Phonic

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Construction Project: ‘Tarantasio’ “Temporary room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands

@Paradox Witch @Breo @ManyThings @addamas

“If you wish to contact me about my actions, then you may come here on your own accord, daughter of Matou. Though I would not be opposed to a meeting.”

The two were simply eating this new snack, “popcorn” together, enjoying the aspects of insanity that seemed to climb there ways in and out of her perspective. From a great tree spring up, then getting bombarded by some sort of attack she could recognize as artillery from a position she could not see from the location of “Taratasio”, to the use of an EX-ranked lightning noble phantasm mere moments from her location, to a battle between two servants that identified themselves as Shuten Douji and Aiax.

And then Aiax was killed by “her”. At the least, she understood what had occurred here. Those two were the Servants of the sister pair her Master’s daughter had become chummy with, weren’t they? Two sisters, fighting each other in a war. At least, that is what it had appeared to be according to Benita.

…

…

....

There once was a family.

A family of toys made for the amusement of their creator. Beings bound by their fate to the will of their creator. Beings that were designed to “save the world”. Beings that were created from the light of Eve; a practice that was sealing designated and studies. But was never replicated outside of the family crest.

Twenty-one “Sisters” were created from this method. Bisque dolls that would act to bring about the change in the world desired of “saving the world”. Perhaps, then, it made sense that Benita’s “parents” and a certain man had similar goals and that their paths would cross regardless.

It was as if Benita was set astray on a sea of darkness.

As if struggling through a thick fog.

As if writhing through a nightmare.

Six years.

“So it is a promise. A promise between the two of us.”

There was something that she could not remember. Memories that would not be accessed. After all, those paths were destroyed long ago. Perhaps not intentionally, but that was the result regardless of what they wished to do. Regardless of how much Benita begged and screamed, she could no longer access this memory.

So why did she feel it? If the memory could no longer be accessed like the corruption of data, then the feeling she held to her heart was that of a memory of that memory. They danced a familiar dance from the corners of her eyes. The song was a tune she recalled from those times.

Memories of that time six years ago. They were horribly fragmented. However, the moment that Benita saw that light burning through her vision, she saw ■■■■■■■■■■.

“They” used to dance together. Sing together. Practice together.

Just one memory from that day; from that time. Perhaps not even her own memory. It might have been their memory, but it mattered not. It was still something far from her own access, yet the festering abscess of time washed it back to her perspective.

A person who whispered a wish.

Something they held dear to their heart.

“Why?”

“We were ■■■■■■”
“■■■ should have ■■■■■■””
“But ■■■… ”

Static.

Even if she covered her ears, she would hear those words in her head, like a black-stained voice whispering on the wind. As if a photo whose faces were faded away. They all talked at once, their voices insistent and contradictory and impatient, making unreality a possibility, then a probability, then an incontrovertible fact, as people will when their desires become words.

She recalled saying something to them, but what was said mattered not. For this was long ago, though fresh in her mind as if something that was instilled in the core of their being. Her desire to escape the trappings of her birth. To obtain the final point of her existence. What she was born to do.

She broke, together with the world itself.

… A fragile thing.

Why?

Why?

Why?

What are you doing?

What was the point of this?

Why must we…?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Would she be praised for her efforts, or ridiculed for her actions? It was their “fate” to be destroyed by one another. That was why they were born. To kill or be killed. That was the hell that Benita experienced for those six long years. Repressed memories sealed to maintain the “self”.

She didn’t want to show her tears again. Never again. Not to that woman. Not to her Mother, who showed not even the slightest bit of emotion as her former lover died. Not to anyone ever again. She had to be strong; had to thrive. If she didn’t she would die.

One moment. For just one moment, their body froze. Their heart grated. As if their fingertips had turned into ice and that change was spreading throughout her body. She let out a scream. She could feel the shaking spread throughout her entire body. She mustn’t look away. Those eyes shone with the same light as her own; those glaciers of eyes staring coldly back at her that were just as her own; as if looking into a mirror.

And yet again it would continue. It would continue until the natural conclusion.

As if a sick joke was played on puppets connected to their marionettes.

She was scared. She was scared. She was scared.

But her heart could not waver. Even if they were driven by the dregs of terror, if for a moment she were to hesitate, then it would be her that would have been killed. Hesitation was a weakness, and weakness would be punished with death. Those were the rules of her existence. Even if she were to break from the chains that bound her to this fate, that sole fact would remain.

But unlike ■■■■■■■■■■.she was …

There was also the issue of the Matou provocation and request for conversation, but it was not as if Benita was currently in the right of mind to act upon any sane order. Hopefully that “consultant” would deal with them in conversation.

“Lancer, destroy that Servant,” were the only commands barked out by Benita. They held not the same sort of monotonous tone she had taken with her Servant many times before this point. Behind her voice now was fury. There was anger, and fear, and agony, and yearning, and grief, and anguish, and rejection, and aggression, and many more. Just like on that night; at that time.

“It is unforgivable to kill your own ally. Saber-Class Servant Yamato Takeru … You have a debt you cannot pay back in remorse..”

Achilles was a man who followed no lord. Someone who simply acted as he wished, and if it just so happened to coincide with the desires of his Master, then so be it. Luckily, this was one of those times. Just like the Servant she had summoned, Benita was not the sort to look to the past, but this had awakened in her something that began to fester away at her core.

There would be no retreat. There would be no reinforcement. Briefly, Benita considered storming up to the temple and taking on the traitorous sister. But it was not as if she knew where the two Whitehalls were currently.

She was scared, like a child.

She was crying, but she would never show her mother her tears ever again.

She wanted someone or something to comfort her and tell her everything would be okay.

But above all else …

She wanted someone to save her.

And so, Benita prepared.

Re: Zero: The High Council

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Abandoned Room, Preistella

Same vs. Same

Same vs. Same

Rock vs. Scissors

“My turn then."

Just as Alistair attempted to leave the room, he soon collided with what would first have felt like a wall, but what was, upon inspection, a person wearing the armor of a knight blocked the exit that once seemed so easily in the grasp of Alistair.

