Berserker
Interacting with: @VanceXentan Lancelot, @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @BubbleGumKing Jonathan O'Connor
’You worry too much, Master. Everything will work out, I’m sure. One way or another, we’re sure to learn something.’
WIth that thought transmitted to her Master, Berserker took a breath, planted her hands on her hips, and watched the wilderness for movement. Her confident mien soon began faltering however, replaced with narrowed eyes and an irksome expression.. Berserker shook her head, noting the presences retreating from mutual perception. “Bah. An honorless bunch, that lot,” she crossed her arms and huffed indignantly, “...Or perhaps simply thrall to their weak-hearted Masters. How unfortunate either way.” She then shrugged and looked back to disguised Servant. “Whatever the case, their absences can’t be helped; it seems we’ll have to make do on our own.”
She waited for him to speak first, before responding herself. “Indeed. I could be Saber,” Berserker puffed her chest out proudly. Among her possible classes, she could be summoned as Rider or Saber, in addition to a particularly strange possible Archer classification. And, obviously, the one she was right now: Berserker. “I have thicker skin than that. Think what you may, but I am what I am,” she nodded, giving a dismissive wave to the knight’s apology. Then, in response to that apology, she said: “Likewise. I had not expected someone in your condition to be the noblest of all the Servants I’d perceived, but I will not question whatever strange enchantment attaches you to a mortal guise.” She pointed to the man. “I will give you a free tidbit for being such a courtly Servant however: I am not Saber, as you had guessed. Unfortunately, even that is stretching the limit of my Master’s order, so I canno. You understand, I'm sure.”
At his next words, Berserker leaned back against the church pillar, face bearing a unconcerend look unbefitting the woman’s knightly countenance. “True enough. True enough. But so long as they don’t see anything unusual, these innocents of yours will come and go freely. Surely a lady consorting with a gentleman is commonplace enough in this era,” commented the blase woman in full medieval combat gear talking to a frankly shady-acting man in a trenchcoat with goggles. Though considering the kind of strange images she’d seen plastered around Shinto’s billboards and on shop window posters on the way to the church, her perception was not only probably skewed, it was most definitely skewed. ’Though I must say, the dominant art style of this age is particularly disproportionate,’ she thought, mind calling back to the short jaunt here, ’Perhaps the advent of machinery has rendered photorealistic artistry unimpressive? I suppose I shall ask Albert later.’
Suddenly, the church doors opened to reveal a fatigued caucasian, who decided to stick around rather than leave. Was he the Master of the mystery Servant? Apparently not, if he could not realize that it was a Servant in the first place. He hadn’t expected him to address her, but his words were reassuring that the people of this age were not so completely foreign.
“Good man. At least someone seems to understand,” Berserker nodded to Jonathan. If only her Master were similar; though agreeable, Albert was far too uppity about the trappings of war by her impression. Fortunately, she was confident she could do something about that. After all, to summon her as Berserker clearly indicated that he knew what he was getting into!
“What’s the damned point of gathering a dozen heroes if all you’d have them do is endlessly fight and prepare for fighting,” she gestured around herself, “We’re in a neutral zone; there’s clearly no better place to break bread.” She paused purposefully at that statement. Hopefully that would have gotten a rise from somebody. “Unfortunately, it seems everyone is content with such a droll existence. Me? I’d much rather prefer to get along with people in kind; slaying each other can always come later. I thank you both for that courtesy.” She directed that statement at both of her gathered opponents. “...However scant it must be, for it seems my Master wishes to depart.”
Berserker looked to the door, but instead of her Master, it was a particularly pedantic looking man who emerged, and stomped over to a long metallic vehicle. Berserker snorted. “What a vulgar transport,” she scoffed, watching Togami’s ostentatious limo disappear into the city, “Surely the pretentious little man doesn’t plan on waging war with such a tasteless thing.”
Her attention then turned to the snow crunching under the mysterious trenchcoat-clad Servant’s feat. It seems whatever discourse had occurred inside had concluded.“I believe this is time to make my leave as well,” she announced to her conversation partners, “Goodbye until we meet again.”
But before vanishing into spirit form, she called out to the departing Servant: “And you, Mystery Servant,” Berserker grinned, “I look forward to meeting you on the battlefield in the future.” She gave a wide wave to the departing Servant, before the doors opened again and her own Master stepped out, calling to her from his mental link.
’Celebration you say? Well, who am I to deny the hospitality of my host.’
