Fate/Final Deluge: The Past Is Lost Beneath The Waves - (Mostly Redundant) Signup Thread (2024)

Like all other things, we try again.

It is the year 2993 CE. The city of Shelter, for the half-a-million souls who inhabit her, is the protectress and matron of the human race. The world above is a cracked shell under an orange sky, but down in Shelter the monorails still run, the police drones still function and the sun still shines bright in the blue heavens.

The Sheltered themselves are a hodge-podge of humanity, dressing and styling themselves after every era and race of mankind: at the end of history, new fashions somehow matter somewhat less. Crinoline skirts creak against obi sashes; steel heelspurs scratch sealskin sandals. The city herself is a sprawling structured mess of architecture, teased and pried by the municipal board into a semblance of order - curved Chinese eaves stare haughtily over the bright silver monorails, hovercars glide under the taciturn eyes of mehnirs and dolmens, and children play around the transcendentalist fountains of New Arcady, twisted plexiglass forms which spit blood and not water.

Most of the time their parents join them. There has been an outpouring of apathy in these last days, ever since the tremors began ten years ago. Schools teach nothing, save as student interest dictates; there is nothing left going forward. Adults do not work; the Department of Health synthesises more than enough food with more than enough flavor to keep five Shelters sated and satisfied. Even pensioners do not, as a general rule, die - meditech keeps the hand of death at bay. Two hundred is the new eighty.

Over the past few weeks you've been dreaming. Not too uncommon, in a city of layabouts and fancy-dressers, but still quite unnerving. Some nights, you see a green field and a blue sky - the bluest you've ever seen, brighter than even Shelter's on minimal occlusion days, and they designed that one. Other nights, you see other places. A hill of swords. A sea of black mud. A burning city, looking vaguely early twenty-first century with its blocky buildings and short squat suburbs. A ziggurat in a desert, watered by rivers.

And then, on the seventh of July, seven years to the end of the world, you see a woman in white. In cold and dolorous tones she says, her pale hands stroking the red welts of a flayed and weeping back:

"Come to the Ark of the Ways. Receive thy mandate for the world's mending. I name thee Master; fight, therefore, for the cup of Christ. Seek the Sangreal."

And so, waking on the morning of the eighth, you find yourself where you last laid your head, smarting strangely, the name of a three-thousand-year-old criminal ringing in your ears.

There is a bruise on the back of your hand.

Hello, and welcome to the signup thread for Fate/Final Deluge: The Past Is Lost Beneath The Waves, a traditional seven-team Grail War set in the far future! I'm troydenite, your host, but you can call me Troy. The previous RP crashed and burned, due to a variety of factors, so I'm going to try out something new this time. All players have already been confirmed in private, so if you don't know if you're meant to be here, you're probably not. My bad entirely.

Here is the Master Template. Have fun.

Name: Self-explanatory.
Age: I know it's rude to ask, but still.
House: Which clan/family/lineage does your Mage belong to? Are they old and established, or generally new?
Appearance: Image is good, but a description is fine too.
Command Seal: The red mark of a Master, divisible into three parts, and located on the back of the hand. What does this look like?
Personality: Does he like cats? What does she think of the world ending? Does he secretly desire to become a burger flipper at the fabled MacDonalds'? Do not disclose your Master's wish.
Life Story: What has your Master been doing in Shelter all this time? No need to elaborate anything you want kept a secret, although I'm always open for super-secret plotting on the mysterious Skype.
Origin: The defining concept that determines one's fate, and in many cases influences one's Magecraft. A certain soulless ginger with the Origin of Sword, for example, has an uncanny ability to Project and Trace them.
Magic Circuits: The subcutaneous, mystical vessels that allow a Mage to siphon ambient mana and perform Magecraft. Please subdivide into Quality and Quantity, from Ranks A-E, with C being average, A being prodigious and E being dismal. Quantity determines the prana capacity of a Mage, while Quality determines the efficiency with which he can use said prana. Ballpark figures are fine. The older a House in general, the more impressive the Circuits.
Magic Crest: A hereditary patch of ancestral skin, grafted from generation to generation, and containing the cumulative magical knowledge of the Mage's entire house. What does it look like, how many generations back does it go, where on the body is it and what kind of spells does it contain?
Elemental Affinity: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, or Aether, also called Void. No-one knows what Void is. Generally affects the type of Magecraft a Mage can cast in a vague and conceptual fashion. A Mage with the affinity of Fire, for example, would be excellent at destructive spells, and a technologically-minded Mage might very well have Earth. Dual, triple, and even quadruple affinities are known, but extremely rare.
Magecraft: What type of spells can your character cast? Describe in not-overbearing detail.
Mystic Codes: Magical artifacts, tools, and/or heirlooms, if any.
Other Things Of Note: If you want to mention the claret-powered elephant butler, now is the time.

