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4 mos ago
Current So it goes.
4 yrs ago
Talk to your players and be open to their ideas, at the end of the day we're all just here to shoot the shit.
4 yrs ago
Honestly, more structured/collaborative roleplays can be really fun and rewarding, but if you're going to open a project like that up you have to be flexible and open to compromise.
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9 yrs ago
current shitpost level: writing about how your favourite taiwanese puppet shows experiment with narrative for graded academic work
9 yrs ago
But god knows how many hours I've sunk into my collection of main series Pokémon game, so it's like making me pick between my children. :'D
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Shogo Tatsugami

Location: Gateway
Skills/items used: None


Shogo hadn't intended for it to be a late night in the office, but as he found himself waking up in his chair with a mess of documents still laid out in front of him, that seemed to be what he'd ended up with.

Pulling himself into an upright position and groaning lightly as he brushed a few strands of hair from his face, he tried to recall what exactly he'd been looking to accomplish. The day trickled back to him slowly, an early start as he met with the new lead manager of one of their manufacturing plants (he'd never really been a car person, but the man had seemed genuinely passionate), into an afternoon of talking to the marketing team at that plant's office (did any of the commercials they put out actually tell you anything about the cars?), before a run of the mill board meeting. Neither of the twins had deigned to make an appearance, and nobody else seemed to appreciate that he'd made the time to come and talk to them about the problems they brought up, but that was nothing new; and at least it gave him an idea of what he was looking at for the next week. Now, if only he could figure out how he'd ended up here instead of going home and cracking open the bourbon.

He ran a hand over the documents on his desk, trying to pick something- anything- out. Concerns about how much budget was going to one site, concern how little was going to another... something about a VR project that was hitting critical snags close to launch.

It took a moment, but awareness crashed in as that sliver of information kicked out the floodgate. The project had been picked up from elsewhere after a spike of interest in the technology, and a shift in direction from the original concept had opened up and exposed a bevy of problems that threatened to have it dead in the water on release or- worse yet for the investors- delay it past the point of demand. Shogo couldn't remember when he'd last spoken to the lead, though he did remember being assured that everything was under control as the project changed teams; no doubt he'd be looking to make an example of someone to save his own skin before he next spoke to any of the Tatsugami siblings.

Oh, Shogo was looking forward to having that conversation, Yamazaki could be sure of it. But fortunately for him, he had bigger problems to worry about for now; namely, the sheer amount of crunch they were looking at to get these problems fixed in a reasonable timeframe. The question of the moment, though, was whether there was likely to be anyone else about and available to follow up?

Shogo remembered it had already been getting dark when he got here, but with the window running the length of the office that overlooked the city from its vantage point atop the Tatsugami's building in Marunouchi, it only took a moment to confirm that the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, the streets below swallowed up in an ocean of neon light as most sidelined business for pleasure. Checking his watch to get his exact bearing, the big hand had almost made its whole way round; well, if he was already here, he supposed it was too late to worry about the time. He could at least check his inbox to see what was going on with it, maybe kick a few emails along to the relevant teams to try and get things under control before he had words with the man in charge... and this time of night on this day of the week, maybe it wasn't too late to catch the tail-end of a stream?

A few minutes later and he confirmed as much, the colourful figure on his monitor going from jabbering excitedly to screeching in rage as the boss in the game they were playing got back up for a surprise second phase after being decapitated. Oh, Vep. Well, seemed like she was going to be winding down on the game soon, one way or another, but having her on in the background would make the end of the day go down a little easier.

That and some coffee, he thought to himself, as he pushed his chair out from the table and got up to his feet. He held out a hand to steady himself as he felt the sudden headrush, before making carefully for the machine atop a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. Nonetheless listening carefully for any notification alerts, or any announcement that the stream was wrapping up early, he stood there for a few minutes rifling through the pods- not his preference, but unless he felt like going however many floors down, it'd have to do- as his blood pressure slowly returned to normal. Finally settling on a blend and popping it in, he let the liquid drain into his cup, topping it up from the electric kettle next to it, before he turned back to his desk-

The rush hit him again, not enough to send him keeling over, but enough that his mind went blank to everything but the sensation for a moment. He felt himself stumble, splaying an arm out as he did his best to stay standing and not spill his drink; and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to force himself back to focus. Come on, keep it together, he thought to himself, as he opened them once more-

He blinked. The scenery beyond his office window was gone, the neon sea replaced by a warmer, flickering light that seemed closer than the cold buzz of before. And as he looked from side to side, his office was gone too, the glass and his desk replaced by an open space carved from sandy yellow stone. Claustrophobia set in a little, however, as he perceived how much smaller this space was, and how crowded it was in spite of its lack of furnishings: every edge of the room that he could see was taken up by a series of alcoves, all of which, as his vision came back into focus, seemed to host someone... or something.

