“W-What?” Said Shirou Zelretch Schweinorg as the witch, Flora, spoke to him with a rather familiar tone.
“I honestly never expected to see you again Wanderer. I wish you would have sent word ahead of you so I could prepare a proper celebration! Quickly Schierke, go and gather the wine. I recall the Wanderer was quite a drinker!” Said Flora animatedly, twin spots of excitement making themselves known on her cheeks.
“M-Mistress?” Said Schierke, shock plain on her face as her Mistress continued to chat excitedly.
Shirou was doing something that only OS’ most outlandish pranks ever managed.
Shirou Zelretch Schweinorg was speechless.
Flora was a very powerful and ancient witch. Like any normal human a tenth her biological age, her physical capabilities had begun to deteriorate as her body aged. Her mind however, was untouched by the ravages of time, and as an extension so was her magic. It was much easier for Flora to sense the aura about a person. As such, she had come to trust in her metaphysical senses more than she trusted her physical ones.
When the young man walked into the room, she felt a presence she had not felt in eight hundred long years. A presence she remembered perfectly. An aura that was large, solid, and warm. Giving off an almost physical glow, a glow that was all colors and none, shifting from one to the other while being completely static.
Then she sensed something else, something that was missing, a small detail she had almost forgotten.
This young man did not carry the scent of blood upon him. Instead, he smelt faintly of smoke and steel, of sulfur and charcoal. This man had seen conflict. Been a part of war.
But blood had failed to permeate his existence.
Flora paused, her eyes boring into the young slider’s. “You…no you are not him.” Said flora quietly, causing the eyes of her pupil and guests to turn back to her. Such was her concentration that she failed to notice them. “You are similar…yet not. You carry his knowledge, but not his skill.
“Tell me child. Are you the son of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg?”
“Y-Yes ma’am.” Answered Shirou immediately, unconsciously adopting the manner one took when speaking to a mentor. “My name is Shirou Zelretch Schweinorg. Adoptive son of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Wizard Marshal, the Kaleidoscope.”
“I see, I imagine it must have been difficult. While he was a perfect gentleman, he did not strike me as the fatherly kind.” Said Flora absentmindedly. After a small shake of her head, her eyes sharpened as she assumed a more brisk manner. “What brings you to these parts Wanderer? The turbulence in your bearing must be grave indeed if it can affect a man of your mental fortitude.”
Shirou scratched the back of his head, unsure of how much he could and should reveal to the woman in front of him. “Well, honestly my companion and I are rather…lost. We are, stuck here until I manage to reserve enough energy to get her home.”
Flora nodded and spoke absentmindedly. “And seeing as to you cannot take the mana from the Greater Source, this time will be long.”
Shirou started at her easy declaration of his plight. When she noticed the slider’s shocked expression she chuckled. “Your father would go on and on about how much of a pain it was to access a world whose magical energy was not tainted. Seeing as to you said you were trapped here, I assumed that you lack the skill to do as he did. Correct?”
Shirou nodded numbly. “One hundred percent ma’am.”
Flora smiled. “Then I have a proposition for you Young Wanderer.”
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Shirou sat at the top of the mansion, staring at the moonlit forest surrounding it.
Even knowing the horrors it hid and housed, he could not help but feel that the forest was beautiful.
Light footsteps alerted him someone was approaching, prompting him to move one hand near a concealed knife on his person. Even if this place was supposed to be safe, it never hurt to be careful.
Schierke, the witch’s apprentice, stepped up to the roof and walked towards Shirou as the latter sat idle. “Mistress instructed me to tell you that dinner is ready and your presence is requested at the dining room.” Her message given, the small girl turned and began to make her way back inside.
“Mind if I eat up here?” Called Shirou back to her before she made her escape, causing her to pause.
“Why?” Asked Schierke in a flat tone.
“I have a feeling I’ll be making them uncomfortable. Whenever anyone other than Flora and Guts looks at me…well…I don’t like seeing fear in the eyes of other people.” Answered the slider as he turned his eyes back to the skies.
“Mistress said you would say that.” Answered Schierke. “She also said that the answer to that question is ‘no’ and that she would ‘love the pleasure of your company.’” With that the girl turned around and headed back down.
‘Man…what did I ever do to her?’ Wondered the slider as he stood and made his way down.
Once he was seated with a half consumed plate of steaming vegetables and fruits in front of him, Shirou had to grudgingly give them something.
They knew how to cook.
