A fusion of Lord of the Mysteries and Fate, where the esoteric conspiracies of the Fifth Epoch intertwine with the blood-soaked ritual of the Holy Grail War. In the shadows of Backlund, where the gears of industry churn and the whispers of ancient beings echo, seven Masters and their Servants prepare to fight for an artifact that promises the impossible.
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The Fool’s Holy Grail
- Thread starter Nerdycrow
- Start date
- Created
- Status
- Incomplete
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- 6
- Recent readers
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- Threadmarks
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Statistics (3 threadmarks, 1.7k words)
User Total Nerdycrow 3 Threadmarks Reader mode -
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Chapter 1
New
Nerdycrow
Sequence 8 : mele scholer
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2022
- Messages
- 433
- Likes received
- 1,837
Danitz Dubois stepped of the steam locomotive, his boots landing with a thud on the form ground. A breeze passed him filled with the smell of smoke and coal.
Backlund was truly alive.
Workers moved in tireless rhythm, hoisting crates, rolling barrels, and barking orders as if the station itself was a great machine of flesh.
Beyond them, plumes of steam curled into the sky from distant factories, their ceaseless labor painting the horizon in a haze of smoke and progress. The dull clatter of metal, the hiss of steam valves, and the rhythmic pounding of hammers merged into a chorus that sang of hard labour.
Near the cobbled streets, carriages stood in neat rows, their drivers eyeing potential fares with a practiced mix of patience and opportunism. Some were simple hansoms, meant for those with moderate means, while others, with their polished lacquer and gold trim, waited for more distinguished clientele. Gentlemen in well-tailored coats and top hats strolled with the air of quiet authority, their polished shoes tapping against the stone. Ladies, draped in fine fabrics and adorned with tasteful jewelry, walked in pairs or small groups, their voices a pleasant murmur.
Danitz exhaled, smoothing his coat. It was as if he had taken a great toll on himself.
"Dog shit, why did that basterd want to me to come to Backlund?"
The rugged voice left the man.
Although the voice held a little confusion but fear would be evident as well.
What will he do next?
[1] Secure Lodging
[2] Find a place to Eat
[3] Immediately try and complete his task.
Backlund was truly alive.
Workers moved in tireless rhythm, hoisting crates, rolling barrels, and barking orders as if the station itself was a great machine of flesh.
Beyond them, plumes of steam curled into the sky from distant factories, their ceaseless labor painting the horizon in a haze of smoke and progress. The dull clatter of metal, the hiss of steam valves, and the rhythmic pounding of hammers merged into a chorus that sang of hard labour.
Near the cobbled streets, carriages stood in neat rows, their drivers eyeing potential fares with a practiced mix of patience and opportunism. Some were simple hansoms, meant for those with moderate means, while others, with their polished lacquer and gold trim, waited for more distinguished clientele. Gentlemen in well-tailored coats and top hats strolled with the air of quiet authority, their polished shoes tapping against the stone. Ladies, draped in fine fabrics and adorned with tasteful jewelry, walked in pairs or small groups, their voices a pleasant murmur.
Danitz exhaled, smoothing his coat. It was as if he had taken a great toll on himself.
"Dog shit, why did that basterd want to me to come to Backlund?"
The rugged voice left the man.
Although the voice held a little confusion but fear would be evident as well.
What will he do next?
[1] Secure Lodging
[2] Find a place to Eat
[3] Immediately try and complete his task.
Information
New
Nerdycrow
Sequence 8 : mele scholer
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2022
- Messages
- 433
- Likes received
- 1,837
Quest Information
Narrative-Driven: This quest is purely narrative, meaning there are no dice rolls or mechanical systems in play. The focus is on storytelling, atmosphere, and character choices.
Player Agency: The players guide Danitz's decisions, shaping his investigation into Backlund's mysteries based on the options presented—or by suggesting their own course of action.
Mystery & Intrigue: Expect subtle tension, hidden motives, and gradual reveals. Some irregularities will be small, easily dismissed—others may be far more dangerous than they first appear.
Danitz's Perspective: The quest follows the mindset and personality of Danitz Dubois, keeping him in character as pirate
Narrative-Driven: This quest is purely narrative, meaning there are no dice rolls or mechanical systems in play. The focus is on storytelling, atmosphere, and character choices.
Player Agency: The players guide Danitz's decisions, shaping his investigation into Backlund's mysteries based on the options presented—or by suggesting their own course of action.
Mystery & Intrigue: Expect subtle tension, hidden motives, and gradual reveals. Some irregularities will be small, easily dismissed—others may be far more dangerous than they first appear.
Danitz's Perspective: The quest follows the mindset and personality of Danitz Dubois, keeping him in character as pirate
Chapter 2
New
Nerdycrow
Sequence 8 : mele scholer
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2022
- Messages
- 433
- Likes received
- 1,837
His stomach twisted, not just with apprehension but hunger. He hadn't eaten since the train ride, and the emptiness gnawed at him.
