#caster gilles

[kryquy]

Happy year of the dragon

[hasmashdoneanythingwrong]

Context:

[fateful-romance]

Reigniting my love for F:GO again thanks to this fanart!

[indatsukasa]

Makiri&Bluebeard: искаженные méchants

[nasuverse-most-breedable-tourney]

Side A, Round 1 (Match 16) *Clash of Casters*

On the left: A French noble from the 15th century. He repeatedly committed the act of abducting neighborhood boys one after another in his own domain, sexually abusing them and killing them. Later known as the model of folklore's "Bluebeard". Gilles de Rais

On the right: The vagabond of paradise. The court wizard, prophet, and adviser from the Legend of King Arthur. He would sometimes guide, sometimes cause trouble for, and sometimes aid King Arthur as he fought against his many enemies and overcame his many trials. He was a sage, but fundamentally not human. He was, in fact, a half-blood born of a human and an incubus. The dick wizard himself. Merlin

[heavenelizabethleigh]

Breathe Chapter 16-- Jealousy Join my discord! We're a small group, but we'd love to have you! https://discord.gg/eftn4RfQmq

The hound clicked his tongue and pulled her closer to him. He studied her face as it crumpled beneath his scrutiny, “Stop worrying about it.” Cu tucked his finger under her chin and tilted her head, examining the fresh marks on her neck, “Thought you smelled off,” he muttered.

A shot of irritation shot through her when he clicked his tongue. “Why does it matter so much?” Cara suddenly asked, “You were pissy earlier too. Why? What does my sex life have to do with you?” 

He softly growled and squeezed her chin. The hound tapped one of the sensitive bruises hard enough to make Cara flinch, “Yer breaking yer own rules. A hypocrite isn’t a good leader.” Disappointment glinted in his gaze as his fingers brushed against them again, “You should know that.” 

A choked sound came from the Mage as she jerked back. Not trusting her voice to go above a whisper, she mumbled, “I’m still a good leader.” Her arms crossed as she tried to glare at the hound. The Mage’s heart clenched slightly at his tone, and she cleared her throat. 

“Are you?” He hummed, “Prove it to me.” A slight smirk spread on his thin lips as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed until she flinched, “‘Cause ‘m starting to think that yer slippin.’”

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Fed up of "Jeanne" refusing to remember who she really is on her own, Gilles Prelati's Spellbook to see if he can find a spell that will make her "remember".

Aka - Gilles de Rais brainwashes Artoria into thinking she's his heavily idealised perception of Jeanne de Arc

Oh that's fucked up <3

edit: now filled!

[avicebro]

this is the funniest line up ever, bazett please

[monstersqueen]

Alignment : Chaotic Good

so when shirou said that he felt something was different about her as an heroic spirit, rin explained that master tend to summon spirits that resemble them - someone noble will summon someone also noble, someone with a wounded spirit will summon someone wounded too, and someone twisted will also summon a twisted spirit, someone who was engraved in history for their atrocities, and that last case is what caused shirou to feel that rider is different.

it doesn't really fit with what shirou said though - he said her presence lacked power. but given that they think she was summoned by shinji, well.

interesting though that the example rin gives is nobility attracting nobility - like shirou and saber - and a wounded soul attracting a similarly wounded soul. which is exactly how rider was summoned

[hassiegfrieddoneanythingwrong]

Ha, no, you're good. I use the Last master of Humanity/Chaldeas and the master as generically as possible to fit all mastersonas/self-inserts/guda. I only use Gudao/Gudako if explicitly referring to them.

But yeah, lb7 spoilers had me apologizing to every servant for dragging them into this mess. Because dear lord no one signed up for that. For Kriemhild, that was her first foray into a lostbelt; what a first impression that was. :)

Ah, thanks for the clarification! I kinda do the same thing with Master in the daily posts, with a few sprinkles of personal experience (like being silly and giggly when sleep deprived), but I try my best to not do that so much and often that they become my own Mastersona (I do have my own, but that's kinda besides the point).

I know for a fact that I'll also be apologizing to all of my Servants once LB7 drops on NA + I get to that point (currently on the early part of Olympus, so I'm kinda getting prepped for doing so, lol).

