Avatar of Moonlit Sonata
  • Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
  • Posts: 459 (0.13 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Moonlit Sonata 10 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

7 yrs ago
Current The dazzling Sonata makes her return~!
1 like

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Hai~

Now, there are a few issues with this. The most glaring of these is that you should really put long-form stuff like this into a hider! We did ask you to do this with regards to your original character post, so I'm unsure how you failed you get that through your head~

Now then, I would like to make it clear to everyone present that you don't need to worry about something resembling the following occurring to you. You're all wonderful and I hope that we can have fun together~

With that saiiiiiid~

@AngelofOctober

Ah, yes! How does this go~? "DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT TRYING TO BE M A L I C I O U S IN DOING THIS~"

Let's all have fun. Find a towel to bite on, will you~?



Frankly, I've spent enough time on this. I have other things to do tonight, and am finally able to see my family's dog again in time for the holidays, so I will busy myself with that.

Let me close this out.

If I ignore the unacceptable parts of your conduct as a roleplayer, there is nothing there.

If I ignore the pointless vitriol, the aggressive conduct towards GM and player alike, the poor writing, the hypocritical and misplaced attacks, the lack of reading comprehension, and the utter misunderstanding of the setting, then there is nothing left.

I cannot ignore the 'bad' about how you have behaved in this roleplay without visualizing everything you have contributed as a series of entirely blank posts.

I am forgiving for those whose style I disagree with, those who I personally dislike, those who are poor as writers, and so on.

My tipping point is that you are outright rude and antagonistic to both our players and our GMs.

Failure is built into the essence of your conduct.

You are banned from this roleplay. Please do not post here in the future, whether as a response to this post or otherwise.

Please do not contact anyone from the Discord server unless they reach out to you first.

Please do not involve yourself with this roleplay in the future.

Thank you, and have a good day.




Now~ then~

Let's get back to having fun, everyone~

How about that pizzeria~?

Claudius Caligula Westerson

Zero Degrees Lounge, School District 15

@Crusader Lord@liferusher@Breo

What is "wrong"?

If you ask a human this question, you will get a variety of answers. Wrong is incorrect, wrong is impossible, wrong is disgusting or disturbing or foolish.

At its core, wrong is wrong. It is one of the few concepts that is perfectly essentialist. Wrong is wrong. Right is not wrong because wrong is not right.

And so, the doors to the place that Claudius had designated as his 'lunchtime spot for today' swung open, a feeling that could not be expressed in words flowed outwards with it at the center. A sense beyond sight spoke to nothing, informing it of a truth both "of" the world and "beyond" the world.

This pizzeria, this space, this thing is wrong.

There are many different senses of fear.

The fear of a stronger human.

Of something which is perfectly understood, but which cannot be killed by your ability. You understand man, you understand what would have been needed to accomplish to defeat it, and you understand that you lack that much. This is the weakest fear. Predictable, simple, trite. A meaningless illusion that can hardly be called fear.

The fear of a hurricane or an earthquake.

Of a process beyond your "control". Something which you understand, but which you cannot know in totality and infinity. It has no mind, it is merely a process, a result of predetermined actions and ends, and yet you know that it is greater than yourself. A process, there is always a process, and yet this fear barely stands above the fear of another human.

The fear of a monster.

Of something that you are not, that you do not understand and yet you know you will die. If God is all-knowing and all-powerful, the monster is a being of human knowledge and powerlessness. It is the reachable but utterly incomprehensible abyss. It is an end.

The fear of a god.

Of abject inferiority, of acknowledgement that you are nothing. A cosmic speck in the hand of the Bodhisattva. That which creates, that which destroys, that which acts in a transcendent form with the scream of "naught" roaring in their mind, barely able to pay you attention as you are done away with.

This was none of those.

This was all of those.

Plot. Scheme. Make your preparations. Cast your spells. Perform your calculations. Create. Destroy. Ask why. Slit your throat. None of it will do you any good.

Not the fear of man or process or god or devil. It is all useless because this is the most primal fear.

This is the fear of wrong.

Heavy steps strode forth. Each pound of his blasted heart sent surges of fire through his limbs.

The reek of tomato sauce and strawberry ice cream, of oregano and mint chip, of wrong wrong wrong wrong WrONg-

He could not bend. He could not break.

Yes, because after all, after all...

It takes a concept to defeat another concept.

"...one black coffee."

Declaration.

Sentence.

The world starts.

The world ends.

Claudius Caligula Westerson

Hell on Earth, School District 15

In the aftermath of the thugs’ collective flight, an accomplishment which had baffled Judgement and Anti-Skill alike, a lone man had emerged to make sense of the chaos. A brilliant madman. A terrifying genius. Tiresias, the blind leading the sighted. It is here that, after laying in wait, standing behind the veil of such mundanities as ‘making friends’ and ‘getting lunch with his sister’, that he made his appearance.

Rise up, hero.

Even if your strength is but a pale shadow of His, it surely cannot be naught.

...

