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Gonna wait for @Cojemo and @ADamnFiddle before posting for Nezha again
@Beloss
Amedea had a dozen ways she could respond to her servant's promises. She didn't want to be a queen. She didn't want either glory or plunder. She didn't want whatever prize laid at the end of this conflict - whatever compensation Zeltrech would offer her in return for her "services".
What she wanted was to finish whatever inane or possibly outright suicidal tasks the Wizard Marshal set out for her to do, come back alive and go back to her own regular life. Out of all of the magus who had gathered here, she was sure she was the only one who didn't come wagging with her tongue out like some loyal dog coming here at the beck and call of a more powerful wolf. Instead, she had been threatened, cornered into coming here. They had to warn her of threats, of dangers, and how only by coming with them could she aid in stopping it. When faced with such a notion, how could one not agree? The had cornered her into coming and she knew it, and she hated the fact that both knew she would come.
But as cathartic as it would be, she could not say something like that. Not in front of the other gathered masters whom she would not give the pleasure of showing weakness to. Not in front of legendary heroes across mythology, each with deeds done almost daily that would hold more impact than her life combined.
Not in front of her own servant.
She kept silent as he spoke, with no way to answer him. Only at the very end could she finally veer the topic away into more immediate matters she felt comfortable with dealing with. Looking around at the crowd, she began to feel a bit stifled. Taking a sigh, she turned towards the door.
"We were gathered by the Wizard Marshal Zeltrech." she informed Berserker, glancing in the direction of the aged magician before turning back in the direction of the exit - and thus the cafeteria. "But for now, let's get out of here. It's been a long morning and I'm feeling hungry, and I don't know about you but I think you won't mind some food either."
And the longer they stayed here, the more she feared that Sinfjotli would start a fight. Leaving at the first opportunity seemed the wisest idea.
Amedea had a dozen ways she could respond to her servant's promises. She didn't want to be a queen. She didn't want either glory or plunder. She didn't want whatever prize laid at the end of this conflict - whatever compensation Zeltrech would offer her in return for her "services".
What she wanted was to finish whatever inane or possibly outright suicidal tasks the Wizard Marshal set out for her to do, come back alive and go back to her own regular life. Out of all of the magus who had gathered here, she was sure she was the only one who didn't come wagging with her tongue out like some loyal dog coming here at the beck and call of a more powerful wolf. Instead, she had been threatened, cornered into coming here. They had to warn her of threats, of dangers, and how only by coming with them could she aid in stopping it. When faced with such a notion, how could one not agree? The had cornered her into coming and she knew it, and she hated the fact that both knew she would come.
But as cathartic as it would be, she could not say something like that. Not in front of the other gathered masters whom she would not give the pleasure of showing weakness to. Not in front of legendary heroes across mythology, each with deeds done almost daily that would hold more impact than her life combined.
Not in front of her own servant.
She kept silent as he spoke, with no way to answer him. Only at the very end could she finally veer the topic away into more immediate matters she felt comfortable with dealing with. Looking around at the crowd, she began to feel a bit stifled. Taking a sigh, she turned towards the door.
"We were gathered by the Wizard Marshal Zeltrech." she informed Berserker, glancing in the direction of the aged magician before turning back in the direction of the exit - and thus the cafeteria. "But for now, let's get out of here. It's been a long morning and I'm feeling hungry, and I don't know about you but I think you won't mind some food either."
And the longer they stayed here, the more she feared that Sinfjotli would start a fight. Leaving at the first opportunity seemed the wisest idea.
@Beloss
Sinfjotli, the World's Chosen. A legend she was, unfortunately, most unfamiliar with. While she was aware of the nature of the system she had partook on, one could hardly expect her to look up every single legend in preparation for this. She did, however, make a note that she would need to do some research on his legend at the earliest opportunity.
When he spoke of compensation, Amedea visibly paused. She honestly had no idea what a heroic legend could possibly want as compensation. Food? Wine? Treasure? All sorts of possibilities flashed in her head. Whatever he wanted to be appeased with, she was sure she would be able to arrange for it with the Wizard Marshal and the wide variety of resources available here.
In any case, she followed the Berserker's glance around at the fellow master and servant pairs and, regardless of what he said, she did not feel lucky in any degree. Others seemed to be getting along, either acting loyally or even outright eccentrically and being friendly with their Master. If Berserker had been the loyal or the eccentric kind, she would get away with asking other Masters for help. With Sinfjotli, on the the hand, she felt as if the moment she showed weakness he would kill her.
"Then Berserker Sinfjotli," she responded, "I am Amedea of the family Procul - although don't bother remembering that; it's a family I intended to have abandoned." she said, her face visibly scrunching up in reluctance when she said the last name she had been granted - and a name which indirectly caused her to be here.
