knight of the Lake (A Rank): He was raised from infancy by the Lady of the Lake. Due to that, he is constantly affected by her blessing. Using this skill, he is able to temporarily add a + to any parameter other than LCK (substantially doubling it) Eternal Arms Mastery (A+ Rank): Mastership of combat arts has reached the point of being said to be unrivaled in one's era. By complete the merging of mind, body, and technique, it is possible to make use of full fighting skills even when under the influence of any sort of mental hindrance. Knight of Owner (A+/A++ Rank): An ability Noble Phantasm that grants the attribute to everything he holds, resulting in them becoming so-called "Pseudo Noble Phantasms". Be it an iron pole or an aircraft fighter, it will be treated as a Rank D Noble Phantasm, even though it is considered a Pseudo Noble Phantasm, or Pseudo Phantasm for short. Protection of the Spirits (A Rank): A blessing from Elementals; the capacity to increase one's Luck in dangerous situations. Activation is limited to battlefields, where it is possible to perform feats of arms. ​​​​​​​Noble Phantasm(s): â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹ Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake (無毀なる湖光 アロンダイト, Mukinaru KōkōArondaito?), also known as Fairy Sword Arondight (妖精剣アロンダイト, Yōsei Ken Arondaito?), is a holy sword wielded by Lancelot that is the counterpart of King Arthur's Excalibur. It bears a similar design to that of Excalibur, carved with Fairy Letters to show that it was a Divine Construct not forged by mortal hands. It is a limitless sword capable of receiving any attack without taking damage that shines much like the water of the Lake. It was given only to someone who could be exalted as the "perfect knight", the strongest, bravest and truest knight of an era, which signifies the unrivaled Lancelot out of all those who sat at the Round Table of Camelot. As a Saber, during the time this sword is drawn out, it increases all of Lancelot's parameters by one rank, and due to the legend in which Lancelot slew a dragon, Arondight deals additional damage to Heroic Spirits who have a "dragon" attribute like Artoria.   As a Berserker, the sword has lost its status as a holy sword after Lancelot used it to slay several of his fellow knights who were acting as guards for the execution of Guinevere. His magical energy, filled with his madness and resentment, has dyed the sword pitch-black and caused it to fall to the state of a demonic sword of a mad warrior. Alternate Forms: Lancelot (Berserker) -  As Berserker, his mind is under the effects of Mad Enhancement, limiting his rationality and ability to think. He gives off nothing but murderous intent and the thirst for blood, his deep hatred radiating out from him enough that he can easily be sensed even when he is hidden. He is able to battle with finesse due to his martial prowess, and he shows the ability to recognize that Lancer has been ordered to help him and take him as an ally for a short time. He still recognizes his King, instantly becoming hostile towards her and forgoing any orders in order to fight her. He growls parts of her name, a moan full of malice hardly resembling human speech. Lancelot was known to have extreme loyalty to his King during life as one of the people she considered to be a friend. She believes, even after their armies had clashed, that their hearts should still be the same, as a subject upholding the way of the knight and a king upholding the way of the knight. Saber is shocked in his ability to manifest as Berserker, that he who was the subject of people’s admiration could be reduced to that state. She cannot help but think their eternal partnership was nothing but a naive fantasy onto which she had clung upon seeing him in that state. In one sense, he can be said to be a victim of Saber's righteousness. Saber believes the root of it to stem from her hiding her gender. Seeking punishment for his actions, he was forgiven by the one person who he desired it from the most. The wretchedness he felt from that simple act was overwhelming for him. His guilt weighed down on him the more he adored his king, so his only salvation became to personally bring about her downfall. The atrocities he committed were of an insane and irritable young man, but ultimately driven by his overwhelming love for his king. He hated that she could remain an ideal king even after learning about the affair, and lamented how his king sacrificed herself for the sake of her country. ​​​​​​​

Fate/Grand Order, FGO, Fate


11/09/2022 09:13 PM 

your brain matter ends up on concrete

sundome (すんドめ)translation. stopping the moment before …your brain matter ends up on concrete, or a wad of tissues.Hello reader. You’re curious about Tsukiko-chan, aren’t you? You’re convinced she’s either a divine extraterrestrial or a parasite hosted inside an erogenous flesh suit. But most likely she’s just a regular, cute human girl with quirky habits, while you’re going batsh*t insane.Dialogue in second-person pronouns, like the one above, is supposed to indicate how someone feels about Tsukiko. It could be you, or it could be some unnamed narrator giving you insight about her. It’s entirely up to your interpretation.When first-person language is used, the person saying it heavily depends on context. For example:1. [ I think I’ll call Tsukiko-chan today. ] 2. [ ‘I want to swallow glass’, she thinks. ]Her origins are intentionally kept vague so it’s easier to self-insert into a wide variety of situations. The only constant is that you don’t remember how you met her no matter how hard you try, at least not in the beginning. This detail is important.Miscellaneous information.Tsukiko-chan has parents, but she doesn’t seem to live with them, or they’re never home.She's generally well-received by strangers, co-workers, and friends.By nature, she's extremely curious — ranging from very specific details like the mating cycles of certain bathypelagic fish, to broad concepts like the meaning of life, or which persona waifu is your personal favorite and why.Crucial information.The more time you spend with Tsukiko-chan, the more she will sporadically ask you to do something  outrageous  or out of character. And it ramps up. You can decline of course, and it'll set you onto a different course. But she'll keep trying to get you to do things you normally wouldn’t. Or maybe you would? Who knows.Note. Sometimes I will use this symbol: ➤.It means a critical decision is being made and will affect what happens next, as well as your relationship with her. Genres: psychological, horror, romance, erotica, sliced life. existentialism?  whatever we want it to be, really.   


11/09/2022 03:30 PM 

100 Contestant List (Final)

The everchanging list of accounts belonging to Cfriday101ArtsReborn.When a character dies or is unused, it will be replaced in time.Here are all 100 of the new and old to be used thus far.All in random order, numbered by complete randomness and current activeness.Most have information but as of today I'm updateing such, they are also known as NPC Accounts and are thus roleplayed as such.1: Light Kid Asriel Dreemurr2: Dark Teen Asriel Dreemirr3: Aeriel Dreemurr/GenderBent Asriel Dreemurr4: LI-Quid/LI-Quid The Aquian Initiate 5: Second In Command SquireSword 1.# Nevete TiamatSworn6: Lady Captain Hefessa True Blade7: Tekkheshi of The Wind8: SwapFell Alphys The Bloody9: Lord SroaNort11: Little Red Slicing Hood/Rude Baby Red12: Hiita The Fire Charmer13: General Blue14: Dharc The Dark Charmer15: Dark Kid Asriel Dreemurr (Geoncide Form) (First Form)16: Elite Time Patrol Captain Puddin'17: Tabatha Destroyer of Worlds/Beancia's Asisstant18: Edward The TrueBlade Swordsmaster19: Skye20: Queen Underfell Toriel21: King Sans/StorySwap Sans22: King Alador23: Commander "Myke" Airdawg Jhones24: AbyssFang Kobold SquireScout25: Nightmare Klnoua26: Omni-Stay (Materiel Form)27:Dog-E (General's Attire)28:Paladin Woman29: Nexus Prime (Evil Form)30: Swordsman From A Distant Land31: Zitarika Volkofka (Soldier V I Version)32: Noko Kiben Troshiro33: Rico Kiben Troshiro34: Eli The Second (Eli II))35:President Freeman Plumage36:Ninja Joe37:Karl/Arma38: Haze Shadowstar39: Yagi-Soggoth (LustTale Asriel Dreemurr)40: Captain Mailman41: Bronze Arm Tribe (Lakaota Swamp Warrrior "The Undefeated")42: Wethra The Rain Monk43: Aknem LightMage (First Form)44:The BusinessMan45: Professor Von Keble/Code C.H.I.M.P Base Lab Tech P. Von Keeble46: Ukki Jen/Red The Pipo Monkey Monk47: Lord Specter48: Shade Netkarem49: Red The Fallen Dragon Elder50: Host (Earth 1,000,00,0 Version)51: Mr. Ruby/Noir Spike52: Emproer Spike53: Dark/Negative Spike54: W.D Gaster Asriel Dreemurr/Altertale Asriel Dreemurr/Dr. Albert Sanchez55: Commander Yellow/SARU 1.#/The Yellow Lighting56: Shadow Leon SquallHart57: Nack The Weasel/Fang The Sniper58:Flicka The Fencing Fox of France59:The Pikeman of The Rising Sun60:Lord Shen (Revived)61:King of Sorrows62: Leutenaunt Fox Vixen63:Captain Crow64:Heart Uzebek Umaso65: The Gentaleman66:Missing No.Abra67:Anti Black Coat Nightmare (Red Eyes)68: Giovanni Garavinchi69: Plagus The Plauge Knight/Bat Dap-Dap-Dap70:Elekem/Akakkoa WindWalker71:Dark MegaWoman.EXE72:Time Man73: Snake Man74: Ageless Deity J.U.B.E/Just Your Basic Entitie75: EXO Suit Anubus (First Form)76: Host Ponie (Shaman Form)77: Master Future Dark Kid Asriel Dreemurr78: Maxrria The Faded Light Weight/XIIII79: Monarch Glade 80: Meniphensto81: Mox82:Rexquim83:Dr. Misaki84:Chu-Ske The Mouse Fighter85: Nemo White-Dusk86: Eclipse Half-Shadow87: Professor Starfury-Starflare88:Vadeos/Vampire-Tale Sans89: Team RocketChu (Emma BlackBolt)90: The Red Coat91: The White Coat92: Sally-Bone Assassin Female Sans/GenderBent Sans93: Red Eyes Black Dragon (Avatar Form)94:  Rettia Stone The Rattta Thief95: Shidae 96: Elven Ranger Alora HopeHeart97: Mung Fang The Bat of Longswordsmanship98: When And "The Menu"99: ???: Fighter of Mystery100: King Universa of The Cosmos And Galaxys Prima

