[Log] Gilgamesh: WORLD TOUR Part 8 - Many (Un)Happy Returns
Who: Gilgamesh, Saber, Rin Tohsaka, Archer
Where: Fuyuki City, Japan
What: Incensed by Gilgamesh's rampage across worlds, Saber broadcasts a challenge she believes only he will recognize, meeting in the city where everything began. His overjoyed to found her, though the King of Knights is less so. And amidst it all, it turns out more were able to decipher Saber's cryptic message than anticipated..
Watch For: Noble Phantasms around, including a near Mexican stand-off between Gil's own true weapon Ea, The Sword of Rupture, and Saber's Excalibur until -someone- messes it all up >:|.
The last light of the day faded slowly as the sun dipped below the horizon of Fuyuki City, the red hues fading into the violet of dusk. The full moon had already begun to rise as if chasing after it, destined never to catch the fleeting golden light. Or perhaps it had been the one fleeing the scorching sun, following on its trail to escape being caught itself. Who could say, really?
The rumbling purr of an engine shattered the stillness of the early evening, the growl of a mechanical beast that bore its rider to the scene, bathed in the pale white light reflected off its metallic skin. It was a remote enough place--a good distance from Fuyuki's residential area with level ground and few distractions. An ideal location for the deadly game that was about to begin.
Bringing the motorcycle to a halt, the rider paused, subtly scanning the area before dismounting. With a fluid motion, she stripped off her helmet, revealing the blonde hair pulled away from her girlish face and sharp blue-green eyes that glittered in the faint light as she continued to observe the soon-to-be battlefield.
Silently, she offered up a prayer to her Lord. Here is where it would end -- one way or the other. And it was almost time for the final game to begin.
Several minutes pass by once the first participant of this evening's festivities arrives, several minutes in which the air remains calm, still and unobtrusive. Where could that second one be, the nebulous King of Heroes? Had he believed it a hoax (surely not)? Had a trap been set? Or was he simply waiting, admiring the moment, spying her with an envious eye from afar? An unmistakable voice carried on the wind shall soon answer the question.
"My bounty is as deep as the sea..."
There is no visible body that can yet be attached to that voice, for it seems come from several directions. Some trick, some artifact? Or perhaps a natural talent the owner had rare cause to use? He does not seem particularly undeterred, for the wind continues to blow.
"My love as deep; the more I give to thee..."
The wind crests and rises, blowing at a level unanticipated for the weather, nearby trees swaying in the fury. This is surely not a natural phenomenon, made only more frustrating by the continued soliloquy. An educated soul may surely recognize it now as borrowed from the works of England's most famous bard.
"The more I have, for both are infinite."
As the sun has faded, the full moon now hangs in the sky illuminating the deserted area with its pale light, exposing that which is hidden, which is secret. There, poised delicately atop a stalwart oak, stands a familiar figure in golden armor. The first language of man decorates him in blue-painted symbols, his crimson gaze falling with unbidden longing and eagerness upon the object of his quest; The woman for which he has torn worlds and lives apart.
"Such is my love, to thee I so belong..." He continues, a hitherto unseen bounded book of some manner held open in his hand, though he gazes not even a little towards it. His eyes do not leave the blonde swordswoman, "That for thy right myself will bear all wrong." One hand closes the tome with a snap that seems to quiet the stirring wind, the book vanishing in a ripple of air the second it has been shut. There is only the two of them. His eyes stare with an intensity that would demand lesser souls to look away. She was as beautiful and regal as ever. An expectant, warm smile spread across his features, but the inviting look of his passionate eyes could not hide the hunger of an unsated beast, a creature long-starved.
"Saber."
If it had been anyone else, those words might have had some meaning behind them, some gentleness of soul. But no. Not when spoken by the only one who had ever earned the full brunt of her enmity. He made a very mockery of them, using them however way he saw fit with no heed to what they truly meant. But then, so to in everything. There was not a single thing in any world that was not some toy for his amusement. Oh, how she /despised/ him.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, and without a single turn of her head they cast about searching for the source of that ethereal voice. A trick, then? He had always seemed to enjoy tormenting her. Well, she would grace him with the satisfaction.
Her face remained carved from stone, resisting the anger that roiled beneath the surface.
She met that burning crimson gaze directly and without even the slightest flinch. She was far too angry to ever look away, and she wanted him to know that she would /never/ yield a single inch to him.
"Gilgamesh." In spite of the deceptive calm of her face, she spoke his name like a curse.
"O King of Knights, how I have missed you." Dropping from his perch with ease, Gilgamesh makes nary a sound as he touches upon the ground. Saber was one of the few upon which he would relinquish his natural status above willingly and without hesitation, "You've not changed a bit since the day of our battlesince the day this pathetic city was consumed in flames." Ah, simply looking at her put him back in the midst of those glorious days, bringing his wrath down upon fools and conquering foes. He could feel the heat of the flames once more, the burning of his blood! The King of Heroes finds no small sense of irony in the fact that his search should end in the very city he'd discarded to begin it.
"I've had quite a few since then, as you've no doubt seen...yet none have been the same. None have even approached the level of our war." His smile shows deceptively white teeth, "Countless worlds, unrestricted freedom...and scarcely a single worthy opponent. But that has ended today." Hand planted firmly on his hip, he'll fit her with a haughty smirk, "Though truth be told, I did not think you'd tolerate so much desecration before appearing. This is good, for there will be so much more after we are wed."
Ah, yes, that was right. "Speaking of which, I have waited long enough." He has summoned no weapon as yet, the air does not even faintly whirl around him, "I made my decision back then...I am still waiting for yours, Saber."
With so little effort on his part, the armour cracked. Not as much as it could have, but it was enough to glimpse the fires of rage lurking beneath. His lust for death and destruction was truly an abomination. She quickly and carefully assembled her expression into an impassive one--or as impassive as she was able to, given her building rage. While he had somehow been deemed worthy to become a Heroic Spirit, the rot was apparent to the King of Knights. "How far you have fallen, King of Heroes. How very far."
But her rage was not to be concealed long. Her eyes widened at mention of the devastation he had caused--and revelled in. She had been told of it before, but to hear the obvious pleasure in his voice at what he had wrought --along with his assumption of marriage-- sickened her almost to the point of physical illness. "You pitiful man--how disgusting you are," she spat.
Her answer to his demand was immediate. Gone were here riding clothes, replaced by the armour she had worn as both Servant and King. The air between her hands distorted the light around the sword she summoned to her hands, concealing it completely. She levelled the invisible blade at him, her fury reflected in every part of her being.
"Here is my answer, King of Heroes!"
For all the anger Saber manages to muster, Gilgamesh seems positively droll. The meaning of the word 'hero' had so changed over the eons that he scarcely recognized it anymore...nor did he care to. Whatever the mongrels of this current day, and even of Saber's own time seemed to think...it was quite clear the world itself stood by his own definition when it chose to elevate a soul to the Throne. "Fallen?" His eyes lid slightly. Were she anyone else, he'd punish such insolence, "I have done no such thing. Every act you witness was due justice brought to bear by myself as recompense for the numerous offenses the mongrels of these worlds insist on visiting upon me. They have none but their own folly to blame."
But he did not come here to argue over such scruples with her. They'd already -had- that session, along with the King of Conquerors. His thoughts on the matter were known, and he would see her bent to them. "That defiant spirit..." He laughs, elated at her revulsion, "It is nothing less than what I expect! That willfulness, that fury! Those are the qualities for which I chose you! I am so glad your blade has not dulled in the years, Saber." His demeanor has grown no less excitable for her disdain, brows raising a touch at her proclamation, "That's the same answer you gave me before. It will not do...but if you further convincing, so be it." Crossing his arms, the Sumerian wears an expression of supreme confidence and approval in events thus far, "Gate of Babylon."
The unseen gate opens to a curtain of red behind him, the creak of reality giving way to that which should not be there as the hoard of a King ripples into existence around him. The treasury of Uruk shines in all its glory, prepared to meet Saber's unseen blade. "As a King, I must treat you no differently from another in this respect." The Golden King makes his proclamation as haughtily as he could, casting a golden arm outwards, "Only the worthy may approach my person. Do your best, Saber."
The assembled weapons streak forth in a cohesive thicket of blades prepared to pierce limb, life and whatever else may be there. The torrent is Saber's to fight through; The trial she must overcome before Gilgamesh will deign to honor even her with single combat.
She'd had quite enough of that mockery, and the people in all the worlds he had crushed carelessly under his heel had certainly had enough suffering. The time for talking was long past. She would end it or else disappear in the effort.
She had anticipated the opening of the Gate of Babylon, but the hail of blades would not stay her hand. With the seemingly effortless grace of a dancer and all the speed of the highest class of Servant, she wove her way through the deadly rain, deflecting what swords were directly in her path with Excalibur. Closing the distance between them was the only way Saber could effectively fight him on equal terms.
She was but a few feet from him in merely seconds, the concealed sword coming to bear down on him and threatening to cleave him from shoulder to hip. The only sound she made through it all was the battle yell she now let loose with her attack.
Gilgamesh seems utterly entranced by Saber's movements as she weaves in and out of the steel storm that has decimated cities, armies and everything under the sky. Not a step of her path is wasted, not a swing of the blade without thought. To him, she was smooth, flowing, unforgiving perfection. He could not have asked for a greater queen, for a more valuable treasure. Had he not dreamt this, once or twice? Was he in a waking dream even now? The King of Heroes was no longer sure, but hoped it would not end.
So taken is he, in fact, that he has nearly not noticed his fellow servant coming close enough to strike at him. Still, he is a warrior as much as he is a king, and it is those natural instincts that prevent him from being struck down where he stands. Steel rings against steel as a fine blade is conjured within the ancient king's hand to meet the unseen sword in a clash that splits the very air, wind rushing in to fill the sudden vacuum with a fury that belies the battle now unfolding.
" Excellent, Saber!" He comments with a savage smile, using his superior height and considerable strength in an attempt to force the might of Excalibur back with but one arm, to see her knees buckle before him. "I see you've lost none of that bite...I can waste my time no more amongst mongrels and pretenders. Finally, a true battle between servants!" A careful step back is all it takes to give him enough room for reprisal, which takes the form of several powerful, relentless blows that aim to put the once high King of Camelot on the defensive. Strong as they are, they are not reckless; Each blow is aimed and guided by the preternatural awareness of a man out of more savage times. Though they may lack the level of refinement and discipline inherent in Saber's technique, they are far from wild.
"What's the matter?" He'll query with humor in between blows, "You hide that sword of yours behind an illusion as it were something to keep beneath your skirts." His eagerness only underscores his unrestrained licentiousness, "We both know what you wield, Arturia!""
The expression of concentration twists into naked disgust even as she deftly blocks his blows. From her perspective, it had been merely days since she last fought him, and so she had lost little of whatever edge she held against the Golden King. But the relentless attack forced her on the defencive, and if she did not find a way to turn that tide, she would not be victorious. And she had to time it precisely; not even a fraction of a second could she afford to lose.