I understand this is terribly complicated, so here is an example.

Name: Silly von Simpleton XI
Age: 43
House: The von Simpleton clan has been in Shelter ever since its founding in 2651 CE. Despite its impeccable pedigree, it has perpetual trouble substantiating its territorial claims, due to being exceedingly bad at bookkeeping. When the Mayor rounded up all the Mages in 2940 and branded them, crippling their Magic Circuits, the family head, von Simpleton X, lay in his living room and did his best impression of a sofa. Surprisingly, this worked, and the state troopers went right past him. Von Simpleton X then choked to death on his celebratory peanuts, leaving his inspired son the family head.
Appearance: A man in a plain beige, early-twenty-first-century shirt and tattered jeans, with about twenty chins and three spare tyres. Has an alarming amount of facial hair.
Command Seal: A squiggly attempt at a figure-eight, divided somehow in three.
Personality: A quiet protuberance in any room, Silly von Simpleton XII has the energy of a dumpling and the wit of a sponge. He is therefore easier to sum up than more other people in Shelter.
Life Story: Silly von Simpleton XI spent most of his childhood in a cardboard box under the kitchen sink. He then moved, happily, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, into the kitchen sink, remaining there until the passing of his father. Due to prolonged conversations with the automatic dishwasher, he does, in fact, have the wit of a sponge.
Origin: Silliness. Von Simpleton is impossible to take seriously, and those who try are foiled by his strange destiny.
Magic Circuits: Quality E, Quantity E. Due to a disastrous genetic explosion, Von Simpleton XI has exactly one Magic Circuit, capable of carrying no more than two units of prana. On good days, this is enough to create half a squeaky noise.
Magic Crest: Von Simpleton's Magic Crest, a wobbly circle that spasms at one point into a nonagon, is located on the side of his right glute. It contains venerable and arcane sorceries that reached their zenith twelve generations ago, with Slappy von Simpleton XXV. These are, by and large, completely useless.
Elemental Affinity: Air. He just doesn't have much substance.
Magecraft:
- Squeaky Noise: Once per day, von Simpleton XII can create a single squeaky noise of moderate intensity. The combat applications of this spell are endless, making him a terrible force in combat.
Mystic Codes:
- Silly Sofa: A powerful ancient recliner, containing the salted dust of many generations of von Simpletons. What it does is unclear.
Other Things Of Note: He has a claret-powered elephant butler.

And now, the Servant template. Canon Servants are allowed, but no Gilgamesh/Karna/Mushroom Antoinettes. No fandom characters, please, there are plenty of those crossover R Ps elsewhere.

Name: Name and class, please.
Tale and Time of Origin: What legend is he from, and which historical period can one link her best to?
Appearance: If you don't have an image, you can write it out. Saberfaces are subject to a strict tax.
Personality: Do not, under any circ*mstances, disclose your Servant's wish.
Parameters, Stats and Skills: All stats are relative, A being the highest and E the lowest. No-one has any idea what they actually mean. Ignore Luck. Base class parameters can be found on the TYPE-MOON wiki, under Parameters.
- Servant Parameters
  - Strength:
  - Endurance:
  - Agility:
  - Prana:
  - Luck:
  - NP:
- Class Stats:
  - ???:
- Personal Skills:
  - ????:
  - ?????:
  - ??????:
Personal Skills:
- Explain Personal Skills Here, particularly any made-up ones. Armor and non-NP weapons go here too.
Noble Phantasms:
- Don't kid me, you thought of this part first. Don't sprain your fingers.
History:
- This Is Your Life: Servant Edition.