Game of Games Tournament Character List. Cfriday101ArtsReborn

Black Listed

11/09/2022 10:37 PM 


Name: Desmond Castro Age: 31Sex: Male Hieght: 5 feet 10 inches Weight: 225Skill: wouldn't you all like to know Bio: Desmond was a boy who was born into foster care system he never knew his real parents. When he was 5 years old he found his first few families. He went from family to family bouncing around as he grew up. He was a kid who always got into trouble found it easy to steal things and was a very effective scrapper from 5 to 10.  At 10 Desmond was just a calm child who enjoyed fighting and sharpening his mind since no else was doing for him. Guess you could say he grew up to a man to fast not having much of a childhood tho he doesn't talk about it. Parents who abandoned him and in an out homes. It wasn't until he was 12 he was taken in by a family where the man of home was a golden glove boxer. A man who was so skilled in boxing that he wasn't allowed to fight but to coach. The man's name was "JB" guess you could say he was a man who didn't give much of a f*** about others but he took an interest in Desmonds abilities to fight. But unfortunately for JB over the years not much changed about Desmond until he was 17 living in the inner city with JB but JB was tragically shot during a a store robbery gone wrong and Desmond had come to the store where JB was sh*t he had some last words with him. "Stay strong don't give in to the evils of the world." So it was then his career into the military at the age of 18 and right out of high school. Dispute his past Desmond is surprisingly intelligent for his up bringing. Charming handsome it was a scary combination for a man who had a flexible morals. During his training due to his boxing training he picked up his training fast. It wasn't long that he aimed for special forces of the Navy Seals. Once he was on missions it was king where he was discharged as his contract was up with him now being recruited by the CIA tmfir taking care of black list tagerts and for 10 years he served his country then found something out about the CIA director but after that no one knows what he knows about the director or as to why he killed him then made a massive criminal empire from a man named Raymond Reddington being his teacher for the underground.

𝐹𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝐵𝑜𝓎

11/09/2022 12:29 AM 

Bailey (continued)

Bailey is just your typical whelp, living the life as an omega bottom feeder, serving his masters with constant manual labor. At this point He's lost count of how many asses he's kissed and how many papers he's fetched. Despite being a literal slave, Bailey has a huge heart and a soft spot for any form of affection, especially unconditional love. Will Bailey live the rest of his days on his knees or will he woo a loving maiden? 

Empyrean Psalms

11/08/2022 08:35 PM 

Side Characters

   Empyrean Psalms's Blurbs About me:NAME: Lily BlancetNICKNAME: The Little OneAGE: 17RACE: Familair/Physchic/MagusMagic Circuit Quality: UnknownMagic Circuit Quantity: UnknownGeneration: UnknownElement: Water, Wind, “Dream”Origin: UnknownCURRENT RESIDENCE: Atwater Estate ETHNICITY: British/FrenchHAIR COLOR: WhiteEYE COLOR: BlueHEIGHT: 4' 3"WEIGHT: Impolite to askBIRTHMARKS/SCARS: whiteTraits: sweats, joyvial, adventurous, energetic, mischovous, serious, loyalDisorders: Lily views things different from normal people. She understands right from wrong, however, if she wants to see inside a closed store, what is the problem with that? However, if someome broke into her house to just look she'd be enraged.Addictions: Sweats!Likes: sweats, fruit, exploring the area, supernatural rumors, random people's emotions and thoughtsDislikes: Input InfoPersonality: In a sense, Lily is innocence incarnat. Pure instict, desire; in some way is pure innoence. She acts on the light of love. Should current dream be ripped from love she'd rip said cause at seams. Powers: In the sodden warmth of the British was a French lady. With proud heart, and a monster among monsters; through a prociphy she bound and doom, to a doomed and glorious life. And she she bore the name Lily until a famous famous night. With mind in her hand. her name would etch into the beloved Ailin. The Blanchet are born with unique phychic powers that under the domain of telekinenis, empathy, or telpathy. Typically each possesses a different variation of one. However, she was a one of a kind beast who possessed all three. When deveoping a bond with Aislin, she vowed with true oath a life. This girl, so furious and wild, would remain in myth and memory of Aislin. 

Slasher Sam

11/07/2022 01:14 PM 

Samuel Westwood Backstory

Samuel Westwood was a young boy who possessed the supernatural power to sketch scenes which would later come to pass, for instance, he drew himself and his family together with a little brother and several months later his mom became pregnant with their second son. Sam originally had an enjoyable life; but when his father became the town pariah because his superiors at the local recycling plant forced him to lay off many workers, things started to turn sour. Mr. Westwood drank heavily and killed Samuel's pet rat, Hershey, in an inebriated fit of anger. This enraged Sam and led to him drawing a picture of a car crashing into a tree. It just so happened that his mother was driving over to a local bar to pick up her husband while he was drawing this and ended up crashing into a tree just like in Samuels's sketch. In addition to suffering numerous injuries, she had a miscarriage which caused her to slip into an abusive psychosis matching that of her husband.As his parents abused him, Samuel's powers developed further to where he could hear the thoughts of those around him and he discovered that many of his neighbors knew he was being battered by his parents, but did nothing to help him. Sam's parents sought to "cure" him of his abilities and brought him to a psychosis doctor. While being 'treated' he dreams of death in a female form who offered to give him the love he so desperately desired if he killed. Once the treatment was over, Sam pretended to be cured and went home with his parents, only to murder them.Whether the dream he had was real or not... he found a purpose in his life, and hopes to finally find someone that will love him.

— Black Sabbath -(Taken/Busy IRL)

11/06/2022 10:14 PM 

Because I am Indigenous

Because I Am Indigenous.There’s always a brume of skepticism (of fear) that will loom like a fly,Slightly past 9:30pm on a Friday and the twilight is taking the skyI find myself reciting; “It’s too dangerous. It’s too dangerous.”I feel this way because it’s another day with another alert on the news broadcast; another “missing person’s” poster hanging on the bleak walls,The articles are increasing while the fight to battle against it is decreasing,We attend more social gatherings where we mourn more than we celebrate;We mourn, can’t you hear us?  Our missing indigenous women;Of injured sisters, mothers, Aunty’s and cousins.Of our murdered women.There’s so much injustice and shame in our system,Our voices get silence and we get dismissed with one wave of your ******* palm and no second glance.Shame.Because I am Indigenous,My cultural beliefs are frowned upon; my healing ceremonies that takes away the discrimination toxicity, my herbs that help heal my throat that’s yelling at you to listen,My prayers in my two native tongues for those effected by your colonialism.My cultural heritage that is label as witchcraft and locked away in shelves cloaked by their leatherback book that they hold so close to their sinful chestsAnd dangling cross.Colonialism.Discrimination.Because I am Indigenous man,I am afraid to walk alone.Because I am Indigenous,I am afraid to be a victim of a hate-crime.Because I am Indigenous.I am also resilient.

