Fantasy and Fate collide.
Well- here it goes. It's not a proper Deathbattle so it won't have Wiz, Boomstick, or that stupid match character.
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Beginnings[]
Gilgamesh found himself looking from afar at what appeared to be a young man in the prime of his life. Aside from his style of dress and the purest white hair he did not appear unusual- yet it could not be denied that he was out of the ordinary without any question or doubt.
The King of Uruk had a place for every man, woman, and child within his kingdom. No matter if they were the lowliest slave or highest advisor- he could see every future and work of them spread out beneath him as though a great gaming board. Each move could be accounted for like the most perfect cog in a machine.
All save this man. He who had appeared without warning. This man, if he was a man and not a God or some other being that surpassed Humanity, was hidden from Gilgamesh’ clairvoyant sight. He simply did not appear no matter how hard or how deeply Gilgamesh gazed upon the future.
Eager to test this most curious of occurrences, Gilgamesh ordered a slave to approach the man and ask his name and business in Uruk. Should the man prove evasive, and Gilgamesh was certain he would be, he was to then be invited to dine with Uruk’s King.
To his surprise, no sooner had he given the order than Gilgamesh found the white-haired man took but a single stride and stood before the King despite only an instant prior standing in the midst of the city. It had not been true teleportation to Gilgamesh’ eyes. Instead the fellow had seemingly connected the space between locations such that his step might cover far more ground than possible.
Gilgamesh nodded at the new arrival and was greeted with a kneeling bow in return. The fellow’s shoulder-length bangs briefly eclipsed his eyes before he resumed an upright stance and revealed that his irises held no color- the depths of his eyes were white and black without the slightest color otherwise to be seen.
Gilgamesh, resplendent in gold from the waist down, was pleased to note that the fellow understood common courtesy. He spread his bare arms wide, “Did you travel far to come to my fair city? I confess you have me at something of a loss- I do not know your name.”
“Puck.” So answered the man. “You are the King of Uruk, Gilgamesh, born of the Gods yet willing to scorn them and turn them aside.”
“I am a man who values riches and wealth.” Gilgamesh sipped at his golden goblet, the anger of the past briefly rising in him again, “The Gods that take such away from me and mine have earned every bit of wrath I give them. Do you come serving such Gods?”
“I do not.” Puck shook his head, “I serve Oberon, King of the Fae.”
“Another King…” Gilgamesh ran a finger along the rim of his goblet, “Does he too see the perfect place for everyone in this world?” A slave brought Puck his own goblet at a kingly nod.
“He strives to do so.” Puck admitted as he drank deeply from his gift. “But as of yet he has not succeeded. The Queen that ruled before him saw to that before he took the throne from her.”
Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed, “A usurper? He stole his crown?”
“Of course.” Puck drank deeply again- puzzling the servants as his first draught should’ve emptied the goblet enough to warrant refilling yet there appeared to be enough for another great drink. “All should have its place and Titania did not rule in that fashion. My King desires paradise and perfection in equal measure- not separate. To that end he would do whatever was required.”
“A worthy goal.” Gilgamesh ordered a slave to bring him a tray filled with succulent meats and fruit and another to approach Puck. “Is that why you have approached me? Am I to be part of your King’s paradise?”
While worded as an idle question, Gilgamesh was deep in thought. He knew nothing of this Oberon, Titania, or Puck or this kingdom they possessed. To be introduced to such new beings and indeed a hierarchy that he was unfamiliar with and furthermore could not be seen by Sha Nagba Imuru was either a great curiosity or a grave threat. The King of Uruk would be sure to choose his response appropriately.
Puck’s answer sounded as calm as though he were discussing the clear skies above, “Oberon has a place for everyone so long as they follow the path destiny has laid out for them.” The Fae, for it was clear that he was not a member of Humanity, plucked a leg of tender meat from the tray and eagerly bit into it. He closed his eyes in pleasure at the taste before swallowing and speaking further. “But for those that defy their fate he has no tolerance and no wish for their presence.”
Gilgamesh’ gaze darkened and his slaves drew back, well aware what the change in their King’s visage could herald. “Am I to be tolerated by Oberon?” Beneath his jovial tone there was an undercurrent of golden pride that had been wounded. Who was Oberon to tolerate Gilgamesh?
