T-Rⁿ/MoE is an interactive Type-Moon roleplay forum dedicated to all works of the Nasuverse. Rather than one work we pride ourselves on encompassing facets of multiple works of the Nasuverse. It is composed of Fate/Stay Night, Tsukihime, Kara No Kyoukai, and more.
To create a multi-story universal themed experience is our goal. The choices are not just relegated to Masters and Servants, but an infinite realm of possibilities including Dead Apostles, Ghost Liners and many other beings. You can even choose a mere mortal. So, prepare to enter the world of the unpredictable but always exciting Nasuverse, where you can free your mind to extreme possibilities.
Abandon hope all who may enter this world.
Join us for the adventure of a lifetime to shake the very foundation of your beliefs and ideals to it's very core. What will you do with the chance for ultimate power?
- Will you defend all that is good?
- Will you embrace the darkness?
- Will you stand in the shades of gray?
Thanks to: Everyone that has been putting in their help to the community as well.
Type-Moon, Fate/Stay Night, Tsukihime, and Kara no Kyoukai are works of Kinoko Nasu - Type - Rⁿ/Möbius of Echelon (T-Rⁿ/MoE) will not claim to own the titles, characters, or information cited within their works as their own ideas.
All characters, original information, and player contributions are made only for roleplay purposes for T-Rⁿ/MoE and are the intellectual property of Lunactic Inferno.
Please do not copy text, images, or code from the Type - Rⁿ/Möbius of Echelon website and call it your own or use on any other website.
Type - Rⁿ/Möbius of Echelon is an interactive, member-based, Fate/Stay Night and Tsukihime roleplay forum.
After a heated argument and a duel between Saber and Taiga, the King of Knights secured her position within the Emiya household. Unsure of how to start, Shirou simply began interrogating his new Servant. Saber's replies were tart, her persona as a king of men cold and untouchable save for a few moments when her Master surprised him with his zeal.
Despite her best efforts, Shirou was unrelenting in his desire to fight alongside her. The two reached a delicate compromise: Shirou would let Saber handle the front while he supported her from the rear with his prodigious archery skills.
The matter settled, Shirou armed himself as best he could and offered Saber a set of clothes left over by a mysterious woman named Irisviel Von Einzbern. After selecting her new outfits, Saber dressed and the pair left the Emiya estate to face the darkness head on.
February 15th, 10:30PM
Emiya Shirou trailed after his Servant and guardian, verbally directing her down the streets as they made their way to Homurahara Academy. The air in Fuyuki was cold. As if all life had frozen. Perhaps the news from their neighboring city, Misaki, had spread a wave of fear through Fuyuki, leading its population to retreat into their homes as quickly as possible. The young red-head kept his eyes peeled, however. The black monster managed to insert itself into his shadow without him noticing. He would not tolerate a repeat.
But every so often, his gaze would drift onto the blonde marching resolutely before him, her regal bearing sharply contrasting her casual appearance. For a moment, he felt regret. Shirou knew Saber belonged in her armor. She was a knight. He would have to literally be blind to miss that. No, she was the knight. Saber was what knights tried and failed to emulate. Of that, Shirou had no doubt. But her mysterious appearance only begged the question: what was her purpose here?
He'd have to ask her later.
Their trip to the school was uneventful. Shirou wasn't sure if he should have been relieved or disappointed. He guided Saber to the Archery Dojo and drew out his spare key. Even though he quit the Archery club, Ayako gave it to him on a whim since he would still come after school hours to clean and maintain the club facilities. The atmosphere within was serene. The polished floors sparkled in the starlight.
He spared only a moment for nostalgia's sake and disappeared into the locker-room to retrieve his personal bow and arrows. After he won the national championship for the school, Shinji drove him out, but Ayako and Sakura still clung to the hope Shirou would return to the club so they kept his gear maintained. He silently thanked his friends and apologized. Shirou had no intention of ever rejoining. His archery was flawless and he saw no reason to continue pursuing something that was already perfect.
With one last glance, he left the range behind.
