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Post by liberata on Oct 21, 2015 15:49:17 GMT
Chaldea, an organization made with the sole purpose of protecting and saving the humanity of any possible danger that threatens them. A place located in a cold place hidden by mountains, the snow covered most of the place leaving a beautiful view for a long-lasting memory. Only if her sisters were there to witness it with her. Tears of sadness were falling down her cheeks as she stared at the horizon, to be summoned as a servant to help humanity in their need once more was no issue for her but being alone was not gonna be the same as being with her nonuplet.
Her figure could be distinguished in the distance by anyone who would come out of the building, by looking at her, one could just stand in silence and admire her natural beauty. A shiny armor and a face that shows a lot of emotions; sadness, guilt, happiness, joy. A lot of feelings being mixed together that she would rather keep for herself, yet unable to control them as more tears kept rolling down her face.
“Marina... I miss you, I really wish you were by my side right now...”
A mental image of her most beloved sister came to her mind. The moments they shared together, the battles they fought together, how close both of them were and just how useless she felt as she let her go on her own the last time she saw her. Her legs lost strength and her eyes shut tightly, her hands supporting her body were now touching the snow where she was standing. Her tears now were slowly freezing with the environment as they made contact with the ice beneath her.
“I could have done more... I could have saved them all... but yet, yet I'm the only one here and again... all by myself”
Several times the thought of suiciding and ending her misery crossed her mind but she had no guts to do such thing. Before a woman, before a fighter, before a member of a nonuplet, she was a saint and a saint's soul's the highest gift that one can achieve as a soldier of god. Her cold arm was serving now to clean up her eyes as she kneeled down, this time for a prayer.
“Dear god, hear my words as this humble serf speaks to you in pain and agony. Grant me strength to overcome my weaknesses, grant me the valor and courage I need to defeat my enemies. Protect me in battle as I, Liberata will bring holy judgement over the souls that once walked down the right path but are now walking in another direction, harming the innocents at will!”
The young girl, at a first glance probably around her mid twenties finished her prayer with a cross mark with her hand. Tears were still falling down her face as proof of the feelings she holds for her loved ones. Fighting against others deliberately was not her thing but to protect others behind her back. If such was the fate of Liberata, to sacrifice herself once again for her people and for now, the masters of Chaldea, then without doubts she'll do it again with a caring smile on her face.
OOC note: Click - background song that goes with the post
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Post by muramasa on Oct 21, 2015 20:40:08 GMT
Muramasa. A person who had lost even his real identity, that had been replaced by what he was now. Sometimes he wondered if anyone else thought like this or if it was just because he was not the easiest person to convince of anything he did not agree with as well. Maybe their own bodies and memories had made them believe they were truely what they were now. Muramasa knew better, should have known better and been able to act that way, but still he felt weirdly disconnected. It was definitely worrying, just as the multitude of memories in his mind, as if they were all his real memories. In some he even died in battle or after being persecuted. In some... he even was a woman. And yet, most of them were negative, only the fewest were neutral and even less were positive. But he could not find a fault with either, each could have happened and there were no hints as to which one was true.
Maybe that was also why everyone had such difficulty to think of him with good intentions. He had needed several weeks to make at least some of the staff around less weary of him and quite some servants so far had thought and uttered intentions about purifying him. Although there was nothing there to purify, although a divine spirit of bloodlust had fused with him, it was not evil. It was just what it was as well as divine, a blessing given to him by his gods. In which he had lost trust after that and renounced not his believe, but rather had come to understand in his own opinion what they were like. And he did not like it, losing even hope in that which most people only turn to when everything else failed. Maybe it had been good, that way he could concentrate even harder on his crafts and swordsmanship.
Having been in deep thought, his steps had led him to the outside and as he looked up, he saw a figure kneeling in the snow. Apparently praying. Slowly he walked closer, taking care not to make too much noise with his sandals, the cold being a weirdly uninteresting concept for him. Unlike prayer, he had respect for people who could draw strength from it, who could still believe in the good of gods and gave themself wholeheartedly. Hearing the tears fall from her face, he stood still close to her and waited for her to finish. Seeing the slightly darker puddle created from tears in front of the golden armor. Sometimes not even the best armor could save you from things. Even more so from such you carried on the inside. One of the main reasons, he never even thought about having an armor, most of his weapons were not effected by any armor and since he was used to be persecuted by his own weapons, he saw no need in it.
