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Fandom Fate/Cross

QuirkyAngel

QuirkyAngel

White Masquerade's Blue Oni
The year is 2015 and the Holy Grail War has started again. Unbeknownst to the residents of London, England, their beloved city will become the battleground for a secret war that will determine the fate of the world.






th






Who will win this time? And what will the result be?





Servants

Saber-Sharur(@Metaphysics)


Berserker-Diomedes(@tronethiel7)


Assassin-Calamity Jane(@Metaphysics


Tabitha Lin- @Metaphysics [/b]


@JusticeSword


@Orihara


@Huntrey


@QuirkyAngel


@tronethiel7


RP will begin Weds 2/25

​
 
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Ernest Chapman (London, England)

Even though it was only 4pm in the afternoon, the skies of London, England were a murky, somber shade due to the storm clouds that covered the sun. Ernest couldn’t help, but feel a sense of foreboding as he made his way back to Saint Mary Magdalene church—as if the darken sky was a sign of disaster that was yet to come. Admittedly, Ernest had been of bad humor as of late. Ever since he learned that the Holy Grail War would be held in London, the red-head had been plagued with terrible nightmares.

He knew of the Holy Grail War, of course. As a priest and former executor of the Holy Church, Ernest knew about the existence of the grail and the wars that followed it; He knew of the 7 masters who would be chosen to fight for grail every 50 years and the 7 servant’s they’d summon; He knew of the power of the grail and its ability to bring either fortune or destruction to the world; He’d known all that, and yet, Ernest had never thought such matters had anything to do with him. Until now.

Ernest’s fists clenched against the steering wheel of his green Volkswagen as he drove through the rural parts of London. He was determined to focus his mind on the dirt road and not on his frustration at his elders in the Assembly of the Eight Sacrament, whom he had just met an hour before. Only his unwavering faith in the Holy Church had kept Ernest from obstinately refusing the Assembly’s order to become the mediator of the upcoming Holy Grail War. It wasn’t like he couldn’t understand their reasoning. Ernest was a practicing priest in London as well as an affiliate of the Assembly of the Eight Sacrament and former executor. It was much easier to assign him the job than send someone else. That didn’t mean he had to like it. The residue ache from the transfer of command seals to his body—seals that the church had apparently collected from the previous wars— did not help matters in the least.

Ernest felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate when the white-wooden walls of St. Mary Magdalene Church came into sight. The building wasn’t much to look at. Its small size made it resemble a chapel more than a church and the paint had on the walls had grown dull over the years. Admittedly, Ernest hadn’t thought much of the small church when he first worked there as a pastor. He had only used it as a means to escape his own weakness…his sin of allowing a foul demon to corrupt his soul. However, over time, Ernest grew to love the building that, though few of members, housed people of honest, simple faith.

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Easing his vehicle into the spot reserved for church ministers, Ernest made his way to the front of the holy temple…and froze. Instinctively, he let the throwing knives he had hidden away in the sleeves of his robes slide into the palm of his hand. His years of experience as an executor allowed him to sense the presence of an intruder it his church. Whoever it was had enough power to bypass his holy wards. Was it a thief who had come after the Holy Grail? A demon? Ernest felt his blood run cold at the thought. If a demon managed to get its hands on the Holy Grail who knew what horrors it could inflict on the world?

Cautiously, Ernest slipped into the church, prepared to skewer the intruder or die trying, only to blink in surprise. The young priest took off his glasses and rubbed them clean just to be sure he was not seeing things. Sleeping against the altar, where the Holy Grail was placed, was a beautiful woman, voluptuous and too ethereal to be human. Blanketed by her long silver hair and the warm glow of her skin, she appeared more like an angel than anything Ernest had ever seen. Ernest must have made a sound because the woman shifted, her lashes slowly opening to reveal deep mahogany eyes.

The woman stretched for a moment, appraising her surroundings, before her curious gaze landed on Ernest. Ernest tightened his grip on his knives.

“Who are you?” The priest demanded. “What are you doing here?”

The woman tilted her head, seeming to consider Ernest. Then a beatific smile blossomed across her face, catching Ernest off guard. “I know who you are. I’ve often heard your prayers, you see.” Nodding her head at the confused look on Ernest’s face, the woman stood up and Ernest finally noticed the staff she’d been clutching. “You may call me Ruler and I am here because the grail wills it…because this war will be like no others before it.”

Ruler? As in the Servant class Ruler? Ernest’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Ruler shot him a sympathetic smile. “Can’t you feel it? The power stirring within the grail?”

Ruler caressed the golden chalice, her delicate fingers brushing over the grail like a lover. Ernest watched her closely, but Ruler seemed to have no desire to take the grail from its current resting place. It made sense, he supposed. From what he had read from the holy texts, the Ruler Servants where chosen specifically for their lack of desire for the Holy Grail. They were the Servants occasionally summoned by the Grail to oversee the Holy Grail War and ensure its safe progression.

“The Servants summoned to the war this time will not be ordinary ones. They’ll have the power to tear the world asunder. The Grail feels it. And thus it summoned me.”

Ernest didn’t know how to respond.

More Below
​



Round 1 Begins

​



@vlgwlf

 

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Zaphiel Conway - Outskirts of London

​






  • A young blonde male stood in the middle of a small trail denoted by trampled grass. Said trail led to a modest home constructed of old red brick; it was normally inhabited by a nice couple of people who loved the fresh country air and had the need to get away from the pace of their everyday city living. Now only Zaphiel lingered, as he had asked these people -his parents- to remove themselves from the country while the event of the decade took place.


    ​



    The Holy Grail War.

    ​






    The greatest of skirmishes for any distinguished magus. Although only seven fought, the violence displayed in this event was enough for it to gain the title of a full fledged war... And rightly so, since the reward for defeating the rest was a wish from the divine vessel itself. Zaphiel had the honor to participate as a representative of his family and the possibility to claim arcane knowledge so powerful, that his name would be recorded in eternity as one of the Sorcerers who managed to perform a miracle.


    As the cigarette between his lips burned, he snapped out of the trance induced by the clouds above him and adjusted his trenchcoat, shaking his head in an attempt ground himself once more.     'Enough distractions.' he thought, as he threw the now diminished cigar to the floor and stomped on it, making sure it was completely extinguished before heading back inside his childhood residence.


