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Post by Astolfo on Mar 26, 2016 3:07:47 GMT
When Chaldea had called for this vital mission, for some reason they’d immediately recommend Astolfo for the job – something about it being difficult, or complicated, or something like that? Ah, he didn’t remember! What was important to Astolfo right now was the fact that he was currently having the time of his life. At first, he probably looked a like a fool roaming about with an oversized butterfly net and a safari cap; but now – now he’d found his true calling in this operation.
Having rushed on ahead of his team, it’d probably be a while before Astolfo’s assigned comrades caught up in the pink-haired boy; and the unique scene he’d made. Well, he was technically mustering them, so he was doing his job, right? The Servant was surely making a strong display of his heroism and sheer power as a Heroic Spirit here! Though, maybe he was having a bit too much fun… but, that was the sign of a good job, right? Right?!
Kneeling by the back wall of the messy lab the mice had originated from, the pink-haired paladin was surrounded by frolicking mice; currently being entertained by the beaming Rider as he waved a cat toy around in the air. Unsurprisingly the boy who was so easily enchanted by the cute and cuddly was all too happy to have the animals crawling all over him; with more than a few of the lab rats sitting on his head and lap. Though it seemed like he’d intended to capture them at some point given his horn and book sitting beside him; however the horn had become something of an improvised play-tunnel for the mice. One had to wonder if Astolfo had even read the mission’s description.
"Okay, I’m gonna call you Roland, and you can be Renaud, and you’re definitely Charlemagne, and you – ow! Definitely Morrigan! Waah~!” blathered on Rider, apparently intent on naming each and every mouse around him… which were continuing to multiply as he tried to take stock of them one by one. "Ooh, you’re definitely Florismart; and that’s Ganelon… ah, and there’s Turpin, the big one! Wow, it’s a splitting image!”
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Post by Roland on Mar 26, 2016 4:21:14 GMT
The red paladin dashed through Chaldea towards the objective, manning a two-meter long, azure super sabre that looked right out of one of those sci-fi movies. His figure was blurred by the speed of his stride, and the expression on his face could very well have been likened to a demons'. It was an unfamiliar sight, unfamiliar enough for a curious amount of screaming to be heard from the hallways he zipped through, division by division. However, Roland would take no notice to this extra attention, as he was...
"Gonna be famous again!!"
Without a doubt, all of Chaldea would echo his name following this first departure. The "man who slew the mice". Every nation needed a hero, and this peer was more than happy to be summoned here. After this he'd go on to slay rats, then even bigger rats - and if he was lucky, perhaps even religious fanatics or giants or creepy wizards... Just like the good old days! Man, being alive is so wonderful! Attempting to fight back his tears of bliss, which ran down his face unabatedly and flew in beautiful streams before reaching the floor, Roland continued to clumsily navigate himself through the structural mess that was the research division. He hadn't actually had the thought to recall the coordinates of the lab, but by a stroke of luck, he managed to come across vague trails of mice and a very suspicious open door.
He entered the lab solemnly. Just as advertised, a horrendous amount of the furry friends coated the interior, a few of them tickling past Roland's shoes. There would be no time for hesitation here for the pest patrol. He raised his blade, The Peerless Durandal, and prepared to... hold on.
There was something else living besides mice in the room. And they, for sure, weren't hiding. In fact, they were as bright as any daisy. Vibrant pink hair garnered by a ribbon and a complimenting white cape; someone who shined on the spotlight and questionably in the bedroom. They called the names of men Roland knew very well, cherished very well, and passed their legacy on to the mice. Could he really kill the mice now, knowing of that legacy? And more importantly, could he stay calm over the fact that OH MY LORD BLESS CHARLES IT'S ASTOLFO IT'S ASTOLFO IT'S THE PEERS THE PEERS THE PEERS ARE BACK.