Strangely enough, no matter where one went in the multiverse, there was no Shirou who was not a cook. No matter the place, circumstances, rearing, limitations or reasons. No matter that simple natural logic dictated one of them somewhere should not know how to cook. Every Shirou in the multiverse had one thing in common.
Shirou cooked. He took pride in his skills as a cook. He was extremely defensive of his kitchen and cooking rights.
And he would shamelessly steal any recipe that took his fancy.
“It has nuts.” Muttered Shirou absently, staring at the mid-distance while focusing on nothing, a state of being that gave one clarity of mind and increased their awareness of their surroundings. Perfect for responding to an attack.
Or concentrating all of one’s attention into a difficult task.
“But it also has berries and a rather stale tasting leaf…and while normally these would not go well together, the leaf softens the texture of the nuts while canceling some of the taste of the too-sweet berry…genius.”
Flora watched the young slider with a supremely amused (and somewhat smug) expression on her face.
“With a dinner of leaves and fruit I don’t feel like I’m eating.” Said Isidro as he shoveled the contents of the plate unto his mouth with a total disregard of table manners. “It’s delicious tho.”
Schierke absently told him that it was good for his body, quieting herself when OS spoke rather boisterously.
“An’ this one nigh’ I found me this little knife I tell ya! Cute innocent little zing, had not cut a ting in ‘er life ‘afore! What did boss do? He BROKE her! And I TOLD him that I was itchin' fer a date!” Slurred OS, as Puck leaned against him with a small cup of wine cradled in his hands.
“I feel yaur pain OS.” Answered Puck, his blue hair moving in a chaotic pattern as he nodded his head with enthusiasm. “Life iz cruel like tha’. Like Guts ‘ere! ‘You need a warm bed’ I tells ‘im ‘You should accept her offer’ I tells ‘im ‘I’d like to cuddle against her she is warm’ I tells ‘im.
“But does he listen? NO!” Puck ended his sentence with a belligerent belch, before he concentrated on draining the contents of the cup with the desperation of a man in a desert.
Absently and with little thought, Shirou and Guts took hold of their respective drunk and shoved them into the container’s they usually carried. OS slamming into his sheath, while Puck was unceremoniously thrown into a small sack on Guts’ belt and the top of the sack tied shut.
“Ohh lemme tell ya, boss is a cuddler!” Said OS, his voice muffled by the sheath he had been shoved in. “I’m surprised he has not given the pink-haired lady the puppy dog ey-”
“Shut it!” Interrupted Shirou with no real hope on his voice.
“-es! She would MELT! And she’s called the Blazing General. I betcha that fire would go places! Bow Chika Wow Wow!”
Chewing a hole through the cloth that kept him from freedom, Puck poked his head out of the sack and addressed the sword sheathed at Shirou’s hip. “Not at all like Guts here! You should see the guy! He ask’s them e’ does ‘Do you want rough or gentle?’ then he just does em ta break ‘em he does!”
As the sword and the fairy continued to bemoan their luck, those seated around the table refused to meet each other’s eyes. Shirou and Guts had planted their faces into their palms in a movement that had a strange synchronicity.
Shrike and Farnese sported blushes bright enough to light up the night, not at all helped by the fact that Evarella, Shrike’s fairy companion, kept egging the two on by making small comments about what a woman would want. Isidro looked confused and Serpico amused.
Signum sat coldly composed, still taking dainty bites from her meal, outwardly untouched by the topic the two were hollering about. Her rosy cheeks completely demolished the cold façade she attempted to put up.
Flora for her part, did what she could to stifle her mirth. She had not had this much fun for at least six centuries.
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Signum Yagami sighed as she slowly settled down into warm, blissful heaven. The steam rising from the hot bath which was at just the right temperature. The numerous plants present both in the stone tub and the room itself. The soft herbal fragrance. All helping her relax.
Sounds of a quick struggle could be heard floating in from the window for a moment, followed closely by a high pitched squeal.
“And next time I see you trying to peep I’ll cut out your eyes and castrate you! Did you hear that!?” Screamed Shirou, his outraged yell vibrating through the wall. Signum chuckled for a while, before settling herself more comfortably into the tub with a small warm smile adorning her features. Pointedly ignoring OS’ voice as he used flowery prose in an attempt to convince Shirou to peep, stopping with a pained squeal as a thump was heard from the wall.
The door opened softly, causing Signum to start as she did what she could to protect her modesty. Flora stepped inside the bathroom and started when she realized Signum was present.