"You--"
As one blow was carefully deflected and another began, she ducked, pulling her sword back with lightning speed over her head and forming an arc around her body. Using the resulting momentum, she swung the full might of Excalibur up towards his midsection for what would be a definitive killing blow to a mere mortal man.
"--/Talk too much/!"
Yet while Saber had seen him merely days before, Gilgamesh had languished for years in the decadent filth of the modern world before discovering the same gate Saber fell through. Realizing there could have been a chance, a slim possibility she had not faded at the end of the war, but was merely lost...there was no way he could have stayed put. Even though their arrivals had been held at the whim of time and space, possessing this knowledge wouldn't matter in the slightest to the King of Heroes. She was Saber, the last incarnation of her had seen...for all intents and purposes, she was -his- Saber. All of them were.
Each blow she parries, each strike she meets only stokes the fires of his desire, inspiring ever bolder attacks. His footwork guides him in a predatory circle around the diminutive King as their dance grows ever deadlier. He in fact does -not- speak for several moments, content to savor the intimacy of their battle, the determination in her aquamarine eyes, the unblemished vision of her perfectly sculpted face. When h meets that final, powerful blow that would separate a mere mortal's torsos permanently, his blade does not merely ring. He has chosen an inferior sword to face the might of Excalibur, and it announces this offence by shattering the nameless sword into several steel fragments, its power broken by the force of Saber's blow.
"Hmph." Instinctively leaping back, Gilgamesh offers a temporary distance between himself and his chosen bride. Hidden while they fought, the armory of the Golden King shows its pointed, gleaming face as another blade is retrieved, this one holding a greater power than the first. Merodach, the Original Sin, the source of Saber's former blade Caliburn as well as several others. The unholy power of this sword crackles with darkness, the King of Heroes seeming as comfortable with it as any other blade. "Methinks the maiden doth protest too much." Is all he offers in response to the fellows King's chiding, for now.
With an eager battle cry he'll rush back in, closing with Saber in a speed only a servant could be capable of. He'll bring that devilish sword down overhead with one arm and the strength of a demigod, following up with forward push attempting to knock the Once
Gilgamesh's banter was awarded with a soft 'tche' of disapproval. Everything about him was beyond infuriating - but she could not afford to lose her focus now. Defeating him would demand that she bury her loathing of him temporarily to give this battle her full concentration. As abominable as he was, the King of Heroes was not an opponent to be taken lightly. She knew that all too well.
She had to be light on her feet to be able to take full advantage of the agility of her class, when fractions of a second were all the difference between a successful blow or a crushing defeat. Her short stature made this easy; she could easily turn and use the torque of that spin to add even more power to her mana-fueled strength, and just as easily change directions, even in midair. However, against raw power when she could not simply dodge, she was at a clear disadvantage.
As Excalibur greeted its predecessor, Saber grunted softly, her left foot sliding back to stablilise her and keep her rooted to the ground. But under that onslaught, she was pushed back, her tiny, nimble body no match for that strength.
But she would not yield, and the air around Excalibur quickened as she prepared for a release of mana through the blade, exposing it and hopefully pushing him back just far enough to give her some room to manoeuvre.
The ever-present hubris of mankind's first king expresses itself to deadly effect in every swing Gilgamesh makes. He'll lean in with all his strength into each blow, every step Saber retreats limning a growing sense of perverse, gleeful satisfaction on the Hero-King's face. "What an appropriate reunion!" He remarks, not intending to give her even a moment's spite from his flurry of blows, "The ring of battle, the song of blades!" Merodach surged with an unwelcoming energy, the elder blade thrilled to clash with an upstart comparative newcomer, nearly as giddy as its own wielder, "The only thing we're missing is a sea of fire."
Oh well, you could not have everything...at least, not all at once. The small size of his opponent can put him at a disadvantage; Attempting to land a hit on Saber at even this range is like trying to cut apart the very wind itself as the deftly moving King of Knights ducks and weaves through each scything swing with the tempestuous grace one might expect of the aforementioned element, when she wasn't simply parrying them. Yet Gilgamesh is afforded an advantage of his own by his superior height; Able to exert all his strength downwards upon the head of his foe, he likely need make but one direct, decisive hit to gain the firm upper hand in this battle. Saber had to swing up to hit him, generally; The earth they fought upon would steal the edge from her own strength.
Still, this fact did not provide the Golden King with so much help when Arturia invoked her mana burst. The golden blade gleams, if but for a moment, and a gale force that could fell a modern house buffets the Archer-Class servant head-on. "Gh..!" Blown several paces back the fury of that blow, he staggers back even further as the weaker trees in the vicinity fall around him, Merodach held up in a weak-looking guard. Saber has at least two visible choices now: Take advantage of the opening, or steel herself for the inevitable counterattack.
While Gilgamesh revelled in the battle, the King of Knights only wished for it to be brought to a swift end, preferably with herself the victor. And she wished for it almost as if to simply make him be quiet, a current of frustration running underneath her concentration. He had nearly landed several successful blows due to that. Gritting her teeth, she willed her anger down deliberately lest she lose more than just ground to him.
Her next move was alomst a desperate gamble, but that gamble had paid off; with her mana-fueled light attack, the King of Heroes had been caught off-guard. Saber had not put a great deal of power into it; the move was intended more as a distraction than to cause much harm. It would take far more than a simple flare of mana to burn through the golden armour. She would not waste the opportunity.
The King of Knights did not have the time to simply stand and build up her mana for a greater attack, so she would have to allow it to build while simultaneously moving forward. Charging forward at full-speed with Excalibur's now-exposed blade lit like a falling star, Saber lunged at the First King of mankind to deliver a crushing, magic-powered overhead blow.
Being the source of a given weapon's myth was not always a sure-all method of victory. It was possible for a weapon to become famous to a degree that it replaced its own original sources, rendering its predecessor useless against it in battle. In Merodach's case, the link to Excalibur was weak in the first place, and while it may be known as 'The Strongest Unholy Sword', the fame of its polar opposite was just too great to stand against. Catching the King of Heroes with his guard down only further exacerbates the problem; Even the blade's dragon-slaying property does not help it against Saber when the shining blade comes to bear. There is not even a struggle; Merodach is torn from Gilgamesh's grip like an infant's rattler and sails spinning overhead into the night sky.
With a twitch of annoyance the Archer-Class quickly cedes half the ground he'd gained on his recent offensive, a large cracl showing in that hitherto perfect gilded armor of his. Running a finger lightly upon it, his grimace turns to a smile so effortlessly that it may inspire further ire from Saber on that alone, "First hit goes to you, Saber. Now -there's- the Lion I seek." He laughs, the air quaking with his latent prana, "Very well then, I shall cease toying with you."
Arrogant as the Golden King was, he would not have become the legend he is without a certain degree of instinctual cunning and cleverness. A force to be reckoned with by many even with his own swaggering overconfidence, he could become a true monster when taking his opponent seriously. This is the facet of his personality that shines forth as an perfectly shaped bow of calm white brilliance comes into his grip, "Your dominion over wind is rather troublesome." He regards Saber evenly, without mockery or flirtation, "I do not believe I shall allow you that continued advantage."
An arrow of fire comes to life with the burning fury of an inferno as the bowstring of Gandiva is drawn back to its terminus. He fires suddenly...not -at- Saber but at twinkling night sky, sending a thin but stark line of orange flame that reaches for the heavens, shining at the pinnacle of its ascent before bursting and raining back down upon the earth in a hail of flame that once terrified the denizens of Egypt as the seventh plague of Saber's own god once punished them.
Trees alight, grass erupts and wind recedes as the air around is consumed by a quickly growing and spreading firestorm. Wasting no further time, Gilgamesh advances upon Saber again as not one but -two- blades are pulled from his seemingly infinite stock. Joyeuse and Durandal shine like stars as their energies mingle together, swung in a full circle aimed to impact the blonde servant's side.
Saber took no pride in her successful strike; indeed, you could only rejoice once the battle was finished and -you- were not the one dead. That it was not critical likewise did not surprise her. It would take nothing short of a fully-charged strike from Excalibur--along with the invocation of its name as the sacred celestial sword of the legendary King of the Britons. But once more, she was left with no time to prepare that devastating attack.
So he was at last going to fight seriously. She supressed a scowl at that infuriating smile, another blow to her knightly pride that he had never taken her seriously as a warrior in spite of all his flowery speech to the contrary. It had simply been another way to mock the petite king as far as she was concerned. If he /truly/ thought that highly of her, he would have fought seriously from the beginning.
She easily dodged the rain of flames, but potential injury was far from the genuine problem. The wanton destruction of the landscape was troublesome enough, but with the raging fire consuming so much air, it drastically reduced her intuitive wind-summoning magic. Matters were made worse by her rapidly draining mana. Fighting the King of Heroes demanded everything from her--and that effort was beginning to take its toll. She had prepared well for the fight, consuming enough to last her for a battle of decent size. However, if things did not end soon, she may lose this war simply by forfeiting her mana-sustained existence.
As such, it was more difficult to avoid the twin swords bearing down on her. Blocking one and twisting to the side, Durendal nonetheless drew blood with an impressive gash along her right side. Leaping back out of sword's reach, her gauntled left hand clutched at her wound to stem the flow of blood, and a soft grunt escaped her lipsas she glared across the battlefield. Gilgamesh was at a definite advantage now, but she would not cede the battle. Either she would emerge victorious or she would die. There were no other options.
Gripping Excalibur in both her hands once more, Saber resumed her stance, preparing for another charge at the Golden King.
It had taken some time to track down the two quarreling kings, though the challenge broadcasted through the greater multiverse had been easy enough to track down. The Winter City had been anaccurate enough a descriptor, and the inclusion of the command seal had been a dead giveaway.
Rin Tohsaka remembered that symbol, red on the hand of Emiya Shirou. She had once worn one similar enough to it.
Strolling down the street, she's wearing her long skirt and rust-coloured blouse, a wool coat thrown over that. Hair left down, some of it trailing her movements as she walks briskly. Fairly inconspicuous. Nobody on the street particularly cares; they can look away. Cantrips to thank, for that. On the faintest level, she's pushing their attention away so she can employ her own Magecraft, searching for traces of mana.
When one knows how and where to look, one generally has an easy time of finding the likes of a Servant.
It doesn't take very much time for her to notice the towering shot of flame, or the smoke steadily darkening the sky nearby; the smell is unmistakable. It flickers and hails down in a hellstorm of fire.
Rin swears under her breath, and begins to run.
It takes her a little time to reach the clearing where the Servants are battling, winded and flailing her arms towards the King of Knights.
"Saber! Saber, you goddamn moron, what in the hell are you doing?!" She already has a fistful of gems, one clasped between each knuckle, ready to beat a hasty retreat. "Get out of there! You need to come back with me, to the Agency, /now/!"