"Sorry for the wait, Saber." He said, locking the dojo doors behind him. His equipment was packed neatly into a large bag meant to hold his bow and quiver, but traditional Japanese bows were too large to sling over his shoulder, so he had to carry it in his hands. It made him look highly suspicious, but he'd rather have to deal with an irate police officer instead of being caught unarmed by one of those shadow monsters.
Saber and Shirou's adventures finally begin. But complications arise in Saber's quest for the Holy Grail and Shirou's journey to become a hero. A menace plagues Fuyuki's streets. Will the newly-minted pair survive what lurks in the darkness? Or will their battle end before it even begins?
The servant Archer was only a shadow of the man that once lived. As of this moment that man was still a boy growing into his own and thus his early adventures were certainly nothing to brag about. If this laughable farce of an adventure could even be called one. As it seemed at best it was a random act of nativity and ignorance. Still, there was some merit in the fact at least he had the common sense to bring Saber this time. Surprisingly, he was going to have to give Emiya Shirou just a bit of credit this time.
Under the guise of absurd normality the knight was trying out a new disguise. As far as disguises went a black shirt with black pants was ideal with a pair of black sunglasses to further conceal his signature steel grey eyes. The shirt clung tightly to his body as he walked. Infiltrating the school grounds at night was easy enough for him. It also seemed that neither that fool Emiya Shirou nor his equally clueless servant had noticed they were being tailed the whole time. Of course in this situation it was not exactly like he was looking for results or a fight. The boy was so on edge chasing his own shadow that he would not notice a nuclear detonation if it hit the school. Perhaps that was a stretch but nonetheless the fact remained he was oblivious to a number of things. The first was the fact he had no idea what he was hunting or rather being hunted by.
On the contrary, rather than conceal himself at this juncture he would take the alternative choice. It was curiosity that the cynical servant would follow his quarry. After observing the pair, it seemed that the boy had something he wanted to take with him, interesting and what more would Emiya Shirou make use of than at the time the weapon which was the catalyst for the only real talent he had aside from some half-assed mage-craft.
The legend of sure hit and no loss of Homurahara, a fact that anything Emiya Shirou intended to hit would hit. Mentally he had no desire to recall yet another memory that was not his own. Before he knew it a familiar phrase passed his lips."Trace On” Rather than his bow for mounting noble phantasms he would replicate the very bow that was just removed from the dojo. As far as the bow felt in his hands, it resembled nothing but a cheap toy.
“Ridiculous why am I even wasting my time with this.”
However, coming this far he had removed his shoes and before he knew it was poised with a newly minted arrow notched and looking straight ahead at the target. If swordsmanship was his fancy then archery always would hold a special place, for the name sake of his class, it made sense. Even now the ramblings of sure hit were more fact than any legend could hope to be. He didn’t need to look to notice the target had been all but obliterated in an instant. He did not even worry about breath or the arch of the shot. It was going to hit and did.
Absurd, since he did not really pay attention he had not seen how on the mark the shot was in fact. He sighed heavily, compared to the mess on the night of his arrival this little mishap was nothing. Sure to leave the Archery dojo as pristine as before his arrival, just as suddenly he was gone.
With that little detour out of his head the servant departed just in time to let that boy get a little farther ahead. With his eyesight, there was not need to get too close. This was why in reality Saber had no clue of his presence. Already perched on top a nearby building, gone was the guise of normality, replaced with his signature crimson mantle and body armour. The blood red shroud swayed in the air waving like a banner through the wind as he focused his hawk-like vision at the pair. Suddenly and without warning the thought of why in the hell he was babysitting these two crept into his mind. Much less he questioned why he was even remotely interested in this however he already had his answer.
[smear:FF4040]I am the Bone of my Sword, Steel is my Body, and Fire is my Blood.[/smear:BF0000] [smear:FF4040]I have Created over a Thousand Blades, Unknown to Death, nor Known to Life...[/smear:BF0000] [smear:FF4040]I have withstood Pain to create many Weapons,[/smear:BF0000] [smear:FF4040]Yet these Hands will never Hold anything...[/smear:BF0000] [smear:FF4040]So as I Pray...[/smear:BF0000] [smear:FF4040]Unlimited Blade Works[/smear:BF0000]
Word Count: 839
Template made by: [smear:BF8F00]Kotomine Kirei + Lunactic Inferno[/smear:805F00]@ Blue Heaven/Aoiro Joukai
Hardly no words were exchanged between the Master and Servant from the moment they left the gates of Emiya household. While it should have been the first time Saber set foot on Fuyuki city, she led Shirou around the neighborhood as though she remembered the city almost on the same familiarity as a local. If Saber was surprised at this fact she made sure to bury the thought immediately as she focused her conentration on the protection of Emiya Shirou, her charge.