He shot towards the sight with overwhelming vigor, barking his dear ally's name. Lowered at his side, his still-activated holy sword unknowingly sliced right through the floor as he ran, making a clean arc of environmental destruction. "Astolfo! Astolfoooooo! Olfo, Astolofo! That's you, right!? Right!? Why are you wearing a safari cap!? And you can't call that one Roland - you know there's only one Roland!"
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Post by Gareth on Mar 26, 2016 10:36:19 GMT
Gareth had expected himself to react differently to being assigned a mission to slaughter mice. Maybe he'd be offended, thinking it a clear smear on his pride for scientists to ask a knight of his status to deal with simple pests, or maybe humbled by the sincere request of the science crew, who had thought of his name when they were in their direst hour. Or maybe just even sigh in frustration - something, anything. Yet none of these things left his lips, or showed in his face; Gareth reacted with the nod of a half-dead man, fatigue having long overtaken him.
So rats. Okay.
As the crestfallen warrior walked the hallways of Chaldea, the sound of little feet scuttling about and the little songs of mice grew louder as their place of dwelling revealed itself. Materializing his rather oversized sword in his hands, the Arthurian knight began to swung with no hint of excitement, an aura of mood-dampening hanging off him like a crown as broad swings merely scraped the fur of rats before they were sliced in half. Another men could compare it to Sauron from Fellowship of the Ring, but Gareth hadn't indulged in such pleasures since his summoning.
What was that to his right? Were the rats speaking? Had he finally gone mad?
One girl, admittedly very attractive, played amidst the rodent hordes while another seemed to refer to her as an old friend, barely unable to contain his excitement at her sight. What a sight for sore eyes, a lesser man would have thought, yet the knight simply found it silly. Whatever they had done in life was irrelevant - they were in a mission to slaughter mice. Would anyone even want to be recognized in such a state?
Then again, whoever this girl was, she had been playing in them. So maybe he was dealing with two crazed Berserkers, and -
What is this? Entertaining thoughts? That won't do, Sir Gareth of Orkney. He looked down and continued his broad, lifeless slashes, not minding his companions.
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Post by Astolfo on Mar 27, 2016 9:13:27 GMT
While initially too focussed on his new family of rodents to care for the new guests; that mash of red hair quickly made him look up... h-hey, that knight was killing the poor things! Immediately upset, Astolfo have a grumpy huff; clearly about to give Gareth a good scolding for his troubles. But, as he opened his mouth to object, someone else caught his eye. And, what a sight it was. Lips quivering like a heartbroken schoolgirl, Astolfo would stare up in awe as his mind connected the dots; unable to react properly to this new appearance. After a few seconds of hesitation, tears would begin to gently trickle down his cheeks… his heart was pounding, but yet he couldn’t move a muscle. Mouth agape, he would finally stand up; a small rain of mice skittering from his lap and shoulders. To all the world he looked like a poor young girl, met with a heartbreaking confession… "R-Roland…?! But, but… it’s Roland…!” blathered the boy meekly, awkwardly finding himself unable to react properly with so many emotions welling up in his heart. Knees trembling as his life-long friend charged up to him, Astolfo would eventually gain a gentle smile – he remembered something really important. "T-The Peers of Charlemagne are eternal…!” For whom do we go on for?And, with one long, wondrous movement, he would meet Roland’s gleeful charge – "Y-You…!”Slamming his head aside with his Casa Di Logistilla. "IDIOT!!!”For whom do we awaken again for?"You got us all killed, you giant stupid jerk! What were you thinking?! I can’t believe you! You’re so stupid, stupid, STUPID! IDIOT! AAAH!” snarled Astolfo in frustration; though admittedly coming from the petite knight it was anything but threatening. But, he continued to wail on Roland with his improvised club all the same. "Raaah! I’m so mad! You’re the worst! I hate you, hate you, hate you! After everything we did, you messed it all up… the King’s gonna be so mad, you know! Y-You… Roland…!”Whether that person still exists or not –Gradually burning out, Rider would awkwardly slump against his old comrade, tears still pouring down his cheeks – an eternity on the throne had led to this, and would surely still lead to it lately. All that loneliness, all that longing; all that frustration; and yet it was all still a game to Roland. Despite everything, the legendary knight was still acting like a kid... ...In that moment, all of Astolfo’s frustration seemed to vanish as he finally looked up. – I’ll always be waiting."…I missed you…!”