Stepping away from the platform, he found himself at the edge of the bustling station. He caught sight of a middle-aged man in a soot-stained coat smoking near a stack of crates. The man's sunken eyes flicked toward Danitz as he approached.
"Oi," Danitz said, keeping his tone casual. "Where am I exactly?"
The man gave him a look, then exhaled a stream of smoke. "Backlund Central Station, where else?"
Danitz clicked his tongue. "Yeah, no shit. I mean, what part of the city?"
"Near Backlund Bridge." The man took another drag of his cigarette, then gestured down the street. "If you're lookin' for a place to sit and eat, try Bravehearts Bar. Not much else 'round here unless you fancy throwing your money at the fancy cafés."
Danitz nodded, muttering a quick thanks before heading in the direction the man pointed.
---
The streets near Backlund Bridge were quieter than the station, though the hum of city life never truly faded. He found Bravehearts Bar easily—a modest, unassuming establishment tucked between a tailor's shop and a locksmith.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside.
The place was nearly empty, as expected for this time of day. A few solitary drinkers sat at separate tables, heads down, nursing their cups. The gas lamps flickered dimly, casting a warm but subdued glow over the worn wooden furniture.
Danitz made his way to the bar and leaned against the counter. The barkeep, a stocky man with a graying beard, barely glanced up from wiping a glass.
"Stew and bread," Danitz ordered. "And a drink. Something strong."
The barkeep grunted but went to prepare his order.
Danitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was here now. The question was—what came next?
Danitz drummed his fingers against the counter, his stomach already impatient for the food. The dim bar, nearly empty in the late afternoon, gave him plenty of space to think—unfortunately.
As he waited, his thoughts inevitably circled back to why he was here in the first place.
Gehrman Sparrow had sent him a letter. Well, "letter" was a generous term—it had been more like a demand written in disturbingly concise handwriting.
"Danitz, travel to Backlund immediately. There have been multiple disappearances—mostly Intis nationals. Investigate and report back."
That was it. No explanation. No details. No "Try not to die, old friend." Just the cold, efficient wording of a man who had long since mastered the art of making others do his work.
Danitz groaned, letting his forehead lightly hit the bar counter. "Damn that bastard…"
The barkeep glanced at him but wisely said nothing.
Danitz lifted his head and sighed dramatically. Missing Intis nationals? In Backlund? He had no clue why Gehrman Sparrow had decided he was the perfect man for the job. Sure, he was Intisian, but that hardly made him an expert in sniffing out kidnappers!
And, knowing that lunatic, there was a very real possibility that he had sent Danitz here as bait.
He shuddered.
Oh, yes, let's dangle Danitz in the middle of the crime scene! Who wouldn't want to kidnap a man as charming and valuable as me? What an excellent plan, truly a masterful use of my talents!
His stomach growled in agreement. Right. His talents included eating.
A wooden plate was placed in front of him, the scent of thick stew and fresh bread cutting through his dramatics. Danitz immediately grabbed a spoon and took a bite—hot, rich, meaty.
Well, at least the food in this city hasn't tried to kill me yet.
He took a swig of his drink, warmth spreading through his chest.
Alright. First things first—he had to figure out where these people had disappeared. Then, he needed to confirm that he wasn't also about to disappear.
And then—if he survived—he was going to send Gehrman Sparrow a very strongly worded letter about the importance of detailed mission briefings.
What are his plans?
[ ] Send a Letter to Gehrman Sparrow (or The Fool)
[ ] Check Police Reports (Legally or Illegally)
[ ] Visit the Intis Expat Community
[ ] Write in
Stepping away from the platform, he found himself at the edge of the bustling station. He caught sight of a middle-aged man in a soot-stained coat smoking near a stack of crates. The man's sunken eyes flicked toward Danitz as he approached.
"Oi," Danitz said, keeping his tone casual. "Where am I exactly?"
The man gave him a look, then exhaled a stream of smoke. "Backlund Central Station, where else?"
Danitz clicked his tongue. "Yeah, no shit. I mean, what part of the city?"
"Near Backlund Bridge." The man took another drag of his cigarette, then gestured down the street. "If you're lookin' for a place to sit and eat, try Bravehearts Bar. Not much else 'round here unless you fancy throwing your money at the fancy cafés."
Danitz nodded, muttering a quick thanks before heading in the direction the man pointed.
---
The streets near Backlund Bridge were quieter than the station, though the hum of city life never truly faded. He found Bravehearts Bar easily—a modest, unassuming establishment tucked between a tailor's shop and a locksmith.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside.