Puck, either unaware of Gilgamesh’ growing distaste for his liege or uncaring, nodded and fetched up a ripe fruit and tossed it into his mouth. “Of course.” He glanced up at Gilgamesh and gave a short bow. “A King above all others knows when appropriate to bend the knee. I honor you and I honor my lord in equal measure.”
Gilgamesh gave a smile, “In equal measure you say?” There were traps hidden in these words.
Puck shrugged, “Of course. To those above my station I defer and to those under I punish or reward as commanded. As Fate decrees.”
“As Fate decrees…” Gilgamesh murmured the words as he helped himself to more of the land’s bounty piled high atop the platter at his side. “Fate is a path that must end, as everything will. To live and eventually pass on and die is to follow Fate- to be human. What do you say to that?”
The Fae shook his head, “If there is an end to Fate it is an end Oberon will not allow. Any that rises as an obstacle to this will be ruined and destroyed.”
At this the golden King laughed, “And here we find the limit to tolerance. No change but the change he wills- is that right?” Puck did not immediately answer and Gilgamesh rested his cheek upon his open palm. “Such a King should learn the value of defeat. It could prove useful for him.”
Puck’s own eyes narrowed, “Oberon does not appreciate failure in any form. He also bears no patience for fools.”
Gilgamesh did not move from his throne nor his relaxed position atop it. “Has he any patience for you?”
Puck politely returned the golden vessel to a trembling slave and watched him scamper away. “None.”
Gilgamesh nodded in thought, “Then perhaps it’s best your unruly King be taught a lesson.”
Puck straightened to his full height and a wind began to build in the room: setting the tapestries swaying and his own hair lifting in the shifting breeze. “Oberon brooks no argument and no rebellion. You instruct at your own peril.”
The air between the two thickened with tension and Uruk's throne room began to quake at the conflict from such mythical beings facing one another. Errant streaks of light manifested and vanished from the conflicting personalities clashing against one another.
Gilgamesh’ smile was a brilliant and shining light from the noonday sun. “Show me your loyalty then. Let me witness the power of your King’s dream!”
The room trembled and a series of portals began to form in the air behind Gilgamesh and along the walls- invisible for the eyes of mortals. Puck’s eyes did not turn or blink in the slightest as he locked gazes with Gilgamesh.
“Of course.”
FIGHT[]
Gilgamesh lazily lifted his free hand and gestured towards Puck. From one of the shimmering portals a golden lance shot out at incredible speed and sped through the air with the thunderous clap of noise. The lance pierced through Puck’s shoulder and embedded itself into the floor behind him as a spray of blood spread through the air from the injury.
Puck swayed from the hit but otherwise made no move or sound from the impact. His blood stained the royal room in a wide splash in utter silence. The Fae’s eyes bore into Gilgamesh as he reached backwards without looking and pulled the lance from the throne room floor.
Gilgamesh found himself unable to discern Puck’s true intent until an instant too late- in a single controlled motion the Fae hurled the lance through the air and impaled a nearby servant to the wall behind them.
“You dare-” Gilgamesh’ voice contained genuine fury. “The battle is between you and I!”
“No.” Puck admonished the King of Uruk as his gaze remained locked into Gilgamesh’ own visage. “The battle is to the strong. Those too weak to dance to the beat can leave or fall.”
“If you will take no warning,” the deadly tips of three dozen weapons emerged all around Puck to surround him, “then you will take your strength to the grave.” Gilgamesh called and his Noble Phantasm answered. The Gate of Babylon held more than simple treasure, it held the basis of all legends and the shining spark of human intellect. It could be said the Gate itself contained the power of numerous Noble Phantasms that could not be measured.
But to Gilgamesh the wealth that none alive or dead could match was nothing better than ammunition to rain upon his enemy. From all directions the weapons flashed out of the Gate and sped towards Puck with a great CRACK of surpassing the speed of sound itself. The first shot had been a warning but the volley that was launched was nothing short of an attack that was intended to take a life.
Puck exploded into motion and lunged forwards to grasp the first weapon within reach, a slim sword. A rapid hammering noise filled the room as he spun around at frightening speeds: parrying multiple weapons and snatching up several more when the sword failed him and broke under the onslaught.
