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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. HelloThereItsMeGeralt

    HelloThereItsMeGeralt Know what you're doing yet?

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    So, will we see necromantic Flynn in sequel?

    Oh poo, no Grand Avenger.

    Silver W. King, when will Chaldea on fire update? Or is it abandoned, please clarify if it is, so I can stop hoping for it to come back and stop re-reading it.
     
  2. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    On one hand knowing that his body is going to be in constant agony is sad.

    On the other hand I'm imagining several funny scenes of it falling apart in some awkward situations.

    Like this:

     
  3. Narmish

    Narmish I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    If Flynn had taken the deal, what would his Lostbelt have been?
     
  4. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    I can't believe the fucking notification system didn't tell me that the epilogue was up. :mad:

    Thanks for one hell of an original and engaging story, and I will most definitely follow the sequel when it's up, as your stories are really captivating to see and how the events in it will play out.

    Your writing was one of the things that cheered me up, whenever a new chapter came up. :D

    Thank you.

    See it at Christmas.

    Probably. Maybe. I sure hope so.
     
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2020
  5. HelloThereItsMeGeralt

    HelloThereItsMeGeralt Know what you're doing yet?

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    May you suffer from org**m blocks till you update it.
     
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  6. Charles Flynn

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

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    A question: I was thinking of posting a few sidestories, called the Lost Files, detailing some of the microsingularities that I glossed over, starting with the one featuring Attila and Duryodhana. Just to keep myself in practice between projects. But I wouldn't want to beat a dead horse, here.

    Is anyone interested? If so, then I'll put the first one up.
     
  7. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    We get to see Duryodhana and Attila, along with whatever insanity they bring?

    Please do it, we need it more than life itself.

    Can you also post a side story of Charlie dealing with Vlads Santa phase?
     
  8. Extras: Lost Files: The Copenhagen Grail War Part 1
    Charles Flynn

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

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    We materialize in an alleyway, the city’s racket immediately enveloping us.

    I activate my communicator. “Roman? Still in contact?”

    His hologram flickers into being in front of me. “Yes. You’re coming through loud and clear. Any indication of what’s causing the Singularity?”

    “None so far.”

    This might be the weirdest Singularity we’ve faced yet. I mean, of all the potential points to create a disruption in the Human Order, why would you pick Copenhagen in 1995? But still, a Grail’s a Grail. I turn to my team. Siegfried, Erik (because we needed someone familiar with the general region), Medea, and Cursed Arm. Since half the mana engines are down for repairs at the moment, I can only bring four Servants, and I had to make sure that they wouldn’t be total prana hogs.

    Cursed Arm, scout ahead. Medea, start scanning the leylines, see if there’s somewhere we can set up shop. Erik, Siegfried, you’re with me.

    They all nod in agreement. With the enemy unknown, the best thing to do at the moment is lay low, keep our heads down, and try to get the shape of things.

    “This is the alley, right?” a man’s voice asks, as two sets of footsteps make their way towards us.

    “If I have read the runes right, yes,” a woman says.

    Okay, plan A looks to be shot. Those are clearly Servants. Time for plan B.

    Cursed Arm, get me up to the roof level right now! Medea, disguise yourself as me!

    They comply without hesitation, and soon, I watch from two stories up as the mysterious Servants come face to face with “me,” flanked by Erik and Siegfried.

    I don’t recognize either of them. The man is rough, with short gray hair, and features that would make him a prettyboy heartbreaker if it wasn’t for the scars. He dresses like a biker, and keeps his posture hunched over, constantly glancing around for some sort of threat. The woman is tall, elegant and graceful, with long, silver hair that has a blue tinge to it. She’s less aggressive and wary than her companion, but she still carries herself with the quiet confidence that I’ve come to associate with Heroic Spirits.

    Alright, going over various stratagems with my Servants to ensure that I don’t get instantly pulped the second Galahad isn’t there to protect me has really paid off.

    “So. You the Master of Chaldea?” the unknown man asks bluntly as he looks at Medea. “Scrawnier than I expected, that’s for sure.”

    “Well, that depends on who’s asking,” Medea says smoothly, and I can tell from experience that she’s casting a concealed lie-detection spell as she talks.

    “I’m Sinfjotli, son of Sigmund and Signy, and grandson of the great King Volsung!” Sinfjotli announces proudly, not even hesitating to shout his True Name for all to hear. “The legendary hero of the Saga of the Volsungs, and greatest of all the Volsungs!” His female companion gives him an amused look. “Don’t you dare confuse me for my disappointment of a brother!”

    I feed Medea a line and get the mental impression of a raised eyebrow in turn. She still asks, though. “Helgi or Sigurd?”

    “Both!”

    I try not to laugh.

    “Right,” Medea says, evidently deciding to just roll with it. She turns towards the woman. “And you are?”

    “I am Brynnhildr. A Valkyrie formerly in service to Odin,” she says primly, evidently not wishing to share any more.

    “She’s my sister-in-law,” Sinfjotli adds. “So, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, come on! Our team is waiting back at the bar!”

    “Well, are you friend or foe?” Medea asks. “I really think we should clear that up before I go anywhere with you.”

    “Friend, obviously!” Sinfjotli says with a huff. “Now come on, move your ass! We’ve been waiting for you guys to show up for almost a week!”

    Medea, are they telling the truth?

    Yes.

    “So, just to clarify, you mean us no harm, and wish to be our allies, yes?”

    “I just said that! Yes!” Sinfjotli rolls his eyes.

    If that’s all true, then we might as well follow them,’ I admit.

    I don’t like this, Apprentice.

    Me neither. It feels too convenient. But, well, we do need information. And from what I’ve read of the Saga of the Volsungs, Sinfjotli’s volatile. Refusing would alienate him.’ I turn my focus to another Servant. ‘Cursed Arm, take me back down.

    Both Norse heroes jump as Cursed Arm and I land, but they’ve recovered their cool by the time I get out of the princess carry and turn to face them.

    “Very well then, Son of Sigmund. We’ll accept your offer of hospitality. Lead the way.”

    “So you were- the whole time-“ Sinfjotli looks between me, Medea, and the roof in shock. “Then…”

    Brynnhildr tugs on his ear. “Brother, you’re being rude.”

    “Yeah, yeah.” He sighs. “This way.”