Standing in still silence, he looked halfway as if he was praying as well, although he was merely thinking about the gods and not asking for anything, or even posing a question. He knew they were part of the world and could be just as a human, or at least his own and he had no interest to try out another just to get into the same situation. He had had enough of putting trust in something and then learn they either used it or gave him something in return. But he had the feeling that this person needed something else than just a prayer, the tears not seeming to be from being enlightened, but rather from something else. Although he did not know if he should include himself in her new image of an enemy, some people attributed the deeds of his weapons to them or their smith and not the one who wielded them. Troublesome.
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Post by Judas on Oct 24, 2015 7:47:31 GMT
There was once a hero. A hero who hunted across the World. He was brave, audacious and wild. A man who was born out of the seed of the Olympians and the Earth itself. He was beyond doubt a weapon by the gods. A tool made to hunt the beasts of the Earth which, without control, ravages the lands of the followers of the gods. Of course they'd save them. Of course they'd help them. Not out of compassion but position. Who would follow them? Who would pray for them? Who would believe in them? If all the people that knew them disappeared in the Earth. But how can they save them? There was no hero to aide them. There was no man who could be brave enough to save the monstrous beasts that lurks in the forests of Achaea. There was no mortal who stood up during that time. It may appear as out of their whim but the gods did so for their own benefit. And so, they created the "young body" who would become a man. He grew firmly in a short time and became a teenager by months passed. He would grow in the wild, hunt in the wild, and eventually, he would be the master of the wild. Rumors were whispered across the lands. There was a hunter that can hunt the beasts of the forests. Eventually, a king was seeking a heir, and so the gods gave him indirectly the weapon they made. Yes, this hero who was born from the Earth, raised to be a weapon, and was adopted to be a prince. Such a tale was something aspiring heroes would like to hear. For young boys to admire and for you girls to fascinate. "This was no longer that place." He murmured as he scratched his head. He was lying asleep on top of a brand attached to a humongous tree. Trees were quite rare in these snowy terrain and especially near to the Chaldea Organization HQ. Luckily for him, this was nearby. He was never the indoor person. He hardly liked living inside a house, more so a castle. He never desired being a heir to a kingdom. So, when his time came, he left home and ventured the wild where he was born. "I hate this place. I hate this time." He complained as he let his leg hang from the branch onto the air. His voice was pressed as he was chewing some sort of a branch as he laid down. His face showed no irritation in spite of the words of complaint that he let out just now. What was striking was his beautiful face, a face that you cannot say something that came from a mortal womb, and his hair which was as green as the World's forests. "I miss the Pholóē oak forest. What a pain." He groaned as he raised his body. The forest was one of his favorite hunting grounds. It irritated him that he had to do mission in this foreign place in the Far East before he would do hunt in Achaea. Nonetheless, to lessen his ill-mood, he would just accept this as him getting a broad range of hunting grounds. This sparked his interest a bit. Nothing greater than more enemies to hunt. That was, after all, the only reason he agreed to that summoning. "Hey, you Aspros, I will accept this offer but under the condition of the hunt. I have no interest in saving this world. I only take pleasure in hunting." That was the truth of his life and his identity. He may be Earthborn but he never owed the World anything. He may be prideful but he never took his hubris against the gods. Which was why, if he would praise someone, it would be the Olympian gods that made him. . .except Apollo. "What's that?"
Like a cat sensing something strange, his entire body tensed up and swiftly he stood up from the branch. He dropped the stick he was chewing on his mouth and shook his head left to right to look for something. "Hmm?" Strange. He could have sworn he sensed something. Maybe it was getting dull, he chuckled to himself. He leaped from branch to branch and then took his legs on top of another large tree to survey the surroundings of Chaldea. He saw some people walking outside of the organization's HQ but mostly he could see only white blanket. He closed his eyes to sharpen his senses. "I could have done more... I could have saved them all... but yet, yet I'm the only one here and again ---------"
It was a voice of a woman who was seemingly weeping. He quickly picked up its direction and so from afar the woman who as if was kneeling on the white blanket. Curiosity filled his mind. It was unnatural for a maiden, especially dress in that attire, to be in distress. However, he also knew it's against a hunter's ethics to judge things accordingly. In the hunt, proceedings might change irregularly. So, one should be broad-minded as possible. What he can see through his eyes was that this woman was indeed a Servant, like himself. A heroic spirit of the past. He stood up from the large tree and jumped over another. He quickly repeated this until he was meters away from the woman's location. It was in his attitude or virtue to never let a woman crying alone. After all, he was taught by one of his fathers that a woman should be loved and cared for. Personally, he takes pride in making women smile. He then saw that woman praying. It was a prayer different from those he heard from those of his time. It was not an act of calling to one of his fathers. It was an act of praying to someone else. Someone who was not from his time. And then, he noticed the tears which impaled his heart as if he will give sympathy. It was an odd scene. A different view of a woman--no, it was not something that should be labeled with those of his time. He never saw women like that during his time. They did cry but not like this or it ever gave him feelings like this. Slowly, he approached her with firm poise. A scent of another person arriving startled him a bit but let it off for a while. His focus was all to this woman. "I take you are a Heroic Spirit," he said with a low voice but not an intimidating one. "I can smell your sadness miles away. What can a hero do to help ease the pain?" He addressed her while crouching 3 meters away from her face.