The new outfit certainly changed her appearance to suit this era. From an armored Knight, her appearance was not that different from any of the locals who would be wandering around the streets in light casual wear during the day. The night however was still relatively cool and most people would wear longer sleeves than the shorts Saber picked among Irisviel's stash.... not that there was much of a selection to begin with. Cool breeze swept past her thighs yet no usual yelps escaped her lips befitting a young girl her age. Did Servants feel the difference of climate at all? or were they simply immune to climate changes? Not even the cold affected her iron defence over her Master as she hung her invisible sword on her shoulder while accompanying Shirou to the school.
It was an odd concept to grasp her head around. Formal education had been a privilege shared only by the heirs of nobility and merchants in Camelot so the thought of it being available to anyone was odd to say the least. She looked around the school as she accompanied Shirou to the Archery Dojo, to see if the facility was indeed safe for Shirou to commute to. Afterall, this was apparently the place Emiya Shirou enjoyed disappearing to, while leaving her to be on standby at the Emiya household. Perhaps she will try to visit the school in day time tomorrow to see to protection of her charge.
Saber would need to ask Shirou later.
Throughout their visit she felt as if a prickling sensation was gnawing at her from her slender nape. Were they being watched? If so she couldn't detect where they were being watched from or what was spying on them. Perhaps they were being watched by a stray hawk circling the neighborhood for an ideal prey, except Fuyuki's night skies were free of such birds as evident when she surveyed the night sky. The fact that she couldn't be certain whether someone was deliberately spying on them or not slightly irritated her as she couldn't pinpoint where and who was watching them from afar. Perhaps she was too cautious and there was nobody watching them. Periodically she thought she could pinpoint the source but as soon as the thought crossed her mind she would immediately lose the trail.
She muttered under the scarf that flickered against the night breeze as she stood waiting for Shirou who came back with his traditional bow.
So far the night has proven to be uneventful. She silently prayed for her Master's sake that it would remain that way as long as possible.
"Where should we go next Shirou?"
"Uhn'agh Fash, Uulwi gag erh'ongg w'ssht!"
[smear:FFFFFF]The weight of my sword is the weight of my pride. The wound from my battle with you is an honor.[/smear:6a8ac2]
Word Count: 596
Template made by: Kotomine Kirei + Lunactic Inferno@ Blue Heaven/Aoiro Joukai
Countless stories throughout the world kept children in place and safe at home. None would dare compare faery tale stories to that of threatening bodily harm, banishment, or even death as did those reciting of monsters lurking in the dark. Since the first age of man the shadows held only fear within humanity - abhorrance of the unknown. Intolerance to the power hidden in that other world that came awake as the rest of their kind slept. of those it were not always the intelligent monsters which held terror over their heart; it was the nonsensical drive of cold, calculative, nature within beasts that brought them to their knees. Humans felt that if something fiendish resembled the human form, took part in the human tongue, that it had some sort of ability to be reasoned with. Not so much as with "dumb beasts". Nothing could dissuade them from their reason to exist but that of nature itself. Thus the pre-programmed input to kill anything walking the path of night became a setting forever carved in the subconscious recesses of those stemming from bygone days. You could not tell a monster to be not a monster. You could not tell it to slake it's thirst on mud or fill it's belly with technology.
Even for those attempting to co-exist between the two inevitably fell into becoming naught but beasts themselves.
February 15th, 10:30PM
Thoughts were fleeting these days, driven only by the banal urge to sate animalistic tendencies warrant towards keeping out of the way of humanity and it's encroachment towards nature. Lately the forests stretching past the harbor were relatively quiet; sometimes far too quiet. Freight lessened it's shipments to the harbor and left behind only rusted cargo boxes for the indigent of society to seek shelter within their cold and hollow caverns. They were easy pickings, malnourished, unkempt, and nearly driven to barbarism. They were not what the being wanted. They were not what drove it mad. They were not the holder of the incestuous voice trying to call out to it in finely tuned agony. The voice sung like an instrument of horror to drive it into utter madness and despair. It would do anything to silence it. If that meant engorging itself on everyone in this quiet city it would be done. If this city were not enough it would go to the next...
