Thread One: >>54922
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Well, no use just lying around.

As Meiling continues teaching the mechs why it's folly to use guns against her martial arts, you grab the shock-rifle that so recently electrocuted you and pull yourself to your feet, your muscles burning and every breath hard to come by.

"Heads up!" Meiling calls as soon as you're upright, following her words up by kicking a mech your way. You pull back and give it a solid uppercut; your strike aided by both boosted strength and momentum, the hapless machine flies up and clear through one of the windows with a great crash. That dealt with, you sprint into the thick of things. Bullets and electricity both fly your way, but some evasive maneuvering lets you avoid the worst of it.

Meiling sweeps one mech's leg out before dropping a vicious elbow that caves its chest in. Another mech moves to crack her skull, but you interrupt it with an accurate arc of electricity, stunning it long enough for the redhead to spring back to her feet and straight-up tear the stunned bot's head from its shoulders. "Does this happen often when you're around?"

"More than you'd think." You reply, pouring enough volts into a different mech to fry it completely. "So, got any plans after this?

"Like-" Ooh, that's an arm she just ripped off. "What?"

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Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

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The sound of crackling dirt echoed through the long tunnel, stretching for miles behind the few workers who labored tirelessly. How deep were they underground, anyways? One hundred feet? Two hundred? No one had cared enough to take depth measurements when they began, but for this endeavor it didn’t matter. If Daiyousei’s calculations were correct, and everyone prayed to whatever gods they could that those calculations were, the only thing that mattered was that this tunnel was as straight as an arrow. If they screwed up anywhere, even so much as a single degree off, they could overshoot the target by miles, and all this would be for naught.

The tunnel was barely tall enough for a small child to stand up straight in, and the narrow walls would make this passage a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare. But that didn’t matter. As long as Cirno could work in it unimpeded, it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference to anyone if the tunnel smelled of rotting carcasses and was lined with razors all the way down. She labored without sleep, sixteen hours of every day she was right there at the front of the tunnel, digging ten times faster than any of the others could manage, and out on guard the other eight hours. It was quite a shame, really, that their fearless leader was both their strongest warrior and their fastest digger. Any day now, that double-edged utility would have to be split one way or the other, and no matter which side she chose, their progress would be sorely diminished.

Cirno crouched in the center of the end wall, hundreds of rotating ice chisels in front of her working better than the world’s best auger ever could. Whatever dirt she herself did not freeze to the walls the two fairies behind her quickly packed in tight as she drilled. They had decided days previous that they couldn’t possibly carry all the dirt and rock out of here, not when they were so pressed for time. The only option was to drill a giant hole, shred the soil as fine as they possibly could, then pack it into the surrounding walls for support, using whatever magic they h

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It's cold, colder than you've ever been; a poison that seeps through your pale skin and reaches your bones and chills the marrow within so that you can barely move. Panic assails you, the first emotion in an otherwise blank mind, and your green eyes widen as the only thing you see is white, the white of your ragged dress, of your pale skin, and of the cold frost that surrounds you, an impossible snowscape that seems to go on forever.

You grope about you, blinded by the lack (or perhaps, the sum?) of color. You try to find your bearings and stand up; you fail and collapse on your knees. You can't move. Fear stabs your heart - you're going to die. You try to stand again; again you fall. Sobbing, you crawl into a sitting position, your slender body wracked with shivers. How could you die here? It's ridiculous, you must be dreaming. 'What is this? Why am I here?' Then, another question, one that accentuates the panic until it's an iron lance plunged through your chest and twisted around. 'Who am I?'

You try and think. You glimpse vague visions, images. A picture of a mother you've never met. A table full of materials next to a roaring fireplace. Neatly arranged dolls, crafted by hand. A woman with black hair, and a book, and blood, and fire...

You remember.

For a moment, all feeling disappears. The cold, and the pain and the fear of death become nothing during a long, sharp breath of disbelief.

Then you scream.

You scream and scream and scream again, beating your fists against the ground, pulling on your long golden hair so hard you tear out clumps, dragging long nails over your face until the skin breaks and your blood stains the snow.