"...and as long as you cause no permanent complications to our goal, you are free to defend your honor and dignity as you see fit."
@ADamnFiddle
Nezha could not respond in any other way than running the back of her head with her free hand and giving out a loose laugh in response to the question about how she could be a "prince". Legends may change and shift; her appearance was the only thing that remained consistent. Sometimes, heroes and perspectives were warped and people remember details wrongly. There were several examples of such legends which she knew lay within the Throne of Heroes.
"What, isn't this good enough to satisfy you?" she asked as she gave a small twirl around her master jokingly, her smile returning to her face as if it had never disappeared. "But in all seriousness, I am a prince. So I guess that means you have to treat me with respect? Don't worry about that though; I don't like standing on ceremony."
Turning and following her master's gaze, Nezha watched as she began some sort of quarrel with a fellow master with a strikingly handsome servant. Sizing him up, while she was quite confident that, should it have actually come to the battle her master wanted she would be able to give more than a good fight she found this situation troublesome. As a pervert as that man may be, according to her master's words, this man and his own servant would have to be allies in this upcoming struggle. As such, this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all! She needed to do something about this situation quickly but knew that interrupting in the conversation of masters would be less than ideal.
As such, she turned towards his servant, the strikingly handsome Lancer in garb that was about as traditionally Irish as her own armor was Chinese. Her innate magic resistance easily withstood against his curse and she gave Diarmuid a cheery wave.
"Hiya!"
@KoL@Cojemo
Sinfjotli, the World's Chosen. A legend she was, unfortunately, most unfamiliar with. While she was aware of the nature of the system she had partook on, one could hardly expect her to look up every single legend in preparation for this. She did, however, make a note that she would need to do some research on his legend at the earliest opportunity.
When he spoke of compensation, Amedea visibly paused. She honestly had no idea what a heroic legend could possibly want as compensation. Food? Wine? Treasure? All sorts of possibilities flashed in her head. Whatever he wanted to be appeased with, she was sure she would be able to arrange for it with the Wizard Marshal and the wide variety of resources available here.
In any case, she followed the Berserker's glance around at the fellow master and servant pairs and, regardless of what he said, she did not feel lucky in any degree. Others seemed to be getting along, either acting loyally or even outright eccentrically and being friendly with their Master. If Berserker had been the loyal or the eccentric kind, she would get away with asking other Masters for help. With Sinfjotli, on the the hand, she felt as if the moment she showed weakness he would kill her.
"Then Berserker Sinfjotli," she responded, "I am Amedea of the family Procul - although don't bother remembering that; it's a family I intended to have abandoned." she said, her face visibly scrunching up in reluctance when she said the last name she had been granted - and a name which indirectly caused her to be here.
"...and as long as you cause no permanent complications to our goal, you are free to defend your honor and dignity as you see fit."
@ADamnFiddle
Nezha could not respond in any other way than running the back of her head with her free hand and giving out a loose laugh in response to the question about how she could be a "prince". Legends may change and shift; her appearance was the only thing that remained consistent. Sometimes, heroes and perspectives were warped and people remember details wrongly. There were several examples of such legends which she knew lay within the Throne of Heroes.
"What, isn't this good enough to satisfy you?" she asked as she gave a small twirl around her master jokingly, her smile returning to her face as if it had never disappeared. "But in all seriousness, I am a prince. So I guess that means you have to treat me with respect? Don't worry about that though; I don't like standing on ceremony."
Turning and following her master's gaze, Nezha watched as she began some sort of quarrel with a fellow master with a strikingly handsome servant. Sizing him up, while she was quite confident that, should it have actually come to the battle her master wanted she would be able to give more than a good fight she found this situation troublesome. As a pervert as that man may be, according to her master's words, this man and his own servant would have to be allies in this upcoming struggle. As such, this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all! She needed to do something about this situation quickly but knew that interrupting in the conversation of masters would be less than ideal.
As such, she turned towards his servant, the strikingly handsome Lancer in garb that was about as traditionally Irish as her own armor was Chinese. Her innate magic resistance easily withstood against his curse and she gave Diarmuid a cheery wave.
"Hiya!"
@KoL@Cojemo
Same; I'm waiting for Fiddle to post before replying for both Amedea and Nezha
@Beloss
"We're mustering for war, I assume." Amedea looked around the room, finally taking her eyes off of her own servant in order to examine what everyone else had - from exotic eastern shamans to european legends of bizarre clothing, it spoke volumes when the hero she summoned seemed one of the more normal - she supposed the word for it - of them. He at least looked like he came from the 12th century.
