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How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Charles Flynn, Apr 22, 2020.

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  1. Threadmarks: Chapter 109
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Flynn!’ Galahad shouts at me through our mental link, and I sit up halfway in my current bed, feeling woozy. ‘Flynn, you have to wake up and get out of there! He’s coming!

    I shake my head in the hopes of bringing clarity. ‘Who’s coming? What are you-

    That’s when the wall explodes, and a stocky man with black hair, a thick moustache, and a thoroughly crazed expression breaks through the shattered bricks with a cry of “AND HEEEEERE’S ATTILA!”

    As I’m still reeling, he grabs me by the arm and chucks me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, before turning and running out through the new door he just made.

    All Servants, HELP!’ I send as I feel my stomach start to churn from how I’m bouncing up and down on his shoulder as I run. ‘I’m being kidnapped by Attila the Hun!’ And chalk another one up on the list of sentences I never expected to hear myself say.

    Did I forget to post guards? Is that why this is happening? Sonnuva- This is why I have to be more paranoid! Because when I’m not, shit like this happens! Or Medea poisons me.

    Attila dashes like a madman through the streets, ducking every which way and turning corners at speeds only a Servant can manage. I think I feel my ribs strain under the G-force as he rounds one particularly sharp bend without slowing down in the slightest.

    Eventually, though, we reach the outskirts of Rome, and he tosses me down to the ground.

    I lie there for a moment, completely and utterly exhausted and feeling like I’ve just been tenderized.

    Then Attila kicks me in the ribs. “Get up.”

    I comply, wincing as do so.

    He points at a horse waiting for us. “Get on.”

    “Where are you taking me?” I ask, deciding that I should at least try to get some information out of this.

    He blinks in surprise. “Why, my camp, of course, where we can celebrate our new alliance!”

    Huh? “What new alliance?”

    “Why, the one Chaldea and I just entered into!” Attila explains cheerfully. “The one where your Servants have agreed to unconditionally obey my orders and help me, forfeiting all of their share of the loot, in exchange for me not killing you!” His eyes harden. “Now get on the damn horse, Master of Chaldea, or it’s back over the shoulder for you.”

    I reluctantly get on the horse behind Attila. ‘He’s planning to use me as a hostage to secure your compliance.

    Can you get away?’ Caesar asks desperately.

    I think back to the madcap dash through the streets of Rome. ‘No.

    How’d he know we were here?’ Yan Qing asks in frustration. ‘Hell, how’d he even manage to sneak past us? Who was on watch?

    There’s a moment of silence over the link, before Galahad reluctantly speaks up. ‘Actually, I don’t think anybody was on watch. Flynn didn’t assign us any.

    I thought Augustus was providing us security!’ I protest. ‘We were in his house!

    Hold on.’ Romulus orders, settling the brewing argument. ‘Even when it isn’t assigned, Cursed Arm usually takes up guard duty. I can’t see him with my Imperial Privilege-granted Clairvoyance.

    Then…’ I falter. How the Hell did Attila kill Cursed Arm with anyone noticing? ‘I’m beginning to think that we have greatly underestimated Attila.

    That gets a chorus of agreements.

    We’re trying to get you out, apprentice.’ Medea says, her voice determined. ‘Stay strong.

    And so, I try to make myself comfortable, as I ride away from my allies, and deeper into the grasp of the Hun.

    ---

    I hear the full story, or at least as much of it as we know of, as I ride behind Attila.

    The first thing any of my Servants knew about Attila’s smash-and-grab was when Georgios, Galahad, Medea, and Caesar all suddenly felt a powerful Servant’s presence near my chambers. Galahad tried to warn me, but... well, I know how effective that was. Yan Qing was in a brothel halfway across the city in the opposite direction. Romulus was out reassuring the people and couldn’t be seen to leave abruptly. To do so would be a grievous blow to morale.

    The Servants at hand simply weren’t fast enough to keep up with Attila’s break-neck pace through the city. Beyond that, the Huns launched a sneak attack that covered his escape.
    We’ve been completely outfoxed. Now, all I can do is wait and watch for when my captor slips up.

    So glad I brought a few vials of my poisons with me.

    ---

    After a few hours of uninterrupted riding at speeds no horse should be able to sustain, our destination comes into view. It’s a sprawling mess of a tent city, various Huns carousing as they go from tent to tent, speaking in a tongue I don’t know.

    As soon as we ride into view, the city’s inhabitants pour out of it to meet us, chanting, “A-TTI-LA! A-TTI-LA!”

    He dismounts, raising his hands in the v-pose of a triumphant athlete. The minute he gets off, the horse keels over, stone dead. “My people! Once more, as it has always been, and as it shall always be, I HAVE TRIUMPHED!”

    “A-TTI-LA! A-TTI-LA!”

    “I have taken the commander of Chaldea! I have walked the very streets of Rome, and NONE COULD STAND AGAINST ME!” he roars, beating his chest, and then, to my confusion, pulling a human skull out of a pouch tied to his belt. “Oh, come on, Bleda, bitch at me. Pull that Roman dick out of your mouth and complain about how awesome I am.

    He holds up the skull, and then, to my confused horror, starts moving its jaw with his thumb and talking in a high-pitched falsetto out of the side of his mouth. “’Oh, noes Attila! Now the Romans will never pay us all that tribute money, and I won’t be able to pay off all my boyfriends! I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep, and then write you an angry letter, you hear me? A VERY ANGRY LETTER!’”

    Attila casts the skull down in the blink of an eye, shattering it against the ground. “Shut up, coward!” He frowns. “Okay, somebody get me a new skull. I want to mock my dead brother some more.”

    “A-TTI-LA! A-TTI-LA!”

    I look around in confusion. Did… did they not just see that? The great crowd of Huns still stare at him with admiration, not a single one letting any sort of doubt and dismay creep onto their features as they chant his name with blind adoration. Attila the Hun just used his dead brother’s skull as a hand puppet. Am I the only one who finds this weird?

    “Now then! My guest and I have had a long ride back from Rome! PREPARE THE FEAST!”

    “A-TTI-LA! A-TTI-LA!”

    “And knock off the chanting. It’s getting old.”

    “A-TTI-LA! A-TTI-LA!”

    “Next person who says ‘Attila’ is getting my sword rammed straight down their throat.”

    Dead silence.

    ---

    “So, Mister Flynn, how are you liking your accommodations thus far?” Attila asks me, gnawing on a leg of lamb.

    “Can’t say I much care for the looming threat of death, Lord Etzel, but the food, at least, is good.” I reply, chewing on a Roman pastry that they apparently stole from a cookshop along the Via Appia.