    Zaphiel entered the familiar foyer and hung his coat on the rack, as the inside of the residence was quite warm. He hurried up the stairway and into the attic, where he had set up the proper materials for the summoning of that which would make him a true participant of the Grail War: his Servant.


    The ritual was pretty basic, it consisted of a magic circle constructed in quicksilver and very subtle illumination via candlelight here and there. This was just a formality, but he wanted to make it feel like he was actually summoning it and not just helping the Holy Grail attach it to him as a Master. There was one thing he had to make up for though, and that was the lack of a catalyst; as his family had no important connections in the mage community, he wasn't able to procure an object that acted as a beacon to a specific Heroic Spirit and therefore had to improvise by using an Aria.


    'You can do it Zaphiel.' he told himself as he lifted his open palm towards the magic circle, finally making his lips part and letting out a bellowing chant that came from the very depths of his soul.





    "You who lives at the edge of existence"







    "And watches over mankind"







    "Grant me the power to defeat those who stand against us."





    "Heed the Grail, answer my call!"







    The pattern drawn on the ground glowed a bright blueish white and small bolts of lightning shot throughout the air; he stood firm, but felt his strength diminishing as something drained it from him, but at the same time he sensed a powerful connection being forged. His magic circuits were ablaze, sending him warnings over and over as he was about to reach limit.


    Suddenly the light grew brighter as the prana drain faltered, making him fall to his right knee while he closed his eyes to shield himself from the radiance. An immense presence filled the room, making the once hot magic circuits feel warm in comparison to the chill that ran through him due to the thing that had just crossed the makeshift gate he built.


    He gulped audibly, eyes still welded shut due to the ritual, and asked in a loud tone:




    "You who has taken up the cause... State your class and allegiance!"

    ​





@Proxy
 
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Sharur - Outskirts of London

From the depths of the throne, Sharur received the calling of the grail. Within the vast stream of time so moved by humanity and so disintguished by heroes, Sharur lay at the starting point, the flume by which the cusp of heroic aptitude flowered and branched. The primordial guardian of humanity that had fended off the wrath of the first earth mother. Across the vast space of time, the spiritual being known as Sharur traversed, ending up several millennium away to the present age. Knowledge filled Sharur's being, imparting the intricacies inherent to the advancement of mankind.

The light formed from the summoning collapsed upon the center of the summoning circle upon Sharur's summoning, contracting upon itself in a near instant. The illumination that the light had provided dissipated, crushed by darkness which beckoned to the natural singularity of return. Sharur lay on the center of the circle of silver, a heroic spirit and yet one vastly unlike the others. Upon the circle lay a magnificent creation of war, one impossible to reconstruct by human hands that emanated a royal air of significance. A supporting base and grip of sleek black metal so polished as to reflect the interior of the abode clearly, as if it was the purest of fresh water bodies. At its head was an ornately decorated axe head of silver and gold; both ores scintillated with an utter beauty incomprehensible, glistening with wonder and majesty, reflecting candlelight into brilliant sparkles of resplendent splendor that lighted up the entire room. Despite such godly craftsmanship that naturally heralded indomitable beauty, the perfect cutting edge of the axe head, infallibly sharp polished, made it known that Sharur was no artifact to gawk at as an accessory. It was a destructive ornament of war, the jewel of the battlefield that even the greatest warriors would behold in envious awe.

"........."

No response was given to Zaphiel by Sharur. A weapon would always be a weapon, and Sharur accepted its existence as one. It would not deviate from its path as a tool to be wielded by the spirit of humanity, a true heroic spirit in every sense of the word. Only one that bore a poise grand enough to utilize weapons not as a crutch to produce capacity as does modern weaponry in the current world, but as a mere supplement to inherent drive and strength, would be respected with the human value of communication that Sharur was known for. All Zaphiel needed to finish the contract was to merely grip Sharur, and commands made through the Servant Master link would be obeyed by Sharur as long as they fit within the boundaries of Sharur's capacity as a weapon.​



@FewUtherClockKlik
 
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Ariel Terrel|Summoning Servant|Outskirts of London, Forest Area, Terrel Mansion


Current Hitpoints



Mansion_by_AeroCloud.jpg



Ariel clasped her hands together and wrung them in satisfaction as she gazed at the summoning circle she had created. Her eerily luminescent eyes of teal green effused an ethereal light fueled by excited anticipation. This was it. The moment she was going to enter the grail war. For what cause? Well if Ariel's cause was to be summed up, it would be simply to pad her pride by giving her more illusory prestige. Of course, she was no arrogant recognition mongering fool, and her family's disconnect with the Association meant that any sort of recognition she received here wouldn't be recognized to any greater authority. In the first place, coming out on top of a mad ritual against far less developed mages was something not to be entirely wholly proud of. The fact that Ariel had procured a catalyst for the greatest and oldest hero was also not helping any sort of prospect for gaining hard earned prestige. But who knows? Perhaps Ariel would have to exert herself.


That does leave the question of Ariel's real purpose in joining the war. Perhaps for a distant wish? Foolish. Ariel did not believe in such a dubious concept as some golden wish giving cup. Yes, she had entered in this slaughter fest for her family. But no, she did not contemplate any real gain of significance or tangible wealth. She did not join for what the word FAMILY stood for to a traditional magus, no, she joined for a FAMILY as it stood for to a normal person. Real, loving and personal people that had passed down a legacy that Ariel had cherished as the greatest of memories, the pride instilled within her that had bred her avid desire to bring honor to her family not as a house of mages but as a house of true and connected kin. To that end, Ariel had attempted to secure her absolute victory in this war. She was not prepared to go to drastic or violent measures, nor was she capable of sulking in shadows to maximize direct combat potential as it would stain her name and by extension her family. In truth, she was quite afraid. She did not quite conceptualize the monumental consequence of death as most impulsive young people do, but she still understood instinctively that it was something to fear. Prospects of combat did not liven her mood, and in fact dragged her down into endless ruminations brought upon by nervousness. Ariel possessed overwhelming power as a magus, and she had prepared a servant with overwhelming power, all to compensate for her wariness that sprung from a weak confidence.


