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Post by Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillenia on Apr 17, 2016 1:23:36 GMT
It was a complete mess, as she’d been expecting. Shouting, singing, screaming and bickering with a side portion of utter nonsense from all involved. It was inevitable with the personalities of Servants and magi involved, but even then this was a bigger mess than she’d been expecting. Though, honestly, she’d been hoping they’d have slimmed the candidates to those who’d been in missions or something like that rather than just chuck everyone in one room and hope for democracy to take its course. Democracy with people like this… it wasn’t an agreement, it was just a popularity contest. Thank goodness the title was little more than just a title… otherwise this would be real headache for her.
Sitting among the actual representatives of Chaldea involved in the field program, Celenike watched the disaster play out with a pained grimace – damn, why’d she get dragged into this job? Sure, it fit her and her work; but dealing with all this was hardly worth it. She should have been in her lab rather than wasting time here… but, no, she had to focus on the long-term goal… cutting up one of those Servants had to be worth all this trouble. Maybe she could use this as further evidence that it’d be more productive than having them fool around like this.
But, it wasn’t all rain and no silver lining – that pink-haired hero was as delectable as ever; and the charming little Achilles was trying to carry as much bluster and bravado as ever… though, that outfit was miserable. At least she could take pride in the fact that her fashion sense still lorded over all these so-called ‘heroes’, no matter how fancy they thought they were. Atlas proved entertaining as usual amongst all these self-centred icons with his show of self-destruction… ah, she even got a shout-out! ‘Whatever made Master Celenike the way she is’, huh? She almost wanted to vote for him just for that. No, for now, he’d be added to her list of likely ‘volunteers’ for her ‘Servant rehabilitation’ program, instead. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and with the other person strapped helplessly to a table…
Her smirk over such a thought was short-lived, though. While there was a moment of intelligence amongst the crowd courtesy of the more composed Masters of the organisation, it soon passed as a certain dragon-lady and witch spoke up in turn… she was almost considering seconding one of the group’s nominations for a moment until she heard that mess. No, she probably shouldn’t bother with this crowd; and the voting would do her job for her anyway. Instead… something more of note. ”Do they realise there’s more work for whoever is voted in…? It’s not merely a privilege…” murmured the magus, before taking an early leave of the crowd – she could feel her stress building from just seeing those awful spirits all together.
She needed some relief early… especially if there was going to be more to this disaster of a plan. Tempting specimens were in short supply at the moment, but… she could always improvise.
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Post by Gareth on Apr 18, 2016 12:53:06 GMT
Gareth had been sat in the corner for quite a while now, hidden in plain sight due to his Presence Concealment E. When explained the Skill originally by Chaldea's personnel as his documents had been put together, the knight nearly grit his teeth into fine powder in annoyance. His very obscurity, the lack of importance of his presence near his peers, crystallized into a Skill. Unbelievable. But enough whining about in his own thoughts - after much reflection, Gareth had reached a decision, and was thus silently glad about that Skill right about now since it allowed him time to think without Atlas or Morgan firing something at him.
Gingerly climbing onto the stage, the forever nineteen year old Gareth of Orkney stared around at his many peers, from the eccentric to the.... well, there's not goddamn normal people in here, but there's less eccentric. Nobody seems to throw glances his way, and thus Gareth concludes attracting their attention is in order. Maybe - lightly tapping the microphone -
Tap
Tap
Screech
Shit, that was... loud. Ow. His ears.
"Hm, hello?" Yes, hello, now that everyone in the goddamn room is looking at him. From kings to heroes to generals to villains, eyes fixated on the usually black-armored knight, save for the few whose lack of sanity and/or inflated ego caused them to be incapable from shifting their attention to literally anything else. Cough, cough, probably Astolfo. "First of all, I just want to point out Ms. Ciel's suggestion that we split the position into one Master and one Servant. Given the... dispositions of some of us, I believe such a non-centralized system can best represent both the interests of Servants and Masters, and prevents any kind of tyranny from being exercised by the elected."
Now that's out of the way...
"That being said, I wish to nominate myself, Sir Gareth of Orkney, Rider, for the position." The boy slowly turned beet red, scratching the back of his head as his feet awkwardly shuffled, movement eased by the fact for once he's using casual, modern clothes, making his nomination stand out even more given he doesn't even look like a Servant to those who don't know him. "Now, now, I know that is quite bold of me -"
Emerald gaze shifted between those most arrogant, Kings and Queens and Emperors.