    “Glad to hear it!” he cheers, before holding up the skull. “’Don’t mind my brute of a brother. He has no appreciation for the finer things in life.’” The skull/Bleda is thrust uncomfortably close to my face. “’I, on the other hand, am fully capable of appreciating all of life’s… subtler pleasures. Tell me, Master of Chaldea, are you married?’”

    I do my level best to keep smiling, even as I scream internally. How do I come up with a way out of this? Attila the Hun propositioning me through a human skull he’s using as a hand puppet and pretending is his dead brother is not remotely something my life has prepared me to respond to.

    Let’s see, what sort of response would Attila be pleased by?

    Okay, this one’s a bit of a gamble, but… “I would rather stick my dick in a rabid badger than ever have sex with you.”

    Attila gives a great, shoulder shaking belly laugh, and slaps me on the back (which isn’t doing my ribs any favors.) “Well, you heard the man, Bleda. You’ve been rejected! Time to drown!” he then dunks the skull in the wine barrel. “’Oh noes! I can’t breathe! Help me, Attilaaaaa! I’m droooowniiiiinbrglbrglbrgl.

    Galahad, is it normal for a grown man to use a human skull as a hand puppet and pretend it’s his dead brother?’ I ask over the mental link, desperately trying to cling to some semblance of reality as the Huns on the benches laugh and applaud their leader’s performance.

    Flynn? Thank God. We haven’t heard from you in hours. Some of us were starting to get worried.’ Galahad replies. ‘And no, that’s not even remotely normal. Why are you even asking me that?

    Because Attila’s doing it, and it’s really starting to wear away at me. And everyone in the camp is just treating it like it’s completely normal. I was honestly starting to question my sanity for a while, there.

    I get an overwhelming sense of resignation from my Shielder. ‘This is the guy that outsmarted us.

    Yeah. I’m starting to think he might just be doing it in order to make losing to him even more humiliating.’

    Just stay alive, find out what you can, and contact me if you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality again.

    Will do. You guys got a plan to get me out of here?

    Not telling you. You might accidentally give it away.

    Fair enough.

    Attila is looking at me, his face a few inches away from mine.

    “Lord Atli?” I ask, leaning backwards in my seat to get away from him.

    “You can call me Attila again, I already executed Bleda for doing so, so the rest of you are in the clear.”

    I look, and, sure enough, Attila’s prismatically reflective sword has been thrust down through the keg he drowned “Bleda” in, its blade driven between the skull’s jaws.

    “Is there a reason you’ve been staring at me?” I ask with a pained grin.

    “We’re going to see the witch. And strategize.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing even further as I wilt under his gaze. “Is my nose bleeding?”

    “No.”

    “Good. It’d be embarrassing to die of a nosebleed twice.” He grabs my hand. “Come on.”

    And so, I’m dragged out of the feast hall, towards the abandoned hut, which Attila kicks down the door of.

    “Honey! I’m home!”

    “Etzel.” A woman’s voice says in greeting. Its owner walks out of the shadows, a full-bodied woman of German ethnicity, dressed in black. She stares at us with hateful eyes. “Why have you disturbed me? Have you found Hagen? Speak quick, before I decide to rip out your tongue.”

    “No. I have not yet found your brother, Kriemhild.” Attila tells her with a forced smile. “But I have found the Master of Chaldea!”

    “I care not for Chaldea,” she snarls. “Find me Hagen! I’ll cut him down with my true husband’s blade.”

    “Yes, dear, but I just thought you should know that he’s very important for our Hagen-finding activities, and you shouldn’t kill him. Just making sure we’re all on the same page, you know?” Attila’s smile is a bit forced.

    “Yeeeesssss,” she says, smiling in a manner that in no way whatsoever reassuring. “He knows, doesn’t he? He knows where my brother is. He knows where Hagen is!’ She lunges for me, pinning me to the wall by my collar. “TELL ME, BOY! WHERE IS HAGEN?” Her mad, wild eyes stare into mine, and I find that I can’t look away. “Tell me. Tell me, or I’ll boil the flesh from your bones, and bind your soul into the slurry, an eternally screaming, self-aware cauldron of simmering meat.

    “Ah, Kriemhild, he doesn’t actually know where Hagen is.” Attila interrupts, prying her clawing hands away from my throat, and then flinching when she looks at him. “R-Remember? I told you when I was asking you to scry for him. His Servants can find Hagen for us, since there are six of them, and they aren’t caught up in the war effort.”

    “Hm?” she seems to think about it for a moment, and then releases me, softly petting me on the head like I’m a cocker spaniel that’s been good. “Yes, that’ll do. That’ll do quite nicely.” She smiles, and it’s a beautiful, broken thing. “Be a good boy, little Master, and find my brother for me soon, won’t you?” She leans in to whisper in my ear. “I don’t think that I can wait much longer.

    Then she turns about and stalks off into the dark and shadowy depths of her lair, leaving me and Attila to shakily make our way out.

    We both let out a sigh of relief when we’re out of sight of Kriemhild’s cabin.

    Then, Attila turns to me. “You wanna go get drunk together?”

    “Hell yes.”
     
  2. Narmish

    Narmish I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Atilla is being a tad bit too human for someone who is related to Velber. Also siblings? How? Canon has partially died but have you made it so Atilla isn't an alien?
     
  3. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Bleda is in fact the real, historical Attila's brother. They were co-kings until Attila got sick of him having actual priorities in life besides raping, pillaging, and burning, and subsequently had him killed.

    And as for how he's this Attila's brother, it's simple: Attila's adopted.
     
  4. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Well if they somehow summon him in Chaldea and he works with them, then at least Blackbeard will get a new weirdo friend.

    And that is when many in Chaldea shall become alcoholics.
     
    Hammers_Bjorn and Charles Flynn like this.
  5. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    So did Flynn forget he has Command Seals?
     
  6. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    He doesn't use them all that often.

    He may also be worried that Attila can kill his Servants, since he doesn't know all that much about his capabilities, so he doesn't want to use them in case Attila is able to kill them.
     
  7. ArKFallen

    ArKFallen _____

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    I don't recall him ever having used or been told about command seals. Maybe he used one in the Black Knight Arthur blitz but I don't know.
     
  8. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Yes.
     
  9. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Hmm, it makes some sense.

    His Servants tend to cooperate with him so he doesn't need to use the seals to get them to do things.

    He also doesn't need to use them to empower them seeing as he prefers to use quick stealth and assassination tactics to beat foes instead of say having a prolonged battle.
     
  10. Delta Green

    Delta Green Know what you're doing yet?

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    Plus, it is the Scourge of God.