By bucket-fire and scrap the beast became a circulated rumour to the homeless. An animal sent from the void to exact judgement by whatever ancient gods held it's chain. Wolves did not exist in Japan. Here, only demons and ancient spirits preyed on those unlucky souls. The last thing on their mind now were protecting themselves from their own kind.
Even nature refused to take them in - for they were truly abandoned.
The beast began to question such ephemeral power of it's phantom "master" holding words over it. Each time it thought of choking to death on blood of it's victims or stuffing meat into both lungs to end it's life - and yet it had no power to do so. The mental distortion began to drive the golden-haired beast towards it's own sentience just to ask why it had to suffer such damnation.
It wanted to be left alone and not feel that pain again.
This was unfortunately not possible.
The golden-hided monster lurking within the forest scrub had come out once more to find a meal. The smell of berries and earth permeated it's glorious fur to wrap it with the motherly embrace of Gaia herself. Mist fell from it's coat as it transcended through the chilled mist of the harbor and scaled the artificial landscape of the hill. Cement breakers stuck out at unnatural geometric shapes as the beast climbed and ducked around them. By the time it had reached the outskirts of the park on the other side the voices of intruders to it's territory could be easily picked up. One sounded as if it embodied neither male nor female presence - as it was too old and crackled to understand with the canid's limited brain. A melodious sound of varying materials caused the beast to focus on several more senses than mere hearing alone. Stretching up onto it's belly to the crest of the hill a gruff exhale purged the sterile smell of decaying humanity from the auricle of it's nose. Armour? The one with the voice wore something drug out of the feudal period; possibly some heirloom of the family that was best left forgotten or stored on display in a museum. The second voice, in answering the conversation, belonged to only the air. This confused the wolf-like transgression. No matter which direction it's ears were caste only the pocket of emptiness held it's vessel. Whatever was going on here was alien to such a creature. It would wait for an opportunity to strike...
This would not be long either. As soon as silence fell upon the "armour-dawned" elderly man, and his conversation with ghosts was no more, a bright streak like lightning descended out of nowhere. The monster was enormous when sized up with the unsteady bulk of such a wiry foe. It's shoulder reached the top of a nearby tree which had been bred to stay no more than six-feet in height it's entire lifetime. Without even a thought the two engaged in combat more fitting for the Arctic wilderness than suburban Fuyuki. Several seconds in and the old coot had resorted to a series of maneuvers using a chained weapon to grasp at the enormous wild dog. This went on for several minutes while the beast leaped in and out of combat space to test the new adversary and his strange manners to combat - at least until it decided that the man could bring no actual harm and a decision connected the nerves in it's brain to the deadly jaws. That was when a series of invisible shocks assaulted the beast's pelt in impossible ways that no chain could inflict. The giant forest creature was not fighting a delinquent which happened to escape home on an incursion befitting Alzheimer's Syndrome. No, this was a magus.
From that moment the entire flow of battle changed into a carnal nightmare...
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into a fury of death. The beast had turned from a strike of lightning into a golden tornado of insanity. It gnashed and tore at the rivets and metal rings covering the sleeves. The leather ties stood no match to keeping the plating of such defense in place when being smashed around. A deep purple glow on the older man's body had become a target to something unimaginable and unable to be understood by human thought. This was a magus - and it needed death.
DIE! Silence. Cease!
There was a viscous crunch as the beast's jaws sunk into the feeble body of the tenacious old man. Bits of tile broke with the sharp sound of ceramic crushing to the great power. Vertebrae made a flat popping as they curved inwards and began severing the precious nerves they shielded and a gelatinous putty of foul smelling serous fluid mingled with the rank saliva. The integrity of the cartilage disks padding the cervical membrane could take no more. Unable to drown out the screaming both within, and outside of, the canine's skull the near lifeless body was lifted part way from the cold, flat, park ground and ferociously shook it like an undying, unbreakable, wave of the great sea. The old man's limbs flailed beneath the ancient armour like thin reeds giving way to the tumult. This magus would not survive the encounter with the great beast of the forest.
