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Post by Gareth on Mar 13, 2016 17:17:26 GMT
In a world as alien as this, where culture, time and purpose itself bend outward into mockeries of what he'd known in life, the brain of the young knight sought naught but familiarity. And fortunately, through the thousand years he'd been dead, snow and the cold that it brought in its wake continued the same.
Thus sat a good one hundred meters away from the door Sir Gareth, the forgettable legend, the footnote, one whose exploits paled to a color much like the ground that crumbled beneath his feet, his brain lost in reflections so deep the skin-crawling chill that crept up the blackened mail was easily pushed to the caverns of his mind. The summoning had gone swimmingly, they said, although it seemed like they were expecting someone else to step out of their accursed machine, the beeping lights and sighs of disappointment and confusion being the first stimuli to welcome him to life once more. Even now, hours after the fact, the phantom pain from the wound Lancelot had left on his stomach remained, even if his health had been restored in full.
Ah, Lancelot. His feelings towards his once idol and mentor grew more confused by the second. For who could blame a man to defend his love, specially a damned French-borne, at that? At the time of his passing, Gareth bore no ill towards him, directing his curses at fate itself. Yet the passing glances at that accursed throne had been close and many throughout the eons of being deceased, showing him what his and Gaheris' death had culminated, the cause and effect of the Kingdom fell by its own King's folly. To think he admired Arthur, once. Silently, he wondered if these halls harbored his King once more, so that he may answer for his crime. So that they all could.
So there, on the edge of a snow-covered hill, sat the slayer of Perarde, Black Knight of the Black Lands, adorned in his armor top to bottom as earnest sighs were released to the great expanse below. The chill airs of Rus were alien and familiar, reminding him of his travels in the land of the bearded kingdoms, men of iron and fire that once threatened Albion. Fond memories of violent times, mayhaps all too alien in these times of peace.
Removing, of course, the whole perils of the planet detail.
And so, lost in thought in regret, sat Sir Gareth of Orkney. What was there to do, but await purpose in this opportunity to live once more? What mattered, if his name found itself scribbled as mere detail to the so brilliantly named Arthurian legends?
A sigh escaped the young man's lips, the cold condensing it into a puff of white smoke.
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Post by Gilles on Mar 13, 2016 18:36:34 GMT
The freezing winds chipped away at his skin as he stared out among the barren frozen wastes below. While most others might flee from the intense cold the man once known as the Holy Knight Gilles de Rais was unshaken. His mind was like a swamp of chaos and justice and he treasured the time to reflect.
It was true that he had been only recently summoned, perhaps his summoners were dismayed at summoning an 'average' Servant like himself but that mattered little to him. All that he cared about was that he was alive again, along with all the sins and regrets that he had once committed.
Was it God's will that he should be given a second chance to right such horrid wrongs? He did not know, but for now perhaps it was best to spend a moment in contemplation.
However such a moment was quick to end, his head pulsed in anger and frustration at his past and his failure to control himself. Perhaps his frustration was warranted but regardless he had to let off steam. In a flash of frustration he let out a howl.
"JEANNE!!!!!!!!"
