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Thread: Fate/Reclamation (IC)

  1. #341
    焼け尽きた感情も Reiu's Avatar
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    Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
    15th of December, 2004
    Night (Phase 1-3)
    Lee Valley Park


    The girl’s laughter startled him, and yet was not entirely unexpected.

    Metaphysical. Philosophical.

    …Perhaps. Once upon a time…perhaps, he too would have thought as much, as nonetheless close to his heart the beliefs that lay behind the question were.

    He glanced at the makeshift grave of the unknown stranger, already seeming to have passed also from the minds of the majority of those present here.

    He had to know what was, fundamentally, missing. His own life was the proof of that; for had it been there, he would not be standing here, now. And that man—



    …Something, from this world that he had so believed in, had been lost all this time. Something that perhaps never existed.


    He must know what that was.
    Everything else would fall into place from there.


    For that, he needed the Holy Grail—to confirm with his own eyes.


    Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;


    He could not simply observe. Not after what had happened, not after what he had done.


    Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.


    No,
    A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.


    What lay before him, was to determine——

    Only with thine eyes, shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.








    ……The words, when they came, transpired in scarce a whisper.


    “——Who is this ‘us’ whom you speak of?”


    Us. In all likelihood, that was the coalition of magi, white against blue. He knew that already, in a manner of speaking.
    …That was not what he asked of now.


    “Who…are you…?”


    He recalled the snatches of her voice that he had briefly caught before his short departure and return, as he found himself almost faltering before those calm, bright, yet somehow inscrutable red eyes.



    “Ilya——……?”

    Last edited by Reiu; September 3rd, 2018 at 04:17 AM.


  2. #342
    闇色の六王権 The Dark Six Mellon's Avatar
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    Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
    15th of December, 2004
    Night (Phase 1-3)
    Lee Valley Park

    “Who…are you…?”

    “Ilya——……?”
    Despite the sounds of the furious battle taking place behind you, you could make out her silvery giggle with perfect clarity. A slightly mischevious twinkle flickered in her eyes, but her small hand still remained extended towards Arwyn.

    “That is a silly question, Mister. I suppose I could give you the formal introduction... but I think you already have some general idea of what I am talking about, no?”

    “Besides, that is not what you are really asking about, isn’t it?”

    “But… boooo~!”

    Ilya’s finger went to her eyelid and she stuck out her tongue at you in a supremely childlike gesture, something seemingly completely out of character to her previously serious words and the somber atmosphere that been there moments before.

    “A girl has to keep her mystique! Its the lifeblood of every young lady!”

    A brief silence.



    “Ilya is Ilya. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  3. #343
    Roleplay PTSD Verg Avesta's Avatar
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    Freogan Deofolgeat
    16th of December, 2004
    Night (Phase 1-3)

    Finding himself suddenly locked into a contest of stares with Lancer, a blush crept onto Freogan's face until he was forced to turn his gaze away. While he might have been able to get back to his element while cooking and drinking, it seemed that being surrounded by three ladies did take its toll on the emotive man after all.

    However, as Lancer's words echoed those of her Master, bringing a certain sense of diplomacy to what had been a rather ridiculous demand to begin with, the expression on Freogan's face began to change. The blush receded, his brow knitted together and his mouth turned into a thin line. Without saying a word the blonde man took another bottle of stout from the cabinet, opened it with his bare hands and took a swig that emptied half of the bottle in one go. After that, his hands reached for his jacket where he procured a cigarette that he proceeded to light. Soon enough a pinprick of light, like an eye of embers on his face, shone in the dimly-lit pub, with smoke rising towards the ceiling.

    And the silence following Lancer's words was filled with the clinking of Freogan's zippo-lighter - a sound that Berserker had heard once before.

    The night-sky outside the window threw its harsh shadow over Freogan when, after a moment of thinking, he finally started speaking. Worryingly enough, some of that joviality had disappeared from his tone.

