towerofanimus | Log 022 | Monster Hunting

Entry tags:

Log 022 | Monster Hunting

Characters: Sephiroth, Any Monsters & Anyone Else
Setting: Floors 41 -43 - 45 as in below & Sub-threads - throughout the Monster ~~game~~ event (15th-26th June)
Format: Usual long-Prose, Action prompts as Sub-threads. Can switch.
Summary: Somewhat catch-all: The ~~ULTIMATE~~ Jail-cell Tactic & Sub-threads as described. [Open at any point to All] *OOC Note: This may turn into a 'running-log', depending on how the event progresses. I'll add more sub-threads/update the date range/warnings later. Sephiroth may not even keep this tactic up all event but this is the plan at least to start with.*
Warnings: Monsters-related fights/gore/injury/death. Sephiroth-related general warning.

Well clearly then, he's been playing the game wrong.

Though he's fairly sure that the first monster hadn't gotten back up after being decapitated Sephiroth hadn't hung around to check. Fact remains, it was becoming more and more dangerous every night after dark and more monsters had to be coming from somewhere. He'd started out so keen to hunt them all down personally if that's what it took to end this silly game.

Then there had been Ruana, taunting them all from the safety of the network. Though at least that had been a relatively good use of his time. He'd have to start putting monsters to people before this would get any more out of hand; not just for his own personal safety around the Tower anymore though. No, just to prove that he could do it. He could win. This game called strongly to a part of him that he'd spent a lot of effort keeping in check and only indulging in when it suited, that part that liked to kill. There was a certain jubilation in asserting enough control over another being to have the power to end it's life.

Each victory. Even against the usual fare of monsters in the Tower, reminded Sephiroth that despite the limited containment within the Tower, his skills weren't suffering as a result. He's still as sharp as the first day that he came here, perhaps more-so on account of what he- or rather, his soul- has ~~learned~~ experienced here.

There was a tactic that begged to be tried, but it could only work under the right set of delicate circumstances.

Step One, find a monster.
Step Two, capture/lure, or otherwise incapacitate/kill said monster and drag it to the 43rd Floor
Step three, throw it in a cell until morning
Rinse and repeat.

Then he'd deal with whomever turned out to be a monster, after they turned back.

Simple right? Not really. There was the question of how many floors around the jailcell floor he could afford to monitor whilst at the same time making sure (provided he caught one) that nothing somehow came out of somewhere to release the monster. Dealing with one at a time was bad enough, and sitting all night guarding one jail cell for one monster per night wouldn't be enough. Other monsters could be making more even as he ensured one wouldn't. On the other hand, Sephiroth knew he'd have big problems dealing with more than one of those at a time if they did get loose again before day. He might be an expert, appreciating of the challenge as well but he figured it'd take them all of a few seconds to rip him to pieces.

What a way to go. Though if this proves fruitful...

Sephiroth had settled for patrolling the stairwells between Floor 41 and Floor 45 to see how well this plan could be worked. Two up from the Jails, two down. Seemed logical. Floor 41 is an elevator-serving floor, this would be where the monsters could get under his radar. He wouldn't even have to step onto the floor much to launch a fireball at a mask if he saw one dancing inside the swarming, crushing mass of insects - just to attract attention before darting up the stairs. Floor 42 could be looked in on but he'd best be careful if one managed to chase him in there, he's not too sure about the extent these monsters disable powers but his telekinetic flight would be crucial there. He'd avoid leaving the stairwell on this Floor where possible. Up to Floor 44 and 45 would be patrolled as well just in case any one of them would come down behind him.

15th - 21st June Prompts:
A Bathroom Infirmary Cafeteria Dormitory Level 3 - Dorm 03-02

June 20th: 3rd Floor Library

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[In recent days it is a rare thing that Lancelot can find a spare moment to return to his chamber. After having slain the Growling Monster, he had sought healing for his Master and a place for the man and his Nephew both to rest. He had guarded them both without further incident, but even Lancelot has his Limits-- particularly in this place.