As if to desperately grasp some word within the wolf-like creature's sentience to cry out it's matching suffering an internunical wail emitted in an almost humanistic fashion when the corpse slammed into the ground. A sick crack was audible in the stillness falling in between the howl as each of the temporal bones failed to hold integrity to it's interlocking shape. Front paws dug in to the near unidentifiable face of tonight's victim and stubby claws tore all stricken flesh, muscle, and bone to bits.
The pain that this mortal form held surely would have been far worse than that of it's aggressors; so why was it that the mental agony did not stop despite having wrenched all life out?
That was the source of all internal agony. The very word, the thought, of what it was and what it meant turned a once noble creature into a monster suffocating in the depths of Gaia. It would not be free till each and every last one of them were stricken from this world to the next! The beast stuffed it's jaws with broken fragments of tile and the slippery guts opened up through the abdominal tear. Gray mixed with the monochrome nature of the world around them where only the colour of golden fleece vied contrast. Blood pooled into the dirt to feed the grass which would grow up soon when spring would come. These were the true laws of nature which could never be defied.
Before any hope could come to aid this man who's family may never come to know his death, half the body had taken refuge within the wolf's own cavity.
The end of an era has come, goodnight to you friend to the old world. We are no longer needed. We are no longer wanted. Best to die this night under the moon - free at last of the world's shackles.
February 15th, 10:33 PM
A globular mass came free as it was ripped out of the corpse's body. The magic crest belonging to whatever family the body belonged to glowed brightly in it's lingering moments. If it did not bond to another form it would be lost for all eternity. What would a simple creature do with such a knotted mass of cysts so disgusting that even medical science would label it an abhorrence?
Eat it. The voice spoke like a serpent poisoning it's spirit with devilry.
And so it was eaten...
The sickening taste of acid, stringy flesh and unset enamel assailed it's taste-buds. Would this be enough to satisfy the voice this time?
Eat it! Eatiteatiteatiteatit!!! The voice insisted like an indomitable surge of insanity and hatred that brought only despair to the creature it inhabited.
It was not in those moments which brought true horror, but those thereafter when the crestomathy bonded to the feral animals form like others in the past. This was not an ordinary beast, but an aberration made now a walking, living, breathing magical weapon. In it's own pain the corpse would only cease to be defiled once all circuits, and command seals, were stripped out like veins being removed from modern surgery. Countless glowing "tubes" made their way past tongue and teeth like parasitic worms to infest their new host. Even this did nothing to comfort the animal in it's moments of thrashing about as it fought to control whatever possessed it. Trees were plowed into and vegetation uprooted in the time thereafter. The whole encounter lasted only a scant few volatile minutes.
February 15th, 11:00PM
Enraged howls echoed through Fuyuki as night was disturbed. Domestic animals wildly threw their voices in an attempt to protect their own territory, or provide some sense of solace, to the schizophrenic creature teetering on the brink of despair. Such a guttural scream for salvation came only from a single direction - the old Park.
What was it about that place that dredged new evil into the world?
I worry for Lugh's diet lately; eating all these magi, Servants and ghouls. Maybe we should find him a spiritual veterinarian to see if he is okay. Is he okay? I guess we will find out.
Word Count: 2012
Template made by: [smear:BF8F00]Kotomine Kirei + Lunactic Inferno[/smear:805F00]@ Blue Heaven/Aoiro Joukai
D (B) Endurance:
E (D) Agility:
C (B) Luck:
E (D) Noble Phantasm:
B- (A-) Skills/Abilities:
Bravery A, Instinct A, Protection from arrows D, Eye for Art C, Magic Resistance A, Riding C, Information Gathering, Angry Words Calm mind B, Aura of Peace B
After a strange summoning by a stranger master, The greatest Samurai is sent on a foolish quest, only to return to... Something bad...
