#alt!meme

[motherfuckingherooftheiliad]

Alt! please

Instead of doing constructive stuff a lot of the time I make OC Servants. So far I’ve got Diomedes, who has her own blog, Rene Descartes, an amalgamation of every individual sentenced to death for the “crime” of “being a witch”, Indrajit, a few others and the subject in the limelight: Kriemhild. This is a longass thing so I’m putting it under a readmore for everyone’s sake

Background first, Kriemhild, for those of you not in the know, was the wife of Siegfried. She was referred to as Gudrun in the Poetic Edda but for the sake of convenience, they’re kinda sorta the same person here. After Brynhildr and a few other people conspired to kill Siegfried, Kriemhild took the loss badly and began her revenge which is almost as much of a focus of the story as Siegfried’s slaying of Fafnir. She kills a lot of people and is eventually killed and it all loops back to that fat stack of loot that transformed Fafnir in the first place.

Kriemhild is one of those oddball Servants wherein good fucking luck summoning her in a vanilla grail war. She’s pretty much only eligible for Avenger and when she’s in there hoo boy, you’d best be prepared for shit to hit the fan.

I suppose her bio is relevant now so I’ll do that and then describe her personality.

Kriemhild: Avenger

STR: B   MAN: AEND: C   LUK: -AGI: C      NP: A

Height: 170cmWeight: 60kgs

Class Skills:Avenger: A: The path of vengeance is a bloody one, embodied by this skill that forces a Luck Rank down on all around Avenger.Oblivion Correction: B: Revenge is served without mercy and without impunity. Saving Throws by Avenger and her enemies will be guaranteed to fail.Self Replenishment: A: Restores Avengers Mana at a constant rate.

Personal Skills:Golden Rule: E-: As the wife of Siegfried, Avenger received the treasure of the Niebelungs after her husband’s death, however, her loss of the treasure and the cursed nature of it mean that this skill is low ranked.

Princess of Loveliness: A-: Revered as the most beautiful woman in Europe in life, Kriemhild’s beauty is enough to make all but the hardest of hearts falter at the thought of harming her. Many a virtuous hero however, will see past her beauty and see the once meek princess’s true self, a monstrous incarnation of vengeance.

Noble Phantasms:

Balmung: The Betrayer of Heroes’ Execution - A rank - Anti Unit.

The Dragon Slaying Greatsword of her husband, in Avenger’s hands, Balmung’s function is far different. The Ether around Balmung increases with Avenger’s own hatred. To a foe she feels apathy towards, it is only a sword, wielded gracelessly but against a foe who has earned her hatred, it is a ceaseless maelstrom of destructive energy.

----

That Noble Phantasm sounds similar to another one doesn’t it? Yep, it’s the inverse of Brynhild Romantia. On the subject of Brynhild, she’s probably the person Kriemhild hates the most.

Kriemhild is very cold. She doesn’t show a whole lot of emotion and she carries the air of someone who is only living out of some kind of obligation most of the time. She believes that she was justified in her vengeance but at the same time believes that she forfeited every right she had to happiness in carrying it out.

Kriemhild’s two main emotional states are depressed and furious. She can feel happiness, it’s just really hard for her to feel it and part of her doesn’t want to feel happy, what’s the point when you’re just going to feel sad later?

----

So what’s stopping me from RPing her? It’s that there’s not enough in my opinion. There’s enough there that I can call her a character and consider RPing her somewhere down the line, but I just don’t think I’ve got enough to be able to write her continuously and with multiple different characters. There are characters I’d love to see her interacting with (mostly the Yanderes or the crazy ones.) Maybe somewhere down the line, when I feel like I can easily do more with a character like her, then you might see.

Anyway, this is done, so back to things that actually matter, like those starters!

[brendan-block]

alt! ((I MISS YA))

Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve RPed in the past, want to play in the future, or are currently playing somewhere else!

–Matthieu de Chauveilles (Original Character)

Matthieu didn’t consider himself a rude person. Cruel? Yes. Sadistic? He prided himself on it. But rude? Never. He saw himself as an exceptionally kind and generous man, particularly where his friends were concerned. That was why, after brutally slaughtering all of the cattle that dared to call themselves Brendan’s dinner guests, that he allowed his stupid little party to continue with someone more deserving of eating with him. He was even going to take it upon himself to write out a new guest list for him! Was that not kind and generous? After all, it simply would have been too difficult for his poor Brendan. How would he ever manage when he was bound and gagged at the dinner table?

“What do you think of Reianna, mon fils?” Matthieu asked. He knew full well that Brendan couldn’t reply, just like he knew those pretty amber eyes of his were burning with rage and watching his every move. He also knew that Brendan believed that he was being unfair to him, but Matthieu would show him how wrong he was. He would remind Brendan that he knew best. He ripped a small piece of note paper from a clip on the refrigerator, then carefully removed a pen from the blood-soaked apron of a hired caterer whose corpse he’d left hanging there. He stared at her as he slipped the pen into his mouth, his tongue expertly curling around the tip to pry its cap off while he admired his handiwork. The woman had been flayed alive, her flesh skillfully carved off her face, neck, and chest in one long bloody slab that he’d then cut up and put back on. He forced her to wear her own skin like a grotesque and ill-fitted costume, which he was nice enough to secure for her with a butcher’s knife shoved through her skull. It killed her, unfortunately, but it was the thought that counted, right?