He crosses to his bed, giving a nod to Sephiroth, who looks much the worse for wear than his usual self. His own clothes as heavily stained with blood, but it is his Master's-- not his own. His shirt is stiff with it, as is the end of his rather bedraggled ponytail. Still, he will sleep as he is and change when he wakes.

Seated now on the edge of his bed, toeing off his shoes, Lancelot looks up, seeming to take closer notice of his roommate.]

You have seen more than a few Foes these last Days, I warrant.

[On a normal day, he might well have taken that as an insult. Sephiroth takes great pride in how he looks. However, you can't simply wash away so many injuries under a hot shower and against his pale skin they tend to show up more. He knows he could take a death to get his whole body reset but really what a waste!

No wonder though, that he usually spends the energy to will them to be healed completely; but currently it would still be dangerous to do so. He can't afford to spend a single night at anything less than his most deadly. So he's just going to have to put up with looking more than a little worse for wear for a few more days, but not so much longer if he could start to piece together who these starter monsters were.

At least he wasn't going to bed with such bloodied clothes still on. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow for a moment at Lancelot before replying; pausing from wrapping back up a tallied hand.]

You would be correct, about the same as you, looks like.

[Lancelot bears a single Mark on the reverse of his hand, and he glances at it blank-faced before answering.]

I have been more active in securing my Master's safety-- and that of his Nephew-- and have not sought Battle. Nevertheless, it did find me.
The Blood is not my own or the Monster's, but my Master's.

[He returns his attention to Sephrioth.]
Have you been seeking out foes then, to have tallied so many and taken such hurt?

[Sephiroth's eyebrows come together for a moment at Lancelot's answer, curious though not for long enough to indicate a passed judgment. He's only vaguely aware of the Master/Servant arrangement of some of those in the Tower. Personally he doesn't care for it, being only ever out for himself.]

Even in a place like this you would live for others. [He comments, continuing to wrap his hand up with the fresh bandage. It makes him feel more than a little disgusted, knowing that once upon a time he was much the same - so blindly following a duty but not knowing all the facts.]

It's no such real hurt after all. And monster hunting carries it's risks.

That it does-- and in this place, one need not have such an overriding care for one's Life, after all.

[Lancelot half smirks at Sephiroth's remark. With what knowledge he has of the man, he imagines Sephiroth would be summoned as a Berserker himself. The idea amuses him as much as the near insult does not.]

I do not Live at all, as I am a Summoned Spirit-- but I am bound by Contract to my Master.
I will grant that I do in some way live for Him, though He lives as much for me-- as in our World, it is from him I draw the energy I use to fight his War.

Besides, it is a point of personal honor that I preserve his Life. I do not suffer defeat lightly.

Edited 2013-06-24 05:45 (UTC)

[Sephiroth has heard something like this before. It's been a while ago but he pauses and considers for a few moments before suggesting. Slipping a leather glove back on over his hand and flexing his fingers.]

The Grail War, right? [He doesn't give Lancelot much chance to answer before continuing.] Technically we are all but spirits here. But I would not ever be bound to any such contract.

I would not serve anyone.

I serve myself as much. For I was willing to be Summoned, as have my own Aims in this War-- [Though the longer he spends in this Place, the longer he spends in Sanity, the less desirable one Goal does seem. He shrugs, choosing instead to speak of the most obvious Reward of any War.] -- though Glory will be Mine, certainly. When I take the Cup for my Master.

Do you Serve only yourself then, even in your Home?

[Sephiroth listens, intently enough. It's always good to find out more about others' worlds. Even if he really doesn't understand why anyone would submit themselves to being summoned at any other persons will. Like a Summon, and it's Materia.

When Lancelot asks that last, Sephiroth can't help but crack a small smirk before he nods.]

Yes, very much so. I don't bend for anyone. [Current circumstances excused, of course.]

[Lancelot raises an ironic eyebrow at this announcement.]