Ariel took in a deep breath and eyed her catalyst with a smile. A broken piece of aged gold that had once been part of a throne with cuneiform markings that spelled out the line, "King of Heroes".


She exhaled. Her thoughts left her as her stream of consciousness steadied and stabilized. Doubt and fear and nervousness and inhibition all streamed out and flowed and sputtered in a grand exodus. With a mind focused, she began the chant to summon the legendary king,


"Silver and iron to the origin.


Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.


Let the descending winds become a wall.


Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.


Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.


Five perfections for each repetition.


And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!


—Set.


Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy bow.


If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!


—I make my oath here.


I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.


I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.


Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,


come past thy restraining rings,


O keeper of the balance—!”


An explosion of light erupted from the summoning circle as Ariel awaited the sight of the timeless king of heroes.





@Elegy
 
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In the depths of the Throne, there was a King. A King who believed in his ideals, and by them was driven into despair. A King with a heart full of regret, lamenting the downfall of a kingdom...


The gaudy, garishly bright light of the summoning circle reached its climax, drowning the room within a radiance so stunning, so glorious, so majestic, and so unmatched in this modern day that even the cherubim and seraphim weeped at its splendor. The circle was a beacon in the dark, a shining pinnacle of salvation and desire of those with the will to see their dreams through. As the ephemeral luminescence faded, an even great, godlike brilliance revealed itself unto this impure, pathetic world of men. The figure was adorned in the most fabulous and lustrous of armors stood out within that room as a golden star, a star equal to that which split Heaven and Earth; nay, greater than even that. In the timeless words a certain scarred lion in the 1994 rip-off of Hamlet made by Disney:


Long live the King.


"Mongrel, who gave you right to gaze upon me?"


...But this was not that King.


The inquisitive words of the King reverberated through the room, the sound drenched in 'peerless authority' and 'complete confidence'. The Mesopotamian Hero-King stared down at his "Master" - What a joke. Such a concept was purely a delusion on her part. After all, nobody was greater than the King - with a disdainful look from divine eyes of crimson.


...No, this was a King with but one regret: that he could not stop the death of his cherished friend. A kingdom was unnecessary, for the whole world was his garden; and the humanity, his fruit....


The Servant Archer stood tall, flaxen hair directed skyward. His armor did not clang clumsily with his measured movements, but rang out like the song of a harp. His gaze, sharper than any sword within the Golden Capital, assessed the woman before him. "Magus, it appears that your craft is untouched by any of this age's taint," Gilgamesh said simply, tone indicating merely a statement of facts rather than any intent to praise, "You will be an adequate anchor to this world. For now."


...But rotten fruit has no place in the garden of the King. And that which has no place must be culled.





The King of Heroes strode past the magus and vanished into spirit form.


@The Suspicious Eye
 

Tabitha Lin- Outskirts of London (more specifically on a roof in the middle of somewhere..)




Her long red hair sparked the sky as the wind took it up. Tabitha looked at the the dreary London scenery from the tops of a roof. She sighed at the scenery, "So monotone, I miss the vibrant colors of China or the lush harvest smells of Ireland." She was deep in thought as she scoured the land looking for her destination. She sighed looking down at a very dated map of London. She turned it from left to right trying to figure out where she was. She heard the sounds of a crowd form beneath her. She folded the map and put it in her pocket. Gracefully she hopped down from the rooftop and landed with ease. The crowd stepped back as she stood up. Tabitha tossed her hair and looked at the crowd before pushing through the crowd.​



She continued to walk down a street she has chosen by chance. She thought about why she has come to London. The Holy Grail War, the war in which the winner receives any wish their heart desired. Her goal was to win this competition and wish for her family to be successful. Tabitha however was not one to bend to the will of her family, so easily. She didn't know what she planned to wish if she won, but she wanted it to benefit others, rather than those with her family's name. She continued to make her way down a few more streets until she made her way to a nice old hotel. She pulled out her map and looked back up to the old hotel. Folding the map up once again she smiled, "well this must be it." She slowly opened the doors and entered into the hotel. There was a beautiful string of energy flowing through the old building. She could almost feel it crackle against her hands as she walked to the check in desk. As Tabitha appraised the woman behind the desk looked up.


"Welcome, how may I help you?" The clerk asked her voice bright and chipper. It startled Tabitha for a moment, she wasn't expecting someone so cheerful. Taking a few seconds to regain composure as she spoke.


"Yes I ordered a room here. It should be under Zukari."


Tabitha watch the woman turn to a computer and begin scrolling down to her name. when the woman found it she perked up and spoke "yes you are in room 282 would you like your bags to be delivered up there?"


Tabitha smiled and shook her head "no these are all the belongings I need for this journey, I have no other bags." The clerk handed her her key and showed her to the elevators Tabitha nodded and smiled to the woman thanking her for her services. Instead of taking the elevator she decided to take the stairs making her way up to the second floor. When she reach room 282 she pulled the key and entered. the room was small but had all the necessities bathroom, bed, sink and a nice view of the city of London.


She was curious how it would look from the rooftop and decided to investigate. She grabbed her bag and took the stairs all the way up to the rooftop acess. She was amazed by the lovely view. The hotel may not have been the tallest place in London, but it did have a breaking view of the city. After taking a few minutes to look at the city taking in its natural beauty how is it turned her attention back to the roof. "I suppose now is a good time to summon her." Tabitha reached into her bag and pull out the necessary equipment for summoning. She proceeded to draw the necessary items for summoning. When everythung was ready she pulled her hair back and began the ritual.


"She who pierced the side of Christ entwined herself with his blood through her eyes.


Cured of all evil, sees all that is to be seen. Seeker of truth, deliver of justice. Lend me your Lance. So that with a steady hand, we may Pierce the evils in this world.


Rise to the call of the Holy Grail. Rise to claim yor honor."


A warm light resonated from the circle as Tabitha waited for the Saint to appear.


@Metaphysics
 

Saint Longinus-Outskirts of London


HP: {||||}{||||}{||||}{||||}
​



From the depths of the Throne of Heroes a certain saint felt her summons. With refined agility and grace her form moved to answer her summons.