One might have initially assumed that in the event someone such as Alistair had collided with the person who stood before him normally, even with the armor, the knight would have found themselves on the floor. Behind them stood another knight of around equal stature to the first one. But they seemed content to allow the knight that had stood in the way of Alistair to handle the situation as is.

“Yo~”

The voice seemed to say this as if it were the most natural thing, similar to how someone might address a friend they had known for ages. As she said this, she had taken her head to her hands and removed the helmet upon her head, revealing her face to the three.

“I hate these things. Can hardly breathe in ‘em. Call me Frede. Ya’ got a name?”

However, despite this rather casual disposition, the murderous intent behind her words shone through past even this.

A smile formed on the young knight’s face, and the wind carried a bestial scent. Despite her imposing self, she looked at Alistair as if she was staring at a close friend, even in this situation, her eyes seemed to gaze cooly, piercing through the group as if two jade ornaments, elegant and beautiful in their construction. Her face, while tomboyish, their skin was almost like that of a soft, porcelain doll. Her finely textured blonde hair seemed to sparkle as one might expect golden dust, tied rather messily in a ponytail.

The air seemed to freeze, stagnating completely. It was not a matter of fitness, nor the quality of the air, nor the boy’s lungs. Perhaps on a primal level, the body understands when to run. After all, self-preservation was the only purpose of the body, wasn’t it? Anyone with any sort of sense of preservation should have had a nagging sensation in the back of their mind telling them this girl was nothing but trouble.

Why?

Aside from another person dawned in armor behind her, the three men both outnumbered the two knights, were larger in stature and were men. There would be no reason to suspect they would not be able to simply overpower the two, regardless of their weapons or armor. After all, there was no way they could enforce these demands on the three strangers.

“Ahhh~ I messed up. Shouldn't have introduced myself, but I guess I just wanted to know if dead meat had a name or not. I should have just subdued you while you weren’t paying attention. “They” always say not to toy with your prey, but I can’t help it I guess.”

Upon her person was a blade of great mass and weight that she had rested upon the ground. Something that seemed almost comical to imagine the young lady knight would be able to wield efficiently to any regard. A greatsword wielded by a great knight. The one that was the “wall” blocking the only exit available to the three men, the natural light of the outside pervading around her, but they stood in the way of this freedom.

Something that inhibited progress.

Something that refused entry.

Something that would not falter.

“No matter. I don’t know what you are doing here, but your journey is over, boys. Seems like you pissed off the wrong guy. Don’t know what ya’ did, but that ain’t my concern. I’ll see to that.I’ve been told to take anyone I find here for … shall we call it “advanced questioning”? I’d say I’m sorry for ya’ but that’d be a lie, ya’ know? Your rights are forfeit, bastards.”

@Cu Chulainn@FamishedPants@Letter Bee@Red Alice

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Construction Project: ‘Tarantasio’ “Temporary room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands

@Paradox Witch @Breo

“Of course I didn’t just plan on letting anyone who comes here not fall. Whether they be Master or Servant, I am sure they are nothing to our power. I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you though.”

It was likely not too much of a boast by either party. Achilles was the greatest hero of the Trojan wars, and Benita was designed to claim victory in a Holy Grail War.

“Good plan, Lancer. I shall inform you when I need you once more,“ Benita said, honestly believing for that moment that her Servant did not have an ulterior motive of simply goofing off. Perhaps it didn’t truly matter. The project would continue onward regardless of her Servant, and it was not as if she was worried for the moment of any actions against her. Even if her opponents managed to beat past her defenses, her’s were not the only thing someone should worry about …

“I expect an account of your findings after you return.”

It was very unlikely that Achilles would have any sort of detailed report he would share with his Master, but even something as simple as “I saw a Servant here” was still information she could use to better plan in the upcoming Grail War.

For whatever reason, this calm felt like the beginning before a giant storm. There had been no casualties Benita had found in this war. Perhaps they were merely playing some sort of game, as her own Servant was, but considering the record of engrained upon herself, aside from the civilian population, this war seemed to divulge from previous bloody conflicts. If it were her own assertion, it would be that the total number of participants might have caused pacivity in the general magi within this war. After all, the daughter of her own master had formed an alliance with several others prior to the loss of contact with her. Therefore, one could assert solely based on this there were other factions vying for supremacy in this war.

Maybe Benita should have sent a familiar to check for Reiki’s whereabouts?

If she was truly the offspring of her Master, she was likely fine. Though the house was flattened, Benita had to weigh the consequences of her actions to the potential damage of such a catastrophe that could have wiped an entire city and its population from the face of the earth, maybe even spreading beyond that, all because a bunch of people couldn’t figure out how to work a fire extinguisher. In her drunken state, her intentions might have been diluted, but she was still someone who was born to “save the world”, and as such pragmatic, instantaneous choices must always be enacted before something becomes worse. She was not a “savior” in this case, but losing a leg is always better than allowing the leg to infect the body.

It was not a choice she would have gladly made if she was not under the influence of drunkenness, but it would have been one she made nonetheless.

That was when Benita heard the knock at the door. And with that knock came a presence, both pleasant and placid in demeanor, seemed to convey a sort of familial bond of sorts; as if he believed Benita to be some sort of equal in his eyes.

And perhaps it was impotent of his actions to equate himself to Benita in this regard. If Benita was the foreman, this “man” was the coordinator. He was the arms and legs to ensure that the project was going to plan and that Benita was not in the way of the construction project, as she had previously. A hefty job for such a soothing “individual”.

“I currently have the time to look over those plans, though I will presume your input would be notable in forwarding the project to its natural conclusion. For that, you have my gratitude; for both you and your master.”

If anything, even if at times she would solely act upon impulsive behavior, Benita was not the sort to disregard the assistance of another.

If it came down to it, and “that man” and she had their differences, Benita would take it upon herself to deal with him to the best of her ability, but so long as they were partners if only for the venture of this project, she would honor her dealings. As she hoped a merchant would honor his own.

“As for that which both your master and I had discussed prior, you may call upon him now if you wish. I am willing to make this transaction any time he is availabl-”

That was when there was a huge explosion outside.

