Yukitamas

Toaru Majutsu no Index (A Certain Magical Index)/ Toaru Kagaku no Railgun (A Certain Scientific Railgun) Roleplay

加似得 千着
Kayne Senki

Centerpiece

Academy City's Hearthrob

Gender: Male
Age: 17
Birthday: 3/11
Height: 179.8
Weight: 65

Nationality: Japanese

Personality:

An absolutely self-centered, self-assured individual. While not even necessarily meaning to be arrogant or superior, it’s a natural line of thought that’s central to him. His existence and self could be said to be a filter that his thoughts start on.

Perhaps it could be best said that he believes that he has the ability to effect the world, and that for better or worse, his life, and the events around him hold a relation to his own actions. One who is a master of his own destiny, and is in turn supported by it.

Proud, he holds himself up to a self-set standard, and to the responsibilities of his (overinflated) position. The eldest male, and therefore heir to his prestigious family. Supported and encouraged to go to the famous Academy City (so the unsuited failure could be gone for a while), he lives a life full of blessings and fortunes to live up to his family name and status.

Ah, if only if they’d raise his level. Someone like him can’t be a 0!

With the feelings of a not understood genius carrying the secret knowledge of, and crusade against those who wield magic due to his sister (and unknowingly the rest of his family.) It could be said that his petty vengeance is the cornerstone to making him feel extra-special instead of merely gifted..

Biography: A beautiful gifted child born to a wealthy and affluent family. The life of Senki was certainly one that was destined to be blessed.

If not for one problem. His blessings, his special ability, his abnormality from birth made him ineligible as a true member of his family. The Kayne were a family of magic practitioners. Due to Senki's status as an Esper making him unable to utilize magic he was kept in the dark and was, unknownst to him, looked upon as a black sheep, with his younger sister coming to inherit the path of his family and their knowledge. Consequently to get rid of him he was sent to Academy City. Senki for his part saw this as an extreme show of trust and the fact that he was worthy of his family legacy and status as the eldest son. After all what young child is sent to the famed city of advancement and science to live alone as a student? Obviously the gifted and special.

With his ability excelling at his studies, doing well with other kids and various other obstacles in life for a young boy were a breeze to get through. Although he still continues to fume about his (in his opinion) completely undeserved level of 0.

While he never discovered his family's true background, he eventually discovered the fact that his sister practices something strange and barbaric like magic, and so has come to shun and despise her, calling her, ironically, a black stain upon the Kayne. This distaste has caused him to hold a great dislike for mages in general, even if he accepts his sister to an extent due to the obligation of blood, and finds her presence (after she decided to move in and live with her brother at some point to keep her eyes on him and spend time with him) more than annoying.

School: Eiri Highschool
Grade: Second Year Highschool
Skills:

Academic top, skilled scooter rider (eventual plans to upgrade to a motorcycle. Has a license.) skilled at wasting hours at video games, tech savvy in comparison to an average user. That is to say, someone who’s googled up a few things and keeps up with trends.

Krav Maga (False [Karate True]): He’s looked up a lot of books and internet guides. He has never actually met a person who practices it. He considers himself an expert.

In truth he learned Karate at a local dojo growing up. Talented enough at it, he reached the level of a black belt.

But Karate just isn’t all that cool or hip, especially when one is at a place like Academy City which is the cutting edge of cutting edge.

Good at karaoke and holding his liquor (It’s cool to drink as an underaged student)

Faction(s): Academy City Student

ESPer:
Ability name: Centerpiece (BlessedFocal Point)
Level: 0
Premise: N/A: Attraction (Fortune) : Gemstone
Description: Theorized to be a strange ability with a limited form of AIM Diffusion Field Resonance that causes other ESPers to gather to him and notice him. In a sense an AIM that forces itself to imprint and focus the attention of others onto him. It is thought that his large AIM is due to the nature of this ability.

In truth an in-born natural supernatural quality to Kayne Senki. His ability makes him into a nexus of fortune and blessings. A recipient of all the good in the world, and where they all intersect.

Another way to look at it is that he is one where those with talents (Magic or Espers) gather to. This ability is part of why he’s managed to become so popular, and partially why he’s able to continue his secret strange petty vendetta as he’s accosted by, and is able to find magic users.

Both as a matter of a blessing and fortune, as a wish, a lucky thing and as a divinely ordinated fate, along with his ability to draw others to him, his already pretty good looks are made to look stunning and it’s said that many girls fall in love with him.

Truly the heartthrob of Eiri High School.

Naturally such an ability has interesting possibilities when it comes to interacting with other Espers and various phenomena, but at its current stage, and his current knowledge and ability it's primarily a matter of attracting things, people and supernatural luck/fortune.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Greengoat@Addamas

DDD

He roared, emitting sound and magical energy outward. The car that was already brimming and bursting with flames and magic exploded outwards in a zooming blast that propelled him out like a bullet. Crackling and surrounding the car like armor, it made for a shield for the Berserker as he escaped himself with his disengage skill. The “car” was devoured by the light of the sun. The Loser King left the battlefield.

He heard a command from his master, and considering the fact that Archer was escaping just fine on his own, he considered his first task completed.

The rattling of bones managed to somehow mimic the sound of burning rubber as he took a turn and made his way towards the DDD.

Various Anathanoi appeared on the streets with bows and arrows to strike at the Lyaeus. The Loser King was used to a fight in his wake even as he left. A sane man would expect the Lyaeus to simply give pursuit, or to transport themselves to another foe. But Berserker treated them as an army, depositing a few dozen to strike at them as if to tie them down. But soon the skeletons were either destroyed or left by their own… at which point they simply just stared awkwardly at each other until they faded away to be brought back to their king.