    The two of them lead us through the streets, and, as we’re walking, Siegfried makes his way up towards Sinfjotli.

    “So, uh, Sinfjotli.”

    “Yeah?” Sinfjotli asks, raising an eyebrow.

    “I’m Siegfried. You probably haven’t heard of me-“

    “You’re my glory-hogging little brother’s German knockoff. Get to the point.”

    “Oh. I’m sorry, then. I wouldn’t want to waste your time…”

    “Too late.”

    “Oh.” He falls silent.

    Sinfjotli raises an eyebrow. “You gonna say anything else?”

    “Well, I didn’t want to waste your time. If me talking is a bother, then…”

    “No, it’s fine. Just cut to the point.”

    “Well, I was wondering if you could tell me about your father,” Siegfried says.

    “Why?”

    “Well, Sigurd and I have a lot in common, and we both never got to meet our fathers. I just thought that, since we’re so much alike, our fathers might be the same. Maybe I could get to know what kind of man my father was by asking about yours.”

    Sinfjotli raises an eyebrow. “Alright, then.”

    “Really?”

    “Sure. If your dad’s anything like mine, then he deserves a son who knows how awesome he was,” Sinfjotli says with a grin. “But I’m only telling you once, so you’d damn better listen well, alright Fake Sigurd?”

    “Of course. Thank you.” Siegfried frowns. “Wait, Fake Sigurd?”

    “Yeah, yeah, do something cool enough, and I’ll remember your name, all right?”

    “I killed a dragon.”

    “Yeah, like that means anything,” Sinfjotli snorts. “Even Sigurd killed a dragon! I’d’ve killed five dragons, if my bitch of a stepmom hadn’t poisoned me. And I would’ve done it like a real man, instead of just pussing out and stabbing it in the belly!”

    “Of course,” Siegfried says neutrally, keeping his face impassive. “So, I’m sorry to interrupt, but…”

    “Yeah, yeah. So, I didn’t actually know that my dad was my dad when I first met him. I just thought he was my uncle.” Sinfjotli pauses. “I mean, he actually is my uncle, and he didn’t know that he was my dad either, but…”

    The story is still going when we reach the bar, where I’m the first one at the door, having been drawn to the front of the procession by my fascination with the story.

    "So, Sinfjotli, Brynnhildr, the rest of your team is inside?"

    My guides both nod, so I open the door to the bar.

    And then immediately close it.

    Nope.

    "Flynn? Is that you?" Attila shouts from inside. "Come, join us!"

    "Yes!" Duryodhana bellows. "We need someone to judge our arm-wrestling competition!"

    Nope.
     
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  9. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Ah, Norse family drama.

    It's not on the same level as the Greek ones, but it has its own great moments.

    Yes!
     
  10. EVA-Saiyajin

    EVA-Saiyajin Connoisseur.

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    Aww, Siegfried made a maybe-friend.
     
  11. Hammers_Bjorn

    Hammers_Bjorn The Bear with the Hammer

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    Rest ye weary head, me lad, and greet death like an old friend.

    ... Huh. This might well be the first finished non-one shot fic I've read in QQ, and an FGO one at that! Congrats! It was a thrilling ride all the way, although it would've been nice to see the fallout of Flynn's death.
     
  12. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    We'll most likely see the fallout in the sequel.

    Or the author can post a side story for it.
     
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  13. Me. Joka-r

    Me. Joka-r Professional Procrastinator

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    Dio situation honestly , cause I expected a lot of things when they went to the site like an ambush but Attila and Duryodhana wrestling was not one of them, buff bois( also killers of massive amount of people, if myth are real in Duryodhana's case but who cares about that).
     
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  14. HelloThereItsMeGeralt

    HelloThereItsMeGeralt Know what you're doing yet?

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    I am not aware much about Attila, but Duryodhana was an "Ardent worshipper?" of wrestling. He and Bheema (Elder Brother of Arjun) were competitors of the sport, along with fighting with Mace.

    And Duryodhana being a somewhat meathead was an important character of his myth anyways.

    And Charles Flynn do not dare to hold back. With at least one more year till the completion of Lostbelts in JP [two years in NA?] we need content.

    Silver W. King learn something. This guy is posting non-stop at the very least you can reply like "Remember when you tried to sleep with both at once?"
     
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  15. Extras: Lost Files: The Copenhagen Grail War Part 2
    Charles Flynn

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

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    “Duryodhana and Attila are the other members of your faction?” I ask Brynnhildr incredulously.

    “Well, yes. They’re actually why we were waiting for you,” Brynnhildr says. “They thought that you would help us when you showed up. According to Duryodhana, you owe him a favor.”

    “Yeah, that’s-“ I stop and think about it. I mean, if Duryodhana hadn’t sabotaged and betrayed Edison, then I likely would’ve died. Especially since, if he hadn’t tipped off Nero, Edison’s doomsday device would’ve worked, leading to the destruction of human history. He saved the world, and my life. I sigh. “-true. All right. What’s he cashing in this favor of his for?”

    “Somebody organized a Grail War,” she says. “Multiple Servants, albeit with an unequal distribution of classes, each without a Master, all summoned to fight for the Holy Grail.”

    “I’m familiar with the concept.”

    “We don’t know who’s behind it. But Attila and Duryodhana both figured that, in light of the larger crisis, we Servants should band together, so that we could help Chaldea secure the Grail when you arrived.”

    That- Huh.

    “Well, what other Servants are out there?”

    “We were the only ones that they found.”

    I sigh, and then turn about, open the door, and step into the bar. “All right, I’m in.”

    “Splendid!” Attila cheers through gritted teeth, arm-wrestling Duryodhana with a fearful intensity. “Take a seat!”

    I comply, taking a bar stool, and the Servants follow me in. Erik, Sinfjotli, and Siegfried take a booth, and Brynhilldr joins them. Hassan is presumably using Presence Concealment, because I can’t see him anywhere, and Medea takes the stool next to me.

    Are you sure this is a good idea, Apprentice?

    They proved themselves to be quite thoroughly on our side in previous Singularities, and I presume that you’ve been running truth spells.

    Those can be falsified, if you know what you’re doing.

    I hear a loud crash, and the sound of splintering wood, and I turn to see Attila and Duryodhana both looking at the splinters of their table in disappointment.