    ... Here's hoping Georgios becomes more and more Emperor of Mankind-like.
     
  11. Threadmarks: Chapter 110
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    “You know what I want?” Attila asks, staring at me through bleary eyes. We’ve both had a bit too much to drink in our attempt to forget the living nightmare that was Gunnhild’s hut, Attila drinking considerably more than me due to his Servant status, but we’re about even as far as drunkenness is concerned. Although I’ll admit I was trying to watch how much I was drinking, so maybe he’s a bit drunker than me.

    “Is it to burn Rome?” I ask, manfully containing a hiccup. Time to cut myself off, I think.

    “Naw, man. Fuck Rome. Fuck burning shit, I do that all the time!” Attila looks me dead in the eye, our souls, in that moment, bound together in the sense of deep, universal brotherhood restricted to fratboys and the extremely intoxicated (but I repeat myself.) “I wanna be a florist.”

    “What?”

    “I wanna be a florist.” He repeats, his voice as thick with sincerity as his breath is thick with the smell of booze. “I just- I’ve spent my whole life doing nothing but destroy stuff, and I’m really good at it, but I just can’t help but wonder, is this all there is to life? Am I just… throwing away huge opportunities just because destruction is all I know? I mean… I’m an awesome barbarian warlord-“

    “Hell yeah, you are!” I cheer, giving him the complementary back slap that is expected from me.

    “-but, that’s all I am. It’s all I do.” He stares at the heavens, currently obscured by the ceiling of the drinking tent. “Oh, if you ever tell anyone I said this, I’ll kill you.”

    “My lips are sealed.” I assure him with a solemn nod.

    “I’m great at destroying things, yeah, but it’s all I know how to do. Always has been.” He groans, taking another shot.

    “Even when you were a baby?” I ask, leaning in.

    “Yeah. I used to break all of Bleda’s toys.” Attila notes with a fond smile, which quickly turns into a frown. “And that’s just it! I was trying to be nice to him, but I always made him cry! I can’t create! I can only destroy!”

    “Gonna be honest, was not expecting this many personal confessions.” I say, looking at him uncomfortably.

    “Don’t care.” Attila grunts, downing another bottle. “I’m sick of this shit. I need someone to vent to, and you’re the only person in this entire camp that isn’t a mindless kill-bot created by humanity’s cognition of the Huns or Kriemhild.”

    “They’re mindless?” I repeat questioningly, looking at our bartender, who’s not really reacting to our conversation.

    “Flynn, I did a puppet show with a human skull in front of them, and they still treated it like it was the greatest thing since the invention of war. Of course they’re mindless.”

    “So, the puppet show was you trying to provoke a reaction? You didn’t do that while you were alive?”

    He full on laughs. “No, I actually did the puppet shows when I was alive. With Bleda’s actual head, even. I wanted to test how feared I was, to see if I could do a goddamn puppet show in front of my entire army without a single one of them having the balls to call me on it. And they didn’t say a single word. It was fucking hilarious.” He pauses, looking a tad melancholy. “I kept doing it, afterwards. I wanted to see how far I could take it before they’d call me on it. They never did.” He looks at me sharply. “Is my nose bleeding?”

    “No.”

    “Good.”

    “So, if you’re so sick of war and bloodshed, why don’t you quit?” I ask, deciding to try my luck and take his newfound talkative mood for all it’s worth.

    “I can’t. Destruction is all I can do.”

    “You’re being a bit melodramatic, aren’t you?”

    “I’m being entirely literal, Flynn. Destruction is all I can do.” He sighs, looking down at his hands. “I tried cooking, once. Just… to see if I could, you know? Try to make something, anything. Prove to myself that I’m more than just a tool of destruction.”

    “And did you?”

    “I can’t make a fucking sandwich, Flynn.”

    “What?”

    “I can’t even make a sandwich.” Attila repeats, looking down at his hands. “I can’t even make a sandwich. Scourge of God, and the Terror of Rome, and I can’t even make a sandwich.” He breaks down sobbing, “I can’t make a fucking sandwich!”

    I awkwardly pat him on the back as he weeps. “I mean… maybe with practice?”

    “It’s pointless. I just…” he at the bar with a sigh. “…I wanted to be something more. But I guess that’s not who I am.” He raises his next drink with snarl. “So, here’s to me, Attila, Breaker of Shit. It’s all I am, and it’s all I’ll ever be.”

    I join him in taking a drink, which is of course when he turns to me and asks, “So, how’s your sex life?”

    ---

    “So then, she did this thing with her tongue, and I was all like-“ Attila recounts, lost in the haze of pleasant memories.

    “Can we please stop talking about this?” I plead.

    “Just trying to point out what you’re missing out on.” Attila says, slapping me on the back.

    “Look, maybe I’ll find some nice girl somewhere and settle down, long after this whole mess is over. But for now, I’m not going to emotionally compromise myself and potentially complicate my working relationships for short-term gratification.”

    “I mean, depending on your stamina, it can actually be some pretty long-term gratification. I mean, I remember my third wife. She could go on for hours. Real screamer, too, though that might have just been because I kidnapped her.”

    “Oh, hey, how about we talk about literally anything else,” I beg. “Like your ransom demands! How do you aim to use my six Servants to come out ahead and win?”

    “I don’t, actually.”

    “What?”
    “I don’t aim to win.” Attila says, taking another drink. “I just want to fight.”

    “So, you don’t want to destroy Rome?” I ask cautiously.

    “Nah, I want to destroy everything.” Attila says with a small smile. “Rome included. Every time I see something, it’s like there’s this little voice in the back of my head telling me to fuck it up. But I also want to stop being a conqueror and become a florist, and to become the first man in history to ever walk on Mars. I want a lot of things. Just because I want to do something doesn’t mean I immediately have to do it.”

    “Why Mars?” I ask curiously.

    “Because Mars is the shit, dude.” Attila answers, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “But that one’s about as far out of my reach as being a florist, so I can consider it impossible, too. Anyways, it’s pretty clear that destroying things is all I can do, no matter how utterly sick of it I am. So, I just have to make do with what I have, and have what fun I can with destruction alone. And how the hell am I supposed to do that when Humanity’s been Incinerated?”

    “So, you want Augustus to win…”

    “But I also want to stretch things out as long as possible.” Attila finishes for me, grinning merrily. “I don’t fight to win anymore, Flynn. Winning is boring. I fight to fight. And also to win, a little, but mostly to fight.

    “So, you want us to stretch things out for you.”

    “Nah.” He pokes me on the nose. “You don’t get to figure out my plans that easily.” He strolls off, swaying slightly as he goes. “Keep him under watch, boys.”