Attracted by the other army, Darius made his way to the Marshal. The wrongness of the army was shrugged off, ignored. Not that he noticed to begin with. An army was an army, whether they be ghosts, alien creatures, soldiers or the undying. To begin with his Anathanoi was hardly anything normal.

An army was its soldiers, but it was also their leader. If this Anathanoi was the immortal and yet dying army that represented his rule, taken form as skeletal beings. Then it was not strange for the army to be alien and odd with their leader being a gateway himself in his flesh.

The Immortal Anathanoi was brought forth, Darius presenting himself in his traditional manner, riding upon a Elephant of death and accompanied by his soldiers as they unleashed their own attack.

A raw charge. Chariots rode in, sometimes even struck down by stray cannonballs. Skeletal worms ruptured through the ground, burning with the raw energy of strife that fueled them from the tomb that was carried on the king’s elephant. The two armies clashed in a maelstrom in a sense. Arrows rained down on the Lyaeus and soldiers alike by happenstance and the charge of skeletal giants, the thrashing of the worms and soldiers would surely drag some of them down as well.

Yet what was lost would be regained, what was lost would be rebuilt and replenished. The focus of the army of Darius was upon the enemy, but the casualties that unfortunately happened on both sides due to each other would only strengthen him further at the least.

How chaotic.

Ths was indeed war.

Southern Moors

Teodoise

“The ground?” he mumbled to himself before beginning his work.

His mind took in the positions of the two, the trajectory of the roots, and the enemy.

Displacement magecraft was a thing that was hard to master.

They seem to not take mind of visual obstructions. It is likely that they have some form of pure eyes, or clairvoyance. Mhm, perhaps it is a sort of feed of data or the perspective of a higher level being? Their spiritual foundation is that of a non-human and they are all close to identical after all." He raised a hand.

Various blows from the trees and plants were displaced, moved so as to strike the Lyaeus itself. The ones that he took care of were the ones he saw were the largest obstruction to Raikou’s possibility of movement.

The chance that she would go this way, what she could manage if she leapt that other way… In a sense he was opening the path most likely to bring them an escape for her while counterattacking with the beast’s own attack.

If it were simply a matter of opening the path he could have shot and burnt past the plants. This was a test of their capabilities as he observed and analyzed the reaction to the lightning of Gozu-Tennou. Yes. There were many that would not understand what was happening with that magical energy, but to one of Atlas... with the machine within his body… It was a matter of learning more about the rules of that process.

Nothing was concrete, nothing was beyond the creations of mankind. That was the hope of some. If one was prepared to fight the inevitable end of humanity, if one was part of that mad workshop, then even something like a magical defense that would absorb all attacks would be something they would work to conquer.

Speaking of.

Well, let’s see how this works.

The wind rushed across his face, carrying the smell of ozone and the storm of dust that caked onto his face.

He turned the gun towards the Lyaeus. Analysis of enemy foundation and conversion of energy. Injection of Kamidoku and magical energy at the corresponding concentrations. Formation of prepared “bullet” by binding the formula to the nail. The gun was more a factory, built from his knowledge and his body rather than the weapon itself. Like a 3D printer that worked off the settings that came from Idris and his own processes.

Then what indeed was he fighting with?

What he held in his hand was a bullet meant to kill a Lyaeus and only an Lyaeus.

He squeezed the trigger.

With a blast of magical energy the nail flew, seeking out the Lyaeus, screaming for its death as the two escaped the grasp of the liberator.

“They’ll catch up!... with a 50-50 chance.”

It was not a calculation born from his mind, but rather a simple casual guess. He didn’t have the time to worry about that, nor the true ability to predict things with how murky the model of the future became with the fate-defying capabilities that were so concentrated in this city.

What a strange moment to be playful. But he was already being carried by a child.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Floodtalon @Addamas

The light of a sun. A great noble phantasm that he could struggle against, and perhaps stop at the cost of his life. But luckily there was nothing that he had to now protect behind him.

The Berserker flew, both propelled by his own strength, plus a bit extra. Stomping down on his car, and shoved up by the anathanoi, the vehicle scattered, the soldiers sent flying to the sides in a explosive burst. The release of the Lyaeus scorched only the empty path as the anathoni dematerialized and rematerialized to meet Darius where he landed. His vehicle reformed again, only letting out a strange whine when he landed. Already in motion, Darius was able to drive past the Lyaeus and to his ally. His own disengage skill kicking into action as he picked up the pressed Archer who did an admirable job retreating on his own. With the lofty rank of A there were few who were as good at running and retreating than the Loser King. Together the two drove towards the church.

Huh, wasn’t that the wrong way?...

Despite the limits in speed of a vehicle, the distance was still nevertheless devoured swiftly. Even if it could not match a servant in a burst, the travel speed of the Anathanoi Mk-2 Reform was something that exceeded the capabilities of cars in the 21th century.

Soon two servants arrived at the grounds of the Church, only to find that there was a second battle there as well.

To make the world beautiful, to save the world. Well, if one had to choose it was indeed a matter of opinion.

To aim for a utopia, to aim for the best possible present.

To aim for having a future, for continuation. What Atlas desired was of course to save the world.

But for now he’d settle with saving his own life as they retreated. He held onto Raikou. Despite the circumstances he found it quite amusing that he was being carried in such a way by a much younger girl.

For now he continued to watch, analyzing the actions of the strange anomalies. For now it was the stage of Saber, and hopefully soon after that, neither of them at all.