“Oh my!” Said Flora, covering her mouth and making an apologetic motion. “I am so very sorry! This is the time I normally come in for a soak! I did not realize someone was present.”
“D-Don’t worry about it ma’am.” Said Signum, her own cheeks coloring as she tried to calm her heart, for a moment there she’d hoped that-
Quickly shaking her head to come back to her senses she realized that the older woman had not exited.
Flora smiled at the pink haired knight. “Would you mind if I join you for a soak? It is not often I have a fellow woman to chat with.”
Before Signum could get her bearings, Flora had disrobed. While she sputtered, the witch washed herself. It was not until Signum finally regained her bearings, that she realized Flora had sunk into the large tub opposite her.
Flora let out a contented sigh. “Nothing takes the weariness off these old bones like a warm bath. Do you not agree young lady?”
“Ah, Y-Yes.” Answered Signum as she covered herself self-consciously.
Flora began to chuckle. “Child, I am approaching a millennia in age! Believe me when I tell you, you have nothing to be ashamed about. In fact I must admit that were I a few centuries younger, I would find myself quite jealous of your assets!”
Signum’s face colored further and she averted her gaze, her embarrassment causing the old woman to struggle in order to contain her mirth.
They proceeded to soak in silence for a while. Signum slowly becoming more relaxed in the old woman’s presence. They proceeded to chat about a few inconsequential things, until Flora schooled her expression into calm.
“Child, there is a thing I must inquire of you.” Said Flora.
Signum merely looked at the old witch and nodded, waiting to see what the woman might want.
“As you know I asked of my pupil to deal with the trolls plaguing the nearby village and the branded ones will go with her. The Young Wanderer will accede to my request of accompanying Schierke and keeping her safe. I understand you are traveling with the Young Wanderer, yes?” At that moment her eyes hardened, her light colored eyes hardened and the full weight of her millennia old presence crashing upon Signum pinning her in place as effectively as a mountain.
“Understand child that I bear you no ill will.” Continued Flora in a tone devoid of mercy. “It is not obvious, but one such as I can see that you are not fully human. Yet neither are you Apostle.
“I will not take unnecessary risks where the life of my pupil is concerned. What are you young lady?”
Signum was frozen by shock until another emotion barreled its way forward.
Fury.
“I am.” Said Signum in between clenched teeth the temperature of the room increasing as her anger radiated from her in the form of physical heat. “Loyal. A warrior. And a woman.” Answered Signum, meeting Flora’s eyes in an open challenge.
Flora looked at the younger woman, her face an unreadable mask, before her features once more softened unto that of a kindly grandmother. “I see, good good.” Her proclamation made Flora settled herself more comfortably on the water, “Aaahhh~ These old bones can’t help but adore the heat of this bath.”
“What?” Asked Signum with a cold expression, unamused at the older woman’s easy demission of her.
Flora merely smiled. “Child, I apologize that I offended you, but it is obvious that you are not a bad person. Even someone without magic could see the purity of your belief once you stated it so clearly. I can see that you are not fully human, but you are obviously not an apostle. And much more pure than many humans out there. That is something to be proud of young lady.”
“I see.” Answered the Knight, not changing her chilly expression or manner.
Flora smiled. “Now that we can leave the unpleasantness behind.” Flora’s smile widened until it became something predatory, causing a shiver to run up Signum’s spine and her skin to break out into gooseflesh. She recognized that smile. “What is the relationship between you and that young rogue?”
Signum’s blush was so bright it could have put the water to a boil. “W-W-W-What?”
Flora’s giggle reminded her too much of Hayate. “Oh child don’t be like that. Even a blind man could see the way you look at him!”
“I do not!”
“Not only that but you two get so shy in company of one another. Ooh! The beauty of youth!”
“Now listen he-!”
“So how close are the two of you? For the young wanderer’s weapon to be so open about it your relationship must be quite…heated.”
“Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa.”
Flora’s face changed from playfully teasing to dead serious in an instant.
“Already expecting a child?”
“WE ARE NOT-!”
“Oohhh what are you going to call it if it is a girl? I have the perfectname!”
“I-Buh-It-I-Hu?”
After that she could contain her mirth no more and Flora fell into unladylike guffaws while the poor Signum did what she could to regain her composure.
Once she got her laughter under control Flora spoke. “Ahhh, that was such a good laugh! I must say I wish the Young Wanderer and you would have come visit much sooner.