— Black Sabbath -(Taken/Busy IRL)

11/06/2022 10:05 PM 

Your Olfactory Bulb Has a Direct Route to Your Limbic System

The fog here is thick, until you step into it.  The storm rages until you get to its eye.  I wish this same principle could be said of me, too.  But like a gas giant, you could slip right through me with                         the smallest amount of pressure.There is no calming sense of self at the core.Gravity does not apply to me.There’s a boat on the lake cutting through the fog.  And then nothing.                                                        ­                                    More waves.                                                          ­            More birds.                The fog covers it all up again.  The sun slinks and the tide comes in, or is it out?  Does it matter?  The moon controls it in some way—the push, the pull of the waves.At least the lake looks blue today,                           looks green today.The geese are in the water now.  The families are packing up.                               The ice cream shop is closing.And I do not remember if I was ever here with you.                                  This, of course, is a collective you.  Could mean you, my reader,                                               could mean one specific person,                                               or two                                                             ­       or three                                                                ­                          or four;could be whoever I'm thinking of when I reread this to myself.  That’s the funny thing about the litany of loss.                                             It all starts to congeal.  Waves crash against the rock.  Starts to chip away, create something new.                                                      That’s what memory does.It’s not permanent.  It’s malleable.  Flexible.        Bendable.        Moldable.  It smells like lakewater.  Like                                                  fish and sand and mud and                            gulls and rocks and shells and     algae and fog—thick, thick fog.  Smell is supposed to be one of the biggest memory triggers, and yet                                       I cannot place a single memory of you here.                                                    And that’s mildly crushing.  So I would take you here:                                              to where I wish the air was                                                       saliter and less earthy.                                                to where I come sometimes to think.                                                where the clouds are so thick and puffy and                                                            the setting sun makes them look like                                                                cotton candy on the Fourth of July.                                              where the sun’s reflection on the water                                                                ­      turns the green lake pink.                                                where the geese are back out of the water and                                                                                                     onto the shore.I would take you here with me.  Into a new memory.                                        Homemade.        Handmade.        DIY.write your grief prompt #14: imagine writing a letter to the one you have lost, what would you show them?

— Black Sabbath -(Taken/Busy IRL)

11/06/2022 09:54 PM 

Light Perception

Summary: Fisk gets put away again, and it feels like that should be the end of it, but it’s not. Of course it’s not. The FBI needs a win. Who better to take that out on than the lawyers who exposed their corruption. I am not Daredevil, Matt says so many times in so many spaces that he almost believes it. His ability to maintain a concept of self was difficult enough before this: this new judgment day, this thing that has fractured him beyond what he thought was possible. He feels like he’s been dropped into the ocean, all his limbs weighted with stones, unable to find which way is up and which way is down, which way is surface and which way is gone. Later, he'll try to think about it objectively, distance himself from this new kind of violence that inhabits his body. He'll grapple with the defined edges of his constantly shifting memory, carefully delineate the before from the after, turn his conclusion over and over in his mind. As it turns out, he observes, living feels a lot like drowning. [An exploration of trauma and memory, of what it might look like if Matt's identity as Daredevil was exposed. Prison fic. Post-S3.] Notes: “There are things unbearable.”—Anne Carson, Decreation      I.   The moment Wilson Fisk steps up to the podium, flanked by his team, somehow more imposing than ever, heartbeats stutter and crescendo across the city: a frenetic, dissonant exposition—and Matt thinks he understands a little bit more now why crowds nearly rioted at the premiere of a ballet once, overwhelmed by its relentless unpredictability, by its apostasy. The pagans onstage made pagans of the audience. The memory of Fisk’s voice doesn’t even hold a candle to the reality of it. Makes his hands curl into fists, takes him right back. If his memory had been a candle, then the reality is a forest fire: violent, irredeemable. “…to frame me. Daredevil. The killer who’s now showing—his true colors. Who’s tried to murder people in newspaper offices—and churches. Attacking our sacred institutions. Believe—me. Daredevil is our true—public—enemy.” It feels like Matt is caught in the crossfire of feedback from every television set in the borough, the fractional delay of sound just offset enough to make it seem as though Fisk’s voice carries beyond the restraints of sound and time, as though his power is truly limitless. The gasps that follow the speech, the uptick in heart rates, the sharp smell of sweat glands and fear arousal overwhelm his senses as he parses through the confused and conflicted responses across the streets: truth, truth, truth, it can’t be true, can it be true— A stuttering swan song of disbelief; it doesn’t matter, he thinks, it really doesn’t matter what he does, how much he does, who he tries to be—a few seeds of doubt, a handful of words, and the people he calls his own turn on him, just like that. A half-measure; a man who can’t finish the job. One bad day away from becoming the villain of his own story. One bad day away from becoming— Nausea battles with helpless rage inside of him as he is stricken with the realization that maybe Castle was right: the system is broken, his work as Matt Murdock is a practice in futility, almost as pointless as his work as Daredevil—not enough, never enough. He imagines for a moment what it would look like to team up with Castle, to end this—once and for all, for better or worse, ‘til death do us part; an unholy marriage of the Devil and the Punisher. How disappointing that his old teacher couldn't be here to witness the ruthlessness he’d despaired of ever finding in Matt. Maybe there's hope for you yet— Matt clenches his jaw against the wave of grief that follows, and pushes himself up to his feet. Foggy and Karen are waiting. — It takes him less time than he hopes it’ll take to arrive, barely exhilarated from the sensation of vaulting from rooftop to rooftop, the wide chasm of empty spaces below him, the promise of adrenaline that comes with every moment that he taunts death, and fear, and his own limitations. “So, I guess you needed my help, after all,” Foggy says smugly, with, to his credit, just a trace of the bitterness that usually accompanies his words. Since that day. Judgment day. When the secrets came bleeding out from Matt’s wounds. So, Matt swallows his pride as Karen steps onto the rooftop after Foggy. “Yeah,” Matt says. “Yeah, I did, Foggy. You’re right.” He doesn’t add that Karen nearly died because she got involved, because Foggy gave her the idea to confront Fisk, because he did exactly what Matt asked him not to do. He doesn’t say anything because he finally understands—there is no protecting each other, and good intentions only pave the way to hurt and hell, anyway. Fisk's speech lingers in his mind, a thick gossamer caught at the barbed edges of his thoughts, as present as the hallucination of Fisk that’s been haunting Matt's footsteps since waking up back at St. Agnes weeks ago.  The worst part, thinks Matt, was not even the speech, itself, no; not Fisk's voice, nor even his accusations; it was the heckling of the protestors fading into rapt silence, the collective gasps which greeted the accusations against Daredevil, the rapid click of camera shutters stuttering one by one into stillness: the cold realization that, after everything, after everything Fisk had done—the city believed him. Fisk, it was Fisk, it was all Fisk— Helpless rage rises up in Matt's chest and his hands flex at his side, curl into trembling, white-knuckled fists. Ten steps behind, always ten steps behind and nothing he did ever— “Do you have any idea how much life has sucked for Karen and me,” Foggy interrupts his thoughts, “while you were, just, off doing your own thing?” All Matt’s ever tried to do is the right thing, and all Matt’s ever seemed to do is get it wrong.  “No, but—I’m sorry, Foggy,” Matt says, grimacing at the profound inadequacy of words to bridge this rift in their friendship, to fill this cavernous space of all the things he's never been able to say. "Maybe I was, was wrong to push you away." “Ok, it’s, insanely hard to fight with you if you keep agreeing with me,” says Foggy, and Matt's own heart skips a beat. He doesn't need enhanced senses to catch that Foggy's heart is almost in the quip, almost— “Good,” returns Matt, “because I don’t want to fight with you.” He releases the breath that's been caught in his chest, and the rest of his apology comes out in a rush of words. “Look, the way I’ve treated you—the way I’ve treated you both—you deserve better.” Foggy's breath hitches in surprise.  "Yes," he says, cautiously, and Matt can sense that Foggy has turned to look at Karen, sense that she is nodding in bewildered agreement. “We did. But... so did you." For a moment, the words don’t register, the corner of Matt's mouth tilting up as though Foggy just made a joke that he didn't quite understand.  “I, Fog, what’re you,” Matt says, the words faltering as they tumble out clumsily on top of each other. “Listen, Matt,” says Foggy, and his voice is doing that thing where it sounds somehow both resigned and determined. “I pushed you away, too, after everything that went down with—you know,” he stumbles, not wanting to say Elektra’s name. “But it wasn’t fair,” he says quickly, to stave off Matt’s inevitable apology. “It wasn’t fair to leave you alone like that after she showed up again. I just—Jesus, I still remember that night at Co—” “Foggy,” interrupts Matt. Karen’s heartbeat is quickening in confusion, in concern, in interest. “We don’t, we don’t have to do this. Just, if you can let me try to do better, give me another chance—that’s all I need.” "No, Matt," says Foggy. "I'm just—I'm trying to say that I know your relationship with Elektra is complicated, has always been complicated, and God knows you probably never learned anything about healthy relationships since your childhood was so supremely f***ed up—" Matt releases a sharp breath of air in an unexpected huff of laughter. “Look,” Foggy continues doggedly. “What I’m trying to say is that—I’m sorry, too. You were alone, and I know that you thought I’d—we’d—be safer that way, thanks to your own personal, a**hole Mr. Miyagi but—whoa, Matt, are you ok? What’d I say?” He must look like he'd gotten punched in the gut at the mention of his old teacher. Matt certainly feels winded, and breathless, and incapable of explaining why. He licks his lips, as though forcing his tongue into motion will pave the way for the words to follow. “Stick's, uh, he's... gone, Fog. She, Elektra—she killed him,” Matt says finally, quietly, as though saying it softly enough might keep it from being true; as though saying it out loud doesn't make him feel like he might fracture into innumerable, irreparable pieces. He's barely a person already, he thinks; there's no way he can survive another blow, another hit like that. “Jesus, Matt,” says Foggy, and the sharp taste of salt hits Matt's tongue. He drags his focus back into the present; wisps of Karen's long hair are getting caught in the night wind, trailing across her tear-dampened cheeks while Foggy is... stoic, which is unlike him, his heartbeat ticking up anxiously in the silence that follows. The regret Matt feels is instantaneous; he should have known better than to task his friends with the unfair burden of grieving these complicated losses, these impossible figures who'd stolen Matt away from them before they'd ever had a chance. “It’s, uh, it is what it is,” Matt says, his voice flat. “I thought I could help her. I thought I could—I don’t know, but,” he shakes his head and laughs, a sound that is entirely joyless. “I couldn’t.” “Oh, Matt,” Karen says, sadly. Foggy takes a halting step toward Matt, stops himself in awkwardly aborted movement. A long moment of silence follows, before she ventures: "So, where do we go from here?" “I don’t want to leave you,” Matt says slowly, reluctantly, “but I can’t—I can't ask you to be accomplices to what I have to do now.” The words linger in the air between them like a challenge. Karen shifts her head away from Matt, displeasure in every closed gesture of her body. Foggy looks between them, settles on Karen: “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Um,” Karen hesitates briefly then plows quickly forward, as though that might soften the blow of the words. “Matt wants to kill Fisk.” There is one vibrating moment of silence before Foggy's words come staccato, rapid-fire, punctuated with disbelief: “What the f***, Matt—you know, maybe that building falling on you really did mess with your head—" “We put him in prison, Foggy—and look what happened,” Matt says, and Foggy hates that his best friend is somehow able to sound calm, and rational, and deeply unaffected while discussing his intention to cross this line that he'd sworn he could never cross, this line that could never be uncrossed. Foggy can still picture the crumpled expression on Matt's face when he'd asked if Matt had ever gone that far before—and Foggy doesn't understand how they got from there to here. Foggy thinks he could fill books with what he doesn't understand about his best friend. “It won't be the same this time,” Foggy returns. “This time, he’ll be thrown into some kind of supermax hole where he can’t compromise anybody. He’ll never see the light of day again!” “Foggy, I know you’re not that naïve—” “It’s called having faith in the system, something you used to have—” “It’s called facing reality,” Matt snaps, but Foggy can hear the exhaustion in his voice, the disbelieving resignation, the stretch and break of him. "The reality that the system wasn't built to contain men like Fisk. Men who are too rich, and too powerful—men who take the law, who take the system and twist it into something that protects them—" “No, Matt,” Foggy snaps back. “This isn’t you. There’s another way to do this—we just, if you can just, I don’t know, take a step back from the murder ledge for one freaking second!” “Matt, just, hear him out, maybe,” Karen interjects. Her voice is soft, pleading, raw.  “Fine.” Matt laughs, and the sound is short, and bitter. “Tell me how the law can possibly fix this, Foggy. I’m all ears. Please. Tell me your plan.” "Ok, simple, step one," says Foggy slowly, deliberately. "We do this together—we devise a plan together. Step two: we, we execute said plan. Together." “Wow,” Matt says, and laughs joylessly again. Not enough. Never enough. “That’s genius. You come up with that on your own?” ”Yeah, well, so I’m still working out the details,“ Foggy replies, but the uptick in his heartbeat belies his too-casual tone. “Ok, ok, ok, what about this—we, we find ourselves another witness,” Karen suggests. “Someone that will flip on Fisk, but, unlike Jasper Evans, we keep them alive this time. Someone who knows the details of Fisk’s operation. Someone with nothing to lose.” "No," says Matt, as the memory of what happened at the church returns to him in a rush of grief that nearly takes his breath again. "Someone with everything to lose." “Nadeem,” breathes Karen. “He helped me get away.” “Yeah,” says Matt. “His family’s in danger, he probably went back to move them. I need to go. Now. Foggy—do you think Brett would be willing to help Nadeem’s family?” “Already on it,” Foggy mumbles, and Matt can hear his fingertips rapidly tapping the screen of his phone. Pulling the mask back over his head, Matt rolls his shoulders back and starts jogging across the rooftop, gaining momentum as he goes until he’s leaping over and across.   —   In some ways, it feels like Matt never stopped running. Fisk gets put away again, and it feels like that should be the end of it, but it’s not. Of course it’s not. The FBI needs a win. Who better to take that out on than the lawyers who exposed their corruption. Daredevil. Our true—public—enemy. They’ve gathered enough evidence against Matt that there’s not much Foggy can do other than insist on protective custody, on the grounds that a blind attorney can't be placed in general population with the same violent offenders he put there. I am not Daredevil, Matt says so many times in so many spaces that he almost believes it. The days following his indictment are a blur of promises and threats bridged together by sleepless nights outlined with crushing absence where language used to be.   II.   It takes only one night in prison for Matt Murdock to realize that his luck has finally caught up with him; it takes thirty-two nights to fully understand what that means. Thirty-two nights of imprisoned men yelling and banging and taunting and singing; thirty-two days of the stench and noise of convicted inmates mixed in with others, like Matt, who are just awaiting trial; thirty-two nights of listening to choked sobs and threats, favors and retributions. Thirty-two days and nights with little sleep, and less food.  Then it happens—the transfer from protective custody to general population. Matt is almost relieved when it happens: it means freedom from the oppressive hum of surveillance cameras in protective custody always watching, always, so that he must act the part of helpless blind attorney every moment of every day and every night, or risk losing his case before it can ever get to trial, risk getting Foggy sentenced alongside Matt for aiding and abetting. The prison guards have demonstrated petty cruelties in the past, but still—Matt doesn’t see it coming when they take him not to his new cell in general population but into an ambush. A closed room with no way out, the door locked behind him and too many heartbeats to immediately count. It’s not that Matt ever considered himself an especially lucky person to begin with, not that he'd ever relied on luck when he could rely on himself, instead; but he's always been able to recognize when good things come into his life that have absolutely nothing to do with him—that have everything to do with chance, or else divine providence, or fate. And if all the good luck allotted to him in life had been spent up on a singular event, Matt's ok with that—because getting assigned to Foggy Nelson as a roommate at Columbia felt like a second chance at everything good that had ever slipped through his grasp—a chance at happiness that didn’t need to be gripped tightly in his fists or hidden beneath a mask. Foggy, who saw Matt—really saw him; not just his disability or the cultivated personality he presented to the world, but who Matt was, who he tried to be. Foggy, who saw with his heart, like Matt— He starts numbering the heartbeats, placing the bodies in the space, tasting the cortisol and adrenaline mingling with sweat in the air, his thoughts involuntarily drifting back to the last time he’d faced this many men, the cavernous space of the sky above as he and Elektra fought back to back on the rooftop where she would die in his arms. Different, he thinks, from the second time she would die: ripped from his arms below the earth as the sky collapsed down upon them. Elektra. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Matt that he would all but free-fall into the kind of life Elektra could promise him, the life he'd been coldly, dispassionately shut out from in the quiet basement of an orphanage: his child's body colored with bruises he'd thought could mean love, his child's heart filled all the way up with shame—he’d been holding onto it for months, had pressed it carefully, tenderly, into the pages of his bible: a paper bracelet made from the wrapper of an ice cream cone— So if Elektra wasn’t quite compatible with Matt’s desperate need to be good, to be so good, well, at least she knew every buried part of him: knew intimately his darkness, his grief, his unbearable rage. Is she sick? Worse, Matty, she’s in love— “You’re Battlin’ Jack’s boy,” says a voice from above the men, atop a set of steps leading up to a door, and there’s something about the voice that strikes a chord in Matt’s mind, that stops him in his tracks, that catches his breath in his throat. Matt had observed the exit behind the man from the moment he’d stepped foot inside, one of three exits from the space. All closed, all locked, all useless. Guards posted outside every one, their pockets lined with blood money, their bodies full of threats. Plata o plomo. Silver or lead. Take our money, or take our violence. Matt always chooses violence. “What’s it to you?” he bites, fighting down the feeling that this is all more than it seems, more urgent, more dangerous than he can comprehend right now, with the evidence he has before him. "You don't remember me?" the man asks, mildly. "I killed your father." You don’t remember me? You killed my father. Well, I hate to break it to you, son, but I killed a lot of guys’ dads. Then let me help you…he hit hard, like this— Matt's body turns to ice, turns to stone, turns to lead as everything comes together to form a memory: Elektra, knife in hand, taunting Roscoe Sweeney, encouraging Matt to tell him who he was—he could taste salt in the air as he beat the other man until his face didn’t even feel like a face anymore, so bruised and bloodied beneath Matt’s knuckles. Good, he'd thought. His father's face hadn't felt like a face anymore either when Matt had found him in the alleyway all those years ago—but Elektra had disappeared after Matt refused to kill him, leaving only the lingering scent of her perfume—sandalwood, ylang ylang, mandarin leaf—as proof that she'd been there at all. Shards of crystal like fractured stars in Matt's hearing on the kitchen floor. Matt, equally shattered, equally disposable, alone by the open door.  He'd stood there numbly until long after she left, until the lonely wail of sirens reached the limits of his hearing. Then he'd hitchhiked and stumbled his way back to the dorm at Columbia, every intention of waiting for Foggy to leave the building before returning to their room—until realizing his keys were gone, lost somehow during the messy events of the evening. Or, just as likely, Elektra had taken them before disappearing; petty retribution for not complying with her command to end it, for not meeting her own desperate need for Matt to be the mirror to her fragmented pieces—to reflect back something whole, something still worthy of love. So Matt had knocked, humiliated, dried blood on his knuckles, on his clothes, mingled with the tears that had tracked their way down his face, and tried to ignore Foggy’s sharp intake of breath when he saw Matt, tried to ignore the frightened uptick in his pulse as the law student succumbed to his tendency to babble in distressing situations. “Oh my god, Matt,” he had said, “you disappeared from the party last night, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I’m always afraid you’ve fallen into, like, an open manhole or, I don’t know—a sinkhole, because I guess that’s more likely to happen than quicksand, not that I really thought quicksand was an option when there’s wet concrete and—” Matt had opened his mouth to say Foggy’s name, to reassure him, to somehow make this seem less bad than it was; instead, he'd heard himself gasp Elektra's name, barely a whisper of a sound, felt hot tears slipping out from the corners of his eyes again. The scent of Foggy’s fear had blossomed into anger, then; he had never liked Elektra, had never trusted her, had warned Matt about her so many times—and Matt had felt bitter shame rise up in his throat. But Foggy had knelt gently, quietly beside him as Matt wept wordlessly, his hands aching to feel just once what it would be like to touch someone and—not hurt, not be hurt. And if Matt had internally railed at the unfairness of it all—he’d thought surely by now he would be ok, surely by now he would have picked up the pieces of his life and fashioned them into something whole, no longer caught in the riptide of shattered childhood dreams and loss—he didn't let it pass through his lips. Not the way he had once allowed it to pass through his lips as a child in the orphanage waking again and again from impressionistic nightmares to unfamiliar rooms, calling out for his dead father, for anyone at all. He'd learned, then, when no one came, that it was better not to ask at all, better not to burden others with his neediness, his sadness, his shame. “Matthew?! Oh, you’re Battlin’ Jack’s boy, oh you amateur. Now I know your name, nothing