It was she who was tasked to ensure that the savior was dead.


It was she who dared to pierce The Holy One's side.


It was she that was given true sight and died for his cause.


As a martyr, as a saint.





It was then with a brilliant crimson flash of light that she appeared kneeling before her master. Her red fiery locks of hair moved gracefully to an unseen wind. Her armor was a myriad of silver and red with a black cloth. Her lance was held by her left hand, stabbing upon the earth. Her very presence felt divine. Then she slowly looked up to meet her Master's eyes.


"I am the wielder of The Spear of Destiny. I am the Giver of The Last Holy Wound. I am The Martyr of Cappadocia."


She rose to full height but kept her lance impaled upon the ground. "To your summons I have come, for this war I have been summoned. I am Saint Longinus, the Lancer for this War." She picked up her lance and placed it on her back. "And you have my lance."


@Hadeonfire
 

Clinton Reeves | Outskirts of London | Abandoned Industrial Site


Current HP


[IIII][IIII]



​



Inside one of the buildings in the abandoned industrial site. There was a silver haired man, smoking as he watched the summoning circle he made. He compared both the summoning circle he made and the paper which have the summoning circle, albeit smaller drawn on it.


"Looks like this is good enough." He said as he throws his cigarette to the ground and stomps it.


Clinton Reeves, the silver haired man. He was just an ordinary citizen without any apparent magus bloodline. His magical ability is pretty much minor and unrefined. He doesn't really get why he was chosen to be one of the participant of the Holy Grail War. He didn't bother to question why though.


"Alright then, let's get to it." He said after reading the directions for the summoning ritual. He held out his right palm towards the summoning circle.


"Uh..."


"You who were living on the edge of existence, watching over mankind, heed the grail, answer my call, and lend me your power to defeat those who stand against me."


The summoning circle glows bright as he finished the chant. When the light dims out, a being was now present at the center of the summoning circle.


"I am your Master for this war." He said towards the being that was summoned.


@Hungry Hungry Hobo
 
Servant Type: Assassin


HP: ⚀ ⚁ ⚂ ⚃


Master: Clinton Reeves


Location: Outskirts of London: Abandoned Industrial Site


Company: Clinton



Martha Jane Cannary - "Calamity Jane"
​



A gentle force tugged at her soul as she was being summoned. The spirit, roused from its state of dormancy, couldn't help but smile. Quickly she bounded away from her celestial home to answer the call of duty.


A brief flash of light greeted her as she manifested back on the material plane. The smell of metal and earth was the first thing she noticed as she kept her head bowed down so the brim of her hat covered her eyes. Then she heard a voice. His voice. He called himself her 'Master,' but she clicked her tongue in annoyance of the word.


"Partner," she corrected promptly. With an index finger she pushed up against her hat as she looked towards the man with a cheeky grin. "Yer my partner fer this war. Ah'll fight fer ya, but there ain't no runnin' solo in this round up." Weaving her glove-covered fingers together she reached over her head to stretch as she took in her surroundings. There was no fancy or elaborate setup, nor were there any hints of lavish living. For all intents and purposes it looked as if they were in an abandoned building of some sort. Despite this her smile held. Jane was used to a rough, and rustic life. Not having gilded decorations or fancy red carpets everywhere was just fine with her. Finally her gaze returned to the man before her.


"Assassin, at yer-.. er, at your service." Taking her hat off in one hand she bowed with a flourish of the headdress, exaggerating the motions in accordance with her playful nature. When she straightened back up she replaced her hat back on her head. An index finger moved up to her lips in a gesture for silence as she winked up at the male. "Martha Jane Cannary, or Calamity Jane as friends call me. But.. Let's keep that our little secret. Can't have the others figuring that out now can we?"


The stark change in her accent might have been sudden, but Jane knew the importance of keeping her identity as a servant a secret. She could feel that she wasn't in America anymore so talking properly would help her blend in more easily if she needed to. Also, she wasn't even sure if her new employer could understand her otherwise. She patted the two revolvers holstered on her belt, ignoring the rifle slung on her back for now.


"I can keep you covered, but try not to get either of us killed, deal?"


@Metaphysics
 



images

She had come a long way for this. For so long her dream had been merely just that, a dream. A mere fantasy that would have held no fruition even after an eternity...if she were a mere mortal. She was a magus! A very young one to boot and that made her dream...an eyelash away from impossibility.
Alabaster Cadmia-Rundown Musuem


\||||\\||||\



"Ugh, I'm shooting my dream down again." She said, shaking her head and making her long strands of white hair flow gracefully.


The stairs creaked as she made her way down to the first floor. She had been wondering around, checking for anything that might cause a disturbance or make her lose focus on the ritual. This was a one time thing for a generation and if she screwed up her summoning she shouldn't have even bothered trying in the first place. Then she'd fail as a magus then as a swordswoman then before anyone knew it she'd be-


"Gaaah! Stop thinking about those things!" She exclaimed as she banged her head into a wall. "Let's get this started." She said as she pulled her head out the wall.


The circle had been prepared earlier. But she made it different by putting it on top of a leyline in hopes of getting a good servant. She stabbed Mercy into the ground and started to chant.


"Let silver and steel be the essence.


Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.


Let red be the color I pay tribute to.


Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.


Let the four cardinal gates close.


Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.


Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.


Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling."


She took a deep breath, she wasn't done yet. She had modified her chant to be very special using her books, movies and games as references.


"Let the Heavens cry out in your might.


Let the Earth carry your weight.


Hear me O Noble Spirit of the Grail.


You whose glorious existence ascended and ascertained legend.


We shall be the hammer that strikes the tempered fate of the world.


We shall be the sword that cleaves through doubt.


We shall be the spear that strikes fear through the hearts of the wicked.


Our twofold fate intertwined. Come forth from the Holy Grail! My Servant!"


@JusticeSword
 
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d2bKRur.jpg


HP: 5/5


Master: Alabastar Cadmia


Location: Ground floor of some building?