    “Another draw, then?” Duryodhana asks with a grin.

    “Of course.” Attila turns to me. “Flynn! Come on over here, you!”

    “King Attila. King Duryodhana.” I nod politely to both. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” I look around the almost-empty bar. “May I ask what happened to this place’s clientele?”

    “Oh, Brynnhildr warded the place to keep unwanted visitors out,” Attila says with an airy wave. “Anyways, welcome aboard!”

    I look between the two of them. “So, do you have any idea what’s going on with this specific Grail War? Because…” I’m cut off by a yawn.

    “Brynnhildr didn’t really give you a clear picture of what’s going on?” Duryodhana finishes for me. “Don’t worry. We’re as confused as you are. We were just summoned in without any information on this particular Grail War’s rules.” He blinks.

    “So, I guess our…” I yawn again. “…first priority is to…”

    The world goes fuzzy, and then I’m slumped over.

    ---​

    I wake up with a start. Sonnuvabitch, we got wiped! I look around desperately, trying to figure out where the hell I am right now.

    “Sweet! You’re finally awake!” a weirdly familiar voice says. “Now we can finally get this party started!”

    Alright, I’m tied to a chair, in a completely dark room. Things are looking somewhat bleak.

    Then the lights go on, and things get weird.

    The room, now revealed to me by the lights, is an abomination against interior décor. The floor tiles alternate between a deep purple and a bright orange, and the wallpaper has neon pink polka dots on green background. But perhaps the most noticeable feature of the room is who’s standing at the center of it.

    Tom Hiddleston?

    Yeah, no, if things are getting this weird to start with, then the 1959 Kennedy Assassination Attempt might lose its status as “Weirdest Singularity Ever.”

    “Oh!” My captor grins. “You know my host?”

    Host. That would indicate…

    “You’re a Pseudo-Servant, aren’t you?”

    “The one and only Loki, at your service,” the newly identified god of mischief says. “Now pipe down, the camera’s going to start rolling in a minute or two.”

    “But… aren’t Pseudo-Servants formed from people involved with Grail Wars?”

    He just grins and keeps looking at the camera we’re both facing.

    "Hel-lo Denmark! This is your lovable host, Loki, welcoming you back to everybody’s favorite game show, Grail Wars! Now, let me introduce my co-host and hostage, Charles Flynn! Everybody give him a big round of applause!”

    There’s a moment of silence, and then he taps a button or two, and canned applause plays from the room’s speakers.

    “Chuck, any words for the audience?”

    Please don’t call me that.”

    “Sure thing, Chad m’lad! Now, then, lets meet our contestants!” With a wave of his hand, profiles of my Servants pop up.

    “That’s… that might actually be worse!”

    “Now, for you newcomers to the show, here’s how this is going to work: We’ll be splitting each team into two groups of four, and then pitting those groups against each other, to fight to the death until there are exactly four survivors! Those two groups of four survivors will then continue to fight, until only one remains, and they will have the chance to fight me for the Holy Grail! Any questions?”

    Several, actually!”

    “Don’t care! Group A includes Brynnhildr, Attilla, Medea, and Hassan-i-Sabbah of the Cursed Arm! Get out there and kill things for our amusement!”

    “So, who’s on the enemy team?” I ask, as Loki slouches down into a beanbag chair.

    “You’ll find out.” Mist pours out from a soda can on the floor, creating some sort of holographic image of the four Servant he designated as Group A.

    I… am so goddamn confused right now.

    “Anyways, you and me? We’re the announcers and the judges.”

    ` “Of what? How is this a show? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!

    “Ratings.”

    I stare at Loki. He just smirks back at me.

    And then I scream in pure frustration while he laughs his ass off.

    WHY DID I EVER TAKE THIS DAMN JOB?
     
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  16. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    I have very little idea of what's happening and I love it.

    Keep it up.
     
  17. Hammers_Bjorn

    Hammers_Bjorn The Bear with the Hammer

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    When in doubt, remember that Loki suffered for who knows how long, tied down by the transfigured entrails of his son, continously dropped snake venom, after the whole Baldr thing. Also, remember that for all of his pomp amd pagentry, in the end, at Ragnarok, Loki died knowing that his revenge meant jack shit, everything is just going to spin around in an endless cycle of death-and-rebirth, and that Heimdall got the last word in.

    Remember, that all your frustrations and suffering is nothing for the sheer amount of salt Loki is going to feel at the Twilight of the Gods.
     
  18. Extras: The Lost Files: The Copenhagen Grail War Part 3
    Charles Flynn

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

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    All right, all right. Time to review the facts.

    Fact #1: I’ve been kidnapped by Loki, the Norse God of Mischief and Lies, who is currently possessing Tom Hiddleston in order to function as a Pseudo-Servant.

    Fact #2: Loki has the Holy Grail.

    Fact #3: Loki is using the Holy Grail and my status as a hostage in order to set up some sort of… Grail War game show?

    I watch the screens Loki’s set up as Cursed Arm fades away from view, leaving only Attila, Brynhilldr and Medea visible.

    “So… just to be clear, the enemy team will show up soon, right?” I ask.

    Loki nods. “Yep, I’m actually proud of the team composition this time. I really think I nailed it.”

    “Okay, but why are you doing this?

    “Quiet. Drama is happening.” He waves a hand and suddenly, I can hear the voices of the arguing Heroic Spirits.

    ---​

    “And I keep telling you that we need to advance on the enemy position!” Attila snaps, looming over Medea.

    “Oh, the stupid barbarian wants to charge HEADFIRST into ENEMY TERRITORY!” my teacher shouts, sounding angrier than I’ve ever heard her. “Why would I expect anything else!”

    “Strong forward momentum coupled with an overwhelming advantage is a valid strategy,” Attila says, struggling to regain his cool. “If we hit them early enough, before they have time to pull together defenses, or a proper strategy, we can take them off guard.”

    “Or run headfirst into their defenses!” Medea replies. “Of course, I’m not surprised that you don’t know jack about defending fixed positions, seeing as, if you had any skill whatsoever in that field, you wouldn’t have gotten my apprentice kidnapped!”

    “Okay, this has gone on long enough,” Brynnhildr interrupts, trying to get between the two quarrelling Heroic Spirits. “Can we please just all calm down and focus on the matter at hand?”

