Nasuverse Unknown Soldier - Story
- Thread starter firestorm
- Start date
Day 1
*CRACK*
A red lance pierced an inch and a half of wood, sending a shower of splinters out from the other side.
"AaaaaaAAGH!" As the door fell down from the force it was struck with, a boy sprang out from behind, brandishing a chair leg that shone with a subtle, unnatural glow.
"Good spirit, boy, but that won't save you. See, you've found out way too much, and now I've got to shut you up. Sorry, but them's the rules, kid." The wielder of the lance smiled, brandished his weapon, and rose to meet the boy's charge.
The sound of weapon meeting weapon echoed through the night air. As the duo fought, the boy found himself slowly, yet surely, pushed back. No matter how quickly he moved, the strange man with his unnaturally durable blue armor and eerily whispering red lance always seemed to be a step ahead of him, blocking his attacks before he even moved.
"Ghhahhh..." The boy scowled. With the amount of prana he was pushing through his arms and legs, one strike should be enough to kill any person. But against the sensation of power flooding from the mysterious warrior, his Magic Circuit was barely even a dripping tap.
"Hey, kid, what's your name? For a mortal, you sure can fight!" Blinking at the boy's scowl, the man's eyes widened in realization. "Oh yeah, it's not polite to ask someone's name before giving your own. I'm Lancer - I'm the man who's going to kill you!"
"...Shirou."
"Speak up like a man, kid!"
"My name is Emiya Shirou!" The boy roared in anger, charging Lancer with weapon raised.
"Good, but too slow! I already stabbed you once, don't you want revenge? Come on, let's fight like men!" With a taunting smirk, Lancer lashed out at Shirou with his leg, connecting with the chair leg that he managed to bring up at the last minute and sending him flying through a kitchen window.
"Aaaahhhh!" Shirou dodged, rolled, and sprinted across his back yard, scrambling for a weapon.
"The only way a man dies is facing his enemy, boy! Stop running!" As gracefully as a cat, Lancer vaulted out through the broken window, weapon at the ready.
Hands scrabbling through shelves and piles of boxes, said boy frantically searched for a weapon, any weapon. "Come on, come on..."
Stalking after his prey, Lancer entered the shed, senses sharp and weapon raised. "I love a good fight, boy, but every fight's gotta end sometime. Time to die already!"
Trace, on.
A pair of red eyes narrowed.
Analyzing core materials.
A pair of hound-like ears twitched.
Reinforcing composite structure.
A pair of scarred hands tightened.
Trace, off.
Several things happened in quick succession.
Shirou's finger tightened around the trigger of a reinforced assault rifle, sending a spray of hot lead at Lancer.
Lancer sprang forward, twirling his weapon as a shield, and slammed into Shirou's stomach shoulder first.
Flying backward, Shirou grazed an old shelf, slicing his arm open on a protruding nail and knocking a cascade of boxes down in front of Lancer.
With a clatter, the Reinforced rifle fell onto the floor of the shed, along with a few drops of Shirou's blood.
And the world went white.
*CRACK*
A red lance pierced an inch and a half of wood, sending a shower of splinters out from the other side.
"AaaaaaAAGH!" As the door fell down from the force it was struck with, a boy sprang out from behind, brandishing a chair leg that shone with a subtle, unnatural glow.
"Good spirit, boy, but that won't save you. See, you've found out way too much, and now I've got to shut you up. Sorry, but them's the rules, kid." The wielder of the lance smiled, brandished his weapon, and rose to meet the boy's charge.
The sound of weapon meeting weapon echoed through the night air. As the duo fought, the boy found himself slowly, yet surely, pushed back. No matter how quickly he moved, the strange man with his unnaturally durable blue armor and eerily whispering red lance always seemed to be a step ahead of him, blocking his attacks before he even moved.
"Ghhahhh..." The boy scowled. With the amount of prana he was pushing through his arms and legs, one strike should be enough to kill any person. But against the sensation of power flooding from the mysterious warrior, his Magic Circuit was barely even a dripping tap.
"Hey, kid, what's your name? For a mortal, you sure can fight!" Blinking at the boy's scowl, the man's eyes widened in realization. "Oh yeah, it's not polite to ask someone's name before giving your own. I'm Lancer - I'm the man who's going to kill you!"
"...Shirou."
"Speak up like a man, kid!"