To know when to yield is a strategic skill, it is true. But you know this, else you would not do the bidding of our captors when they set Fell Beasts and Monsters among us that we might Fight Observed by them, for their obscure and cruel Joy.

I have ever fought for Glory, and the Joy of it. In this Place, at least, I may feel the Pleasure of Battle-- which is denied to me as I am in the War, when I do not have my own Mind.

It's ironic, considering our imprisonment here but trust me, if I didn't want to spend the time hunting these monsters than I wouldn't. It offers somewhat more of a welcome distraction than anything we've thus far been thrust upon us, considering especially the recent calamity with the Glamour.

[Sephiroth's smirk doesn't budge an inch as he continues.]

Let them watch how I fight their beasts, it will make it all the more bitter when they turn around and find me free from this place.

[Sephiroth cares nothing for who may be listening, or watching him - he is still being supervised occasionally by the odd retrieval unit after all.]

[The fault in the Glamour was-- unpleasant in the extreme for Lancelot. Though Glamours number among his innate abilities, he found himself stripped of all Power and Connection, unable to summon his Sword and reduced a point of madness he had not seen since he had truly Lived.

He avoids discussion of it.
Having stripped off his gloves, Lancelot's fingers hover absently over the badge he wears pinned to one lapel.
Nesir had given it to him before as a Token. To Remind him of his Humanity, and of his Honor.

After a moment, he seems to come to himself. He shrugs.]

I have put many Monsters to the Sword here, as it offers a pleasant diversion-- but these Beasts, they differ from those normally about. They have some Fell origin or Purpose no doubt. But with my Master as he is, I cannot spare the time to seek them out. I wish you well of them-- and of your Freedom.

How do you suppose to secure it, then? I have my own Observations and Theories, but have arrived at no firm Strategy as yet.

[Although equally as crippling and devastating to Sephiroth at first, the Glamour reveal had been a inevitability in the end. He didn't much like it being triggered by others' in the Tower and him not even being aware of what was going on, however there isn't much to be done about that now.

The very fact that his body isn't really a body, that he's condensed and contained only as his spiritual core - this knowledge could yet prove his greatest advantage here. He's influenced the physical realm greatly from such a state before, at least, back home. His soul is powerful.

Sephiroth had looked away from Lancelot when he'd slipped into thoughts, though only out of respect for privacy; he himself does that quite often and doesn't much like anyone disturbing him prematurely. Sephiroth returns Lancelot's shrug with a nod and then listens intently, taking everything in.]

There is not yet such a strategy, my thoughts are my own. [He tore his gaze from his room mate then, looking past Lancelot into the hallway outside, retreating into his own mind a little. Sephiroth would readily, enthusiastically pursue his own endeavors with regard to this place and leave everyone else behind to die. But it would do him no good to let everyone here know that.]

Do you mind me to ask, who is your Master?

[Lancelot nods briefly in understanding, he is not one to disclose his strategies either-- though he would indeed sacrifice others to achieve freedom for himself and his Master.

He sees no harm in disclosing the Man's name to Sephiroth-- or to anyone in the Tower, really. He is confident to the point of arrogance in his ability to defend his Master against any who would attack him.]

Kariya Matou is his name. He is an infirm man, but is possessed of an indomitable will-- as one would need to be, in order to be Master of the Servant Berserker.

Kariya...

[Sephiroth mutters under his breath, still keeping his gaze away from Lancelot for the time being though his silver eyebrows do furrow together slightly. It couldn't be the same man, right? Sephiroth doesn't remember the man's second name but just how many infirm Kariya's could there be? Sephiroth doesn't assume, he must verify the facts first. Certainly the Kariya that Sephiroth knows fits the profile; to keep going with parasites eating away at your insides (even if their very existence is just another illusion) - must at least require a great deal of self-motivation.

Sephiroth isn't certain that he needs Lancelot to know that he knows this man either and for that reason he is careful with his next comment.]

Is that right? Just what level of an indomitable will are we talking about here?