The place was nearly empty, as expected for this time of day. A few solitary drinkers sat at separate tables, heads down, nursing their cups. The gas lamps flickered dimly, casting a warm but subdued glow over the worn wooden furniture.
Danitz made his way to the bar and leaned against the counter. The barkeep, a stocky man with a graying beard, barely glanced up from wiping a glass.
"Stew and bread," Danitz ordered. "And a drink. Something strong."
The barkeep grunted but went to prepare his order.
Danitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was here now. The question was—what came next?
Danitz drummed his fingers against the counter, his stomach already impatient for the food. The dim bar, nearly empty in the late afternoon, gave him plenty of space to think—unfortunately.
As he waited, his thoughts inevitably circled back to why he was here in the first place.
Gehrman Sparrow had sent him a letter. Well, "letter" was a generous term—it had been more like a demand written in disturbingly concise handwriting.
"Danitz, travel to Backlund immediately. There have been multiple disappearances—mostly Intis nationals. Investigate and report back."
That was it. No explanation. No details. No "Try not to die, old friend." Just the cold, efficient wording of a man who had long since mastered the art of making others do his work.
Danitz groaned, letting his forehead lightly hit the bar counter. "Damn that bastard…"
The barkeep glanced at him but wisely said nothing.
Danitz lifted his head and sighed dramatically. Missing Intis nationals? In Backlund? He had no clue why Gehrman Sparrow had decided he was the perfect man for the job. Sure, he was Intisian, but that hardly made him an expert in sniffing out kidnappers!
And, knowing that lunatic, there was a very real possibility that he had sent Danitz here as bait.
He shuddered.
Oh, yes, let's dangle Danitz in the middle of the crime scene! Who wouldn't want to kidnap a man as charming and valuable as me? What an excellent plan, truly a masterful use of my talents!
His stomach growled in agreement. Right. His talents included eating.
A wooden plate was placed in front of him, the scent of thick stew and fresh bread cutting through his dramatics. Danitz immediately grabbed a spoon and took a bite—hot, rich, meaty.
Well, at least the food in this city hasn't tried to kill me yet.
He took a swig of his drink, warmth spreading through his chest.
Alright. First things first—he had to figure out where these people had disappeared. Then, he needed to confirm that he wasn't also about to disappear.
And then—if he survived—he was going to send Gehrman Sparrow a very strongly worded letter about the importance of detailed mission briefings.
What are his plans?
[ ] Send a Letter to Gehrman Sparrow (or The Fool)
[ ] Check Police Reports (Legally or Illegally)
[ ] Visit the Intis Expat Community
[ ] Write in
Chapter 3
New
Nerdycrow
Sequence 8 : mele scholer
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2022
- Messages
- 433
- Likes received
- 1,837
Danitz wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pushing the empty plate away with a satisfied sigh. The warmth of the stew settled in his stomach, but it did nothing to ease the cold knot of anxiety forming in his chest. He had work to do.
Checking police reports in Backlund wasn't exactly difficult. The problem was doing it without getting arrested. Technically, he was still a wanted man in the eyes of the authorities—an unfortunate side effect of his past associations. But that just meant he had to be smart about it.
He tossed a few coins onto the counter and stood, adjusting his coat. First, he needed to find a source. Someone with access to the reports. Someone who could be bribed, coerced, or otherwise convinced to let him take a peek.
Danitz stepped out into the dreary afternoon, the scent of coal smoke thick in the air. He pulled his collar up against the chill and started walking.
He had a few options. The most obvious was to track down a corrupt officer—Backlund was full of them. A few well-placed coins in the right hands could get him exactly what he needed. The second option was riskier: sneaking into a precinct and getting the files himself. And the third… well, it was barely an option, but he could always try to shake down an informant.
Danitz clicked his tongue.
The second option was much faster.
Damn that basterd was having an affect on him.
Midnight found Danitz crouched in a dark alley behind the Howley Street precinct. The building loomed over him, gas lamps casting flickering shadows across the soot-streaked brick.
He took a deep breath.
Getting inside wasn't the problem. Getting out with the reports? That was another matter entirely.
"Dog shit, I can just punch the people in there."
Danitz flexed his fingers, feeling the faint, unnatural strength thrumming beneath his skin. He took a step back, then lunged forward, pushing off the ground with more force than any normal man could muster. His boots barely scuffed against the brick as he vaulted upward, fingers catching the narrow ledge of a second-story window.
With practiced ease, he pulled himself up, careful not to let his coat snag on the iron bars that framed the lower half of the opening. Luck was on his side—someone had been careless enough to leave the upper pane open, a crack wide enough for him to slip through.
He swung one leg inside, then the other, landing in a crouch on the wooden floor. His breath was steady, his movements smooth. It was almost too easy.
The room was dark, but as a Hunter it wasn't impossible to see in it. His senses had been enhanced to an unatural degree.