    "What sorta bellend goes to war to make friends? The moment this bloody thing started I knew I'd have to do what I'd have to do to survive," Freogan spoke rather harshly. "I ain't got no insipid little daydreams about getting along with all twits from here to Bristol. I mean, I might fancy a fag and a chat once or twice even with my worst enemy, but that don't mean we're gonna avoid duking it out in the end. It's just... I might have to fight you, but that don't mean I got to hate you. You ain't done wrong by me, so why should I? Don't know if that makes sense, but that's how I feel."

    Freogan proceeded to take a drag out of his cigarette, satisfied that he had cleared up Lancer's misunderstanding. It was becoming clearer that while the man had been very friendly to the two of them, his supposed enemies, that had nothing to do with his willingness to fight. It was a rather archaic, almost barbaric way of thinking... yet at the same time, it fit him rather well. Do not blame your enemies, blame the circumstances that brought forth this battle... a philosophy of a warrior that rarely appeared in these modern times.

    "And I get you, Sweatpants, I do. Magi are a right bunch of nobs who'd rather sell their mother than give up their secrets. I know that bloody well. Every morning I wake up is a morning I'm surprised I don't got a knife stuck between my ribs," Freogan continued. "So when you say you want none of that, I want to believe you. Of course, with that posh attitude of yours I can't help but to wonder... when the time came, would we be part of that 'rabble' you'll be standing above?"

    The stern glare of Freogan moved from Lancer to Mitsuno, boring a figurative hole through her.

    "I mean, you wankers say you're offering us green grass and high tides, that we'd be bloody morons for not throwing in with you lot..." Freogan took another drag, and this time the smoke he blew out framed his face. "... And meanwhile, one of you gives us the most insulting fake name possible."

    The atmosphere of the pub changed ever-so-slightly.

    "Trust is a two-way street, loves. And that road is a dead-end if one side can't even give us her real name."

  4. #344
    焼け尽きた感情も Reiu's Avatar
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    Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
    15th of December, 2004
    Night (Phase 1-3)
    Lee Valley Park

    To fill the Cup of Heaven with the shattered dreams of others is the only way that t
    he nature of that particular truth will be revealed to you.
    The answer you seek…. Can you truly find it on your own? No.
    Do you want to find it on your own?
    After all, that is without a doubt, the path filled with the most bloodshed and tragedy.

    Perhaps that was the case. —No, most likely, it was simply how it was. A foregone conclusion of what lay down that path.

    “……”


    But in the end, more than all of that, it was her final words that decided his answer.

    More than any consideration of his own fears, of what lay before him, of the war. Those, he would ponder later, on his own time.


    “Ilya is Ilya. Nothing more, nothing less.”


    The words rang true; that he had no doubt of. Others might say didn’t tell the whole story of the young Grail War participant before him.

    …Yet, instinctively, he felt that the girl meant those words.
    And that was all there was to it for him.

    His was a nonsensical decision, and even more nonsensical of a request to make in a war like this.


    —Nonetheless, he had made up his mind.


    “I am Arwyn. Arwyn Penrith…but Arwyn is fine.”


    He glanced down at the cup of Darjeeling. In what time had passed, it was already begining to become lukewarm, by now, in the bitter cold of this winter night.

    He finished it, and set it down.


    “…if it would be okay with you…”


    When he spoke again, it was in a different tone, from how he had spoken. Honest, hesitant, unadorned words, and yet—with clear will, and perhaps the most genuine to his person any here had heard him speak so far.


    “—I would like to join you, Ilya.”

    “Not the White faction, nor Ilya of the White faction, but ‘Ilya’…and Leys…and Sella.
    And…Saver, of course.”

    He looked at each as he pronounced the names with care, sparing a brief glance at the battle to their side on the last; names gleamed only secondhand from the words she had spoken.

    “…Not one person more, nor any less.”


    Having given his own answer, he extended his own hand towards her outstretched one, just shy of reaching——and awaited hers.
    Last edited by Reiu; September 4th, 2018 at 03:11 PM.