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Post by godfreya on Oct 24, 2015 8:16:06 GMT
Snow breezed with the air as she stood on top of a blanket of white. She was there practicing the sword as she had just arrived from her previous mission. She swung her golden sword as she cut a large boulder behind a tree. She was thinking of refining her skills with the sword. Of course it did not dull but it doesn't mean swinging it to ease the mood is wrong. She remembered in the mission that she missed the kill of a pair of ghoul that nearly attacked her partner. She would have let it be since she's a witch but that was wrong. . .proper judgment to heretics should be applied.
"Heretics, pagans, anyone that defiles God's garden. . .I just can't stand them!"
She roared as she stabbed her sword on the white blanket covering the Earth. It was frustrating for her to be assigned on a mission with a Witch. What also irritated her was that place. It dirtied and destroyed God's garden. More of his creations had disappeared and what was left was destruction. This should have never transpired if people of yesterday were prepared and were faithful.
She thought to herself that time during their oath to retake the Holy Land for God. Everything will be for Him. Every sweat, every blood, and every swing of the sword will all be offered for His name and glory. That was her sworn oath that she followed until her death. Then, as they march to Jerusalem, they saw a light. It was a different light from the light of the day. It was a light of guidance. The path which they swore to take. The path to the Holy Land. There are the Siege of Jerusalem, her faith burned gloriously. It was in a zenith to a point that even her fellow Crusaders' admiration for her had grown immensely.
She took pride in it. It was after all the fruit of her devotion and love to Christianity and God.
As she cleared her mind, she raised her head and look at the sky. The sky would be different from that place. But, it's still the same world. The same land that God had created.
She exited the forest with her sword now sheathed. That was when she saw that sight. It was a sight of a beauty, something more akin to an angel than a maiden. She was indeed a saint. Yes, even without knowing who she was, Godfreya could know she was a Saint. It was a feeling as she had witnessed people who "devoted themselves like Saints." Though she were critical of their martyrdom, their strong-will and belief in God was beyond doubt immense. Something that no one but God could judge.
She gazed at her as she prayed. It was beautiful. She was at awe of this scene that someone likea fool would be brave enough to clap their hands after she prayed. But it was wrong to do so. After all, a prayer is a communication between God and the person. Taking at as something like that is an insult. And, for some reason, she felt sadness in the way she prayed. Why? Maybe because of her atmosphere. Or maybe because she desired a miracle? She didn't know but she want to know.
She moved her legs to approach her as she ended her prayer. However, a man with green hair suddenly appeared which halted her movement.
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Post by Mordred on Oct 26, 2015 6:59:07 GMT
Mordred was somewhat fatigued. But then, hours of intensive, prana-sapping training would do that. She planned to return to the Chaldea compound to bolster her slightly taxed prana reserves, but before she could, she happened to catch a glance of someone collapsed in the snow. She moved towards them to provide assistance, such things were expected of a knight, even if she didn't exactly like the thought. Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by people, all likely arriving to help the collapsed woman. She might have left then.
"I could have done more...I could have saved them all...but yet, yet I'm the only one here and again...all by myself"
The words bring up a faded, musty memory, something she'd heard and seen at death's door. The sight of a crying Arturia, stabbed by her sword, surrounded by nothing but dead and dying. Normally that would have brought only anger to Mordred, but after what was a sort of reconciliation, she could find nothing in it but pain.
The prayer that followed was of a similar bent. In form, it was hardly different from a benediction before a battle, something she heard many, many a time, but placed little stock in. A desire for strength. A desire for bravery. A desire for protection. Simple things that any warrior would ask. However, the fact that the snow continued to be stained by tears throughout it told her more about what was going on.
