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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 12 2010, 12:21 AM (192 Views) | |
| Avvil | Sep 12 2010, 12:21 AM Post #1 |
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Weaver of Tales
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The Fated Day: Illarion's Lab, Russia: http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch/?v=fggw4mu-xFg&feature=related (Pocoscon) "Note to self: It seems that further pursuing the the direct reversal of the properties of acids through this Alchemic formula has resulted in a rather definitive failure, as evidenced by results present in Subject A. And Subject B. And C. And D. Also, I should probably note E through Z as well. And Subjects AA through ZZ inclusive seem to be in much the same situation. No matter! A minor setback like this is nothing! Perseverance is the key to genius, they say. Or someone does. I'm sure I do, at least. At the very least, it seems that this formula is particularly effective at dissolving nickel and zinc, for a reason I can't readily discern either. It is, however, absolutely fascinating. Anyway, that's it for today's results. Tomorrow's experiment will primarily be focused on checking the results of using Alchemy to create glucose/titanium alloys. I am particularly interested in all results involving cotton candy, and have high hopes for at least some positive outcome. Maybe. Recorder off." As Illarion finishes making his announcement, the suit responds on its own to the final directive, drawing the microphone back into a compartment located somewhere around its left elbow. Sighing, he gives his vision filters one last cycle, hoping to catch something he may have missed before as he surveys the rows of material samples, each in varying states of being dissolved by his modified sulfuric acid, and none being instead repaired as he'd hoped. Still, as with any experiment, failure yields results just as well as success. Even if the knowledge one seeks is something that might not be found after thousands of years of intentional study, there was always a chance that it could be discovered in a single night by mistake. For most, Illarion realized, the main issue was probably continuing to find things to test. After all, conventional science already accounted for nearly all possible tests and their results before doing them. Even though you could test what you already knew, there was so little life to it, it was like a dead thing, rather than something fresh and new. One could not grasp at an impossible dream that way. With the ability to use Alchemy, however, all this changed. Limitless possibilities for study were opened before Illarion, and thus limitless possibilities for glorious mistakes, those miracles that no amount of intentional effort can create. Thus, as long as he could continue to come up with new experiments, there was always the chance, no matter how small, that he would eventually reach the knowledge he sought. Well, it's somewhat unclear if Illarion's actual thought process as he reflects on his failed experiment is quite this lucid, but it's probably as close to an approximation as is possible. ---End Music--- Sighing again, he hits the bottom button on the side of the face plate, returning to his standard telescopic goggles, and begins making his way to the elevator near the front of his lab. Though the experiment had not gone as planned, it fundamentally made as little difference to him as if it had gone perfectly. Neither would have resulted in gaining what he sought. There was nothing to do but eat, rest, and continue his work the next day. Before he is even able to finish crossing the lab, however, his progress is arrested by a noise unlike any Illarion had ever heard before, in any of his myriad experiments and tests. Shortly following, a tall, rounded portal forms in the air before him, glowing with a ghostly green light. http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch/?v=jv1ZeazyC_k (Truth) A man in frayed and tattered dark clothing that may once have comprised a complete suit steps forward into the room through the opening. His attire and features, however, pale in relevance to the enormous scythe he bears in his right hand. Illarion remains stunned by this event for scarcely more than half a second, already cycling through his vision filters with rapid efficiency, checking various measures and dials kept protected beneath the metal plating on his inner arms. The man simply watches, smirking. "You...you aren't part of my calculations. I can't even recall starting this experiment. Are you...an anomaly? Or perhaps," Illarion's tone grows hopeful as he continues, "...a mistake?" The man before him simply throws back his head and laughs deeply at this, though the reason appears entirely unclear. Frowning slightly behind his visor, Illarion begins to ask for somewhat better clarification, but the man speaks first. "Illarion