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Post by King Atlas on Mar 13, 2016 23:21:02 GMT
Sometimes he wished he had the capabilities of an Assassin. Mainly because he knew that showing up out here, even if he hid off in the distance, probably wouldn't go unnoticed. Not that it mattered, he guessed. What were they going to do, be weird at him? There was a Shining Shouter and a Black Brooder, he noticed that much. Granted, neither of them seemed particularly impressive, they didn't seem all that heroic, legendary, or even good looking. That being said, the Shining Shouter was screaming a name that seemed familiar. Going by the armor, could he have meant the Counter Guardian? She hadn't been summoned, had she? Images flashed through his mind, of a pitched battle in a burning city. There'd been several of them, but three attacked him directly. Considering two of them had already been encountered, he'd long learned that they were both stronger that day than they had any right to be. In truth, he felt that if there were to be a "rematch" of sorts, the outcome would be so hilariously one-sided that he'd almost find it possible to believe that they were the reason he died. When he put it that way, it almost sounded goddamn depressing. Because really, accusations of cheating just seemed like poor sportsmanship, and the more he thought about it, they were a pack of fucking cheaters. But there were two, and if the third had already been summoned. Well, she was easy on the eyes, hostility notwithstanding. Maybe if she had been summoned, he'd pay a visit and potentially try to smooth things over. Still, taking another look at the two, he should maybe leave. Really, he'd come out here anyway to try and clear a trail up the mountain. If he was going to whip everyone into shape then he needed a good place to train them! That still didn't stop him from just looking at the two of them again as they angsted over... something. He really didn't know what at this point. What is wrong with these people? So for that, Atlas started inching away from the Shining Shouter and the Black Brooder. They could go... form their own Angst Alliance and fight crime or something. tags: Gareth , Gilles notes: should be a comic book
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Post by Gareth on Mar 13, 2016 23:40:53 GMT
His ever-so-targeted concentration had been shattered by the sudden ravings of a lunatic behind him, the glare of his shining armor against the sun-reflecting snow temporarily blinding Gareth, who'd be very worried about falling downhill if not for the fact that, apparently, bringing him back from the dead isn't that much of an issue anymore. With him stood a blond man dressed as a waiter, which only seemed to confuse matters further. Only the most eccentric of kings had servants outside of their realm, and as far as Gareth understood this era, monarchs were far and few between and didn't quite function that way anymore, plus Chaldea functioned as what they called a 'Company', some sort of Merchant's Guild with an hierarchical system.
Truly, these were odd times to be called forth on.
"For what reason do you disturb my silence, Ser Knight?" His voice struggled against the loud wind, words reaching their ears several decibels lower than intended. "And I suggest you bring your servant inside, for he is not dressed for the perils of Rus. I do not recall mortality to have been so easily transcended past those of myth and history like you and I."
Truly, there was a hint of delusion in his eyes. Mayhaps not madness, but the shining knight, whose features jolted memories of Lancelot back in his brain, seemed to be deeply affected by something.
"Perhaps you are as new to this time as I?"
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Post by Gilles on Mar 14, 2016 3:11:31 GMT
Maybe he had been far too distracted by his own musings but Gilles was surprised to see others in the vicinity. What's more it appeared that one of them had mistaken the other for his own Servant. Which was of course not true.
"My dear sir, I believe you are most mistaken, I know who this man is though why is is dressed accordingly is also unknown to me. But alas, he does not seem all that uncomfortable in such attire even out among the freezing landscape such this. Perhaps that is because he too is also a Servant like myself? And to answer your second inquiry, yes and no. While this is the first time I have been in this world as myself, this is not in fact the first time I have been here."
Glancing downwards towards a small brown leather book attached to his belt that also had some rather disturbing drawing etched across its binding a dark expression glanced across his face.
"Though I would much prefer if such things were left to be forgotten in time's deep abyss. Nevertheless, if I have disturbed you then I must offer my many apologies, I had just recently returned and only wished to vent a few frustrations that had been mounting over the years."
Erasing all the darkness that had hidden itself in his eyes he dawned a fresh smile and gave forth a humble bow.
"Allow my to introduce myself, as customary of any Grail War no matter the situation you may call me Saber. And who might you be?"
