Fandom Tokyo Grail War

[AJustKnight]

Nameless Master of Berserker​

The winter winds whipped harshly against her skin, yet left no distinct reaction from her. She had, until this point, wondered in the world with no meaning. Her very being was a transition; it lacked what humans considered a true beginning and would end in an equally unnatural way. She had no other sense of measurement to compare herself to. It was an odd feeling to compare oneself to the creatures that formed her. They were, in a sense, the closest thing she had to a God. They had bestowed life and with it, want. The cyclical nature of it made her feel queasy. A sense of dread that she couldn't fully understand.

The sirens and light of several police cars passed her. That was to be expected. By now, someone must have stumbled on the memento she had left in the subway. The scene was left out of view but there was no way to stop the natural curiosity of man from interfering. Not that it would matter. She had put enough distance between herself and that reflection that she was now just another face in the world, one that would rouse little suspicion. Besides that, the visage she was gifted with was one that few people would inherently see as capable of such evils.

The young were often seen as free from such. True or not, her camouflage was perfect for it. Now, to apply it to the first step in her plan. A Grail War had several requirements. Putting the Grail and its facets aside, the first was to create a neutral ground. A place where the survivors could go if things went wrong for them. It was to be hosted by the Church as the instructions she had taken from her creators corpse had provided. It had also provided the location of the Church, the aforementioned neutral ground. She had an inkling of an idea on how to force the ends of her goals to meet.

She had to assume that every Master in this Grail War would have been provided with the same directions and instructions. Of course, those who had been closer to the origin of the letter, such as her creator, would receive the letter sooner then others. This had allowed her creator to provide the summoning circle within minutes of the Grail transferring into the world. She had no clue what gate it would have used to manifest, her understanding being that the family hosting the Grail was to be kept secret until the War's victor was chosen. It would force her to deal with all six of the opposing Masters but it was of little consequence.
The Church wasn't far away.




Stone, stacked taller then the homes that surrounded it. The building was both mature and bombastic. Anyone walking past could tell what it was. It stood out from the traditional Japanese homes that lined the street it resided on. A wolf in a crowd of sheep, in a way. It was fairly new, the rock that made up the building had little in the way of wear and tear. The windows were blocked by black curtains and the large wooden doors that should have barred entry were ajar. The courtyard before the door was modest and open, a few benches followed along the walls of the Church but aside from that, there was little else outside.

The inside was warm, she noted as she stood in the entryway. Like any church, it had a basic layout. Sets of pews in neat lines followed along the room, creating a few natural paths to the altar across from the door. The rooms electric lights were off, instead replaced with the natural glow of several candles lit and sitting on the tall backs of the pews and scatted on windowsills. She could feel a faint warmth from the room. It wasn't the natural heat of the room as that didn't register with her. No, it was a welcoming feeling, a sense of calm. As if she was being beckoned inside.

One tentative step and then another. The glow of the room, the warmth of it, the gentle smell of rosemary and ginger being burnt. Its purpose was to welcome new Masters to the Grail War, yet the hall stood empty. The warmth of the room dimmed. Her lone figure felling cooler as the fact settled in. She was an unwelcome guest in this hall, the grand ceremony put on was lost on her. The doors were opened for the masters invited. She had stolen that invitation from her creator. She took a step back, stopping when a rough voice gripped her.

“In my dreams, I could hear your footsteps growing nearer.” The voice, rough and sour, poured into the room as if from every direction, as if it was the voice of the Lord itself, broadcast from the bronze bust that towered over the room above the altar. The speaker made himself apparent quickly. Behind the altar was a small alcove, hidden behind the tapestries and candle stands that lined the walls.

He was older, at least older than she was, clothed in the ceremonial garb of a priest. His face was sharp like a knife, angular too. He was a handsome man, his form both graceful and powerful as he stalked from the recess' of the church. His stride was slow, meaningful as he moved towards her, his lips upturned in displeasure.
“In my dreams, I tried to talk to you and introduce myself. I am Father Christopher Weir. Shepard of the flock that resides here, guardian of their souls. Mouth for the Holy Spirit, Son and Father. Overseer of a War you were not invited too.”

Father Christopher Weir​

She was quiet still, frozen in place. She had seen the bravado and courage of mankind before. The willing pride to fight tooth and nail for something they needed, or even simply wanted in passing. But, this Father was different. His very voice was filled with a sense of belonging, as if he had never once doubted where he was meant to stand. The Church was little more then an extension of himself. A castle and he, its knight.

“But nothing I know of you. Apart from your cold and nameless visage. Apart from the wounds on your callous, sinning hands. Apart from the mourning of your victims. No, I know nothing of you. Not your name, not your reason. Only the Lord knows. But I have seen those you have slain, as if I stood next to you, as if I partook in your sins myself.”

A pregnant silence loomed over them. In his brown eyes she could barely make out anything of his minds pacing. The humans she had slain thus far wore their emotions in the their eyes, the creases at the corners of them and the tips of their lips. Her own face was as stony as his, lifeless and un-moving. Yet, she could feel, for the first time since her conception, her frail limbs tremble. He took note of this, his lips forming into thin smile.

“In my dreams you stood over me. Your face awash with my blood. I've always put faith in these visions, gifts that they are. Perhaps they were wrong.” He took a step towards her, his foot sounding heavy in the still air. She felt her body jump but refuse to move, her muscles ignoring the screaming of her nerves to turn, to run, to flee, to do anything. Like a fly, trapped in a web.

“I know not what vile corner of Hell you crawled out of, deigning to show your putrid mockery of the Lord here but I will allow no such trespass. All that awaits you is the cold of the afterlife. May you find more peace in that world then you did in this one.” He closed the distance between them. He towered over her. He cocked back an arm and she could feel the raw prana rush into his body as he performed his own magecraft.

His fist struck her in the stomach, her entire body convulsing from the impact, landing in a heap several pew lengths down. Her body felt a new sensation. She had seen it in humans; this kind of body breaking pain. Like her abdomen was being smothered with boiling oil. Her body twisted and contorted, back arching and falling, as a pitiful moan escaped her lips. Saliva and drool sputtering over her face as she tried to breath.

“I don't enjoy this. But if I must carry the sin of killing one to save many, so be it.” He continued as he advanced on her. He noted her reaction, the terror in her eyes. She was a homunculus. A master crafted one at that. Surely her creator had gifted her with some skills outside of the usual magical circuits that they were crafted with. Yet, she seemed like little more then a girl who had strayed from the path. His lips dropped back into a scowl.

He extended a leg, the tip of his shoes touching her cheek and forcing her to look at him. The fear in her eyes unsettled him. He had sat by several death row inmates who had pleaded for their lives with every ounce of soul they had. The eyes of this girl was filled with more hunger for life then any of them combined. Her mouth still refused to obey her, his own magical boundary having trapped her and paralyzed her.

There was no time to pity her, however much he wished he could. He drew his leg back, sweeping it behind him before lurching forward, burning Od once more as he did so. He kicked her against the wall, watching as a crack formed in the stone from the impact. Her body lacked the convenience of a natural body; warmth, emotion or registry of pain. It was only his holy boundary that was dictating her sudden enlistment of such things. He took no pride in this dark deed. It was a simply a fire that needed putting out before an inferno could arise from it.