"..." Either his habits were catching up with him, or he'd somehow left his office without knowing it. He looked from side to side, the voices around him feeling distant as his mind struggled to catch up with his vision. A tall figure stood in the center of the room, humanoid but just a bit too tall for that to be the case. Unable or unwilling to process that at this precise moment in time, his vision shifted instinctively to the others present, four of which seemed up and at attention. The first was a young man of about average height who seemed about as lost as him, the second a tall woman in a school uniform who was pointing to some odd ornament on her person, the third a slightly shorter woman who was convinced she was drunk (and with that cadence, he wouldn't be surprised either), and the fourth a significantly shorter woman yet who-

Shogo didn't quite make out what she was saying, but he certainly felt how loud it came out. Fortunately, whether it was the sheer volume and pitch of her voice or the odd familiarity, it was the final thing he needed to snap back to reality-

"Pull yourself together, damn it." His own voice didn't come out as loudly as hers, but there was force behind it all the same as he forced himself back to awareness. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as he let the impact of his words settle, before looking back up past the others to the center of the bizarre chamber, where the tall man stood. Disregarding anything else about him that wasn't immediately reconciling itself with his perception of reality, he carried himself like he was important.

"You. Explain." Time to see if that was warranted. The words 'Digital World' and 'Index City' percolated in his mind, perhaps from something the figure had said while he'd been trying to gather his bearings; but without any real context for what was going on, they were meaningless, just proper nouns being thrown around without any care to explain them. And so Shogo levelled a glare at him, eager to find out exactly what all this was about...

But he found his expression softening a little, however involuntarily, as something began to tug at the side of his vision. He'd noticed the flames upon the walls as soon as he'd regained partial focus, even if he hadn't immediately identified them, but the flickering light that greeted him now was different. The colours were colder than those that adourned the chamber, but their warmth was unmistakeable, doing a remarkable job of setting him at ease in spite of the exhaustion, anger and confusion running through his mind; it didn't seem to be purely psychosomatic or palliative either, as he felt a voice reach out to him, words more felt than heard but no less soothing for them as they washed over him. He paused for a moment, allowing his attention to shift slowly from the man in the center of the room to the source of the sensation-

"... Hello?" He offered cautiously to the strange entity floating besides him, trying to keep his expression neutral even as he grappled with both the calming influence of their warmth and his amazement at the sight of what was undeniably a small, fiery ghost wearing a knight's helm.


Also escaping from the Time Stranger hole. Still got room?
"Prithee, calm yourselves. It will avail us little to spread ourselves thin, and less yet to be at each-other's throats." The robed figure responded to both the armoured warrior and the well-dressed rogue, their tone brooking no disagreement; though they seemed to take the latter's point in hand with their own advice, the strange noises from within their garb settling down as they spoke.

It may have been more a gesture of courtesy than the alternative, however. Though it was hard to read their body language through their garb and the heavy air that seemed to hang about them, they didn't seem bothered by the attention that the tallest of their number noted. It remained to be seen whether their skills beget confidence in their ability to handle the situation or if they were simply too single-minded to pay any mind to anything besides their target, but as the short witch in the black robe made a dramatic flourish to draw attention to her familiar's surveillance they seemed to nod along, raising a hand in assent.

"Our quarry are fools, but they are not without sense. This quarter reeks with the scent of fire, masking that left by the forest's children." As they spoke in consensus, one of their familiars descended to land upon the hand they extended. Though it resembled an insect with a segmented body reminiscent of a wasp, and would appear to be little more than that when perceived at a distance, at this close proximity the contrast between the pitch black of its form and the vibrant green of its eyes and wings betrayed a rather more fantastic nature: as did the fashion in which its abdomen writhed like a sharply-barbed tail.

"And yet life is not so easily silenced. The spirits will find the trail, however thoroughly they believe it to have been scoured away." Even those present who didn't know of the history and rituals of the one commanding it would recognize that despite its austere appearance, the familiar was not greatly divorced in nature from those they were seeking to rescue.

It seemed, however, that the first breakthrough of the night was by the grace of their companion rather than the myriad familiars among them. As the Lantern drew to a halt and gestured down the alleyway, they too paused as if checking their workings, before picking up their pace and peering around the wall down towards the strange, hulking figure.

The warrior and the rogue once again seemed to exchange passive-aggressive remarks as they took stock of the situation; though this time the latter took the initiative and disappeared up the side of one of the buildings enclosing the alleyway and out of sight before the figure could fully turn to admonish them. A distorted sigh came forth from them, before they turned their attention to the warrior.