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Post by King Atlas on Mar 14, 2016 4:24:36 GMT
Wait. Did he really just get called a servant of the Shining Shouter? Not even a Servant with a capital S, but a servant, like a manslave or something. Atlas stopped trying to get away from these weirdos. The King of Legends would not be demeaned to be some... some... indebted peasant! Especially not to this weirdass shouting guy. Shoving a hand into his pocket, it wasn't even a second before a rock was formed in his other hand, and then thrown at full velocity at the Black Brooder's skull. The King of Atlantis was not going to allow himself to be considered a servant of someone as weird as that guy. But, before he could begin a follow up assault, forming another rock, Atlas stopped short at the Shining Shouter's words. He apparently recognized him, but didn't understand why he wore the attire? "You know who I am?" He asked in a perplexed manner. "That's a first." Most people didn't recognize him, or they didn't care. Which, fine by him, because then people never nagged him about anything. But if this man knew him, and was screaming a name that Atlas knew belonged to someone else... well... the cogs began to turn in the King of Legends' head, a mischievous plan was being formulated. It required just one thing. Well, maybe not. Atlas was a smart man. No matter how things turned, he could always work with it. "Speaking of recognition, this girl you're screaming about, blonde hair, deep blue eyes, purple clothes?" Oh yes, if this was the same Jeanne that Atlas had "met" on the night of Atlantis's downfall, then this would be a very interesting opportunity. It was also a chance to make some moves in his own ambitions, and maybe just do something in the name of fun. tags: Gareth , Gilles notes: gareth is rude
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Post by Gareth on Mar 14, 2016 14:06:14 GMT
Gareth expressed surprise at the man's own sense of knighthood and politeness after such a relentless shout, having thought his sanity long slipped by the cracks to emit a sound such as that one. Encompassed in bewilderment or otherwise, his manners rose to the task as the Black Brooder lifted himself from his seat, darkened plate clanking against snow and stone as his body stood upright to greet the other men properly.
"It is of no issue - I understand one's circumstances can be somewhat complicated depending on the period they've been summoned from and their own identity, and even someone so utterly lost in self-loathing as I can comprehend my own story might not be the worst, or the one to afflict me the most badly. By all means, forgive my own snap judgment." Gareth lowered his head in a symbolic gesture, laying a hand atop his heart. "However -"
Emerald eyes looked up, in curiosity with the man's statement. The Holy Grail Wars were explained to him as the focus of their mission, yet it was not to his knowledge their conventions, at least not to this degree. Oh, it only made sense they'd introduce each other by Class in an event chained to a limit of one per each, yet such ruling bore no fruit in a medium such as this, for many shared classes and others seemed to share more than one, if information was to be precise.
"- we won't come long before yet another Saber appears, and one after that. In such convention, I am Rider - a name I share out of respect for your own choice of introduction, should you desire to keep to such a tradition - but in man's own tongue," He bowed, a solemn view amidst the harsh snowfall. "I am Sir Gareth of Orkney, Knight of the Round Table, son of Lot and Morgause, brother to Sir Gawain of Lothian, grandson to King Uther Pendragon and -" Some distaste showed in his voice. "- nephew to King Arthur Pendragon."
His gaze then slightly slipped to the side as he awaited a reply from the man in shining armor, reminiscing his earlier comment about the blond man at his side. For even with the knowledge of the Throne, Gareth could not think of any Servant who would dress in such a manner, one apparently reserved for employees of a tavern and its equivalents in this modern era. For what reason would a Heroic Spirit choose such an atti-
"Ah!"
A stone hit square at his forehead, earning a grunt from the Black Knight. A hand of his instinctively reached at his back, the faint traces of darkened prana behind him hinting at the materialization of a weapon being half-concretized. "For what reason do you attack, fellow Servant?" His youthful brain grasped for theories, easily finding the one most accessible from the vast arsenal of possibilities. "Were it not clear my confusion resulted from your odd attire? Blame thy sense of taste, before unsheathing your weapons!"
It seemed neither had the actual desire to fight, yet the knight found himself distressed a Spirit could engage in such childish hostilities so easily. Then again, he silently cursed himself for his rash judgment, reminding himself he once fought a man over his insults over wearing a kitchen page's attire.
And then he stole his armor.
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Post by Gilles on Mar 14, 2016 22:18:15 GMT
The mention of King Arthur caused him to wince slightly as a slew of unpleasant memories crossed his mind but it was the first man's comments that sent him into a furious rant.