    Galahad?’ I send over the mental link. ‘You there?

    Yes.’ He replies.

    I think Attila might be playing a longer game than any of us thought.

    Are you drunk?’ he sends back, along with the impression of a raised eyebrow.

    Only a little.’ I say. ‘He sort of appointed me his new drinking buddy. While we were drinking and shooting the shit, he gave me the impression that he actually has a real plan in the works. And I have no idea what it is.

    Look, he’s clearly underestimating us.’ Galahad assures me. ‘And I haven’t seen much of a tactical mind from him thus far.

    Except when he completely sucker-punched us and kidnapped me. Don’t underestimate him. He’s got another Servant here backing him up, too: Kriemhild. I’m not sure if she’s a Caster or a Berserker.’ I pause, thinking it over. ‘There’s a free spot in the Servant roster, right? Find a way to summon Siegfried.

    Um, about that.’ Galahad seems a bit sheepish all of a sudden. ‘You might want to find a place to hide.

    I hear the barricade serving as their gate explode.

    You’re already starting your assault?

    “Excellent!” Attila says from behind me. “I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow!”

    I turn, looking at him with dread. “Are you going to kill me?”

    “Don’t be foolish, boy. I wanted them to do this. It’s why I had Kriemhild set up the Bounded Field to eavesdrop on your mental link, and not to block off the communication.” He grins at my expression. “What, you thought I didn’t know about that? You really did underestimate me.” He pauses. “It was the hand puppetry, wasn’t it? Nobody ever takes the guy with the hand puppet anywhere near as seriously as they should.”

    “Y-you what?”

    “And from there it was just a matter of predicting their assault.” He grins, spreading his arms wide. “And now here we are. Come on then, pal. Let’s get moving.”

    And with that, he grabs me by the arm and drags me towards the sound of the fighting.

    Guys, full alert. Attila- ow- planned for this!

    And then we emerge into the battlefield.

    The Huns have grouped up, but my Servants, with a Roman legion at their backs, are cutting them down easily. Medea soars on the wings of her cloak, while below, Romulus and Caesar fight side by side, exhorting their troops to further glory. And at the forefront of the battle, the vanguard consists of the wedge of Siegfried, Georgios, and Galahad, splitting the Hunnic ranks wide open. I can’t see Yan Qing, but since he’s an Assassin, I’m probably not supposed to.

    And then Attila laughs. “Well, well. They brought in my competition. What a surprise.”

    “Jealous?” I ask, rubbing my arm.

    “Nah. Kriemhild and I both knew it was no more than a business arrangement when we entered the marriage. And besides, I know for a fact that I’ve gotten more action in a month than that poor sap has in his entire life. I’m not going to begrudge him one woman who wasn’t really much of a catch anyways. Crazy bitch.

    Steel rings on steel, and Siegfried is suddenly directly in front of us, Balmung pressed hard against the sword of Mars. “I’m sorry. My hearing isn’t exactly the best, these days. Would you care to repeat what you just called my wife?”

    Attila’s released me, both hands on his sword as he grins wildly. “Now this is what I like! Two men fighting with all they’ve got! Almost makes battle seem worth the trouble again!” he sets his feet firmly beneath him, hands tightly gripping his sword as he breaks away and then goes in with a strike of his own, starting off their dance of steel.

    “You’re the one she remarried to, aren’t you?” Siegfried asks as they duel, the shockwaves of their blows slamming me back against one of the tents and setting buildings toppling down around them. “Thank you for taking care of her when I couldn’t.”

    “It was a mere business arrangement, no more. Kriemhild was more than capable of taking care of herself,” Attila says, licking his lips. “But she always did say that you were better than me with the sword. Let’s see just how right she was!”

    Galahad helps me up, while Georgios fends off the few Huns that are daring to venture close to their leader’s duel. “You alright, Flynn?”’’

    “Yeah. Better now that you’re here.” I start thinking. What the Hell is Attila’s endgame? What does he want? He said himself that he enjoys destruction, and is almost compelled to take part in it, but also wants to try his hand at something else. How does this plan, this invasion of his camp by a superior force, fit in? What is he trying to accomplish?

    Suddenly, I feel a chill down my spine, and turn to look at its source.

    She’s coming.

    Clad in black, her eyes wild, and her mouth peeled back in a sickly, hateful grin, Kriemhild walks down the street, the shadows deepening as she goes.

    She’s coming.

    “Hagen!” she screams out. “Show yourself, you coward!”
    “That’s Siegfried’s wife?” Galahad asks incredulously.

    “I think she was a considerably more mentally stable person before she ended up a widow.” I say, hiding behind him. ‘Now stay quiet, and hold very, very still, and she might not notice us. I think her vision might be based on movement.

    That makes absolutely no sense.

    You’ve never seen Jurassic Park, have you?

    Of course I haven’t. I lived in the Sixth Century A.D.’ he pauses. ‘Mash hasn’t either.’

    If we make it through this alive, I’ll organize a movie night.

    “Face me, you coward!” Kriemhild bellows, dagger in hand. “No matter if you’ve caught me off guard, I’ll kill you with my husband’s blade again and again and again until you stay dead!”

    The Attila/ Siegfried duel broke apart on her arrival, and Siegfried stares at his wife in disbelief. “Kriemhild?”

    Her head turns, and she stares at him in confusion. “Sieg…fried?” And then she lunges at him. “I hate you! IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!”

    She’s crying as he grabs her arms and forces her to stop trying to stab him. “And I still love you, all the same.”

    “You left me,” she’s sobbing full-force, now. “You left me, and it hurt. How could you do that to me? How could you just leave me behind like that?”

    “I didn’t have a choice,” he protests. “Brunnhilde was threatening war. The only way for the kingdom to be saved was for me to die.”

    “No, the only way for Hagen to get what he wanted was for you to die,” Kriemhild replies, looking utterly forlorn. “And you bought it hook line and sinker. Hell, you would’ve just rolled over and died for him even if he hadn’t bothered with his excuses, because you’d do anything if someone asked you politely enough. Without a care in the world for the people that loved you.”

    “Kriemhild, I-“

    “You don’t love me. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have hurt me worse than I’ve ever been hurt before.” She collapses into his shoulder sobbing as he looks like she just ran him over with a truck. “I hate you. I hate you so damn much.”

    “Kriemhild, I’m sorry,” Siegfried says, open desperation in his eyes. “I’m sorry I left you behind. I’m sorry I didn’t think about how you’d feel. Please, let me make it up to you. Please.”

    “Too late for that.” She breaks away from him, revealing her own dagger embedded directly in her heart. “Let’s see how you like it, you stupidselfless… bastard.”