Walking up to Liberata, Mordred walks in close, nudging aside the green-haired Archer. Simply asking what someone could do to help was pointless in this situation, a clear waste of breath. Prodding her side with an armored boot, Mordred intones. "Stand on your feet when you prepare for battle, and rid yourself of the weight that drags you down to your knees. You can't find strength unless you have your muscles ready, tearstains rot courage, and while I will not throw God's protection out, well-maintained armor is more reliable." She hesitates for a moment...as foolish as the tear-stained benediction was, she found it difficult to simply write it off. "When you are ready...I am willing to assist in whatever crusade you plan."
With that, she turns around, trudging slowly back to the encampment.
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Post by liberata on Oct 26, 2015 10:25:47 GMT
The knightly figure that was praying and crying alone was now sort-of surrounded by other heroic spirits that approached her, be it by curiosity, worried or just as they passed by and saw her in their path. The woman in yellow armor, although with tears on her face that she couldn't clear with her arm, she still had an Aura of tranquility and peace. Smiling at the green haired Archer, words at this point in response were pointless as she stood up. Nearby, a blonde girl in armor was gazing at her and another one seemed to be trying to cheer her up with charismatic words. She closed her eyes for a moment and regained her composure quickly, looking towards Mordred who approached her directly right after the green-haired Archer. “My humble thanks to you for such charming words” Her tone being that of a respectful spirit and her words having a deep meaning to the spirits present, such a chance to be near Liberata was rare, yet she had no need to feel superior than anybody. “As for all of you that are present here right now, I am sorry for what you just witnessed and I hope I can meet each one of you with time. My name is Liberata, I was summoned here under the Ruler class by Chaldea and my job here won't be much of an agent but a purifier for the hostilities that we're yet to find out there” Her gaze now resting at everyone present, she directed her words towards Mordred and Godfreya specifically. She was tasked with a mission and she was granted the liberty of choosing her party members for it, be them experienced or yet to experience battle and danger, for Liberata all of them were capable but only a few would go with her this first time.
“If it's not too rude on my side to ask, May I get everyone's name and class please? Allow me to explain” Her tone turning now deeper as in making sure her words were taken seriously. “I have a mission to fulfill, It might be dangerous as I was tasked not to go alone but I'll chose who will go with me. I won't be choosing over religious beliefs, strength or abilities but on how strong is your will regardless of the situation. If I choose any of you to come with me and you choose to help me, I'll be more than pleased to work with you... So, may we start? One at a time please ~”
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Post by muramasa on Oct 26, 2015 18:56:48 GMT
And suddenly the area around the woman was filled with people of differing means and opinions, most of them trying to be helpful, speaking up and disturbing the crying woman with their incessant chatter. Blah, blah, blah. One called himself a hero, a laughable notion of people that were once dead already, another was doing the right thing and keeping quiet. A woman who looked interesting by herself with how in awe she was and the last one said something that could have been printed on a self help seminar leaflet. Just with much more symbolysm and even more religious overtones. And all of them had a peace and quiet to them that made Muramasa wonder if his own swirling fusion of sanity insanity bloodlust despair and corruption would come to a screeching halt if he would keep being around them.
Ah, it would be nice to meet someone who was not this focused on devotion to the cause some times and just have some people who were trying to adapt and come up with solutions. The kneeling, or rather standing up woman who introduced herself as Liberata was just as worse if not more. She was the one who gave off an aura like that of Masamune back in the days, such tranquility, eloquent feelings of peace and a disgusting amount of self centered egoism. Had she not just bargained with her god as well, asked directly for something for herself, sure, under the guise of doing it for god, but there was always a true motive behind it. Hadn´t it been the same for him?
A woman he could come to like, she was just like he had been back before the gods actually answered his prayers and begging. Look out what you wish for, as they say, it could come true in one way or another. Smiling at her, he inclined his head a little before speaking up. "My name is Muramasa, a saber. I could not help but wonder what you were doing out here, so I came to see if you needed help or company. I am looking forward to helping you with whatever you need." He said and wondered what she meant about will, Muramasa himself knew there was barely anyone who could withstand what he had gone through, the despair and insanity and yet here he was. The picture of a sane person between all these high ranking demigods and royals, a simple swordsmith and yet quite certain he could beat them all when it came to a sheer battle of willpower or sanity in front of insanity and mind bending cruelty in the form of ruin and death. Although the awed woman seemed less like the rest in that matter, if only for her reaction and hesitation. Only those who know such things hesitate before reaching their final destination.