“Rest now, child. May God have mercy on ye, o' sinner.” He began to lift his foot, drawing in as much mana as he could. He would destroy her, clean up the mess, and greet the Masters before midnight, as he had planned. As he brought his leg up as high as he could, he felt the presence enter the church.

He turned his head, for only a split second, but long enough. A razor sharp sword slid upwards. His leg followed with it, flinging upwards, until it briefly touched the ceiling. The presence was larger then Father Weir was. A much heavier frame concealed by thick bandages and ancient, bronze armor. Face concealed by a mask, there was an air of power about him, a sense of control and calm. This armored foe was in complete control even though he had only just entered the fray.

Berserker​

Father Weir fell back, his hands flailing to the side as he sought to grab a pew to slow his fall. He did so, managing to fall into a sitting position, the stump of his leg the only thing his eyes could focus on. The wet splattering of his leg landing on the far side of the church broke the silence. He had realized that she was slowly shedding Od, ever since she had entered the Church, but didn't think it had been to feed a servant its mana needs. Weir had figured it simply been the composition of her body and massive amount of Od stolen from her victims leaking out.

“Prithee forgive me, O'' King of Kings. I shed the blood of your Shepard in your own temple. Yet, a man must protect his charge, no matter the reason.” Berserker spoke, turning to face the altar, and consequentially, the bust of Jesus that hung there. Berserker looked down on him. The scimitar that rested in his hand still slick with his life blood..

“Wait.” The girl spoke out, her soft voice breaking the contention in the air. Berserkers interference had ended the boundary Weir had set up, leaving her to move again. She clutched at a pew as she rose, her breath coming out in raged gasps. Berserker moved to support her, letting her rest on his arm. The size difference between them was massive. She only came up to his shoulder. But it wasn't that she was small but rather he was magnanimous in size.

She hobbled over to Weir, Berserker half carrying her there. Looking up at her, he saw his dream coming true once more. Blood from his severed leg had splattered over her face. The mild smile on her face unnerved him.

Nameless Master of Berserker​

“You said you have seen my victims in your dreams. Have you seen anything else? Who wins this Grail War?” She asked. Father Weir laughed as shock finally began to overtake his adrenaline, his hands shaking as he held his stump leg.

“Only God knows. But I pray it's not you. An aberration. A sick mockery of the holy form of man. Worse yet, you've led a holy man astray. I curse you, forever in name.” He spat back, barely able to keep his body from shaking. Her expression changed little. The corners of her lips twitched, as if she wanted to pout.

“Is it so wrong to want to exist?” She asked. “Is it not the same curse all mankind is born with? This want to be.”

He stared impotently back at her. With nothing else left to say, she turned away, resting against the pew as Berserker finished his duty.
Father Weir made no sound as the blade fell. Berserker lifted his master into his arms as he stepped out of the church and back into the cold of the night.

~Two Weeks Prior~
​

You received a letter. An aged yellow envelope with no return address. Sealed with red wax that lacked any family or hereditary seal. Opening it, you found the following letter, written in exquisite penmanship:

Greetings,

I am Father Christopher Weir, presiding bishop of the Church of Mother Mary's Lasting Mercy. I am contacting you today in regards to most wondrous news. Tokyo has been, for several decades now, been under purview of the Church to create a new holy land to allow for the appearance of the Holy Grail. In accordance with the Clock Tower of London and the Provisional Japanese Magus' Authority, we are offering you the opportunity to include yourself in our first Tokyo Holy Grail War.

Outside of the observations of the Fuyuki Grail War and its summoning system, this new system will allow for a larger variance of Heroic Spirits. The mage families chosen to be gates for the Grail to enter the world are prohibited, by their own choice, from entering these new Grail Wars. As such, there is a greater variety in the Magus' that will be attending the War as well. Since these Wars will focus on outsiders, it will allow for less notable families, possibly like your own, to partake.

The War will officially being at the stroke of midnight on February 10th. However, the Grail will be present from the 9th, allowing for those who arrive early to perform their summoning early. Of course, the regular rules of a Grail War are in effect. Secrecy of our affairs is a given in these events. My church will be the neutral ground of the War, as is traditional of the Church. I would like to meet the Masters and their Servants if possible for a small ceremony at 11 on the 9th, just before the War starts. I hope that you can attend. Enclosed are directions to the Church from most main roads. I hope to meet with you soon.

With Deep Respects,
Father Christopher Weir


Included were a set of directions to the Church in Tokyo, along with an address and a phone number.

Having received this invitation, you had a choice to make. To seek the glory of the Grail and risk life and limb. Or to refuse and continue a life of certainty. Obviously, you chose the former option, lest you wouldn't be here, in Tokyo. Where you take up lodging is up to you. The RP starts at 10:30 P.M. on the 9th of February. Meaning the scene above happened a half hour before the RP starts. Decide in your pairing if you've already summoned your Servant or want to do to it just prior to the initially scheduled ceremony.

 

[CatJones]

Ophelia Wainwright
​

Ophelia brushed her hair back over her shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time. Kneeling on the floor of her apartment's living room, she was hard at work finishing the summoning circle she had been working on for nearly an hour. Her furniture was pushed away towards the wall and a sheet of plastic was coating the majority of the floor. She was willing to stay inside for the warmth her apartment offered but she wasn't about to throw away her security deposit nor ruin the hardwood floor. It was also one of the few places she could take her eye patch off and feel at ease. The correct mindset was a concern in dealing with phantasmal beings, after all.

Her brush made its last few strokes in her gloved hands as her head swiveled back to the reference book she had borrowed from a friend, resting on the floor only a short foot away. She was not the most gifted person when it came to the arts but the Kabbalah based symbol before her was more then passing in appearance. She did lament not being able to find a viable catalyst in time. She really regretted buying a couple online that turned out to be duds. No mana activity whatsoever. She let out a short huff as she convinced herself not to look at her bank statement and remind herself of the damage.

She stood up and backed away from the circle on the floor. Everything was ready to do the summoning. Except her. She would prefer not to summon a heroic spirit in what amounted to a tank top and shorts. Retreating to her bedroom, she changed into something more concealing. She figured it wasn't a bad idea to at least start on the right foot with her Servant. If she had to stay with them and fight in a war, it only made sense to not seem like an incompetent.

(Current Appearance until stated otherwise)​

Having changed, Ophelia returned to the living room, double checking that her couch was out of the way and TV was strapped down to its wooden stand. And carted into the nearby kitchen, separated by a bar. One of the members of a peculiar social circle she was privy to had warned her that summoning could be a bit messy. That same member was the one who had given her their invitation to this Grail War, choosing not to get involved in 'a younger peoples affair'. Or so they had said.

Despite how much she had hyped herself up, Ophelia still felt a degree of anxiety and dread. It was understandable. She was about to embark in a rather dangerous game for the chance at a prize. She wasn't guaranteed to win. Hell, she wasn't guaranteed to survive. But not joining felt like it would have been an even heavier issue to deal with. Like, refusing to try at all. Or giving up before even starting. She shook her hands at her side, trying to physically dispel the concern.