“...no, no, that’s incorrect. Gahaha! Is it not clear?! The truth that my eyes pierce through has already cut through the veil of deception!”

Where there had once been a throng of concerningly organized thugs, there were now members of Anti-Skill searching the premises, picking up what scraps of information and evidence they could. Among them stood a figure who certainly ‘did not belong’.

Yes, in the first place, this was a man of the Magic Side, a being of occult fancy who had no place in the monument to science that was Academy City. Were the eyeless gaze of the sealed tower open, it would no doubt be fixed towards beings such as himself. Were his true nature known, he would not be able to stand in public so brazenly. However, he stood there nonetheless, side-by-side with a member of Anti-Skill. A member whose request had called him to this place, and among the first true friends he had met in this sprawling cityscape. His name was Liam Napoce, but the being of magic had chosen to instead assign him a nickname. Simply, ‘A’.

The figure himself was the very picture of absurdity. A young adult whose attire was a horrid mismatch of different eras of history, sunglasses far too small to be of use veiling his eyes, he appeared.

The hero. The transcendent. The protagonist.

This. Is. Claudius.

“Listen closely, my dear friend! This is no mere bottle! This was a glass container used to hold approximately forty fluid ounces of an alcoholic substance!”

A hand swept down, a spear of light thrust down from the Kingdom Above to sear away the black ignorance below. The site of indication was clear, the shards of glass that had once been a bottle thrown haphazardly down by one of the thugs, their apparent ringleader of sorts.

“What does tha-...wait, you couldn’t mean...”

At the words of Claudius, confusion splayed itself across Liam’s face, before being written over with something else. Incredulity. Self-derision. Abject fear. Color drained out of his face as he looked from the shards of glass to Claudius himself, a visible shudder tracing along the arch of his spine.

“...I am afraid so. If that is the nature of the opposition, it is only logical that they were able to escape.”

“That bastard! Does he want to get arrested?! I’ll arrest him, you know!”

“Calm yourself, A! We must keep a level head. Remember, a being such as that is bound to ‘rules’; just as espers are bound to laws of science, they are bound to ‘stories’. In order to defeat them, then...”

“...create something that cages their narrative. And if we need to stop something from running wild, then-“

“-Don’t speak it aloud. He may have ears still present. But yes, that is what must be done. The others would decry such methods, but one such as you...I have faith, A. Do not hesitate to call upon my strength, if aid is needed.”

“Heh, got it. I’ll...no, we’ll arrest him.”

Nodding solemnly before going separate ways, the two took to their own next steps.

For Liam, it was investigation.

For Claudius, though?

For Claudius, it was food.

He had skipped breakfast.

@Breo
Fate/Factitious Paradigm has concluded.

The events of the final battle will be revealed in Fate/Veracious Posterity, to be announced at a later date.

We thank you all for your time and hard work.
Interlude X

[At the End of a Miracle]
Greater Ruler (True)


The great Ruler of this war, the overseer of its madness, was not engaged in a fight for his life. He was not making a heroic last stand in the name of the ritual that he was pledged to protect. He was merely hiding. Far beneath the earth in a miniature cavern that he had hollowed out, curled up into a ball, he shuddered and prayed that the conflict above would end.

“I-I’m adding an extra, because you did a wretched job of the last one!”

Pale hands shaking as he hugged his own torso, eyes bulging out of his head in fear, he screamed out towards the only one who could save him from the encroaching calamity. His Noble Phantasm.

“This is your last Labor! You won’t be forgiven if you fail here!”









An annoying fly screamed annoying things in his ear, but that was simple to ignore. After all, he had grown. He was no longer a hero of repentance. Now, standing in front of an enemy that threatened the world, he was simply a hero.

Eighty of these damn things had appeared without warning. Initially, he had prepared to strike them all down with a single blow, but they had come together, becoming one. It was a pity, but that was to be expected. This enemy knew him, and he knew this enemy.

Since then, they had been locked in combat. If he was as weak as he had been when fighting that Caster or that boy, he would have died without question. At that time, he was below even what his power as a Servant was. But, as the war had gone on, he had grown, surpassing his limits and becoming something more. That was the heart of his legend, after all. It was thanks to this that he was able to hold his own against this enemy.

A miniature sun stole one of his lives. A procession of beasts stole one of his lives. A spear of death was warded off. The cry of the forest was warded off.

Another few of these things appeared, joining that conglomerate while he was resurrecting from the most recent death. It was a small change, but that was enough to tip the scales.

A distortion of space stole one of his lives. A cry of the forest stole one of his lives. A spear of death stole one of his lives. The world became a world without a sun.

He would die here. He could perhaps delay the enemy, and inflict some wounds. He had riddled out the nature of its immunity and had become resistant to most of its abilities by now, after all. But, he would die here.

“...”

Something entered the underworld. Streaking faster than even the enemy could react, it appeared and melded into him. It settled in his core, thrumming in tandem with the six others that were already present. The six spiritual cores of the fallen Servants that occupied his existence became seven.