    “Oh, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t predict that the literal God of Trickery and Deception showing up out of nowhere to pull a fast one on us!” Attila says, crossing his arms. “And I didn’t see you doing any better.”

    “Not that it’s even the first time you’ve gotten my apprentice kidnapped.” Medea glares at the barbarian warlord. “I told him we shouldn’t have trusted you.”

    “Are you calling me a traitor?” Attila asks, dangerously calm.

    “If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and stabs you in the back like a godsbedamned traitor, then it’s probably a traitor,” Medea replies, spell arrays already springing up behind her, as Attila grips his sword.

    “Mind your words, Witch of Betrayal. I’m not afraid to hit a woman.”

    “Okay, ENOUGH!” Brynnhildr shouts, driving her spear into the ground between them. “WE ARE NOT EACH OTHER’S ENEMIES! LOKI IS OUR ENEMY! AND WE NEED TO FIGHT HIM, NOT EACH OTHER!”

    Medea and Attila look at each other for a moment, and then reluctantly put their weapons away. And then they walk off in opposite directions, leaving Brynnhildr flabbergasted.

    “W-Wait, where are you guys going?” she asks, looking between the two.

    “Away from her!” Attila bellows, at the exact same time that Medea shouts, “Away from him!

    And Brynnhildr is left alone.

    ---​

    Back in the observation room, I look at the screens in disbelief. “They just… what? I mean, WHY IN GOD’S NAME DID THEY SPLIT UP?”

    “It’s simple, really,” Loki says, smiling merrily. “Heroic Spirits are volatile. A competent leader, or a pressing enough cause for cooperation, can unite them, but the more you pack in. the bigger the destructive fallout when their unifying force is gone.”

    “They split the party,” I observe, staring at the screens as I come to terms with the fact that I am probably a dead man.

    “Well, they still have a chance, actually,” Loki notes. “Their opposition did the exact same thing.”

    “What? Why?” The tactical ineptitude on display here hurts my soul.

    “They all wanted a one-on-one fight against their arch-nemeses.”

    “Arch-?”

    “Just sit back and watch.” Loki brings an imaginary microphone to his lips, and then starts talking in his best announcer’s voice. “And it looks like we’re going to see our first fight of the day, folks! The clash of two bitter ex-lovers, a startling showcase of how the deepest of loving bonds can go wrong, it’s JASON VERSUS MEDEA!”

    ---​

    The screens all shift to display my teacher, already setting up her Territory.

    Medea freezes mid spell, and then turns to face one of the buildings. Then she fires a full power laser at the façade, forcing Jason to come rolling out into the open, swearing up a storm.

    “Did you really think that you could hide from me?” she asks, her voice smooth and menacing. “Did you really think that you could beat me with stealth?”

    “Guess I’ll just have to beat you the old-fashioned way, then,” Jason says, drawing his sword. “Then, once I win the Holy Grail, I’m going to wish that I’d left your crazy ass in Colchis.”

    Medea bristles, her air of menace lost.

    “Oh, I’m the crazy one, am I?” she snaps, voice considerably less smooth. “I’m the crazy one. Typical. The moment I can’t give you anything that you want, well, of course I’m suddenly some crazy bitch who’s just too. Damn. Clingy! Of course I’ve got to go! Look at Medea, trusting that her husband would keep his word! THAT CRAZY BITCH HAS GOT TO GO!”

    “You killed our kids and my new wife because you couldn’t handle the divorce,” Jason shoots back, gesturing with his sword. “BY DEFINITION, YOU ARE THE CRAZY ONE HERE!”

    “I punished you for your faithlessness!” Medea says with a snarl. “I gave you everything! I killed My brother for you! I helped you get the Fleece! I killed your uncle Pelias for you!”

    “And I never asked you to kill your brother! Or Uncle Pelias! I never wanted you to butt in! You got me banished from my hometown after I went through a quest across the entirety of the known world so that I could be King there!” Jason crosses his arms. “And I don’t seem to remember my wife or my children doing anything to merit punishment. Of course, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they were just the most faithless people ever.”

    “They deserved to die for aiding in your crimes!” Medea snaps.

    “Do you even remember my wife’s name?” Jason asks. “Because I don’t think you do. You don’t care about other people’s lives, Medea. You just see them as tools. The only value you place on human life is whether ending it will get you what you want! And the minute you wanted to hurt me, YOU KILLED YOUR OWN CHILDREN!”

    “Oh, I’m manipulative, am I?” Medea replies. “You promised me the world, and then you tossed me out the second you couldn’t use me!”

    “I NEVER WANTED TO MARRY YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

    ---​

    I turn to Loki. “Should we be listening in on this? It feels uncomfortably domestic.”

    “Yeah. I really thought that this would be more… epic. But instead it’s just so damn awkward to watch.” The screens turn away from Medea and Jason’s uncomfortably public argument,

    “So… You made the enemy team entirely out of my faction’s arch-enemies?”

    “Pretty much, yeah. Really hoping that the matches don’t just develop into screaming at each other, though.” He perks up. “And here we have our second fight!”

    I look, as the screens shift to instead display Brynnhildr and Attila. And a cheerful-looking blonde woman skipping towards them.

    ---​

    “Look, I’m sure that I can talk her into apologizing,” Brynnhildr says. “We need to stick together, otherwise, we’ll just get picked off one by one if they form a coordinated attack party.”

    “We didn’t, actually!” the blonde woman says, her voice at once both melodic and irrepressibly cheerful. Her hair is done up into two golden braids. She’s full-figured, looking like one of Wagner’s Valkyries, and wears a green dress. Her smile is… The more I look at it, the more it seems… off. “We all wanted to take you on properly, as individuals!”

    Both Attila and Brynnhildr freeze at the sight of her. Brynnhildr’s hands are shaking, while Attila’s face is pale.

    “Oh, is that you, Atli?” the woman asks, her smile growing. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again! I’ve really improved the recipe for those delightful little snacks I served at our last party together!” Attila’s entire body is trembling. “But I need a taste-tester, and I found myself thinking, ‘Who better than my darling husband?’”

    Attila turns, and then runs away like all the hordes of Hell are chasing him.

    “Aww… I really have improved my cooking since last time,” the woman says, and… oh. Oh, of course it’s her. That makes sense. “But I guess that means that we can finally catch up, Bryn! Just us girls, you know?”