Alkaev, I am here to offer you an opportunity. You could even call it an 'experiment,' if you wish. You have been chosen by the Holy Grail, as a Master in a Holy Grail War." The man frowns slightly, apparently annoyed by some nagging thought. "You do understand what that means, don't you?" The telescopic lens whirs slightly as it narrows in focus, zooming in on this strange visitor, before Illarion begins his response. "Holy Grail War? Ah, I do recall something about that. A battle royale with powerful summoned familiars, yes? But that's entirely beside the point! You give off absolutely no heat, did you know that? In fact, it's almost as if you drain life and energy from the world around you simply by existing. It's absolutely fascinating!" The man rolls his eyes, going on. "Yes, yes. I suppose that response is at least partially correct. The winning team members will each be the recipient of a single wish of their choice, to be granted by the collected power of the Grail. I believe, at this point, you should know enough to make an informed decision of whether or not to join. To indicate your assent, simply step through the gateway within the next minute. I am...quite finished here..." With those parting words, the man with the scythe dissolves into the air as though he had never even been present. Something important had been said there, though. A wish. A wish! Things like this, this was the kind of miracle that only a genuine mistake after a life of research could bring about. All he had to do was win...? It should be no trouble. Realizing that his very limited time is dwindling, Illarion rapidly begins attempting to scramble forward, despite the weight of the suit, to make it through the portal before this opportunity passes him by. Just as it begins to fray about the edges, he reaches a lone step before it, throwing himself forward with as much energy as he can muster, clearing its collapse with less than a second to spare. As he floats suspended in this place between worlds for but an instant, a single thought has time to drift through his mind: How does one get back? |
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| Avvil | Sep 19 2010, 11:14 PM Post #2 |
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Weaver of Tales
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Night 1: Results May Vary http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch?v=i1ktLQbjlMI (To the Full) "Main database on! Search for any articles that include both 'Holy Grail War' and 'Servant Summoning'!" Illarion stomps over to a somewhat clearer area in the forest. Even here, the light is dim and the foliage dense, but in the small space enclosed by the barrier, it's the best he can hope to manage. Still, he had to focus on the real problem here...summoning a Servant. Had he ever come across anything about that in the past? A whirring noise continues softly as his suit rapidly checks through all recorded entries and files for a match. Roughly six seconds later, a mechanical voice sounds a response. "Query analyzed. Two matches found." "Two, eh?" Lost in thought, Illarion absentmindedly directs a bit of mana to scratching his head with his claw, while he fiddles with a control panel on his left arm. "Bah! No time, no time for this at all! Open and run the first entry!" Again, the whirring noise sounds from the back of the suit, as the necessary data is readied, followed by a series of clicks. Another handful of seconds later, the monotone voice begins speaking again. "System Entry 0.839-A8: A Treatise on the Summoning and Control of Heroic Spirits in Relation to the Holy Grail War. Author: Gustav Schwartz. Date: Unknown." "Let all who read this take heed: The act of entering a Holy Grail War is never a thing to be undertaken lightly. Certainly, one's life will invariably be at risk at all times simply through the act of being involved. I write this as both a reference and a record, so that the foolish errors of my youth will forever hold a place in the world, that they may perhaps prevent future idiocy of the same degree as mine. "It is recommended that the better part of a year be set aside to training and mastering the following techniques. Failure to adequately master the techniques described here will merely result in one's own destruction. "It should first be noted, with regard to the arduous task of handling the interface of a large deal of prana between one's own body, and the body of an-" "Enough, enough!" Illarion makes an effort to attempt to throw up his arms in exasperation, as the voice continues to drone on, dutifully reading from the entry. "Database! You can shutdown, now! You've done quite enough, for now." Grinning madly, Illarion flips a switch on the side of his head, causing a far heavier visor than his standard plate to flip down. http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch?v=nq-JKH1HSQM (Powerful Enemy) "No time for this. Looks like I'll just have to