Eventually, your throat gives out and all you can do is whimper and lie on the snow, crying as you bury your face into your arms.

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You catch Reimu’s eyes, and motion for her to start interrogating.

“Alright, kiddo. What is the kamaitachi’s plan?”

The youkai takes a breath. “Manipulate the weather, lure humans into the forest, capture them, and use them to lure the Hakurei shrine maiden to us.”

“Why?” you ask.

“…To defeat her and prove the superiority of the kamaitachi to Gensokyo.”

“… Is that it?” Reimu asks after a minute, frowning. “If they want to try defeating me, all they need to do is challenge me to a spellcard duel. I’d be happy to oblige.”

The youth looks to the side.

Reimu’s mouth gapes slightly in dull horror. “…They don’t intend for me to live, do they?”

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Finally satisfied, you set the Grand Opening signs in place, and take a step back to admire your new place of business.

Years of study, years of back-breaking work, saving up and doing all the shittiest jobs, anything to put a little more money in the bank, all for this one, glorious moment.

At long last, you've done it. The elusive fantasy you've chased for so long is within your grasp. You will not, can not fail in your grand calling.

You consider the sign you've placed, for a moment, and then, in a sudden flash of inspiration, get a little paint and add a line that's sure to draw in customers. Offering anything for free usually does, after all. You've seen it happen.

Satisfied, you do a quick round through your new establishment, checking that everything is just so. It all has to be perfect, especially on your opening day.

Satisfied, you position yourself carefully behind the front counter, trying (perhaps a little too hard) not to let your anticipation and nervous energy show. It's just so exciting, being able to open the doors of your very own business at last! It wasn't easy, but you somehow managed.

You've even got a perfect location, catering to an underserved segment of the population! (Your studying has paid off already! Gods bless that weirdo and the books in his store, even if he does live out in the woods like that!)

After all, outside the village walls, your clientele (you love these fancy words so much; they're just so exotic!) can include almost anybody! You were careful not to place it too far from the village, and away from the Forest, so even the villagers won't balk too much at coming to you!

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“Lady Remilia has been waiting to see you,” the majordomo stated quietly, lighting the ornate lamps at either side of the doors. The sun had all but set, the last dying rays of light were barely visible through the giant windows. “I know you've been kept rather busy today, and I apologize again for the misunderstanding in the cellar,” she nodded solemnly, the act of contrition as polished as it had been the first time I saw it. “I was instructed to show you to the drawing room before supper, for a formal introduction.”

“That's quite alright,” I said, “I'm used to eventful days.” Suika usually made sure that moments of dullness were few and far in between. “I hope I'm presentable enough to meet the mistress of the manor. My clothes were scuffed even before all of that business with that young girl,' I said with my tongue fully in cheek.

“I'm not sure my opinion matters much,” she said with an elegant smile, “but I believe you would look quite dashing no matter the state of your vestments.”

“Thank you, Sakuya,” I said, glad I had such an agreeable liason for this job.

Turning her attention to the door, the slender girl knocked softly on the hard wood. Pausing for a moment first, she then opened the door, beckoning me in with a smooth motion of her open hand.

The room was dark. A lit fireplace in the corner was the sole source of illumination. The walls were of a dark wood, the same kind on the door and the side door further in, and had a strip of wallpaper in between a section of horizontal wall that ran all along the sides of the room. Decorations were sparse for the space. A single large painting of a pale, sickly-looking girl sat opposite the fire. She was dressed in dainty clothes and had a fur draped over her shoulders. The flicker of flames and moving shadows gave me the impression that she was someone with something that she wanted to hide. Beyond that there were a few large upholstered chairs with burgeoning and comfortable-looking cushions and arms. And a single chaise longue turned towards the fireplace. The profile of a reclining figure lay still on it.

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Reposting this in a new thread since the last was autosaging. And big thanks to Pygmalion for this new thread opener!

>[x] "Trust? Yes."
>[x] "Respect? Yes."
>[x] "Terrified of? Apparently also yes."
>[x] "Just give me a bit. I think I pulled a worldview muscle."
>[x] You want me to try to combine my magic and melee?