“You know…you remind me of me when I was…ohh…seven hundred years younger. There was someone I wanted as well. But like you, I was weighed down by duties and insecurities. And so I never reached out. I never caught him, never embraced him. It is the single thing in my life I can tell you I honestly regret.
“What I am trying to say young lady…is that be mindful of your duties, be careful of your trust. But one thing you must remember. You only have one life, live it.”
Signum was once again pinned by the personality of the woman in front of her. A shiver ran up her spine once more and she simply nodded, lapsing into a thoughtful silence.
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“Urgh, sorry for inconveniencing you.” Said Shirou as he half-walked/ was half-dragged by Signum as he stumbled along on the trail towards the old man’s village.
“Not a problem.” Said Signum without any strain on her voice, a thing that surprised both Shrike and Farnese. Signum did not look too muscular yet she was able to support a good portion of the young man’s weight for over an hour, a feat that neither one of them could have accomplished for even a few minutes.
“Buugah!” Said Caska intelligently as she attempted to snatch OS from Puck’s grip for the umpteenth time.
“Haha! You are a quintillion years too young if ya think such a basic attack will work against me!” Said OS with a terrible imitation of a pirate accent.
“What’s a quintillion?” Asked Puck and Evarella as they dodged yet another of Caska’s attempts at snatching the sapient blade from them.
Ignoring the three stooges as Shirou has christened them, Shrike stepped up to the young slider. “I’m so very sorry, I had thought that if you attempted the ritual of the four spirits you would be able to use the magical energy of the world like my teacher and I.” She said with some amount of shame in her voice. She had been quite surprised when the redhead had begun to projectile vomit halfway through the ritual.
“I-It’s not too much to worry about. It worked for the most part, but even a small amount of the corruption in the air is quite toxic to me. I’m amazed that the magi of this world have developed an immunity.”
“S-Still I’m so very sorry!” Said the girl as she bent at the waist.
“Meh. Ya owe me breakfast and let’s call it even eh?”
“Y-Yes.”
Stumbling on a rock, Shirou ended up putting more of his weight on the pink haired knight. A weight she absorbed without a problem. When he attempted to give her some relief from the burden she tightened her hold on his arm and hip.
“Tch. I swear you are worse than Zafira. He always has to be dragged kicking and screaming to sickbay, and he will insist on walking himself there even if he has two broken legs.” Said Signum in an exasperated tone.
Shirou grinned. “Man if you think I’m stubborn you should meet a few of my alternates.”
“Shut it, if you have breath enough to complain save it for walking.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Guts called up to him from the back of the group where he preferred to walk. “And here I thought you were tough. Never would have thought that a little magic would make you throw up like a kid on his first chariot ride.”
“Shaddap.”
“Hey boss!” Yelled OS. “Village ahead!”
“Ugh finally, I could use a bed.” Mumbled Shirou, the mere mention of rest causing him to sag tiredly, eliciting a grunt from Signum and making him do what he could to relieve her of his weight.
“Don’t get too complacent.” Said Signum as Shirou once more supported enough of his weight to allow her to talk comfortably. “Theyhave been having trouble with those creatures.”
“Trolls.” Supplied Puck as he zoomed about with OS making infantile sounds as Caska jumped about trying to catch him.
“Yes trolls. We do not know when the next attack could happen so we must remain alert.”
“Meh what’s the worst that could happen?” Wheezed Shirou.
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“Don’t you dare say I told you so.” Said Shirou as he stood drenched and chilled to the marrow, retrieving whichever of his arrows had survived the deluge Shrike had summoned to wash away the trolls.
Signum smiled and looked at him pointedly without speaking.
“On second thought.” Said Shirou after a few moments. “Go right ahead…I think I would lose a little less of my masculinity that way.”
The widening of her smile was Signum’s only response.
Shirou sighed and discarded one of his quivers. He’d only managed to retrieve four arrows, bringing his total to eighteen. All the others had been washed away with the bodies of the trolls.
“C’mon!” Called Guts as he strode out of the village in direction of the forest. “We are wasting daylight!”
Wordlessly the two began to stride forward with Guts, Isidro, and Schierke. Serpico having been wounded during the skirmish, remained in the village. As they walked, Shirou could detect a palpable feeling of satisfaction from the slab of iron on Guts’ back. Glad that it had drank deeply of enemies blood, yet far from satiated.
Shuddering, Shirou concentrated on his surroundings whilst keeping an arrow nocked with just sufficient force to draw it quickly, yet not enough to tire his arm for a while.
“Are ya sure we’re movin’ in the right way?” Asked Isidro after a while, looking around nervously, the shadows of the trees lengthening and becoming more menacing with each step that took them deeper into the forest. “It’s like the opposite of the witches mansion, place gets creepier by the minute.”
“We are tracing the lingering presence of the trolls, I am sure it’s thi-” Shrike was interrupted as Shirou pushed her somewhat roughly to the side, drawing the arrow he had held to his bow to his cheek and taking aim down the trail.
“Enemy movement ten o’ clock.” Murmured Shirou. Guts tensed mere moments after the declaration was made, his hand moving to the handle of his weapon.
Shrike straightened from her half-stumble and, not recognizing the meaning of his words, looked in the direction Shirou pointed.
Remaining as steady as a rock, the tip of the arrow was pointed at a small lumpy shadow. The small creature came shuffled into a patch of light a moment later, its bulbous outline resolving into something that looked much like a grown man’s head supported on a pair of lumpy legs.
“A face…What the hell? It’s a face. What’s a face with legs? How is that possible? It’s a face!” Babbled Isidro as he failed to understand the creature in front of them.
“Uuuuuuu! Think we can keep it as a pet?” Asked Evarella, causing a shudder to go up the kid’s spine.
“Wait, leave this to me.” Said Shrike, putting a small hand on Shirou’s side. She then closed her eyes and murmured a few words, causing the creature to start, its too human face adopting a grimace of fear and scampering away.
“What the hell was that?” Asked Shirou as he eased the draw on his weapon.
“It is an evil spirit of the mountains and rivers.” Said Shrike absentmindedly. “I had been afraid of this, the trolls have led us into the dark domain of the spirit realm: Qliphoth. This should not be possible, the material world should not overlap so vividly with the spirit realm.”
“Didn’t you say that Flora’s mansion was partly in the spirit realm?” Asked Signum as she looked around her, seeing spiders, frogs, fungi and other things of the forest, all of which had heads shaped too similar to a human for comfort. Their eyes too bright with the spark of intellect.
“That is different. The mansion and the field around it function as an anchor from which the spirit real may bleed into the material in a small controlled amount. Allowing for warm hearted spirits to help in the growth of plants and granting a place of stability in which they can rest.
“But for the spirit realm to directly overlap with the material, so much so that a person can simply walk into it without the use of rituals…it should not be possible.”
“That’s all well and good.” Said Guts as he forced his way forward, causing everyone to give way as if getting out of the path of a boulder. “But none of that is helping us get our people back. Let’s keep moving.”
The rest of the group followed his suggestion in silence, quieted by the atmosphere surrounding them.
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Shirou rushed forward, deeper into the complex tunnels of the troll cave, doing what he could to match the pace Guts set. The images bleeding into his mind from the link Signum had set up with Shrike sickened him, raw fury pounded through his veins as he rushed forward to the place they had been told Guts’ companions were.
The trolls would die. Each and every one.
He would not stop, he would not be dissuaded. Every single troll would die he would make sure of this.
No matter how hard he tried though, the Black Swordsman had longer legs, and so broke through the opening in the cave into the place the trolls had been r-
A red mist cut the rest of that thought off even as it formed, Shirou stepped up next to Guts as the latter emptied his repeating crossbow into the trolls. Shirou proceeded to imitate the Black Swordsman, emptying his quiver into the packed mass of trolls, each of the heavy arrows claiming the lives of two to three trolls as the tensile strength of the bow propelled them through the creatures.
Surprised by the sudden attack, the tide of trolls fell back, deeper into the corridors of the cave that served as their lair.
He faintly heard Shrike call to the citizens of Enock, causing hopeful cries to be uttered. Shirou did not notice.
Guts’ trapped companions ran to the Black Swordsman, Caksa growling at him while Farnese thanked him. Shirou did not care.
A flood of trolls bled out of the tunnels, scores of the ugly creatures barking at each other in their disgusting tongue.
“T-There are this many left? There’s more now than when they attacked the village.” Muttered Isidro with fear in his voice.
Guts stepped forward, reloading his repeating crossbow. The gift from Godo would claim the lives of these creatures as well as it did the lives of humans. “I’ll handle them here, you guys take the villagers and go ahead.” He said as he tossed his pouch with the explosives he preferred at Isidro.
“That’s crazy! These many trolls by yourself without any backup-!”