experiment!" "Hah! Haha! Ahahahaaaaaaaa!!!" Stepping out into the very middle of the clearing, Illarion summons his claw, rapidly tracing out an intricate transmutation circle in the ground below. "Yes, yes...we'll make it a mana to matter conversion for the general specification...that part of the formula should handle the constant distribution of energy over time...and we'll add in a section here to deal with all that Grail and Heroic Spirit nonsense...perfect!" Surveying his creation briefly, Illarion raises his arms slowly into the air, sweating profusely under the strain as he gathers in mana. As a concentration of power great enough to be physically visible condenses in the iron-clad palms of his hands, he runs the entire thing through the matrix of the transmutation circle before him. Raw mana running through its circuits, the inscribed creation flares into life, as it conducts the surge of power sent forth by Illarion. Vaguely at first, then with far greater certainty, the outline of a figure appears before mechanical monstrosity in the center of the circle. "Excellent! Excellent! Just a bit more power...!" Thunder crackles in the distance, a side-effect as Illarion draws on his second aspect of his magic circuit, channeling even more raw mana into the framework already set up by Alchemy. The form before him solidifies, as the air around it shimmers, disrupted by the sudden appearance of something solid where there was nothing before. At last, with a triumphant burst of lightning, a girl with white hair and blue wings stands before him, flesh and blood. Adorned in elaborate leg and waist armor, she stands with a clear poise and elegance, a small golden tiara atop her head. That poise is broken, however, as she blinks once, taking her situation into account, then leaps backward, a spear with a glowing blue tip materializing in her hand as she adopts an aggressive stance. "Back, fiend! Know that I am Lancer, and will not permit you to harm my Master! If you do not wish to suffer an untimely fate, I suggest leaving this place immediately!" Laughing maniacally, Illarion raises an arm in greeting. "Success! Success! Haha! Even my experiments are successful some of the time!" Taken aback, Lancer gives the creature before her a penetrating glance, testing the link between herself and her Master for the first time, her eyes opening in shock. "Is it possible...that this monstrosity...?" Illarion's expression is like the sun, as he raises his double-visors, rapidly cycling through his filters as he studies his Servant animatedly. "Fascinating...absolutely fascinating...I knew that Gustav person was making a big deal out of nothing..." |
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| Avvil | Sep 22 2010, 09:50 PM Post #3 |
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Weaver of Tales
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Night 2: Awkward Encounters http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch?v=FFUoQGcXLbI (Outlaws) "So...what you are attempting to say...is that using what I know as Alchemy, it will eventually be possible to create armor such as the kind you wear?" "Yes, yes. Although this isn't something you can just throw together. I've spent five...ten...well, a lot of years making it and adding to it. But that red fluid in that flask you had out earlier...I've never seen anything like it! Could I ask how that was made?" After several taxing hours of conversation during their slow trek through the forest, Lancer begins to get a better grasp of the peculiar man who serves as her Master. The initial confusion was easily cleared up when she recognized that the link supplying her with prana was coming from him, but while it was the most significant issue, the myriad of others now seem far more complex to resolve. Illarion's ineptitude at conventional communicating what would be normal things to most people only serves to magnify the existing difficulties. Peculiarly, the one area in which the odd pair achieves the best understanding is in the technical discussion of the art of Alchemy. "It is relatively simple to make, once one finds the correct type of Mandragora root for it. Most of the ingredients can be improvised, but having the Mandragora is essential." Illarion's shoulders fall, in a motion substantially exaggerated by the size of his suit. "I see, I see...terrible shame, that. Mandragoras aren't exactly the kind of thing you can find around every corner, these days. A few colleagues of mine may have mentioned that they found some years ago, and preserved them for testing, but I didn't pay much attention to it at the time. I've never been much for the organic components of Alchemy. Either way, you're not going to be able to get any of those out here. Is that really the only way to make it?" Lancer frowns, considering alternatives. "Well...it is the only way in which I have ever attempted to create it, but I am familiar with several variations