    I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look as devastated as Siegfried does, staring at the dissipating remains of his wife.

    Attila clears his throat. “So, um… could we maybe get back to the important stuff? Namely me? Because, I mean, we were kind of fighting before our crazy mutual wife interrupted, and…”

    What emerges from Siegfried’s throat as he outright lunges at Attila can’t be called even remotely human. Instead, it’s the primal snarl of an enraged dragon.

    His form, previously tight and controlled, vanishes as he throws himself at his adversary. Attila, for his part, doesn’t lose his cool. For all his showboating outside of combat, when he’s fighting, his swordsmanship is perfect. It’s calm and methodical, with nary a wasted motion to be found. Against the rage-blinded Siegfried, he’s now unstoppable.

    Finally, he baits the dragonslayer into a charge, and sends him flying at least a mile away from the camp with a swing from the flat of his blade. Then, for some reason, he tosses the blade on after his opponent, before putting his hands on his hips and smirking.

    “Was there a point to throwing your sword away?” I can’t help but ask, before flinching as his eyes fall on me.

    “Of course there was!” he assures me enthusiastically. “Did you know that Mars likes to wear frilly pink dresses?” From out in the distance, in the direction he tossed Siegfried, there’s a great roar, and a massive eruption of prismatic energy. “Or that he likes to braid his hair with pink ribbons to make himself feel like a pretty, pretty princess?” KRAKATHOOM! “Or that his favorite hobbies include textile work, tending to olive trees, and planning out his battles in advance instead of just running in like a fucking dumbass?” KRAKATHOOM! “Oh, wait, that hobby list I was just describing? That’s actually Minerva’s. You know, the better war god.” That one gets the biggest explosion yet.

    What is happening right now?” I scream in frustrated confusion.

    “That’s just my Noble Phantasm,” Attila brags. “The Sword of Mars. So called because it was his sword before I stole it from him.”

    “You robbed my father?” Romulus asks incredulously as he and Caesar join the perimeter around the Hun, alongside Galahad and Georgios. Medea is hovering overhead, her glowing runic diagrams at the ready.

    “Yep. I was, I want to say twelve at the time. He just showed up out of nowhere and started rambling on and on about some sort of White Titan, and some guy named ‘Sefar’ and how he wouldn’t let me bring ruin to this world once more.” He pauses. “And then I kicked him in the ‘nads, stole his sword, and started beating him senseless with it.” He shakes his head, seemingly unaware of the wary stares everyone in the perimeter is now giving him. “Boring fight, really. He never recovered from the initial sucker punch.”

    “Your Noble Phantasm… is from when you mugged a god,” I say disbelievingly.

    “Poor trade, really. It still only really works for Mars. But, at least I can manage to use it as a reusable bomb by taunting him.”

    “You may have incapacitated Siegfried with my father’s stolen sword, short temper, and terrible aim, barbarian, but you will not pull off a second victory,” Romulus announces, his eyes hard. “We outnumber you six to one, and you are currently unarmed. Make your peace with whatever gods you hold dear. You will be seeing them shortly.”

    “You’re right.” Attila concedes. “This is the end of the line. I’m outnumbered, and outgunned. As such, there’s only one last technique left to try.”

    “Don’t even think about it,” Romulus commands, his hands tightening about his spear as he readies himself to lunge forward and end the threat.

    “Oh, I think it actually has fair odds of succeeding, even if I’ve never before in all my life been pushed to the point where I’d have to use it,” Attila says with a smirk, and then he throws up his hands and- “I surrender.”

    “What?” I ask, not quite believing what I just heard. Romulus stopped his spear inches from Attila’s chest, and he’s looking just as flabbergasted as I feel.

    “I. Surrender.” Attila repeats, still grinning. “Are you familiar with the concept? I have conceded defeat and stated that I will make no attempt to resist you any further, placing my trust in your mercy.” He laughs. “Unless, of course, you fail to meet my one condition of surrender.”

    “Which would be?” I prompt, feeling completely and utterly lost.

    “I want to help you guys out!” he says, prompting several indignant squawks from my Servants and myself. “I’m one hundred percent on Team Chaldea right now!”

    “Are you serious right now?” I scream at him.

    “Deadly. For your enemies.”

    “You freaking kidnapped me,” I snap, one eye twitching. “If you think you can just WALTZ BACK IN AND JOIN US-“

    “I’d be completely right,” Attila informs me. “After all, didn’t we already have an alliance going on? Just think of this as rearranging the terms.”

    “We didn’t- you- you- YOU!” I shout, pointing at him accusingly as my right eye begins to twitch and my words start to come out all jumbled. “KIDNAPPED ME!”

    “In my culture, it’s a gesture of utmost respect to show up unannounced at your new ally’s place of residence, kick down one of their walls, toss them over your shoulder and ride off.” He raises an eyebrow. “Are you disrespecting my cultural heritage?”

    “I-you!” I take a deep breath, and then collect my thoughts. “And what’s to stop me from just killing you anyways?”

    “Absolutely nothing.” Attila says, with a grin that practically screams that he’s going to turn the tables on me yet again. “Except, of course, that I was able to learn enough about you and your actions in other Singularities to accurately predict your behavior.”

    “Which means that…”

    “Anyone else could learn, if they know how to look like I did, exactly what you do here.” He grins. “Killing an unarmed and helpless opponent who’s surrendered to you? Do you really think that’ll go over well, especially considering all those times you’ve killed your enemies mid-parley? Can you honestly say that won’t influence whether enemies will be willing to surrender, and turn their coats?”

    “Even when you already planned this?” I point out, regaining my footing.

    “Except I’ve already stated that I have no intention of destroying the world, or in any way harming the world’s safety, and I’ll say it again before as many methods of lie detection you care to provide.” Attila counters. “So, by inference, my plan cannot cause any harm to you or Chaldea, but instead will perhaps aid it immensely, particularly since you gain the benefit of another Servant out of the mix.” He grins. “So really, the choice is simple: Your ability to do your job, or your pride?”

    “I-you-I-FUCK!” I start furiously swearing and punch the nearest tent. “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

    “I’ll take that as you agreeing to my terms of surrender.” Attila says with a satisfied smile. “Well, then, my new boss and comrades in arms, would you all care for a celebratory drink to commemorate our newfound alliance?”

    Medea screams something unintelligible in Greek, which sounds quite similar in spirit to my own sentiments, while Romulus and Caesar both look like they have no idea what just happened. Galahad is laughing his ass off, and Georgios just sighs.

    I take a deep breath, and then take my newest ally up on that drink.
     