“He won’t be alone.” Said Shirou, cutting Shrike’s tirade mid-word. Dismissing the bow form, Shirou began to utter his incantation. He had the perfect template for this. Guts looked at the younger man before turning back to the horde of hesitating trolls, accepting Shirou’s statement without reproach.
“B-”
“Go.” Interrupted Guts returning the stare of the countless trolls as they swarmed forward not unlike cockroaches.
“Urgh! Men!” Said Shrike as she stomped on the ground and walked away.
Signum strode forward, walking to Shirou from the adjacent tunnel in which the women and children of the village had been kept. “If you are staying then so am-”
“Occult Hunter, Engage.” Vocalized the young slider as he finished his incantation. The Occult Hunter Template was based on a version of Shirou saved from the Shinto fire by a traveling hunter investigating the strange events occurring in Fuyuki during the Fourth Holy Grail War. With nowhere to go, he accepted his saviors offer to adopt him and spent the entirety of his childhood learning the ways of his father’s occupation. While he never discovered his magic circuits, he became a master at Formal and Ritual-Craft while also having developed a proficiency with mundane weapons that few could match.
He was dressed in a tattered black shirt with darker splotches in the fabric, blood stained jeans, and black tennis shoes. A tattered brown coat on his shoulders, its shoulders had stitching that took the form of a pentagram. Holy symbols of many different religions were also stitched on. Cradled in his bandaged hands was a Model Twelve Winchester pump-action shotgun, its barrel sawn off to a very illegal length. Two knives rested on his belt, and the grips of two pistols could be seen pushing against his coat from a shoulder holster.
He turned to Signum, the right half of his face having transformed to a burnt scarred ruin. His right eye remained the molten gold she had become accustomed to while his left had changed to a steel grey.
When he spoke, his voice was raspy, not unlike the voice of those whose throats were damaged from years of smoking. “Signum, please accompany the villagers. You know as well as I do that we ran past a good many trolls, they’ll need someone that can protect them.”
Signum remained quiet, stunned by the change that had come over him, before her expression hardened and she nodded to him. “If you dare die I’ll kill you.” Said Signum as she trotted and called out to the group of villagers, leading their retreat with Shrike and Isidro, Levatein shining like a torch as the group retreated.
The trolls took that as their cue to attack, coming forward in a way that resembled an avalanche more than a horde. Guts opened fire with his crossbow, killing or incapacitating trolls as they rushed forward. Shirou opened fire with the Winchester in the intervals Guts used to reload, buying the older man time to open fire again, then reloading as the Black Swordsman held back the tide with the deadly bolts.
The tide of trolls ebbed as they fell upon the wounded, biting into them with gusto. Even wounded, the trolls would not go quietly and fought back, wounding others of their kind, causing a small localized feeding frenzy.
Trolls never stopped bleeding from the tunnels, more and more of them crowding the cave and joining the feeding.
“Coming out in droves like cockroaches.” Said Guts as he put away his crossbow and drew the Dragonslayer, a palpable feeling of glee emanating from the weapon. “Hey ugly! When’s the last time you had yourself a good old massacre?”
The right half of Shirou’s face broke out into a frighteningly morbid grin. “Call it about five years, sunshine.”
Guts grunted his assent. “How many did ya kill?”
Shirou racked the slide of the shotgun, and loaded one more shell into the tube magazine. “Lost count after a hundred and eighty, I was not in the most rational frame of mind at the time…still have nightmares about it.”
Guts gave him another grunt. “Not too shabby.” He then leered at the crowd of trolls as they were pushed forward by the press of bodies. “They look mighty hungry don’t they?” A manic light entered Guts’ eye, “What say you we mulch ‘em up into ground meat?”
“I’d say that it sounds highly unsanitary.” Answered Shirou wryly, a light just as malignant entering his mismatched eyes. “And it’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said sense I’ve met you.”
The Winchester snarled and the Dragonslayer roared as the slaughter began.
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Signum grunted as she slew her umpteenth troll, a hollow boom to her left signaling that Isidro was still covering her flanks. Signum wanted nothing more than to burn all of the vermin to ash, the things they had been doing to the women and children of the village assured she would grant them no mercy.
To her chagrin however, she did not dare engage the trolls with anything more than flame-clad steel. Any of her more powerful attacks would cause heat to wash over the unprotected bodies of the village’s survivors.
“Stop!” Called Shrike, bringing their group to a halt.
“What’s up?” Asked Isidro as Signum used the moment of respite to calm her breathing and recuperate.