And, because this is also a very complicated template, I have written an example using everyone's favorite lady-king, Arturia Pendragon. Your actual sheets do not need to be this long, I just have too much time on my hands. And no, I did not write this in 2015 why did you ask

Name: Arturia Pendragon; Servant Saber
Tale and Time of Origin: The Arthurian romances, historically rooted in Celtic times.
Appearance: Hail to the King, baby.
Personality: Serious and aloof, Saber seems more a man than a woman - appropriate, given that she acted as a man for all her adult life. Though not incapable of smiling, she seems constantly pressed by a sense of duty, chased by a past life of leadership with all its responsibilities. She holds strictly to the code of chivalry, dislikes scheming, and will never refuse to help the innocent. When faced with an honorable duel, she will complete it by any means, to the point of handicapping herself to give her opponent a fair fight. Saber has no sense of femininity. Her interactions with females hold the noble courtesy of a knight, and her interactions with males hold an air of military formality.
Parameters, Stats and Skills:
- Servant Parameters
  - Strength: A
  - Endurance: B
  - Agility: B
  - Prana: A
  - Luck: A+
  - NP: A++
- Class Stats
  - Magic Resistance: A
  - Riding:B
- Personal Skills:
  - Charisma: B
  - Instinct: A
  - Prana Burst: A
Personal Skills:
- Expert Swordswoman: Saber possesses a profound and instinctive mastery of swordplay. She can disarm a tournament-level kendo practitioner in one second with an unfamiliar bamboo blade, and her skills with her own sword far surpass any human.
- Factor of the Dragon: As holder of the Element of the Red Dragon, Saber possesses a Magic Core that allows her to generate vast amounts of prana merely by breathing - the prana she receives from her Master is then used to activate this stored supply. This grants her a tremendous amount of energy, but also renders her susceptible to anti-dragon weapons.
Prana Burst: The main element of her fighting style. Saber uses her enormous reserves of prana to augment every move she makes, granting her blows tremendous force. Her strikes generate so much energy that they become visible, and even her steps can crack concrete. This compensates for her slender frame and natural frailty, giving her attacks the metaphorical punch of a shotgun. Metaphorical because they tend to be stronger than a shotgun.
- Instinct: Saber has supernatural intuition, allowing her to evade attacks out of her field of vision and assess even unknown threats with a degree of accuracy. This allows her to ascertain the probability of victory and when she has made a grave mistake, though it is by no means infallible. Treachery has a lessened chance of working against her, but it can.
- Armor: Formed from solidified prana, Saber's armor can be called up in an instant, affording her considerable protection and augmenting her close-range, explosive fighting style. It does encumber her, however, and dispelling it allows her to gain maximum mobility at the cost of almost all protection.
- Blessing of the Lady of the Lake: Under the Lady of the Lake's auspices, Saber can traverse water as if it were solid ground.
Noble Phantasms:
- Invisible Air; Bounded Field of the Wind King: A Bounded Field of swirling air that surrounds Saber's blade, rendering it invisible. This allows her to both conceal her true identity from other Servants and exploit the fact that she has, in essence, an invisible sword. The high-pressure wind augments the power of her sword, crushing and tearing like a vortex. When released, it can take the form of a cyclonic burst or a barrier of wind, the latter of which she can sustain for several minutes.
- Excalibur; Sword of Promised Victory: The fairy-forged sword of the King. Excalibur acts as the manifestation of Saber's ideals, and the people who looked up to her, wishing to be saved. Ninety centimeters in length and twelve centimeters wide, it is indestructible and will never lose its edge. When revealed and charged with prana, it glows with a bright golden light that evokes serene memories in the minds of the beholders. Upon activation with its true name, almost all Saber's prana surges into Excalibur, allowing her to release an all-consuming wave of energy capable of incinerating fortresses. The all-out nature of Excalibur means she cannot use it frivolously, and even a single use must be only as a last resort.
Avalon; The Everdistant Utopia: Saber's greatest Noble Phantasm, the sheath of invulnerability. Unlike her other Phantasms, this one exists in reality, still in pristine condition after 1500 years. Upon activation with its true name, Avalon dissipates into golden light and surrounds her, granting an ultimate defense - for a moment, she exists both in reality and in the fairies' Bounded Field, the utopia Avalon, allowing her to phase through almost any attack on any level of reality and deliver her own.
History:
- there was a girl who pretended to be well-hung and one fine day she was
- and then it killed her

So yeah, I think that's enough from me. Looking forward to seeing all your characters!

Edited by troydenite on Apr 27th 2020 at 12:16:21 AM