on existing recipes. It could be possible to substitute other ingredients, but I cannot say how much of the effects would be preserved in doing so." "Hrmph. We'll need to test that out some time, then! Where's your sense of experimentation, your drive to learn what no one else has tried! I've plenty of ingredients with me to test out, too. Next chance we get, I insist we find a place to hold for awhile so you can figure that out. Who knows? You may even be blessed with a mistake!" Sighing inwardly, Lancer nods in agreement, having realized hours ago that it was generally the fastest way to resolve the peculiar breaks in conventional logic and the flow of the conversation that inevitably kept coming up. Rather than give her Master another opportunity to respond in the same vein, though, she immediately shifts the topic of conversation, another technique she is quickly finding essential. "About the War...I think that it would be wise of us to work out an advance strategy, in the event that we are confronted by other Servants and Masters, whether they choose to immediately become our foes or not. Did you not have any thoughts to this matter?" Barely even pausing to respond at all, Illarion's voice is solid and confident. "Obviously, we're going to try and partner with whoever we run into first. I'd think that would be clear from the start." Lancer stops for a second, almost stumbling in surprise. Glancing over at her Master, she blinks. Mistaking her surprise for confusion, Illarion begins elaborating. "Well, you see, it's really a matter of sound mathemati-" "Yes, I understand the strategy from my study of warfare and my experience in my father's armies. I simply...had not expected such an answer from you. I admit that I had not believed you have given the matter any thought at all before I had asked. It seems that I underestimated your strategic ability. You have my apologies." Roaring laughter comes from within Illarion's suit at this remark. "Thought I was crazy, did you? Well. I am! Haaaaahahahahaaaa!!! Still, there's a method to my madness...even if I'm the only one who can see it. Maybe you will too, in time..." Attempting to find a safely neutral gesture to make at this terrifying statement, Lancer manages a minor shrug as the two of them continue their trek. Less than a minute passes, however, before they emerge from the forest into an area that could almost be called a clearing, a three-tiered shrine atop a nearby hill. Despite being an interesting sight, though, the two women before them take far greater precedence in terms of attention. A young woman in a simple but fasionable white skirt and light green blouse with black hair almost to her shoulders stands in the clearing. Several feet from her and leaning back against a tree, is a woman possessing an exceedingly large bust in a partially-open white shirt, and black pants. For quite some time, both pairs of people do nothing but stare at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, the younger woman steps forward, speaking first. "Er...pleased to make your acquaintance?" Unexpectedly, a hiss of steam erupts from Illarion's suit, oddly-timed following her question, but Lancer quickly moves forward, responding before the pause becomes any more ominous than it needs to be. "It is our pleasure to encounter you here, as well." Looking somewhat relieved, the woman presses on. "Then...you're not going to attack us...?" Illarion's booming voice finally joins the conversation. "Attack? Well, I suppose we could have enough time to manage that later if you like, but for now, we had something different in mind. How would you feel about working together with us?" The woman nods firmly, not in the least seeming to be put off by the peculiar combination of Lancer's petite form juxtaposed with Illarion's massive suit, now that the conversation has started. "Very well, we accept your proposal. It would be our pleasure to work with you." Finding something immensely amusing with the situation, woman leaning against the tree laughs to herself, though her tone almost seems to be mocking the world. Lancer looks at her oddly. "Is...she going to be okay?" The first woman sighs slightly, shaking her head. "I'm afraid so." Lancer's brow creases, unsure what to make of the response, while the other woman only snickers harder. |
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| Avvil | Sep 24 2010, 09:55 PM Post #4 |
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Weaver of Tales
