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Vinsfeld Rhadamanthus (Wild Arms 2) |
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Two leaders, both possessed of shining silver hair, a steely will and flunkies of indeterminate gender. That's where the similarties end, though as Vinsfeld is a thousand times the man Serph is. A leader who doesn't speak!? What a sad joke. How will the world at large learn about the Embryon's -Pure Ideals- if no one can hear about them? This is simply pathetically unfitting. The universe knows of the greatness of Vinsfeld and has heard of it at length. No one will ever mistake the idle ramblings of whatever Serph stands for with the UNERRING TRUTH of Vinsfeld. Serph will quickly learn to fear Vinsfeld's wrath, as a mute has no chance to match the might of Odessa's commander! |
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Serph just loves the DL. After all, where else would he get so many fine delicacies brought right to him for sampling? That flank of lizard he just devoured. What did they call it? Oh right, a Shiba? Delightful. Of course, as an Atma demon, Serph’s stomach always seems to be empty. Vinsfield may claim to have pure ideals, but Serph is betting that all he really has is pure flavor. As always, Serph will first freeze him with his deadly Bufudyne and superior speed - supported by excellent durability thanks to his ability to choose his own stats - and then he’ll dig in, like a delicious sorbet made of pure ideals. What better way to prime himself for this season's finale feast than a soothing dessert, after all? |
Bardiche White. The ceiling was annoyingly white. Vinsfeld blinked once or twice. It was immaculately white. Almost painful on the eyes. How long had he been here? He didn't know. Time had become meaningless to him. He only cared about the ceiling. White. Pure. It reminded him of his ideals. It reminded him of this sinful world that needed to be purged of its impurities. But the ceiling was so white. Who had painted this ceiling? White. It was so incredibly white. Vinsfeld gave a sigh. His match was going to begin. Then again, this ceiling was pure white. Like his ideals. It reminded him of his ideals. He was fond of those ideals. To hell with the match. White. Vinsfeld Rhadamanthus: 13 |
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