"My name is Emiya Shirou!" The boy roared in anger, charging Lancer with weapon raised.
"Good, but too slow! I already stabbed you once, don't you want revenge? Come on, let's fight like men!" With a taunting smirk, Lancer lashed out at Shirou with his leg, connecting with the chair leg that he managed to bring up at the last minute and sending him flying through a kitchen window.
"Aaaahhhh!" Shirou dodged, rolled, and sprinted across his back yard, scrambling for a weapon.
"The only way a man dies is facing his enemy, boy! Stop running!" As gracefully as a cat, Lancer vaulted out through the broken window, weapon at the ready.
Hands scrabbling through shelves and piles of boxes, said boy frantically searched for a weapon, any weapon. "Come on, come on..."
Stalking after his prey, Lancer entered the shed, senses sharp and weapon raised. "I love a good fight, boy, but every fight's gotta end sometime. Time to die already!"
Trace, on.
A pair of red eyes narrowed.
Analyzing core materials.
A pair of hound-like ears twitched.
Reinforcing composite structure.
A pair of scarred hands tightened.
Trace, off.
Several things happened in quick succession.
Shirou's finger tightened around the trigger of a reinforced assault rifle, sending a spray of hot lead at Lancer.
Lancer sprang forward, twirling his weapon as a shield, and slammed into Shirou's stomach shoulder first.
Flying backward, Shirou grazed an old shelf, slicing his arm open on a protruding nail and knocking a cascade of boxes down in front of Lancer.
With a clatter, the Reinforced rifle fell onto the floor of the shed, along with a few drops of Shirou's blood.
And the world went white.
Day 1 (con't)
With a clatter, the Reinforced rifle fell onto the floor of the shed, along with a few drops of Shirou's blood.
And the world went white.
"Tricks won't save you, kid!" With a blood-curdling scream, Lancer bounded forward, weapon ready to pierce Shirou's heart yet again-
*CLANG*
"What?!" Lancer jumped back, falling into a defensive stance. "A Master...so that's how he survived the first time. Well then, this should be good!" His lips curled back in a hungry smirk, one that perfectly suited his legend.
The third man in the shed, the one who had appeared moments before, saving Emiya Shirou's life, slowly raised his head. Shirou's first impression of him was that he was enormous - certainly over two meters. He was dressed in a curious mixture of green, grey, and khaki, with a steel helmet crookedly sitting on a neatly trimmed brush of dark hair. Belts hung from over his shoulders and around his hips, with various pouches strapped on them. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, slightly obscuring his face in a thin haze of smoke. In gloved hands, he held the weapon that had blocked Lancer's spear - a rifle, made of light wood and dark iron, chipped and battered, but still emitting a palpable aura of power. At its tip, a bayonet the length of a man's forearm glinted with a wicked light, sparks seeming to dance from its serrated back edge.
"Bring it."
Howling madly, Lancer dove at the man, scarlet lance blazing under the moonlight.
(sorry, all I have time to do today - exams)
With a clatter, the Reinforced rifle fell onto the floor of the shed, along with a few drops of Shirou's blood.
And the world went white.
"Tricks won't save you, kid!" With a blood-curdling scream, Lancer bounded forward, weapon ready to pierce Shirou's heart yet again-
*CLANG*
"What?!" Lancer jumped back, falling into a defensive stance. "A Master...so that's how he survived the first time. Well then, this should be good!" His lips curled back in a hungry smirk, one that perfectly suited his legend.
The third man in the shed, the one who had appeared moments before, saving Emiya Shirou's life, slowly raised his head. Shirou's first impression of him was that he was enormous - certainly over two meters. He was dressed in a curious mixture of green, grey, and khaki, with a steel helmet crookedly sitting on a neatly trimmed brush of dark hair. Belts hung from over his shoulders and around his hips, with various pouches strapped on them. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, slightly obscuring his face in a thin haze of smoke. In gloved hands, he held the weapon that had blocked Lancer's spear - a rifle, made of light wood and dark iron, chipped and battered, but still emitting a palpable aura of power. At its tip, a bayonet the length of a man's forearm glinted with a wicked light, sparks seeming to dance from its serrated back edge.
"Bring it."
Howling madly, Lancer dove at the man, scarlet lance blazing under the moonlight.
(sorry, all I have time to do today - exams)