Company: Alabastar




The ground began to glow, shining bright like the chariots of Apollo as he led the Sun across the sky. Every single verse of the chant spoken was followed by a deep gong-like sound, and fire began to race around the circle, creating a volatile heat. The ground the circle was on crumbled beneath the circle, yet it eerily remained standing all the same. The smoke and heat began to give the allusion of the circle itself spinning an innumerable number of times. The bright light shone brighter, and brighter with even greater brilliance before suddenly echoing with a thunderous boom, shattering any glass within a good distance of the magic circle in all directions. It was only then that the light began to fade, and the summoned Servant of the Grail stood, kneeling before his Master with a gentle, peaceful smile. His...was the Servant even a he? The Servant's hairstyle seemed to say one thing, but the attire of the Servant, a simple sheet-like toga and necklace, seemed to say otherwise. His fair, beyond all mortal and even demigod, complexion was even more stunning and only provided even more confusion. The Servant soon stood, towering over his Master at a level probably not seen since Iskandar and Waver Velvet.


"I ask of you..." the Servant spoke in a gentle, firm voice. If he was a musician, he would easily be the top of the tenor section. "Are you my Master?" he asked, a staff appearing in his hand, with the other hand held out towards his Master. "If you are, it would be a pleasure to bring justice to this sorrowfully sinful world with you by my side."


@Orihara
 
Mike Addison: Mike's House

​









  • Mike Addison sat in front of the magic circle he'd drawn up to summon his servant. Everything was all set. The candles, the pentagram, the thingy... it was perfect! Now he just had to do the thing, say those words, and it would be complete. Mike grabbed his pocket knife from his blazer pocket and cut his hand open.


    Aaagh... uhh... I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a blood sacrifice?


    Mike let himself bleed out on the circle, wincing in slight pain. Then he started to chant.





    Uhhh...


    OHH COME FORTH YE SERVANT yeah I think that's right, that's totally right IN THE NAME OF uh SATAN or something AND HEAR MY PLEA! I SUMMON THOU to help me with the uh HOLY GRAIL WAR thingy FOR I AM THE BONE OF MY uh... bone.


    UH YEAH GET YOUR ASS UP HERE AMEN.





    Mike put a bandaid on his cut and waited for his servant to come from the circle.





    Yo, I totally nailed it. Definitely.







@Bills352
 



HP: 4/4


Master: Mike Addison


Location: Mike's house


Company: Mike




From the depths of the Throne of Heroes a demon was being summoned, with his defined rage and strength and he would answer the summoning to fight once again.


A clock of darkness seemed to fill the room as he appeared, darkness that showed the true color of what his heart was made by his gods, a clock of darkness any love was gone all that is left was a outer shell of hatred and anger. Taking a look at his hands he smirked he really was able to fight once again that's what he lived for now fighting, war he will reclaim the love of his gods or he will die trying. Looking at the only other person in the room he was rather short compared to the giant seven foot monster looking over him.


Diomedes knelt, the man in front of him must have been the one who summoned him, his master from this day forth, which meant Diomedes served him. "Diomedes son of Tydeus and Deipyle at your summoning I am here as the berserk." Diomedes said introducing himself before he placed his arm over his chest. "I Diomedes swear my oath of loyalty to you should I break it I shall take my own life as repentance." Diomedes added before standing. He was ready he wanted to fight more than anything his blood-lust was too much to handle he needed to fight he hadn't for too long, his body seemed to glow with a red taint floating in the air making him look like a real demon.


@Iris 8th
 
To be honest, Theresa isn't so sure if she ever wanted to take part in what-so-called the Holy Grail war. She kept asking hersef whether or not it was worth for her to risk her life in exchange for a single wish. She didn't have anything in particular in her mind. Normal life, normal health, loving family, and everything normal, except for the fact that she held a bit of magical power. Too normal for her to want to change.


And on top of that, her master said he didn't believe that she was ready for that gruesome war. A little child, with not much of magic potential, and not much of knowledge about the magical world, that had been creating a bloody road for generations. She knew he was right, and she understood his worry.


So, did she ever want to come down this path?


Maybe? Maybe not? She looked at her reflection on the mirror when walking up the staircase. Even in the dim light of the candle in her hand, she could see an expressionless face looking back at her. Not that she was good at hiding her true feelings, she thought that she just didn't have that much of feeling to show. She asked herself, did she ever truly want something, or have any motivation?


No ambitions, nor wishes. Not to rule the world, not conquer anything, not to help anyone. So why did she get magical power? Why did she have a chance to join the Holy Grail war, that was said to have very few participants, few chances and a wish guaranteed to be granted?


"Will you give me an answer, Holy Grail? Will you come to my side, in search for my destiny, oh the servant that would listen to my words and protect me with all your mind. From now on your path shall be my path and your destiny shall be mine to shoulder. Come forth, my destined partner."


As she finished drawing a magic circle on the terrace, she whispered those words to the flame she was holding, and set it into the drawing, let it burn fiercely and brightfully. Would someone response to her little magic? She stared at the flame, hearing her heart thumping loudly like never before.


@tronethiel7


 
St. Nick


HP: 4/4


Master: Theresa


Location: Teresa's Terrace


He answered the call. The servant that was nowhere and everywhere. By the grail's power was he drawn forth from the hearts of humanity. The spirits of love, compassion, and hope woven together into that being which had always been present, yet never quite realized. From these things was he formed, and in that moment his form anchored to a young girl. A voice resounded in the night, "I feel your hope for something more. It has drawn me. I sense your potential to dream, like the sun just below the horizon. It has compelled me to act. I know your intent, both young and pure. These I find acceptable and good. So shall it be!"


The flame of the candle grew to fill the circle's center, consuming the candle itself. It was now fueled by something far more potent than any wick. Sparks weaved about at the edges of the flame and then threads of light rose around it. The threads shot about the terrace, rapidly assembling into a cyclone of energy. In the center, a stone column rose to surround and contain the growing flame and and all of the threads snapped into place. There was silence and then a faint crackling. A gentle warmth settled over the terrace, which had changed quite a bit.


Where the terrace had once been was now a cozy little study. Books lined the old oak shelving and there was the faint scent of cinnamon hanging in the air. The fire that had grown from the candle now settled at the base of an inviting stone fireplace.