She stands with arms braced, ready to fire a warning Gandr curse towards the King of Heroes, should she attract any unwanted attention from him. "You can't take care of him alone, and we need you somewhere else!"
The curse may not do much damage, but it will possibly take him off his guard... and in that time, she can expend one of her gems for the real strike. Hopefully it'll be enough time to seize Saber and drag the shorter King of Knights away -- but she isn't close enough for that, yet. Hopefully Saber can be convinced, right off.
It's gonna get ugly, if not.
Ah, now -there- was the sea of fire. It almost a proper reunion now. Like a shark, the sight and smell of blood as the Peerless Sword scores a rending hit excites the Golden King's zeal more than any artificial high. First hit went to her, but first blood belonged to him. "Are you regretting it now, a little?" He queries with a frustrating a grin, detecting the waning of her power, "Your obstinacy? Are ready yet to become my blush bring, O King of Knights?"
Without waiting for (Or expecting, truly) an answer, he'll keep himself a few paces back as well and guard, anticipating her charge to launch an effective counter attack.
And that's when some flailing, nonsense-spewing fool ruins everything.
As an Archer Class, Gilgamesh does not possess the level of magic defense that Saber boasts. He cannot simply cancel a spell out. But he -is- a servant nonetheless, and a slight tip of his head is all the movement he need muster to avoid a shot that was only loosely fired in his direction in the first place. "Filthy mongrel." He narrows his eyes, neither listening to a word Rin says nor caring, "You dare to throw such paltry power at me? You might as well throw garbage. Insolence!" His battle-joy was quickly converting to Kingly anger, "On top of that, you interrupt a war between Kings?! Your punishment will be swift..."
Fortunately for the magus, the sight of Saber's defiant form calms his stewing ire, reminding him of why he is here, "...But on account of this joyous day, I shall allow you a few more moments of life while I finish this. I shall even give you a sight your half-bred eyes are unworthy of beholding, such is my generosity!" The twin blades he wields vanish, as do any extant weapons adorning the forest from his initial volley against Saber. Converted back into their base form of prana, he would use all their power to bring forth his next weapon.
"Your modesty grows tiring, Saber!" Reaching back into the red embrace of Babylon's rift, the world pitches and yaws and protests as the next weapon makes its ominous arrival into reality. "Say the sacred name! Show me the power of humanity's finest blade!" A gold-lacquered hilt adorned with fine, blue cuneiform writing protrudes first, bringing along with it a pillar-shaped, thrice segmented blade darker than the blackest night save for glowing red runes etches into its surface. A suffocating power drowns out all extant prana in the era just by this weapon's very presence; This noble phantasm is one on a wholly different level from those thus seen. "You'd best not hold back, for I shall not!" Raising the unique blade to the sky, his always present grin has grown utterly feral, "Behold! The Sword of Rupture! The blade that only I, the King, may possess! Rejoice, fools, for the filth of the world shall be cleansed!"
"ENUMA...!!!!"
The tri-blades of Ea spin in counteractive motion, their speed and power exceeding the bounds of what is natural, of what ought to be. The world protests, but cannot resist, and the very fabric of existence -screams- with horror as the space around the unnatural occurrence, warps, twists and finally shatters under the strain of preserving itself. Time and space collapse; flames within several hundred yards of them are instantly snuffed out in all directions as air rushes back in to fill the void, the wound he has rent, is rending into space. A crimson spiral of pure destructive force whirls around the Sword of Rupture in perpetual cycle, begging to be unleashed.
(OOC Note: The teenager referred to in Archer's entry pose here is Soma Cruz, who allowed Archer to listen on the IPA radio frequency at the time so he could understand what was going on and set out, hence why it's in the text of the pose. Just to clear up any possible confusion!)
THEN...
Ushered in closer, the white haired man looked lightly skeptical at the teenager, almost folding his arms. Instead, he lightly rested a hand on his hip, studying the little piece of equipment before leaning in to listen with all the patience mustered from practice. There were some voices he didn't recognise, but one stood out starkly, enough like a slap in the face. He frowned deeply once he began to follow the conversation, features darkening with each passing moment.
Rin Tohsaka, icily, "I don't remember asking your opinion."
Mercade Alexander says, "Watch? Sure! You can help too. I'm not above calling for backup."
Maria Tegawa says, "Just...watch out for the chain."
Mercade Alexander says, "That's okay, Rin. I give it out for free."
Rin Tohsaka says, "You get what you pay for."
Rion Steiner says, "But we're just trying to help. This guy has hurt our friends, and killed people. So it's important to us, too."
Rion Steiner says, "You're smart, so you already understand why we're invested in this."
Kizuna Iyanagi says, "He is a threat to the people I protect and we already have enough problems."
Rin Tohsaka says, "Look, I've got a handle on it, okay? I'll holler if I need your help. I appreciate the effort; I really do, I just don't want everybody to go charging off willy-nilly when we're not even sure they're fighting, yet, you know? I'm sure there's other things that you guys could be focusing on."
NOW...
The wind swept in whole gusts, bringing with it the pervsive scent of ash and burning timber with it. The blaze of the conflagaration could be felt even here, warming the once naturally cool air that oft danced and played through the spires of the looming castle. This place had held much significance in the past, not the same naturally since this one had yet to be turned to rubble and shattered mended dreams. No blood stained its inner arching halls, and the life had been ripped asunder by clawed fingers or enmeshing chains. The sounds of fighting were muted here, only the flapping of his trail to acompany him. This Servant of black and red stood poised like a guardian gargoyle, lightly balanced with the grace of one unafraid of the heights that would spell death with the slightest mistep. And with a gaze that was unwaveringly trained on the twisting glow of crimson and ruddy orange... he raised his hand, a graceful swans-necked bow of stygian raised with it.
THEN...
Whatever doubt had washed away within a blink, and anyone who knew the man could tell he wasn't pleased by what he heard. Yet he didn't move, he remained where he was taking it all in-- the youth providing such information seemed perhaps to find some private enjoyment from it? The man didn't seem to be paying attention much to him nor his replies. He was focused on the voices--
...The final straw. Without another word, the older man spun on his heel and left the presence of the helpful teenager. No doubt there was more than just torment behind this action, everyone had a stake in this. And he was doing all that he could. The both of them.
NOW...
It all played out before him, the harkeningly similar enough to earn a sense of deja vu. He could see them, he could see each detail down to the glitter of the gems in the firelight, down to the tremor of reality that was threatened to be torn asunder. If, and only if it were allowed to fully reveal itself. A smile, however faint and cynical seeped onto the lone man's face, "I am the bone of my sword..." and he summoned without a second thought a blade that was beautiful as was it strange. Twisted and coiled, it flared to a golden-white too strong for mortal eyes to stare at for long, and this he placed upon the string of the unamed bow, drawing it all back with one smooth motion to his ear.
HERE...
It came without warning, no precident no invitation, the broken Phantasm Caladbolg aimed and sent true-- its destiny to impact not the King of Heroes, but the Heavenly blade he weilded. The backlash alone was enough to send a reverberating tremor in the immeadiate area, blasting those near with concussive force. It was unclear who the identity of the new attacker was to everyone present, except perhaps one. But it would be known-- it was another Servant. The Knight of Iron Forging, Archer was there now to lend a hand...to his old troubleseeking Master.
There was no regret from this battle. Saber had long ago accepted the call of a Servant, and was fully prepared to accept the cost of that contract should she be unsuccessful. Her only regret was for her people, for Britain --not her potential death at the hands of a madman. But even if she could not save them, at least the King of Heroes would not have what he longed for; to see her cowed and broken before him. He would have to kill her in order to defeat the Once and Future King.
She had hoped that no one from the Agency would find her until she had settled matters. But that hope was not to be fulfilled when she was unexpectedly addressed by one such person -- a girl, from the sound of her voice. The swordswoman could not afford to take her eyes from the battle before her, but much to her surprise, she noted the use of a rather familiar kind of magic. So the girl was a Magi. And her abilities were impressive for someone of her apparent age --even if what she had cast had been a simple distraction meant to take the King of Heroes's eyes away from his target. Which meant that, in all likelihood, she was a member of one of the old Magi families. That in turn meant that Saber could not trust her -- even if she worked with the Agency.
"Leave this place, Magus," she told the girl gently but firmly. "I must deal with him in the manner befitting a Servant. As a Magus, you know that it must be this way. Inform the Agency that I am dealing with the situation."
She scarcely had time to warn the young Magus before preparing for Gilgamesh's next attack. Her blue-green eyes widened briefly as she recognised the bizarre, ancient sword; as soon as she saw the hilt emerge from the glowing sea at his back, she began feeding as much mana as she could into Excalibur, its blade once again beginning to glow in a steadily-increasing golden sheen of holy light. Digging her heels into the ground, the knight readied herself, her lips parted to call upon the True Name of her Noble Phantasm to meet that black, nightmarish wave--
--when from behind her came an attack that was definitely /not/ her own. Out of her peripheral vision she glimsped the missile streaking overhead, rocketing towards her enemy at a speed that could only be achieved by a Servant. She did not dare turn to look, but she could feel the presence of another who had been called to Heaven's Feel. First a Magus, and now another Servant? What was even more surprising than their presence was how they were interfering with this duel in spite of the Association's rules. They seemed to be lending her their aid --but for what purpose?
"I've got to say, you're not much of a king." Rin stands with all the audacity and confidence she'd stood with in Einzbern Manor, even if she feels less of it on the inside. Gilgamesh is a force of nature. There's no denying that. "Half-bred. Don't you have any better insults? You say them like I actually care."
Actually, she's born of a celebrated bloodline of magi, but his insults are so trite that they're not even bothering her.
She folds her arms when he delivers his threat, narrowing her eyes. Fine. She'll let the King of Knights settle this quickly, but if there seems to be any sign of trouble, she's still fingering a full complement of cut topaz and emerald between her fingers.
She circles, quietly, slinking just past the treeline and using those first few trees to cover her approach. If she can get around behind Gilgamesh, she'll at least earn herself the element of surprise, even if not the strength. All she needs to do is stun him and get Saber out of here. By her estimates, they should be able to make it to the Gate without getting mangled too horribly. In and out, right?
Until, at least, Gilgamesh pulls that weapon from the vault. In a moment of abject, uncharacteristic astonishment, Rin's eyes widen and her jaw drops. What the hell? She may not be a Servant, but even she can feel the waves of power rushing from that thing.
She reaches up quickly to her radio, chattering /sotto voce/ but quickly. This is not looking good.
Obviously out of her element, Rin shrinks back against the nearest tree. "Awwww, hell... this isn't going to be--"
The impact of Enuma Elish is enough to throw her off her feet, flinging her against a tree like a ragdoll. She hits the trunk and slides down, stunned for a moment, before shaking her head and picking herself up from the ground. Somebody, please make the world stop spinning.