But he kept an eye out, ready to command Saber if something happened.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Floodtalon@Addamas@Phonic@Undyingregret@Dosthou

Southern Moors

Power and answers, hmm? Well, as for me. One could say it is a matter of fighting for an answer, or a matter for fighting for recognition. The answer is what is going on in this land? But as for what I am fighting for personally beyond this conflict?

Why, that’s simple. We’re trying to save the world.

Ah, that was what he said moments ago and it certainly was his goal even now. But the premonition that swept all of the city brought him to think that perhaps it would be a bit more of a brute example that would show that struggle than initially expected.

“My. Saber. It looks like that something new has happened, something that seems much beyond any calculation or projected expectation. I don’t suppose that even the great ogres of Japan had anything on this? Looking at all of this, it might be best to instead ask the ones we’re visiting for some help.”

He became silent as he took a gun in hand.

The collapse of bounded fields. The territory of the servant they were hunting was stripped and revealed the moment it faded away. What sort of monstrous phenomena was this? It wasn’t as though it was some sort of mere ritual, or even something that was a Noble Phantasm. No, this reached farther and further than anything he would have known to be possible in Japan. Teodoise became silent for a moment before picking up his pace towards the home of Gilua.

“Perhaps we should go find some others after we get out of this in one piece.”

After all, it seemed that some other entities of a extremely high status were approaching the moors. Idris was prime and his mind began to work even as he made to establish contact with the other participant in the war in the moor.

“Physical make-up, human. Spiritual foundation… Well, that’s certainly worrying. Saber. Mhm, at this point I’d say we should run.”

The concentration of energy and poison best suited for these foes was determined in his mind The shot to kill these foes prepared. Hopefully it wouldn’t quite come to a drawn out fight in the Moors.

Enhancing his vocal chords he addressed the Assassin and magus that they had been tracking while calculating the best escape route for their parties.

“There’s not much time to speak, I’m afraid. But I’d like to ask if you’d like to leave with us and go find some others to prepare for this figurative storm, Saber and I are more than happy to have a new friend.”

The world saw the birth of an evil and all of man reeled. Ah, he would have to fight to preserve this war, this city, this planet. If this world were to be ruined then that man would not come to conquer it. IF he wished to fight that man then this garden, this battlefield would have to be preserved.
The lumbermill was abandoned, the Anathanoi roused to wage war once more.

Although in this case the form it took was again rather unorthodox. In accordance to his order to “pick up Archer” he decided to mimic what he had seen before in this city, the eavesdropped upon moment giving a enjoyable impression of a shape and construct.

Skeletons wrapped around each other and his tomb to form a chassis. But this was no chariot, or even a wagon, but rather… a car.

He slammed his ax, crackling with lightning and green flames into a slot in mimicry of a key, causing the construct of the dead to roar to life. The flames burst out of exhaust pipes formed from soldiers. Where the Anathanoi drove the roads broke under its weight and destructive charge, while what else was left was set on fire. Darius left a ghastly trail of ruin behind him as he made his way to the Archer of Lightning.

One of the Lyaceuses was in his path. With a further explosion of energy and flames the Anathanoi-mobile gained a burst of speed while coating the streets in a foul conflagration. Darius reached out to grab Tesla as he drove by. Plucking the servant from the streets as though casually picking up a choice fruit from the market, they continued to drive away even as his ally was placed in a somewhat uncomfortable metal seat right by the giant of a king. The answer to the liberator did not matter in the end. Even if Tesla were to agree and side with their foe, the berserker committed to the order given. Pick up Archer.

???

The chase of three of those… things was harrowing. Existences that were definitely not servants, existences beyond a servant. Yet they were also incredibly similar to his family-line. Those who took in divine existences into themselves. Well, not that any of them really had the ability for that before, but there was a time where their bloodline was offered as the vessels for the gods.

Still, he could not quite figure out what exactly these beings were. Combined with that ingrained knowledge and understanding that a calamity descended, even if he did not know its identity or its true nature. It was clear that something was at work that would bother even him.

Hmph. If Fuyuki were to be razed completely now, then there wouldn’t be a chance for him to enact his revenge and take what was rightfully his.

He would have felt better if it was something woven by his hand, but it wasn’t as though it was a controlled or intentional consequence of his servant’s wandering.

A explosion ripped through the streets as a demonic spear that was not the arm of Achilles struck. It was not the power of a servant, but it was certainly a weapon that could bring destruction that would make even one take notice.

As though it were simply the introduction and fanfare for his introduction, a call patched through to Benita as a figure revealed itself, speaking into his device as he made his way to those collected at the DDD. Slipping into the premise and out of the streets. As he walked in through the doors, a following floating trail of knives that glowed with the light of the sun, looking as though it were the wing of an angel attached to the man, before they flew off to pelt one of the Lycaeus in a enveloping light that scorched.

Call

“Bentia boy!” The words were airy, giving no impression that he’d been running for his life non-stop for quite a while. The impression was that his voice was filled with a sort of coddling tone, in the manner that a parent spoke to a child from above. Or perhaps more accurately, the way a person spoke to a pet that was a curiosity of sorts. It was the way he always spoke to her. It was a manner that held more affection than when he seemed to deal with people.

The understanding then was that he was a man who disliked humans. His identity was clear to Benita. Codename Quagga. Otherwise known to the homunculus as Braze Dahe. One of the members of her circle.

The man in question turned off his communication device as he made his way into the meeting room of the various masters of the war that had assembled. A rare smile of sort was on his face as he made his way directly to the one who had gathered them all here.

It seems that despite the dire straits all in Fuyuki found themselves in, his mannerisms and base nature hardly changed. “While I could say you have been performing admirably, doing nice for yourself what with making such a nice attraction that hardly matters now in the face of what’s come about, hmm?”