Schierke grimaced. “We’re caught in between two groups, eighteen up front and twelve from behind.”
Signum nodded, tightening her grip on Levatein and transforming the blade into a long serrated whip with a flick of her wrist. “You two hold back the ones coming from behind us, I’ll take care of the one’s coming from the front.”
“B-But that’s suicid-” Midway through her sentence Shrike wobbled on her feet and sank to her knees.
“What’s wrong!?” Yelled Isidro.
“Something’s, something is.”
Before Shrike could wheeze her explanation, there were a series of sickening cutting sounds coming from the tunnel in front of them, Signum immediately snapped Levatein back into his normal bladed form and settled into a guarded stance.
A black wind flew past her in an instant, rushing over the heads of the villagers and racing further into the tunnel.
“What tha?” Said Isidro as the black wind rushed past him and enveloped the trolls, the moment it reached them, their headless bodies fell to the ground.
“No time keep moving!” Wheezed Shrike in the edge of consciousness, urging the group forward once more.
Signum stood and ignored them, letting them pass. She had to fight every instinct screaming at her to rush down the tunnel in pursuit of the black wind. Her lips parted and uttered three words.
“A black horseman?”
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Shirou was in awe of the Black Swordsman, having never seen such a display of savagery.
Guts moved like a black whirlwind, the Dragonslayer cleaving everything in its path in twain. Trolls fell in groups of three, five, and six, their foul blood and intestines covering the ground and transforming it into treacherous mud.
Even so, Shirou had his worked cut out for him. Guts had waded forward into the thickest concentration of trolls, leaving Shirou to stand resolutely at the mouth of the tunnel the others had fled from, blowing the heads and legs off of any troll that managed to slip past the black colored whirlwind.
The Winchester has been incapacitated long before when a group of trolls slipped past Guts when the Black Swordsman had slipped on the muddy ground, forcing him to take a moment to regain his momentum.
Out of the nine, seven had died with their heads exploded or stomachs ruptured by the snarl of the Winchester. The eighth had died as his head was bashed in with the stock. The ninth had buried his crude stone axe into the weapon, the sheer force behind the brutal attack enough to severely damage the shotgun.
In retaliation, Shirou disemboweled it with his silver plated knife. Drawing a Beretta 96 from one of his shoulder holsters, he proceeded to support Guts in any way he could.
When the floor was littered five deep in trolls, what remained of the vermin stood trembling against the wall, the farthest they could be from the Black Swordsman and still remain in the room.
Shirou looked at the collection of scratches Guts had acquired as the latter absently pulled what looked like a spearhead from his arm and tossed it carelessly to the side. He then looked to his own twisted ankle and worthlessly hanging right arm.
“How the hell is it that you do most of the fighting and I’m the one that got hurt the most?”
“You suck. But still, those hand canons of yours seem pretty useful. Where can I get me a fe-” Guts suddenly froze, looking down into the pool of blood and innards that had gathered at the floor.
“What’s up?” Asked Shirou, his hand tightening on the Beretta, his index finger resting lightly on the trigger.
Suddenly a voice filled with sensual, torrid heat reverberated through the cave. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve inhabited a body.”Said a pale, lovely figure as it ascended into Shirou’s field of view, his body reacting in very physical ways to the lascivious hunger that rolled off her tone. “I must admit however, these troll intestines are rather lacking as a host.”
Shirou and Guts stood befuddled for a single moment, until Shirou broke their silence with the first thing that made it past his physical desire and mountain of disgust.
“That has got to be highly insanitary.”
A moment later Guts screamed in rage and jumped off the ground toward the figure, roaring as he brought Dragonslayer up in an arc that would split the creature in twain.
His attack halted as the…creature brought forth a pair of black wings and forced him to the ankle deep blood on the floor.
“GUTS!” Screamed Shirou as he uselessly emptied the magazine of his Beretta, the forty caliber rounds thudding uselessly into the pale and rather lovely body of the thing that had captured the Black Swordsman.
“Oohh? Wanderer is that you?” Asked the creature as Shirou wordlessly reloaded his pistol. “My my my… It has been such a long time. Far too long in my opinion~.”
It stalked forward, dragging Guts out of the blood and holding him close to its body almost as an afterthought. It slowly, sensuously licked its lips, a wide smile, promising pleasures uncounted taking form in her lips.
Shirou wordlessly brought the Beretta to bear, and emptied all fifteen rounds into her center of mass. This time it had an effect.