    “Gudrun,” Brynnhildr snarls, every inch of her body trembling with barely constrained hatred. “You’re here.”

    “Of course I am, silly!” Gudrun of the Gjukungs says, her arms and armor de-astralizing. She’s still smiling. “I mean, how could I pass up the chance to kill the woman who murdered my husband?”

    “SIGURD WAS MINE!” Brynhilldr roars, lunging forwards with her spear in hand, only for Gudrun to deflect it with her shield. “BEFORE YOU STOLE HIM FROM ME!”

    “I didn’t have a choice!” Gudrun shouts back, as the dance of steel begins in earnest between the two loves of the Last Volsung. “My mother was the one who slipped him the forgetfulness potion! And frankly, he deserved better than you anyways!”

    Brynhildr gives a wordless scream of fury, as she brings her spear down like a club, smoldering with fire runes. Gudrun dodges easily, rage clouding her opponent’s mind and dulling Brynhildr’s skill.

    “YOU STOLE HIM FROM ME!”

    “And you killed him!” Gudrun shouts back, her hateful tone a stark contrast to the wide, sunny smile on her face. “You killed him with trickery and lies, and you were always trying to kill him, EVEN WHEN HE WAS YOURS! Why would I let you have him? I loved him! Why would I let you keep him, knowing that you would never stop hurting him!”

    “YOU MADE ME KILL HIM!”

    “No, you didn’t even kill him yourself! You poisoned my brothers against him, against me! You had Guttorm kill him in the night, while he was sleeping, and then you talked them into burning my son alive with you as part of my husband’s FUNERAL PYRE! YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME, AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN LET ME GRIEVE FOR HIM!” Gudrun’s still smiling, even as she pushes Brynhildr back, but it’s shed the illusion of cheerfulness, becoming instead a mad rictus of hatred. “I WATCHED HIM DIE! I WOKE UP TO HOLD MY HUSBAND IN MY ARMS AS HE DIED, IN OUR BED, WITH MY LITTLE BROTHER’S BIFURCATED CORPSE NOT FIVE FEET AWAY, AND THEN I HAD TO SIT AND WATCH AS YOU HIJACKED MY HUSBAND’S FUNERAL TO MAKE IT ALL ABOUT YOU, AND YOUR ELABORATE MURDER-SUICIDE!

    “You…” Brynnhildr falters as she stares at Gudrun, and Gudrun doesn’t fail to capitalize on the opening.

    “So here’s what’s going to happen,” Gudrun snarls. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill Atli. And then I’m going to kill anyone else I have to to make sure I get the Grail. And then I’m going to make it so that I died that night, instead of Sigurd.”

    Brynnhildr freezes. “Why would you…”

    Gudrun’s sword takes the fallen valkyrie’s head clean off in one smooth stroke.

    “Because it should have been me. And because he deserves a better woman than either of us.”

    ---​

    Loki looks at me, and I look back.

    “That was… intense.” I hazard.

    “You’re telling me,” the God of Mischief says with a rueful laugh. “But still, first death, and it’s a dramatic one! The ratings must be climbing!”

    Right, not rising to the bait. I look back at the screens, where it shows Gudrun catching her breath and then strolling off, as Brynhildr’s headless corpse dissolves behind her.

    “Oh, and Attila’s met his enemy!” Loki crows, as the screens flip over to display…

    “You turned Romulus into an Alter?” I ask incredulously.

    “Yeah… Attila was a hard man to find a nemesis for.”

    On the screens, the two enemies face off.

    ---​

    “My children… my people…” the Blackened Romulus moans. “Oh, my Roma has fallen.”

    “Hm. You know, the version of you I met before wasn’t nearly this emo,” Attila says, dancing between his opponent’s spear-thrusts.

    “I must save them!” Romulus Alter bellows. “With the Grail in hand, I will save them!”

    Attila smirks. “You won’t. After all, you’re the one who doomed them.”

    Romulus Alter shrieks in fury, and then raises his spear high to unleash his Noble Phantasm, only for Attila to slice open his unguarded belly.

    The fight is brief, and brutal, and through it all, Attila keeps up a running commentary.

    “You killed your brother, Romulus. Did you really think that wouldn’t have consequences? You laid Rome’s foundations with unclean hands, tainted them with your brother’s blood, did you really think the gods wouldn’t punish you?”

    “SHUT UP!” Romulus Alter roars, trying to get clear or land a hit somehow, but Attila doesn’t let him retake the tempo. The King of the Huns fights mechanically, his every move calculated and perfected to dismantle his enemy, even as he keeps talking.

    “Rome was cursed, built on a foundation of fratricide. It was only a matter of time, really, until your house came crumbling down.”

    “YOU WILL-“

    Romulus Alter is, unfortunately, interrupted by Attila, in three smooth strokes of his sword, cutting off both his arms, and his head.

    “Now, that was just disappointing.”

    ---​

    I give Loki a look. “He’s not wrong.”

    “Look, get off my back, man! I told you, finding a nemesis for Attila was hard!”

    “So, how’s Jason v. Medea going?”

    He sighs, and the screens show the two, still bickering.

    “So is Cursed Arm-“

    Then… the unexpected happens.

    ---​

    “I can’t believe you! You were always like this!” Jason shouts. “Always nagging, always demanding that everything fits your picture-perfect fairy tale fantasies! Well, I’m sorry, princess, but in the real world…”

    He’s cut off by the Sword of Mars embedding itself in his sternum.

    “Witch! I’m just assuming he was one of our enemies. I need you to point me in the direction of his compatriots, and-“

    “I had him,” Medea snarls. “And I’m not going to just act as your logistical support the second you demand it, you treacherous brute! Now go and get yourself killed, and make the world a brighter…” she stares down at the sword embedded in her chest. “…place?”

    “I told you not to call me that,” Attila says calmly, as he pulls back his blade and decapitates her. “And, by the way? I was being polite before, but now I’m just going to come out and say it. You and your ex-husband are both terrible people and you deserve each other, if only to keep you from making the rest of us miserable.”

    ---​

    I stare at the screen in horror as my teacher dissolves.

    And then I say the only thing that comes to mind. “ATTILA, YOU TEAMKILLING-“
     
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2020
  19. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    You never do that.

    I'll let this song explain this.