  12. Bear_Mint

    Bear_Mint The LewdBringer. The Breast Observer.

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    This Atilla is good civilization. Causing Flynn headaches that Galahad just revels in.
     
  13. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Well I guess Galahad can become good friends with Attila.

    Both have a very similar hobby.

    Making Charlies life hell.

    I honestly think Galahad would try to learn a thing or two from Attila on how to torment Charlie, considering that in just a few short hours at most Attila managed to give Charlie a giant headache that very little of the abuse Galahad gave him can compare to.
     
  14. SotF

    SotF And Away We Go!

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    Well, this version of Attila seems to be more Flynn than Flynn...
     
  15. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    They both have the same approach to arguing that they do to fighting: Hit the opponent from every direction they don't see coming, overwhelming them with your speed, power, or preparedness until they have no choice but to concede. It's an approach that wins arguments, but doesn't endear them to people.
     
  16. Mr.Wizzard

    Mr.Wizzard Making the rounds.

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    I would like to nominate Atilla's alignment being changed to Chaotic Badass.
     
  17. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    When they next run into Lev all they need to do is throw Attila at him and then just watch the shitshow that commences.

    Either Attila beats him like he did with Mars, or Lev kills him and Charlie has someone that gave him massive trouble taken care of.

    Either way Charlie wins.
     
  18. caprica12

    caprica12 Getting out there.

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    Liked how this Attila had similar themes to canon Altera, like the alien thing and the destroyer thing, while being a completely different character.
    This is a little of Sigurd on this Sigfried since I don't remember canon Sigfried having any interaction with his wife. But maybe Kriemhild and Brynhildr are two different people too... neat.
    Big fan of how Attila trashed Ares as a kid. And it's funny how everyone is interconnected in their mythology, you have Attila telling a childhood story and Romulus being like 'you robbed my dad?'
    Also I know that Attila is Too Cool For That, but it was fun to imagine that before Sigurd start fighting him over badmouthing his (their?) wife, he'd be like 'wait, no, I mean it in an empowering way, like 'biiiiitch''.
    CHARLES YOU HAVE MET YOUR MATCH.
     
  19. Reven

    Reven Versed in the lewd.

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    I for one believe he would be an amazing florist. It's all about the mentality.



    Start at 1:20

    Also I think he would be an amazing butcher as well.
     
  20. Threadmarks: Chapter 111
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    “So.” Augustus looks at me coldly after I’ve finished my report. “You’re telling me that your presence in this entire Singularity has only served to get me even more Servants than I really needed in the first place, somehow play into the master plan of Attila the Hun, and extort me out of my money.”

    “I… suppose you could put it that way,” I say, cringing as he looks at me.

    “I’m beginning to sincerely worry for my continued survival, then, if my empire’s existence is dependent upon your success.”

    “We normally get considerably better results than this.” I protest.

    “Hm. Fascinating. It’s almost as if your presence here is completely redundant, and you’re only here to profit off of me.” Augustus observes mildly, leafing through a ledger as I continue to stand uncomfortably at attention in front of him. “Now what’s a word to describe such a thing as you, that contributes nothing and leeches off the resources of more successful creatures? Ah, yes, a ‘parasite.’”

    “…are we still getting paid?”

    “Get the fuck out of my office, Flynn.”

    ---

    I sigh and look at Roman’s holographic image. “So. Good news and bad news.”

    “You do realize that we can see everything you do from the command chamber, right?” Roman asks with a raised eyebrow. “We already know.”

    “Well, on the bright side, at least we’re still getting some pay, even if it is half of what was initially agreed upon.”

    “How’s Siegfried holding up?” Roman asks, as I sit down in my new room.

    It was a surprise when, on the detour we took to retrieve Attila’s sword, we found Siegfried alive, flat on his back and embedded in the ground at the bottom of the blast crater. “He’s… not been doing so well. Hasn’t really said anything and hasn’t really done much. He’s probably going to need counselling after this is over.”

    “And Attila?”

    “Cooperative, disarming and affable. Although, to be honest, he tends to be cooperative, disarming, and affable even when he’s trying to kill you.” I shake my head. “I think it might be that he just doesn’t consider violence to be that big of a deal.”

    “Keep an eye on him.”

    “Well, obviously.” I settle down for the night. “We’re moving out in force tomorrow to crush Cleopatra’s troops.”

    “Well, I suppose you should just sleep tight, and try not to be kidnapped again.”

    I flip him off as his holographic image vanishes, and then settle down to rest.

    ---

    I wake up a few hours later to the sound of someone knocking on the door, which, after a bit of fumbling to get properly dressed again, I answer.

    Caesar looks at me, perhaps the most profoundly exhausted fellow I’ve ever seen.

    “Master. May I speak with you?”

    “Certainly.” He asked in English, so I respond in kind.

    He takes a fortifying breath. “I suppose that I should be forthright with my desires on this matter: I do not wish to take part in tomorrow’s military action.”

    “May I ask why?”

    “I…” he looks uncomfortable. “May we discuss this matter inside?”

    “Sure.” I step aside and let him enter. Once he’s inside and seated, I ask the obvious question. “Is this because you don’t want to fight Cleopatra?”

    “Am I really that obvious?” he asks wryly.

    “Not really. I just spotted that you seemed a little off, and Galahad, who’s considerably better at reading people than me, confirmed it. Considering our enemy, the cause was easily deduced.”

    “Fair enough,” he concedes. “I suppose that my relationship with her wasn’t exactly a secret.” He looks at me with tired eyes. “I want to protect Rome, and humanity. But, even so, I can’t bring myself to fight the woman I loved on the behalf of the man who killed both her and our son.”

    “You don’t like Augustus very much, do you?”

    “No. I’m grateful to him for carrying out my legacy. I respect him for ending the wars and bringing Rome peace. But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for having Caesarion killed.”

    “Can’t really blame you. If you don’t want to take the field, I won’t force you to.”

    “Thank you, Master.”

    “Though, could I ask you something?”

    He looks at me with an upturned eyebrow. “Ask away.”

    “Why did you fall for her?”

    He snorts. “You don’t ask the easy questions, do you?”

    “Sorry if that’s too personal.”

    “No, it’s fine.” He looks at the wall for a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever really put it into words, but… from the start, I always had to keep moving forward. First, it was because I wanted to be consul, and erase the disgrace my father brought to the family name. Then, it was because I’d committed so many crimes in the process of becoming consul and working with the Triumvirate that, if I stopped moving forward, if I stopped taking more and more power for myself, I’d probably be executed. I just had to keep moving, no matter what. Consulship runs out? Go on a multi-year campaign to subdue Gaul. Gaul runs out of barbarians to fight? Go to Britain. Senate doesn’t renew the generalship? Cross the Rubicon. I marched forward, always escalating, always seizing more, until all my ambition had been replaced with a creeping dread that I had climbed so far up, that if I let go for even an instant, I would fall to my death.”