And then he turned to Altera.

“Saber, less standing around, more chopping and slicing. Chop chop… I mean that literally even.” Directing the woman revealed to be his servant, Braze then made to look over the gathered servants and masters. “Well. We certainly have a possession problem. Let’s get to work then.”

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Dosthou @Undyingregret @addamas

Southern Moor Shinto

Mmhm.

What a strange town this is.

"This is your land, right? Well, maybe not this city itself, but this island as a whole." He asked the opinion of his servant as he walked. The words he exchanged with her were surprisingly devoid of their business, other than a brief introduction of his purpose, of Atlas and a few requests he mainly had been asking about inconsequential things such as her thoughts on certain things they saw such as cars, or even the snacks peddled on the streets in what few places were still open as they passed by. Traveling in Shinto, New City, it was certainly busier than the western half of Miyama that was host to all that chaos. So there were a few things to spark up some idle thought.

While visiting the ground zero of all the happenings seemed like the most logical of things, the lack of accessible mana in many places of the city, along with the pollution of the river he noticed interested him first of all. He doubt that the problems of Miyama would disappear before they could be analyzed, so he went chasing trails that were a bit older before they were completely washed away.

As for his servant herself. Well, he had a few choices that he had been debating between. A slayer of heroes, a slayer of monsters, a great leader of men, or even a insightful detective.

In the end he decided to go with something native. A hero who slayed the threats to Japan, who overcame mysteries and great monsters. In a sense it could also be said that she overcame herself. It seemed a good choice then for this investigation that would have the potential of opposing a countless number of legends. Both that of heroes and monsters.

Well, it didn’t quite turn out the way he expected, but it was something he ended up taking up in stride. Perhaps it was only natural with his origin that she’d end up summoned at this fork in her life. Perhaps he’d get to see which path she walks down. But there was no real time for leisure either. Little or not, immature or mature as long as they would complete their mission there was no real problem.

A master who did not chase after the grail. There was a strange air to him as an investigator and intruder both in this ritual. But that air always came from him. It simply so happened that it was most definitely a correct impression. Even now with a hero summoned he seemed to take things rather casually. Perhaps there was no use trying to surprise a member of the Giant's Pit who could put to form the events of the future in their minds. But how long would that last in a war such as this? To begin with there were too many things for him to take into consideration. He had done his research into the city and been given some information, but there were too many factors unknown for him to map a concrete image or prediction.

Only one way to fix that.

“I think that whoever who did that work did it expecting visitors. While a head-on assault might be a bit silly… well, it’s a good test for sure. “

Narrowing down the possible location of the party that added their poisons to the river, analyzing the taint and substance with Idris, taking it into Saber’s blade. He felt prepared enough for a fight, and certainly had enough of a trail to find the lair of this magus or servant.

It was a means that was leaning towards bruteforce to simply enter another’s territory or hideaway looking for a fight. But with a Saber it was as good a method as any to get the information he needed. Tonight was a hunt, of the poisoner of the river.

In The Woods Lumbermill

GRgrgrgr, hrg.. Haaaaaaah!”

The king shouted at his vassals and soldiers despite being unable to speak, and having servants that could not hear. To begin with there was no need for verbal instruction.

Nor was there a need for the helmets of the immortals to be changed into hardhats. But they were, with even Darius wearing one of his own.

During his adventures, scouting and pillaging through the city he came across a man who held such a hardhat, taking a break from the work on the hotsprings that was now the host to the meeting of the various masters of the war. Instead of throwing it into the door he instead took it, recognizing its worth and purpose as it was.

So he was using it quite properly as a good young boy does, following the rules. A workplace needed proper protection for all the workers, even the managers.

Another tree fell.

In short the pillaging of the Persian Empire turned upon the land itself. The forest around the church was being slowly converted into magical energy, tree after tree chopped down and pushed into the door by the working soldiers.

While he had magical energy to spare due to the spear of Achilles it was important to gain even more. This was indeed a means and method of a king, not a hero, who encompasses an entire realm and works on a different scale.

Still no matter how macabre a lumbermill of the undead was, it was in the end just a lumbermill.

What a silly thing.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Breo@Floodtalon@Scallop@Kyoka@Reflection@Enterthehero@Phonic@Manythings

In The Woods Church Outskirts

Birth of a Hero's Struggle

The shining comet rose again, but he would bat it down. This time he loomed over Achilles, this time he would be that which could fight a great hero.

Iskander, Iskander, Comet… Achilles!

The words melded together, the comet of Iskander that guided Iskander that he chased. The trails of glory that spread across the world. The tale that spread beyond Okeanos, beyond the oceans, beyond the mediterranean. In a sense it was a story that exceeded the world by filling the world.

He recognized Achilles. He recognized the comet. The relation to Iskander was deep, and what truly boiled his blood, but for this moment, for this frozen second, the berserker whose mind was twisted into a madness that saw only one man saw another.

Then came the crash of lightning. The lightning of Zeus, the lightning of that thunder god, the lightning of that chariot…

It could only mean one man.

▄▅▆▇!!!“ISKANDER!”!!! ▇▆▅

His world narrowed, his world blossomed. His madness surged, overwhelming him. It was rage and yet it was not rage. It was excitement and yet not excitement. What he felt, or rather what Darius found himself mantling was a complicated emotion, a complicated burden of his existence.

But the expression of it was simple.

He would fight, he would struggle against and defy Iskander.

The giant’s head had shaped into that of a lizard, evoking the Hydra of Greek Legend. The beast that would not die, the beast that would lay low the greatest of heroes. A perfect stepping stone for one such as the Comet. He had already committed to an action, a massive shield like the gate of a giant city swung towards Achilles. But his priorities changed.

He had to match Iskander as soon as possible. He had to clash his existence against his immediately. Everything else did not matter.

So he dropped the shield and swung his hand forward, sending a blast of individual warriors in the mimicry of cannon shots at the church, aimed at Archer. The shockwaves from the force uprooted the ground and left a desolate churned land. The trees at the site of the battle between the two legends crumbling and turned into mulch. What was a fertile forest became a ruin of dirt. Or perhaps it was more like an inversion, what was underground rising to the surface and the forest above being mulched and buried underneath. To ruin what existed and create the fertile grounds for a greater empire and legend. Perhaps it was an expression of the Loser King to the fullest.

Like a dozen missiles the skeleton warriors flew towards the church, projectiles overflowing with magical energy and sailing with the power of the giant.

Yet would that legend be able to match his expectations?

Darius moved, charging towards the Church, rabidly searching for his rival. Where was he, where was he where was he where was he? Iskander where are you?

Your lightning is here, your god is here, yet you are not here. Where are you?

His eyes did not see the Archer of Lightning, whether or not he perished from the barrage of the Immortals. Nor even if his ire was directed towards the giant.

Fight me, conquer me, slay me. I will defy my death, I will burn out my lands, I will crush your dreams.

So please, show yourself.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Man with a Mission

Teodosie Tomas Istaairyf

Character Information

Title(s): Coined Gun, Made-Man
Gender: Male
Age: 57
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Rank: Cause

Personality
A man who does not live too properly, which is perhaps proper as his place as a deviation from the norm. He recognizes both the values of normal people, and that of his fellow magi. Yet he does not quite live in a way that chooses either. In a sense he has a feeling of being an outsider, a deviant. Or perhaps it would be better to call him an observer. Someone who can see the shape of something in its whole without devoting himself to it. His ability to discern and analyze is therefore rather wide. Oddly he does not seem to consider his path an obligation or a duty. To save the world, to prove his family’s directions worth is something he personally enjoys. Related to such, he holds himself in a high esteem. One could say that he is prideful in himself, yet to take pride in something one was given, born with rather than one's work may be something that twists him away from most people and their values of worth as well.

All in all something about him can be a slight bit offputting, making him perhaps a bit hard to trust.

Objective for the Grail
If he were to attain the Grail then it would likely go towards used towards a project. However his concern is not the Grail War, but rather to be a scout for the institute, while also searching for information on the status of the first agent sent, Peregrinus. If need be his duty is to destroy any traces of Peregrinus, along with the products of Atlas that said unit has brought outside of the Pit.

..But maybe, now that he thinks about it. He could do That

Bio
A member of the Istaairyf of the Atlas Academy. He is both a product, and member of the family, born as part of the pursuit after the beginning of their deviation from being those who make weapons to those who make themselves into weapons. A designer baby. A child born with modified DNA. In a sense it is the designing and creation of a human with desired traits. A specialized existence. Yet one cannot confuse it for the coining of a homunculus. For the results are undoubtedly a human. Having gone on tasks before for the Academy, both as a means to see more of the world, and also to try and prove the validity of his family’s direction, and by extension, his own existence in the field. With the line of contact with the unit designated as the latest Peregrinus lost, a new set of eyes in Fuyuki to evaluate the situation that has grown to become a concern for the supernatural community was seen as needed.

Command Seal

Magical Information

Magic Circuit Switch: The computation required to adjust his own measurements into the ideal human proportions.

Number of Magic Circuits: D
Quality of Magic Circuits: C

While his magic circuits cannot be called amazing, compared to many of the Atlas Academy they are of a quality that could be said to be above-average. It is a result of investing into circuit quality, but not holding it as the highest of priorities. Furthermore his are specialized for the purpose of being utilized with the body, and as such his body parts are better than average as catalysts. In a way it could be said it very well suits his purposes.

Elemental Affinity: Earth and Fire

Origin: Intersection and Fork

Magecraft

Witchcraft
A section of Witchcraft centered around using parts of his own body. Hair can be turned into deadly needles, teeth can become a explosive fragment grenade. Nails can be turned into bullets. Teodosie is specialized in the arts of utilizing one’s body for magecraft, and also using one’s body as a medium to deliver magecraft. Not in the sense of angels and how they preserve mystery, but as actual vessels. It is similar to a certain Japanese girl, or fox’s arts in a way. With fire he is able to convert life energy into heat/generate heat within his body parts. With his earth affinity he better binds curses, magecraft, and other attributes to his bodyparts to make them into specialized tools. The creations of the Istaairyf are weapons. Their weapons are their own selves. Primarily he is focused on the utilization of his nails as bullets, both as the vehicle to deliver curses and also as cursed bullets themselves. His body, and nails have been treated so as to regrow and be prepared to fire as an automatic process. The concept is related to the Scandanivan Curse of Gandr, but not the same. It is also similar to a certain freelancer magus and his bullets derived from fingers. Augmented and permeated with magical energy, the sheer force alone is comparable to the ordinances of the modern day. As an aside, while it already is implied, he also holds the ability to cast curses in general.

Necromancery
Rather than the art of bringing corpses to life as servants and beings, it is the repurposement of the body parts into artifacts and spells. While this could be said to overlap with his witchcraft to an extent, the underlying principles are more rather bringing out the potential of the body, and utilizing its meaning. A hand will ward off curses. A finger will curse and bring illness. A heart will contain life within death (underworld). A liver would regenerate or show the future. Rather than something that utilizes the body as a medium, it is something that treats the parts of the body as potential tools and brings out their meaning along that vein as the forefront. As such it is no surprise that the Istaairyf mix with such a craft perfectly.

Flash Air/Displacement
Derived from western alchemy. It is nonetheless something that Toto has decided to take use of as a tool for his talents. While not on the level of a family that specializes in this magecraft to the extent that the container of the soul, or one's mental energy/spirit can be exchanged with ease, what Teodosie is able to calculate and analyze can be displaced. Often it is utilized with his nails as anchors and beacons to help facilitate the process better. It is also possible to transmit the effect of one's body to an area within one's "line of sight" (perception)

Atlas Staples/Thought Acceleration and Thought Partition
To divide the body and the mind is a thing considered foolish. The brain does not exist as a control unit for the body. Rather the body exists to increase the effectiveness of the brain's functions. So is the philosophy of the Atlas Alchemists who utilize all parts of the body, and the soul along with the mind as a unit for calculation. In other words they are living computers. The power of the human brain is an obscenely powerful calculation unit, and in this time there is no computation device born of science that can match it. In its optimized state the ability of the human body as a computation device would stand supreme even in the modern age of the early 21th century.

The maximum partitions capable by Teodosie numbers four.

Crest: N/A as an Atlas Alchemist.

Weapon: Himself. To elaborate on that... The hardware, or rather the parameters of Teodosie are, without a doubt, human. However he has been made to ensure traits that are useful for his purpose, including a reflex and reaction time that could be called higher than average, exceptional natural eyesight, and a generally fit and healthy physiology.

Mystic Code(s)
Analysis:Idris Graft (Foreign-Interior Psuedo-Spiritron Machine)
A gift/tool given to Teodosie as an agent who has left the Giant's Pit before, and the support deemed suitable for this mission at its current level. The alchemists of Atlas do not use magic crests, the means of preserving mystery of the west. In the first place it is simply not something that is required for them. However as part of his specialization Teodosie has integrated something foreign into his body for a function. It is not a matter of having something to calculate in place of the mind, but rather a analysis machine that works together with the body. Together with his own mind and capabilities it is also able to give birth to what he considers his trump card.

Further information is currently sealed.

Exceptional Benefit: Supply LineAn agent of the Atlas Academy. With the loss of contact with the first sent agent, and the growing worries about the ritual in the Giant’s Pit . Teodosie has been sent as a second agent, on a mission that is more than just a scouting mission. However the news that has spread to the magical world must be verified first-hand. With further information and analysis required the level of need and extents of support are still kept to a lower level.

A contact/information line is provided. Along with the supplies of a rudimentary budget, and a starting set of code support.

While the Istaairyf are considered oddities within the Atlas Academy, it is precisely because of their nature that Teodosie was sent as the second agent. In a sense the body of Teodoise could be said to be his weapon, yet the fact remains that as a member of the Academy that it is their knowledge and creations that are what defeats strong foes. It can simply be said that his creations are based around the self. That they are not men that are machines that create weapons for a purpose, but rather men that are machines that modify themselves as weapons. Such is the deviation that they have taken after the discovery of the most terrible inevitable truth. One could say it is running away to deviate in such a manner.

Setting

1 The Weight of The World

???

2: The Unavoidable/Promised ***

???

3: Gift of the Prophet (Idris)

???

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Breo

In The Woods, Church Outskirts

Fall of a King

The wall crumbled.

Ah.

He was defeated again.

He knew that even before the hit landed.

This would be a ruinous blow, a blow to kill, to destroy. It is a blow that would be fatal to a servant, a blow that would break him even if he rallied all his strength against it.

So knowing that he would be defeated he struggled to the end. Darius swung his axes, the blazing spiral of blue light of lightning and fel green flames raining two comets upon Achilles. It would not hurt him, but rather his actions were like a stake pounding a hammer. The full force of Darius who accepted his defeat and paradoxically struggled against it slammed into Achilles while the fist of the great greek hero blew through his chest.

Drive him lower and lower. If this great hero would climb past himself, he would push him down even further and smother him. A parting gift. Together they would travel the path to ruin.

The speed of Achilles and the strength of achilles was that even the singular moment needed to strike his heel was one that could not be attainable. Indeed, to hurt Achilles was in a way a miracle.

So he would accept death in exchange. The mire concentrated its strength, aiming for that miracle that Darius attempted to bring forth in exchange for accepting the punch that he could not deny.

The wall faded away, the army faded away. All that was left was the mire that was the last bit of defiance of Darius.

He was not a normal servant who would immediately stop fighting, or fade away even with damage to his core.

He flew. His chest exploded, his spiritual core damaged and the a full quarter of his body blown away. Yes, this battle was without a doubt a loss for the king who knew only defeat.

But he didn’t stop.

No, to simply kill him, to defeat him was not all that it took. He was the king who ruled over the immortal army who knew only defeat. To lose again and again and again, to be defeated so many times that he was sick of it, that it was the only aftermath he knew. Yet he was still alive, he was still able to fight again and again and again.

To simply defeat Darius was a matter of course.

To slay Darius was a given.

But this fatal damage too could be returned from. What should be death was not death to him. He was no great king, and yet the symbol of his legend were the famed Immortals. The warriors who were the never diminishing, never weakening elite force. The most famous soldiers of the Persian Empire in this modern day.

The armor he was granted broke. Not that it mattered with his body shattered as well.

Yet his skill, Battle Continuation which gave him the tenacity needed to shrug off such a state, to keep his army present in even such a state, to fight until he was extinguished kept him in this world.