    Was this inspired by the argument between Rin and EMIYA in UBW Abridged?

    Harsh, but fair and true.

    I think these Servants would do well on Jerry Springer.
     
  20. Riptide

    Riptide Getting sticky.

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    Attila is based AF.
     
  21. wryyyyy

    wryyyyy nautilus

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    well,:( everyone has a little arthur in their hearts isnt it
     
  22. Extras: Lost Files: The Copenhagen Grail War Part 4
    Charles Flynn

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

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    Loki grins, as my teacher fades away. “Well, Round One is over! The four survivors of the round will be moving on to round three.”

    Son of a bitch, I’m going to have to resummon her again. She’s always incredibly pissy when she dies.

    “Question.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Why are you operating by tournament rounds?” I turn to look at him.

    “Wow, not pissed about your mentor’s death?” Loki asks. “That’s cold. And I should know, I’m a frost giant!” He slaps his knee as a laugh track starts playing.

    “Eh.” I shrug. “I mean, pretty much all of my Servants have been dead for centuries. After a while, you just get jaded enough that them dying isn’t a tragedy so much as a temporary inconvenience.”

    Loki raises an eyebrow. “Huh. Well, to answer your question, the King of Mages offered me a Grail and a chance to screw everybody over as vengeance for my treatment at the hands of the Aesir.”

    “And this is the most efficient way to go about it?” I raise an eyebrow right back at him.

    “Do you really want to know?” he asks, further raising his eyebrow.

    “Yes.” I raise my eyebrow even further, just for the hell of it.

    Loki pouts. “My sardonic eyebrow-raise was bigger.”

    “Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

    “Oh, you want to play it like that? Fine then, no exposition for you.”

    “Oh, come on- Ugh. Fine. Your eyebrow raise was better than mine.”

    Loki does a victory dance, before sitting back down. “Alright, alright. So, Solomon gave me a Grail, told me to wait here and ambush you, and in doing so, I would screw you over. But I thought to myself, ‘Hey, Loki you handsome devil. What if, instead of following our boss’s orders, we screwed him over too?’ Well I thought that was a splendid idea, so I set up this tournament, and now humanity’s getting screwed over, Chaldea’s getting screwed over, AND SOLOMON’S GETTING SCREWED OVER! EVERYBODY’S GETTING SCREWED! WHILE I WATCH!”

    Right, I’m not even dignifying that with a response. “So, new round. That’d be Siegfried, Duryodhana, Erik, and Sinfjotli.”

    “Indeed it would be!” Loki says.

    “So, I’m guessing that the enemy team is composed of Bhima, Egil Skallagrimson, Hagen, and… hm. Perhaps the Valkyrie Gudmund? Sinfjotli didn’t have a lot of stories that focused on him as anything other than Sigmund’s sidekick.”

    “Three out of four,” Loki says with a nod. “Not bad.” He then turns to his microphone. “All right, now! Round two begins! Get on out there and try not to die too anticlimactically!”

    I sigh, and then focus my attention onto the screens.

    ---​

    “Alright people,” Duryodhana says, looking between the other three members of his team. “We stick together, and use the buddy system. I’m with Sinfjotli, and Siegfried, you’re with Erik. We’ll need a signal, to tell the other team if we need help.”

    “Howl three times like wolves?” Sinfjotli suggests. “My father and I used that one whenever we split up on a raid.”

    “That works for me,” Siegfried says.

    “Right. Howl three times like wolves if you get in over your head.” And with that pronouncement from Duryodhana, the two teams split up.

    ---​

    “Huh.” They… didn’t immediately fracture?

    “It would seem that while Attila is the better strategist, Duryodhana is the better leader,” Loki notes.

    “The natural difference between one who leads by fear and one who leads through a mixture of position and persuasion, I suppose.” Duryodhana may have been a tyrant, but he inspired loyalty. Attila inspired fear. I suppose that it makes sense that the King of the Kauravas would be more well-suited to leading Heroic Spirits.

    There’s a ten minute stretch of silence, as Loki and I watch the two teams make their way through the city, each looking for a fight.

    Siegfried and Erik find one first.

    ---​

    Erik rounds the corner, and there he is. Pale, almost grey skin. Dark, messy hair. Corded muscles, and a blocky, ugly face.

    EGIL,” Erik growls, his eyes flaring red with madness.

    ERIK,” the Son of Skallagrim growls right back, his axe and sword in hand.

    “I… take it you know each other?” Siegfried says questioningly, as the two old enemies glare at each other, readying their weapons as they slowly advance towards each other.

    “You know, I may have forgiven you when you gave me that poem,” Erik says, as the two Vikings slowly circle one another. “But I always wondered who would win in a fight between us.”

    “And I haven’t forgiven you for Thorolf,” Egil says, tightening his grip on his weapons. “Not one bit.”

    “I feel like I’m missing some context here,” Siegfried observes.

    Then, as one, Erik and Egil roar like lions and lunge at each other, reason letting slip the reins as mad fury rose triumphant, axe and sword and axe and sword clashing again and again in a furious dance for supremacy. First Erik swings his bloodstained axe, only to blocked by sword and axe in unison, before Egil breaks the block and steps out of the blade’s arc, lunging in from the side.

    “Okay, um… is this a personal thing? Because if you want, I can back you up,” Siegfried says.

    The axe handle drives into Egil’s side, disrupting his strike at Erik’s flank and forcing him to take a step back, and bring his axe and sword up to block as Erik capitalizes on the opening.

    “I’ll just… stand here, then.” Siegfried looks around, whistling awkwardly.

    The two Vikings glare at each other over their locked weapons. And then Egil headbutts Erik, and sets him stumbling back, before lunging in and scoring a cut across Erik’s chest. Then the Bloodaxe King raises his guard once again, and looks to be on the verge of a counterstrike, so Egil skips back out of axe-range, and the two begin circling each other once again.

    “First blood to me,” Egil says.

    “First blood doesn’t mean shit,” Erik growls, his axe pulsing in agreement. “Only last blood matters.”

    “You can do it, Erik!” Siegfried calls.

    “Oh, fuck off.”

    “Look, there’s not much else for me to do at the moment. Excuse me for trying to be supportive.”

    “Find your own opponent, then!” Erik calls, as he and Egil circle each other.