Nick looked up from one of the stuffed chairs that sat angled towards the fireplace. His thick snowy beard twitched about as the corners of his mouth rose. He spoke in a deep, posh voice, not unlike the one he had used earlier but much kinder now that all that summoning hogwash ha been settled. "Why, hello there child! I hope my entrance didn't give you too much of a scare." He rose, crossing over to the oaken desk that sat in the study's corner. "I do say we might have met under more pleasant circumstances...ah well, what is done is done," he said, rifling in one of the desk's drawers. "Ah, here we are." From the drawer, he drew a long stemmed pipe and a small velvet pouch. Returning to his chair, he deftly packed the pipe's bowl and set the tobacco aflame with a small spark from his finger.


He puffed away, his head disappearing into a sea of smoke. "Quite good, that," he grumbled in satisfaction. Pipe now in hand, he inspected the girl who sat across from him for a few moments and then beamed. "Yes, I think you'll do just fine! Indeed, I suppose you must be wondering who in the High Winter I am. Many are my names, child, but you may call me Nick. Now, why don't you sit down for a touch of milk and cookies before we get to business."


@QuirkyAngel
 

Ernest Chapman - St. Mary Magdalene Church

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_03/upload_2015-3-2_18-6-17.png.5ffb4def0cd736da4dab0d9e213afda9.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="44056" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_03/upload_2015-3-2_18-6-17.png.5ffb4def0cd736da4dab0d9e213afda9.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

Seated in a tiny pastor’s office at St. Mary Magdalene church, Ernest studied the manila folder on his desk, leisurely flipping through the neatly sorted documents. It contained a complete profile of all the Masters eligible for the 2015 Holy Grail War. As soon as they received news that command seals appeared on a magus, the members of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament immediately got to work researching the new Master. Everything from the Master's date of birth to their family history was recorded down in a precise and orderly fashion by the Church’s investigation squad.

It was necessary for the church to remain up-to-date on the on-goings of the Holy Grail War in order to protect civilians and ensure the secrecy of thaumaturgy. At least a majority of the participants were adult magi who were aware of what they were getting into. Several of them were not. Ernest sighed as he glanced at the photograph of a silver-haired, thirteen year old girl. To think, someone so young would be involved in this brutal war.

“Of course, none of this matters if they choose not to summon their servant,” Ernest mused aloud.

“Too late for that,”

Ernest blinked, reminded that he wasn’t the only one in his office. Ruler hadn’t made much noise while entertaining herself with his ipad so he had conveniently forgotten her presence. The silver-haired Servant looked very different dressed in modern clothes—a simple white Sunday dress that belonged to one of the nuns at St. Mary Magdalene Church and matching heels. Her abnormally long hair was twisted up and curled in a way to fit in with the current trends. Her earrings, which she had chosen herself, were a beautiful shade of aquamarine. The entire look, barring the dress, was paid for from Ernest’s own meager pockets.

Ernest rolled his eyes. Though all Servants summoned to the world should have recieved information about the era they were sent to from the Holy Grail, Ruler still insisted that Ernest show her around London. Apparently, knowing about the world didn’t equate to seeing it for herself. Ernest only complied because he didn’t want to make an enemy of Ruler and he hoped that by befriending her she would reveal her true name to him. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Ruler’s comment about hearing his prayers meant that her legend fell within Christianity or Catholicism…most likely a saint of some sort, though Ernest couldn’t say which one. He had prayed to a great many of them, after all.

“Care to elaborate?” Ernest asked when Ruler failed to follow up on her comment, instead choosing to return her attention to his ipad.

Ruler didn’t took up from the ipad. “All of the Servants have been summoned.”

It took a moment for Ruler’s words to register. When it did, Ernest shot up from his seat, startling Ruler. “You’re certain of this? How would you know? ”

Ruler frowned irritably. “I’m Ruler. Of course I know.”

“Then that means…,”

“The war has started,” Ruler finished with a dazzling grin.

Ernest slumped back into his seat and stared down at the photographed image of all the Masters participating in war. Which of these seven magi would get their wish granted?

Only time would tell.​



Special Events

Thank you for reading the rules!For all of you who posted your favorite animal on your character sheet, you've been awarded a miracle. More on the miracle dice can be read on the battle mechanics page


@Metaphysics


Above the rooftop of an unknown hotel in London, a beautiful crane soared through London’s dismal sky, drawn by the powerful magic of Saint Longinus’s summoning. It was large majestic bird, with beautiful white feathers that seemed to almost glow amidst the gray background. The creature circled the hotel…once…twice…thrice…before flying away, disappearing into the horizon. Saint Longinus obtains a miracle!


@Hungry Hungry Hobo


In an abandoned industrial site, hidden behind several large cylindrical pipes, a dull green alligator slept soundly, away from the interference of humankind. However, the resulting flash of light from Calamity Jane’s summoning woke the large reptile from its slumber. Irritated that its rest was disturbed, the alligator crawled back into the deep darkness of a nearby manhole. Calamity Jane obtains a miracle!


@Orihara


Leaping through an open window in Mike’s house, a small black cat curled underneath a table as it watched a human boy cut his hand open and began speaking nonsense. It didn’t understand why humans did silly things like injuring themselves. When the giant seven foot monster appeared, the black cat swiftly exited the way it came. Mike Addison obtains a miracle!


@FewUtherClockKlik


Outside of Terrel Mansion, a stray spotted dog circled the large structure, sniffing the ground for food. When a gaudy bright light shone through the window of the manor, the dog barked loudly, releasing several yelps and howls, before scampering off. Ariel Terrel obtains a miracle!


@Hadeonfire


A two-foot long stripped snake slithered through the cracks of an abandoned industrial site, looking for a bit of warmth. It reared upward and watched with cool indifferent eyes as the bright light of the summoning faded and Calamity Jane was revealed, swaying its body as if listening to a snake charmer’s flute. Then it coiled beneath a rock and fell asleep. Clinton Reeves obtains a miracle!


@vlgwlf


In the outskirts of London, near a small trail of trampled grass, a tiny dragonfly zipped back and forth above Zaphiel’s head, circling the human briefly before landing on a blade of grass. When the summoning ended, the insect flew away. Zaphiel Conway obtains a miracle!