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Post by Judas on Oct 27, 2015 13:23:11 GMT
Irritation and dissatisfaction filled his face. His sure fire maneuver, which should have sparked a flare in any woman's heart which he did when he was alive, was thrown aside like it was nothing. As the knight in silver declared those words, overshadowing his voice of concern, he glared at the knight with grudging eyes. It was like a tiger latching its eyes on a prey. However, a scent and a feeling tingled his body. This knight was no ordinary knight. He could smell something off from her. It was a sweet smell fixed with ferociousness. It was similar to the scent of one of the Pleiades and somewhat closer to Hera rather than Artemis. Is this knight, a woman? That was the idea that surfaced through his mind but chose to let it go for now.
The golden armored woman stood up as she seemed to have regained her strength. He showed no other expression rather than plain loss of interest. Her strength in coming back from depression was fearsome but to him it made it quite unattractive. He followed suit, taking a stand with one foot bearing all his weight and his right hand resting on his hip.
“If it's not too rude on my side to ask, May I get everyone's name and class please? Allow me to explain. ”
She began addressing everyone in the area and asked them about their identities. He first picked up the scent of that man with black hair while eventually obtaining the presence of the other two after he had arrived. Although, his interest on them being so little made it quite uneasy for him to pick up their scent. It was more of personal laziness rather than lack of attention, which should be synonymous in a sense. For him however, during the hunt, both comes along differently. And as it was happening now, he was showing the latter. As the golden armored woman explained, he let it passed by his ear like wind. He had no interest in this nor had any plans in saving anyone in the first place. And most of all, he hates being commanded. But, there was one line which sparked his curiosity, quickly taking him out from the world of being inattentive.
how strong is your will regardless of the situation
He wanted to burst out of laughter but chose to keep it in for the sake of feeling the amusement. Strength of will? Such a concept never existed in his life and in his deliverance. He was neither persevering nor hardworking--he obtained through innate skill he was born with and hardly tried. A hero known for courageous efforts he might have been but he was far removed from those who were idealistic. That pursuit of something was definitely something to him. He obtained everything he wished to attain in life without putting his will to a test. He may have pursued something---but it was something that he already attained. That challenge that nothing could par in this world, that was what he pursued and obtained. He finished it and died after accomplishing it. His strength wasn't his will but his existence. In the first place, he never had this will as he lived through his objective all his life and his purpose becoming his existence. So where was this will? And if there was, what strength of will should a man who even threatened Gaia, one of two the overseers of the World, herself be afraid of? What strength of will should a man, who faced Gaia's defense system, the World Scorpion, itself on top of one of the world's greatest stage, be afraid of? What would falter the strength of will of a man who carved his existence into the world as "the Hunter" whose name echoes across, not the world, but the heavens?
" Absolutely nothing! "
He roared to his thoughts that answer.
To hear such words, and to be claimed by a heroic spirit like him, will introduce pathetic hilarity. He was prideful, audacious and daring. Not even the gods could shackle him. But that was because he was a hero who both served and respected the gods. And so, there was no need for them. After all, a weapon he was, who did his objective, and exemplified the glory of the hunt.
As a second passed, the black haired man first introduced himself as a Saber class Servant. The strongest class they say which sparked his interest upon meeting, not one, but two---no, maybe three, as he glanced his eyes to the gold and silver knight behind Ruler. He gazed at the man with observing eyes and tried to smell him even with the distance between them. A little of his scent reminded him of a "man he once met". However, he judged that there was something off, however he ignored it, paying no more interest to the black haired Servant.
"Ahahaha. . ."
He chuckled as he lifted his right hand from his hip to his face. It was covering it with all his fingers stretched in all directions of his head. And then, he burst out laughing.
"Aahahahahahahah."
Before introducing himself and explaining his response, he sighed and fixed his gaze at the Ruler class Servant.
"Chryso, I was impressed by your declaration at the same time amused by it. strength of will? HA! I am the Hunter in the stars."
He declared as he introduced himself while he folded his arms on his chest. He need not say his true name. After all, he was confident that no fool would not know the name of the hero who was engraved into the skies as the Hunter. That was his answer to Ruler's declaration. Strength of will? His name is strength itself. Will? His existence broke will itself. Those were not hard facts but his personal beliefs---a conceited image of oneself.
"I have no interest in saving that Underworld. However, I am a hunter employed by Chaldea and a hunter hunts. Those Chthonic beasts are on my hunting list to relieve myself from boredom."