"- but hear me out, for a second. We're full of Monarchs and Generals and great Leaders in here. Surely, if one of them assumed a position of power over the other, someone would take offense to that - not to mention the several people who have... interpersonal issues in here." He throws a sideways glance at Atlas and Robin, leaving the implication clear as day. "But all I ever ruled over was a small group of knights, my Order of Rainbow, with no formal authority but bonds of companionship. Since I only have experience leading from such a position of mutual respect rather than superiority, I believe should I take the role, I could do it justice without... stirring up any unnecessary trouble, and I promise that no personal opinions would get in the way of decision making."
Now he looks at Miss Celenike, who would be probably most interested in diminishing repair costs.
Well, that's his message. Whether they'd understand the meaning behind it or simply consider that to mean he'd be a pushover - which he might, in a possibility Gareth himself doesn't consider - is left up to the voters, although maybe the possibility of a Head Officer who pretty much all of them can fling about is probably tempting to some.
"Thanks for your attention."
Gareth removes himself with a hop, off to hide himself in the corner again.
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Post by Brynhild on Apr 19, 2016 17:39:18 GMT
It was one of those times that Brynhild was absolutely certain of her actions. She knew what she had to do, she knew who she had to appraise and let shine in the brilliant shower of everpresent respect and dignity. It was Mordred, the one who she had vowed to be with until her second death. Or whichever time of death this actually would be, considering the Grail Wars she had participated in. Even so, it did not matter, for Mordred would be king and that was good. So without further ado or delay, Brynhild fixed her clothing, flattening the hem of her skirt, while making sure her hair flowed elegantly rather than vividly, before making her way to the small podest.
Coughing lightly to get the audiance's attention, Brynhild disregarded the nature of microphones... causing a shrill sound to reverberate through the entire hall, its screeching agony booring into the eardrums of those listening to her. Stiffling a surprised laugh, and hiding her shock behind fingers lifted to her mouth, Brynhild then softly, chimingly spoke into the microphone:"I am terribly sorry..." then she smiled at the audiance again, letting her valkyrie pheromones flood the room freely. It was in a good wife's nature to make some sacrifice for her beloved and she fully intended on following this cliché.
"A-As you all know, there have been many kings, rulers, emperors and warlords within Chaldea, ever since it started to engage in the summoning of spirits." Letting the words sink in a little, Brynhild made a short pause, the silvery tune of her words still sounding, before she continued:"Yet among these... how many would you truly trust with a throne? You all have seen them rule, you all have seen what monstrosities could arise from a single human's overambitious plans, or what self-destructive urges could come with it. None of your present rulers, trust the other to rule, because each one of you thinks that their rule was the best, the proper one... with few exceptions I presume." A sideglance at a blonde, tall servant was in order.
"Yet have you ever considered appointing a person that contains all the potential, all the charisma and nobility a king -should- have, yet has never actually committed mistakes as an actual ruler? I am not going to say that the person in question never made a mistake... dear, I would be lying to say that every decision he makes is entirely moral, including those made in our privat times. But even so, the effort and the passion with which Prince Mordred Pendragon, the heir to King Arthur Pendragon invested into living up to his father... long surpassed whatever the latter could have reached. He brought people happiness, in the short time he actually managed to slip into the role meant for him from the beginning. He made them happy, gave them what they wanted... yet still grasped what it was he himself desired with an iron hand, a powerful grip that would have crushed all but those who would stand in the way of the happyness of the country. One might question the motives or the inspirations, yet I can assure you, Mordred is no knight of treachery, no haughty rebel merely after his father's blood... he is the noblest of knights, the fiercest of fighters, the most understanding, yet most resolute of kings, the most passionate lover and the most intense flame to ever burn within the confines of Chaldea!" Pausing once more a sad, yet ultimately admiring smile brushed past Brynhild's features as her hand slowly moved to her heart, as if trying to grasp it.
"He allows those with shattered hopes, to find a silver ray of hope in their personal abyss... he can rekindle flames where one would think naught but ashes... and so he too made a broken doll into something almost human once again. Mordred is love... for he begets it with his every breath and Mordred is life... for he can make even those unworthy to live into humans... humans, gods or even greater, simply by showering them in his benign presence. I ask you all to think about how many of you managed to truly accomplish happiness for those beneath you... how many of you truly still hold dreams that do not relate to the past, but to a possible future. And I ask you to consider that this Mordred Pendragon, not only as a nominee, but as an actual head-agent... could lead us all to the fates that have been denied to us so often, in cycles unending... with every turn of the wheel of grail stained Fates. So... please let us stay the night and enjoy an apocrypha of silver fragments of hope, that shall one day bring this hollow spiral to a prototype of zero doubts, which we can all call our last, grand order."