“Can’t I get a moment’s break?” Benita aloud, though it was clear it was not directed at Strauss’ management consultant. After all, this city was destroyed once over. It was likely that it would continue to be destroyed if the first two days were any indication of the level of destruction a Greater Holy Grail War, unsupervised by either the Mages’ Association nor the Holy Church, could reach in a short period of time. It appeared that within viewing distance, a Noble Phantasm had been activated.

… Well, viewing distance might as well be considered the entire flatlands, as, besides her construction project, there were no buildings left in the area. At least she could gain some information using clairvoyance.

Of course, with this level of destruction, perhaps they would eventually show up to supervise this war.

Until then, the participants were dogs without horses.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Construction Project: ‘Tarantasio’ “Temporary room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands

“I think I might have to thank that boy next time I see him,” Benita said to herself, seemingly to no one in particular.

All night had the “manpower” she had borrowed from a that “other” man in the bar during her stroll towards Ground Zero, where the center of the World in which Achilles had inhabited been dropped on the city, been working. Slaving themselves with the knowledge of the city’s destruction.

The beginnings of Benita’s new base of operations was beginning its foundation. A large foundation that seemed to take up a rather sizable amount of the land, fenced off to the outside world as a lord’s manor might be. But there was only what could be considered the beginnings of a proper building and infrastructure forming from this foundation.

Various individuals had contributed in some way for this to occur. Funding from every which way was allocated towards the construction, mysterious benefactors or otherwise. What mattered was the creation of “‘Tarantasio”. And while Benita was technically the foreman for these workers, it was more so that she simply told them to build as so they did.

The sawing of wood, the hustle of men. This was a true construction site. Though Benita did offer her assistance, the totally not criminals gave her candy and told her that she could be the foreman. And it was not as if they needed supervision all the time, as they told her.

But as it stood now, Tarantasio was merely a fenced-off foundation with a few temporary rooms that were sparsely furnished, only containing the necessities that one might require to live in the area temporary, as well as a simple desk that bisected the room to those who would enter through the door. After all, if this was going to be “Benita’s” base, then she would need to exploit the land to its fullest.

But what was there to exploit in a flattened region, muddied by storm?

“You performed most excellently, Lancer. While a victory against a blaze might not be the most glorious victory, I will claim it anyway,” Benita said, complimenting her Servant in a rather simple, prim and proper manner.

She had no complaints about the Servant she had summoned. The greatest Hero of the Trojan War was her chip on the board, and while there might exist other great Heroic Spirits of old, summoning a Heroic Spirit like Achilles was drawing the Ace out of the deck of cards.

“Still, summoning Achilles without a catalyst or any sort of plan must just be some beginners luck. I suppose that out of all my “siblings” I had the highest aptitude for magecraft. Perhaps that had an impact on my selection for both this mission and the allocated Servant I was granted by the Grail?”

While a great Heroic Spirit might make a great Servant, it is also a curse to have someone so famous within one’s peerage. After all, having such an iconic Servant, both powerful and one whose weakness is well known, might not always be a boon. But to Benita, whom of which wished to win the Grail War for someone else, it would grant her the power to obtain victory if such tides would continue to flow her way.

"Destroy the culprit who caused yesterday's tragedy, and receive two command seals."

Benita could not harbor the same kind of greatness that the voice of the ruler might have been able to provide, but she could echo his decree to her Servant easily.

“You think that applies to us?”

The destruction of the region was because of her own Servant and her own command, the missing wing of her eagle-like command mantras missing from the markings on her hand’s reverse side. It would remind her of her seemingly, at the time, frivolous order. But the death of many still would hang on the shoulders of Benita’s mind.

She could not regret her choices. After all, that regret would do nothing but spit in the face of those who had died. While unfortunate their lives would be snuffed out without recourse of their own, the whole situation could have lost even more lives had immediate action not been taken. Even if Benita was impaired during this whole endeavor she cannot say that her choice was the wrong one.

Had this choice really been something awful? Amputate the arm to save the body would always be better than losing the body. With the city, it could rebuild itself even greater than before. While the loss of life was terrible, the cursed fire would have done them in so easily. Therefore, one could say that while it was a hard choice to make, the combination of the divine storm and the world-shield might have prevented the entire city from being destroyed.

However, a “victory” for something that should have never gotten to the extent in which it had gotten should really have been solved earlier without having to wipe the slate clean. Who were these reckless idiots in this Grail War?!

. . .

Oh right, she was one of those reckless idiots with a reckless idiot Servant.

“Any suggestions, Lancer? We made a target of our back … or I guess heel in your case. What do you think would be the best choice of action?”

@Breo

-------------------------------------------------------

Western Farms, Caldwell Plantation.

Had someone discovered her Master’s presence already? Gudrun supposed that it was not as if he was trying his best to hide, but for a Servant to do skulk the location near her Master’s property, she would have to at the very least do the bare minimum to protect the manner, no?

“I’ll make sure to get a good look at the enemy for you, Master,” Gudrun told Martin Caldwell via the connection they shared. After all, it was likely that if they could figure out which Servant was near, they could create appropriate defensive measures. And so, cloak on her person, she left to go either confront the Servant, or gather intel on his person.

How many times had she wished to the gods themselves to bring back her husband?

How many times had she asked for assistance to realize his vengeance?

… How many times were her cries met with deaf ears?

… But she wanted to see him.

Even if she would have to continue on forever.

Even if she would never see him ever again.

Even if she accepted the call of the throne of heroes into each war only to find no respite from her loneliness, she would continue to do so,

Why wouldn’t she just continue on? It would be so much easier if she would just forget about him. It was easier to forget than it was to hold onto the thin hope of impossibility for as long as one could be incarnated once more. It would take a miracle to bring about such a reunion; that stupid man and his doting wife were separated by leagues of impossibilities.

Gudrun did not believe that she would be compensated for her pains.

Gudrun did not believe that she would be forgiven for her crimes.