He declared as he turned his back away from Ruler, the red and silver knight, the gold and silver knight and the black haired servant.
"It appears our objectives match. Right now, I am dying of boredom."
He followed as he turned his head back to them while letting out an excited grin.
OOC notes: the first italic was a reference to Achilles wooing Atalanta in Fate/Apocrypha. Orion's self-confidence does not only appear in his abilities for the hunt but also in catching a woman's heart.
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Post by godfreya on Oct 28, 2015 11:26:24 GMT
Godfreya stood there without reaction while listening to the first three servants that spoke. Liberata, the saint in Italy. She was given knowledge about her existence through the summoning but she was not entirely sure of her story. She was like other saints who sacrificed their life protecting a religious view or action. But her movements as a heroic spirit were different from the Saint of Orleans that was a generation after the Defender of Jerusalem. She was akin to that Apocryphal Saint in the Far East who produced miracles in a revolt. Nonetheless, she was a figure who devoted herself to God.
"May God Bless you."
That was Godfreya said before the black haired Servant were able to introduce himself. It was an advice to Liberata's prayer. While listening to the green haired servant's audacious and conceited introduction of himself, she thought that the Ruler servant's desire was no different from her. Cleansing that place of vile beings that defiled God's creations, that was her plan and purpose into this world. She may be no saint but Godfreya will by no means try to enforce pure judgment on that plain.
Her wandering mind was interrupted by the green haired Servant's laughter. She was surprised by it but it wasn't going out of his character. From her point of view, he was one of those prideful heroes who conquered challenges. She let out a silent sigh after hearing his bold declaration. As he introduced himself, Godfreya clicked her tongue.
She knew him. No, everyone should know him. He was no stranger to any Heroic Spirit, to any person and to anyone especially those who lived beyond the Age of Gods. He was a hero whose fame crossed the borders of stars. So, she knew that he embodies the ideal self of a hunter. He was a man who conquered the heavens. No, he was no man. As Godfreya glared at him, she understood that he was a hero made through playing gods. A weapon created by the fools who dare call themselves gods. Therefore, he was a byproduct of heresy. Something she will never accept. He maybe a fearsome Heroic Spirit but to her he was nothing more but an abomination of so-called gods that committed intercourse with mortals.
"Blasphemy!"
She roared in her heart as she glared at him. After he had spoken, Godfreya addressed him with a heavy but charismatic tone.
"Hero of the Stars, son of foolish beings who called themselves a god yet have intercourse with people. Preposterous. Like your abominable fathers, you are nothing but a vile creature mad of oneself."
After that, she composed herself with an short breather and then turned her head to Ruler.
"Dear Liberata of Italy, no matter what problem you had faced and actions which you thought you lacked, always remember that God is with us. I am Godfreya, Defender of Jerusalem and one of the leaders of the First Crusade, now summoned in the class of Saber. I have seen conflicts and blood throughout my life and endured them for the sake of God's will. Even now, what I desire is the same as yours."
She unsheathed her sword and stabbed it on the ground while placing her right hand over its hilt.
"With my blade, I offer my will and fate as a helping hand for the sake of protecting God's creation."
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Post by Mordred on Oct 28, 2015 15:35:12 GMT
Mordred stops, turning back at the explanation that the woman previously sobbing on the ground. The woman, Liberata, wanted to purify the hellhole they were working in? That would certainly be a feat to be achieved, though if it would be worth the trouble, Mordred couldn’t answer. In any event, she was getting a bit bored regardless. She needed something to break.
“I am Mordred, of the class Saber.” No words minced or wasted. There was no need to do anything more than answer the question. Still, she begins to lose patience with some of the other Heroic Spirits present. The hunter’s unending boasts, and her fellow knight’s tirade both wore at her patience. Though, Mordred couldn’t help but feel somewhat satisfied with their responses afterwards. Someone else bored with events as they were, and someone else who had experience with conflict and blood? It would be hard to deny the value of these comrades.
The soft-spoken swordsman was harder to judge, as he’d only said a single sentence so far. Then again, she liked people of few words. There was almost always a great deal less hot air about them. While she could not be sure about him as much as she could the others, he at least deserved a chance.
Liberata’s second question, though, was something that was more difficult to answer. Unshakable will? Could she claim to have something like that? While she saw her betrayal of Arthur as right, proper, and necessary given the circumstances, would that be viewed as weakness or strength. In the end, she just said her piece. “I follow the necessary path. No matter how much pain or suffering lies within. If your mission is worthwhile, then it will be seen through to the end.
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