[Because by that token, he himself could be such a Master. Oh such wonderful possibilities there could be on others' worlds.]

By all rights the Man should be long dead. But even knowing that he will likely not survive his own victory, still my Master will fight. He does lack some - - subtlety in Strategy, but I compensate for this deficiency with my Power.

His Wish is for the Life of another, a child, and He cares nothing for himself-- only that he should live long enough to supply me with the Prana, the Energy, I require to Fight and to Be.
Though he Suffers greatly at the hands of others and from his own choices both, still he insists upon himself. Scarred and pained as he is. This I call Will.

[Though at first no admirer of his weak and half-mad Master, Lancelot has come to know and understand the Man intimately. Even to respect and like him. They are alike in some ways-- and he now sees his Master's Mind through the mystic Bond they share.]

Edited 2013-07-01 21:11 (UTC)

[Sephiroth returns his gaze to Lancelot as he describes his Master. Still managing to keep his expression as neutral as ever, whilst at the same time taking in and ticking boxes mentally. It had to be the same man.

Though, Kariya would never be in any condition to fight - in fact when they had first met Sephiroth had wandered what their Hosts could possibly have wanted from one so obviously decaying away. Unless that Lancelot referred to a very different sort of fighting; Kariya is very much still going and as demonstrated (though not without difficulty) on the network not long ago still clings to life and that which he finds important.]

It certainly sounds like it. [He agrees when Lancelot finishes, accompanying his comment with a nod.]

And this - Will, is what led you to him? That makes you want to serve him? [There is a hint of disdain there; Sephiroth doesn't think much to those that would live so completely for others if they were powerful enough alone - it could never be satisfying, surely. But then, there are those who will always been followers.]

[Lancelot sighs, stripping off his gloves and stretching his fingers as he does so.
Hs summoning had been difficult. Kariya's will had accomplished it, but the malevolent will of another had ensured that he would be summoned all but insane with Rage. He had not been able to communicate with the Man before coming to this Place.

Sephiroth's disdain communicates, but Lancelot lets it pass-- how can any but a Servant understand what it is to Serve?

I was not led to my Master so much as I was Called by him. He Summoned me from beyond death, and as I desired to Fight and Win and have my Wish upon the Grail, and as he had the proper materials and words to bring me forth and bind me, I serve him. Thus is the contract. Though I never properly knew him before coming to this Place.

Here we may have a Bond, and things are as they ought to be between us. Now I Serve not only because I am Bound, but because I wish to fight and to win for His cause-- and his Sake, as well as my own Glory.

That sounds all incredibly one-sided to me. As if you are being blackmailed into servitude by your own desires for victory.

[Sephiroth pauses before continuing, as if unsure whether to share the next part. Clearly Lancelot wasn't going to change his mind anyway, nor could he considering the contract. This puts him at no threat to Sephiroth, provided he doesn't oppose Kariya. The latter has given no reason yet for his hatred.]

You see, I called myself back from death, made it so that I could not be dissolved into memory. Willed for myself to have corporeal form again. I had no need of another to do this for me.

For what purpose did you do this thing, then?
Merely to cheat death? Or to Fight?

[Lancelot's interest is obvious, as is his disdain for Sephiroth's opinion of his Purpose.

Though he originally was quite resentful of the Chains his Master had put upon him, the Mad Enhancement, he now knows it was not his Master's wish, but that of another Magus. He has vowed, for both their sakes, to Kill the man when they return together.]

I consented to the contract of my own will. I would let no Man force my Hand in any small thing, much less such a dire matter.

There is Honor in Service, for those who would Serve honorably.

[Sephiroth huffs lightly, but then cracks a smirk again. He'll gladly talk of his former purposes even if it's clear Lancelot wasn't impressed with his opinion of the Servant's own. It feels a little odd, now to go into the details but it's refreshing to remember. To feel again the pride that comes with it. It feels a lifetime ago already.

It's very important for Sephiroth to cling to any memory of his identity that he can.]