To defend against so many Noble Phantasms was not all that different from suicide. Even without activation many still held magics that could make defending against them in the wrong manner no less lethal than allowing them to hit directly.
But Puck possessed the Power of Knowing and the Power of Understanding. As quickly as the weapons manifested and were launched- all the faster did he discern their abilities and plot around them so as to avoid danger. The Power of Knowing did not analyze the weapons so much as create the raw information of what they were and what they did independently of cause and effect. The Power of Understanding meanwhile made the established fact a reality that Puck could process to its fullest no matter how little he could comprehend it. The two combined enabled a certain unfailing cognition of any and all that was within their range. And Puck’s Powers reached far.
Each weapon was Known and Understood before it reached him: a sword that could freeze space itself was repelled without touching the blade and a sickle that could cut past flesh and bone was avoided in its entirety. But Puck could not respond to this attack forever- the errant aftereffects of so many Noble Phantasms was filling the world around him with hazards and sooner or later he would make a mistake or run out of room to maneuver.
The Fae took a single step and appeared at the entrance to Gilgamesh’ throne room instead of the center where he formerly had stood. Gilgamesh ceased his attack and demanded an explanation, “Is this the extent of Oberon’s dream? To flee at the first hint of loss?”
Puck reached his hand to a stone pillar and at his touch it shimmered as though seen through the heat of a summer haze. The pillar shrank and twisted until Puck held a shard small enough to heft between two fingers. “Who between us truly has lost as of yet? I have all that I began this conflict with. What say you?” Puck hurled the rock not towards Gilgamesh but into the city behind him. With a thunderous roar it broke through a series of nearby homes as though Puck had thrown the entire pillar into them.
The trick was clear to Gilgamesh as was the threat. His foe possessed the ability to manipulate the physical characteristics of objects. The shard contained the weight of the pillar but as it was far smaller it could be thrown through the air far faster. And while Gilgamesh found himself unable to discern Puck’s true intent this threat was clear at least: he would attack Uruk itself if Gilgamesh didn’t make himself better available as a target.
“A filthy move.” Gilgamesh rose from his throne and followed Puck beyond the entrance of his throne room. “You will pay dearly for every drop of blood you shed this day. We will battle beyond my city’s northern wall.”
The Fae faced the King with an unreadable expression. “Why would I accept that request?”
Gilgamesh broke into a savage grin, “Are you so afraid to fight me without hiding behind others? Truly your desire to win by craven means must be great if it surpasses your need for a battle of legend.”
Puck contemplated this taunt for several seconds before nodding. “Fine then. We can set our battle such that it brings no immediate danger to your city.”
Gilgamesh summoned a ship fit for a King and sat upon its throne. The golden vessel was called Vimana and Puck likewise set himself atop it as Gilgamesh bid it rise and fly over Uruk.
Meanwhile in the throne room, a robed woman gathered the servants and slaves together and rapidly issued a series of whispered orders. They scattered through the city to begin evacuation as far above them the King and the Fae spoke of their coming battle.
“You are strong.” Uruk’s king saw no shame in admitting the truth. “Does this Oberon treasure you as a friend to trust you with this task? Or does he shame your strength by casting you away for any trial that rises?”
Puck mutely sat at the front of Gilgamesh’ vessel and looked beneath them as they flew over the kingdom- at all the many pools and even mirrors and windows they passed over.
Gilgamesh’ foresight failed against this Fae but reading him without magic was well within the king’s abilities. “It is both then- he treats you as a loyal dog, a mongrel, fit only to do what he thinks beneath him? A worthy task- fetch the master’s slippers or perish in the attempt.”
Puck stood from the front of the craft and turned to face his opponent down. “I have reconsidered sparing your city from our conflict.” The Fae’s face held every tell of wrath known to mortal man.
“A fascinating coincidence.” Gilgamesh smiled. “I no longer consider it a conflict that is ours alone.”
The Vimana spun and a combination of wind and lightning plucked Puck from its decks and hurled him before the Northern Wall. The Fae impacted the ground with a crash that shook the city and Gilgamesh reached into his treasury once more.
“If your master sees fit to discard you then I see fit to source your battle to those more fitting of your station.”
A surge of power lit up the skies like a second sun and seven lights coalesced atop the Northern Wall. Seven Servants were summoned and seven Heroic Spirits of legend would answer the call. In another time and place Gilgamesh might use this same power to summon Servants from Japan that were renowned for battling monsters. This time however- Gilgamesh desired killers of men. The King of Uruk called for the Greeks.
Heracles, a Berserker of unyielding strength and a body that a God itself might find issue with destroying.
Chiron, an Archer possessing wisdom and experience of the ages and a skill with a bow that few living or dead could match.
Achilles, a Rider of fearsome speed even among Heroic Spirits and divine protections to render him difficult to properly assault.
Leonidas, a Lancer of legendary shielding technique and a flawless grasp of defensive strategy.
Medea, a Caster that hails from the Age of Gods and a user of spells that draw close to True Magic.
Jason, a Saber known less for his skill in combat but instead his incomparable ability to bring heroes together.
Stheno, an Assassin with an immortal body of a perfect Goddess.
Puck emerged from the stirred field of dust and debris to find this legendary force awaiting him- a collection comprised of many a hero that had few to no equals.
The Fae wore a smile that promised pain, "To each his own- and my own to me." Puck called forth to the World and many a Puck answered the call.
From a hair plucked from his head a new Puck formed and stood at his progenitor's side for the fight.
From his past reflection in a pool a different Puck appeared and flashed through the city to join the conflict.
From his shadow on the ground another Puck quietly emerged and calmly took a position near his brethren.
From the words scrawled on an abandoned scribe's scroll Puck's arm pulled the parchment wide as if a window and brought himself into the world.
From the blood left lying in the throne room's floor a new Puck bubbled into existence.
Each of the newborn Fae took to the battlefield with a single step and both sides prepared to enter a new phase of conflict.
FIGHT ONWARDS[]
Chiron flung out an arm to halt Jason's charge and keep the young Saber at his side. Heracles roared and leaped from the wall- such was his speed that the air itself compressed and burned in front of him as he soared towards the waiting Fae ranks.
"You are our only means of directing him." Chiron cautioned Jason. "Leave Heracles and Achilles to spearhead the charge. Leonidas shall guard us from the counter-assault while Medea takes to the skies and I fight from afar."
Near the wall's base a fearsome storm of sand, dust, and disturbed air formed as Achilles tore off in his chariot. A spartan of ages past remained behind with the patience of a statue. Leonidas would allow none to pass while he lived on. With a flicker of distorted space the purple-robed woman at their side vanished into the skies.
"What of me?" Jason asked.
"You and Stheno remain close. Wait for your chance and then strike hard and true the both of you."
Jason and Stheno's responses were lost as Heracles reached the Puck lines and Achilles an instant later tore into them from the side.
To say the clash was felt through Uruk would be comparing the ocean to being wet.
Heracles' first blow saw his stone sword cleave through the blood-born Puck without slowing and the ground beneath him fared no better. A chasm fit to carve through a mountain appeared on the battlefield with a split half of the Fae on either side of it.
Achilles never slowed nor hesitated- instead his chariot and the steeds that pulled it accelerated well past the speed of sound and approached the speed of light itself. The roar of its passing could only be heard well after the fact- in seemingly an instant Achilles had gone from over a hundred meters distant to leaping over the newly born chasm with the Pucks sired from shadow and written name tumbling in his wake.
"You'll have to do better than that to keep up with me!"
The sun was hanging high in Uruk's sky and offered no view of the stars. Chiron instead made due with an arrow that generations of archers would struggle to match even once amongst them all- followed by several more each fired with the same superhuman skill as the last. First one then the following three struck the Puck that had formerly been nothing more than a hair each within a centimeter of the other and to the last they punched through his chest to reach his heart.
A fusillade of magical light rained from on high. Medea's magic turned a ritual that would require multiple magus working in cohesion and chanting that would span minutes into a single act and then replicated it again and again. A bombing raid could not match the devastation as the light obliterated the ground and a certain Puck that only seconds before lived as a reflection in a pool.
In unison each Puck began to smile.
"This is growing interesting."
The Puck born of blood pointed each arm forwards- the two halves slid through the air above the chasm to become whole while a red mist began to form around Heracles.
"Heracles!" Jason began to order a retreat but Chiron stayed the younger man's hand. "Why do you stop me?"
"Fool." Medea's voice echoed from on high. "Can you not see that the magic used isn't harming him?"
She spoke the naked truth. While the crimson fog floated free from Heracles the Berserker took almost no notice of it. Despite uniformly streaming from Heracles the scarlet haze was thickest around the crude stone sword he hefted around as though the weapon had the weight of a feather rather than many tons.
The conglomeration swirled through the air and became a slim steel dagger in the waiting Puck's hand. The Fae's silver eyes glanced at the blade's length for only an instant before the weapon was pulled into action.
Heracles lunged forth once again and this time the blood-born Puck raised his new weapon to defend himself. It was unthinkable that a mere foot of metal could halt a column of stone larger than a man yet when Heracles struck again the Greek hero found his opponent unmoving.
"I claim the strength of all those whose blood you've drawn."
The Berserker was rebuffed and now the Puck he fought was on the offensive- each swing of the dagger the equal of the stone club and perhaps even more. A nick no deeper than that of a close shave caught the edge of Heracles' shoulder yet from the wound a fountain of blood blossomed that would fill an Olympic pool.
"And I offer the injuries of all you've maimed."
The Pucks of written word and darkest shadow tumbled through the air as Achilles' chariot turned round and prepared to run them down once more. As the Heroic Spirit drew close each Puck gestured in his direction- acting in the instant before the chariot would leap over the chasm to strike at them.
"Shadows, rise and bind!"
"Resolve, weaken and thaw!"
Between the two of them Achilles saw the impossible become reality. His steeds each screamed and attempted to halt as the shadow beneath the chariot grew and surged till it covered half of the battlefield. The hooves of each horse would no longer leave the gloom beneath them and Achilles' will to battle faltered as the chasm before him seemed to stretch larger and more terrifying with each passing heartbeat.
The Puck sired from a single hair coughed up a stream of blood- the life liquid turned to dust before it reached the ground. At a gesture the dust still in the air whirled about and became a single bow and arrow of ordinary make. Yet Chiron knew in his bones that this was no ordinary bow or arrow- no sooner had the Puck released the projectile that it multiplied as quickly as it passed its own length in distance. One became two, two became four, four became eight- at a distance of a thousand feet one arrow became a swarm fit to blot out the sun.
It was then that Leonidas acted. At his side stood the legendary 300 Spartans that had fought at Thermopylae and though the arrows struck them in numbers uncountable- they would yield no ground and would prevent all damage to their charge.
Each of the Fae's arrows was absorbed into the newly-activated Noble Phantasm and Leonidas pointed his spear forwards to call forth the counter-attack. To the last his men had taken this attack and so all the greater was the returned energy. If Chiron's original attack had possessed the power of a dozen men then Leonidas' reprisal would have the power of three hundred in comparison.
The Puck sired from a single hair was obliterated with nothing remaining.
Trivia[]
Puck and Gilgamesh were paired together primarily due to their respective roles- Gilgamesh as the greatest king to become a Servant and Puck as the greatest servant to an arrogant king.
Additionally the two have an opposing color scheme: Gilgamesh mainly makes use of gold and red while Puck is typically depicted with silver and blue.
There is also a parallel to how they battle: Gilgamesh can call upon the weapons, armors, and items of other Heroic Spirits while Puck can alter the world around him to call upon his own weapons, armors, and items.
Furthermore they hold differing views on the destiny of humanity. Gilgamesh would support the notion of rising above one's fate while Puck would instead insist that humanity needs to be crushed and subjugated by kismet.
The summoned Servant line-up for Gilgamesh was chosen based on the idea that the Greek heroes were famed for killing men. This idea mainly stems from stories such as Troy in-particular where it was often said the average soldiers held back and waited for the 'killers of men' to be the few that actually would charge forwards and attack the other soldiers.
Additional Heroic Spirits considered for the summoning were Cu Chulainn (Lancer), Artoria Pendragon (Saber), Solomon (Grand Caster), and King Hassan (Assassin). Ultimately it was decided to stick with a given theme (Greeks as killers of men or Japanese as monster hunters) for the summoned Servants as that was felt to be more interesting.