Interacting with: @VanceXentan Lancelot, @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @BubbleGumKing Jonathan O'Connor
’You worry too much, Master. Everything will work out, I’m sure. One way or another, we’re sure to learn something.’
WIth that thought transmitted to her Master, Berserker took a breath, planted her hands on her hips, and watched the wilderness for movement. Her confident mien soon began faltering however, replaced with narrowed eyes and an irksome expression.. Berserker shook her head, noting the presences retreating from mutual perception. “Bah. An honorless bunch, that lot,” she crossed her arms and huffed indignantly, “...Or perhaps simply thrall to their weak-hearted Masters. How unfortunate either way.” She then shrugged and looked back to disguised Servant. “Whatever the case, their absences can’t be helped; it seems we’ll have to make do on our own.”
She waited for him to speak first, before responding herself. “Indeed. I could be Saber,” Berserker puffed her chest out proudly. Among her possible classes, she could be summoned as Rider or Saber, in addition to a particularly strange possible Archer classification. And, obviously, the one she was right now: Berserker. “I have thicker skin than that. Think what you may, but I am what I am,” she nodded, giving a dismissive wave to the knight’s apology. Then, in response to that apology, she said: “Likewise. I had not expected someone in your condition to be the noblest of all the Servants I’d perceived, but I will not question whatever strange enchantment attaches you to a mortal guise.” She pointed to the man. “I will give you a free tidbit for being such a courtly Servant however: I am not Saber, as you had guessed. Unfortunately, even that is stretching the limit of my Master’s order, so I canno. You understand, I'm sure.”
At his next words, Berserker leaned back against the church pillar, face bearing a unconcerend look unbefitting the woman’s knightly countenance. “True enough. True enough. But so long as they don’t see anything unusual, these innocents of yours will come and go freely. Surely a lady consorting with a gentleman is commonplace enough in this era,” commented the blase woman in full medieval combat gear talking to a frankly shady-acting man in a trenchcoat with goggles. Though considering the kind of strange images she’d seen plastered around Shinto’s billboards and on shop window posters on the way to the church, her perception was not only probably skewed, it was most definitely skewed. ’Though I must say, the dominant art style of this age is particularly disproportionate,’ she thought, mind calling back to the short jaunt here, ’Perhaps the advent of machinery has rendered photorealistic artistry unimpressive? I suppose I shall ask Albert later.’
Suddenly, the church doors opened to reveal a fatigued caucasian, who decided to stick around rather than leave. Was he the Master of the mystery Servant? Apparently not, if he could not realize that it was a Servant in the first place. He hadn’t expected him to address her, but his words were reassuring that the people of this age were not so completely foreign.
“Good man. At least someone seems to understand,” Berserker nodded to Jonathan. If only her Master were similar; though agreeable, Albert was far too uppity about the trappings of war by her impression. Fortunately, she was confident she could do something about that. After all, to summon her as Berserker clearly indicated that he knew what he was getting into!
“What’s the damned point of gathering a dozen heroes if all you’d have them do is endlessly fight and prepare for fighting,” she gestured around herself, “We’re in a neutral zone; there’s clearly no better place to break bread.” She paused purposefully at that statement. Hopefully that would have gotten a rise from somebody. “Unfortunately, it seems everyone is content with such a droll existence. Me? I’d much rather prefer to get along with people in kind; slaying each other can always come later. I thank you both for that courtesy.” She directed that statement at both of her gathered opponents. “...However scant it must be, for it seems my Master wishes to depart.”
Berserker looked to the door, but instead of her Master, it was a particularly pedantic looking man who emerged, and stomped over to a long metallic vehicle. Berserker snorted. “What a vulgar transport,” she scoffed, watching Togami’s ostentatious limo disappear into the city, “Surely the pretentious little man doesn’t plan on waging war with such a tasteless thing.”
Her attention then turned to the snow crunching under the mysterious trenchcoat-clad Servant’s feat. It seems whatever discourse had occurred inside had concluded.“I believe this is time to make my leave as well,” she announced to her conversation partners, “Goodbye until we meet again.”
But before vanishing into spirit form, she called out to the departing Servant: “And you, Mystery Servant,” Berserker grinned, “I look forward to meeting you on the battlefield in the future.” She gave a wide wave to the departing Servant, before the doors opened again and her own Master stepped out, calling to her from his mental link.
’Celebration you say? Well, who am I to deny the hospitality of my host.’
1x Like
1x Thank
1x Thank