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Post by Roland on Mar 28, 2016 17:06:33 GMT
“The…!!” Upon hearing Astolfo cry out the words of his creed, the charging paladin’s face lit up with infantile happiness. It had been so long since he had heard those words. It had been their motto – their war cry that they’d chant even to their heroic deaths. He thrust his arms out in glee, pumping his fists as he ran, and repeated the mantra. “The Peers of Charlemagne are eternal! The Peers of Charlemagne are – !”
SMACK. We go on in a world —Roland’s head whipped back. He was brought to a halt, not from the force of the blow, but out of utter shock – in a storm of pent-up emotion, his dear friend had cursed him an idiot from the bottom of his lungs, and only now had Roland properly got a look at his face. The red paladin’s own forward momentum caught up with him, upsetting his balance and leaving him toppling to the floor. “Astolfo…? Why are you —”SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. — crying...? The torrent continued — and Roland was wailed on, blow after blow, by his own mistakes. "W-wait... Astolfo…! Watch where you're aiming that thing! You almost flattened Ganelon! What in Charles' name did he ever do to you!?" The rest of the mice began to scatter. Finding himself unable to avoid a single of Astolfo’s strikes, Roland just kept getting hit; his arms were raised in surrender and he had already been disarmed of The Peerless Durandal. As the situation became clearer, Roland relaxed, beginning to take the hits without much struggle. He stared up at his dear friend, smiling as he was quietly pummeled. — where we awaken again for someone.He thought back to old times. To much darker days. If Roland were to lose his sense once more and were to go pulverizing forests in a clothless rampage: if there were anything that would bring it back, hearing all this would do it ten times over. The pummeling had slowly come to an end. Sitting up, he scratched the back of his red wool of hair. “Yeah, I thought about it a bit, and I realize that it was my bad. But, the more I lingered on it all, the more it made me think…” As he began to speak, his face dripped with regret; but as he trailed on, as if by the flip of a page, replacing it was utter fascination. “Man, we fought so well, right!? Didn’t you think so too, Astolfo? It was like, for every thousand of them, there was only one of us – and yet, we kicked so many of their butts." He shook his fist in exclamation. "We were really strong!”Whether someone is there or not, that's what I think.“I’m sure even if Charles is mad, he was totally in awe that day.”Whether someone is there or has gone —"That's why, we're gonna keep making him proud. Come on, Astolfo!" Aside the slumped Astolfo, Roland stood up. He raised a helping hand to his fellow Peer, a toothy grin stretched across his face. They had a mission to do, after all. "Let's go get famous!"We'll bring the Peers back! As he looked down, he heard something escape his friend's shaking lips. "I missed you too!! And Charles! And Olly! And all the Peers...!" Roland shouted with all his heart, his voice cutting through the skies. It was then that the dam finally burst. Man, he'd only just been revived and his eyes had already gone this puffy... just what sort of Paladin was he? — I sing. "Eh? Wait... where did that guy come from? Is this blonde a friend of yours, Astolfo?"
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Post by Gareth on Apr 1, 2016 16:37:44 GMT
What the fuck.
Something was going on between the two starry-eyed lovers there, something that made Gareth theorize they were maybe married. There had been joyful cries, beatings and then actual crying in a timespan too short to suggest otherwise. The one once called 'Black Brooder' thought of interrupting it, but even ice melts eventually - let them be, it seems they need it. Meanwhile, he can just continue doing...
Urgh. This.