"Steady. It may seem a churl, but many a journey has ended on such a premise." Their tone was cautioning, albeit with a confidence that suggested they were simply recounting from experience. That experience seemed to give them a different idea of how to deal with the homunculus; without another word, they gestured forward with the hand the vespine familiar rested upon, bidding it forwards down the alleyway towards the entity.

Perhaps they had a plan of action in mind already, or maybe they were simply casting a stone into stagnant waters, sending the spirit towards the hulking brute to get a feel for its behaviour and capabilities. Either way, the remainder of their familiars began to gather in the air above them, dispersed just enough that an outside observer wouldn't immediately process their numbers, while just close enough to descend at a moment's notice.

Despite the ever-forward march of the modern project and humanity's best efforts to quash its influence, life in the city had never quite become disentangled from the cause and effect of the natural world beyond it. Even setting aside their reliance on the toil and fruit of distant fields for trade and sustenance, the border between Lumiere and the world beyond was an arbitrary one. In the end, just as many of those who lived there were animals who had adapted to the strange new ecosystem as they were humans who held it up as a symbol of mankind's progress, and though their acceptance was grudging, it was clear they were here to stay.

The sight of insects drifting through the sky against the setting sun was therefore nothing out of the ordinary. All sorts emerged from the depths of the city as it descended into night, emerging to feed upon the refuse of the day or sup themselves on the blood of those who walked the streets in intoxication; tonight would likely see an even greater abundance of them, the earlier downpour inundating the air with a favourable humidity.

"Naught yet." And that was just what the one directing them was counting on.

Among those accompanying the waifish automaton was a figure carrying an ambiguous presence. Witches were a varied bunch, their traditions stretching all over the globe and persisting into the modern era as both practical means and stubborn eccentricity, but this individual seemed bizarre by even those skewed standards. Clad head to foot in a set of white robes that swallowed up their form and figure, and with a hooded mask made of a metallic fibre woven into a coil, it seemed as if they should have fallen far behind the other, more limber-seeming individuals present; and yet they showed no discomfort or disorientation, moving confidently and carefully along their route as senses beyond the ken of man guided them, both within and without.

"Rot teems in stagnant waters. They will not be far hence." If anything, their gait put them close to the head of the pack as they stalked intently along, the low buzz distorting their voice and the hum of movement from within their vestments betraying frustration that their 'familiars' had yet to find their mark among the cacophony of scents in the air.
Welp, gotta rip the band-aid off sooner or later. Let me know if I've messed up anywhere:

Beatrice LaForet and Lancer


Beatrice was almost clear of the woods behind the church when the deep voice intoned towards her, bringing her steady pace down to a slow advance as she looked over her shoulder to see Lancer approach.

"Less than I'd have liked, but we still got something out of it." She raised an eyebrow as her Servant seemed to disregard her order to wait for summons; but she let it pass without comment. She doubted he'd have moved ahead if he were anything less than confident that they were safe.

So, instead of admonishment, a gentle stream of information flowed from Beatrice's mind into Lancer's, as she leaned into their link to apprise him of what she'd learned. Some of it, he was already aware of, but now they weren't in imminent risk of an attack or ambush, she had some breathing room to unpack and make sense of it.

<Seems like we have three Masters unaccounted for on the last day.> At least one of them seemed to be on their way now, judging by Lancer's own encounter and testimony, likely leaving two whose positions were unknown. It wasn't as if the others were entirely likely to be on the level, but the fact that they'd been willing to make an account of themselves to the church at least suggested they wouldn't be looking to turn the city upside down from the word 'go'.

She'd already taken care of one individual who likely would have, her own Command Seals a testament to his foiled ambitions. She very much doubted that dullard had been the architect of anything but his own untimely demise, so that meant their U.N. Owen was likely among the remaining two Masters. Following that, the question was whether or not they were the latecomer the Overseer had mentioned; the aftermath of the ritual she'd discovered suggested otherwise, but the factors were by no means mutually exclusive.

<But I think we have more immediate concerns.> And on that note, there was the matter of the Overseer's companions. Even more so than in Fuyuki, the potential for the Sako Grail War to go awry concerned everyone, and as far as Beatrice was concerned, the Church hedging their bets with a team of their own was understandable. Not disclosing as much was perhaps a little more dubious, but with all the uncertainty around them, perhaps that prudence was for the better.

They seemed to have picked their Master well, at least. Charming and shrewd in equal measure, and shamelessly bold when it came to her interests; she'd be a hypocrite to disapprove. That just left making sense of the girl's apparent Servant.

<Considering the circumstances, I think she's about as likely to be Assassin as she is to be Lancer.> The flow of information continued, playing back what she'd observed of the mysterious woman. Though maybe 'mysterious' was the wrong word: puzzling felt more apt. Loud, colourful and flamboyant, she was like an open book compared to her likely Master; but one that offered no easy answers, concealing whatever truth it held amidst an overload of information.

<I'm slightly less confident about ruling Berserker out, but it doesn't seem to fit the arrangement.> There wasn't enough certainty to make a call on the woman's identity, but the information they had could still help them determine a broad plan of approach. And while the Servant in question didn't give them much to work with to eliminate any of the remaining four classes...

<What did you manage to get out of your close encounter?> Perhaps the Servant Lancer had just encountered would offer a little more clarity there.

"Good eyes. Built like one that's not unfamiliar with the direct fighting we expect here. Fancies himself a smooth talker, independent, and stealthy in his own way. But too open, too well built for the sort of duplicity in talk and battle you would normally expect from an Assassin. A magus, but unless he was better at hiding himself than I thought I would not assume him a Caster. Too controlled in the face of everything for Berserker, to my mind."

Not that every Berserker could be assumed to be a raging maniac, especially if their mad enhancement had not been triggered—but there was a certain instability he had come to associate with similar types in life, Sétanta having been one of many. Whether it be an uncontrolled temper, a divorce from reality in some aspect...there were many things he'd known to look for.

The servant who had addressed him bore none of those.

"I figured him for either a foolhardy Rider, an overconfident Saber throwing his weight around, or an Archer. He had the sense of a hunter. The way he moved, the lay of his muscles as he turned and walked away from me...I called him out as such as he walked away. I must have touched a nerve, because he finally made a point to try and hide his reactions when I did."

As information flowed from his mind to hers in full detail, Beatrice pored over Lancer's recollection, weighing up his words against the finer details of what he'd observed. A tall, well-built man with a confident demeanour; or at least that was how he chose to present himself, until Lancer refused to play along with his games. He might have felt her recoil a little, as if recalling bad memories, but it soon passed, and she returned to analysing the information.

The picture Lancer and his memory painted for her was of a man neither careless or quite so controlled to fit satisfyingly into the role of Berserker or Assassin. While she wasn't as certain as him that they could rule Caster out, considering her own experiences, perhaps that was just her ego talking. Of the remaining options, it was hard to make a conclusive judgement; but perhaps, as with the strange woman she'd encountered in the church, it was best not to assume too much too soon. Lancer seemed to believe he fit most readily into the role of Archer, judging by his observations, and she wasn't inclined to disagree...

"Don't forget to say hello to the Einzberns for me." But as she ran his recollection of the encounter through her mind, something else interesting sprung out to her.

It wasn't exactly unusual for the Servant to speak of the Einzberns. She was sure any Master worth their salt would have warned their Servant of the war's most infamous founders, of whatever ridiculous entity they would bring to the table for this last hopeless grab for their insane dream. But for whatever game the man had intended to play, the comment seemed more than a simple ploy to ascertain where Lancer stood; there was a very palpable rancour in the way he spoke their name, his tone dripping with contempt that seemed misplaced for one working off of secondhand recollection. The story of the Einzberns extended back into the distant past, but they were reclusive, with the Holy Grail being one of an infinitesimally small number of affairs they held outside their fief. Had this Servant known them in life?

<That's fine intelligence indeed, Lancer, fantastic work.> In the end, it seemed like they'd both come out of the trip to the church with some useful information. As Lancer took every available opportunity to note, however, tarrying into the night was going to leave them vulnerable, and so she picked up her pace as she offered her praise. She'd picked out a few spots over the past handful of days in Sako that they could use as temporary bases of operations, and if they could make it to one without incident, they could go over their discoveries at greater length there. <We should get set up for the night, where do you t->

Beatrice's words cut off sharply, and she tugged on her link with Lancer to beckon him back to spirit form as she stopped in place. Up ahead, against the setting sun, she could perceive another figure making their way up to the church through the clearing in the trees behind it. One of the outstanding Masters, coming to announce themselves? Clearly not one who put much stock in the armistice that existed upon the church's grounds, if that were the case; but at the same time, seemingly not one who was out to take advantage of that arrangement for their own ends. She resumed her path forwards, narrowing her eyes, focusing her senses to peer through the haze of dying light to better appraise the approaching form as she did-

...

"Don't waste too much time, now." She heard Lancer's voice, but it suddenly seemed far away as she realized who was approaching them.

"I'd ask what you're doing here, but I really should have expected this." Beatrice's tone was cold and level, but Lancer would almost certainly perceive the sudden buzz of static, of intangible and imperceivable thoughts going every which way through her mind as she came within speaking distance of the all-too-familiar woman. "Got tired of hiding away, did we?"
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