- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Sci-fi, Magical
Angela nodded at the Saint’s suggestion - reasonable enough. After the man spoke for a few moments, he began another Summoning Ritual. He tossed a coin in the air, and she got the briefest glimpse of a face on the surface. She blinked, then looked away as the bright light from the concentrated Prana grew too painful. After several moments, the light faded to reveal an elephant. Her eyes widened; she’d never actually seen one in real life. It was...large, to put it mildly.
——
——
Travertine-white and the cold gray of iron gave a placement to Hannibal Barca. After so long a time - or no time at all, depending on how you look at it - on the Throne of Heroes, it was refreshing to have physical surroundings. She gazed around at the group of people around her, before patting her elephant gently on the neck, just before where she sat. It amused her that this was part of her Legend - that she, and presumably the rest of her soldiers, rode elephants as if they were horses. It was a tad more difficult than that, but she wasn’t complaining. “Easy, Fil. Easy.”
After a moment, the elephant stopped moving, and with a thought she dematerialized him, letting herself fall to the ground. Her purple cloak also vanished, which she wasn’t quite happy with, but she’d survive. The click of her shoes against the steel below was followed with the soft brushing of fabric against the ground. Her dress was too long, but there was only so much she could do. She closed her eyes, letting her Magic Resistance fight off the traces of Prana around her. Indeed, they were from the direction of the oldest of the non-Servants in the room. Turning to him, she knelt, and looked into his eyes, a smile dancing on her lips. She was glad to finally be doing something. “Rider-Class Hannibal Barca of Carthage. I ask you, are you my Master?”
——
——
Travertine-white and the cold gray of iron gave a placement to Hannibal Barca. After so long a time - or no time at all, depending on how you look at it - on the Throne of Heroes, it was refreshing to have physical surroundings. She gazed around at the group of people around her, before patting her elephant gently on the neck, just before where she sat. It amused her that this was part of her Legend - that she, and presumably the rest of her soldiers, rode elephants as if they were horses. It was a tad more difficult than that, but she wasn’t complaining. “Easy, Fil. Easy.”
After a moment, the elephant stopped moving, and with a thought she dematerialized him, letting herself fall to the ground. Her purple cloak also vanished, which she wasn’t quite happy with, but she’d survive. The click of her shoes against the steel below was followed with the soft brushing of fabric against the ground. Her dress was too long, but there was only so much she could do. She closed her eyes, letting her Magic Resistance fight off the traces of Prana around her. Indeed, they were from the direction of the oldest of the non-Servants in the room. Turning to him, she knelt, and looked into his eyes, a smile dancing on her lips. She was glad to finally be doing something. “Rider-Class Hannibal Barca of Carthage. I ask you, are you my Master?”