[versegm]

You come to in the middle of an empty field, plundered by rain.

You sit up with a groan. Though the ground you’re own has long turned to mud, you find that yourself aren’t all that wet. Meaning that, most likely, it has been raining for a while, but you have only been here for a minute at best.

Well. Alright. Time for the usual check-up.

First: the area is completely unknown to you. While the flora isn’t widely different from what you know, you find that you are completely unable to identify them in any greater detail. Wherever you are, it’s vastly different from anywhere else you’ve ever been- and you have been in quite a lot of places.

Second: you are alone. A quick glance at your command spells tells you that your contracts are still active, just… far away. You can probably call forth shadow servants if need be. That’s reassuring, at least.

Third: there is a certain… emptiness, within your chest. It’s a sensation that is near impossible to describe, but one that is familiar nonetheless. You are currently separated from your body. Or separated from your soul? Either one.

In short: you are dreaming, as usual, and you got lost, as one does. Or as you, specifically, do.

A shiver runs through your body. Either way, you should get up and leave, else you’re going to catch a cold. (Can souls catch a cold? Are you currently a soul? Da Vinci had made it sound like you were, but you’ve always been a bit dubious. You know you’re some part of [Ritsuka Fujimaru] that got separated from where you’re meant to be, but what part this is is still unclear to you. Maybe you’re overthinking this, but you dare anyone who has ever read a report from Chaldea to tell you this is an unwarranted reaction.)

You get up, then look around. Thankfully, there seems to be a village nearby. You hurry there, seeking shelter from the rain.

It becomes quickly obvious that wherever you are, it’s not anywhere resembling present-day earth. You see a small catboy chatting with an orc in a shop. Right next to it, a goblin woman waving goodbye to a customer. It seems to be a pretty classic fantasy setting, all things considered.

You debate as to where to go for a few seconds, then head for the inn. You don’t think you have any currency the locals would accept, but if nothing else you should be able to get a seat in a dry place.

You push the door open. The owner, a tall wolfman scrubbing a mug, spares a nod your way. You take your seat in a corner. The is fairly empty; there’s a minotaur in a corner, armwrestling with a woman whose arms are covered in bright tattoos. A faun is nursing a drink next to them, daydreaming.

The backdoor opens up, and a woman walks, carrying a small drider. “Garth, have you seen-”

She pauses. You pause.

She is on the short side of things, her blonde hair long enough that it would reach her hips if she untied it. She’s wearing a light attire- fit for a mage, you are guessing. Three lines are tattooed on both sides of her throat, like bright blue gills on her pale skin. Her face is circled by a short, fuzzy beard. She’s wearing a ponytail, different from the pigtails you’ve grown used to, but you know that face. You know that face.

At the same time you raise your pointer finger, Artoria, Caster, she who chants, also raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes, and you both yell in unison: “YOU!”

The entire tavern turns to look at you.

“Ah,” The innkeeper’s ear twitches. “Friend of yours?”

“Paramour of yours?” Adds the minotaur.

“Man, is there anyone in the Frost Marches you don’t know?” Jokes the faun.

“Ah- it’s a long story. I’ll tell you guys later.” Artoria smiles at them. You’re shocked to see that the smile, while obviously hiding discomfort, is in part genuine. “Let me put the little one to sleep, and then we can go to my room to discuss, alright?”

Hidden meaning clear: we do not talk about Fairy Britain in front of them. Sure. You can do that. “It’s no problem.” 

It would be a bit awkward to just wait here though, so you get out of your seat and follow Artoria through the inn’s backdoor. It seems to lead straight into a- nursery, apparently. A dozen children- all bearing the lower body of a spider- play in the courtyard.

Artoria makes a quick sign your way to be quiet. She then heads inside one of the rooms, filled with cradles and a dozen more kids- toddlers, really- dozing off peacefully. Artoria gently kisses the forehead of the child she’s holding, and then lowers them into a free bed.

“Cute kids.” You comment once you leave the room.

“Thank you,” she replies, which is probably an automatism because otherwise it would be a bit of a stupid answer-

Suddenly, it occurs to you that while Artoria is just as short as you’ve always known her, she is still noticeably older. 

“...” You wring your hands together awkwardly. “Are they, uh. Yours?”

“Eh, only technically.” She shrugs. “Gwyn’s the one raising them. I’m more of the fun aunt to them.”

Your gaze goes over the courtyard again. Including the babies inside, that’s about twenty kids. “Been busy, huh?”

Artoria’s face snaps towards you. It seems like she only just realized what she just said. “I didn’t-!” She stops mid-sentence. Raises a hand. “That’s not-” Pauses again. Lowers her hand. “I mean, yes, but it’s unrelated to the number of children.”

You make a face. It does seem kind of related to you. “Hey, no judging, good for you. I didn’t know fairies of paradise could bear any children to begin with, it’s cool that you get to start a family if you want to.”

For some reason, Artoria’s gaze suddenly wanders, as if she wanted to look anywhere but at you. “... I… can’t.”

… Ah. Well that makes your lighthearted joke suddenly very insensitive. “Uh, sor-”

“Driders don’t need outside input to reproduce. They only need… uhm. A host. To. Carry the eggs.”

You pause in your steps. Gears turn in your head.

“ Anyways. Come over here, we’ll discuss in my room.”

“Oh my god.”

“I said come over here!”

“Oh my god, no, no, you have to give me the details Artoria. How does it work? Do they…?”

“ We have more pressing matters to discuss, Ritsuka! ”

Unfortunately, she’s right, so you let her manhandle you into her bedroom (you allow yourself a couple second to notice that wow, she is noticeably stronger than she used to be . She could throw you around like a sack of potatoes like this. ) She locks the door behind you, then goes to sit on her bed, tapping the space next to her. “Okay. Get over here. How did you end up here, of all places?”

You shrug, then come to sit next to her. “You know how it is. Falling asleep in my bed, waking up in completely random places. That’s just how life is sometimes.”

She stares. “Does this… happen often?”

Ah. Right. She doesn’t know about that bit. “Yeah.”

She sighs. Heavily. It’s more like a groan, really.

“And what about you? ” You poke at her shoulder, blatantly trying to change the subject. “How did you end up here?”

Thankfully, she takes the bait. “Eh, you know how it is. Sacrificing myself in a blaze of glory, waking up in completely random places. That’s just how death is sometimes.”

She says it in a joking, lighthearted tone. You feel like you’ve been punched through the guts. You’re used to that, death; seeing people die, and seeing them come back afterwards. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. It all comes back to you, the pain and the sorrow and the guilt I didn’t even get to properly tell you goodbye I didn’t even get to so much as hug you-

Breathe. Breathe. Compartmentalize. You’re good at that. “Sounds like an adventure. So, how’s your new life?”

“Oh, Ritsuka, this place sucks so bad, you have no idea.” She huffs. “There’s like, five invasions going on at any given time. You can’t take three steps outside of town without getting attacked by randos. Every individual settlement has about two hundred years worth of beef with each other. And they don’t even know how to work steel. Everyone does things with copper around here. It’s weird.”

She says it all with anger, but there’s something in her voice, a fondness that makes you feel soft and mellow inside. How much Artoria complains is directly correlated to how safe she feels complaining about it. For her to be so open about her grievances… “I take it you’re having fun here?”

There is a slight pause. And then, gentler than you have ever seen her do so before- she smiles. “The people aren’t too bad, I guess.”

When she looks like that, it’s very hard not to grab her face and kiss her on the spot. You don’t, though, because you’re pretty sure she’s in a relationship? Actually, now is a good time as any to check. “Found yourself a drider lover, eh? What are they like?”

She stares at you for a second, then barks out laughing. “Because of the kids? Nah. I’m not in a relationship with a drider. ”

Ooooh? Your gossip sense is tingling. “But you are in a relationship?”

“Believe it or not, I’m actually a married woman now.” She looks deeply smug about that. It’s adorable.

“Well, tell me more! Who’s the lucky one?”

She scratches her chin, smile widening. “My wife is the beautiful centaur princess of the southern tribes.” Aw, this is cute. You’re about to congratulate her on that, but- she keeps going. “I’m also the consort of the Queen of the Winter city. And I… have this weird thing going on with the leader of the eastern Orc tribe and the leader of the northern Siorc tribe? I don’t think there’s a human equivalent for it… I’m their alpha? It’s like, wife, but I officially wear the pants in that relationship.”