Still, that strike was valuable. Very valuable. It gave Archer away, since she had briefly noticed the trajectory of where that ruined Noble Phantasm had come in from. She knows, too, that it's more than likely Archer. Who else would fling a Noble Phantasm with such reckless abandon -- or expert aim? Had it been an unidentified Servant, they might well have aimed at Rin herself.
Perhaps emboldened by this fact, she leans against the nearest tree that isn't charred, holding onto it for balance.
She mutters under her breath, holding her head, which is till spinning infernally. The raw power eminating from Enuma Elish is making her sick to her stomach, and vertigo is trying to gnaw at her and make it worse. She glances up in time to see Saber... not recognise her at all. Magus though she may be, this Saber clearly has no recognition from her. Has she simply not met her yet? That does beg the question of where Emiya is, though.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Saber, it's me! Rin! Don't you tell me to back off! I thought we were going to handle this lunatic as a group!" She waves her arms, angrily, forcing herself up and straight out of sheer willpower. "You bone-headed moron, you can't deal with him alone! Nobody can!"
That might stroke Gilgamesh's ego a little, but it isn't meant in the way that it may be taken. Rin isn't concerned about his raw strength, she's concerned about his seemingly endless font of mana. Frustrated but unwilling to leak all the details, Rin can only rage impotently. After a moment, she's aware that Saber isn't even listening to her.
She sags back against the tree, huffing angrily, though her eyes are still on Gilgamesh, wary of what he might do. Her fists tighten around the gemstones between her fingers, and she sidles along again, trying to gain another advantage of position.
A quick murmur in German sets one of her gems, a brilliant square-cut topaz, to gleaming softly between her fingers; mana agitated at the command. She rubs her finger over it, transfers the other gems to her hand,
A quick murmur in German sets one of her gems, a brilliant square-cut topaz, to gleaming softly between her fingers; mana agitated at the command. She rubs her finger over it, transfers the other gems to her hand, and -- with an angry cry, flings it as hard as she can at the King of Heroes.
It may not have much effect to Gilgamesh, but it would be the equivalent of hurricane-force gales blasting into him, tearing at him like claws of wind. She's gained some power in her time at Clocktower, honing her senses and her skills. Notably, in fact; that gem is short several years of infused mana.
"Come /on/, you bone-headed moron! I'm creating an opportunity; let's get out while we can! Don't go all noble and stupid on me, here! The Gate's just a short hop away!" Rin tries to endeavour to the King of Knights, but it's probably falling on deaf ears. That, unfortunately, is just pissing her off even more.
Oh, she knows that Archer is there, but she hasn't yet seen him. Perhaps she's cunning enough not to give him away just yet. Likely Saber might take a hint from that calm treatment -- Rin is talented enough a magus to know what that strike signified. Those blue eyes do sweep the glade once -- just once -- to see if she can spot the Knight of Bows. She won't give him away until he's ready to really make an entrance.
Make it count, Archer, she wils, silently. This isn't going at all like she had planned. Her attempt to extract Saber had depended on the Servant recognising her, and that lack has blown this whole situation out of the water.
The potent, swirling, world-breaking power of Gilgamesh's one, true noble phantasm spins ever onwards, creating a more a powerful reaction the longer it endures. Seeing Saber about to respond in kind with the Sword of Promised Victory, the King of Heroes casts his disrupting weapon forward, the final invocation of his most powerful attack on his lips like a rarely tasted delicacy...
Except it does not come. Screaming faster than sound from the skies above, a shining golden bolt strikes Ea at the pinnacle of his swing. The intense prana stored within the false noble phantasm explodes on contact, beginning a hellish chain reaction with the Sword of Rupture as its power is unleashed prematurely and half-complete. At the same moment the Magus' gems strike true. Though their power is not as much compared to energies about to spin beyond control, they help the matter precisely none.
A brief expression of irritated surprise is visible on The Golden King's shining visage before he suddenly vanishes in an eclipsing, destructive meeting of powers, red and gold hues of energy dancing upon one another intimately in a hellish embrace as stray bolts that could fell entire buildings flail about indiscriminately, scorching the earth, tearing trees from their roots and lighting the sky above with arcane light visible for miles around. A full-blown investigation would no doubt soon be pending by the Association in the aftermath. Rin can thank her lucky stars it at least did not happen in a residential area this time.
Once that abyssal miasma of chaotic power ceases the warped and twisted visage of a formerly lush landscape remains. Scorched ground and trees smolders, too burnt for flames to even take them, though the light of the spreading fire still burns some distance away. Gilgamesh's smoking form can be spied not too far away; he has been knocked a good hundred yards back, a carved out trench of earth marking his forced trajectory. The nameless noble phantasm he wielded crackles with now-dormant power, its volatile motion ceased. His armor has been dulled and scorched in places, and the King of Heroes looks not -one- bit pleased.
"What....-blasphemer- wishes so dearly for death? Coward of a servant!" There was no doubt in his mind that it was another Servant's power that had just struck him, unable to think of anything else in his travels thus far that could conjure a force capable of doing such a thing to his sword. What's more, that weapon had felt...-familiar- somehow, though it was too fast for him to glimpse. He believed he knew it, but could not place it and the failure of his eyes to find this cowardly opponent only increased his frustration. "Tch." The warrior's instincts told him it would be disadvantageous to continue this affair at present, however much the King's sensibilities wished to refute it.
"It appears our reunion has become crowded, Saber." He sighs with some reluctance, dismissing his weapon to the opulence of Uruk's get, "This mongrel and whatever half-rate servant are skulking around have ruined the mood. I'll allow them to live on account of this day's celebration despite their impudence...for now." Scarlet eyes narrow, searching the space he believed that attack to have come from, "But I -shall- return to claim them at a later date. For now, spend your remaining days in the shadow of your certain death."
Tilting his head, the Hero-King offers one last smile to Saber, "As for you, King of Knights, do take care of yourself. I will not wait on your answer forever...but I -shall- wait. Until our next meeting, I suggest you prepare yourself for the rigors of holy matrimony. Meet me at the Tower Karazhan, upon the world called Azeroth, when you are ready. I will receive you in splendor."
No sooner than the last syllable of his offer is uttered is the Sumerian's presence gone from the physical world, vanishing with the same condescending demeanor he'd strode in on, regardless of how events turned out. Yet the land bears of the burden of his presence and power, of Saber'
No sooner than the last syllable of his offer is uttered is the Sumerian's presence gone from the physical world, vanishing with the same condescending demeanor he'd strode in on, regardless of how events turned out. Yet the land bears of the burden of his presence and power, of Saber's and the unseen Bowyer's as well. It will take time for it to heal.
The bow remained lifted, keen grey-brown eyes still transfixed on the resulting escalation. He appeared to be searching for something, and only when he found it would he dismiss the elegant weapon with a release of his fingers. One might expect the Servant would hurry on down, rush to the continued aid of his old Master, especially since she was going to be worse for wear after suffering through being that near to the explosion. Yet he didn't. Archer was satisfied that Gilgamesh had retreated without successfully using his prized blade, but when he confronted Rin he would do it on...his own terms. She didn't posess sight strong enough to ferret him out. As for Saber-- that could wait. "And to think retirement was getting comfortably boring." His words were swept away as soon as he spoke them by the heated winds. He smirked, then waited. Promising to oversee their depature to safety, and then...
And then.
Saber could not help but feel some frustration at the turn in situation. While she did not feel compelled to protect the mysterious Servant at her back, the Magus was another matter entirely. She may have been injured from the simple pull of Ea's field alone, and her morality demanded that she protect the girl, even if she was not her Master. It had been quite fortunate indeed that the Golden King's attention was focused almost exclusively on the tiny swordswoman. But if the Agency Magus became too much of a nuisance, he might decide that tolerating her presence was not worth the annoyance. Did this girl not understand just how little he thought of every living being?
But on a practical level, human presence meant that this battle would fall to the arrogant First-King. She could not simultaneously go on the complete offensive against him while guarding another. If she could not persuade the Magus to leave the battlefield quietly, she understood all too well that victory would be lost to her. And while the Magus herself continued to plead for Saber to retreat, her pride and honour as well as the will to see his tyranny brought to a halt demanded that she refuse.
"It is too late to retreat," she replied quietly. She was an odd Magus indeed if she could not understand that. If she truly had known Saber previously, she would have understood the sense of duty she carried on her petite shoulders.
And yet, she was becoming quite adamant that Saber /should/ have recognised her. She suppressed a grimace. This business of multiple versions of herself was becoming quite troublesome.
"I assume you knew my predecessor," she told Rin evenly, her face betraying only concentration, the sharpness of green eyes focused on her opponent. "I can assure you that I am not she."
Still, the girl's next attack --right on the heels of the projectile from the unknown Servant-- had been no small feat to achieve. It completely halted the oncoming attack from the King of Heroes and rendered Ea useless for the moment. One of Gilgamesh's most easily-exploited weaknesses was his overconfidence, and the two had used that to full advantage, whether intentionally or not. Their combined attack had made her counterattack pointless; though she had been poised to unleash the full power of Excalibur upon him, she refused to act with dishonour and strike upon interference from interlopers. The light of the holy sword gradually faded away as she withdrew her mana from it, the polished sheen reflecting the light of the fires around the battlefield. But she dared not dismiss it while still in the presence of her hated enemy.
She was speechless. Utterly speechless; this was the /second/ time she had blatantly refused him, and yet he -still- insisted that she was merely being modest or indecisive? Saber could only glare at him, sea-green eyes alit with unbridled and naked fury. His self-assured smile alone was almost enough for her to begin feeding mana into Excalibur once more, consequences be damned. Every fibre of her being screamed out for his head this very instant, but fortunately for her frame of mind as well as her continued existence, he was gone. And the King of Heroes left in his wake the same destruction he always had, and an invitation she only intended to honour with Excalibur in hand and armour on her back.
She was torn between being grateful for the reprive-- albeit somewhat reluctantly -- and frustrated that her honour as a knight had been tarnished somwhat. She had promised Gilgamesh a duel between Kings, and chivalry demanded that promises be kept. Even to one as despicable as the King of Heroes. However, it was probably just as well. Not only was her mana becoming dangerously low without a source to tap into, but with the presence of the interlopers, she did not dare invoke Excalibur's name and thus reveal her true identity. Even if there was no need to do so, Saber wished only to be known in this collection of worlds as a simple knight. Her days as a king were long since passed, and though she continued to conduct her affairs as a proper king should, she wanted no reminders of it.
With Gilgamesh, as well as the hidden Servant, now gone from the scene, she could focus on the new problems which had been presented. She had dismissed Excalibur as soon as she could no longer sense his presence, concentrating on her wound to begin regenerating, using only just enough mana to induce the healing process. Once done, she replaced the armour of a calm expression once more over her face, her eyes scrutinising the young Magus.