With this Brynhild ended her speech bowed slightly, before raising her head once again, her silver hair catching and reflecting the moonlight as her presence outshone the artificial lights with no difficulty at all. The woman of the night, the phantasmal existence that was to reflect the end of heroes smiles at them, with sorrow turned into laughter and pain turned into hope... and with this shattered, yet reignited expression of hope for a promised future she whispered softly, yet audible for everyone, down to their bowels, which the whisper shook and stirred:"So I ask you all... vote for Mordred, the Happiness of a Future." with that she entirely ended her presentation and retreated to her seat, her pheromones stimulating all the people inside with wild abandon.
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Post by King Atlas on Apr 19, 2016 18:18:37 GMT
As the nominations continued, Atlas began to realize that this was really a damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario. Most of the nominations were batfuck insane in some way, shape or form. Except for Master Rin. Rin was totally someone he would be okay with being in charge. And then the insane valkyrie started talking, and she started looking more insanely hot than just insa-- Goddammit it was that fucking hormonal shit, wasn't it? Great, now within moments this place was going to be devolving into an orgy. Everyone in here would be... Huh, that could work. Still, insane Valkyrie suddenly becoming an insanely hot valkyrie, but still completely fucking insane, notwithstanding, Atlas wasn't so far gone that he could be a gibbering wreck. When the man saw an opportunity, he wasn't one to waste it. Instead just shouting above the crowd. "Why would I, or anyone for that matter, vote for Mordred when Mordred has such a flat ass?" He just needed a response. That alone would constitute a victory for him. It'd also completely further sabotage any hope he had of actually winning this thing, and that was totally okay for him too! And with that, he finished his piece and went to stand by Master Rin. And he waited. tags: Brynhild notes: even when being lovedrugged, atlas will always be horrible
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Post by muramasa on Apr 25, 2016 15:29:35 GMT
Well, this had taken a turn for the interestingly worst. The one they all wanted to have suddenly seemed to tuck his tail between his legs and make off without being elected, running away from the work. Muramasa naturally disagreed with all of them, democracy was a far cry from the anarchic world he would love to see and having anyone be stronger than the next was the actual factual means of asserting dominance. And then Muramasa would eff them all over by handing better weapons to the weak and turning the rules on their head again. Eternal war for all. Death and destruction just a side product of balancing and counter balancing. But since he had made his way here, he felt he might as well throw in his two cent as well.
Not that he would vote on anyone´s quality as a ruler or leader. That was pure bullshit, what he had in mind was more that if they would be their boss, they should at least look good while doing that. And since only few in the room actually fulfilled that criteria and only one of them had a fun and interesting way of partying. His vote was already clear. The one who managed to burn down that city. Rome. Someone like that would definitely be able to provide them with entertainment, one way or another. As for the weird smell that lancer girl was suddenly emitting, he swatted at it, unaffected by such minor bother. Retrieving the microphone from it´s place, he stood on the stage and looked down at all those mostly high born, who had lead their whole lives and his opinion of what should happen to those was easy to see on his face.
But for now, his face relaxed a little as he started speaking. Putting more and more enthusiasm into it, having an about idea what that smell was supposed to do. Arousal and lowering of inhibitions. "Alright, so I ask of all you heroes, future heroes, friends, companions and allies for the time being, 'What would be the best fitting person for this honor be?' Is it not to be a flagship we can proudly present to the world as a leader, a beautiful flower we can point at and say that they are really the best suited to be our mascot? The one who can do what so few can?" Well, it was really only the role of a macot more of less, if it was just about power, it would most likely go directly to the so disturbingly provacative person, who seemed to absolutely want to get out of it.
The only one here who could most likely force others to take his point of view. not Muramasa naturally, but the others at least. And yet, he had added the little bit about the egostroking thing only few could do, look pretty while working and being a face one could remember. And so, in a wide swinging arc, he moved his free hand toward the woman clad in crimson. "Therefore, is it not true, that she meets all these criteria? If any of her stories are true, she was a generous and fun imperator, who knew how to do battle as well as how to hold banquets and knows the finer arts like few others? Therefore I agree to the self nomination and add to it. My vote will go to the beautiful lady in red. Applause." Bowing, he dropped the mic on the floor and exited left off the stage to stand alone against a wall again. Well, he had done his part, now to wait what this would devolve into and how much the plan of the white haired girl could backfire to get her beloved mordred on the highest rank by enticing them all. Crossing his arms, he let his eyes wander over the faces and nodded to those he knew if they should look over.
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