The more she goes on the higher your eyebrows fly. Not that you’re surprised Artoria can get some (you don’t know if she ever realized it herself, but a lot of people were interested in her back in Fairy Britain) but that’s still a lot to take in. “So you have been busy.”

“I- only denied that it had anything to do with the amount of kids I’ve mothered!” She puffs her cheeks. You can tell she’s not genuinely offended, though. “People here aren’t that big on monogamy. And very casual about sex.”

Huh. So like Chaldea, on a world scale? There are certainly worse cultures to have, in your opinion. “You’ll have to tell me those stories, though. How did you meet? Who made the first move? I want to hear it all!”

She snickers. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But first, when do you think you’ll wake up?”

Hm. Good questions. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wake up on my own normally. Sometimes I get stuck for days. It really depends.”

“Okay.” She nods. And then, with no warning whatsoever, she grabs your shoulders and hauls herself over your laps. 

For a couple seconds, you’re frozen stupid. You don’t know how to react. Her face is so close to yours. She’s pretty light, as you expected, but that’s still a whole person’s weight pressing right on the top of your thighs. You fear that you might do something unwise, but she opens her mouth first: “Wanna fuck?”

Your mind turns blank. “Come again?”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

You can’t help it. You start laughing. Your hands come to hold onto her, landing on her hips (they fit perfectly in your palms.) “I meant that this is a lot more direct than what I’m used to. Though make no mistake. I would kill to get to eat you out. Just so we’re clear.”

She blushes a bit at your words. “ Very glad to hear so.” Her hands come up to your shoulders. “And look. For all I know, you could wake up in thirty minutes, and I’d have missed my only chance to do this. If I learned anything from living in Savarra, it’s that sex is a lot of fun, you’ve got to take your chances, and I should have asked for more than handholding back then.”

You pull her closer to you. Her chest presses against yours. You can almost feel her heartbeat like this. Your chin fits perfectly on top of her shoulder. Her body is so warm. You can hear her breathing right by your ear.

She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. Despite everything, despite everything- she’s alive, and she’s happy. She’s alive, and she’s with you. She’s alive, and you’re about to get as much evidence of that as you could ever need, taste and sight and sound, skin and limbs and tongues.

“I love you,” you say, hugging her tighter. “I never got to say it back then. But I did. I do.”

“I know.” Of course she does. You can count on one hand the amount of people who know you as well as she does. Excalibur’s blade is a mirror, and the two of you have seen nothing but your reflection in it. “I love you too, by the way.”

She pulls away from you, just a few inches, just enough to set her forehead against yours. Her hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Now, won’t you give me something to remember you by?”

[kryquy]

old ryuukari drawings

and gilleskari or whatever you want to call it I guess??? I don’t know

[call-me-noa]

The Paper Moon Grail War teams from what I’ve gathered so far:

Saber: Sakura and Medusa

Lancer: Cerejeira (the new Chaldea staff lady) and Bhima

Archer: Rani and Durga

Rider: Lainur Guison and Prince of Lan Ling

Caster: Makiri Zolgen(?!) and Gilles de Rais

Assassin: Fujimaru, Sion, and Kama

Berserker: That Indian girl and Duryodhana

[dailycharacteroption]

Mutated Defender (Vigilante Archetype)

(art by Anubiscomics on DeviantArt)

The vigilante class covers a lot of masked heroes and villains. By default it covers both the brazen warrior and the stealthy infiltrator sorts of mundane masked vigilantes, but with archetypes we also see things like mages, horse-mounted warriors, gun specialists, and so on, including their very own pseudo-hulk which admittedly isn’t actually very good.

But for the most part, there really isn’t an option for playing a character with a weird inherent superpower that isn’t expressly magical. Even the most mundane of these empowered heroes have divine or primal blessings and the like. However, there is one notable exception in the form of the Mutated Defender!

Part Toxic Avenger, part Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and part X-Men, this archetype is all about a person with a mutation that uses this power for good, even in a world that refuses to understand the good heart behind their often twisted appearances.

