Snowdrops
Izurich
Bombardier
ChronoBovino
Berserker
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Actual Berserker Berserker, Bozo the Suicide Bomber, Spoopy Skeltan Man
Though the proximity would have made it simple to fall down with the opponent and bury her blade within his back while he was flat-footed and decidedly lacking in aerial maneuvering finesse, the fact he’d been able to endure a single stroke of her blade was cause for caution. That said, the single fact that this so-called ‘true warrior’ had been forced to yield ground to a ‘rookie’ such as her was enough to bring an arrogant smile to her face.
“Tsk tsk. That’s still dodging, Berserker,” she sneered down at scarred brute from on high, mockingly wagging her finger like a mother or schoolmarm disciplining a child. “Perhaps the real rookie here is you.”
Regardless of whatever collateral carnage was unfolding around her, Berserker - both of them - were clearly relishing this situation. She hopped down to meet him, falling in tandem with the dust and debris and landing on a cushioned seat, posed like some kind of snarky asshole with a death wish. You know the one I’m talking about. She didn’t waste long in that position - only long enough to hear Berserker rant at her about with his misogynistic rhetoric - and stood, saying: “I agree Master. I can only imagine how cultured his court must have been.”
Her eyes locked on the enemy across the room, eyes like cold steel.
“Well it’s pretty clear you and I have very different goals in mind,” she laughed. “Besides, my Master can clearly take care of himself; the only one withdrawing here is you and your illusion of power.”
At that moment, as if perfectly timed (it wasn’t, but she’d pretend it was), Albert’s wraiths entered the fray, only to be taken down by a very familiar set of throwing blades: the Black Keys, the trademark weapons of the Holy Church. Immediately her attention turned to the two newcomers, bearing the appropriate religious symbols as confirmation of their affiliation.
Which, naturally, made Berserker go nearly… berserk, once their next actions were revealed.
But she had to hold her tongue, for now. Her Master’s life depended on it. She took a deep breath to still herself, to tuck away the growing lividity… for the moment - a good call, given the kill switch the man had affixed to himself. “Yes, for once, I agree with the other Berserker - this is an ill-fit conclusion,” she grit her teeth, hearing this devil continue to quote scripture as it suited him. And such statements seemed to have demoralized her allies, which only served to further drive her to rage. This whole farce was one of the greatest offences imaginable to inflict on someone of her disposition.
’Very well, Master,’ Berserker responded, her hidden wrath evident in the tone of her thought, ’I’m going to activate my Noble Phantasm. You have five seconds to prepare a Command Seal if you want to stop me.’
Berserker buried her blade into the floor and eyed everyone, but especially the masked clergymen. “You two are members of the Church, non? I would recognize those blades anywhere - An archbishop I knew was quite fond of them, the heretics and devils he’d crushed under heel… quite less so.”
Berserker, finally looking almost fit for the class at this point, began chuckling grimly, “Truly you are like the believer that dasheth their faith upon the stone.” Her hands gripped the pommel of the blade and for a the briefest of moments, a shadow came over her as she intoned, blade glowing with unmatched radiance - a mark of faith purer than any.
A Bounded Field expanded over the area, reaching about a city block in diameter. All within it - that is, everyone - immediately felt the effects. A strange stillness settled, and any who found the urge to act rashly would find themselves pacified unless they passed a check equal to the rank of the Noble Phantasm, which revealed to be A+ in the clairvoyance of any gathered Masters.
“Now then,” Berserker smiled, unsettlingly. Though no danger would come to anybody from her, there was that pervasive sense of rage underpinning her newfound satisfaction, “You heretics will not be getting away that easily, I assure you. But I am getting ahead of myself.” She walked over to the ruined hotel counter, the one with the coffee mug, and began preparing the pre-provided teas, one for everyone, even that other Berserker.
“Yes, those who will not heareth the Word or the will are forgivable, but purposeful denial? The act of hypocrites, your faith is nothing but a sham,” she handed her Master a cup, and then Leon and Lancelot. “You spit upon your dead kinsmen, you spit upon the Church you claim to serve, and you spit upon the legend of two powerful heroes - isn’t that right, Beowulf? Don’t act so surprised, not many barbarian kings tote twin blades and boast of slaying beasts. My words may fall on your pagan ears, but at least your convictions are truer than your Master’s. Would you like some tea?”
She handed it to him anyway, then looked to the masked folk.
“For shame, defenders of Christendom don’t wear masks like that - especially you, corpse. You like an Assassin, one of those filthy Saracan fanatics - though I would not be surprised if that was the case,” she booped the nose of the man with the gun to her Master, and turned to the other, “And you - pierrot - well, in the past the role of the priest was also the role of the jester, so I applaud you for your commitment to history - and your true nature as a fool among fools. Hell welcomes your sort..”
She gave him a dismissive handwave.
“But take that garish explosive off - it will do you no good, even if this field was to be lowered by me. Everyone knows spiritual bodies won’t be affected by weapons without mystery, and a Command Spell is sufficient to allow for escape.”
She turned to Leon this time.
“Would you like to compose a geas contract so we can ensure everyone’s jolly cooperation while we parlay like civilized folk?”
Something about that wasn’t a question.
And all of this occurred, in Albert’s clairvoyance, Berserker’s stat sheet changed, revealing a single skill with its first activation: Hamartia, Rank B.