The room was an office of some kind. Hmm, probably a higher ranking officer.
Danitz frowned, rifling through the neatly stacked papers on the desk. Financial records, patrol schedules, arrest logs—everything except what he was looking for. He flipped through another folder, his fingers moving with the precision of a man well-practiced in searching places he had no business being in.
Nothing.
No reports of missing Intis nationals, no investigations into disappearances, not even a passing mention of something unusual in the foreigner districts. Either the police had nothing, or someone had scrubbed the records clean.
He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. That was a problem.
Danitz closed the folder and placed it back exactly where he'd found it. If there were no official records, that meant one of two things—either the disappearances weren't being reported, or they were being deliberately buried. Neither option sat well with him.
A quiet creak in the hallway made him freeze.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
Danitz pulled his coat tighter around him, inching toward the shadows by the door. His hand hovered near his belt, fingers brushing against the concealed dagger he kept for emergencies.
The steps stopped just outside the room.
A beat of silence.
Then the door handle rattled.
Danitz exhaled sharply through his nose. Looked like he was about to have a long night.
What's his next move?
1. Hide and Observe –
2. Ambush the Intruder –
3. Escape Through the Window –
4. Bluff His Way Out –
Checking police reports in Backlund wasn't exactly difficult. The problem was doing it without getting arrested. Technically, he was still a wanted man in the eyes of the authorities—an unfortunate side effect of his past associations. But that just meant he had to be smart about it.
He tossed a few coins onto the counter and stood, adjusting his coat. First, he needed to find a source. Someone with access to the reports. Someone who could be bribed, coerced, or otherwise convinced to let him take a peek.
Danitz stepped out into the dreary afternoon, the scent of coal smoke thick in the air. He pulled his collar up against the chill and started walking.
He had a few options. The most obvious was to track down a corrupt officer—Backlund was full of them. A few well-placed coins in the right hands could get him exactly what he needed. The second option was riskier: sneaking into a precinct and getting the files himself. And the third… well, it was barely an option, but he could always try to shake down an informant.
Danitz clicked his tongue.
The second option was much faster.
Damn that basterd was having an affect on him.
Midnight found Danitz crouched in a dark alley behind the Howley Street precinct. The building loomed over him, gas lamps casting flickering shadows across the soot-streaked brick.
He took a deep breath.
Getting inside wasn't the problem. Getting out with the reports? That was another matter entirely.
"Dog shit, I can just punch the people in there."
Danitz flexed his fingers, feeling the faint, unnatural strength thrumming beneath his skin. He took a step back, then lunged forward, pushing off the ground with more force than any normal man could muster. His boots barely scuffed against the brick as he vaulted upward, fingers catching the narrow ledge of a second-story window.
With practiced ease, he pulled himself up, careful not to let his coat snag on the iron bars that framed the lower half of the opening. Luck was on his side—someone had been careless enough to leave the upper pane open, a crack wide enough for him to slip through.
He swung one leg inside, then the other, landing in a crouch on the wooden floor. His breath was steady, his movements smooth. It was almost too easy.
The room was dark, but as a Hunter it wasn't impossible to see in it. His senses had been enhanced to an unatural degree.
The room was an office of some kind. Hmm, probably a higher ranking officer.
Danitz frowned, rifling through the neatly stacked papers on the desk. Financial records, patrol schedules, arrest logs—everything except what he was looking for. He flipped through another folder, his fingers moving with the precision of a man well-practiced in searching places he had no business being in.
Nothing.
No reports of missing Intis nationals, no investigations into disappearances, not even a passing mention of something unusual in the foreigner districts. Either the police had nothing, or someone had scrubbed the records clean.
He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. That was a problem.
Danitz closed the folder and placed it back exactly where he'd found it. If there were no official records, that meant one of two things—either the disappearances weren't being reported, or they were being deliberately buried. Neither option sat well with him.
A quiet creak in the hallway made him freeze.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
Danitz pulled his coat tighter around him, inching toward the shadows by the door. His hand hovered near his belt, fingers brushing against the concealed dagger he kept for emergencies.
The steps stopped just outside the room.
A beat of silence.
Then the door handle rattled.
Danitz exhaled sharply through his nose. Looked like he was about to have a long night.
What's his next move?
1. Hide and Observe –
2. Ambush the Intruder –
3. Escape Through the Window –
4. Bluff His Way Out –
Arashi Zaros
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2022
- Messages
- 722
- Likes received
- 2,497
Rarely would I find a 'Lord of the mystery' cross-over here, the problem is that this site and SV usually have way less reader to read a quest there, let alone voting. So if you have trouble getting voter for the quest then I recommend cross-post on SB for now (if not then put the time waiting for vote a bit longer than 2 day depend on amount of reader and voter). maybe share your quest on some thread that dedicated to help new quest in starting first