If you’re looking for something on the power scale of Magneto or Storm, you’re better off with a full caster with maybe a dip into vigilante, but if your favorite X-man is among the low-powered characters, you could probably pull them off.

In any case, yes, this archetype is all about having a character with weird superpowers due to some mutation, such as fantastical radiation, wild magic, horrific experiments, and the like. No matter their origins, however, they still choose to help people despite the normal reaction that most mortals have to mutated members of their species or other species.

So let’s take a look!

These heroic mutants can match avenger vigilantes in combat, but due to their mutations, they always have one deformity, which can ranged from withered limbs to fragile aspects of their being that leave them especially vulnerable if their mind, body, or reflexes are targeted, a missing sense, or perhaps even oversensitive eyes. However, as part of their established social identity, they learn a lesser form of magical transformation that hides their mutations, allowing them to blend into society, though obviously they can’t access any of those mutations until they revert.

Speaking of which, they also gain access to a trio of new vigilante talents which represent various useful mutations in their arsenal.

The first gives them a ranged energy attack, be it spitting acid, projecting flame, discharging electricity from nodules on their body, or something else. It may not scale very well with level, but it can be useful even with it’s limited uses per day.

The second and most notable allows these defenders to gain various low-level evolutions normally available to eidolons (the wording implies that the unchained list is used), allowing them to grow extra limbs, gain natural attacks, and other practical things, though they can’t take alternate movement methods, harden their bodies, or act as someone’s mount. This talent can be taken repeatedly as well, representing how the hero mutates and changes over time.

Finally, they have a talent that unlocks minor psychic power, sensing the thoughts of others.

The vigilante class is perhaps most well known for extremely constructable, picking up various talents to customize them as the player sees fit, and that takes on a whole new meaning with this archetype. You could get gills right off the bat, or load yourself up on a bite and two claws or other combination of natural attacks, or go the psychic route by taking both the mutated lobe and basic psychic magic, or pick up a surprise ranged attack. You are limited to just 1-point evolutions with no way to upgrade, which I think is a crying shame, but if you combine these mutant abilities with more traditional vigilante talents, and you can create some truly wicked combinations.

I feel like a lot of vibes that went into this particular archetype survived into the fleshwarp ancestry of 2nd edition, and that’s perfectly fine. Heck, I think there straight-up is a vigilante fleshwarp hanging around Alkenstar in the setting.

In any case, however, let’s take a moment to remind ourselves that disabilities aren’t superpowers. Even if your character replaces a missing limb with a stronger cybernetic or magitech one, they still have to deal with the times when they have to take it off, or deal with the struggles unique to it. So please, be mindful and respectful.

An investigation into a string of disappearances leads the party to a remote community, but they aren’t the only ones following the trail. The vigilante known as Crimson Claw is conducting their own investigation. Can the party put aside their differences to work with them, and will either of them survive the cult’s wickerman guardian?

Some think the Water Reacher is some manner of horror from the sea, and they are half right. In truth, they are actually a triton immigrant hiding the secret of their horrific mutations, which they use to drag criminals into the many canals that form the byways of the city.

The Night of Green Mist covered the city of Enblie nearly two years ago to the day. Most citizens were safely inside at the time, but the alchemical accident had nightmarish effects on those caught outside. Many degenerated into mutants that struggle to live normal lives if they can, or lurk in the sewers otherwise. A rare few, however, have mastered hiding their transformation, and use them to enact their own goals under the cover of night.

[typemoonsmashorpass]

[rake-rake]

"Anyways, here's a short list of servants I could unironically take in a fight. For starters:

Oberon. I rub my hands over his face and he's running to submerge himself in bleach.

Morgan. I'll toss a caterpillar at her.

Caster. "Your dad looks gnc asf." she's running off.

Penthesilea. I yell "Is that Achilles behind you?!" And she's gone for the whole day.

Gilgamesh. "Is that someone trying to woo Enkidu?!" Yeah he's gone.

Brynhild. Same deal, I saw Sigurd somewhere around there, good luck.

Gilles? Jeanne is looking for you. Good riddance bitch.

Think smarter not harder. Should I keep going?"