But she would continue to wait for him forever, even if he were to hate her for what she had become; a monster. She couldn’t help but do so. Because she loved him with all of her heart. And while he might not hold her in the same regard, and that was regrettable, Sigurd was the center of Gudrun’s entire universe. All five horizons revolved around his soul as the earth to the sun

She wanted to be held in his strong arms, protecting and cradling her as his princess. To hear his voice call out her name once more as he did so many times and as she took for granted so many times. Perhaps, then, this was repentance for what she had done?

Her footsteps were light as her heart began aflutter. Gudrun, who had prided herself on her ability, could not move, yet her body was would not stop quivering. She had taken off her noble phantasm, allowing the person before her to see her in earnest.

“S-Sigurd … Is it really you?”

She tried her best to choke back the tears welling at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had always planned on what she would do at this moment, running into her husband’s arms and holding him so tightly he couldn’t ever let go of her ever again as he lifted her up and spun her around in his arms.

But she couldn’t move.

Was this even real? Had her desire to see her husband finally caused her to see visions that weren’t there?

… Even if that was the case. she hoped in earnest that this moment would continue forever.

@CorpusMundum
@Crusader Lord

Re: Zero: The High Council

Dragon Knight

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Appearance

19 | Female | 56kg | 161cm
Yin _Shamak[ | Native | Human (?)

Description
A haughty knight stained by the monster they are renowned for slaying.

Personality

At first glance, Frede seems to display a rather haughty, almost arrogant attitude towards others and have a grandiose sense of self-importance, often going on and on about their exploits as a “Hero that defeated the Evil Dragon”. Someone who thinks highly of themselves in any position, though is more often than not made a fool of by their own actions

A youth that thirsts for excitement and, even though she attempts to sound relatively dignified, often slips into rougher speech patterns, most prominently when their battle-lust is piqued. In terms of disposition, she naturally leans towards 'justice', in the sense that she will 'do what she thinks is right because it is the right thing to do', even if it would bring them to ruin in the end. Regardless of their haughty, glory-chasing self, Frede is a strong-willed and driven person who is determined to defeat what she considers “‘evil” as it appears to her, valuing her comrades deeply and has a deep-rooted sense of justice, but would not be the first to admit this trait.

Class
Berserker

Bio

Biography

While a child, Frede always admired the knights. People who placed their lives on the lines for others. Just like her father, a knight that fought hard during the great war that ravaged Lugnica. Although her memories of her father before the war were warm and loving, her admiration of her Father grew as she learned of his escapades in writing.

She trained herself, either with her twin brother Claus or with her tutor, in order to better improve herself as she aspired to her dream of becoming a knight that protected the nation of Lugnica, just as her father did, and just as her and her brother aspired to do. However, she never once bested her brother in a fair fight, and her mother often was against any martial training of Frede, but she decided to do so anyway.

The news came as a shock to the Merogasque family, that Frede’s father had fallen in battle. It was an unfortunate casualty of the war, but one that was necessary for the victory and preservation of Lugnica, and while it was hard to stomach for Frede, this simply increased her resolve further along with her brother’s desire to become a knight. And while her mother still fervently wished for both children not to join the Knights, Claus and Frede refused their mother’s wishes.

While the two both joined with the Knights, the ability to gain any glory within their ranks seemed nigh as the war had concluded already. But the two carried out any missions given to them, such as cleaning up the countryside from outlaws that seemed prevalent after the end of the war.

Just as tragedy struck, it had struck once more with the death of her brother, Claus, during a rather routine patrol of trade routes to protect the commerce that was the lifeblood of Nastra. But while their expedition started as a rather conventional patrol turned rather wild as the group attempted to reestablish the defensive barrier against the Demonic Beasts that were a larger issue currently than the bandits and the riffraff in ensuring the spice flowed.

They were forced to camp near a mountain after the sun had set. However, the patrols found something rather odd. A cave formation in the side of the mountain. The group of knights decided to investigate the cave, however, what began as a group of twenty knights soon dwindled into but two.

The Green Dragon; the Evil Dragon. The one that they called Fafnir. This was his domain. And the rather green knights found themselves face to face with a being that was nearly on the level of the Three Great.

News of this soon reached the capital, and a new expedition of 100 knights would be sent to defeat this monster. Perhaps more should have been spared, but due to the rebuilding after the war, there was no way they could round together any more knights. And amongst the volunteers was none other than Frede, wishing to avenge the death of her brother.

But just as the group of twenty were defeated easily, so too were the 100 knights sent to defeat this dragon. All but one. As though a miracle itself the greenest of the Knights was the one to come back alive. Not only that, this newly recruited knight claimed victory over the wicked dragon Fafnir, bringing back a part of its horn as proof of the beast’s defeat.

Frede became a hero overnight; a celebrity that had been the one to overcome the odds of one of the great Demonic Beasts that plagued the lands of Lugnica, and her actions were recognized with applause by nobles and peasants alike. And stories are still told by bards to this day about the youthful knight who defeated the great dragon Fafnir.

Magic

Life energy: -

Flow: -

Skin of the Mighty Dragon: Inheritor of Fafnir

A blessing of the body, but perhaps could be considered more of a curse than anything. A protection that, as compared to the natural existence of “divine blessings” prevalent at birth or through the favor of the World, this is instead a “state of existence” that enforced its way upon the core of Frede. A fragile thing.

Fafnir was not a two-bit lesser drake. A cursed being forced to exist by the perverse nature of an unfortunate fate granted to them by the likes of the witches of antiquity. The protector of the cursed gold that many adventurers attempted to obtain, but never did a single adventurer obtain the riches the dragon collected.

After felling the beast, Frede was unintentionally drenched in its blood, pervading her very existence as malignant information upon their core. The urge to give in to an impulse that is both 'inherent to the self' yet 'completely alien to the self'. In the case of Frede, this impulse speaks to the nature of 'Dragon' that pervades her existence; the blood running through her veins and drenching her skin.

Her strength is impossibly higher than someone of her build could ever possibly obtain, the strength of the cursed drake coursing through their existence In addition to this, their skin could be considered greater than well-forged armor, able to defend against common weapons as if they were nothing. However, against those of greater strength or of weapons holding some sort of mystery, this becomes less effective. Of course, it should be stated that due to the lack of their back being drenched in the foul substance, this defense does not extend here and that the closer they become to the slain dragon, the greater this power manifests.