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Actual Berserker Berserker, Bozo the Suicide Bomber, Spoopy Skeltan Man
Though the proximity would have made it simple to fall down with the opponent and bury her blade within his back while he was flat-footed and decidedly lacking in aerial maneuvering finesse, the fact he’d been able to endure a single stroke of her blade was cause for caution. That said, the single fact that this so-called ‘true warrior’ had been forced to yield ground to a ‘rookie’ such as her was enough to bring an arrogant smile to her face.
“Tsk tsk. That’s still dodging, Berserker,” she sneered down at scarred brute from on high, mockingly wagging her finger like a mother or schoolmarm disciplining a child. “Perhaps the real rookie here is you.”
Regardless of whatever collateral carnage was unfolding around her, Berserker - both of them - were clearly relishing this situation. She hopped down to meet him, falling in tandem with the dust and debris and landing on a cushioned seat, posed like some kind of snarky asshole with a death wish. You know the one I’m talking about. She didn’t waste long in that position - only long enough to hear Berserker rant at her about with his misogynistic rhetoric - and stood, saying: “I agree Master. I can only imagine how cultured his court must have been.”
Her eyes locked on the enemy across the room, eyes like cold steel.
“Well it’s pretty clear you and I have very different goals in mind,” she laughed. “Besides, my Master can clearly take care of himself; the only one withdrawing here is you and your illusion of power.”
At that moment, as if perfectly timed (it wasn’t, but she’d pretend it was), Albert’s wraiths entered the fray, only to be taken down by a very familiar set of throwing blades: the Black Keys, the trademark weapons of the Holy Church. Immediately her attention turned to the two newcomers, bearing the appropriate religious symbols as confirmation of their affiliation.
Which, naturally, made Berserker go nearly… berserk, once their next actions were revealed.
But she had to hold her tongue, for now. Her Master’s life depended on it. She took a deep breath to still herself, to tuck away the growing lividity… for the moment - a good call, given the kill switch the man had affixed to himself. “Yes, for once, I agree with the other Berserker - this is an ill-fit conclusion,” she grit her teeth, hearing this devil continue to quote scripture as it suited him. And such statements seemed to have demoralized her allies, which only served to further drive her to rage. This whole farce was one of the greatest offences imaginable to inflict on someone of her disposition.
’Very well, Master,’ Berserker responded, her hidden wrath evident in the tone of her thought, ’I’m going to activate my Noble Phantasm. You have five seconds to prepare a Command Seal if you want to stop me.’
Berserker buried her blade into the floor and eyed everyone, but especially the masked clergymen. “You two are members of the Church, non? I would recognize those blades anywhere - An archbishop I knew was quite fond of them, the heretics and devils he’d crushed under heel… quite less so.”
Berserker, finally looking almost fit for the class at this point, began chuckling grimly, “Truly you are like the believer that dasheth their faith upon the stone.” Her hands gripped the pommel of the blade and for a the briefest of moments, a shadow came over her as she intoned, blade glowing with unmatched radiance - a mark of faith purer than any.
“Durendal.”
A Bounded Field expanded over the area, reaching about a city block in diameter. All within it - that is, everyone - immediately felt the effects. A strange stillness settled, and any who found the urge to act rashly would find themselves pacified unless they passed a check equal to the rank of the Noble Phantasm, which revealed to be A+ in the clairvoyance of any gathered Masters.
“Now then,” Berserker smiled, unsettlingly. Though no danger would come to anybody from her, there was that pervasive sense of rage underpinning her newfound satisfaction, “You heretics will not be getting away that easily, I assure you. But I am getting ahead of myself.” She walked over to the ruined hotel counter, the one with the coffee mug, and began preparing the pre-provided teas, one for everyone, even that other Berserker.
“Yes, those who will not heareth the Word or the will are forgivable, but purposeful denial? The act of hypocrites, your faith is nothing but a sham,” she handed her Master a cup, and then Leon and Lancelot. “You spit upon your dead kinsmen, you spit upon the Church you claim to serve, and you spit upon the legend of two powerful heroes - isn’t that right, Beowulf? Don’t act so surprised, not many barbarian kings tote twin blades and boast of slaying beasts. My words may fall on your pagan ears, but at least your convictions are truer than your Master’s. Would you like some tea?”
She handed it to him anyway, then looked to the masked folk.
“For shame, defenders of Christendom don’t wear masks like that - especially you, corpse. You like an Assassin, one of those filthy Saracan fanatics - though I would not be surprised if that was the case,” she booped the nose of the man with the gun to her Master, and turned to the other, “And you - pierrot - well, in the past the role of the priest was also the role of the jester, so I applaud you for your commitment to history - and your true nature as a fool among fools. Hell welcomes your sort..”
She gave him a dismissive handwave.
“But take that garish explosive off - it will do you no good, even if this field was to be lowered by me. Everyone knows spiritual bodies won’t be affected by weapons without mystery, and a Command Spell is sufficient to allow for escape.”
She turned to Leon this time.
“Would you like to compose a geas contract so we can ensure everyone’s jolly cooperation while we parlay like civilized folk?”
Something about that wasn’t a question.
And all of this occurred, in Albert’s clairvoyance, Berserker’s stat sheet changed, revealing a single skill with its first activation: Hamartia, Rank B.