to stop me from bloodying the street with your corpse, just like I did to your old man—” Scuffle of countless feet across concrete pulls Matt's attention back to the men who circle slowly, densely around him. "Sweeney," he all but spits, almost pleased for the opportunity to face him again. He can feel that helpless rage rising back up inside of his body again and his hands tighten into fists, aching for a fight after a month of playing domesticated house cat for the cameras in protective custody, for the prison guards whose daily cruelties and provocations were their bread and butter. “Murdock,” the mobster responds, almost sweetly. “You put me away ten years ago, and I’ve just been dreaming about getting you back ever since. Then I read about your trial in the paper and realized that I could get you back without ever leaving these walls. Only this, this is so much better than even I imagined.” “What do—what are you talking about,” Matt bites out through gritted teeth, mentally cataloguing everything in the room that could be used as a weapon against him, counting every heartbeat, every obstacle between him and a way out of this alive. A few inmates have switchblades tucked into their waistbands, others have clumsier weapons, and the rest carrying only their loathing for Daredevil, armed only with their bitter memories of humiliation and defeat, with the knowledge that they're locked away in here because of him. “You see, I knew about you, sure, followed along as the media praised the poor blind orphan with a law degree just trying to do good for his community. Except it turns out that you’ve been doing it with your fists instead of your law degree—I wonder how your partner feels about that—how your old man would’ve felt about that—” “Enough—” The word snarls out of him unbidden, his rage uncoiling inside of him until every fiber of him aches to hurt, to be hurt. “Don’t talk about them, don't you dare talk about them—” "Did you know that your partner has personally fought every appeal that I've made in the last ten years?" asks Sweeney, his heartbeat rushing in satisfaction when Matt doesn't respond. "You didn't know, did you? Guess we're all entitled to our... little secrets—" Sweeney's body is suddenly wracked with convulsive coughs; calluses line the inflamed membranes of his nasal passages, and Matt is hit with the realization that Sweeney had never recovered from the beating he'd given him that night, ten years ago. The thought that Sweeney must remember Battlin’ Jack Murdock every single time he takes a breath brings Matt a rush of grim satisfaction. “You’re a survivor, Murdock, unlike your old man," Sweeney says, his voice rasping. "Unfortunately for you, so am I—and I’ve not forgotten what you did. You left me with too many reminders.” "Then you should know now that you don’t want to make an enemy of me,” he bites, the Devil creeping into his voice. Sweeney laughs, drawing a few huffs of laughter from the men around Matt and he is caught in the crossfire of feedback again, kneeling on a rooftop with Fisk's voice in his ears; he shakes his head desperately in an attempt to bring his senses back into focus. Feeling of solid concrete beneath his feet, uptick in the ring of heartbeats around him, low hum of the ventilation system somewhere distantly above. “No,” Sweeney returns. “The mistake was making me an enemy, was making yourself an entire goddamn army of enemies and thinking you’d somehow never end up in here with them. Did you really think we’d never come back for you, pretty boy? For Daredevil?” Daredevil—our true—public—enemy— Sweeney scoffs. "You've only been here thirty-two f***ing days, Murdock, and, from what I hear, you're already losing it: talkin' to yourself in your cell, not eating, not sleeping—well, we've been here for years, so you can imagine that we are more tired, more hungry—for release, for retribution that's owed to us." Matt’s only half-listening to Sweeney’s monologue, his senses trained on the men surrounding him. Mind, body, connection. He forcibly releases the tension in his shoulders, allows himself to relax into the stance of a boxer as he grounds up through his feet. He tilts his head, focusing on the men who are distracted by Sweeney's speech. Adrenaline is coursing through him now, his body practically vibrating with it. “You think I’m afraid of you or these men, Sweeney? You think I’m not hungry for a release after thirty two days and nights of listening to all the sh*t that goes on in this place?” Matt's mouth curves up in a feral smile. “Try me.” Matt strikes the prisoner closest to him, the sole of his foot connecting with his throat; he goes down, and Matt uses the momentum from the kick to erupt into a flurry of motion as the other prisoners scramble to take their shot at the man who put them here. Slipping back on his feet, he narrowly avoids a shiv; taking advantage of the convict's imbalanced footing, Matt throws him face-first into the ascending concrete steps. There's a sharp crack as the man's jaw dislocates on impact. Matt steps over him to get to Sweeney but more men are already grasping at his arms, dragging him back by his prison uniform, by his hair, by anything they can get a hold of. He violently shakes off a couple of his attackers before something heavy is swinging through the air and he's forced to drop back down over the railing. He drops into a roll as he lands, swiping out a leg close to the ground to bring down the attacker closest to him, uses the momentum to spin back up to his feet. He strikes his heel down across the man's temple before Matt is grabbed again from behind, arms restrained this time. He kicks out furiously at one of the men in front of him, lands a hit on one of the men holding him and pulls away— —but there are too many men and they've closed too tightly in on him. He is being restrained again and this time the attacker hurls Matt against the wall, then down against the steps. He hits hard, his senses blurring in and out of focus as he swings out desperately. One man, two men, three go down, but more pile on top of Matt, their hands grabbing at his prison uniform, his arms held high behind him as he tries and fails to fend off the seemingly endless stream of attackers: a chaotic blur of overstimulation for his already exhausted and dazed senses. Then the shiv is cutting through Matt’s prison uniform, leaving a jagged, burning wound across his chest, and he cannot help the agonized gasp that is torn from his throat as the serrated edge of the makeshift blade catches every bit of sinew beneath his skin, as men grasp at the torn fabric, cool air against his skin followed by violent touch—  Mind, body, connection. The mind controls the body— Matt forces himself to exhale, tracks separate heartbeats out of the cacophony, and thrusts his head back savagely into the face of one of the men restraining him. His leg kicks out, and another man goes down as he wildly wrestles his way back up to his feet. His breath is coming out in gasps now; he swipes at the blood around his mouth with one hand, then lowers it to gauge the depth of the wound on his torso, the other arm still dangling at his side, numb all the way up to where his shoulder is braced against the wall. He’ll survive the knife wound, he thinks, his body now trembling with exertion and the effort of fighting off the shock that threatens his hard-won control over his senses. His head tilts as he gauges the heartbeats of the men still on their feet; he can sense the hesitation in their movements, their disbelief that he is somehow still on his own feet, and he knows he won't get another chance. Despite the exhaustion settling into his limbs like a weight, the long days and sleepless nights and weeks of slow starvation, he forces himself into motion, striking at any vulnerable place that might knock down these men enough for him to catch his breath, to figure something else out, to— The world shifts beneath him as he is thrown against the side of the staircase. Matt grabs a fistful of hair as he goes down, drags the attacker down with him and staggers to his knees at the man's side before he can get back up; he hits him until he can feel bones fracturing beneath his fists. “Careful, Murdock,” Sweeney warns, and his voice draws Matt’s focus back to the feeling that he’s still missing something, something bigger, something more urgent, something more pressing; only he can’t pinpoint what’s wrong over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, the sound of his own gasps, his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, the cacophonous ring of heartbeats still around him, above him, his senses dazed, overstimulated, overwhelmed. What was he missing? What was he missing? Tap, tap—tap, tap, tap— He thinks back to his old teacher and narrows his focus, tuning out the heavy breathing of the other prisoners, the gasping, strangled sounds from men still on the ground—tap, tap, tap—there it is. A tapping sound. Sounds so familiar. Only Matt can’t place it. Another rooftop, he thinks, another lifetime. Karen and Foggy were there, he was typing out a text— Phone. Camera. Low of hum of video in the corner of the ceiling, barely audible, barely distinct from the low hum of the ventilation system just beside it. He stills immediately with the realization, and then something heavy is swinging toward his head again. The blow itself incapacitates him, his hands raising to his ears in a desperate attempt to stave off the high pitched ringing that follows. The pain that follows blurs his senses entirely out of focus for a moment that feels eternal. He gasps as the world swims around him, sounds coming in and out of muffled focus as he is dragged up onto his knees, his arms held behind him in a final defeat, a blade pressed against his throat. “You showed your hand, Murdock, just like your old man,” Sweeney says as he finally descends from where he'd been waiting at the top of the concrete stairs, phone held loosely in his hand. He laughs. “Except I let Jack off too easy for what he did, I think. Should’ve waited ‘til he was home, made you watch—sorry, listen, as the bullet went through his skull, let you think you could save him, let you try to staunch the blood—” “F*** you—” Matt half-slurs, half-gasps, fighting down the too-visceral memories of himself as a child with hands so small, too small—I think that’s my dad, I think that’s my dad—to be feeling for the familiar landscape of his father’s face and finding a bullet hole instead. Matt swallows around the sob in his throat, chokes out: “You think getting sent to prison was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you, Sweeney? After everything you’ve done—I should’ve, I should’ve—” “What, killed him?” says a low, familiar voice, and Matt feels like all the breath has been stolen from him in an instant, feels a horrible cold settle inside of him in its place. “Like you tried to kill me?” “No,” he gasps, his stomach churning. No no no no no no no— This isn’t real, he thinks, it can’t be; he’s hallucinating again, lost to himself. Poor timing, but that’s par for the course. It’s not