“Can't back out now. I can do this. Team work makes the dream work.” She felt silly pepping herself up in the middle of her living room, but a stifled giggle helped break the atmosphere. She stepped over her circle, raising a hand up over the crimson lines. She closed her eyes, even though one was already covered. She took one last breath before beginning to speak. Activating her magical circuits always caused her hands to hurt a little, the scare there tingling until a dull ache set in. She ignored it, like she always did. She was burning less Od then she thought would be needed but just from starting to feed mana into the gate, it began to react.

A dull red glow permeated the room, over powering the lamps and overhead light she had turned on to work. Everything was cast in a crimson glare, and the TV's screen was only bouncing it back and intensifying it.

“Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation
Let my great Master Ailmar be the ancestor
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.
I hereby declare.”​

The air felt even more charged, the give and take of the summoning circle starting to grow much stronger. It was draining mana from her body quicker now. She wasn't to worried yet. It was more akin of a trickle turning into a weak but steady stream. The air felt thick as it swirled over the circle. That had to be a good sign. She could swear that she could feel the void between her room and the Throne of Heroes, like the drain of a bathtub, sucking and pulling. She continued the chant:

“Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail
If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!

An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven!
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!

From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,
Come forth from the ring of restraints,
Protector of the Holy Balance!”​

As the last words left her mouth, the light of the circle got to its strongest, a blinding crimson flare. She had to turn away from it to keep it from hurting her shut eyes, the magnitude was so great. She hadn't cut off her supply to the circle yet she could feel it no longer pulling on her supply. There was something else pulling on her Od, her body converting it to mana as it leaked out of her body.

It was a peculiar sensation. She now hesitated. If she succeeded, there was now another being in the room. One of an order many levels stronger then man. If she had failed then years of planning were just thrown away. She refused to open her eyes or turn her head back, instead awkwardly speaking to the air again, hoping to get a response to the most basic question.


“Did it work? Is someone, or something, there?”


MocaPoka

 

[MocaPoka]

Archer
​

Self was the first to be given back.

Coming from the greater whole, the center of all things, the memory of the world and the home of humanity was surprisingly easy. The bridge separating life and death was thin and narrow, but when the guiding path of red and gold mana had been connected to the very core of her being; it had been easy to walk across. The further she walked across the bridge of mana from the Throne to the Living, the more gifts of the living world were returned to her. Self, emotions, sensation, and connection to the physical. Gifts that few things could ever surpass.

When she opened her pink hued eyes the chant of the summoning still echoed in her ears and mind. Her brown skin tingled with the swirl of multicolored mana that circled her like a mini typhoon of rainbow and ethereal light. The volume and force of the magic and mystery was far greater than anything she had known living and it took a few seconds for her to calm the natural storm of power and condense it down into her Grail formed body. Once the power she had been gifted with was dimmed and hidden to the point of near nonexistence, she took her first breathe deeply, and curiously took stock of her surroundings.

It was a small room. Furniture pushed to the sides and she was standing on some curious, crackly sheet of some kind. The sheet covered most of the room’s floors in a way that she personally found rather unflattering, but it was pleasantly warm inside the room. A few other curious objects were inside the comfy chamber but she forced her attention to the only living thing near. She inspected the living soul as her own mind was being filled with sudden knowledge from the Grail. Knowledge it deemed necessary for her to know in order to fulfill her role as a Servant.

She gave a small, quick frown when it gave her the knowledge of some of the objects in room. Plastic, modern day heating, lighting, TV. It would have been far more enjoyable to learn such things on her own without omniscient assistance. She hoped the Grail would soon cut off its flow of knowledge to her. Such freely given knowledge could easily lead to arrogance and a false sense of wisdom. More importantly it would take away her joy of discovery and learning.

The living soul before her awkwardly spoke, eye tightly sealed shut, and body tense as if she had summoned a demon and suddenly realized that she had forgotten to bring a sacrifice for it to sate its hunger on. The apparent summoner appeared only a few years older than herself when she had been living. Dressed in clothing that the ghost nodded approvingly of while she noted the minor strangeness of white hair, black eye patch, a burn scars on her shoulders. Although they were silly things for her to think of as strange; the ghost’s own white and pink hair and eyes were likely far stranger in comparison. Her dress as well was likely to be far more strange than (in her eyes) the conservative wear the summoner was wearing. Then again she knew of few higher class women of Europe who would dare wear something showing their shoulders bare; an opinion on fashion that still seemed silly to her.

When the girl spoke her question, eyes still sealed shut, the ghost had to fight down giggles. She lightly raised a heeled foot off the plastic and settled it back down again to make some small noise and to relax her stance into something nonthreatening.

“I’m not sure. Someone and something is here… but I would imagine you would have meant to summon someone a bit more… capable than me.” The ghost gave a small laugh. Warmth and ease in her voice as she stayed in the middle of the summoning circle in order not to frighten her summoner.

“I am Archer, living child. Are you my Master?” Archer asked, hands at ease by her sides and free of anything that might be confused for a weapon. A soft smile on her face as she waited for the summoner to answer.

CatJones

 

[Dragonruby]

Empty. The office felt empty. It was strange how the slightest shift in perspective could make things seem so different. The small two-story building that Kichiro "worked" out of was an easy thing to pass over. Gray and drab, the front was almost entirely undecorated, save for a small sign that read "Private Investigative Agency" which had since begun to fade despite seeming so new not too long ago. The entrance led into a mostly open space that worked as a lobby of sorts, though filled with bookshelves, a couch and a coffee table, along with a desk in one corner. A door lead to a hallway, connecting to a bathroom, a kitchen area, and then a stairway up which contained a number of rooms which mostly served as storage for a great deal of things, but also a bedroom of sorts. This building had been his old teacher's, and as far as he knew, it had belonged to her. He remembered how cluttered it seemed back then, with what felt like so little free space. There was hardly any place one could lay down on the floor on without bumping into something else, save for the bedroom but that hadn't been his place to enter. So much space had been taken upstairs by strange objects and knickknacks, like a large marble bust of some man he didn't recognize while shelves were lined with whatever books were deemed unfit to be kept downstairs along with an array of other objects like knives and jars or even clothes. He'd remembered complaining so often about how little space there was around the place when it'd just been the two of them, and now without anyone else around, it'd felt almost deathly quiet now.

Such thoughts were largely unimportant though, simply Kichiro's musings as he stalled for time. In one of the rooms upstairs that'd been mostly cleared out to function as something as a magical workshop for himself. The summoning circle scrawled onto the floor almost had a hard time fitting within the confines of the room, lit only by the fluorescent lightbulbs above with the singular window on the far wall draped over. He glanced over at a nearby desk, a plain latter occupying its surface. He had remembered coming across it, sitting in the small mailbox built into the wall outside. Despite the fact that he'd always expected to find them one day, bills for power or rent never arrived, and so after a time, he had fallen out of practice of checking. He had no idea when the thing could've possibly arrived, and surely it couldn't have been intended for him. After all, he wasn't a real magus, and with no real renown save for a few local cases, no one could've possibly meant for him to receive it. Perhaps it'd been meant for his teacher, but the woman had upped and gone nearly a year ago now, and with the appearance of his command seals, it couldn't have been a mistake.

Kichiro had almost simply gone and tossed the letter away, and yet... A wish. The opportunity to be granted almost anything he could've possibly dreamed of, all for the low low price of putting his life on the line. And what was infinite knowledge compared to his life, really? The Grail War was coming to Tokyo either way, why sit and wait on the sidelines?

Were such things just excuses he wondered to himself? Or was he speaking the truth from his heart? Either way, he'd resolved to participate, if only because he knew he couldn't let this chance slip by. And with that reminder, he turned to focus on the summoning once more. Kichiro rolled up his sleeves as he took a deep breath as he held out one hand over the circle. For the briefest moment, he hesitated. Once he did this, there really was no coming back. He'd clung onto that veneer of normalcy, the mundane life he'd lived, for so long... If learning about magecraft and everything it entailed was like diving into the deep end, then surely this was like being thrown into the ocean. But he pushed aside such thoughts and he spoke, the circle flashing and filling the room with an unearthly light.

“Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation
Let my great Master Ailmar be the ancestor
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.
I hereby declare.”​

His command seals flared up, joining the circle in lighting the room. The air seemed to pulse with power as the gathered mana almost made it hard to breath, like a physical pressure that pushed down against him and his legs shook for a moment before he forced himself to stand tall.

“Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail
If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!

An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven!
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!

From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,
Come forth from the ring of restraints,
Protector of the Holy Balance!”​

The words left his throat almost unbidden at this point, and he doubted if he could stop himself if he had even wanted to. It was like the ritual sought to complete itself the moment he had begun, and he was simply a prisoner in his own body along for the ride all way through till the end as he spoke with a voice so filled with assured confidence that he swore it couldn't have been his own. He felt his lungs empty as the final part of the incantation echoed out into the air and he was breathless as the circle pulsed once more. A brief flurry of wind circled the room, throwing paper and light debris askew as the air within the ritual seemed to do its best to vacate area, almost as if in preparation to make room for whatever the hell was coming, and all Kichiro could do was watch.

Reinhardt

 

[AJustKnight]

Ohno Rento
and
Lancer


​

Lancer was a far different beast then what Rento had been expecting. He wasn't a man of great stature, only 5'8”, but she barely came up to his shoulders. An interesting point of observation, as Lancer was currently trying to use his shoulders as a makeshift bed. She was like a cat, despite the canine ears that sprouted from the top of her head. She was laying on her back, more or less on his shoulders and the back of his neck, forcing him to lean forward and support himself with his arms on his chabudai table. She was a spun up creature. Far to energetic for his tiny, one room apartment.

She let out a heavy sigh. Then another. He had, as he always did, summoned her earlier then he should have, almost a full three hours ago. In his own thought process, it was a better idea to summon his servant and then eat dinner to try and get some of his mana back before the war had started in earnest. Now he was wondering if that had been a good idea or not. Lancer sighed again, Rento noting that he could feel her stomach muscles against his neck as the moved. He was also acutely aware of her long, mangy grey hair making any section of skin it touched to tickle. He could almost feel her angelite blue eyes piercing holes in the ceiling. His own red ones were staring holes in his cellphone. His arms were to numb to push against the screen.

He was, by definitions that others used, an 'herbivore.' He shied away from social interactions and preferred to let time pass in silence and stoic solitude. His dour appearance and lack of emotion in most cases didn't help. Though, it also was part of why people saw him as the stereotypical necromancer. Now that he had a second person in his apartment, that illusion was broken. Utterly and completely. Lancer finally rolled off of him and thumped on the tatami floor. Rento returned to a more comfortable position before looking over his shoulder. Lancer sat up the same second he did so, causing him to jump a little.

“This is boring.” Lancer said, her face and tone matching in their listlessness. “You're going to be the first Master of a Holy Grail War who's servant died of boredom. Can you imagine the honors they'll heap on you? They'll probably make a statue of you. Small enough to impress a mouse, at least but they're impressed with bright lights, so what is that really saying about you?”

Lancer babbled. Rento had discovered that rather quickly. When no source of immediate attraction presented itself, she would go off on tangents. Topics had thus far ranged to the intricacies of animal husbandry (or at least her disdain of it) to whether or not ocean water was really dangerous to drink or if people just hadn't drank enough to become adapted to it. And every topic in between. And she didn't need a partner to carry these on, for the better part of three hours.

Rento looked up at the clock, surprised that time had passed so quickly. He had spent the time trying to focus on trading stocks on his phone while Lancer entertained herself with her constant stream of thought. It was plenty close enough to start making their way to the Church for the ceremony. It was Tokyo's first Grail War, after all. They had to be planning some kind of commencement. He still thought it was strange to hold the war in such a densely populated city. But, knowing the Mages Association, increasing the number of Grail War sights was a good way to keep the number of competent masters higher.

“Are you even listening to me?” Lancer suddenly cried out, grabbing Rento by the collar of his shawl and button up shirt, shaking him back and forth. Despite her small size, she was deceptively strong. Though, the short and simple knee length dress helped to make her seem small and weak.

“Sorry. I spaced out. We should-” He began, trying to keep a level and collected voice. Even in the comfort of his own home, speaking to someone was awkward. He was quickly cut off, however.

“Should start looking for hussy servants to trounce? You read my mind. They'll be easy to find with a nose like mine. I might not be a pig who can smell truffles but a wolf can find a meal anywhere.” She smiled.

Her smile set him on edge. Her teeth were unnaturally sharp. Like every tooth was a canine. Like she was designed to tear things apart with her with little more then her mouth.

“I was going to say, we need to go to the neutral ground and make the overseer aware you've been summoned.” He finished as she let go of him, her face quickly turning into a childish pout.

“I've never been a fan of churches. I'll follow your lead, Master. But I ain't setting foot in a temple of God.” Rento was assuming that she was a pagan of some sort. Maybe a wolf deity of some kind. He knew better then to just outright ask. Servants were supposed to keep that info close to the chest, so to speak. He moved up from his table and into the entryway, slipping on his shoes. He had practiced the walk to the church multiple times now, just to be sure of how long it would take to get there. He should arrive with a few minutes to spare.

Lancer was nearly bouncing, her eyes wide with excitement to go outside. Wolf might have been the wrong word; more like a house pet at this point. He opened the door and Lancer rushed past him, sliding down to get under his arm as she did so. The outside of the apartment was still covered in a very thin layer of snow and the weather was turning. A cold wind still howled through the night but the sky was starting to clear.

Lancer cleared the buildings courtyard in a few long strides, sliding in the dirt and snow, pressing her face into it, raising her butt in the air and pushing herself with her front legs. She seemed pretty excited to be outside. The notion to call her like one would a dog, kissing loudly into the air, popped in his mind. He realized one of his neighbors might hear him however, and decided against it. Instead, walking in the correct direction and noting that Lancer was still playing in the snow but maintaining enough distance to keep an eye on her Master.