"Now then," she spoke after a moment, not mincing words and getting straight to business. "Are you the Master of that other Servant?"
Where: Fuyuki City, Japan
What: Incensed by Gilgamesh's rampage across worlds, Saber broadcasts a challenge she believes only he will recognize, meeting in the city where everything began. His overjoyed to found her, though the King of Knights is less so. And amidst it all, it turns out more were able to decipher Saber's cryptic message than anticipated..
Watch For: Noble Phantasms around, including a near Mexican stand-off between Gil's own true weapon Ea, The Sword of Rupture, and Saber's Excalibur until -someone- messes it all up >:|.
The last light of the day faded slowly as the sun dipped below the horizon of Fuyuki City, the red hues fading into the violet of dusk. The full moon had already begun to rise as if chasing after it, destined never to catch the fleeting golden light. Or perhaps it had been the one fleeing the scorching sun, following on its trail to escape being caught itself. Who could say, really?
The rumbling purr of an engine shattered the stillness of the early evening, the growl of a mechanical beast that bore its rider to the scene, bathed in the pale white light reflected off its metallic skin. It was a remote enough place--a good distance from Fuyuki's residential area with level ground and few distractions. An ideal location for the deadly game that was about to begin.
Bringing the motorcycle to a halt, the rider paused, subtly scanning the area before dismounting. With a fluid motion, she stripped off her helmet, revealing the blonde hair pulled away from her girlish face and sharp blue-green eyes that glittered in the faint light as she continued to observe the soon-to-be battlefield.
Silently, she offered up a prayer to her Lord. Here is where it would end -- one way or the other. And it was almost time for the final game to begin.
Several minutes pass by once the first participant of this evening's festivities arrives, several minutes in which the air remains calm, still and unobtrusive. Where could that second one be, the nebulous King of Heroes? Had he believed it a hoax (surely not)? Had a trap been set? Or was he simply waiting, admiring the moment, spying her with an envious eye from afar? An unmistakable voice carried on the wind shall soon answer the question.
"My bounty is as deep as the sea..."
There is no visible body that can yet be attached to that voice, for it seems come from several directions. Some trick, some artifact? Or perhaps a natural talent the owner had rare cause to use? He does not seem particularly undeterred, for the wind continues to blow.
"My love as deep; the more I give to thee..."
The wind crests and rises, blowing at a level unanticipated for the weather, nearby trees swaying in the fury. This is surely not a natural phenomenon, made only more frustrating by the continued soliloquy. An educated soul may surely recognize it now as borrowed from the works of England's most famous bard.
"The more I have, for both are infinite."
As the sun has faded, the full moon now hangs in the sky illuminating the deserted area with its pale light, exposing that which is hidden, which is secret. There, poised delicately atop a stalwart oak, stands a familiar figure in golden armor. The first language of man decorates him in blue-painted symbols, his crimson gaze falling with unbidden longing and eagerness upon the object of his quest; The woman for which he has torn worlds and lives apart.
"Such is my love, to thee I so belong..." He continues, a hitherto unseen bounded book of some manner held open in his hand, though he gazes not even a little towards it. His eyes do not leave the blonde swordswoman, "That for thy right myself will bear all wrong." One hand closes the tome with a snap that seems to quiet the stirring wind, the book vanishing in a ripple of air the second it has been shut. There is only the two of them. His eyes stare with an intensity that would demand lesser souls to look away. She was as beautiful and regal as ever. An expectant, warm smile spread across his features, but the inviting look of his passionate eyes could not hide the hunger of an unsated beast, a creature long-starved.
"Saber."
If it had been anyone else, those words might have had some meaning behind them, some gentleness of soul. But no. Not when spoken by the only one who had ever earned the full brunt of her enmity. He made a very mockery of them, using them however way he saw fit with no heed to what they truly meant. But then, so to in everything. There was not a single thing in any world that was not some toy for his amusement. Oh, how she /despised/ him.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, and without a single turn of her head they cast about searching for the source of that ethereal voice. A trick, then? He had always seemed to enjoy tormenting her. Well, she would grace him with the satisfaction.
Her face remained carved from stone, resisting the anger that roiled beneath the surface.
She met that burning crimson gaze directly and without even the slightest flinch. She was far too angry to ever look away, and she wanted him to know that she would /never/ yield a single inch to him.
"Gilgamesh." In spite of the deceptive calm of her face, she spoke his name like a curse.
"O King of Knights, how I have missed you." Dropping from his perch with ease, Gilgamesh makes nary a sound as he touches upon the ground. Saber was one of the few upon which he would relinquish his natural status above willingly and without hesitation, "You've not changed a bit since the day of our battlesince the day this pathetic city was consumed in flames." Ah, simply looking at her put him back in the midst of those glorious days, bringing his wrath down upon fools and conquering foes. He could feel the heat of the flames once more, the burning of his blood! The King of Heroes finds no small sense of irony in the fact that his search should end in the very city he'd discarded to begin it.
"I've had quite a few since then, as you've no doubt seen...yet none have been the same. None have even approached the level of our war." His smile shows deceptively white teeth, "Countless worlds, unrestricted freedom...and scarcely a single worthy opponent. But that has ended today." Hand planted firmly on his hip, he'll fit her with a haughty smirk, "Though truth be told, I did not think you'd tolerate so much desecration before appearing. This is good, for there will be so much more after we are wed."
Ah, yes, that was right. "Speaking of which, I have waited long enough." He has summoned no weapon as yet, the air does not even faintly whirl around him, "I made my decision back then...I am still waiting for yours, Saber."
With so little effort on his part, the armour cracked. Not as much as it could have, but it was enough to glimpse the fires of rage lurking beneath. His lust for death and destruction was truly an abomination. She quickly and carefully assembled her expression into an impassive one--or as impassive as she was able to, given her building rage. While he had somehow been deemed worthy to become a Heroic Spirit, the rot was apparent to the King of Knights. "How far you have fallen, King of Heroes. How very far."
But her rage was not to be concealed long. Her eyes widened at mention of the devastation he had caused--and revelled in. She had been told of it before, but to hear the obvious pleasure in his voice at what he had wrought --along with his assumption of marriage-- sickened her almost to the point of physical illness. "You pitiful man--how disgusting you are," she spat.
Her answer to his demand was immediate. Gone were here riding clothes, replaced by the armour she had worn as both Servant and King. The air between her hands distorted the light around the sword she summoned to her hands, concealing it completely. She levelled the invisible blade at him, her fury reflected in every part of her being.
"Here is my answer, King of Heroes!"
For all the anger Saber manages to muster, Gilgamesh seems positively droll. The meaning of the word 'hero' had so changed over the eons that he scarcely recognized it anymore...nor did he care to. Whatever the mongrels of this current day, and even of Saber's own time seemed to think...it was quite clear the world itself stood by his own definition when it chose to elevate a soul to the Throne. "Fallen?" His eyes lid slightly. Were she anyone else, he'd punish such insolence, "I have done no such thing. Every act you witness was due justice brought to bear by myself as recompense for the numerous offenses the mongrels of these worlds insist on visiting upon me. They have none but their own folly to blame."
But he did not come here to argue over such scruples with her. They'd already -had- that session, along with the King of Conquerors. His thoughts on the matter were known, and he would see her bent to them. "That defiant spirit..." He laughs, elated at her revulsion, "It is nothing less than what I expect! That willfulness, that fury! Those are the qualities for which I chose you! I am so glad your blade has not dulled in the years, Saber." His demeanor has grown no less excitable for her disdain, brows raising a touch at her proclamation, "That's the same answer you gave me before. It will not do...but if you further convincing, so be it." Crossing his arms, the Sumerian wears an expression of supreme confidence and approval in events thus far, "Gate of Babylon."
The unseen gate opens to a curtain of red behind him, the creak of reality giving way to that which should not be there as the hoard of a King ripples into existence around him. The treasury of Uruk shines in all its glory, prepared to meet Saber's unseen blade. "As a King, I must treat you no differently from another in this respect." The Golden King makes his proclamation as haughtily as he could, casting a golden arm outwards, "Only the worthy may approach my person. Do your best, Saber."
The assembled weapons streak forth in a cohesive thicket of blades prepared to pierce limb, life and whatever else may be there. The torrent is Saber's to fight through; The trial she must overcome before Gilgamesh will deign to honor even her with single combat.
She'd had quite enough of that mockery, and the people in all the worlds he had crushed carelessly under his heel had certainly had enough suffering. The time for talking was long past. She would end it or else disappear in the effort.
She had anticipated the opening of the Gate of Babylon, but the hail of blades would not stay her hand. With the seemingly effortless grace of a dancer and all the speed of the highest class of Servant, she wove her way through the deadly rain, deflecting what swords were directly in her path with Excalibur. Closing the distance between them was the only way Saber could effectively fight him on equal terms.
She was but a few feet from him in merely seconds, the concealed sword coming to bear down on him and threatening to cleave him from shoulder to hip. The only sound she made through it all was the battle yell she now let loose with her attack.
Gilgamesh seems utterly entranced by Saber's movements as she weaves in and out of the steel storm that has decimated cities, armies and everything under the sky. Not a step of her path is wasted, not a swing of the blade without thought. To him, she was smooth, flowing, unforgiving perfection. He could not have asked for a greater queen, for a more valuable treasure. Had he not dreamt this, once or twice? Was he in a waking dream even now? The King of Heroes was no longer sure, but hoped it would not end.
So taken is he, in fact, that he has nearly not noticed his fellow servant coming close enough to strike at him. Still, he is a warrior as much as he is a king, and it is those natural instincts that prevent him from being struck down where he stands. Steel rings against steel as a fine blade is conjured within the ancient king's hand to meet the unseen sword in a clash that splits the very air, wind rushing in to fill the sudden vacuum with a fury that belies the battle now unfolding.
" Excellent, Saber!" He comments with a savage smile, using his superior height and considerable strength in an attempt to force the might of Excalibur back with but one arm, to see her knees buckle before him. "I see you've lost none of that bite...I can waste my time no more amongst mongrels and pretenders. Finally, a true battle between servants!" A careful step back is all it takes to give him enough room for reprisal, which takes the form of several powerful, relentless blows that aim to put the once high King of Camelot on the defensive. Strong as they are, they are not reckless; Each blow is aimed and guided by the preternatural awareness of a man out of more savage times. Though they may lack the level of refinement and discipline inherent in Saber's technique, they are far from wild.
"What's the matter?" He'll query with humor in between blows, "You hide that sword of yours behind an illusion as it were something to keep beneath your skirts." His eagerness only underscores his unrestrained licentiousness, "We both know what you wield, Arturia!""
The expression of concentration twists into naked disgust even as she deftly blocks his blows. From her perspective, it had been merely days since she last fought him, and so she had lost little of whatever edge she held against the Golden King. But the relentless attack forced her on the defencive, and if she did not find a way to turn that tide, she would not be victorious. And she had to time it precisely; not even a fraction of a second could she afford to lose.