As an unintended side effect of this ability, their use of magic through their gate has been permanently sealed.

Extra

Primary Theme:

Battle Theme

Re: Zero: The High Council

Dragon Knight

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Appearance

19 | Female | 56kg | 161cm
Yin _Shamak[ | Native | Human (?)

Description
A haughty knight stained by the monster they are renowned for slaying.

Personality

At first glance, Frede seems to display a rather haughty, almost arrogant attitude towards others and have a grandiose sense of self-importance, often going on and on about their exploits as a “Hero that defeated the Evil Dragon”. Someone who thinks highly of themselves in any position, though is more often than not made a fool of by their own actions

A youth that thirsts for excitement and, even though she attempts to sound relatively dignified, often slips into rougher speech patterns, most prominently when their battle-lust is piqued. In terms of disposition, she naturally leans towards 'justice', in the sense that she will 'do what she thinks is right because it is the right thing to do', even if it would bring them to ruin in the end. Regardless of their haughty, glory-chasing self, Frede is a strong-willed and driven person who is determined to defeat what she considers “‘evil” as it appears to her, valuing her comrades deeply and has a deep-rooted sense of justice, but would not be the first to admit this trait.

Class
Berserker

Bio

Biography

While a child, Frede always admired the knights. People who placed their lives on the lines for others. Just like her father, a knight that fought hard during the great war that ravaged Lugnica. Although her memories of her father before the war were warm and loving, her admiration of her Father grew as she learned of his escapades in writing.

She trained herself, either with her twin brother Claus or with her tutor, in order to better improve herself as she aspired to her dream of becoming a knight that protected the nation of Lugnica, just as her father did, and just as her and her brother aspired to do. However, she never once bested her brother in a fair fight, and her mother often was against any martial training of Frede, but she decided to do so anyway.

The news came as a shock to the Merogasque family, that Frede’s father had fallen in battle. It was an unfortunate casualty of the war, but one that was necessary for the victory and preservation of Lugnica, and while it was hard to stomach for Frede, this simply increased her resolve further along with her brother’s desire to become a knight. And while her mother still fervently wished for both children not to join the Knights, Claus and Frede refused their mother’s wishes.

While the two both joined with the Knights, the ability to gain any glory within their ranks seemed nigh as the war had concluded already. But the two carried out any missions given to them, such as cleaning up the countryside from outlaws that seemed prevalent after the end of the war.

Just as tragedy struck, it had struck once more with the death of her brother, Claus, during a rather routine patrol of trade routes to protect the commerce that was the lifeblood of Nastra. But while their expedition started as a rather conventional patrol turned rather wild as the group attempted to reestablish the defensive barrier against the Demonic Beasts that were a larger issue currently than the bandits and the riffraff in ensuring the spice flowed.

They were forced to camp near a mountain after the sun had set. However, the patrols found something rather odd. A cave formation in the side of the mountain. The group of knights decided to investigate the cave, however, what began as a group of twenty knights soon dwindled into but two.

The Green Dragon; the Evil Dragon. The one that they called Fafnir. This was his domain. And the rather green knights found themselves face to face with a being that was nearly on the level of the Three Great.

News of this soon reached the capital, and a new expedition of 100 knights would be sent to defeat this monster. Perhaps more should have been spared, but due to the rebuilding after the war, there was no way they could round together any more knights. And amongst the volunteers was none other than Frede, wishing to avenge the death of her brother.

But just as the group of twenty were defeated easily, so too were the 100 knights sent to defeat this dragon. All but one. As though a miracle itself the greenest of the Knights was the one to come back alive. Not only that, this newly recruited knight claimed victory over the wicked dragon Fafnir, bringing back a part of its horn as proof of the beast’s defeat.

Frede became a hero overnight; a celebrity that had been the one to overcome the odds of one of the great Demonic Beasts that plagued the lands of Lugnica, and her actions were recognized with applause by nobles and peasants alike. And stories are still told by bards to this day about the youthful knight who defeated the great dragon Fafnir.

Magic

Life energy: -

Flow: -

Skin of the Mighty Dragon: Inheritor of Fafnir

A blessing of the body, but perhaps could be considered more of a curse than anything. A protection that, as compared to the natural existence of “divine blessings” prevalent at birth or through the favor of the World, this is instead a “state of existence” that enforced its way upon the core of Frede. A fragile thing.

Fafnir was not a two-bit lesser drake. A cursed being forced to exist by the perverse nature of an unfortunate fate granted to them by the likes of the witches of antiquity. The protector of the cursed gold that many adventurers attempted to obtain, but never did a single adventurer obtain the riches the dragon collected.

After felling the beast, Frede was unintentionally drenched in its blood, pervading her very existence as malignant information upon their core. The urge to give in to an impulse that is both 'inherent to the self' yet 'completely alien to the self'. In the case of Frede, this impulse speaks to the nature of 'Dragon' that pervades her existence; the blood running through her veins and drenching her skin.

Her strength is impossibly higher than someone of her build could ever possibly obtain, the strength of the cursed drake coursing through their existence In addition to this, their skin could be considered greater than well-forged armor, able to defend against common weapons as if they were nothing. However, against those of greater strength or of weapons holding some sort of mystery, this becomes less effective. Of course, it should be stated that due to the lack of their back being drenched in the foul substance, this defense does not extend here and that the closer they become to the slain dragon, the greater this power manifests.

As an unintended side effect of this ability, their use of magic through their gate has been permanently sealed.

Extra

Primary Theme:

Battle Theme

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Pelion’s Pub, Edge of Shinto

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~.”

Laughter bellows from a small girl sitting at the corner of the bar, muttering to what seemed like nothing prior to her laughter.

… How long had this “child” been at the bar? A “kid” that was clearly beyond what their limit should have been long ago. Perhaps it was due to the nature of this place and existence that she was continually able to consume the spirits here. Constantly healing. Constantly in a state of perpetual drunkardness. Even if it had been only a few drinks, the potency of the drinks was enough to cause such a volatile reaction from her that it.

Why had she begun laughing? She had put on a rather fun play with her demons and was enjoying it more than anyone else probably would. A simple play about a hero with a single weakness who is defeated due to such a weakness. Perhaps, then, it was ironic her Servant was such a being. Or perhaps it was because of such? It mattered not to her. She was merely amused by her own creations, dancing around as if they were marionettes and Benita was pulling their strings.

Benita had only wished to grab one or two drinks. After all, within her memories implanted into her, she remembered such substances causing great joy to those who consumed them, and she realized now that this was simply the case. After all, she had not laughed like this or enjoyed something so much since ... ever. Her entire life up until this point was tailored towards a goal, and now that she had deviated from that goal, she was free to begin her "life".

Unfortunately, this had the adverse effect of blowing off a meeting she was supposed to attend prior. Would that come and bite her in the future?

Maybe.

But not as much as it was biting her now. Or rather, everyone else.

That was when she noticed the smoke from the city. The city on fire. That was probably an issue, right? After all, Shinji (True) and her “master’s” home was also there. She couldn’t just let that continue, right? She had to be the “Hero that saved humanity” after all. Even if every life would not be able to have been saved, at the very least their sacrifice would fuel the ability of Benita to obtain this goal.

… A goal that belonged to someone else. She was merely created to fulfill this want. The desire of her creator’s contract. Someone who would not be allowed to have their own will and wants. But there she was. Above all else, something had contaminated this white. Colored it a shade of “other”. From purity comes ____

“That seems dangerous ... Hey Lancer Prime, can you go use your shield on that fire? I'll leave it to you~.”

And with that, one of the command spells on her hands disappeared, placing the power of the greatest bindings from her own “master” into the power of her Servant for this task. Perhaps Achilles might think that his Master is trying to prevent the fire from being able to spread more by using the shield and crushing the ability for it to combust.

… However, the true reason might have been a confusion of their drunken state and their desires. Something primal that she had secretly wished to partake in since she arrived in this land of the rising sun. A tradition of this place that seemed both fun and entertaining. Even if Benita was denied this sensibility of “self” as a creation to replicate another, this burning desire would drive anyone to sin.

It could not be her fault. If she were to blame then the morals of the world would have to be changed to suit this position. Someone denied the very pleasures of life had recently experienced them and had been hooked on their wants.

And that want was . . . .

“Hey kid~,” (ironically) Benita calls to Gin, “Have you ever gone to a hot spring before~. I heard Japan is renowned for them, but I haven't seen one yet~.”
@Paradox Witch @Cu Chulainn @Breo

Isekai - The New God | Re:Zero RP [Large Group | Casual | Accepting]

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Appearance

19 | Female | 56kg | 161cm
Yin _Shamak | Native | Human (?)

Description
A haughty knight stained by the monster they are renowned for the slaying of.

Personality

At first glance, Frede seems to display a rather haughty, almost arrogant attitude towards others and have a grandiose sense of self-importance, often going on and on about their exploits as a “Hero that defeated the Evil Dragon”. Someone who thinks highly of themselves in any position, though is more often than not made a fool of by their own actions

A youth that thirsts for excitement and, even though she attempts to sound relatively dignified, often slips into rougher speech patterns, most prominently when their battle-lust is piqued. In terms of disposition, she naturally leans towards 'justice', in the sense that she will 'do what she thinks is right because it is the right thing to do', even if it would bring them to ruin in the end. Regardless of their haughty, glory-chasing self, Frede is a strong-willed and driven person who is determined to defeat what she considers “‘evil” as it appears to her, valuing her comrades deeply and has a deep-rooted sense of justice, but would not be the first to admit this trait.

Bio

Biography

While a child, Frede always admired the knights. People who placed their lives on the lines for others. Just like her father, a knight that fought hard during the great war that ravaged Lugnica. Although her memories of her father before the war were warm and loving, her admiration of her Father grew as she learned of his escapades in writing.

She trained herself, either with her twin brother Claus or with her tutor, in order to better improve herself as she aspired to her dream of becoming a knight that protected the nation of Lugnica, just as her father did, and just as her and her brother aspired to do. However, she never once bested her brother in a fair fight, and her mother often was against any martial training of Frede, but she decided to do so anyway.

The news came as a shock to the Merogasque family, that Frede’s father had fallen in battle. It was an unfortunate casualty of the war, but one that was necessary for the victory and preservation of Lugnica, and while it was hard to stomach for Frede, this simply increased her resolve further along with her brother’s desire to become a knight. And while her mother still fervently wished for both children not to join the Knights, Claus and Frede refused their mother’s wishes.

While the two both joined with the Knights, the ability to gain any glory within their ranks seemed nigh as the war had concluded already. But the two carried out any missions given to them, such as cleaning up the countryside from outlaws that seemed prevalent after the end of the war.

Just as tragedy struck, it had struck once more with the death of her brother, Claus, during a rather routine patrol of trade routes to protect the commerce that was the lifeblood of Nastra. But while their expedition started as a rather conventional patrol turned rather wild as the group attempted to reestablish the defensive barrier against the Demonic Beasts that were a larger issue currently than the bandits and the riffraff in ensuring the spice flowed.

They were forced to camp near a mountain after the sun had set. However, the patrols found something rather odd. A cave formation in the side of the mountain. The group of knights decided to investigate the cave, however, what began as a group of twenty knights soon dwindled into but two.

The Green Dragon; the Evil Dragon. The one that they called Fafnir. This was his domain. And the rather green knights found themselves face to face with a being that was nearly on the level of the Three Great.

News of this soon reached the capital, and a new expedition of 100 knights would be sent to defeat this monster. Perhaps more should have been spared, but due to the rebuilding after the war, there was no way they could round together any more knights. And amongst the volunteers was none other than Frede, wishing to avenge the death of her brother.

But just as the group of twenty were defeated easily, so too were the 100 knights sent to defeat this dragon. All but one. As though a miracle itself the greenest of the Knights was the one to come back alive. Not only that, this newly recruited knight claimed victory over the wicked dragon Fafnir, bringing back a part of its horn as proof of the beast’s defeat.