Round 2 Begins!

​



@vlgwlf

 

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Zaphiel Conway - Outskirts of London

​









  • Zaphiel's eyelids parted, revealing what seemed to be the summoned spirit. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in illumination, he looked around, if only to check if he'd lost sight of his Servant during the summoning. The young head of the Conway family rubbed his eyes intently, a few tears streaming down his cheeks out of the sheer irritation the sudden flash had caused him.


    He walked over to the magnificent artifact, which overwhelmed his senses with it's intense flow of prana, and moved his hand towards the hilt, extending his fingers over it to take the weapon within his grasp.


    "I am Zaphiel Conway, Fifth Head of the Conway Family of Magi. If you are indeed a Heroic Spirit summoned by the Grail..." he said firmly as his grip tightened around the ribbed base of the enourmous battleaxe "Then I ask of you... What is your class and allegiance?!" the feedback wasn't immediate, but the crystallized miracle branded over his heart -the Command Spell- throbbed in response, as if accepting that holding the magnificent weapon was the correct choice.


    Zaphiel grimaced, as the heat emanated by the Command Spell brought up rather unpleasant memories; but he held on nonetheless, hoping that this powerful being would respond to his plea, the question he'd just asked echoing deep within the recesses of his mind.








@Proxy
 

The mystical war axe of legend and gold remained motionless as Zaphiel uttered his human queries. It seemed for a moment as if he had indeed simply summoned a weapon, an inanimate object meant only to be wielded and manipulated by human hands. In one sense, that was entirely true but in another entirely false. Zaphiel would find himself on quite the wild ride with his "servant".

With a resounding voice calm and steady, flowing words with streamed enunciation with a steady, level tone, Sharur spoke with the same splendor a renowned storyteller or poet would recite timeless masterpieces.

"Aha, so your Conway and you are the one that has summoned me. Judging from the information I downloaded, it seems like I'll be in this strange ritual called a holy grail war with you. Judging by how you look in both character and flat out natural physiology, you'll be in for some new and hopefully good experiences. My class is saber.... I think... and my allegiance is to you naturally. Now then, time to finish the master servant contract."

The words had a levity to them utterly contrasting with the heavy and serious air in the room, but they mirrored well Sharur's nature so prone to devious mishaps. A small needle like blade erupted from Sharur's handle where Zaphiel was gripping. The needle was not long enough or wide enough to cause any real damage, simply drawing a few drops of blood. Coughing a few times before speaking, as if Sharur was clearing his non existent throat to announce a serious point, Sharur announced his next sentence with a deeper and much more "professional" tone.

"Now Conway, do you accept my contract to attain new heights of power in a glorious reception of mystical wisdom and form representing the bounty and fruit of life?"

Of course, this wasn't really the contract for the master servant binding, but Zaphiel probably wouldn't be comfortable knowing the details of this contract. And Sharur also had that sneaking ulterior motive to lead his master into the most uncomfortable of situations.​



@FewUtherClockKlik
 



Ariel Terrel|Summoning Servant|Outskirts of London, Forest Area, Terrel Mansion


Current Hitpoints



Mansion_by_AeroCloud.jpg



Ariel gazed in wonder at the being she had summoned. A being of radiance that shimmered like the peerless gold adorning his entire body. A majestic figure emanating royalty innately as if his entire existence was permeated with the idea of kingship. Ariel quickly recovered her wits and composure, only momentarily stunned that the grail was capable of facilitating the summoning of such a significant spirit without any real strain to Ariel aside from maintaining the spirit, which would not be much of a problem. With the same pride instilled onto her from childhood and the same pride that she had firmly believed in, Ariel met eyes with the king and was about to speak out a respectful greeting. However, the king intercepted her immediately with an offhand remark that hinted no malice, merely impregnated with casual dismissal.


"Mongrel, who gave you right to gaze upon me?"


Proceeded by the second hand derogatory comment of


"You will be an adequate anchor to this world. For now."


Ariel's brow twitched as she heard those words, and her gem like teal green eyes emanated a luster fueled by defensiveness. Almost any man would have bowed their heads of received those words with grumbling discontent, awed as they would be by the king's charisma and regal nature. Such was not the case with Ariel, who upheld an overbearing pride in herself that clashed with the king's limitless ego. As Gilgamesh faded away into spiritual form while striding past Ariel, she remarked with a tone marked in affected surprise,


"My my, such a kingly man has walked right by me only to just fade away. Dramatic and empty flair must go hand in hand with being oh so mighty a king."


Mildly disrespectful. A man full of empty arrogance would react strongly to such a response, but a true king would hold a nobler bearing. Perhaps such a response was foolish of Ariel, but her firm will would not be bound by the mere presence of any single being no matter how great. The instant she uttered those words though, Ariel felt a slight twinge of regret as she anticipated the worst outcomes of the comment she had made on hot headed impulsiveness, but nevertheless she did not step down from it nor would she grovel or retract her statement.


In fact, she would not even deign to await a response, and with a casual bearing much akin to that which Gilgamesh himself bore, Ariel stepped away to her workshop, where she would begin to release her surveillance. At deeper heart though, she also felt quite afraid as though she put up such a powerful front, she herself was unused to matters of regular interaction due to her isolation in learning her witchcraft which further reinforced her desire to appear much more prideful and powerful than she was.





@Elegy
 
The then-invisible King of Heroes stopped in his tracks. What did... Did she just...


Did this insolent mongrel have the gall to mock the actions of the King!?


Though he was still in spirit form, his image isolated from all but himself, the Servant Archer's expression of bored disdain morphed into a significantly salty disdain. In short, the King of Heroes was about as pleased with this development as a spoiled child getting nothing but tighty-whities for Christmas. The King of Heroes materialized about a decimeter in front of Ariel, arms crossed as he looked down on the girl as one would a squished, dying ant facing its last moments upon the hot, concrete walkway as it was slowly baked by the blazing summer sun.


"u wot m8 You what, mongrel?"


Though in the context it may have seemed as if the demigod King was angry or hateful, that assumption was far from the truth. Hate or anger implied that he was invested enough in this farce to have a strong reaction. No, this was merely a question. Nothing but a simple question spoken by a peerless King of the Age of Gods, a King who stood high over all men and needn't not care for the events of this degenerate mortal coil. The King's god-like red eyes narrowed as a disk-shaped patch of air behind him shimmered an iridescent yellow, like a ripple in a pond of molten gold. The opening of the Gate lasted a mere instant, but within that instant the air became heavy with the aura of radiance and power radiating from the gateway into the Golden Capital. The shimmering air vanished within an instant, and within Gilgamesh's hands was a sort of blunted golden sword with a blade wider than the hilt used to hold it, evidently made of some kind of indeterminate golden material. The feeling of power this blade radiated indicated it was not a mundane weapon. No, it felt like....


...a Noble Phantasm?


Nevertheless, Ariel didn't have time to contemplate this development as the sound of Archer clapping the flat golden blade against his free hand filled the air. He looked almost like a certain kind of individual with the combination of his expression, the tool in his hands, and the posture that reeked of dominance.


"Grovel before me, mongrel. Or I'll discipline you like the disrespectful child you are."


@The Suspicious Eye
 
Tabitha Lin- Outskirts of London, Hotel Rooftop

​




As the bright flash subsided, Tabitha looked onward to the woman she had summoned. There was a sense of divinity to summoning, as if you have all the power in the world at your fingertips. When someone is summoned it feels as if itwas if something she had been searching for all her life was finally standing right in front of her.Tabitha smiled at the woman as she stood up, Longinus was taller than her by about a foot, but she kept her gaze. She liked her style and especially her red hair. She crossed her arms and gave a polite node to Longinus. "Thank you, Saint Longinus. May the war we fight lead to victory." She looked at her red hair, somewhat jealous, she whited her's would flow so gracefully.


Tabitha smiled and tuned around looking at the open areas surrounding them. The view of the city was beautiful from the rooftops. Suddenly an unusual sight caught Tabitha's attention and a crane flew down towards them. She watched as it looped around the hotel the feathers a beautiful glowing white. She watched as it vanished into the horizon. "Wow, that must be a sign." She turned back to Longinus "we are certain to succeed." She looked back to the horizon one last time and took a deep breath. Then she turned away letting go of her awe and replacing it with fierce determination. "Although signs mean nothing without practice, we should spar and come up with a plan, before we meet with our competitors. Does that sound agreeable to you?" She looked at Longinus her eyes a dilcid bland color, showing a devoted focus. Tabitha had her own plans after winning the competition. She would not loose do to lax training. They needed to get situated and lean how to work together, along with formulate a plan and build muscle. Not only for Longinus, but for herself as well.


 
@Metaphysics
 

Saint Longinus - Outskirts of London, Hotel Rooftop


{||||}{||||}{||||}{||||}
​



"I suggest we start planning first." She said. "Sparring is out of the question, I don't want accidentally hurting my Master." She added as she looked out the window. "I think we should establish a safer base and ally with another Master." She said. "Priority targets should be the other two knight classes, Assassin and Berserker." She started to say, pacing the room back and forth. "But it wouldn't hurt to ally with the very same classes and their Masters...but if their goals conflict ours then they shall be eliminated."


She remained silent for a few moments. "It has been a long time since my life and the world has changed so much...I barely even recognize it." She said, looking out the window. "Master..." She started to say. "...I can feel fragments of my original lance...it's been separated." She said sadly. "I feel that if I get all three pieces of my original lance then I'd be stronger." She finished, looking at her master.


"Well then...shall we collect them?"


@Hadeonfire
 
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Clinton Reeves | Outskirts of London | Abandoned Industrial Site


Current HP


[||||][||||]



​



The Servant that Clinton summoned seems to originate from where Clinton originally was. Her accent was a dead giveaway. Though she fixed her accent to fit the location they're currently in.


". . . It's a deal, partner"


Clinton reached his pocket to take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He then took one cigarette out and puts it in his mouth.


"So... You're Assassin?" Clinton said as he lights up the cigarette. "You don't really look like one." he commented. Clinton doesn't seem to believe that a cowgirl from the old wild west to be an Assassin. "Just saying my thoughts." he continued with a shrug.


"So, before we start hunting the other Masters or Servants... whichever comes first, any idea on what should we do first?" Clinton asked Assassin. He seemed to have an idea on his own, but he's open for another suggestion.


@Hungry Hungry Hobo
 
Servant Type: Assassin


HP: ⚀ ⚁ ⚂ ⚃


Master: Clinton Reeves


Location: Outskirts of London: Abandoned Industrial Site


Company: Clinton



Martha Jane Cannary - "Calamity Jane"
​



Jane watched patiently as her new found partner put a cigarette in between his lips. Unconsciously she felt her tongue rub at the point of one of her canine teeth. It had been far too long since she had indulged in bad habits, but now was not the time. Perhaps later once she had a more comfortable grip on the situation. For a moment her mind wandered off thinking about all the different kinds of booze and tobacco products that must have been invented since her time, and she released a soft sigh without knowing it. Her attention refocused on the man before her as he lit his cigarette. At the mention of his skepticism Jane folded her arms defensively and pouted for a moment as she looked away.


"No harm done, and unfortunately I agree. It's not ideal at all. It makes me wonder who Archer might be, too." Her voice trailed off leaving a pause for a moment before she held up her hands at her sides and shrugged. "There's nothing we can do about it now, and I'm used to being the underdog anyways." Being a woman certainly had its rough points on her career back in her days, but she managed to pull through then, and she'd be damned if she gave up before even trying now.


Again the man spoke, and again Jane diligently listened, this time clasping her hands behind her back. He sounded like he had something in mind already from his tone, and this drew an inquisitive look on the blonde woman's face. "If you ask me, we should setup several locations we can fallback to if needed. I can't heal you if you get hurt in a fight, and due to my class mobility and discretion should be our priorities. If you have something else in mind, though?" Leaning forward slightly, she reached out with one of her gloved hands. Her fingertips moved as if they were going to caress the man's cheek, but then they quickly plucked the cigarette from his lips. Jane gave him a playful wink as she in turn started to smoke. So much for holding back. Now if she could only find alcohol.. "I'm listening, partner."


@Metaphysics
 
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