"We are gathered to do battle against singularities, irregularities, whatever else the Grand Marshal has in store for us." she explained as she turned her attention back towards the heroic spirit. She had regained most of her composure and was much more calm now, especially seeing how nothing had gone wrong so far and all she needed to do now was bring him out for breakfast before awaiting further orders. One step at a time; it would just be like her first day in the Academy.
"Theoretically, we are all to band together. In practice, many have gathered here anticipating a war in which their allies to be were their opponents to the death. I hope that, whether it be a knife in the back or an abomination in front of us, you won't have any trouble dealing with it, right..."
She paused there, realizing that this was where she was supposed to say his name - which she currently did not know.
Shit, I knew I forgot something. And I had it all figured out too.
"Who are you?"
@ADamnFiddle
Nezha continued her examination of her master even as she spoke before finally getting out of her personal space and her hand was placed on her hip. The inquisitive, almost critical gaze she had earlier was gone, replaced by a youthful smile. She was glad - she had wondered what kind of person had summoned her; feared it was some sort of greedy, upstart mage or someone who was desperate for something they had no means of attaining by themselves - someone who would go further than most would deem comfortable, acceptable or moral to go. Instead, instead of a mutual killing she was certain she had arrived in a battle of a much more noble nature.
And she was perfectly fine with that.
"Hm!" she nodded in satisfaction. "Cute, determined, youthful, assured! I like you!" Giving the Fire-tipped spear a twirl in the air, she slammed it back down on the ground again and raised her free hand towards Shinobu, fingers locked in a "V" position.
"If you're going to lead, then I'll follow you. I'm Prince Nezha, son of the Pagoda-wielding Heavenly King, disciple of Taiyi Zhenren and the subjugator of the dragons of the East Sea, and I accept you as my master!"
Then, pausing for a moment, the servant's smile disappeared and she mused at her master for another moment before adding another line.
"Although you might want to do something about your attitude. While I think being confident and self assured is a good thing, there comes a point where it becomes vanity, you know?"
"We're mustering for war, I assume." Amedea looked around the room, finally taking her eyes off of her own servant in order to examine what everyone else had - from exotic eastern shamans to european legends of bizarre clothing, it spoke volumes when the hero she summoned seemed one of the more normal - she supposed the word for it - of them. He at least looked like he came from the 12th century.
"We are gathered to do battle against singularities, irregularities, whatever else the Grand Marshal has in store for us." she explained as she turned her attention back towards the heroic spirit. She had regained most of her composure and was much more calm now, especially seeing how nothing had gone wrong so far and all she needed to do now was bring him out for breakfast before awaiting further orders. One step at a time; it would just be like her first day in the Academy.
"Theoretically, we are all to band together. In practice, many have gathered here anticipating a war in which their allies to be were their opponents to the death. I hope that, whether it be a knife in the back or an abomination in front of us, you won't have any trouble dealing with it, right..."
She paused there, realizing that this was where she was supposed to say his name - which she currently did not know.
Shit, I knew I forgot something. And I had it all figured out too.
"Who are you?"
@ADamnFiddle
Nezha continued her examination of her master even as she spoke before finally getting out of her personal space and her hand was placed on her hip. The inquisitive, almost critical gaze she had earlier was gone, replaced by a youthful smile. She was glad - she had wondered what kind of person had summoned her; feared it was some sort of greedy, upstart mage or someone who was desperate for something they had no means of attaining by themselves - someone who would go further than most would deem comfortable, acceptable or moral to go. Instead, instead of a mutual killing she was certain she had arrived in a battle of a much more noble nature.
And she was perfectly fine with that.
"Hm!" she nodded in satisfaction. "Cute, determined, youthful, assured! I like you!" Giving the Fire-tipped spear a twirl in the air, she slammed it back down on the ground again and raised her free hand towards Shinobu, fingers locked in a "V" position.
"If you're going to lead, then I'll follow you. I'm Prince Nezha, son of the Pagoda-wielding Heavenly King, disciple of Taiyi Zhenren and the subjugator of the dragons of the East Sea, and I accept you as my master!"
Then, pausing for a moment, the servant's smile disappeared and she mused at her master for another moment before adding another line.
"Although you might want to do something about your attitude. While I think being confident and self assured is a good thing, there comes a point where it becomes vanity, you know?"
@Beloss
Amedea stepped back in awe for a few moments - who wouldn't; being so grossly unprepared as she was? Prior to a week before, the biggest threat to her life had been some potential deranged man with a knife or a gun, now she was facing something out of legends. The other mages, the other magus, might be used to something ridiculous like this but she most certainly wasn't.
Taking a hesitant step forward towards the towering man in front of her, it took her a few more seconds to find any words to say to him but she finally managed to calm herself. It took her a deep breath and a visible moment to calm herself though - something which she feared would lower the servant - hero - legend's opinion of her.