Frede became a hero overnight; a celebrity that had been the one to overcome the odds of one of the great Demonic Beasts that plagued the lands of Lugnica, and her actions were recognized with applause by nobles and peasants alike. And stories are still told by bards to this day about the youthful knight who defeated the great dragon Fafnir.

Magics
0, previously 17. Access to their gate has been removed due to an external influence.

Abstract Magics

Skin of the Mighty Dragon: Inheritor of Fafnir

A blessing of the body, but perhaps could be considered more of a curse than anything. A protection that, as compared to the natural existence of “divine blessings” prevalent at birth or through the favor of the World, this is instead a “state of existence” that enforced its way upon the core of Frede. A fragile thing.

Fafnir was not a two-bit lesser drake. A cursed being forced to exist by the perverse nature of an unfortunate fate granted to them by the likes of the witches of antiquity. The protector of the cursed gold that many adventurers attempted to obtain, but never did a single adventurer obtain the riches the dragon collected.

After felling the beast, Frede was unintentionally drenched in its blood, pervading her very existence as malignant information upon their core. The urge to give in to an impulse that is both 'inherent to the self' yet 'completely alien to the self'. In the case of Frede, this impulse speaks to the nature of 'Dragon' that pervades her existence; the blood running through her veins and drenching her skin.

Her strength is impossibly higher than someone of her build could ever possibly obtain, the strength of the cursed drake coursing through their existence In addition to this, their skin could be considered greater than well-forged armor, able to defend against common weapons as if they were nothing. However, against those of greater strength or of weapons holding some sort of mystery, this becomes less effective. Of course, it should be stated that due to the lack of their back being drenched in the foul substance, this defense does not extend here and that the closer they become to the slain dragon, the greater this power manifests.

As an unintended side effect of this ability, their use of magic through their gate has been permanently sealed.

Extra

Primary Theme:

Battle Theme

Isekai - The New God | Re:Zero RP [Large Group | Casual | Accepting]

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Fredehildr “Frede” Merogasque

Appearance

19 | Female | 56kg | 161cm
Yin _Shamak | Native | Human (?)

Description
A haughty knight stained by the monster they are renowned for the slaying of.

Personality

At first glance, Frede seems to display a rather haughty, almost arrogant attitude towards others and have a grandiose sense of self-importance, often going on and on about their exploits as a “Hero that defeated the Evil Dragon”. Someone who thinks highly of themselves in any position, though is more often than not made a fool of by their own actions

A youth that thirsts for excitement and, even though she attempts to sound relatively dignified, often slips into rougher speech patterns, most prominently when their battle-lust is piqued. In terms of disposition, she naturally leans towards 'justice', in the sense that she will 'do what she thinks is right because it is the right thing to do', even if it would bring them to ruin in the end. Regardless of their haughty, glory-chasing self, Frede is a strong-willed and driven person who is determined to defeat what she considers “‘evil” as it appears to her, valuing her comrades deeply and has a deep-rooted sense of justice, but would not be the first to admit this trait.

Bio

Biography

While a child, Frede always admired the knights. People who placed their lives on the lines for others. Just like her father, a knight that fought hard during the great war that ravaged Lugnica. Although her memories of her father before the war were warm and loving, her admiration of her Father grew as she learned of his escapades in writing.

She trained herself, either with her twin brother Claus or with her tutor, in order to better improve herself as she aspired to her dream of becoming a knight that protected the nation of Lugnica, just as her father did, and just as her and her brother aspired to do. However, she never once bested her brother in a fair fight, and her mother often was against any martial training of Frede, but she decided to do so anyway.

The news came as a shock to the Merogasque family, that Frede’s father had fallen in battle. It was an unfortunate casualty of the war, but one that was necessary for the victory and preservation of Lugnica, and while it was hard to stomach for Frede, this simply increased her resolve further along with her brother’s desire to become a knight. And while her mother still fervently wished for both children not to join the Knights, Claus and Frede refused their mother’s wishes.

While the two both joined with the Knights, the ability to gain any glory within their ranks seemed nigh as the war had concluded already. But the two carried out any missions given to them, such as cleaning up the countryside from outlaws that seemed prevalent after the end of the war.

Just as tragedy struck, it had struck once more with the death of her brother, Claus, during a rather routine patrol of trade routes to protect the commerce that was the lifeblood of Nastra. But while their expedition started as a rather conventional patrol turned rather wild as the group attempted to reestablish the defensive barrier against the Demonic Beasts that were a larger issue currently than the bandits and the riffraff in ensuring the spice flowed.

They were forced to camp near a mountain after the sun had set. However, the patrols found something rather odd. A cave formation in the side of the mountain. The group of knights decided to investigate the cave, however, what began as a group of twenty knights soon dwindled into but two.

The Green Dragon; the Evil Dragon. The one that they called Fafnir. This was his domain. And the rather green knights found themselves face to face with a being that was nearly on the level of the Three Great.

News of this soon reached the capital, and a new expedition of 100 knights would be sent to defeat this monster. Perhaps more should have been spared, but due to the rebuilding after the war, there was no way they could round together any more knights. And amongst the volunteers was none other than Frede, wishing to avenge the death of her brother.

But just as the group of twenty were defeated easily, so too were the 100 knights sent to defeat this dragon. All but one. As though a miracle itself the greenest of the Knights was the one to come back alive. Not only that, this newly recruited knight claimed victory over the wicked dragon Fafnir, bringing back a part of its horn as proof of the beast’s defeat.

Frede became a hero overnight; a celebrity that had been the one to overcome the odds of one of the great Demonic Beasts that plagued the lands of Lugnica, and her actions were recognized with applause by nobles and peasants alike. And stories are still told by bards to this day about the youthful knight who defeated the great dragon Fafnir.

Magics
0, previously 17. Access to their gate has been removed due to an external influence.

Abstract Magics

Skin of the Mighty Dragon: Inheritor of Fafnir

A blessing of the body, but perhaps could be considered more of a curse than anything. A protection that, as compared to the natural existence of “divine blessings” prevalent at birth or through the favor of the World, this is instead a “state of existence” that enforced its way upon the core of Frede. A fragile thing.