It was a shame that she had been beautiful. Matthieu could admit that, even though she fit more to Brendan’s standards than his own. He knew his friend had wanted her, that he’d been waiting all night to fuck her in a dark corner somewhere. That’s why he had to kill her. She wasn’t worthy of his Brendan. She was cattle, just like all the other bodies that now littered the apartment. Cattle were only ever meant to be tortured and killed. Not given the privilege of being taken to bed! He thought he’d gotten that through to Brendan years ago, but it was clear he hadn’t learned. Perhaps he never would.

With pen and paper Matthieu rejoined Brendan at the dinner table. He pushed a limb-less, severed torso out of the chair closest to him (a low-level politician, he recalled; his wife and young daughter’s bodies were similarly dismembered in the bath down the hall), then sat down and started to write. He took his time making up the list and made sure it appeared as though he were writing a slew of names, even though in reality he was only writing one. Reianna. He wrote it again and again, until the paper was so covered with it that it looked completely black from all the ink. Only then did he slide it over for Brendan to see. “I’ve not forgotten that day at the café. When you nearly bled out in the backseat of my car with that woman at your side. Votre putain de petite rousse!” He laughed heartily at the alarm his words incited within his dear Brendan’s eyes and the rapid, muffled protests that came flying from his covered lips, and playfully patted his cheek.

“Hush, chéri. I have no intention of adding her to the tally. I merely want to test her the same as I did these disgusting cows.” He motioned to the few mutilated corpses that still occupied a seat around the dinner table and smiled. “If I find her lacking, then I’ll kill her! You know I could never let you be friends with someone who might not protect you or love you as I do..” With this last statement Matthieu leaned over to Brendan, purposefully breaching past the barrier of personal space to press his body close, and slipped a hand deep into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve his cellphone. “If I were you I would start praying,” he breathed against his ear. “We’ll be forced to continue this little session privately if she doesn’t answer me, and I’m afraid I simply don’t have enough time before my flight home to provide appropriate satisfaction. I would.. hate.. to leave you trussed up, all slick and gushing, for your pretty little maids to find in the morning. You just might bleed to death! And I just might be sad for it, mon fils bien-aimé..”

[shado-keisatsu-archive-blog]

Alt.

http://mech-of-many-talents.tumblr.com/

The dark seeker regarded the femme imperiously, frowning. “What brings you to this mudball, Autobot? Dragging the vestiges of your war all the way out here?” His claws ticked impatiently on the head of his cane. He had come here after learning that there were a few Cybertronian holdouts one Earth. That was something that could… benefit him, especially if they were the sorts who weren’t quite as finished with the war as everyone else. Elita, however–and most Autobots, as it turned out–were of no value to him. He didn’t need them exerting their nobler-than-thou attitudes while he was trying to work. “I don’t think I have anything of interest to you. Move along. You’re wasting my time. I have precious little patience for staying on this filthy organic planet.”

[shado-keisatsu-archive-blog]

Alt!

http://mech-of-many-talents.tumblr.com/

Eugh, Earth. There were certainly things the seeker appreciated about the planet, but organic life was not one of them. He landed, finding this human female in an unlikely place. Blast… he had expected Heister to make sure that the area he had landed his vessel in would be clear of indigenous life.

He’d have to clear it out himself, he supposed.

He looked down at the girl and pointed the barrel of his rust cannon at her. “You are in the wrong place at the wrong time, ma chere. Why don’t you explain quickly why I should let you walk away from here after seeing me land?”

[shado-keisatsu-archive-blog]

"alt!"

http://mech-of-many-talents.tumblr.com/

An alert from Stratosflame’s console disturbed him from his work on a mod at his workbench. How unusual. He wasn’t used to being hailed like this.

He walked over to the control panel of his vessel and opened the frequency. Familiar signature...

“This is Stratosflame of the Phantom Ray. You’ve found a private frequency, mon ami. Have we met, or are you here for business?”

[brendan-block]

"alt!"

Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve roleplayed in the past, want to play in the future, or are currently playing somewhere else!

–David Talbot (The Vampire Chronicles)

“Yours is not a face I recognise. Who let you in here?” The man behind the desk looked up from the leather-bound tome he’d been absorbed in reading, though he did not look directly at the young woman standing before him. He stared past her, to the shadow slinking back down the hallway from whence it came. Though he did not see who it was, David knew he need only reach out with his mind to get the answer as telepathy was a gift among many of the Talamasca’s members. But that too was quickly deemed unnecessary when his head suddenly filled with imagery from the other’s mind. It was a memory they both shared; flashes passed between them of David talking in the hall to a spindly woman in yellow reminding him then, much as she was now, that she was not his secretary. She’d brought the young woman to him for a scheduled meeting he had forgotten. David frowned. That he had forgotten at all was a fact more shameful than it was troublesome. No one ever met with the Talamasca’s leader if their case against the paranormal was not a truly serious one - unless of course the person stole into his offices like a certain infamous vampire so enjoyed doing, but that was neither here nor there. Regardless these matters demanded better of David and so did the woman still standing idly at the center of the room.

“I apologise. Your sudden presence was merely a surprise to me. The result, I’m afraid, of a lapse in memory for today’s meeting,” David admitted to her openly upon collecting himself. His book now set aside, the scholar rose from his seat and extended his hand. “David Talbot. Please, have a seat.” He motioned towards one of the two plush armchairs at the head of his desk before sitting back down again and giving his eyeglasses a quick adjustment. "I don’t normally give personal audiences, but as I understand it the information you carry is truly extraordinary.”