enough for Matt to fight enemies made of flesh and blood, no; he must create phantoms to haunt his steps, resurrect ghosts long dead. Self-flagellation for the modern penitent. Better lost to himself than this: ten steps behind with a mouthful of blood and defeat. The world around him is still swimming in and out of muffled focus, his tightly wound control over his senses unraveling under the strain of it all: metallic taste of blood, acrid sweat mingling with expensive cologne, adrenaline and arousal, too many heartbeats, too many sounds, too much, it was all too much and he's so tired, he doesn't think he's ever felt so tired before— “What’re you—what does, no—” he tries to say, but his voice falters, catches in his throat as he fights to get the words out past his lips. Played like a fool. Always the fool. His teacher had been right about Matt; but his teacher is gone now, for all the good being right ever did him. Did Fisk do this to you? Fisk, it was Fisk, it was all Fisk— Matt struggles to slow the breaths that hover high up in his chest, fluttering violently like a wild bird trapped in a cage. He can't catch his breath. He can't catch his breath, and he can't tell what's real and what's— Pull it together, he thinks viciously, but Fisk’s presence obliterates his focus, gets deep inside of him where he can't stop it, where he can't shut him out. He leans in close, so close that Matt can feel his too-warm breath in his ear, all but deafening in its proximity, in its intensity, in its intent—and, for some reason that Matt can’t immediately name, can’t immediately place, the feeling is so much more sickening than the blood rapidly seeping out onto his abdomen, than the blade still pressed into his throat. “You’re still so naïve, Matthew,” says Fisk, quietly, for his ears alone, and Matt cannot help the shudder that wracks his already trembling frame. “There are things worse than death for men like you and men like me. Things unbearable that linger, and fester, and take on lives of their own.” Fisk steps back, runs his fingers back and forth across the palm of his hand, a rapid brush up from the bottom followed by a slow return.  "You will only wish you had died, died rather than know what it means to have who you are stripped from you, to understand that you allowed it to happen, to know that you could have stopped it—at the expense, of course, of knowing you've all but placed a death sentence on your partner, of knowing you'll never see him again. The same choice you gave to me, Mr. Murdock. Fair's fair." Matt’s been dealt sh*t hands before, always prided himself on his ability to take the hand he was dealt and shift the cards in his favor, on his ability to hit the mat and get back up again, fists swinging. Now laughter bubbles up inside of him. The ghost of his father had finally abandoned him, it seemed; only fitting that he should face his ruin alone. For it is we who haunt the dead, he remembers bitterly, and not the dead haunt us. He chokes back the hysterical urge to laugh, swallows down the bile that's risen again at the back of his throat as Fisk forcefully grips Matt’s jaw and tilts it up toward the surveillance camera hanging from the corner of the ceiling. Its low, dissonant drone cuts in and out of Matt's hearing like a scratched record, and he feels boneless, uncorporeal. If his body had turned to ice before, now it was dark, drowning water. “They’re watching, Matthew,” Fisk says. “Don’t let the Devil out." Don’t let the Devil out, he says, and Matt hears the promise in the spaces between the words, or your case will fail before it ever makes it to trial, and Foggy will get sentenced, and worse, for aiding and abetting Daredevil. Daredevil—our true—public—enemy— He feels like he’s been dropped into the ocean, all his limbs weighted with stones, unable to find which way is up and which way is down, which way is surface and which way is gone. Surface feels like a fairy-story told to children at night, like enchanted forests.  Light as the breadcrumbs which lead the way up, which lead the way out. This isn’t real, he thinks desperately, like the child who hides under his covers at night from the monsters who live in the closet, who sleep under the bed. If I can’t see it, it can’t be real.  He can practically hear Stick’s response, derisive, cold: C’mon, kid. You, more than anyone, know better than that. Get up. Get up and fight back, your soft partner be damned. Just look at you, a trained warrior—and this is what you’ve become: weak, soft, useless. I was right to leave you when I did— “Time’s up, Mr. Murdock,” Fisk says, dispassionately, and the ghost of his old teacher dissipates like smoke. Then, to Sweeney: “He’s yours. Let your men have him, but he stays alive—or you do not.” A litany of no’s are uttered in quick succession, one after another, as if from someone else, though Matt feels his own lips moving, feels the vibrations in his throat, feels his tongue heavy and dry against the roof of his mouth as the knife is removed from his throat, as different hands roughly grasp his jaw this time, hold him still as the other men press in— Then, nothing; only a few dull sounds in the back of his throat as he resigns himself to muteness, to what he cannot fight, to what he cannot change.  This is the moment Matt understands what it means for his luck to have finally caught up with him, the moment he understands that there is no such thing as paying his dues, that some cards can’t be shifted in his favor. He'd known the risks of Daredevil, had lived for the risks of Daredevil—thrived in the charged spaces between risk and consequence, walked the tightrope between good intention and self-destruction. So, the consequences had arrived. For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for— Judgment day.  The formation of a memory like the empty spaces between towering edifices, playing over and over—the smells, he thinks, the smells are what will stay with him the most—but no, because it repeats, and this time it’s the feeling of powerlessness, of observing distantly from somewhere outside of his body, the ringing in his ears rendering his assailants all but invisible to him, if not for their lingering, burning touches on his body, his skin— But no, because the memory repeats and, this time, there’s just nothing there, and he thinks, if he could just remember, just remember what happened, how it happened, he could gather the fragments back together into something that makes sense—except that it repeats, and he remembers, and it still doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t—the blur of faceless touches, the ringing in his ears softening to a quiet drone as nothing happens, nothing, really, because if he can’t remember, then it didn’t, it couldn’t have— —and then he’s on his hands and knees, trembling, vomiting until there’s nothing left but his own blood that he keeps swallowing and he’s dry heaving and shaking as they laugh, and he thinks, he thinks this might be dying because he doesn't understand how anybody could withstand this feeling without dying. His body doesn’t even feel like it belongs to him anymore, because it couldn’t possibly, he can’t think of a reason why— No, he thinks, absently, what happened—it happened to someone else.  He doesn’t try to focus. There is no mind, body, connection, not anymore, not when his mind has violently rejected any connection to his body. In this moment, there are no thoughts of Elektra, or Foggy, or even God; no illusions of a friend or hero coming to his rescue. In his experience, people showing up at the last minute to save the day is a trope strictly relegated to films and books and television shows. In real life, people rarely show up at the last minute to save the day. In Matt’s experience, no one ever shows up at all. Maybe later he’ll rewrite the story; give it a better ending, a better beginning, more realistic, more true—something that makes more sense. Mostly, he remembers that it started and he remembers that it ended; but it felt like it never would, and he feels like, somehow, it never will.   III.   The night passes slowly. He trades incoherent banter with phantoms and mumbles apologies to ghosts. His body trembles violently, and the touch of his own fingertips feels alien as he presses the blood back into his wounds. He can’t remember why. Memory can keep its secrets, he thinks, as a rat scurries across the floor of his new cell.   —   Morning brings a kind of clarity. Unwanted, but there nonetheless. His phantoms (mostly) fade away at the relentless hammering of a bell. Father Lantom lingers. Something to do with Catholic school, he thinks. “Is there a problem, inmate? Why aren’t you prepared for the count?” There’s a heartbeat at the entrance to his cell; he probably should have noticed it before, but there are so many heartbeats, and so many voices, and the effort to focus his senses would only draw energy away from the effort to get to his feet without collapsing. The thought of being touched by anyone else right now is too much for Matt to bear. “No,” Matt says as he shuffles carefully to stand in front of his bed. He holds his arms behind his back in compliance, gritting his teeth against the low moan that rises in his throat. “Sorry.” “Next time you’re late for the count,” the guard says irritably, his hand resting on the baton at his side, “you’ll find out what disciplinary action means, Murdock.”   —   Attending meals is non-negotiable, evidently. Inmates in general population are not permitted to stay in their cells during mealtimes. In addition to learning that neat fact, Matt also learns that asking questions is considered ‘non-compliance’ and, therefore, also cause for disciplinary action. Matt not-so-secretly thinks that the guard just wanted an excuse to use force, but that doesn’t change the fact that he ends up on his knees again, unable to defend himself without giving away his secret. I am not Daredevil, he thinks, swallowing down the burning desire to fight back. It settles in his stomach like hot coals, waiting to burst into flames inside of him. The cafeteria is only a five-minute walk from Matt’s new cell, but the assault of catcalls and jeering on his ears, the sudden touches and hisses, makes it feel endless. Worse, there were so many men—he doesn't know which ones were in the room with him, which ones that— Sweeney signals his approach with the pungent, cloying odor of cigar smoke and expensive alcohol; the combination causes nausea to rise up in the back of Matt's throat. “You look real down this morning, Murdock,” he murmurs, standing close, too close. “So, listen, I’m gonna make this easy for you. This, last night, will just be a taste of what the next few years are gonna look like for you in here. Or, you can choose option B: tell your partner that I want out, and that I want him to get me the deal. Fisk can rot in hell for all I care. I’ll even delete that footage of you—” Don’t let the Devil out— “You have no idea what’s coming for you, Sweeney,” Matt spits, and turns to walk away from the cafeteria line. But the world spins disorientingly around him in vertigo not felt since he was a child: the rough fabric of his father’s shirt pressing desperately against Matt's eyes as the blue sky eroded away like film that had caught fire. I can’t see, I can’t see— He grasps for something to hold onto, something to stabilize himself, but finds nothing, ears ringing, his senses overwhelmed. He stumbles backward into another inmate, and mocking laughter erupts from the line. Flashes of memory return to him: on his knees gasping for breath while they laugh— All the helplessness inside of him transforms into rage in an instant, so suddenly that it takes his breath away—but before he can do anything there are hands grasping roughly at his arms, and he's hauled away.    —   Solitary. Matt registers the small, enclosed space as the gate clicks loudly shut behind him, the footsteps of the two prison guards walking away, but he is on his hands and knees in the filth and grime of countless inmates before him and he can hardly find a shred of feeling left in him to care. His mind is a constant replaying of his latest disaster, his most recent self-destruction; a litany of no’s like a prayer, don’t let the Devil out— His jaw clicks tight against the sudden onslaught of memories and he forcefully jerks his body back against the wall of the cell, sucks in a sharp breath of air through his nose and presses one trembling hand against the throbbing wound at his side. He can feel blood seeping out and through his new prison uniform. He can't remember what happened to the other uniform, ripped, stained, ruined; he supposes they must have thrown it away when they took it off of him. No evidence, no crime. Time passes slowly. He reviews all of Foggy’s cases in his mind, but the exercise is pointless, and he knows it. He’s never heard Foggy even mention Sweeney’s name, let alone mention attending any appeals. Beneath the hurt, Matt feels distantly pleased, vindicated, even, that he’s not the only one who ever kept secrets in their friendship. Still, the secret is out, and now Sweeney knows that hurting Matt hurts Foggy, knows that bending Matt will get Foggy to do whatever it takes to keep Matt from breaking. Fisk may have used the lowlife crime boss to get his revenge, but Sweeney used him right back. It’s almost laughable. Almost. “In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Matt says, bitterly, “I’m the idiot who can f*** things up for the people I love even from behind bars.” His own voice sounds foreign to him and Matt hesitates to consider the ramifications of this feeling of decorporealization. A sudden echo of footsteps from the corridor catches his attention, then a heartbeat from the other side of the bars. A guard, judging by the sound of callused fingertips impatiently brushing against a baton. “Losing it already, Murdock?” he jeers. “Get up, your attorney’s here.” Matt doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t even shift to acknowledge the guard's presence; he’s found that if he holds himself absolutely still, he can slow the spinning and repress the nausea to tolerable levels, slightly stabilize his core temperature from its extreme ricocheting between hot and cold, burning and shivering. He'd given up trying to stop his body from its constant, violent trembling; it'd started at some point during the night, and hadn't taken a break from it since. “Hey, you hear me? Thought you were blind, not deaf!” snaps the guard, and he slides a key into the lock. Matt hears a soft click as the latch unlocks, and the gate swings open. “Your lawyer’s here and he wants to see you. Get up.” “I’m staying here,” Matt says flatly. “I don’t want to see him.” “I don’t give a sh*t what you want, inmate—your a**hole attorney is threatening to file a lawsuit against this entire prison if he doesn’t get to see you, and I’m not gonna be the sorry son of a bitch who gets held responsible. So, get up, and get moving.” Matt doesn’t bother to point out all the lawsuits they would have on their hands if word ever got out about even half of went on in here. Then again, the warden seems capable of making anything he wants to disappear. A veritable bureaucratic magician. The violence Matt had witnessed in here even before this, the things he heard for weeks on end— He stands up slowly, one trembling hand still pressed against the wound at his side, his shoulder pressed gingerly against the wall for support. The guard unsnaps a leather pouch, then gestures wordlessly with a pair of handcuffs for Matt to put his hands out in front of him. Matt grits his teeth, pointedly doesn’t react. I am not Daredevil— “Oh, f***’s sake,” the guard mutters. “Hold your hands out in front you, inmate.” “Is that really necessary?” scoffs Matt. Still, he holds his arms out, bloodied palms splayed up. “I was indicted on suspicion of perjury and obstruction of justice, not for running a fight club.” The irony of the defense isn’t lost on Matt. “And yet, here you are in solitary for fighting with another inmate. Want to avoid cuffs, Murdock? Learn to keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut. Your fancy degree don’t mean sh*t in here.” The cold metal clicks shut around his aching wrists— You're still so naïve, Matthew— —and the guard walks him down the cellblock. Matt walks slowly, the only act of resistance left to him, feeling suddenly furious that Foggy keeps returning to the prison, keeps risking his safety; doesn’t he understand that Matt can’t keep him safe anymore? Can’t even keep himself safe. He still feels drugged, like he’s only witnessing everything from somewhere deep inside his own body, not actually living it. Like if he tried to speak, he’d be able to say nothing at all. The moment they enter, Foggy is all movement and barely restrained displeasure. He stands up, his fingertips pressing against the plexiglass that separates them, the clean scent of his cologne cutting through the lingering stench of the prison, and Matt, against himself, is grateful for it, for the sense of gentleness and stability that is carried with it. Surrounding yourself with soft stuff isn't life, it's death— “Get those cuffs off of him,” Foggy demands, redirecting Matt's attention away from phantoms lingering in the corners of the room. “This institution may be in the business of dehumanizing inmates, but he’s a non-violent offender awaiting trial, and I’m here to have a civilized conversation with a human being. Get them off, and then get out.” The guard’s heartbeat speeds up in a rush of anger, but he complies. Matt suffers the touch of the guard once more as he removes the cuffs from around his wrists. Tries not to think about the next time the cuffs will go back on, back off, back on; the endless violations of bodily autonomy waiting for him that he can do nothing about.  “What the hell, Foggy,” Matt bites out the moment the guard has left the room. "You may get to leave at the end of this meeting, but I don’t. Maybe try not to make me enemy number one of every single guard in here.” “What do you mean every single guard? Have other guards been mistreating you?” asks Foggy, and his tone indicates that he’s prepared to pick a fight with every single guard that has even so much as looked at Matt. “Jesus, Foggy,” mutters Matt. “That’s the part you hear? I just meant that I don’t need you to antagonize the guards for me on my first day in general population, ok?” “Not ok, Matt," snaps Foggy, but he releases a deep breath of his own and stops pacing long enough to sit down across the table from Matt. The breath hardly helped, Matt thinks, he can still hear Foggy’s heart racing like a cornered animal. “Matt,” Foggy starts to say, then falters, sits down across from him and tries again. “Listen. I don’t know what strings got pulled to transfer you to general population, but I’m working on it. It wasn’t a legal transfer. I’m filing a transfer back to protective custody while Karen is investigating who’s behind this. In the meantime, I just—I need you to keep your head down, ok? There's—there's someone else in here, other than Fisk—someone who has it out for you... and for me." “Foggy, it's fine,” Matt interrupts, not wanting to draw this out any longer than he has to. “I already know about Sweeney.” “Sh*t,” Foggy curses. “Did something happen between you two? Did Sweeney—are you—is that why you’re in solitary? Wait, no, did something happen last night? Is that why he sent that message to me?” For one long, disorienting moment, Matt thinks he’s going to be sick again. The nausea rises up in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it down and keep it down. The nausea roils, threatens to rise again, his body burning cold with the effort to keep it in check. His very own Sisyphean punishment, he thinks. How appropriate. A fitting punishment for the arrogant hero who dared to challenge a god. What hubris, what naïveté. “What did Sweeney send to you,” Matt bites out through gritted teeth, certain that if he opens his mouth any more he’ll lose the fight with his stomach. “Foggy, what did he send you?” “Just, a text message," Foggy says, his pulse quickening as the clean scent of his sweat begins to sour with fear. "What else would he send me, Matt?” The rigidity of Matt’s posture softens ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to talk, but finds that nothing comes out. He licks his lips, tries again: "I don't, it doesn't matter. I, just, what did he say?" A few moments pass before Foggy answers, and he thinks that Foggy won’t let it go, whatever it is that’s bothering him about Matt’s response. Matt tilts his head back up from the table. Defiantly tries to meet Foggy’s eyes. Probably ends up looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Sweeney was just letting me know that he’s in here with you, Matt,” Foggy concedes, his shoulders collapsing with a resigned exhale. “Probably trying to make me sweat. But then I get here first thing this morning and they tell me that you’ve somehow already managed to land yourself in solitary. Seriously, Matt, what the hell happened? Did he provoke you into a fight?” "Nothing happened," Matt replies bitterly, almost surprised at his own reaction, that he can still feel so hurt over something as trivial as this: that this must have been Matt's fault, that Matt allowed himself to be provoked into recklessness again.  “Jesus, Matt, do you seriously expect me to believe that? I mean, I know you can’t actually see what you look like, but I'm, I’m personally having major flashbacks to that time I found you dying on your apartment floor,” Foggy snaps back, leaning toward the plexiglass as he finishes his rant in a furious whisper. “So, can you, just, for once in your freaking life be straight with me? Because I really don’t want to drag Jessica or Karen into this, really, really don’t want to interrogate every single guard in here, but if you won’t tell me what’s going on—" Foggy’s breath is high in chest, and his pulse is elevated with emotion, but his heartbeat is steady, no hint of a bluff. Panic rises up in Matt at the thought of—no. Foggy can’t. He can’t— They're watching, Matthew—

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