    “Erik, there’s no one else in sigh-AGH!” And with that, Siegfried falls forward, a spear driven into his back.

    “Sorry, Sieg. But I really do need to win,” the man I’m assuming is Hagen says, as he fades into view behind his victim.

    “Hagen? Why?” Siegfried gasps out as he coughs up blood.

    “When I get the Grail, I’m going to make it so that I never killed you,” Hagen says, before noticing Siegfried’s incredulous look. “Okay, poor choice of words. But once I make my wish, everything will be fine again. We’ll be at peace. Gunther won’t be in danger of looking weak if he doesn’t kill you, and you guys can be friends again. And more importantly, my sister won’t brutally murder me for killing her husband.”

    He looks down, only to realize that Siegfried died while he was monologuing.

    “Shit, did he catch all of that?”

    He’s interrupted by Erik’s axe taking his head off.

    Erik, for his part, turns back to Egil and nods appreciatively. “Thanks for agreeing to a truce while I killed the dishonorable coward.”

    “No problem,” Egil says as he lunges back into battle, sword and axe lunging towards Erik’s throat. “Now DIE, Bloodaxe!”

    “You first, Skallagrimson!”

    ---​

    Loki grins. “Right, then. The other team just ran into their own opposite numbers. I’m going to switch over to them.”

    “I kind of want to see how this fight ends, though.”

    “I have a DVR, you can have the recording.”

    “Wait, how would that even work? I mean, aren’t we watching this via magic?”

    “Don’t question the Wizard DVR, Flynn.”

    “I kind of am, though.”

    Loki bonks me on the head, and the screens switch over to display Duryodhana and Sinfjotli.

    They’re face off against a man who reminds me even more of Hercules than Duryodhana.

    ---​

    “Bhima,” Duryodhana says as he faces off against his nemesis. “To what do I owe this distinct unpleasantness?”

    “I was told that the Grail could grant any wish,” the strongest of the Pandavas says. He’s more than seven feet tall, dark-skinned, and sports a massive handlebar mustache. His chest is bare, displaying chest hair to rival Duryodhana’s. “And I would dearly like to see my sons again.”

    “And I’d like to see me brothers again, and the man who was brother to you in blood, and brother to me in every other way,” Duryodhana replies. “But we both made our mistakes, and we reaped a harvest of sorrow for our follies. The war is over, and we both held responsibility for it.”

    Bhima snorts. “Don’t try to blame me for your evil, cousin. You’re rotten to the core, and it’s your greed and pride that started the war.”

    “I- WHAT?” Duryodhana takes a moment to calm himself, and then continues in a more level tone. “I’m pretty sure that I made a speech to the contrary. You remember, don’t you? I pointed out how you guys weren’t all that much better than me? How you’d broken your own honor code? How your elitism and high-handedness were the birth of my hatred for you? You remember that speech, don’t you? I made it while I was dying after you’d ended our duel dishonorably by hitting me in the dick? I was bleeding out from the mangled remains of my genitals? Is any of this ringing a bell?”

    “Just the whining of a sore loser,” Bhima says with a confident smirk as he crosses his arms. “And the man whose war killed my boy Ghatotkacha.”

    “YOU HAD JUST CRUSHED MY TESTICLES INTO A SOUP! I HAD EVERY RIGHT TO BE UPSET!”

    “Please, you’ve been out to kill me and my brothers ever since we were kids. Why would I ever listen to you?”

    “Oh, excuse me, but when have you ever listened to me?” Duryodhana snaps, all attempts at peaceful reconciliation quite thoroughly abandoned. “Hey, you remember when I told you to stop challenging my brothers to wrestling matches? Remember that? I had to wrestle you, in all your freakishly strong glory, on a daily basis, just so you wouldn’t snap one of my little brothers’ spines in half because you were bored and wanted to show off how strong you were.”

    “Please. Just because they were afraid of an honest competition, you’re treating me challenging the cowards to a proper match like it’s a crime!”

    “You broke Ravi’s arm!” Duryodhana shouts, utterly apoplectic. “HE WAS FIVE!”

    “Old enough to start learning how to wrestle,” Bhima says, rolling his eyes. “And you and your entire brood of dishonorable cowards tried to cheat Yudhistira out of his birthright!”

    “Oh, his ‘birthright?’” Duryodhana repeats mockingly. “Yeah, his birthright. Half the kingdom that my father ruled. And on what grounds?”

    “We are part of the older branch of the family,” Bhima says. “We had every right to the throne, as your father recognized.”

    “You’re not part of the family at all!” Duryodhana roars back. “Uncle Pandu was part of the family. You and your brothers were the sole result of a bunch of gods knocking up your mother and then dumping their bastards on us and telling us to treat you like the perfect, special little snowflakes that you are! YOU ARE NOT MY COUSIN! YOU’RE JUST SOME PUFFED-UP DIVINE CUCKOO BIRD THAT GETS EVERYTHING HANDED TO YOU, INCLUDING HALF OF MY KINGDOM!”

    “You hold a grudge against us, and yet you didn’t mind our mother’s bastard.”

    Duryodhana freezes, and then says, his voice tight with rage, “Karna was worth a hundred times you and your brothers combined. And your egoistical little jackass of a brother shot him in back.”

    “He killed my son. That albino bastard got what was coming to him.”

    Duryodhana’s face goes completely still. “Them’s fightin’ words.”

    And then the two hulking men slam into each other, so hard and fast that the windows around them shatter, mace strikes flying between the two giants, each hit ringing out like thunder.

    Suddenly, I realize something.

    ---​

    I turn to Loki. “Where’s Sinfjotli?”

    “Huh.” He looks nonplussed. “Hold on, let me rewind and look through the footage.”

    Soon, we’re looking at Sinfjotli, and Loki starts to replay the footage.

    ---​

    While Bhima and Duryodhana start to argue in the background, Sinfjotli sighs.

    “Great, they're gonna be at this for a while, aren’t they?”

    He receives no answer.

    “Well, who knows. Maybe my opponent will show up soon.”

    “Sinfjotli.”

    He jumps, and then turns around to stare at the woman who spoke, looking for all the world like he just saw a ghost. “M-Mother? Is that you?”