An almost palpable feeling of arousal emanated out of the rather disgusting construct.
“I was not pleased when you rejected my advances the last time we met.” Said the thing as it slapped the pistol out of Shirou’s hand. It then lifted him by the neck and pressed him close to her body, where he proceeded to draw his cold iron dagger and bury it to the hilt in her eye.
“Ohhh yeeeeeees! It has been much too long since I’ve had prey that fought back. Grant me a minute Wanderer, I need to prepare the Struggler for our…activities.” Its declaration made, it dropped Shirou to the ground with enough force to crack his ribs. It then planted its foot directly onto his chest and pushed him against the ground.
It removed the dagger from its eye and brought Guts up to its eye level. It then slowly, almost lovingly, cut away the straps holding the Black Swordsman’s chest-piece in place. “Now, show me your strength. Your rage. Your fear!” Demanded the apparition, its voice gaining in pitch and excitement each time it uttered a word.
“Let me drink of your pain.” Murmured the creature into Guts’ ear with the intimacy of a lover before burying Shirou’s dagger into the man’s flesh and raking his back with its talons.
Guts’ scream of fury, pain, and fear threatened to blow out Shirou’s ear.
“Defy me Struggler! Fight! Struggle! Scream!” It punctuated each of her words by raking its talons across Guts’ flesh. “Pierce me with this large thing! Grant me agony...Unless…Do you want to make a sacrifice?” It finished its sentence by languidly biting Guts’ earlobe. The Black Swordsman’s only response was a pained, hate-filled growl.
“Hey!” Called Shirou from beneath its foot. It looked to its captured prey and stared down the barrel of another hand-cannon.
In Shirou’s hand was a legendary Mystic Code, the closest any weapon made in the modern age could get to becoming a Noble Phantasm.
The Shirou of the template grew up with a very simple truth. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. As such, the man who raised him made sure he understood one very simple fact.
God made man. But Samuel Colt made them equal.
In Shirou’s hand was an exquisitely crafted Colt Patterson, a pentagram etched into its wooden grip glowing with a sullen golden light. Figures of what could be smoke, vines, or flame had been etched into the metal of its frame, the inscription ‘non timebo mala’ etched into the barrel in brilliant silver.
Shirou pulled back on the hammer, the weapon releasing a loud ‘click’ as it ejected the foldable trigger.
“In nomine Patris you bitch.”
Shirou pulled the trigger, a small localized explosion propelled the projectile of the gun that could kill anything directly into the thing’s forehead, snapping its head back at what would in and of itself be a lethal angle where it human.
A moment later what looked like a miniaturized electric storm took place in its skull, eliciting a cry of the outmost agony to emanate from its throat.
“NOW GUTS!” Screamed Shirou to the weakened swordsman.
The Struggler needed no more urging. With a scream of rage echoed by the weapon he wielded, Guts drove the Dragonslayer into the abdomen of the thing almost to the hilt.
Everyone froze, waiting to see if this foul creation would fall.
It opened its mouth. “Yessssssss!” Said the thing in the throes of what could only be described as incredible pleasure. The bodies of both males reacting to the sound against their wills.
“YESSSSSS! You are impaling me! Splitting me in half! Pumping my body full of explosively released metal!” It brought one hand to the Dragonslayer, pushing it more savagely into its belly. With the other, it reached out to Shirou, seeking to bring him into an embrace.
“Lovers…you are wonderful!” Its declaration made, it pushed its lips at Guts who pulled his head back in disgust.
It then promptly disintegrated into a pile of troll intestines and blood, causing Guts to fall to the floor.
“This has got to be extremely unsanitary!” Screamed Shirou after he spat out a mouthful of troll blood.
The cavern began to tremble violently, while at the same time the floor writhed like the organs of a creature. Chaotic growth beginning to consume all of the bodies on the floor.
“I have no words.” Said Shirou. “No words at all. What’s worse is that this still isn’t the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Shut your trap and get up we need to get moving!” Screamed Guts.
Guts pulled the slider to his feet. Looking around they knew only despair, the door to the cavern had collapsed or been swallowed by the rampant organic growth.
“We're not getting out of here are we?” Asked Shirou.
“Doesn't look like it.” Answered Guts.
“It would seem,” Said a voice that sounded much like tortured metal tearing itself apart. “That I arrived rather late…or perhaps just in the nick of time."
2012-08-29, 21:24
Author
. So, I thought you were referring all the way down to that message chain. Unless... I missed something?