He was starting to wonder if he had made the right choice, joining this Grail War.

 

[Orihara]

Sophia
​

Sophia sat on her bed and yawned. What a day. Time to summon a Grail fighter. She looked at her letter again, reminding herself of the summoning ritual. "Duh duh duh, ok, draw a circle." She muttered to herself and got some chalk. "Guess I'll do it on the tile. Fuck it." She made her way to her kitchen and drew the summoning circle on the floor. She set down the chalk and pulled her fridge door open, glancing over the contents briefly before picking out a banana and a cold cheese burger. She had to grab a soda bottle to wash the food down, too. Setting the burger in the microwave, she turned on the heat and leaned against the kitchen counter. She took her time eating the banana. With a chug of her soda the burger was done. She removed it from the microwave and took a bite. "Fucking good." With burger in hand she set down the soda and then placed a hand on the circle. She set her letter on the floor next to the circle for reference and read the summoning rite aloud with her mouth full of sandwich. Shit glowed. When she was done she watched the spectacle while grabbing another bite and another chug of her soda. All that was left was to wait for Caster to appear.

 

[Reinhardt]

Assassin​

A voice was heard.
A soul was being called upon.
And one dared to answer.

The gates opened as a bridge of light emerged from one platform to the other, where a formless silhouette marched upon it. Surrounding the figure, was the absolute presence of nothing - a blank, empty space devoid of life and color. Every step it took the warm winds of the opened gates would blow onto its frame, each time shredding unto its body a new color. A new shade of life.

Slowly, piece by piece, that which was formless was given shape. It stood before the opened gates, needing only one step to exit the blank realm that it came from.

A single breath came forth from its newly-formed mouth. Without looking back, it moved forth and disappeared in a flash of light.

The bridge of light crumbled. The gates closed.

The voice was now clearer. Every word was heard in great detail and accuracy.
The soul had been given a body to reach its destination.
The call had been answered.

When the winds have faded, and the dust has settled, a mysterious figure emerged at the center of the summoning circle located within the magus's workshop. With the frame of a woman, it had donned on a strange set of attire - adorned with scale-like patterns, with an intricate design that could either depict the grace of a dragon, or the ferocity of a demon. Attached to its waist was a sheathed blade, its scabbard not looking far from the female's attire. She stood firmly, her crimson eyes gazed intensely upon that which was before her.

"Servant, Assassin. I have answered your call...", she spoke with confidence. "...Master."

Interaction/s: Kichiro ( Dragonruby )

 

[CatJones]

The pause between her own question and the answer she was given was surprisingly short. The irrational fear of failure had pooled in her, giving way to anxiety. However, when the newly summoned servant did speak, it did manage to alleviate that anxious feeling. Her servant seemed to be interested in the plastic sheeting on the floor, shuffling her feet slightly to the sound. Her words were both light and warm in their projection. Ophelia wondered if her servant was possibly some kind of leader or king and this was the effect of their natural charisma. She finally settled on opening her eyes and turning towards her servant.

She did it like pulling off a band-aid, her head snapping around at Mach speeds, her face screwed up in both surprise and awe. She had actually summoned a servant. A being who, in some form or another, impacted human history in such a way that their name echoed throughout history. Her humility wasn't lost on Ophelia, who noted that several leaders throughout history were men of great of virtue. Surely, Ophelia had drawn someone truly - why was she half naked?

The one eyed girls face slowly fell, noting the appearance of her servant. Her manner of dress. It was different to say the least. Eye catching. Her face felt like it was in danger of sloughing off from the sheer heat that was rushing through it. She was grateful that there weren't any mirrors in her living room. She could only imagine what shade of crimson she had descended to. The startling realization that she hadn't said anything yet brought her crashing back to reality. Her face came back to meet her servant in the eyes as she spoke, finally.

“Yes! Master! I'm your master. Ophelia. I am Ophelia and it is a pleasure to meet you, Archer.” Her brain felt like it was turning into pudding. Her tongue felt like it was an iron barb, poking her with every syllable that haphazardly jumbled out of her mouth.

“I would offer you tea but...” She trailed off, half turning to motion to her kitchen which was in excellent shape.

“...but if the room gets any warmer, I might melt.” She whispered under breath. She quickly recovered and turned back to her Servant. She wasn't entirely sure what to do in this kind of situation but there was an easy fall back.

“Ah! We should go!” She started again, obviously becoming more flustered as she rambled. She once again motioned, this time towards the front door with a thumb over her shoulder “To the church to let the overseer know you're bare.” She paused for a moment.

“Here. That you're here. We can talk on the way.”

MocaPoka

 

[MocaPoka]

Archer
​

Archer brought a closed hand up to her lips and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a flood of giggles that escaped. Summonings such as this, in her time, were elaborate and often deadly serious affairs. Steeped in ancient traditions, ceremonial procedures, and grand tributes offered for the summoned spirit in hopes of gaining its favor and not its fury. Clearly this summoning and summoner were outside of the usual ritual rites and magus demeanor that she was used to. Something Archer had no issues with, in fact, she far preferred it this way. The living soul before her was blessed that she had not summoned a more easily offended spirit; Archer dared not think of the tragedy that might have befallen the young magus if she had summoned such a spirit or maleficent being.

Looking softly at her clearly flustered summoner; a twinge of worry settled in Archer’s chest. Her smile faltered briefly; not turning to sadness, but giving way to a concerned gaze that a mother might give her child after their declaration of a worthy, but dangerous quest or journey that they had decided on a whim to go on. Did this girl not know the dangers of summoning spirits? Did she not know the deadliness of the spirit fought war that she was partaking in? Whenever the living dealt with the spirits, it was always fraught with risk. A Grail war however, was another level of danger entirely.

The newly summoned ghost forced her smile to return in full force. She step forward, heeled feet crackling on the plastic on the floor. She stopped an arm’s distance away from her declared Master, and went down into a picture perfect curtsy. A movement and greeting in her current wear that few would not blush at the sight of.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well Ophelia.” Archer said coming back up elegantly; her voice a smile.

The mocha skinned girl choose not to comment on her Master’s possibility of “melting”. She settled for another small giggle and placed her arms behind her back awaiting for her Master to “recover.” The reaction was much the same when her friends in England had seen her in her people’s wear. Her current summoned outfit was like nothing she had worn in life… but it felt right. It felt like her. Elegant and dignified, but still happy and free.

When Ophelia recovered Archer happily nodded along to her next words. Choosing once again to only giggle as her Master's jumble of speedy and mixed up words.

While she was still worried about her blushing summoner’s aptitude for something as dangerous as a Grail war; she was so far endeared to the girl. She seemed like a good and kind soul, and that was all that was demanded of Archer in anyone who summoned her.

“Going to the Church sounds lovely! Should we bring an offering? I’m afraid I don’t have anything on me that I could gift…” Archer gave a small frown, honestly worried about entering a holy place and giving nothing as tribute.

CatJones

 

[Jean Otus]

Master of Saber
​

It was a frosty night in the faraway country of Japan. A wind blew through the side streets and allies of a suburb outside of Tokyo. It was a cool, humid sort of wind, the kind that preceded a sleet storm. Matthias had a few hours at most to work out the ritual before the weather really kicked up and started to mess with his mana. Over the past few days, he had cleared out a suitable space for a summoning circle, tearing up the grass, shoveling snow, and flattening the earth into a suitable surface. He had spent the morning moving all the materials he needed out of his temporary study. A small hillock of tomes and parchment were now stacked up on the scrubby, sparse lawn, rippling gently in the wind. The young mage leaned against the wood slat walls of his temporary lodging. Evidently, this building had once been a school dormitory, but it had long since been left ignored after the school built a more modern facility closer to the local shopping center. The landlady who had rented him the space had shared quite a bit of its history with him, she was so friendly and sweet. He couldn't bring himself to perform his summoning in the building she had trusted him with, so the side lot would have to do.

The Corvinus family was hardly affluent amongst mages, and as such, their scion had no means to purchase a proper catalyst for the ritual. As Matthias went through the mechanical motions of drawing out the basic formula of the summoning ritual, he thought back to the hurried search he had done in the months before this night, looking for something, anything, that could connect him to a powerful figure from history. In the end, he had come up empty in every legitimate avenue of magecraft, leading him to the seedy, mundane side of the world. There too, though there was little to be found. Museums were unwilling to loan out quality artifacts, and antique dealers rarely had anything of real meaning, and the black market was all too dangerous for someone too soft for that side of things. The last resort, unreliable elderly citizens, had actually been his savior. A kindly octagenarian offered him what she swore up and down was a scrap of a 6th-century British tapestry. While the actual age of the weathered old fabric was uncertain, the artifact was clearly laden with magic. Unfortunately, the scene was so degraded with age, there was no way to tell who or what it depicted. Nevertheless, in the circle, it would go. With an object like that, he could reliably find himself with a spirit from that early age of British history, a solid era full of strong and loyal warriors.

Matthias came back to himself as he finished drawing out the formula in his family's signature summoning gel, which combined a variety of ingredients to ensure a safe summoning of even the rowdiest of spirits. The downside was that the concoction smelled like sulfur, salt, gunpowder, and death. The gunk was thick, vaguely chunky, and working it into the heroic spirit summoning circle actually made the mage work up a sweat, and he found himself with dark smears on his face every time he adjusted his glasses. After an hour of laboring over the dirt and the muck, he was ready to ready to begin the chant.

"Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Let each be filled five times, but when each is filled, destroy them.
Let silver and iron be the essence. Let the foundation be stone and the archduke of pacts. Let my great Turul be the ancestor. Raise a wall, against the wind that shall fall. Close the gates of the four cardinal directions. Descend now from the throne, follow the forking road to the Kingdom.
–Hear me! My will creates your body, your sword shall create my destiny! Submit to the calling of the Holy Grail. If you will submit to this will and this reason... then answer!
– I swear upon the fate of my family! I will be all the good in the world. I will defeat all evils in the world! – Now, from the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, Guardian of the Scales!"
​

With that came the flash of light, magic coursed through the circle, the tapestry scrap writhed with power. For a brief moment, the heads of two dragons, one red and one white, were briefly illuminated in this abandoned Japanese lot.
Gundam Watcher 27

 

[Gundam Watcher 27]

Jean Otus

Darkness. A lone male sat in the center of it all. He was leaning against a wall of invisible force, head hung in shame.
I failed... I couldn't bring her back.
Tears of shadow ran out from underneath his helmet, the visor with the crimson eyes concealing his emotion. This is my fate now, isn't it? To lay here, and fade into nothing? Is there no way to save Artoria from the darkness?

He reached a hand out for a figure of shadow. It was one he knew, yet it wasn't. The girl he cared for with all his heart was not by his side. He then heard the voice call out to him.
The area around him started to pull in towards him, as he felt himself change. It wasn't the feeling of transforming but more similar as if he was being woken up from a good, long sleep. The darkness enveloped him as he then closed his eyes. Information was flowing into his mind, information about what was happening, and where he was going.

The tapestry scrap bursted into shadowy flames which expanded and formed into a ferocious dragon, before the dragon itself vanished. Smoke concealed the summoning circle, but a soft yet chilling wind blew the smoke away, revealing a black knight.

The knight looked to Matthias and spoke with the voice of a kind man, yet it betrayed his appearance.
"You, who have called me forth to fight by your side, and defend you to the end, I ask of you, Are you my master?"

​

 

[LostHaven]

Caster

Sophia's Kitchen...? | "Oh, curse Fate, and damn the stars." ​

He heard the call. A plea to some hero of an era long-forgotten to rise and take up arms, or, at the very least, that should've been the case. However, regardless of sincerity, regardless of passion and regardless of desperation, he answered nonetheless. Ultimately, summons were still summons, and he held the obligation to answer the call to fate, even if it intended to shackle him and drag him into a senseless, ritual slaughter, or if it intended to grant him the gift of glory or whatnot at the end of everything.

As Sophia chanted, the lines drawn into her kitchen floor with chalk sparked to light, rays of brilliant crimson drowning the room and kicking up a torrent of wind. Behind the blinding light manifested the silhouette of a figure, and though Sophia could not see at the present moment, there was unmistakably sharp gaze fixed upon the magus. The light finally snuffed out, revealing Caster in his entirety; a white-haired man, of utterly unimpressive build and deep azure eyes that stared at Sophia with a hint of disapproval mixed with a tinge of scorn. There was a deep frown across his face as he continued to silently stare at his master, scrutinising the young magus from head-to-toe.

"Unfortunate," Caster vocalised following a deep and exasperated sigh. "I should clarify, unfortunate for you, I meant," he added, before proceeding to kneel down on the floor, and inspect the chalk circle upon which he was summoned. "As I suspected, no catalyst," he mumbled, wiping off but a small segment of the circle with his finger, gazing at the chalk-dust. "And as a result, the Holy Grail defaulted to bringing forth a soul from the Throne most compatible to your personality. Destiny is a twisted and sadistic mistress, if she's decided that I would be your first choice. Ah - I'm Caster, true name Nostradamus. I hope you weren't expecting some legendary mage along the lines of Merlin, or something. And please, don't expect me to fight. I'll get to work immediately, I'll be using your room." With that, Caster made his way out of the kitchen, with zero regard for anything Sophia had to say.

Orihara

 

[Aura Of Twilight]

Rider​

Crossing the bridge from nothingness to existence, from death to life anew, was both overwhelming and almost euphoric at the same time. As the mana poured in and around him to reconstruct his body and sense of self he felt something akin to adrenaline rush through his veins, his mind screaming, I'm alive, I'm here. It was enough to almost drive him mad. Not even half a second passed before the Grail stabilized him thankfully and within moments his mind was swimming with the knowledge of the "new" world he was stepping into.

"Rider, answering summoning request."

The moment the words left his lips Odysseus was taken aback at how young his voice sounded. So the Grail had gifted him with the body he had in his prime. Interesting.

The summoning complete, he removed his helmet and opened his eyes to see the boy who was now his Master sitting before him. Eyes wide and mouth agape it had been clear right then that Tokichiro had never summoned a servant before. He cursed, saying something along the lines of "Did I just summon fucking Tron?"

Odysseus couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't entirely appropriate but he certainly didn't expect that sort of welcoming. When he asked who this Tron person was, the answer left him both intrigued and amused. Virtual Reality? Artificial Intelligence? Movie? The grail might have gave him insight into the words but he hadn't expected they'd remind him of the Greek gods eons past. Pushing those thoughts aside for another time however, he grew solemn as he remembered what exactly he was here to do. He was to be his Master's sword and shield for the war about to begin. A war where they'd compete with other Masters and Servants to obtain a ultimate wish. Much as he hated to admit it the prospect of facing various legends of the past made his inner warrior tremble with excitement.

Listening to Tokichiro he could tell how eager the boy was for excitement despite his inexperience. That was fine, and yet...Odysseus felt a twinge of unease at the whole affair, especially about the murders taking place. Hopefully it was just his mind growing accustomed to his surroundings. When it became clear his Master was unsure of how to move forwards, Odysseus offered to gather some quick intelligence (plus just take a look at the surrounding area for curiosity's sake). Sadly he wouldn't be able to walk around in his physical form just yet but he'd deal with it.

Turning into his spiritual form, Odysseus was surprised at how natural it already was to travel through the apartment walls and into the world outside. Despite being well into the night the city was alit with multi-colored lights, words and numbers flashing across giant screens plastered against towers of steel. A majority had information about the murders occurring, leaving the normally bustling area with a depressed air about it as hardly any citizens walked the streets.

After making his way to just outside the boundary of the neutral zone he decided to return to the apartment, thoughtful. Once back in his physical body, he said, "I have returned, Master."

Midrick

 

[Dragonruby]

Kichiro's hands snapped up to shield his face as the ritual reached its apex, the light from the circle growing almost blinding to look at, or perhaps that was simply all the dust being kicked up in the air as the circling winds flare in strength. Either way, it's only when the ritual comes to its close that he can look back at the circle properly, breathing heavily from the magical exertion of the ritual at hand. The Grail handled most of the heavy lifting of course, but with his minimal reserves he felt drained as is. A part of him was almost afraid to look at the being he had summoned. A hero beyond compare, with power that supposedly outstripped even the most talented of maguses... Was it really still a hero?

His first impression of her was one of muted awe. Their armor was of a design he'd never seen before, curved with swirling designs, and covering her mouth was a mask like a demon's. Even ignoring their armor, they carried themselves with a sort of dignity and poise that demanded that seemed to give off a sense of assured confidence. There was no fear or uncertainty in their stance, even standing in a manner that could be described as casual, and combined with pale white hair and scarlet eyes, there was no doubt in his mind that this person was a predator. Not a killer, for such a title was too base and implied a sort of undignified struggle. They were a slayer of men.

A certain part of himself, his mind and soul, reached out to her on instinct and a familiar feeling washed over Kichiro as he grit his teeth in expectation. The visions always came accompanied by the feeling of water washing over him, as if he'd been submerged in some ethereal river whose current passed through him rather than dragged him along, and yet... This time... This time nothing came. It was like reaching for a distant thought or memory, only for a blinding haze of static to fill your senses instead as the same scene looped over and over of her arriving in a flash of light to stare at him with an impassive gaze. There was something there, he could tell, and yet it was just blatantly out of his reach beyond that veil. A flash of steel, a glimpse of a splatter of blood, but nothing else. This sort of thing had never happened before, was it because of their nature? They were meant to be a person from history, and yet there was nothing there to be seen.

It took a moment for him to realize the figure before him had spoken, and that it had been in a feminine voice. Another moment passed before he realized that their figure was distinctly female, and her armor formfitting enough to display it quite openly. Kichiro shook himself out of his daze, sucking in a sharp breath as if he'd just returned after an out-of-body experience, which wasn't too far from the truth he supposed. He rubs at his eyes in a tired manner before he focuses back on his Servant. Assassin. A subtle trickle of mana flowing between them told him that the contract was there, and that she told the truth, though it wasn't like she had said much else.

"Ah... Yes, well... Welcome, Assassin... Thank you for, er... coming here..." He said uncertainly, a contrast from her own tone of voice. Was there a proper protocol for this sort of thing? He'd never quite imagined getting this far, even if this was just the first step. He backed up a bit, towards the door behind him before pausing as he seemed to remember something. A deep breath filled his lungs as he attempted to calm himself and he stood up straight to look his Servant in the eyes. "Would you like anything? A drink, or... Something to eat? I imagine we have a few things to discuss now."

She was technically a guest now after all, even if she was there to serve him in a sense. It was best to start off on the right foot, or so he told himself. In reality, he had grasped onto the closest familiar thing he could and held on for dear life. Treating her as a visitor of sorts would work for now while he tried to sort through exactly how this all worked in his head.

Reinhardt

 

[CatJones]

Ophelia remembered all the warnings she had been given about Servants. They were temperamental, unstable, volatile. The general notion being that one would do well to keep a healthy distance from them, less a Master cross some line of offense that leads to a Master being forcibly ejected from the Grail War and the mortal coil. And in a way that she knew was unhealthy, the notion of being removed didn't intone the level of fear it should have. She knew that the idea was dangerous to play with but in a way, it was a means to her goal as well. Yet her own need to know and understand was taking over. A slew of questions paraded through her mind, wanting to understand and trade perspective with this newcomer. It wasn't the exact time for it, however. They had other matters to attend to first.

She shook the thought away and focused on what Archer had offered, bringing an offering to the church. Ophelia had been raised in many homes and could only recall one that ever brought good tidings to the church. The only concrete thing that rebounded in her mind was the notion that one was meant to give what one could afford. Whatever symbolism or meaning it held meant next to nothing to her. She wasn't a pious person. Faith had never been a great interdiction in her life, never a notion that had slowed her progress.

“Hmm.” She wasn't sure if she sounded thoughtful or irritated as she thought. “I think they already have a plan to give us Masters something. Lets go and see first. We can always bring something later.”

She offered in response as she slipped her boots on and opened the door for Archer.

“Ah, I don't think it'll be to big of a deal if you walk with me. There's been, um, a series of murders in town recently. The only people who will be out this late are cops and us. They also stopped foot patrols for officers, so we'll see them coming before they see us.”

She assumed that her servant would have entered into that 'spirit form' she had been told of, but didn't want to presume. Besides, Ophelia knew that if the roles were reversed, she would have wanted to walk about fresh air in a new world, rather then having to hide away and observe like a voyeur. Then again, Archer could have a wholly different world view to it. She could be annoyed with modernity for all she knew. Ophelia would have to ask questions and come to understanding. But for the time being, they needed to be on their way.

MocaPoka

 

[Orihara]

Sophia​

Sophia nonchalantly stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counter as she finished her burger. She watched Caster leave the room after listening to his whole cynical edgy boy speech. She took a glance lower, raising her eyebrows slightly, wondering why the dude was so insistent on playing himself down. What a piece of work, but little did he know she didn't even set expectations before summoning. She tossed out her empty drink and quietly slinked into another room.