Fafnir was not a two-bit lesser drake. A cursed being forced to exist by the perverse nature of an unfortunate fate granted to them by the likes of the witches of antiquity. The protector of the cursed gold that many adventurers attempted to obtain, but never did a single adventurer obtain the riches the dragon collected.

After felling the beast, Frede was unintentionally drenched in its blood, pervading her very existence as malignant information upon their core. The urge to give in to an impulse that is both 'inherent to the self' yet 'completely alien to the self'. In the case of Frede, this impulse speaks to the nature of 'Dragon' that pervades her existence; the blood running through her veins and drenching her skin.

Her strength is impossibly higher than someone of her build could ever possibly obtain, the strength of the cursed drake coursing through their existence In addition to this, their skin could be considered greater than well-forged armor, able to defend against common weapons as if they were nothing. However, against those of greater strength or of weapons holding some sort of mystery, this becomes less effective. Of course, it should be stated that due to the lack of their back being drenched in the foul substance, this defense does not extend here and that the closer they become to the slain dragon, the greater this power manifests.

As an unintended side effect of this ability, their use of magic through their gate has been permanently sealed.

Extra

Primary Theme:

Battle Theme

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Outside the Bounded Field, Einzbern Forest

@Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord @breo

The Servant that Benita had summed was pushing the opposing Servant into a corner, forcing him to reveal himself more and more as the battle continued. The Swordsman vs the Spearman. However, their martial prowess existed far beyond that, given their current battle.

… But a battle between Servants is a battle between Noble Phantasms.

The fact that “Saber” was fighting Lancer Prime without using his is proof that he is going easy on him. But his demeanor seemed to suggest that “Saber” would never hold back against an opponent. For a single mistake against Lancer Prime would be dead, and a single mistake against the Einzbern “Saber” would be the end of Lancer Prime.

Wa\s it the request by Benita not to utilize them? It was impossible to imagine that either of these Servants would hold back in the slightest, nor was it even imaginable that they would not go for the head if given the chance. Even if Lancer Prime had been ordered to “only get the arrows”, but the presence of “Saber” had prevented that. The two were monsters. Beings outside of what two Servants should be able to produce. A being that compared to a normal human would be the pinnacle of existence.

Benita could hardly talk.

She could hardly

She could hardly think

… But she was captivated.

The whirl of battle continued within the forest. Two shining examples of humanity were competing against one each other with the intent of obtaining a marginal prize. Something so petty could start a fight, but those were the purpose of the familiars that call themselves “Servants”. Beings who were told to fight against one another so that they might obtain the Holy Grail for their own; their “Master”.

Neither Benita nor her Servant Lancer wished to obtain the Grail for themselves, so perhaps they were kindred spirits. But whereas Lancer solely wished to combat against powerful souls like the “Saber” he was currently at odds with, Benita had a greater purpose to “save the world” but “not for herself”. Their purposes might have been different, but they were paired to obtain the Holy Grail, and so long as Lancer Prime was willing to follow her, it was not as if she could ask for a more powerful Servant.

The fight would continue for as long as she felt it was sustainable.

...

…

…

What was that?

A noise that should not have been there.

A single beat that seemed out of place from the battle.

Something that she knew, even for the briefest of moments that existed, should not exist within even the clashing of the greatest heroes of old there existed something even greater than what was within the visage of her Servant.

It seemed impossible that he didn’t realize what was occurring, but considering his enjoyment of the combat, he might not have been able to comprehend anything that existed outside of combat. To Lancer Prime and the Einzbern “Saber”, they existed in a bubble where even the presence of other battles would be inconsequential to their own fighting.

But as soon as Benita had even the thought to call upon Lancer to think about considering proposing a truce, she received a call.

Call

“As cute as ever I see, my little “Jackal”,” the voice playfully states, seemingly unaffected by the fight likely being seen through the cabal’s members. She had her orders to receive the arrows, and it was unlikely that anyone expected the mission to be an easy one.

“There are important matters at hand, I don't have the time to deal with any jokes. Out with it already,” Benita responded, seemingly annoyed that the other would even decide to interrupt Benita during her mission. After all, she needed to get the arrows; defeating the SErvant was the secondary objective in this case.

“New orders. You are to defeat the Einzbern’s Saber. The arrows are no longer a priority. The Einzbern Saber needs to be defeated here and now.”

“Understood. I shall focus my mission on this then.”

“Lancer, you may use anything at your disposal t-”

But her words were cut off from their finish. Another call. But so soon after the previous?

-------------------------------------------------------

Western Farms, Caldwell Plantation.

@CorpusMundum

“Yeah yeah Master,” Assassin responded, seemingly uninterested in the whole affair. “I’ll go survey the area I guess.”

She knew that espionage and the like were important for the success of any and all wars that were to occur; to succeed at a plot one must first obtain a plan worthy of defeating those whom they wish dead. But such actions were boring to the Assassin before Martin Caldwell. The Servant class he had summoned mattered not to her personality, after all, it was not as if she was a true “Assassin” in the sense of someone like the Hassan and the like. Orders were orders, but how could she put her all into something if they were boring!?

Assassin cared not for her Master. A boring man with a rather boring disposition. Perhaps her “other” form would find him rather interesting. A cultist who while not the greatest within the arcane arts attempted his all to better defeat the opponents of greater skill through greater influence. She could respect such actions, perhaps reminding her of her brother to an extent. Someone she both respected as her brother but despised enough to cause his death. Ss an “Assassin” of sorts, she could be considered top-notch. The lady who had orchestrated the deaths of half of the German canon. But that was no the person summoned. A pure maiden who wished only for one thing.

She hardly cared the time or place to where she was summoned, but within a Grail War of this scale, it would increase the likeliness of her “dream” coming true. A “reunion” that she wished to obtain without fail, and would continue to seek infinitely so long as “he” existed. She would seek him to the ends of the earth, even to restore his honor in his death.

Maybe she could find “him”? This mission could not be completely boring. If "He" was in the war, she would find him, and she would be happily reunited with "Him".