"Yes, I am." she said with a voice that she wasn't quite sure sounded as resolute as she wanted it to be. It was then that she realized she had no idea how to dispel any kind of awkward moment and thus decided to pass the initiative to the servant, "Is there anything you need to say after that?"
@ADamnFiddle
Shinobu's circle glowed with power; accumulating until he chant was finished. In an explosion of light and smoke, where there was once a lotus flower there was now the kneeling form of a young Chinese youth clad in decidedly not Chinese attire. With a blue suit and white skirt accompanied by a white jacket and thigh high white socks, her head, adorned with a blue hairband with the accessory of a single white wing, rose to meet her master. A red sash fluttered in the leftover minature wind from the summoning as she slammed the butt of her spear onto the ground, striking what she thought was a suitably heroic stature.
"Hmm..." She said as she leaned in, peering at Shinobu and examining her up close with eyes narrowed and her free hand cusped around her chin, examining the magus as if she was some kind of statue or work of art "So you're going to be my master?"
Amedea stepped back in awe for a few moments - who wouldn't; being so grossly unprepared as she was? Prior to a week before, the biggest threat to her life had been some potential deranged man with a knife or a gun, now she was facing something out of legends. The other mages, the other magus, might be used to something ridiculous like this but she most certainly wasn't.
Taking a hesitant step forward towards the towering man in front of her, it took her a few more seconds to find any words to say to him but she finally managed to calm herself. It took her a deep breath and a visible moment to calm herself though - something which she feared would lower the servant - hero - legend's opinion of her.
"Yes, I am." she said with a voice that she wasn't quite sure sounded as resolute as she wanted it to be. It was then that she realized she had no idea how to dispel any kind of awkward moment and thus decided to pass the initiative to the servant, "Is there anything you need to say after that?"
@ADamnFiddle
Shinobu's circle glowed with power; accumulating until he chant was finished. In an explosion of light and smoke, where there was once a lotus flower there was now the kneeling form of a young Chinese youth clad in decidedly not Chinese attire. With a blue suit and white skirt accompanied by a white jacket and thigh high white socks, her head, adorned with a blue hairband with the accessory of a single white wing, rose to meet her master. A red sash fluttered in the leftover minature wind from the summoning as she slammed the butt of her spear onto the ground, striking what she thought was a suitably heroic stature.
"Hmm..." She said as she leaned in, peering at Shinobu and examining her up close with eyes narrowed and her free hand cusped around her chin, examining the magus as if she was some kind of statue or work of art "So you're going to be my master?"
Giving a relieved sigh at the Wizard Marshal's lecture - as well as being more than relieved over the fact she was, in fact, not in some sort of death game with the masters around her - Amedea turned towards her own summoning circle. While she was not one for magic, she had practiced the chant - along with the modifications her father had "gifted" her - and memorized them to the point she did not even need the piece of paper when she arrived. She had it all down by heart.
Taking a moment to calm her heart - and to delay the inevitable for just a second longer, Amedea began chanting.
The chant continued, the circle began to glow with power. She could feel some of the circuits within her burning - in usage or anticipation, she could not know. When she arrived at a certain part, however, she deviated from the chat. Almost hesitating for a moment, she put down her father's "Gift".
The chant continued, but she could tell it had been changed. Altered. She had done something out of the ordinary; her circle was beginning to shine in a way it was not supposed to. Or perhaps it had all been in her mind. Nevertheless, she continued.
With her circle most likely one of the last to finish due to the additional lines to the incantation she had made, the cloud of smoke flared up. Taking a step back out of instinct, she coughed a bit, waving the smoke away from the immediate vicinity of her face as she tried to see if she had summoned a hero or had absolutely failed...
Taking a moment to calm her heart - and to delay the inevitable for just a second longer, Amedea began chanting.
"Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation...
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation...
The chant continued, the circle began to glow with power. She could feel some of the circuits within her burning - in usage or anticipation, she could not know. When she arrived at a certain part, however, she deviated from the chat. Almost hesitating for a moment, she put down her father's "Gift".
"Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos.
For you would be one caged in madness;
I shall wield your chains!"
For you would be one caged in madness;
I shall wield your chains!"
The chant continued, but she could tell it had been changed. Altered. She had done something out of the ordinary; her circle was beginning to shine in a way it was not supposed to. Or perhaps it had all been in her mind. Nevertheless, she continued.
"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――！"
With her circle most likely one of the last to finish due to the additional lines to the incantation she had made, the cloud of smoke flared up. Taking a step back out of instinct, she coughed a bit, waving the smoke away from the immediate vicinity of her face as she tried to see if she had summoned a hero or had absolutely failed...
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