Combat had been one of his favorite - and arguably, one of his two - skills in this world, yet swinging around the oversized piece of metal he called a sword was not exactly his idea of fun. It seemed like a waste, but Sir Gareth of Orkney found himself considering making use of his lack of weapon expertise, to remind himself of the praise he once gained during his travels. Minor knight or not, he was still the Son of Lot that had gained praise by Lancelot of the Lake, described as 'fighting like a giant' - to somewhat lacking in expertise or subtlety, such a statement would surely only mean he fought with strength, but it took much more than that to impress and fight to a standstill a knight of the Round Table with naught but a spear, a sword and a shield, master of no weapons, not a piece of armor to his name. No, his skill indeed lied someplace else.
His strategy was to overwhelm.
A foot slammed against Chaldea's metal ground, releasing a dead thump as his armory materialized around him. The spear of Ser Kay in one hand, hand grasping right at the middle of the pole as it thrusted forward with force, clearing out a straight line of the cluttering pests as they gushed forward blood and guts and dented a good few inches of the floor. Its hilt held by the other one, his sword rested against his shoulder, a gigantic two-hander that had once decorated the courtroom of King Arthur himself, its gaudy appearance and heavy weight failing to save it from being chosen as the once kitchen-boy's weapon. Around the forearm of that same hand, a shield with the crest of the Black Knight had been fastened with straps.
His fingers released the spear from his grasp, allowing gravity to take his toll as the freed hand shot upwards to grab the hilt of the blade, aiding its twin in bringing it down in a large arc in front of him, transforming his direct frontal radius in a wave of blood and minced rodent flesh that exploded sideways. Using the momentum of the swing the sword returned to rest in the other shoulder, being allowed to fall down and slip into its hilt by the Earth's natural whims as Gareth confirmed the shield to be aligned properly. Letting his body fall to the ground in a roll, the defensive armament's polished surface crushed a cluster of the mice into a pulp with the knight's own weight, his hand grasping the very edge of the top of his lance's hilt as Gareth brought it up with him, letting his palm slide across it so that the tip remained against the ground to cut any survivors from his little combo.
The youth of Orkney released his breath, his mood much improved. Maybe a bit of pointless violence had been what he needed after all.
Oh, he'd forgotten about the other two - standing amidst the bloodied remains of the massacre, the blond afforded the surviving horde around him but a glance before turning to the reunited lovers.
"Do you both desire to go off and seek a private room?" Gareth said, much more polite and cheerful than usual. "It would be alright, really, for I can handle these pests. A couple reunited across death and time should spend some time together, after all."
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Post by Astolfo on Apr 2, 2016 12:22:56 GMT
Finding Roland as childishly eager as ever, Astolfo was overjoyed - "Gosh! I was so worried you’d turn into a divine jerk like the other Servants! It seems like dying makes everyone a demi-god or something nowadays!” chirped the pink-haired paladin, dancing about in circles despite their company’s grumpiness mere feet away. "We did kick a lot of butt! But, not dying would have been nice too! You really should have double-checked that map. I wasn’t kidding before, the King is gonna be super mad at you later. Um, whenever Charles gets summoned. Do you think that the boss will get summoned? I hope so! I want to get the Peers back together! And then, when we’re back, we can have all those fun conversations again! And the games again! And maybe fight giants too! But, I don’t really wanna go to war again, that kind of sucked. My least favourite part of the war was –“Thankfully, Astolfo’s endless blabbering would be interrupted by the red mist of rat remains that licked at his ankles; making the poor boy jolt up in disgust. "Noo! The Peers of Charlemouse! Whyyy?!? It’s just like that day!” lamented the paladin, ignoring Gareth’s complaints in the midst of his own horror; "Waaah! We can capture them instead of butchering them like that, you know! At least do it in a cleaner way! You’re cleaning this up, young man!”Stomping on the ground in frustration; Rider manifested his own weapon – he had no care for all the of the martial prowess of his unknightly companion, but given his current weapon of choice was predominantly made of tubing that just about encompassed the boy’s whole body it was hard to blame him. With the complex horn entwined around him, Astolfo’s cheeks puffed into something different than a pout (for once); pressing valves and moving slides all around the mass of brass before finally letting loose with his breath – ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓With the roar of a dragon, the cry of a giant bird, and the neighing of a divine horse all rolled into an awful cacophony; the horn’s blast would shudder the very walls and shatter all kinds of equipment around the room – not to mention probably leaving his nearby compatriots rattled, if not worse. But, alongside the calamity of the sound’s tremors; the Noble Phantasm would leave the unfortunate mice as naught but dust. Mass killing wasn’t really Astolfo’s style to say the least, but in this case it was probably the most considerate option… especially with the whole multiplying thing. Unfortunately, while Astolfo looked awfully proud of his work as La Black Luna folded up again, there was still a survivor… a pink tail vanished around the corner outside the door, and down the hallway – oh, well; now there were two survivors… and then, three only a second later – the Servants would have to hurry to get their job done, lest it end up a bigger task than it started. On the plus side, it ended up at a dead end at the end of a long, long hall; but on the other hand the pursuing Servants would be met with a most despicable foe – a hideous caution sign warned of their newest enemy.
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Post by Roland on May 21, 2016 12:12:11 GMT
As Astolfo continued, a pore of sweat ran down his face. The king wasn't that mad, was he? Nah, he wasn't.
"That was the map's fault! It was useless!!! But... yeah. Though, you have to think about the positives of war, Astolfo." For a moment, he raised his finger like a scolding parent. "Like, heroic acts and all that. I recall you doing lots of those! Remember when you helped me raid our own rations cart? Man, they had so much stored up there - why weren't they giving it all out!?"
Ah, the red knight remembered it so well. Hearing them all yell, "Roland, you monster!" and, "We were saving those for the winter!" and then Charles' thirty-ninth take on the look of utter disdain. Hold on, that's all... that's not how it went, was it? Roland was a hero, right...?
Boss won't remember that too, right?
Gulp.
Roland's attention finally resurfaced, leading him to face a horrid reality. Blood and guts, and Astolfo was screaming! Who did this!?
Oh, it was that distant fellow. Strange. Roland had recalled addressing him, as well as being addressed - but immediately following the two instances, the red paladin had completely forgotten about him. He doesn't seem bad, either. It seemed like he'd been doing a lot of the work while they were having their reunion, so Roland would have to make up for this and clear up, he'd have to make up for this and clear up, he'd have to make up for this and clear up.
What was that sound? Oh, the rats have disintegrated. Nice horn, Astolfo.
One left! Two left! Gotta chase them! Hey, who's that? Strange. Roland had recalled addressing him, as well as being addressed - but immediately following that, the red paladin had completely, utterly forgotten about him. Gotta clear this up. Roland walked up to the fellow knight, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Hey, you seem like a swell fellow, with your... glassy stare and your... attitude, but let me finish this, pal. I'm probably better at this than you!" Hopefully, he made a good impression. Now, on with the rats! Through the hallway! Patter-patter-patter. Patter-patter-patter. "Watch me, Astolfo!"
Slip.
He flew through the air, breaking out into an impressive backwards roll as he approached terra firma with a ca-lunk. His hands opened wide, releasing their grip and immediately, madness ensued, electricity beginning to spark from friction and broken piping. Even the large, yellow caution sign had somehow been sliced in half. Shimmering lights and a familiar buzzing sound filled the hallway as Roland found himself having to thrust himself aside to avoid being dismembered by his own airborne weapon. He then paused to watch it in utter shock, in prone position. It spun upwards in a circular motion, rising in a way that was reminiscent of water released from the mouth of a fountain, goring the ceiling, slowly curving downwards and sinking back into the pool of... concrete. And as it could be seen through the crack in the floor, again. And again. And again. And into another pool of concrete. And another. And another. Right down to the... bottom floor...
"DURANDAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The sword that could cut through anything.
Roland's furious cry filled all of Chaldea.
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