"You know the Great Jeanne of Arc!!?? But I fear that I do not recognize your face, and as her right hand I knew of all that had met her. Then, this means you have met her outside of her time!? Is this TRUE!?"
Ignoring the other man's pain from being hit by a rock the shouting shiner as he was called grabbed the shoulder's of the Servant who had mentioned her appearance and began to shout directly into his face without a concern for meaningless things like 'personal boundaries'.
His eyes were beginning to bulge as blood pulsed through them at an alarming rate, but his rant was only beginning.
"WHERE!? TELL ME WHERE DID YOU SEE HER? WAS IT HERE!? IS THOUST HOLIEST OF MAIDENS ALIVE!? ANSWER ME NOW I MUST KNOW! IF WHAT HAS BEEN SAID IS TRUE THEN PERHAPS IT IS NOT YET TOO LATE. I MUST CORRECT THE WRONGS OF THE PAST, BUT FIRST I MUST KNOW! PLEASE I BEG OF YOU TELL ME WHERE DID YOU LAST SEE HER? IS SHE WELL? IS THE AURA AROUND HER VERY BEING STILL HOLY AND AS STRONG AS THE BURNING SUN IN THE MIDST OF A SUMMER HEAT? COME SIR SERVANT SPEAKETH IF YOU MUST BUT TELL ME I MUST KNOW!"
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Post by King Atlas on Mar 15, 2016 0:06:15 GMT
He regretted this immediately. Seriously, what the fuck. He expected some kind of reaction but nothing quite to the level that he was looking at right now. Atlas took a moment to shoot a look at the Black Brooder, ignoring literally everything he said, almost as if to check as to whether the Black Brooder had also seen this, to make sure Atlas wasn't just imagining this. "... Yes, I met her outside of time." Oh sure, he had expected him to react, maybe even get him jealous. But by the beard of Poseidon he never even considered that he would get something like this. But hey! At least he can work with it! He didn't like the touching. He'd get some space afterwards but goddamn, why was the Shining Shouter being such a creeper? And the strength of his grip too. He was pretty sure it would hurt if Atlas didn't have the rank of Endurance that he did. Blinking slowly, as if needing to think for a moment, he spoke. "She was one of the Counter Guardians summoned to Atlantis on the night I was killed. Like you, I wish to make amends. And I think she still is holy? She was using high level holy arts during the incident." Really, he wasn't sure what the hell Jeanne d'Arc was doing but it wouldn't be that much of a stretch to assume she had holy things. Reaching out with his hand, he attempted to press it against the Shining Shouter's face to get some distance. He had no worry about being overpowered, but still. "To my knowledge though, she has not been summoned here yet. Two of her dreadful companions have, however." If this guy was so goddamn psychotic, then sure. "They were rather boorish, from what I saw. One kept trying to use horrid and vulgar pick up lines." Atlas spoke. He'd redirect the Shining Shouter to the man in red later. But the other one, that one at least had a somewhat famous name to attach to the identity, plus if this man knew Jeanne, then there was a potential irritant that he might use. "The other one, Robert Loxley, an Englishman, tried to grope her several times during her duty." Total bullshit, but whatever. "If you like, I can tell you what they look like." tags: Gareth , Gilles notes: way more than he can chew
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Post by Gilles on Mar 15, 2016 4:03:13 GMT
'Grope? Grope!? GROPE? ?' To have his holy maiden shamed by such a barbaric act was a disgrace to all of God's living creations. He wouldn't stand for this rancid behavior, and to make matters worse it was an Englishman no less. Or perhaps that was to be expected, it was all the English were good for, ravaging the countryside and polluting the pure and righteous, he would not stand for this debauchery. He would find this man, and make him pay. Ignoring the attempt to be pushed aside Gilles instead pushed himself even closer, the bulging in his head had become far more severe, it was almost as if his insect-like eyes were about to pop out of his own skull. "Where. TELL ME WHERE HE IS. NOW..."
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