  5. #345
    Assassin of White
    15th of December, 2004
    Royal Opera House
    Night (Phase 1-3)


    Quote Originally Posted by Akechi Tohsaka
    ‘Assassin remember how I said our first order of business of gathering intel and assessing our forces? I’ve changed my mind. Your first order as my servant is destroying this vestibule with no Clocktower survivors.’
    Gladly.

    Throughout the entire exchange, Assassin had been conducting reconnaissance, looking for alternate entrances while keeping an eye on her Master and her Master’s family. It wasn’t her place to interfere with familial bonding nor comment on the discourse between talking heads and their obtuse political maneuvering.

    While hiding among the shadowy corners at the side of the opulent vestibule, Assassin considered her options. She could sense the presence of two-no--three Servants nearby. Their allegiances were undeterminable, that complicated matters somewhat, but Assassin had her mission.

    And to an Assassin, a Hassan, the mission was law.

    Brothers and Sisters, this is for you.

    بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
    قُلْ أَعُوذُ بِرَبِّ الْفَلَقِ
    مِنْ شَرِّ مَا خَلَقَ
    وَمِنْ شَرِّ غَاسِقٍ إِذَا وَقَبَ
    وَمِنْ شَرِّ النَّفَّاثَاتِ فِي الْعُقَدِ
    وَمِنْ شَرِّ حَاسِدٍ إِذَا حَسَدَ





    “ZaBaNiYa”

    The lyrical, song-like chant flowed from Assassin’s tongue like a prayer, pregnant with divine meaning and spiritual content. Yet there seemed to be a malicious tint to the words.

    Instantly a pillar of hellfire erupted from the ground underneath the Vice Director’s feet.

    Assassin’s Master had given an order and Assassin would do everything in her power to make it a reality.

    Wiseup - Assassin

    Parameters

    STR - C
    END - C
    AGI - A
    MGI - E
    LCK - B
    NP - D


    Class Skills
    Presence Concealment - A
    The ability to conceal the Servant's presence granted usually to the Assassin Class.

    A: Hides one's presence as a Servant. Suitable for spying. It is possible to disappear almost completely and reduce one's chances to be detected, even against a Servant's perception. However, efficiency will decrease once preparations to attack are taken.

    Noble Phantasm:

    Zabaniya: Delusional Refuge
    Rank: D
    Cost: 100
    Type: Anti-Unit

    A Zabaniya is a noble phantasm of those that took the name of Hassan-i-Sabbah, a miracle that shows one’s piety and swiftly brings death to its target.

    Delusional Refuge’s true nature is a Divine Ritual that was taught within the Islamic religious community but only the most pious were able to actualize it. The Divine Ritual utilizes passages from the Qur’an for the invocation chant and activates immediately upon completion. The content of the chant can be chosen to suit the needs of the practitioner and thus the length and potency also vary. For the most part, it was generally used to protect the user or heal ailments caused by spiritual influences such as Jinn.

    Assassin’s usage of the Divine Ritual is primarily offensive and is actually closer to a curse. The passage that she chooses to recite is the Al-Falaq “The Dawn”, a short 5 verse sura that calls upon God to protect the reader from external harm. However, Assassin’s intent and thus her interpretation is “May Allah remove/destroy the external force that can cause harm”. As such the Ritual manifests in a curse attack that summons the hellfire of Jahannam to deal damage to both physical and spiritual targets.
    Last edited by arkturus; September 10th, 2018 at 03:53 AM. Reason: Added further description to NP wiseup
    I play hetero every once in awhile
    Spoiler:
    <~Katie> dude who gives a fuck about girls being gay, sometimes girls aren't gay and that decision should be respected
    Spoiler:
    [12:21.40] that might be a top tier post[12:21.45] frantic[12:21.47] post of the month, even[12:21.48] this right here[12:21.49] is MC [12:21.56] johnny has nothing on this dude[12:22.00] he's the MC of the nisio half[12:22.12] so wait[12:22.15] [ ] is, after all, my rival character[12:22.16] am i the gag heroine[12:22.20] yes

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