A distraction is all I ask for.īackstepping to avoid a wide sweep, she pushes forward swiping at his own arms, forcing the Mad Servant to block. So they do have a plan, good let’s see what they can do. The dumb one gave her a nod, and tilted his head to the left. They had to have some sort of plan, with the way they were standing. Maneuvering herself to the side, hoping to get more blows to it’s side or back, she saw Assault and Battery about to do something either extremely brave or stupid. She scowled as Berserker mostly ignored the hit, it only giving him a decent cut despite the force behind her blow. A halberd cutting the air aiming at her head was far more important as she sidestepped the blow and made a slash of her own at the beasts legs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a horned mask with a device looking at her, but deemed it inconsequential. She had to grin at that, this should be more fun than the Berserker of Black. The parry made the bones in her arms shake, the Berserker from the last war was nothing like this. "Are these fodder enough for you, or do you desire a proper battle?" A roar war the response as he pushed forward, sandals crushing the concrete with every step. ”Berserker!" She shouted, helmet closing in preparation of the fight. Stepping off the bike slowly, The Knight of Rebellion had one eye on the juggernaut at all times. Quickly pulling the brake she jams the sword into the ground, using it as a pivot point to turn around and face the back of Berserker. Making the final turn she sees the battlefield. Battlefields always smell the same, no matter the era. Already smelling the blood and bodies a grim thought comes to mind. I’m going to take you back to the throne with me!” Take this, work out how to be summoned as rider next time so she always has this beautiful thing with her.įollowing her senses to the large expenditures of prana she turns the corner, Clarent materializing in her hand. Unable to stop herself she lets out a shout of glee at the power in the tinker’s bike. "Open the door or I will go through it." The door starts to open, either at the threat or the director's orders.įorgoing the helmet of her armor she takes off from the PRT base. Jumping on the bike that seemed made for someone wearing heavy armor she shouted to whoever was listening. Ignoring Piggot on the intercom, she wasn’t using the command seals and Mordred had never really been the best at listening to orders. Running her hand over it, channeling her prana through the metal, her grin turned feral as the prana forces it to life. Spotting a bike significantly larger than the rest she took a look at it. She had B ranked riding ability, she was confident she could drive anything. Running into the garage She took stock of what was available. Jumping between the stairwells summoning armor on the way down. Body shaking with fury as the nominal subordinate just ran from the room.Ĭoming to the stair cases there was no time to wait in her mind. "Saber! Get back here! I did not order you to act as backup!" The Director shouted. Mordred recommended retreat, and threw the headset down and was running to the garage. Master! Van 2!" As the obese woman switched from watching the van with Velocity, Armsmaster, and Miss Militia to where the action was. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Piggot, wondering what she would see in the dream cycle. But that’s not a story for these comrades. It’s been hundreds of years sitting on the Throne of Heroes, Mordred was no closer to resolving her feelings on Artoria. A feral smile came across the tomboys face as she remembered the look of shock on the Assyrian bitch as they cut through her protections.Īt the question about others on the throne, her first thought, as was often the case, was to her father. HE was a good man, despite dressing like a thirteen year old’s idea of cool. A fond smile crossed her lips as she thought back to her own war and Kairi Sisigou. There was an outside chance the Triumvirate she has heard about might get there. She doubted a single one would see the throne of heroes. The fact that all these people with gifts call themselves heroes was almost an insult to the name. She lived to be in the heart of the action.Ī snippet of conversation hit her ears and she heard the Greek themed 'hero' refer to her as a girl. Prideful as she was, she would admit that it was never quite right for her. Sitting in the rear, safe in a headquarters while watching other people fight is not something Mordred was fond of.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |