[color=c4df9b][b]Berserker(?) Gilles de Rais
Foreigner's Lowlands[/b][/color][hr]

[color=c4df9b]"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"[/color]

[i]Memories of a friend, that outstretched hand, a boy too young to hold a weapon, that maiden's smile.[/i]

The veins upon his forehead seemed ready to pop from the sheer rage he was experiencing. He could not, WILL NOT, be defeated by such creatures! Bad feelings or not, divine or not, he will struggle and roar against the very heavens until these things were torn apart. With such feelings came strength, a voice, power within his limbs that he did not expect.

[i]Memories of a friend, that outstretched hand, a boy too young to hold a weapon, that maiden's cry.[/i]

Power, encouragement from an old friend, yet he was not trying to escape. Or rather, they went too close to him, in his state of mind, where upon nothing would be above consideration. No tactic would be too bold, too brash. His mind hurts, but he cannot stop now. Gilles did not escape the Lyaeus, but instead grabbed it with all his newfound might.

[i]Memories of a dear friend, that limp hand, a boy too young to fight, that maiden's cry.[/i]

[color=c4df9b]"Hear me, my loyal servants, for our victory is at hand! We attack them with all our might! IT IS THE MARSHALL'S ORDER! IT IS THE MARSHALL'S SIEGE ORDER!"[/color]

An army appeared, large enough to cover the field, a besieging force that brought a large amount of cannons. But... Each soldier, whereas they looked normal yet slightly off before, now was visibly [i]cracking[/i] in their shape. Unbroken, but truly odd, with some warping into mind bending shapes. Their weapons had visible tentacles upon it, though it retained their shapes. It took but the instant the Noble Phantasm to be called, for the army to appear, and in that instant attack, numerous cannons firing not only upon Gilles's position and the other Lyaeuses near him, but any other within cannon range due to the sheer number of cannons summoned.

But yet, within, an action parallel to Gilles' was also taking place, the fluttering of pages and the chanting taking on an ominous tone, as if feeling threatened. The visions of impossible shapes was but a flash, as it seemed to call out, crying for attention.

Flaming tentacles burst out of Gilles, as if in response to the fluttering and chanting. One shot out towards the silent Lyaeus, stretching to impossible burning lengths, as several wrapped around the one nearest to him, trying to crush it within its burning grasp with terrible strength. 

[i]Memories of a dear friend, a decayed hand, a boy too young to fight back, that maiden's crackling upon the fire.[/i]