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Night 3: Strange Preparations http://www.youtuberepeat.com/watch?v=HPEBQ3k0-t4 (Boys on the Plains) Four figures occupy a clearing at the base of a hill, none of them paying the least bit of attention to the others. The girl in the skirt sits atop a rock, a look of concentration on her face as she holds her necklace, while Archer stands near the center of area, holding up a peculiar stone statue that begins to draw in surrounding souls. Beside her, Lancer summons an ornate spear and holds it solemnly before her, its tip shining with a ghostly blue light. Far off on the other side of the clearing, Illarion summons his claw and begins sketching a transmutation circle to augment his weather manipulation technique, muttering formulae and variables under his breath as he blocks out the other various events in the area. Back at the other end of the clearing, the younger girl finishes fiddling with her necklace around the same time as Lancer finishes drawing in the last few Phozons. Giving a small sigh, the Servant dismisses her lance with a slight gesture, and notices the girl looking at her. "Ah, there is nothing for you to concern yourself with. These are as many as I am capable of drawing in for the moment. The rest are still outside of my range." "Oh. Interesting. Anyway, I'm not quite finished yet with my own work, so I'm going to need to concentrate again. Sorry to leave you as the odd one out." Lancer shakes her head, denying the claim. "Please, you should not worry about such a thing as that. You should take what time we have now to prepare, while the chance still exists." Nodding to her ally's Servant, the girl stands, stretching for a moment. Satisfied, she holds her arms out, and begins an intense focus for just short of an hour, unexpectedly beginning an unusual incantation, though the exact words are too faint to hear. For a brief moment, a single spark of light ignites from within the air before her, as she continues speaking. In response to this verse, a light of no uncertain degree blossoms again in the air, a crackling ball of light that shines through the darkness of the clearing. Looking satisfied, she begins a third segment of the incantation. With a flash of brilliance that is not quite blinding, the ritual is completed, and an almost-invisible bobbing ball of light flickers in and out of the shadows as it floats gleefully about. Just finishing his Storm-Calling, Illarion turns in the direction of the strange summoning, rapidly cycling through his standard array of goggles and lenses. However, his time to study it is cut short, as the girl addresses it rapidly, before it blinks suddenly and completely out of existence. Realizing that whatever was going on is finished, Lancer and her Master make their way over to the girl, Illarion making the first move. "We're planning to investigate other areas, shortly. However, we wouldn't want to leave without a means of staying in touch!" The girl nods in response, looking somewhat uncertain. "How exactly do you plan to handle that, then? Also, could I ask your name? We've been here for awhile, but we've been so busy making our own preparations, we've hardly said a word." "Name?" Illarion stands almost completely puzzled, on the verge of drawing out his claw to scratch his head at the question. Lancer, however, fills in for his temporary lapse of thought. "This is Illarion. My apologies for our lack of introduction earlier, it was most discourteous. As you may have guessed, I am Lancer." Illarion beams brightly behind his visor, recalling his name at his Servant's suggestion. "Ha! Illarion! That's it. Can never remember it whenever it's most useful..." The girl nods back at Lancer, though she makes an effort of trying not to completely disregard Illarion's response, even if it's clear she would rather not deal with him. "You can call me Yuina. And that's Archer, over there." Yuina nods at the woman in long black hair who is just finishing absorbing souls into the small stone statue, as she makes her way over to the group. Yuina continues, realizing that the entire conversation was sidetracked at some point. "You said something about a way to communicate while we were apart?" "Ah! Yes, yes. My Telepathy Matrix!" Illarion fiddles with several controls on his left arm, finally flicking a switch, as Yuina, Archer, and Lancer are each jolted by a strand of energy. "Now, we can talk like this, as long as we're in a one hundred kilometers radius of my suit. That covers the entire region, I should think." Archer and Yuina exchange an odd glance, as Illarion's voice finishes booming in their minds. "I...see... Well, I suppose that actually is useful. Alright. You go on ahead; we'll stay here for now, and we can report back to each other if either of us sees anything." "Excellent, excellent! We're on our way then! Let's get going, Lancer! More research opportunities are sure to abound!" As the two of them head back into the forest, Illarion turns around, with a final parting remark. "Also, if that friend of yours shows up again, let me know! I didn't get nearly as good a look at him as I'd like. His body looked like it had a truly unusual composition!" Illarion and Lancer turn back around and continue to depart, leaving Yuina and Archer to whatever thoughts they may have... |
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8:54 PM Jul 10