"You--"
As one blow was carefully deflected and another began, she ducked, pulling her sword back with lightning speed over her head and forming an arc around her body. Using the resulting momentum, she swung the full might of Excalibur up towards his midsection for what would be a definitive killing blow to a mere mortal man.
"--/Talk too much/!"
Yet while Saber had seen him merely days before, Gilgamesh had languished for years in the decadent filth of the modern world before discovering the same gate Saber fell through. Realizing there could have been a chance, a slim possibility she had not faded at the end of the war, but was merely lost...there was no way he could have stayed put. Even though their arrivals had been held at the whim of time and space, possessing this knowledge wouldn't matter in the slightest to the King of Heroes. She was Saber, the last incarnation of her had seen...for all intents and purposes, she was -his- Saber. All of them were.
Each blow she parries, each strike she meets only stokes the fires of his desire, inspiring ever bolder attacks. His footwork guides him in a predatory circle around the diminutive King as their dance grows ever deadlier. He in fact does -not- speak for several moments, content to savor the intimacy of their battle, the determination in her aquamarine eyes, the unblemished vision of her perfectly sculpted face. When h meets that final, powerful blow that would separate a mere mortal's torsos permanently, his blade does not merely ring. He has chosen an inferior sword to face the might of Excalibur, and it announces this offence by shattering the nameless sword into several steel fragments, its power broken by the force of Saber's blow.
"Hmph." Instinctively leaping back, Gilgamesh offers a temporary distance between himself and his chosen bride. Hidden while they fought, the armory of the Golden King shows its pointed, gleaming face as another blade is retrieved, this one holding a greater power than the first. Merodach, the Original Sin, the source of Saber's former blade Caliburn as well as several others. The unholy power of this sword crackles with darkness, the King of Heroes seeming as comfortable with it as any other blade. "Methinks the maiden doth protest too much." Is all he offers in response to the fellows King's chiding, for now.
With an eager battle cry he'll rush back in, closing with Saber in a speed only a servant could be capable of. He'll bring that devilish sword down overhead with one arm and the strength of a demigod, following up with forward push attempting to knock the Once
Gilgamesh's banter was awarded with a soft 'tche' of disapproval. Everything about him was beyond infuriating - but she could not afford to lose her focus now. Defeating him would demand that she bury her loathing of him temporarily to give this battle her full concentration. As abominable as he was, the King of Heroes was not an opponent to be taken lightly. She knew that all too well.
She had to be light on her feet to be able to take full advantage of the agility of her class, when fractions of a second were all the difference between a successful blow or a crushing defeat. Her short stature made this easy; she could easily turn and use the torque of that spin to add even more power to her mana-fueled strength, and just as easily change directions, even in midair. However, against raw power when she could not simply dodge, she was at a clear disadvantage.
As Excalibur greeted its predecessor, Saber grunted softly, her left foot sliding back to stablilise her and keep her rooted to the ground. But under that onslaught, she was pushed back, her tiny, nimble body no match for that strength.
But she would not yield, and the air around Excalibur quickened as she prepared for a release of mana through the blade, exposing it and hopefully pushing him back just far enough to give her some room to manoeuvre.
The ever-present hubris of mankind's first king expresses itself to deadly effect in every swing Gilgamesh makes. He'll lean in with all his strength into each blow, every step Saber retreats limning a growing sense of perverse, gleeful satisfaction on the Hero-King's face. "What an appropriate reunion!" He remarks, not intending to give her even a moment's spite from his flurry of blows, "The ring of battle, the song of blades!" Merodach surged with an unwelcoming energy, the elder blade thrilled to clash with an upstart comparative newcomer, nearly as giddy as its own wielder, "The only thing we're missing is a sea of fire."
Oh well, you could not have everything...at least, not all at once. The small size of his opponent can put him at a disadvantage; Attempting to land a hit on Saber at even this range is like trying to cut apart the very wind itself as the deftly moving King of Knights ducks and weaves through each scything swing with the tempestuous grace one might expect of the aforementioned element, when she wasn't simply parrying them. Yet Gilgamesh is afforded an advantage of his own by his superior height; Able to exert all his strength downwards upon the head of his foe, he likely need make but one direct, decisive hit to gain the firm upper hand in this battle. Saber had to swing up to hit him, generally; The earth they fought upon would steal the edge from her own strength.
Still, this fact did not provide the Golden King with so much help when Arturia invoked her mana burst. The golden blade gleams, if but for a moment, and a gale force that could fell a modern house buffets the Archer-Class servant head-on. "Gh..!" Blown several paces back the fury of that blow, he staggers back even further as the weaker trees in the vicinity fall around him, Merodach held up in a weak-looking guard. Saber has at least two visible choices now: Take advantage of the opening, or steel herself for the inevitable counterattack.
While Gilgamesh revelled in the battle, the King of Knights only wished for it to be brought to a swift end, preferably with herself the victor. And she wished for it almost as if to simply make him be quiet, a current of frustration running underneath her concentration. He had nearly landed several successful blows due to that. Gritting her teeth, she willed her anger down deliberately lest she lose more than just ground to him.
Her next move was alomst a desperate gamble, but that gamble had paid off; with her mana-fueled light attack, the King of Heroes had been caught off-guard. Saber had not put a great deal of power into it; the move was intended more as a distraction than to cause much harm. It would take far more than a simple flare of mana to burn through the golden armour. She would not waste the opportunity.
The King of Knights did not have the time to simply stand and build up her mana for a greater attack, so she would have to allow it to build while simultaneously moving forward. Charging forward at full-speed with Excalibur's now-exposed blade lit like a falling star, Saber lunged at the First King of mankind to deliver a crushing, magic-powered overhead blow.
Being the source of a given weapon's myth was not always a sure-all method of victory. It was possible for a weapon to become famous to a degree that it replaced its own original sources, rendering its predecessor useless against it in battle. In Merodach's case, the link to Excalibur was weak in the first place, and while it may be known as 'The Strongest Unholy Sword', the fame of its polar opposite was just too great to stand against. Catching the King of Heroes with his guard down only further exacerbates the problem; Even the blade's dragon-slaying property does not help it against Saber when the shining blade comes to bear. There is not even a struggle; Merodach is torn from Gilgamesh's grip like an infant's rattler and sails spinning overhead into the night sky.
With a twitch of annoyance the Archer-Class quickly cedes half the ground he'd gained on his recent offensive, a large cracl showing in that hitherto perfect gilded armor of his. Running a finger lightly upon it, his grimace turns to a smile so effortlessly that it may inspire further ire from Saber on that alone, "First hit goes to you, Saber. Now -there's- the Lion I seek." He laughs, the air quaking with his latent prana, "Very well then, I shall cease toying with you."
Arrogant as the Golden King was, he would not have become the legend he is without a certain degree of instinctual cunning and cleverness. A force to be reckoned with by many even with his own swaggering overconfidence, he could become a true monster when taking his opponent seriously. This is the facet of his personality that shines forth as an perfectly shaped bow of calm white brilliance comes into his grip, "Your dominion over wind is rather troublesome." He regards Saber evenly, without mockery or flirtation, "I do not believe I shall allow you that continued advantage."
An arrow of fire comes to life with the burning fury of an inferno as the bowstring of Gandiva is drawn back to its terminus. He fires suddenly...not -at- Saber but at twinkling night sky, sending a thin but stark line of orange flame that reaches for the heavens, shining at the pinnacle of its ascent before bursting and raining back down upon the earth in a hail of flame that once terrified the denizens of Egypt as the seventh plague of Saber's own god once punished them.
Trees alight, grass erupts and wind recedes as the air around is consumed by a quickly growing and spreading firestorm. Wasting no further time, Gilgamesh advances upon Saber again as not one but -two- blades are pulled from his seemingly infinite stock. Joyeuse and Durandal shine like stars as their energies mingle together, swung in a full circle aimed to impact the blonde servant's side.
Saber took no pride in her successful strike; indeed, you could only rejoice once the battle was finished and -you- were not the one dead. That it was not critical likewise did not surprise her. It would take nothing short of a fully-charged strike from Excalibur--along with the invocation of its name as the sacred celestial sword of the legendary King of the Britons. But once more, she was left with no time to prepare that devastating attack.
So he was at last going to fight seriously. She supressed a scowl at that infuriating smile, another blow to her knightly pride that he had never taken her seriously as a warrior in spite of all his flowery speech to the contrary. It had simply been another way to mock the petite king as far as she was concerned. If he /truly/ thought that highly of her, he would have fought seriously from the beginning.
She easily dodged the rain of flames, but potential injury was far from the genuine problem. The wanton destruction of the landscape was troublesome enough, but with the raging fire consuming so much air, it drastically reduced her intuitive wind-summoning magic. Matters were made worse by her rapidly draining mana. Fighting the King of Heroes demanded everything from her--and that effort was beginning to take its toll. She had prepared well for the fight, consuming enough to last her for a battle of decent size. However, if things did not end soon, she may lose this war simply by forfeiting her mana-sustained existence.
As such, it was more difficult to avoid the twin swords bearing down on her. Blocking one and twisting to the side, Durendal nonetheless drew blood with an impressive gash along her right side. Leaping back out of sword's reach, her gauntled left hand clutched at her wound to stem the flow of blood, and a soft grunt escaped her lipsas she glared across the battlefield. Gilgamesh was at a definite advantage now, but she would not cede the battle. Either she would emerge victorious or she would die. There were no other options.
Gripping Excalibur in both her hands once more, Saber resumed her stance, preparing for another charge at the Golden King.
It had taken some time to track down the two quarreling kings, though the challenge broadcasted through the greater multiverse had been easy enough to track down. The Winter City had been anaccurate enough a descriptor, and the inclusion of the command seal had been a dead giveaway.
Rin Tohsaka remembered that symbol, red on the hand of Emiya Shirou. She had once worn one similar enough to it.
Strolling down the street, she's wearing her long skirt and rust-coloured blouse, a wool coat thrown over that. Hair left down, some of it trailing her movements as she walks briskly. Fairly inconspicuous. Nobody on the street particularly cares; they can look away. Cantrips to thank, for that. On the faintest level, she's pushing their attention away so she can employ her own Magecraft, searching for traces of mana.
When one knows how and where to look, one generally has an easy time of finding the likes of a Servant.
It doesn't take very much time for her to notice the towering shot of flame, or the smoke steadily darkening the sky nearby; the smell is unmistakable. It flickers and hails down in a hellstorm of fire.
Rin swears under her breath, and begins to run.
It takes her a little time to reach the clearing where the Servants are battling, winded and flailing her arms towards the King of Knights.
"Saber! Saber, you goddamn moron, what in the hell are you doing?!" She already has a fistful of gems, one clasped between each knuckle, ready to beat a hasty retreat. "Get out of there! You need to come back with me, to the Agency, /now/!"
She stands with arms braced, ready to fire a warning Gandr curse towards the King of Heroes, should she attract any unwanted attention from him. "You can't take care of him alone, and we need you somewhere else!"
The curse may not do much damage, but it will possibly take him off his guard... and in that time, she can expend one of her gems for the real strike. Hopefully it'll be enough time to seize Saber and drag the shorter King of Knights away -- but she isn't close enough for that, yet. Hopefully Saber can be convinced, right off.
It's gonna get ugly, if not.
Ah, now -there- was the sea of fire. It almost a proper reunion now. Like a shark, the sight and smell of blood as the Peerless Sword scores a rending hit excites the Golden King's zeal more than any artificial high. First hit went to her, but first blood belonged to him. "Are you regretting it now, a little?" He queries with a frustrating a grin, detecting the waning of her power, "Your obstinacy? Are ready yet to become my blush bring, O King of Knights?"
Without waiting for (Or expecting, truly) an answer, he'll keep himself a few paces back as well and guard, anticipating her charge to launch an effective counter attack.
And that's when some flailing, nonsense-spewing fool ruins everything.
As an Archer Class, Gilgamesh does not possess the level of magic defense that Saber boasts. He cannot simply cancel a spell out. But he -is- a servant nonetheless, and a slight tip of his head is all the movement he need muster to avoid a shot that was only loosely fired in his direction in the first place. "Filthy mongrel." He narrows his eyes, neither listening to a word Rin says nor caring, "You dare to throw such paltry power at me? You might as well throw garbage. Insolence!" His battle-joy was quickly converting to Kingly anger, "On top of that, you interrupt a war between Kings?! Your punishment will be swift..."
Fortunately for the magus, the sight of Saber's defiant form calms his stewing ire, reminding him of why he is here, "...But on account of this joyous day, I shall allow you a few more moments of life while I finish this. I shall even give you a sight your half-bred eyes are unworthy of beholding, such is my generosity!" The twin blades he wields vanish, as do any extant weapons adorning the forest from his initial volley against Saber. Converted back into their base form of prana, he would use all their power to bring forth his next weapon.
"Your modesty grows tiring, Saber!" Reaching back into the red embrace of Babylon's rift, the world pitches and yaws and protests as the next weapon makes its ominous arrival into reality. "Say the sacred name! Show me the power of humanity's finest blade!" A gold-lacquered hilt adorned with fine, blue cuneiform writing protrudes first, bringing along with it a pillar-shaped, thrice segmented blade darker than the blackest night save for glowing red runes etches into its surface. A suffocating power drowns out all extant prana in the era just by this weapon's very presence; This noble phantasm is one on a wholly different level from those thus seen. "You'd best not hold back, for I shall not!" Raising the unique blade to the sky, his always present grin has grown utterly feral, "Behold! The Sword of Rupture! The blade that only I, the King, may possess! Rejoice, fools, for the filth of the world shall be cleansed!"
"ENUMA...!!!!"
The tri-blades of Ea spin in counteractive motion, their speed and power exceeding the bounds of what is natural, of what ought to be. The world protests, but cannot resist, and the very fabric of existence -screams- with horror as the space around the unnatural occurrence, warps, twists and finally shatters under the strain of preserving itself. Time and space collapse; flames within several hundred yards of them are instantly snuffed out in all directions as air rushes back in to fill the void, the wound he has rent, is rending into space. A crimson spiral of pure destructive force whirls around the Sword of Rupture in perpetual cycle, begging to be unleashed.
(OOC Note: The teenager referred to in Archer's entry pose here is Soma Cruz, who allowed Archer to listen on the IPA radio frequency at the time so he could understand what was going on and set out, hence why it's in the text of the pose. Just to clear up any possible confusion!)
THEN...
Ushered in closer, the white haired man looked lightly skeptical at the teenager, almost folding his arms. Instead, he lightly rested a hand on his hip, studying the little piece of equipment before leaning in to listen with all the patience mustered from practice. There were some voices he didn't recognise, but one stood out starkly, enough like a slap in the face. He frowned deeply once he began to follow the conversation, features darkening with each passing moment.
Rin Tohsaka, icily, "I don't remember asking your opinion."
Mercade Alexander says, "Watch? Sure! You can help too. I'm not above calling for backup."
Maria Tegawa says, "Just...watch out for the chain."
Mercade Alexander says, "That's okay, Rin. I give it out for free."
Rin Tohsaka says, "You get what you pay for."
Rion Steiner says, "But we're just trying to help. This guy has hurt our friends, and killed people. So it's important to us, too."
Rion Steiner says, "You're smart, so you already understand why we're invested in this."
Kizuna Iyanagi says, "He is a threat to the people I protect and we already have enough problems."
Rin Tohsaka says, "Look, I've got a handle on it, okay? I'll holler if I need your help. I appreciate the effort; I really do, I just don't want everybody to go charging off willy-nilly when we're not even sure they're fighting, yet, you know? I'm sure there's other things that you guys could be focusing on."
NOW...
The wind swept in whole gusts, bringing with it the pervsive scent of ash and burning timber with it. The blaze of the conflagaration could be felt even here, warming the once naturally cool air that oft danced and played through the spires of the looming castle. This place had held much significance in the past, not the same naturally since this one had yet to be turned to rubble and shattered mended dreams. No blood stained its inner arching halls, and the life had been ripped asunder by clawed fingers or enmeshing chains. The sounds of fighting were muted here, only the flapping of his trail to acompany him. This Servant of black and red stood poised like a guardian gargoyle, lightly balanced with the grace of one unafraid of the heights that would spell death with the slightest mistep. And with a gaze that was unwaveringly trained on the twisting glow of crimson and ruddy orange... he raised his hand, a graceful swans-necked bow of stygian raised with it.
THEN...
Whatever doubt had washed away within a blink, and anyone who knew the man could tell he wasn't pleased by what he heard. Yet he didn't move, he remained where he was taking it all in-- the youth providing such information seemed perhaps to find some private enjoyment from it? The man didn't seem to be paying attention much to him nor his replies. He was focused on the voices--
...The final straw. Without another word, the older man spun on his heel and left the presence of the helpful teenager. No doubt there was more than just torment behind this action, everyone had a stake in this. And he was doing all that he could. The both of them.
NOW...
It all played out before him, the harkeningly similar enough to earn a sense of deja vu. He could see them, he could see each detail down to the glitter of the gems in the firelight, down to the tremor of reality that was threatened to be torn asunder. If, and only if it were allowed to fully reveal itself. A smile, however faint and cynical seeped onto the lone man's face, "I am the bone of my sword..." and he summoned without a second thought a blade that was beautiful as was it strange. Twisted and coiled, it flared to a golden-white too strong for mortal eyes to stare at for long, and this he placed upon the string of the unamed bow, drawing it all back with one smooth motion to his ear.
HERE...
It came without warning, no precident no invitation, the broken Phantasm Caladbolg aimed and sent true-- its destiny to impact not the King of Heroes, but the Heavenly blade he weilded. The backlash alone was enough to send a reverberating tremor in the immeadiate area, blasting those near with concussive force. It was unclear who the identity of the new attacker was to everyone present, except perhaps one. But it would be known-- it was another Servant. The Knight of Iron Forging, Archer was there now to lend a hand...to his old troubleseeking Master.
There was no regret from this battle. Saber had long ago accepted the call of a Servant, and was fully prepared to accept the cost of that contract should she be unsuccessful. Her only regret was for her people, for Britain --not her potential death at the hands of a madman. But even if she could not save them, at least the King of Heroes would not have what he longed for; to see her cowed and broken before him. He would have to kill her in order to defeat the Once and Future King.
She had hoped that no one from the Agency would find her until she had settled matters. But that hope was not to be fulfilled when she was unexpectedly addressed by one such person -- a girl, from the sound of her voice. The swordswoman could not afford to take her eyes from the battle before her, but much to her surprise, she noted the use of a rather familiar kind of magic. So the girl was a Magi. And her abilities were impressive for someone of her apparent age --even if what she had cast had been a simple distraction meant to take the King of Heroes's eyes away from his target. Which meant that, in all likelihood, she was a member of one of the old Magi families. That in turn meant that Saber could not trust her -- even if she worked with the Agency.
"Leave this place, Magus," she told the girl gently but firmly. "I must deal with him in the manner befitting a Servant. As a Magus, you know that it must be this way. Inform the Agency that I am dealing with the situation."
She scarcely had time to warn the young Magus before preparing for Gilgamesh's next attack. Her blue-green eyes widened briefly as she recognised the bizarre, ancient sword; as soon as she saw the hilt emerge from the glowing sea at his back, she began feeding as much mana as she could into Excalibur, its blade once again beginning to glow in a steadily-increasing golden sheen of holy light. Digging her heels into the ground, the knight readied herself, her lips parted to call upon the True Name of her Noble Phantasm to meet that black, nightmarish wave--
--when from behind her came an attack that was definitely /not/ her own. Out of her peripheral vision she glimsped the missile streaking overhead, rocketing towards her enemy at a speed that could only be achieved by a Servant. She did not dare turn to look, but she could feel the presence of another who had been called to Heaven's Feel. First a Magus, and now another Servant? What was even more surprising than their presence was how they were interfering with this duel in spite of the Association's rules. They seemed to be lending her their aid --but for what purpose?
"I've got to say, you're not much of a king." Rin stands with all the audacity and confidence she'd stood with in Einzbern Manor, even if she feels less of it on the inside. Gilgamesh is a force of nature. There's no denying that. "Half-bred. Don't you have any better insults? You say them like I actually care."
Actually, she's born of a celebrated bloodline of magi, but his insults are so trite that they're not even bothering her.
She folds her arms when he delivers his threat, narrowing her eyes. Fine. She'll let the King of Knights settle this quickly, but if there seems to be any sign of trouble, she's still fingering a full complement of cut topaz and emerald between her fingers.
She circles, quietly, slinking just past the treeline and using those first few trees to cover her approach. If she can get around behind Gilgamesh, she'll at least earn herself the element of surprise, even if not the strength. All she needs to do is stun him and get Saber out of here. By her estimates, they should be able to make it to the Gate without getting mangled too horribly. In and out, right?
Until, at least, Gilgamesh pulls that weapon from the vault. In a moment of abject, uncharacteristic astonishment, Rin's eyes widen and her jaw drops. What the hell? She may not be a Servant, but even she can feel the waves of power rushing from that thing.
She reaches up quickly to her radio, chattering /sotto voce/ but quickly. This is not looking good.
Obviously out of her element, Rin shrinks back against the nearest tree. "Awwww, hell... this isn't going to be--"
The impact of Enuma Elish is enough to throw her off her feet, flinging her against a tree like a ragdoll. She hits the trunk and slides down, stunned for a moment, before shaking her head and picking herself up from the ground. Somebody, please make the world stop spinning.