    “Well of course it is, you imbecile,” Signy Volsungsdottir says as she emerges from the alleyway. She looks like her son, with a narrow, harsh face and silver hair. She’s in her early forties, if I had to guess, and she looks it, the sharp, harsh lines on her face setting off the burning intensity of her eyes as she glares at her son. “I will be claiming the Holy Grail and using it to restore your grandfather and uncles to life. You will assist me.”

    “But-“

    “Sinfjotli,” her calm tone doesn’t hide the menace in her voice. “Do I need to get my sewing kit again?”

    He flinches. “No, Mother. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

    She pats him on the head, ignoring how he cringes at her touch. “Good boy. Now heel. We have some hunting to do.”

    She strides off into the shadows of the alleyway, and he follows her, giving a regretful glance back towards the clash between Bhima and Duryodhana before quickening his pace to catch up.

    ---​

    “You summoned Signy?” I ask Loki, utterly disgusted. “Low blow, man. Low blow.”

    “Eh. I mean, the guy barely qualifies as a Heroic Spirit anyways, he accomplished so little with his life.” Loki shrugs. “His mother was the worst of his enemies that I could find.”

    “Still. Not cool, dude.”

    “Yeah, yeah. Back to Bhima v. Duryodhana, Dawn of Dick Shots?”

    “Sure, whatever.”

    ---​

    The two titans smash into each other once again, and, knocking aside his opponent’s mace, Bhima closes in, and then drives his knee into Duryodhana’s groin.

    “I know your weakness and have no weaknesses!” Bhima roars, as Duryodhana staggers back. “MY VICTORY IS INEVITABLE!”

    Duryodhana snorts, and then slams his mace into Bhima’s chest. “You think you can beat me with a cheap shot twice? Joke’s on you, I WORE A CUP!”

    Duryodhana swings, only for Bhima to drop his mace, get around behind his opponent, and hug him from behind.

    And then he piledrives the king of the Kauravas into the pavement, burying his entire torso in the ground.

    “Well, then,” Bhima says, retrieving his mace as Duryodhana kicks helplessly. “Let’s see how strong that cup of yours is.”

    “Bhima, wait, we can talk about this! Please! I don’t want to die like this again!”

    Bhima brings down the mace, and I cross my legs in sympathy.

    ---​

    “Right,” Loki says uncomfortably, as Bhima goes to town on his cousin’s genitals with an eighty-pound mace. “Back to Erik and Egill?”

    Yes.”

    ---​

    The two Vikings lie across from each other in a puddle of blood. Both are covered in bloody gashes, and clearly only alive because of Battle Continuation.

    Finally, Erik rises, using his axe as a crutch, before limping towards his fallen enemy.

    Egill turns his head to look at him.

    Erik breaks the silence. “Good fight.”

    “Yeah.”

    He brings down the axe.

    ---​

    “Huh. Now I’m just disappointed that we missed that fight.”

    “Yeah, me too. But, either way, ROUND TWO IS OVER!” Then the God of Mischief grins. “On to Round Three.”
     
    Last edited: Nov 16, 2020
  23. HelloThereItsMeGeralt

    HelloThereItsMeGeralt Know what you're doing yet?

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    Balls? I was pretty sure it as always Duryodhana's thighs. Please give me the source.

    Bhima behaving typically and forgetting things? Did not speak anything about the poisoning. And forgot about Abhimanyu too.

    A good chapter as always.

    Charles Flynn will you do the pseudo singularities? Or were they handwaved away or something, I forgot.
     
  24. Charles Flynn

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

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    The weak spot exists because when Gandhari was granted her gaze of life, and decided to use it when she saw her son for the first time, Duryodhana wore a loincloth so as not to flash his junk at his mother. Thus, the areas covered by his loincloth, i.e., his inner thighs and genitals, were the only parts of him not rendered invulnerable.

    And yeah, Bhima is in fact forgetting things. He wasn't the brains of the Pandavas.

    The Pseudo-Singularities of Epic of Remnant will not be covered. They still happened, but they were handled offscreen by Chaldea's new undead Master.
     
    Last edited: Nov 16, 2020
  25. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    Isn't it a bit boring that all the matches just result in the same outcomes as the myths? I mean, the entire point of Servants fighting it out is to get a second chance to redo things. Sure they have a disadvantage, but that's when willpower or some such kicks in.

    I mean, if the results aren't different, I might as well just go look up the mythologies and see what happened there.

    Heck, Charlie might as well predict every outcome like this and just use that against Loki.
     
  26. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    There are high levels of honk in this time stream.

    Eh, yeah I can see why he would want to do that after everything.

    Nice observation Captain Obvious.

    Have you been taking pointers from Sherlock?

    You and most of the people reading this story.

    This is hilarious.

    Nice, one of the most supportive Servants is doing his thing.

    You first, you viking cunt.

    You don't have to excuse yourself Siegfried, you're doing something worthwhile.

    Family drama taken to a whole new level.

    Talking is not a free action.

    My guess is no.

    Well that was a thing.

    Red Tornado Abridged: Because magic you fucking potato.

    Good Loki.

    Okay I did not know this and wish I had never found it out.

    Yes, yes you did.

    Ohh, yeah, a guy with super strength versus a bunch of kids is totally a honest competition.

    Duryo, kill this bitch.

    Harsh but fair.

    There is a story behind this, but I'm too afraid to find out what happened.

    Please make this into a separate story.

    History repeats itself.

    Preparation for the win!

    We are all doing it.

    I really wanna see undead Charles in action now.
     
  27. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Okay, Charles, be honest here.

    Is Loki possessing Jerry Springer, but making it look like Tom Hiddleston?

    This just screams Jerry, family drama, old enemies, loss of balls, psychological scarring.
     
  28. Charles Flynn

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

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    I'm afraid not.

    Loki did watch a lot of Jerry Springer reruns before starting his plan, though.

    When he was a kid, she would stitch his clothing into his skin, and then rip it off, to see if he'd cry. (He never did, because Volsungs don't cry. If they do, their mothers stitch their eyes shut.)
     
  29. Darko

    Darko Connoisseur.

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    Ah, poo.

    Makes sense.

    I said I was too afraid!

    Also, sweet Christ chowing down on a ton of hotdogs, that is one fucked up woman.

    Medea officially loses the title of worst mother, or at least has a very serious contender for it.
     
  30. Brenden1k

    Brenden1k Getting out there.

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    not sure what you mean.
     
    Charles Flynn likes this.
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