The wall crumbled, the comet shined through and the dream of the warrior stood supreme. So what? He would try again. He would build that wall again. For most men it would be an empty boast, but for this stubborn king it was simply his reality and existence.

With his disengage his retreated, the power of Achilles added to his will to survive and ability to flee from battle, not that this was truly a fight anymore. Darius retreated to his tomb, entombing himself in his place of death, of his ultimate defeat.

Yet it was a symbol of life for him as well. For a man who abandoned his own hopes and ideals and dedicated himself as a wall, what could truly be said of his life. It did not live to fulfill passion, but to deny it. Yet that denial held as strong a passion as the actualization of a dream.

Was that not beautiful in of itself? To create the ultimate struggle, to make something beautiful into something truly admirable? It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t done yet, his foe wasn’t done yet. Iskander was not done yet.

His broken body that was dead repaired itself. Spiritual Core damage, fatal damage. None of that mattered. In this place, where he was entombed he would be reborn to fight again. He had been slain, he had been defeated. But that was a given.

He rose from defeat. He was not one who overcame, but rather one who forced himself to be what others had to overcome. A stepping stone he was called? How true it was. How laughably true. What pain was there in being told what one was? Especially if that’s what he himself consciously made himself into. No, it was a reaffirmation of his existence. What should have stung to any legend, to any hero was simply a validation of his purpose.

Ah, he had been seeing a dream. A dream in which he could overcome himself. Or was he simply looking at himself the way his foe saw him? How he wished to be seen? For a moment he dreamed that he was the challenger.

Achilles was indeed a great wall, while he was a mere stepping stone. But that was not proper at all, that was not how it was supposed to be. The hero does not block the ascension of others, the hero was one who had to rise. He’d been making a blunder.

He was never about victory.

The energy of the tomb, gathered from the spirits that had been harvested and the vast power released from the conflict between the Persian King and the fastest hero was almost overwhelming.

If Achilles had armor who would deny his injury, that would deny harm and deny defeat. Then it was only perfect that he held an army that would accept harm and embody defeat, only to rise up again.

Both were immortal in the polar opposite of ways. Yet for Achilles it was more than just his armor, it was his body, his own self as well. So he had to match that didn’t he?

Darius accepted defeat. With that his path became clear. A moment of clarity brought by the damage of his saint graph, by the overwhelming push that was Achilles, by his own thoughts reaching the conclusion that they sought all this time. He knew what he then had to do. A new path was opened.

As soon as he had entered the tomb the army remanifested. Or rather, the Anathanoi took upon a new meaning, a new shape in accordance to his resolve that swelled up in the face of that hero that he could absolutely not defeat.

The Athanatoi surrounded the tomb, or rather, they became part of the tomb, part of Darius. His army was never about the army itself. He was not the Conquerer who stood with equals and friends. He was a king who stood alone, who defied greatness by himself, when all others would not. It was a defiance that went beyond common sense, it was a defiance that went against even his own dreams. It was indeed a form of defiance that could be called madness.

This Athanatoi then was him. Death, death, death. He would accept death and strive with the vigor of life. The Athanatoi wrapped around his tomb, became one with his tomb, with Darius. It was no longer an army.

His army was for facing that man, upon the field and in the manner of combat that he shone in. That glorious conflict was for him and him alone. It wasn’t proper. IT wasn’t proper at all. He had to fight Achilles in the way that best suited him if he was to be the ultimate obstacle.

So ten-thousand became one.

The mire disappeared as they too were called to Darius after spending all their strength to maim and hold Achilles. The complete Athanatoi became a garb of defeat and death for Darius who was entombed. His entire legend, his entire self would become one to become Achilles’s foe. His standards in walls were high, after all… that city known as Troy. Was there a city with walls as great as that? It was impossible to match them, wasn’t it?

Well, good thing he wasn’t a city.

Monachikós Athanatos Darius

Lonely Deathless Darius

Nikiménos Éndoxo Táfo

Glorious Tomb of the Defeated

“ISKANDER!”

The roar shook the forest as a birthcry came from Darius.

He survived simply so he could be defeated and slain again and again.

He was never about being alive. But with that dedication, with that madness. It would be an insult to his way of life to say that Darius the Third did not live.

Overflowing with energy and passion to match the fast-burning comet, he loomed over the forest as a giant.

This was the final round.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Breo

In The Woods, Church Outskirts - Site of the Spear

The comet descended upon Persia. It was an inevitability, and so even in his madness he prepared himself for that inevitability.

Even in his madness the truth of what Achilles was something apparent to him. It was a tale branded in the acknowledgement of even those who drifted from common sense or sanity. There was no human that could not understand what that comet meant. To defeat Achilles was to overcome the fastest. In terms of trickery the king was nothing like the clever Archer at the church, nor did he have the gift of the gods, or even the ability of a great hero. What he held were the stations and gifts of the empire.

In the face of that strength why then did he run instead of marshaling his entire army? Why did he run when it was impossible for a mere king to escape that comet? Surely even he knew that the man’s ire was roused. That Achilles would stop at nothing and descend upon him with no mercy. Or was he so blinded by his battle against “Iskander” that he could not see the truth of his foe? It was true, an army could not simply stop Achilles.

No, that was not the case. The flight of Darius was not an attempt to escape. Rather it was part of the battle. It was inevitable that the great noble phantasm of Achilles would blaze through the Athánatoi in pursuit. So the Athánatoi would have to take its original place as a obstacle that struggled against a greater legend and being.