Still, that strike was valuable. Very valuable. It gave Archer away, since she had briefly noticed the trajectory of where that ruined Noble Phantasm had come in from. She knows, too, that it's more than likely Archer. Who else would fling a Noble Phantasm with such reckless abandon -- or expert aim? Had it been an unidentified Servant, they might well have aimed at Rin herself.
Perhaps emboldened by this fact, she leans against the nearest tree that isn't charred, holding onto it for balance.
She mutters under her breath, holding her head, which is till spinning infernally. The raw power eminating from Enuma Elish is making her sick to her stomach, and vertigo is trying to gnaw at her and make it worse. She glances up in time to see Saber... not recognise her at all. Magus though she may be, this Saber clearly has no recognition from her. Has she simply not met her yet? That does beg the question of where Emiya is, though.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Saber, it's me! Rin! Don't you tell me to back off! I thought we were going to handle this lunatic as a group!" She waves her arms, angrily, forcing herself up and straight out of sheer willpower. "You bone-headed moron, you can't deal with him alone! Nobody can!"
That might stroke Gilgamesh's ego a little, but it isn't meant in the way that it may be taken. Rin isn't concerned about his raw strength, she's concerned about his seemingly endless font of mana. Frustrated but unwilling to leak all the details, Rin can only rage impotently. After a moment, she's aware that Saber isn't even listening to her.
She sags back against the tree, huffing angrily, though her eyes are still on Gilgamesh, wary of what he might do. Her fists tighten around the gemstones between her fingers, and she sidles along again, trying to gain another advantage of position.
A quick murmur in German sets one of her gems, a brilliant square-cut topaz, to gleaming softly between her fingers; mana agitated at the command. She rubs her finger over it, transfers the other gems to her hand,
A quick murmur in German sets one of her gems, a brilliant square-cut topaz, to gleaming softly between her fingers; mana agitated at the command. She rubs her finger over it, transfers the other gems to her hand, and -- with an angry cry, flings it as hard as she can at the King of Heroes.
It may not have much effect to Gilgamesh, but it would be the equivalent of hurricane-force gales blasting into him, tearing at him like claws of wind. She's gained some power in her time at Clocktower, honing her senses and her skills. Notably, in fact; that gem is short several years of infused mana.
"Come /on/, you bone-headed moron! I'm creating an opportunity; let's get out while we can! Don't go all noble and stupid on me, here! The Gate's just a short hop away!" Rin tries to endeavour to the King of Knights, but it's probably falling on deaf ears. That, unfortunately, is just pissing her off even more.
Oh, she knows that Archer is there, but she hasn't yet seen him. Perhaps she's cunning enough not to give him away just yet. Likely Saber might take a hint from that calm treatment -- Rin is talented enough a magus to know what that strike signified. Those blue eyes do sweep the glade once -- just once -- to see if she can spot the Knight of Bows. She won't give him away until he's ready to really make an entrance.
Make it count, Archer, she wils, silently. This isn't going at all like she had planned. Her attempt to extract Saber had depended on the Servant recognising her, and that lack has blown this whole situation out of the water.
The potent, swirling, world-breaking power of Gilgamesh's one, true noble phantasm spins ever onwards, creating a more a powerful reaction the longer it endures. Seeing Saber about to respond in kind with the Sword of Promised Victory, the King of Heroes casts his disrupting weapon forward, the final invocation of his most powerful attack on his lips like a rarely tasted delicacy...
Except it does not come. Screaming faster than sound from the skies above, a shining golden bolt strikes Ea at the pinnacle of his swing. The intense prana stored within the false noble phantasm explodes on contact, beginning a hellish chain reaction with the Sword of Rupture as its power is unleashed prematurely and half-complete. At the same moment the Magus' gems strike true. Though their power is not as much compared to energies about to spin beyond control, they help the matter precisely none.
A brief expression of irritated surprise is visible on The Golden King's shining visage before he suddenly vanishes in an eclipsing, destructive meeting of powers, red and gold hues of energy dancing upon one another intimately in a hellish embrace as stray bolts that could fell entire buildings flail about indiscriminately, scorching the earth, tearing trees from their roots and lighting the sky above with arcane light visible for miles around. A full-blown investigation would no doubt soon be pending by the Association in the aftermath. Rin can thank her lucky stars it at least did not happen in a residential area this time.
Once that abyssal miasma of chaotic power ceases the warped and twisted visage of a formerly lush landscape remains. Scorched ground and trees smolders, too burnt for flames to even take them, though the light of the spreading fire still burns some distance away. Gilgamesh's smoking form can be spied not too far away; he has been knocked a good hundred yards back, a carved out trench of earth marking his forced trajectory. The nameless noble phantasm he wielded crackles with now-dormant power, its volatile motion ceased. His armor has been dulled and scorched in places, and the King of Heroes looks not -one- bit pleased.
"What....-blasphemer- wishes so dearly for death? Coward of a servant!" There was no doubt in his mind that it was another Servant's power that had just struck him, unable to think of anything else in his travels thus far that could conjure a force capable of doing such a thing to his sword. What's more, that weapon had felt...-familiar- somehow, though it was too fast for him to glimpse. He believed he knew it, but could not place it and the failure of his eyes to find this cowardly opponent only increased his frustration. "Tch." The warrior's instincts told him it would be disadvantageous to continue this affair at present, however much the King's sensibilities wished to refute it.
"It appears our reunion has become crowded, Saber." He sighs with some reluctance, dismissing his weapon to the opulence of Uruk's get, "This mongrel and whatever half-rate servant are skulking around have ruined the mood. I'll allow them to live on account of this day's celebration despite their impudence...for now." Scarlet eyes narrow, searching the space he believed that attack to have come from, "But I -shall- return to claim them at a later date. For now, spend your remaining days in the shadow of your certain death."
Tilting his head, the Hero-King offers one last smile to Saber, "As for you, King of Knights, do take care of yourself. I will not wait on your answer forever...but I -shall- wait. Until our next meeting, I suggest you prepare yourself for the rigors of holy matrimony. Meet me at the Tower Karazhan, upon the world called Azeroth, when you are ready. I will receive you in splendor."
No sooner than the last syllable of his offer is uttered is the Sumerian's presence gone from the physical world, vanishing with the same condescending demeanor he'd strode in on, regardless of how events turned out. Yet the land bears of the burden of his presence and power, of Saber'
No sooner than the last syllable of his offer is uttered is the Sumerian's presence gone from the physical world, vanishing with the same condescending demeanor he'd strode in on, regardless of how events turned out. Yet the land bears of the burden of his presence and power, of Saber's and the unseen Bowyer's as well. It will take time for it to heal.
The bow remained lifted, keen grey-brown eyes still transfixed on the resulting escalation. He appeared to be searching for something, and only when he found it would he dismiss the elegant weapon with a release of his fingers. One might expect the Servant would hurry on down, rush to the continued aid of his old Master, especially since she was going to be worse for wear after suffering through being that near to the explosion. Yet he didn't. Archer was satisfied that Gilgamesh had retreated without successfully using his prized blade, but when he confronted Rin he would do it on...his own terms. She didn't posess sight strong enough to ferret him out. As for Saber-- that could wait. "And to think retirement was getting comfortably boring." His words were swept away as soon as he spoke them by the heated winds. He smirked, then waited. Promising to oversee their depature to safety, and then...
And then.
Saber could not help but feel some frustration at the turn in situation. While she did not feel compelled to protect the mysterious Servant at her back, the Magus was another matter entirely. She may have been injured from the simple pull of Ea's field alone, and her morality demanded that she protect the girl, even if she was not her Master. It had been quite fortunate indeed that the Golden King's attention was focused almost exclusively on the tiny swordswoman. But if the Agency Magus became too much of a nuisance, he might decide that tolerating her presence was not worth the annoyance. Did this girl not understand just how little he thought of every living being?
But on a practical level, human presence meant that this battle would fall to the arrogant First-King. She could not simultaneously go on the complete offensive against him while guarding another. If she could not persuade the Magus to leave the battlefield quietly, she understood all too well that victory would be lost to her. And while the Magus herself continued to plead for Saber to retreat, her pride and honour as well as the will to see his tyranny brought to a halt demanded that she refuse.
"It is too late to retreat," she replied quietly. She was an odd Magus indeed if she could not understand that. If she truly had known Saber previously, she would have understood the sense of duty she carried on her petite shoulders.
And yet, she was becoming quite adamant that Saber /should/ have recognised her. She suppressed a grimace. This business of multiple versions of herself was becoming quite troublesome.
"I assume you knew my predecessor," she told Rin evenly, her face betraying only concentration, the sharpness of green eyes focused on her opponent. "I can assure you that I am not she."
Still, the girl's next attack --right on the heels of the projectile from the unknown Servant-- had been no small feat to achieve. It completely halted the oncoming attack from the King of Heroes and rendered Ea useless for the moment. One of Gilgamesh's most easily-exploited weaknesses was his overconfidence, and the two had used that to full advantage, whether intentionally or not. Their combined attack had made her counterattack pointless; though she had been poised to unleash the full power of Excalibur upon him, she refused to act with dishonour and strike upon interference from interlopers. The light of the holy sword gradually faded away as she withdrew her mana from it, the polished sheen reflecting the light of the fires around the battlefield. But she dared not dismiss it while still in the presence of her hated enemy.
She was speechless. Utterly speechless; this was the /second/ time she had blatantly refused him, and yet he -still- insisted that she was merely being modest or indecisive? Saber could only glare at him, sea-green eyes alit with unbridled and naked fury. His self-assured smile alone was almost enough for her to begin feeding mana into Excalibur once more, consequences be damned. Every fibre of her being screamed out for his head this very instant, but fortunately for her frame of mind as well as her continued existence, he was gone. And the King of Heroes left in his wake the same destruction he always had, and an invitation she only intended to honour with Excalibur in hand and armour on her back.
She was torn between being grateful for the reprive-- albeit somewhat reluctantly -- and frustrated that her honour as a knight had been tarnished somwhat. She had promised Gilgamesh a duel between Kings, and chivalry demanded that promises be kept. Even to one as despicable as the King of Heroes. However, it was probably just as well. Not only was her mana becoming dangerously low without a source to tap into, but with the presence of the interlopers, she did not dare invoke Excalibur's name and thus reveal her true identity. Even if there was no need to do so, Saber wished only to be known in this collection of worlds as a simple knight. Her days as a king were long since passed, and though she continued to conduct her affairs as a proper king should, she wanted no reminders of it.
With Gilgamesh, as well as the hidden Servant, now gone from the scene, she could focus on the new problems which had been presented. She had dismissed Excalibur as soon as she could no longer sense his presence, concentrating on her wound to begin regenerating, using only just enough mana to induce the healing process. Once done, she replaced the armour of a calm expression once more over her face, her eyes scrutinising the young Magus.
"Now then," she spoke after a moment, not mincing words and getting straight to business. "Are you the Master of that other Servant?"