A little of both and more. As un-limiting as it is being a spirit, there is very little you can really affect. Much like here, in fact.

[Clearly then, Lancelot and Sephiroth are very different people. The only person he will ever serve, willingly, is himself. No one else even comes close to demanding that level of honorable loyalty from him. Though-

Sephiroth shakes his head a little, dismissing a fragmented memory before it irritated him too much. But it was enough of an irritation for his expression to drop almost into a negative one. He knows what he used to be well enough, when he lived the lie. It doesn't matter anymore.]

Honor is over-rated, too often it is just another tool of control.

[There is a pause before Lancelot responds. He is by and large a quiet man and not much given to long speech.]

These are Deep Waters. I have both Lived and Died for Honor. I have been both Stripped of my Honor and Forsaken it of my own Will. I have both Prized it in others and Used their own as a Weapon against them. I have both let Honor Bind me, and found Freedom within it. Yet I cannot rightly say what is and what is not its nature. I have come to believe it almost a thing that is named by the one who holds it dear.

I have seen men so Blinded by their own Rule of Honor that they took Dishonorable actions.
In this way, there is Truth in what you say. The idea of Honor betimes supports the most unsupportable of actions.

[Lancelot does not speak of these things to his fellow Servants, or at least not in depth. Being Heroes, and having Died Honorable (or at least Glorious) Deaths, he believes they could not understand his sentiments.

He is a Hero himself of course, but one as close to Darkness as he is to Light. Lancelot forges his own Path, striving against what he sees as his Fate-- traitor and betrayed.]

But I -- I make my own Meaning. I win and fashion my own Honor, and call it what I will.
In this Place, I control myself-- and affect what I may.

In the War, though I am a Spirit, I Live and Die by my Deeds, and affect my Master's chance at Victory.
What is it that you wish, then-- that you would affect?

In that case, Honor is individual to each person's own moral code. I can agree with that, or at least mostly.

[There are things that Sephiroth has done in the name of Honor, for that which he considers family, after all. Terrible things they may be, and not for discussion in this exchange. Lancelot would not understand, just as most do not.]

I would affect everything and anything that I could. Take the revenge that I'm due, and take my rightful place within the grander scheme of things. The Planet was mine, and they ripped me from it.

[He doesn't look at Lancelot as he says this, indeed he's retreated back to that one spot on the floor to stare at.]

[He has no notion of the meaning of Sephiroth's sentiments regarding his Planet. The man is something of a cipher. Revenge, however, is something he understands well-- if rarely speaks of.

When he speaks now, his voice is Low and Soft.]

Betimes I desire it-- vengeance. I have taken it once, and have thought to take it again.
It comes upon me like a fit, or a fever, taking me out of my senses until I can only think of Blood and Wrath.

I have sacrificed my Rightful Place to Vengeance. I cannot say that has ever won me Anything.
Yet I do feel that Righteous urging, as I do hear it in your voice.

[Well talk about change in the tone.

Sephiroth snaps his gaze back up to his room mate and curiosity flicks across his expression for a moment. He knows these feelings that Lancelot is describing, very well. Sephiroth knows exactly what it is to have scalding vengeance ripping through your veins, pounding at your temples as you take your payment due.

Sephiroth smiles lightly, but understandingly at Lancelot. He cannot say that his own vengeance has never won him anything; because it had won him a great deal. Though in the end he was defeated regardless. It's difficult to pinpoint how much of these defeats were contributed to blind revenge though.]

Then you need to learn to control it. Sometimes a bitter vengeance is the most effective, one that has been left to simmer awhile first.

[Lancelot's answering smile is a small, strangely private thing.]

Control was something I rarely employed in life, and I have been a Spirit for an Age or more.

But the matter is out of my hands regardless. I am the Servant Berserker, summoned Mad. Thus do I serve-- in Merciless, unreasoning Wrath.
Odd, that in coming to this Mad place, I have found some respite from my own Madness.

June 21

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apologies for the lag! connectivity & family interference.

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