    “And then you met Cleopatra.”

    “And then I met Cleopatra,” he agrees with a soft smile. “and the first time, I felt as though it might not be a bad thing to just… stop. I wanted to stop the endless pursuit of more power, and just… rest. Finally find comfort in what I had, because what I had was more than enough.” His face hardens once more. “And then I died at the blades of the people who only lived because of my mercy, and my heir brought about the death of both her and my son. So, I suppose that my fears were accurate, in the end. For a man such as me, to stop is to die.”

    “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    “See that you do.” He gets up and leaves, leaving me to try and decide whether to try and catch a few more hours, or simply consider sleep a lost cause and make an early start to the day.

    In the end, I settle on the latter.

    ---

    “He’s still sleeping,” Lady Livia informs me. “Most people are. It’s still an hour before the dawn, which means it’s another three hours before when he usually gets up.”

    “I’m surprised. In all honesty, I thought he’d be up at the crack of dawn,” I say, my hands held behind my back. I asked around after the Emperor but was informed that he was still sleeping. So, they sent me to his wife.

    “So does he. He utterly hates having to sleep. Says there’s barely enough hours in the day already without having to waste seven of them every night.” She smiles fondly. “He works well into the night, and never sleeps soundly. But then, I suppose that’s why he’s Princeps. Sometimes it almost seems as though his body can barely contain him.”

    “A man of virtuous industry indeed, it seems.”

    “Yes, he most certainly is. I suppose that, since you’re in charge of saving humanity, you must keep to a similar schedule?”

    “Well, almost. I’ve had similar sentiments, before, though. Never seems to be enough time.” And I just realized that I really ought to hit the eject button on this conversation soon, before she really starts grilling me. This is Livia, the woman who stood behind two Emperors that wouldn’t have been half as effective without her. If not Augustus’ right hand, then at the very least his left. She’s certainly not someone to let your guard down around.

    Fortunately, salvation comes quickly. Unfortunately, that salvation comes in the form of Attila. “Master! Good, you’re up. I have some ideas for tomorrow!”

    “I really do have to go,” I say apologetically, as I turn to follow him.

    “I certainly understand. Do tell Lady Medea to visit me again, though. She was an absolute delight to talk to.” I try my hardest not to shudder at the implication of that.

    Attila starts talking as we make our way to the map room. “So, what’s left of Cleopatra’s army is currently up against the Apennines, and honestly, she’s been getting completely shredded throughout the whole campaign. Against Roman legions, her army of zombies, well, it doesn’t do so great.”

    “Why?”

    “Have you ever tried to get a group of zombies to form a coordinated battle line? Or do anything more complex than just charging the nearest enemy, even if they’re behind a defensive emplacement? Because trust me, it is not easy.” He snorts. “As long as the Romans stay in formation and keep their shield walls up, they can win against almost half again their number in zombies. Beyond that, Cleopatra isn’t much of a military thinker. She’s well-educated and intelligent, certainly, but she isn’t versed in tactics. She always maintained her rule through political and economic power. Bit like Augustus, now that I think about it.”

    “He still beat her at Actium,” I point out.

    “Only because he had Agrippa,” Attila counters, and I can’t really argue with that. “And at the time, she had Antony with her. Augustus still has his greatest general, right now, and Cleopatra is on her own.”

    “So… what’s your plan, and how sure are you that it’s necessary?” I ask. “Because from what you just told me, I’m getting the sense that, even if Chaldea doesn’t help Augustus, he’ll still win.”

    “True, you are currently about as necessary and useful to Augustus as an extra toe, but that’s what my plain aims to fix!”

    “How?”

    “I’ve planned out the best possible troop allocations to make sure that Chaldea comes out of this engagement looking like you actually contributed to the victory in a meaningful way, instead of looking like the band of utterly unhelpful kill-stealers you are.”

    “Hey!”

    “You knew full well that the Singularity would have resolved itself without you before you went in. That makes this kill-stealing.”

    “Fine. What’s your plan?”

    He lays it out before me, and I honestly can’t find fault with it. Which is just making me more worried.

    “I’ll need to make a few modifications.”

    ---

    “So.” Hector stands ready before the palisade to Cleopatra’s encampment. “You’ve returned to finish our duel at last, Sir Roland.”

    I count less than a hundred zombies milling through the encampment behind him. An Archer that looks wussy enough to be Paris stands atop a sniper’s spot, and behind him is-
    -Oh, that’s just Helen, she’s not important-
    -absolutely no one important. According to Augustus’ Assassin, who I still haven’t seen yet, Cleopatra is in the small farmhouse at the encampment’s heart, trying to summon another Servant.

    “I’m afraid not, noble Hector. The Emperor has forbidden me from engaging you in a proper duel.”

    “Yeah, you better run!” Paris shouts from up on the tower. “My big brother’s gonna kick your butt!”

    Hector’s friendly smile becomes considerably more pained. “I don’t suppose it’s because someone else had a prior claim, is it?”

    “Nope!” Attila interjects cheerfully. “It’s because Captain Chivalry over here just wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of us all ganging up on you!”

    “Bring as many as you want!” Paris crows from his perch, while Hector seems to quietly wish he was an only child. “My awesome big brother is completely invincible! Only Achilles could ever hope to take him down! And with me backing him up, he’s twice as invincible, so you losers are completely-“

    Menelaus snarls, and Paris screams like a little girl and hides.

    “Dammit, Dad, you already had almost a dozen of us, learn to pull out,” Hector mutters, before straightening his shoulders and setting his feet. “Let’s skip the speeches and get to my inevitable demise, shall we? I already know how this song and dance goes.”

    And just like that, the battle begins. Hector doesn’t even have the chance to move before Siegfried hits him with Balmung point-blank- and I can feel my circuits pinch from the strain. And then, while Yan finishes him off, the rest of Servants sans Menelaus and Yan flood into the camp, cutting down every zombie that gets in their way as they make a beeline for Cleopatra’s last redoubt.

    “I- I WON’T LET YOUR DEATH GO UNAVENGED BIG BROTHER!” Paris shouts, drawing back his bow. “Hey, who cut my bowstring?”

    Then-
    -Helen pushes him. Wait, that’s impossible, Helen’s too unimportant for something like that. Obviously-
    -he trips, falling end-over-end like someone pushed him from behind, and landing right in front of Menelaus.

