Post by Vlad the Impaler on Apr 13, 2016 13:01:47 GMT
Vlad, as a man, had never backed away from fights; even when he knew how it’d cost him to match his words with his actions, he never allowed bait to go unbitten upon - Maybe this was why he had died so young. Even here and now, born in this false Grail War as a foul imitation of his true elegance and beauty, he could not simply let foul comments lie unchallenged.
Said foul comments were dropped by the warlord (or perhaps war-lady) of Skye, Lady Queen Aoife. A woman beautiful enough that Vlad could not help but feel some base stirring in his heart upon looking at her visage, she truly was Vlad’s peer; a demon in an angel’s body. Her forked tongue stung all those around her who did not bow before her, and unfortunately that had come to include Vlad.
Their conversation had been brief, but tumultuous. For no greater crime than having a conversation within earshot, the damnable woman had named him an enemy. He had no such desire to claim her a foe, but if that was her will? He would answer blow for blow.
Crafted within the last decade by a team of magi, among them Brian Turing (a man still employed as Chaldea’s master), the machine was a marvel of human ingenuity. Within it, worlds without measure could be crafted to meet whatever need was held by Chaldea’s servants.
This, Vlad decided, was the perfect field for a battle against this Warrior Queen.
“You know, Lady Aoife,” the grey-haired male said, his sharpened fangs physically visible within his mouth as he spoke, glinting white in a way that accentuated his demonic body. “, I have no desire to mar your fairness - If you apologize for your transgressions and kneel before me, I may deem you worthy of forgiveness.”
He knew she never would, she was a woman as prideful as he was, and a woman who marvelled in shedding blood. This was, after all, the woman who had gone to war against a god-slayer simply out of fraternal rivalry. He’d be shocked indeed if she could swallow her pride and take the blow. He knew that, given such an offer, he certainly wouldn't.
”But since we both know you won’t, why don’t I let you choose our field? After all, I’d hate for you to blame your loss on something as paltry as our surroundings.” Even should she choose somewhere during the day, a false sun couldn’t burn his skin like the real one did... He hoped.
Said foul comments were dropped by the warlord (or perhaps war-lady) of Skye, Lady Queen Aoife. A woman beautiful enough that Vlad could not help but feel some base stirring in his heart upon looking at her visage, she truly was Vlad’s peer; a demon in an angel’s body. Her forked tongue stung all those around her who did not bow before her, and unfortunately that had come to include Vlad.
Their conversation had been brief, but tumultuous. For no greater crime than having a conversation within earshot, the damnable woman had named him an enemy. He had no such desire to claim her a foe, but if that was her will? He would answer blow for blow.
----
Many of the machines in Chaldea drew the envy of the outside world - TRIGESTIMUS, a machine that could mine the throne of heroes for hero after hero where normally but seven could be summoned simultaneously; The Chronosphere, Chaldea’s machine that allowed pseudo-tempokinesis, a machine that made their very mission possible in the first place. Yet, among these, few looked at the VRC - The Virtual Reality Chamber. Crafted within the last decade by a team of magi, among them Brian Turing (a man still employed as Chaldea’s master), the machine was a marvel of human ingenuity. Within it, worlds without measure could be crafted to meet whatever need was held by Chaldea’s servants.
This, Vlad decided, was the perfect field for a battle against this Warrior Queen.
“You know, Lady Aoife,” the grey-haired male said, his sharpened fangs physically visible within his mouth as he spoke, glinting white in a way that accentuated his demonic body. “, I have no desire to mar your fairness - If you apologize for your transgressions and kneel before me, I may deem you worthy of forgiveness.”
He knew she never would, she was a woman as prideful as he was, and a woman who marvelled in shedding blood. This was, after all, the woman who had gone to war against a god-slayer simply out of fraternal rivalry. He’d be shocked indeed if she could swallow her pride and take the blow. He knew that, given such an offer, he certainly wouldn't.
”But since we both know you won’t, why don’t I let you choose our field? After all, I’d hate for you to blame your loss on something as paltry as our surroundings.” Even should she choose somewhere during the day, a false sun couldn’t burn his skin like the real one did... He hoped.