A wall met Achilles to separate him from the King. Prepared, waiting for this exact moment, able to block that speed that was practically teleportation by that virtue, along with the work of the wheels and fodder that funneled Achilles. The giant Berserker was covered by the frames of soldiers even larger than him. Seven legions had been shaped into giants, a hundred skeletons for each woven together to become titanic warriors carrying shields equally as large. Locking together to support each other they pushed against Achilles’s charge, preventing him from reaching Darius for the lariat, able to block his flight. They slammed into his form, flaring with their overflowing magical energy that came from the Lancer’s spear in a battle that resembled more the charge between two magical beasts than a battle of humans.

To compete with the speed of Achilles and his charge was impossible, so it was matter of making sure that he would run straight at the wall, at Darius. The enraged Achilles funneled by the army. A rampage and self-ruinous drive was something that he know too well. Yet this time it became his weapon, rather than his defeat.

They could not stop him forever, and four of them crumbled from the sheer impact from his charge. Yet it was enough. For they were intended to keep Achilles there before the king. The ground itself had become a pit of death, a macabre land of the undying presented enveloping the one who was immortal. Thousands upon Thousands of warriors had been mixed as the soil of Darius’s persia. Mired in it like mud, it would restrain even the Achilles who wore that god armor.

But it was more than just an attempt to weigh him down and halt him.

A king stood above their men, supported by their empire. If so to challenge a king was to challenge the weight of that empire. Achilles was one who led the fight against the legendary Troy. But he was a slayer of people, not nations. In the end Troy fell after his death, and in the end he was not one who conquered a kingdom. To snuff out a lands heroes, its warriors, was different from taking its throne. The kind of battles that Achilles fought were different from that of the one who admired him.

Mixed in together as a mire, as soil, as mud. The legend of a loser king sought to grab, to stop a star for a time. Grabbing at it with the passion and desire that he could not voice. They covered the bright shine of that legend with their own desire. Persia would break the Comet. The soil did more than try to combat the light of the fastest star.

Perhaps he would be called a sore loser. Perhaps he was a mad man trying to defy that which he admired himself. He was not a avenger who burned with resentment at the world, he was not a despoiler who dragged things down to his level. So he tried to rise, rise and rise. Rise and conquer, like that man, overcome the obstacles to your dream and ideal.

He was simply a stubborn man. So he wouldn't admit defeat no matter what, even against this greatest of lancers.

Darius raised and brought down his axes, swirling with crackling lightning and their blazing green flames as the three giants continued to push against Achilles, striking while protected by his wall and the mire.

The weight of an empire crushed and pierced the exposed heel, and the feet of Achilles with strength that could confront even that armor. The power of that soil and the energy that overflowed doing more than just holding him down

The felling of his immortality, the crippling of his speed, the strike of a king, the restraint of a wall. One may call it a crippling blow. For many servants the individual components of this clash would be enough to threaten or even destroy them.

But to Darius who lived his life struggling against a radiance that was greater than him knew. That such a “loss” would only mark the true beginning of his struggle. To strike the heel of Achilles was simply something that lowered him to the level that made him defeatable. It was not a victory in of itself.

That radience shined the brightest in one of the greatest wars in human history. He could not quell it with just the hell. He could not reach that man with just the first opening blow.

Retreating after his blow, even as his forces continued to battle with Achilles, he prepared for the next encounter. For he was never a king who finished a war in one climatic fight. A most unheroic way to wage war.

But that was how one defeated a great hero.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Breo

In The Woods, Church Outskirts

Loser king.

Defeated king.

A rain of arrows that could not harm him splintered before they could even reach him in the wake of his speed. A dozen soldiers were scattered like toys in his wake, not even having the chance to disperse into magical energy as Achilles passed through them.

The sound of bugs and the forest disappeared as the army of Persia swarmed.

Strange weapons were brought upon achilles. A storm of lightning raining down upon him as various skeletons fired guns that shot echoes of the Archer of Lightning’s own shots. Spraying across the ground, only part of them actually were aimed for the heel. The distinction was clear. The truth of his heel was known, yet in madness it was not an overwhelming truth that the heel must be struck no matter what. It was a piece that shifted the flow of a river, but it could not dictate the entire flow.

There was no hero of the bow who were behind these volleys. Yet it was as much of a danger of not more. Even to Achilles the blows that rained down upon him had a small risk out of sheer volume. The emperor held the yolk of madness, and yet his army still wove together as a singular unit worthy of the title of the legendary immortals.

A blast of lightning struck his thigh uselessly, a blow that he did not need to parry or block.

Yet every once in a while even that great hero would have his hand forced to block, to dodge, to acknowledge the blows of the anathanoi.

No matter how mad he was not the berserk hero who charged in with only himself. Darius ran, as he often did in the face of overwhelming odds. Yet it was not a matter of simply running away. Using his disengage skill he retreated, all the while more and more soldiers emerged between Achilles and Darius.

Balls and wheels of skeletons rolled out, faster than any car of the modern day, with weight and power to strike fear in any army of chariots. Of course he outsped them, but he was one comet surrounded by an army. Crowding him, surrounding him. They both struck at him and funneled him, both directing his attention towards Darius and slowing him down so that he could not simply reach the king. Egging him on, distracting him. It was inviting the recklessness of Achilles, a costly attempt to invoke in him the small errors that could be capitalized upon made by him in such a state.

A trio of worm-like monstrosities rose from the ground, hundreds clinging together, magical energy and arms both overflowing from them as they crashed into Achilles to bear the strength to attempt and force past the protection of the armor, not satisfied with just stopping his charge.
Even as Darius retreated more of his army gathered up, preparing for clash after clash with Achilles.

If there was one thing that Darius could pride himself upon without any hesitation, then it was his ability to survive and return. His battle was not that of a single climatic clash.

No.

To face him would be an entire campaign, even for the fastfooted.