I look up at her, seeing the hurt in her eyes. I heave a sigh, even through my heart thumping out of my chest. "Meiling, of course I trust you."

"But..."

"I absolutely trust you. Trust you, respect you...and you just scared the living daylights out of me. I'll be fine, I promise. just... give me a minute. I think... I think my view of you just shifted without a clutch."

Meiling starts to get up. "I'm sorry. I'll give you some--" She stops short as I reach out and take her wrist. I know she could pull free if she wanted (or pull my arm free of its--nnnnot doing yourself any favors, Applepicker), but she lets me stop her. She looks back at me after a moment and manages a smile, before sitting back down beside me. That's one less thing to worry about, at least.

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How long is a cold century,
when one waits for love?
But what good is love
if it turns to rot?
For an eternity I've waited
for eternity with you.
For an eternity I've waited
for love undying.
For an eternity I've waited.

But not anymore.

------
"So you just let her inside? Do you have any idea-"

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You are Patchouli Knowledge, a physically frail and sickly magician of profound aptitude and power. You live in the Voile Archives of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, though you have constructed an attached tower elsewhere, without internal fixtures as yet, which you may or may not inhabit much. You are Friends with Remilia, the vampire who owns the mansion, who considers it entirely too much effort to try to feed off you. Your Magical Potency varies somewhat from day to day, depending on how long of an incantation you can manage before breaking off into a fit of coughs, and how much strain your body can handle in addition to the rigors of illness. You currently have a box of ninety four vials of Medication stored in the library to offset the worst of the days, however, though it will later exact a toll, and your new Magical Focus eases use of magic to a significant degree. It seems that Luck can play a reasonable part in keeping yourself healthy, though effects may vary, as can the Hakurei Hot Spring.

Your magic is based on Elementalism primarily, though you are also skilled in Diabolism and Other Summonings, which can be surprisingly versatile, particularly in combination with Golems. You can also create Homunculi, if you have the materials to hand. You do not have any suitable samples of the key ingredient, however.

The date is Aug. 30. It is Tuesday, day of Mars, of War and Fire and Conflict of every sort. Through dint of long and methodical practice, you find the use of Fire-natured elemental magics to come a touch easier on this day.

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It's not much of a difficult question.

After all, when all is said and done, you don't really care about who gets what, when, beyond your own schedule. And while this one is structured in such a way that you'll have to put in more effort on some days than others, aside from that it's...

Elegant. Streamlined, and nearly symmetrical, though you can forgive the failure in perfect arrangement as that would have left fourth year in a poor slot, and then your number of 'bad

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You are Patchouli Knowledge. You are a physically frail and sickly, but exceptionally magically powerful Magician, and live in the Voile Archives of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. You are not in the habit of leaving the first, and very seldom leave the second at all, though you have done so more frequently of late than usual for you. You are Friends with the owner of the mansion, against whom your Sun and Water magics are particularly effective, and who doesn't really want to drink your blood anyway. Your Magical Potency is somewhat variable, depending on your current degree of health.

Your magic is based on Elementalism primarily, focusing on the elements of Wood, Fire, Metal, Water, and Earth, which are fairly self-explanatory, as well as Sun and Moon, which are rather less simple elements. Simplified as much as possible, you would say that Sun is like Fire, only significantly more so, as well as having unique properties of its own that simple Fire cannot duplicate. Moon is similarly related to Water, only in a rather different sense. In some respects, the two elements could equally well be termed 'Light' and 'Shadow', though this does not hold true for all scenarios. You tend not to bother with other elements or elemental systems, though they are not unknown to you.

You have significant prowess in Diabolism, and in point of fact have summoned and bound a succubus, Koakuma, to assist you in tasks where you have determined the mansion's Maid Squad made up almost entirely of Fairies to be, in general, insufficient. You are not unfamiliar with other forms of Summonings, however while Diabolic forces tend to be more temperamental, and require a firm hand to keep in line, they also tend to be much better at their jobs when pushed properly.

In most other magical respects, you are not quite as polished, but either have acceptable ability, or can study up to an acceptable level with reasonable speed, using your vast assortment of Tomes of Magical Information.

---

It is day: X

Your health level is 96/100:

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