February 15th 9:00 PM
The dark room was filled with odd baubles and artifacts from the feudal era of Japan. All walls were decorated with swords and masks, paintings and manuscripts. It would suffice to say it was a crowded, cramped space, with the exception of the middle of the room. This space on the floor was occupied with a large summoning circle, adorned with pieces of art and weapons. In its center sat a small wooden sword, its tip broken, and encrusted with ancient blood. At one side of the room, close to its door, was a figure, clad in black armor that was akin to the samurai armor worn by cosplayers, only actually made of metals, and offering true protection to its wearer. This figure was a man, an old man, in fact. A man aged far beyond reasonable to be wearing such armor. He was, in fact, a Magus, of average strength. He had been in this place for hours now, slowly drawing prana from the air to cast the summoning spell. As the clock struck 9, suddenly, he pushed his pour into the spell, and chanted the verses.
Power surged through the circle, the winds howled as the fabric of reality tore apart, to assemble into a form, clad in black armor. True samurai armor, that made the summoner look like a mere fool. Over this figures back, pointing over his left shoulder, were two katana, sheathed, yet still holding an aura of menace. "Are you, who wear such a... strange outfit, my master?" The figure asked the old Magus. His voice was deep and neutral, yet contained a note of dissapointment, as if he could not quite believe the figure in front of him was truly his master. "You have summoned the Heroic spirit Miyamoto Musashi. The great Japanese swordsman. If you are truly my master. Than what is your command?"
February 15th 11:00 PM
The ronin marched through the silent streets, his body clad in a green kimono. "Honestly. The old fool is obsessed with becoming the shogun leader of feudal Japan, like it was in my time, then he sends me out to buy him sake to celebrate his summoning. I can't believe I was summoned by someone with such a foolish wish and more foolish plans. Doesn't he know that walking alone is bad for his health, after becoming a master?" The Vagabond Samurai held two large bottles of Sake in each hand, as he walked through the maze of alleys to his masters home. "Not to mention his foolish summoning, trying to use old fashioned Japanese instead of the normal summoning verses. The old idiot caused the ritual to fail to fully complete. How am I supposed to serve him if I can't even feel his presence in my mind... Oh... Crap..." The bottles fell to the ground, as he came upon the remains of a grisly scene. Covered in blood, the lower half of a corpse lay on the ground, fully unclothed. The exposed spine and ribs held only scraps of meat, and the crushed skull was scattered into pieces around the body. By its side, a massive golden haired wold lay, screaming its wolfish howl as it writhed on the ground. Musashi felt from it, a strange pressure, as well as a tang of fear, still fresh on its fur from its victim. Suddenly, Musashi felt a pang of pain, deep in his core. He reached out to his master, for the faint brush of consciousness he should be able to feel, even without a full contract. Instead, he felt only the void, and the accompanying death that creeps up on a servant, deprived of a master. Suddenly, the scraps of black metal surrounding the body became familiar. "You old fool... You went and got yourself killed before you could become Shogun..." The sake was now forgotten, as Musashi's form shimmered, and his clothes were replaced with his black armor, his face now obscured by a mask of neutrality, as his voice echoed out to this monster that had deprived him of a master, "Oy, monster. I congratulate you on killing yourself an old man. But prepare yourself! For your death has arrived!" Even if he would not last forever in this world without a supply of Prana from a master, he would easily have enough to eliminate this monster who stole a life from under Musashi's care.
Without another word, he charged the creature, his swords suddenly in his hands. His left hand swung down and moving to the right, as his right hand thrust forward, slowly cutting to the left. His left foot reached forward, while his right foot lightly touched the ground, ready to push of, propelling him in any direction he decided was necessary. He would push the monster back, through the wall behind it, and impale it on his swords. He would drain the prana it had stolen, and use that to sustain him as he searched for a new master.
The battle for the survival of the ronin has truly begun. Will he slay the wolf? Will he survive to find a master? Will he live to see the grail in his hands? What is this mans wish, anyway? Find out next time on: The Adventures of Miyamoto Musashi, vagabond samurai!
[smear:92a5a9]The Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death. [/smear:6f7b84]
Word Count: 955
Template made by: [smear:BF8F00]Kotomine Kirei + Lunactic Inferno[/smear:805F00]@ Blue Heaven/Aoiro Joukai
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