    “You know,” Menelaus says thoughtfully as he looms over the sprawling prince of Troy. “After this I don’t think I’ll have a wish for the Grail anymore.”

    “W-Why would that be?” Paris asks, his entire body shaking as he looks up at the Spartan king.

    “Because this? Right here? Just you and me, no tricks, no Noble Phantasms, and nobody to interfere?” Menelaus is grinning wildly at this point. “This the one thing I wanted more than anything.”

    “Would it help if I said I was sorry?” Paris asks, his voice squeakier than a rusty hinge.

    “I think I might forgive you, actually.” Menelaus’ grin just widens as Paris’ face, for just the briefest moment, lights up. “With my fists.” One foot suddenly kicks up, smashing in Paris’ nose and leaving him a weepy mess. “Oh, yes, we’re going to have to do a lot of forgiving. Don’t worry though. I have plenty of time to spare.”

    I turn away from the ensuing carnage and make my way towards Cleopatra’s villa, when the whole thing suddenly erupts, an enormous pillar of eye-encrusted, blackened flesh sprouting from its ruins.

    Master, slight problem.’ Georgios sends over the mental link. ‘Cleopatra turned into a Demon Pillar.

    WHAT? How is that even possible?

    Unknown. We’re falling back to regroup and strategize.

    Soon, my Servants (and Attila and Roland) are all back with me, and we desperately try and figure out what to do, over the background noise of Menelaus clearly having the time of his life beating Paris to death with his bare hands. Paris’ bare hands, to be exact.

    “You know,” Attila finally says, after thirty minutes of arguing. “Personally, I think we should just do what Mars did back when Diomedes made him his bitch and run away.” KRACKATHOOM!

    I turn towards the blast crater, so close that I can still feel the heat. “You left your sword behind when we retreated, didn’t you?”

    “Yep.”

    “And you didn’t tell us, leaving us to debate for half an hour on how best to kill that thing for what reason exactly?”

    “I figured Menelaus would want to take his time beating Paris to death.” He has the audacity to smile as he says that.

    “I…” I sigh. “So. Singularity’s resolved, then.”

    “Yes, it most certainly is!” Attila says. Around us, the other Servants begin to dissolve.

    “So, what even was your plan?” I ask, my headache growing.

    “I wanted to make sure you’d summon me to Chaldea!”

    “I’m sorry, what?”

    “I figured that working for Chaldea might be a nice change of pace,” Attila explains cheerfully. “I mean, even if all I can do is destroy, at least I can use my prodigious talent for destruction for a good cause! So, I prolonged the Singularity in the hopes that you’d show up, and when you did turn up, I nabbed you and made sure to show off what I can do!”

    “So, you’re telling me that ever since you were summoned to this Singularity, you’ve been planning to use it as a JOB INTERVIEW?” I shriek.

    “Did it work?” he grins and- you know? Before this horrific misadventure, I would’ve probably dismissed Attila as just being an unstable barbarian warlord, probably had him offed the minute I summoned him. But… now that I’ve actually met him?

    “Yes. And I’m still not sure if I want to applaud or throttle you for it.”

    “I get that a lot.” He starts to fade. “So, you’ll summon me at Chaldea?”

    “That’s not up to me, really. It’s all the luck of the draw.”
    “So, even if I impressed you, it still wouldn’t give me better odds?” he laughs. “Well, at least I’m not the only one who missed a crucial detail.”

    “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

    “What were the terms of your agreement with Augustus?”

    “He’d pay us in food and materials for helping him, a tenth in advance, and the remainder… after the Singularity was over.”

    Oh, that cheeky motherfucker. He stiffed us! He fucking stiffed us!

    And so, still snarling profanity while Attila laughs his ass off, the Rayshift carries me away.
     
  21. Illariai

    Illariai I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    This entire Singularity was a comprehensive cluster fuck in so many ways, but damn if it wasn't worthy of popcorn and a peanut gallery.
     
  22. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    Okay, I get that Augustus is doing the whole "politician gotta politic" thing, but if Charlie and Chaldea don't have provisions and fail, Rome will have never existed you colossal fuck, and you would have never been born!

    Like holy shit is trying to stiff them that stupid.

    More importantly, if the Singularity resolving means anything missing will be fixed, that means anything taken by Chaldea will be back as if never taken. So don't be fucking stingy, you dipshit!

    Fuck do I hate people trying to bargain during the end of the world.
     
  23. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    They still got three weeks worth of provisions from him up front, so they didn't out of that whole mess completely empty-handed.
     
  24. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    Doesn't change that screwing them over, means it's game over for everyone, everywhere, in everytime forever.
     
  25. Delta Green

    Delta Green Know what you're doing yet?

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    Bit short-sighted at first, yes.

    Unless Augustus figured that he'd best teach Flynn the lessons of "READ THE DAMN CONTRACT." and "Be honest in your dealings." so he'd be better prepared for the future.

    I figure that if Flynn had been honest about how necessary they were(n't), Augustus might not have stiffed him.
     
  26. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    So Charlies indignation at Augustus probably got rid of any feelings of shame he may have had for dissapointing him.

    Was what Helen doing some kind of Noble Phantasm, or was Charlie just that dismissive without needing magical help?

    I thought that if she had a Noble Phantasm that it would be like Mata Haris, in that it enthralls people, but in her case it makes them fight for her.
     
    Last edited: Jul 18, 2020
  27. caprica12

    caprica12 Getting out there.

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    The only person who won in this one was Augustus, and he is going to fucking disappear once the Singularity is over. Damm.

    Also, I am all here for plot points happening out of Charles' sight. This is the fourth Demon Pillar he hasn't seen, bc he was too busy with Greek Drama(tm). In his defense, Greek Drama is great. Maybe Goetia can grab him by the neck and summon a Demon Pillar specifically for him to get a view and be like 'NOW YOU SEE THEM, YOU DUMBASS'.


    Goetia: I see human existence and see only death.
    Medea: *up to her eyeballs with baby-shower preparations, knitting baby clothes and baby-proofing every corner of Chaldea* AND I SEE LIFE, YOU CORPSE-STEALING SQUID!
     
  28. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Ooohh, new potential Noble Phantasm.

    Motherly Love: Rage of a Parent.

    Ohh, if only this was possible.
     
  29. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Her form of Presence Concealment works differently from most other Assassins. Instead of erasing her presence from the world, it makes them view her as being beneath notice. It reflects how she used the Trojans' dismissal of her as a threat to sabotage them from the inside. Something that the histories forgot.
     
  30. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    An Assassin huh?

    Honestly given the whole enchanting beauty thing I thought she'd be more like a Caster.

    Still interesting to know.
     
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