A new strength filled his limbs. A single life was restored, but that was not nearly as important as that strength. With the seventh spiritual core, he had become whole. He had begun as weaker than even ‘himself as a Servant’, but now he had ascended far beyond what was possible for a Servant. Through the labors he had undergone over the course of the war and the taking in of his spiritual cores, his legend had been recreated in this vessel. One could call this ‘power equal to a Heroic Spirit’, or even a ‘counterfeit Grand class’. He used neither. To him, this was simply his true power, the height that he had strived to reach in life, regained even in death.

The enemy was panicked. It concentrated its power. He was certain that the resources it was allocating to cope with him, both in the sheer number of the things and in the proportion of energy it was able send out through his teacher’s seal, was disproportionately high. It was likely making that even higher, a frantic bid to strike him down now that he had grown. Each and everyone one of the remaining hundred-some enemies across the city disappeared from their respective battles without warning, all coming together to face him. Sparing even a scrap of power here, against this enemy, would mean certain death. And so, they prepared their greatest offensive, an attack that stepped into the realm of their unsealed state’s power, an attack they could only use once due to its cost, but would pour out without hesitation if it meant defeating this enemy.

His instincts screamed out. Even with his body in the state that it was, far hardier than any Servant’s, the attack that was coming was sufficient to take fourteen lives, far more than the number he had remaining. But, the hero did not buckle. Without realizing, a smile had formed on his face. A battle to save the world, his blood was boiling. As the enemy’s attack was prepared, he released his great bow. This was a clash of their strongest techniques. If his attack came too late, or if it was insufficient, then he would undoubtedly die.

“Nine Lives...”

“Agrios...”

Understand the basic composition, separate it into its components. Utilize all knowledge of the enemy. Their body, their mind, their Authorities, their resistances, their legends, their ‘everything’. Take in the blessing of the goddess that has just appeared, and create an attack that will turn its one percent chance into one hundred. Imagine the tree of possibilities, and design something that can crush every branch it has.

He strained for more. Simply using his own power would not be enough, but he was not merely himself. He was a Lesser Grail. Since that was the case, he had the right. Burning up his spiritual foundation, burning up the spiritual cores within him, burning up the Holy Grail system itself. Something that went far beyond even Broken Phantasm, a suicidal attack to save the world. If this failed here, it would be the end. The other Servants could not sustain themselves with the Holy Grail system ruined.

It was a selfish act.

It was a narcissistic act.

...But, beyond all else, it was the act of a hero.

“Eleutherios!”

The enemy’s attack was released, and in that moment—

“...Anti-Beast.”

Heracles surpassed his legend.
Interlude IV

[Mountain Stars II]
Hero / Monster

He could not explain it.

He had felt the waves of that concealed combat, he had perceived the existence of the monster, but that alone was not enough to justify him coming here in person. Why had he done so? It defied all reason. It was as if something had spurred him along to do so, as if a wish formed by billions had pushed him forwards.

It was for this reason that he stood there. It was for this reason that he faced something he now recognized. Yes, there was no doubt.

This was not merely a monster. This was a Monster. This was a Monster with the authority to devour all heroes.

Standing before it, he felt a mad maelstrom of emotions. Incredulity, denial, rage, melancholy, nostalgia, but above all of those was a pure, primal terror.

"...that spear..."

...but, none of these were due to the Monster.

In the first place, no Monster could make him fear like this. The worst that it could do was kill. It was simply a beast of destruction and power, regardless of how much it eclipsed him. That did not matter to him. That could not matter to him.

No, the terror was from the object in the Monster's possession.

It was worse than he had imagined. Infinitely worse. It was, without question, 'the most terrifying thing in this world'.

He had merely thought that what was here was a monster.

However.

That spear was something else entirely.

That spear was something that reached for a star beyond such trite words as heroes and monsters.

That spear was a prayer for the end of the world.

A torn laugh nearly sliced its way from his throat. How fitting, how heart-wrenchingly fitting that he'd see this again.

He could not oppose it. He was weak. He was hopelessly, pointlessly weak. If the prayer of that spear was realized, that would be it. They would all be gone. Not merely him, not merely humans, but all of them. Their lives, their creations, their world itself would become dust.

There will be no books singing praises of their heroes.

There will be no statues vaunted in their name.

There will be no children to carry on their story.

Yes, he was helpless to stop that prayer after it had been realized.

...but, for now, that had not come to pass. So, there was a chance. A fraction of a chance existed to prevent that inescapable end from falling upon this planet.

His eyes glinted with a feral madness that found itself mirrored in the Monster's eyes. A single misstep here would be fatal, not merely for him but for 'everything'.

Well...I suppose it's time, then.

Time to be a real hero for once.
@Kyuuzen
Hiya~

Would you be able to join the RP discord (linked in the OOC OP)? It'd make the review a bit more convenient on our end~
Hi, all. Unsure if you're still accepting sheets, but I recently finished something that I'd like to use here, if possible~


I could be up for this~
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet