Incidentally, I'm going to deliberately abstain from replying until I'm sure @SIGINT isn't going to be totally fried by work. She's a senior software dev, and after the leak on Friday, I more or less figured that a nonstop hurricane of calls, emails, and other obligations have been bombarding her.
Berserk Gene Member
hurf durf
amm smort
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Her sight as a Master would say it all. Every parameter but Luck was E, currently. Her sight as Airi could even indicate that his "intent", if it could be called that, was 'to fade'. Defeat was all it could be called.
At the sound of her voice, however, the portly man turned his head, surprised. Concern? Obliging her was natural, even reflexive. His body felt like soggy lead, and there was visible effort in staggering off the street to the sidewalk.
Norton collapsed on a street corner, shakily pushing himself up to lay his back against a streetlight to look up at Airi.
"Lass...you can't be normal, if you aren't scared." Despite saying something rather weighty like that, his mustache was curled upwards over a smile. With his old uniform, he looked like a wounded, even dying soldier. The saber at his side evaporated, as he unconsciously ceased to manifest it along with his hat. Prana conservation was all he could attempt.
Or perhaps not. Norton understood what this chance of fortune could mean, and a sense akin to a faint throbbing within his spiritual core egged him on.
"I'll fade away in a minute or two without a Master, lass. Please, contract with me! I have to set things right!"
The Emperor's eyes looked up at hers. His intent was "to survive" for a moment, but it catalyzed a higher intent: "to rectify".
My favorite parts are:
Kinoko "Bern Hussein" Nasu's mental health does come into question now and then, I agree. And nobody's applied for the intestines slot in this RP yet!
Two students from families concerned about the mental state of Bern Hussein mushroom.
...
Is a claim for protection (two swords, intestines, etc.), Sustainable Products Group is a big battle "to win, but that will change, however.
Kinoko "Bern Hussein" Nasu's mental health does come into question now and then, I agree. And nobody's applied for the intestines slot in this RP yet!
Just for kicks, I ran the top portion of the OP through this Text Obfuscator.
I assume this would still be better than whatever that guy who stole the OP came up with.
I assume this would still be better than whatever that guy who stole the OP came up with.
Agility Parameter, B. That wasn't enough to react, not even to process, in time.
Minutes before, Berserker had been enjoying the hotel's room service with his young Master. He was shoveling nothing but junk food in his mouth, but Norton quickly had come to enjoy the junk food of the present day. Perhaps it had to do with being a distinctly American Servant summoned in that year, perhaps it was just the way some Servants could be impressionable regarding novelties. Noting that nutrition and hotel billing were irrelevant concerns, he'd also emptied the hotel room's minibar. He'd wanted to proudly announce himself from the roof, but had been asked not to.
Moments before disaster, he was confidently insisting to his poor Master that the broken crutch could be mended by his own hands, and would be better than ever before. Norton only had the barest minimum comprehension of magecraft gained from the Grail and (mis)understood from discussing strategy with Stirner. Even then, he'd boldly claimed that his completely nonexistent Handyman skill, would infuse duct tape with Mystery and confer that to the wood of the crutch.
It wasn't even duct tape he was winding around the pieces, it was scotch tape. Even after a night of strategizing, how could poor Stirner have any faith in his Servant when he acted like a complete moron?
Or when he was whisked away by a living explosion? There was a blast, and the room had a new entry with corresponding exit. Norton stormed from his seat, destroying the table, body reacting before his mind. Already, he could feel his prana supply being strung away.
Strength Parameter, B.
The Emperor's boots slammed into the floor, launching him out the side of the hotel like a cannonball. Whiskers of his mustache and beard billowed like a pouncing lion's mane, while Berserker roared with outrage worthy of his class. The force of his leap carried him quite a distance, enough for his average momentum to be horizontal rather than vertical, like a jet engine's descent onto the tarmac. Landing on the road below, Norton tore down the street. Each step kicked enormous plumes of dust, gravel, tar, and dirt in his wake, as the asphalt unzipped. Chunks of the street were torn away each time his boots struck the ground, his frenzied pursuit leaving a ruinous fissure. The noise was incredible, as the thundering fury of Berserker shuddered through the street. Drainage infrastructure under the streets caved in under his rampage, however, momentarily slowing him as he plowed through debris and leapt up the street again. The rupture of gas lines and snapped power lines ignited a smoldering trail of fire within the fissure, though that could be seen as fortunate by the poor souls tasked with covering this up.
But, his Master was growing further and further, the black-haired man that snatched him away only lingering as a momentary afterimage that Norton only realized after it had been too late. Was it Assassin? No, whatever it was, it wasn't a Servant. Sensory recognition in the Emperor's subconscious noted that dismally, as he felt his prana dwindling. For a brief minute, the decrease to his parameters actually helped a little, as Norton's charge stopped pulverizing the road under him.
Too little, too late. No, even if his prana supply wasn't draining away, Norton never had a chance of catching up. Where even in the city was he now? Where was his poor little lad of a Master? Norton's feet slowed, feeling heavier and heavier each step. Archers could maybe last without a Master for enough time to figure something out. Even other classes could muster something. But a Berserker? A Berserker without a Master was like a fire starved of oxygen.
Would the Emperor burn himself out just like that, his only act of note in this Grail War being a failure to protect his Master, after breaking the lad's crutch? "Sorry, lad...I guess you were better off calling someone else." Trudging through the streets, Norton looked at the top half of the crutch he'd clenched in his hand the whole way. The other two pieces had broken off the moment he landed on the street.
In theory, he could try and eat souls until he could find his Master, but who was to say his Master was even still alive? Besides, Norton scornfully noted, he'd already done enough harm. This was the end of the troubles he'd be responsible for here.
Luck Parameter, A.
Norton will be trying to learn about his Master and strategizing, unless @Player 2 has alternative suggestions.
@Player 2
The Emperor paused, staring at the boy, as if only having realized who he was. Surprise or sorrow were absent from his reaction, as was anything else but quieted acknowledgement. Disappointment? Contempt? No, neither of those either. The class container furnished Norton with enough knowledge of the present and Grail War to evaluate his situation. For the self-conscious type of person, such ambiguity could be even worse than open scorn.
"...Lad."
Norton's formerly bombastic voice had softened, browline creased with concern. Or was it pity?
"Stirner Cartisius. The very first act of your Servant was to break something of yours. Reprimand me openly and honestly if you want, Master, do not fear a mere man." The Lord's nervous humility had steadied Berserker into gentler sincerity, though after saying that, the Emperor's mustache curled upwards with his beaming grin at the boy, eyes enthusiastically widened! "Splendid! Lad, are you really my Master?! Well, first things first, you should keep that umbrella to protect yourself. I won't permit harm to befall my attending Master, that would sabotage this whole thing!"
And then he evaporated into thin air, the other pieces of the broken crutch falling to the floor, before reappearing beside Stirner, merrily offering his hand to the young Master. Of course, all he'd done was go briefly into spiritual form before moving and manifesting again, but it was the spectacle that mattered. This Servant was certainly one for theatrics alright.
By that point, it was probably only a matter of course for Stirner to learn of his Servant's full information, most obviously that yes, he absolutely was a Berserker, despite appearances! That said, the exceptional compatibility between Norton's Noble Phantasms and the Cartisius family's specialty was...well, no wonder his Servant had a Luck parameter like that!
Either uncaring or unaware of the topic, however, the Emperor thickly stroked his beard with his other hand, considering. "Where shall we start then, lad? Strategy? Going over our resources? A good breakfast?" The matter of the crutch, however, was evidently still on the Emperor's mind, as he guiltily and sheepishly glanced back at the other two pieces.
Berserker Saber Bersaber Emperor Norton
The Emperor paused, staring at the boy, as if only having realized who he was. Surprise or sorrow were absent from his reaction, as was anything else but quieted acknowledgement. Disappointment? Contempt? No, neither of those either. The class container furnished Norton with enough knowledge of the present and Grail War to evaluate his situation. For the self-conscious type of person, such ambiguity could be even worse than open scorn.
"...Lad."
Norton's formerly bombastic voice had softened, browline creased with concern. Or was it pity?
"Stirner Cartisius. The very first act of your Servant was to break something of yours. Reprimand me openly and honestly if you want, Master, do not fear a mere man." The Lord's nervous humility had steadied Berserker into gentler sincerity, though after saying that, the Emperor's mustache curled upwards with his beaming grin at the boy, eyes enthusiastically widened! "Splendid! Lad, are you really my Master?! Well, first things first, you should keep that umbrella to protect yourself. I won't permit harm to befall my attending Master, that would sabotage this whole thing!"
And then he evaporated into thin air, the other pieces of the broken crutch falling to the floor, before reappearing beside Stirner, merrily offering his hand to the young Master. Of course, all he'd done was go briefly into spiritual form before moving and manifesting again, but it was the spectacle that mattered. This Servant was certainly one for theatrics alright.
By that point, it was probably only a matter of course for Stirner to learn of his Servant's full information, most obviously that yes, he absolutely was a Berserker, despite appearances! That said, the exceptional compatibility between Norton's Noble Phantasms and the Cartisius family's specialty was...well, no wonder his Servant had a Luck parameter like that!
Either uncaring or unaware of the topic, however, the Emperor thickly stroked his beard with his other hand, considering. "Where shall we start then, lad? Strategy? Going over our resources? A good breakfast?" The matter of the crutch, however, was evidently still on the Emperor's mind, as he guiltily and sheepishly glanced back at the other two pieces.
@Player 2 Not a problem, I had the time to ponder over how I was going to approach his personality.
Jinkies! The specter haunting the old Einzbern Castle was really old man Zouken all along!
Jinkies! Old man Zouken was really young man Zolgen all along!
Jinkies! Old man Zouken was really young man Zolgen all along!
I'd designed Norton with A-rank Luck before learning of the themes of fortune in the intro post, so that ended up rather self-fulfilling.
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