She wondered what Caster would be doing in her room, but also started to think about how she'd be winning the Grail war with his help. For sure he just needed a confidence boost. He didn't look insanely powerful but with some sneaky magick and teamwork they could do it. He just needed the right plan and motivation. "Motivation..." She mumbled to herself while playing with her vanity.

Normally she wasn't the type of gal who used makeup but there were special occasions. "See... goth. Yeah, that's it." Sophia got to work doing herself up to look pristine, in the most unpristine way. She gave herself the goth look with sad eyes, subtly melancholy with a hint of disinterested. She gave it a touch of witchy but not quite horror movie. Perfect.

Once her face was done she changed and crept out into the living room wearing a black semi lingerie night gown and sat on the couch to dig in to a book and wait. He said he was getting to work, whatever that meant, so she gave him his space. She picked an anthology of H.P. Lovecraft stories, called the Necronomicon collection, and turned to Call of Cthulhu to pass some time.

LostHaven

 

[MocaPoka]

Archer
​

Archer crossed her arms over her chest and gave a small frown at her Master’s answer. If the Church was planning on giving the Masters something, that was even more of a reason to bring an offering with them!

While concerned at the possibility of displaying ill manners against a holy place as well as its caretakers; it was far more important to follow the rules of the coming conflict as swiftly as possible and inform the Church that they were respecting its will as the administrator of the war. If that meant delaying a proper offering so that they could tell the Church of their respectful participation in the ritual, then so be it.

“I suppose that will be fine… hopefully they will not be cross with us.” Archer gave a small sigh of worry and headed out of the opened doorway held by Ophelia.

She nodded in response to the living girl’s offer to physically walk with her through the town. While it might be stealthier for her to stay in a spiritual form… it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to explore a new time and land with an incorporeal body and dulled senses. Not to mention if there was an evil stalking the town that was poisonous and murderous enough to stop the town’s guards from patrolling at night; then it was likely safer for Ophelia if Archer stayed physically by her side. Evils often targeted those who were alone, and Archer could respond far faster to unexpected events if she was already in her physical form.

Once outside in chilled night air, the ghost forgot about her concerns of the present, and gazed with childlike awe at the surrounding modern city of steel and lights. The closest comparison she had was London; but this place was something entirely different in creation and feel.

She twirled around several times to take in as much as her pink hued eyes could, caring little for the silly spectacle she was likely making of herself.

"How wondrous! What is this town called?" The smiling girl stopped her happy twirls and asked Ophelia excitedly.

CatJones

 

[Midrick]

Toki​

When Toki had gotten the letter of invitation for a grail war, he had thought it had been sent to the wrong address, he barely remembered his family and could never remember seeing them perform anything he could. He had debated taking it back to the return address but reneged,
wheneve opportunity called he answered, so instead he went to the church where the letters were sent and got a crash course on grail wars. He was also spoon fed the information on how to summon a servant. He wouldn't lie he was pretty lost when it came to the ritual, and had essentially went with his tried and true luck. Apparently it worked because he got some sort of terminator looking dude who called himself rider. Apparently these heroic spirits as they were called were mythic people and characters throughout history, so suffice to say, he wasn't expecting to summon Tron, which he in fact vocalized in his period of extreme confusion.

His servant had gone out to scout the area, while he was alone Toki decided to proceed like everything was completely normal. He had a multitude of small tools scattered about and in an old looking tackle box, he sat cross legged in the attic of the boys home. Out of the orphans in the home he had been there the longest, almost 12 years now and Oda, the head caregiver had allowed him certain privileges like the attic. If anything Toki was more like a son to Oda than any of the other boys, long as he stayed out of trouble, which he had been doing... mostly. He had finished the gadget he had been working on. After hearing that there were basically no rules of engagement besides not attacking the neutral ground he had decided to create some form of security. He had bought some motion sensors and heavily modified them to detect anything that passed through the area with a heavy mana draw. Pretty much a cookie cutter version of a bounded field, but it would work.

All the sudden Toki heard a voice that nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. "Christ!" He yelled after Rider had appeared out of nowhere almost scaring him to death. "Alright new rule, no more fucking jumpscares, almost gave me a heart attack for cryin' out loud." He said with an exasperated shake of his head. Toki got to his feet and grabbed his cargo jacket and motioned for rider to follow him. "Letter said to meet padre Weir tonight, I'm thinkin' we go to scope out the competition and get a battle plan going. Afterwards we hit a restaurant because I don't know about you, but I'm hungry as hell." He said as he checked the stairs leading down into the upper floor of the orphanage to see if any of the other boys were awake. After making sure the coast was clear. "One more thing, we're gonna need to get you new clothes, because you look like you just jumped out of an X-men comic." He said as he began descending the stairway.

Aura Of Twilight

 

[AJustKnight]

The trip to the Church had been mostly uneventful. Lancer had kept herself distracted from the destination with anything she could get her hands on. Bicycles, scraps of paper and traffic signs had been the majority of her victims. There was now at least one bicycle that was lodged, almost delicately, between the bars of a storm drain. How Lancer had managed in doing so while making so little noise was concerning. More concerning was the blank stare she had given when he had stopped her. He had asked why she had been doing. She gave him a look as if to say 'isn't it obvious?' Yet she gave no reply to the question.

Now that they were at the Church, he was hoping she would have less to interact with and would settle down somewhat. Instead, she seemed to become on edge. Her hair, like a wolfs fur, stood on edge. It pushed out a little, making her seem bigger then she was. They had walked into the front courtyard when she had stopped and acted so. She turned her head up, smelling at the air loudly. Rento watched her, occasionally letting his attention return to the open wooden doors of the Church. Dull candlelight shone out into the courtyard, flickering and creating shadows from the pews within.

Rento knew they had arrived much to early. It was still a quarter till the hour changed and they were supposed to meet. He stayed in the courtyard with Lancer, who was already looking for things to investigate. She took a few steps towards the front doors of the Church. Rento assumed she would simply peer in, seeing as how she admitted to not wanting to enter. Instead, she froze up a few feet from the door, her hair standing on end, like a dogs hackles raising. He could, even from the dozen or so feet between them, hear her smelling the air.

“Blood.” She said simply. She turned her head to look at him before repeating herself. “Blood.”

Rento rose an eyebrow at the declaration. She brought a hand up to point inside the church. Her smelling was probably far superior to a humans so he had little reason to doubt her. Despite a growing tremor in his legs, he broke from where he had been standing to approach the doors. Looking in, he could make out the pews, the bust of Christ, black curtains, and the usual icons of a church. Something dripped. At first he thought it might be wax from a candle, but a quick glance around the ones near the door and the floors beneath them were still clean.

It dripped again. Something dropped just out of the corner of his eye. He looked up. A faint red blot clung to the roof. It dripped again. Looking back, he saw Lancers ears twitch as the crimson droplet him the puddle beneath itself. Lancer looked enthralled. Her wide eyes even more on edge, almost filled with a sadistic glee. Was she really so opposed to the Church that a death within it made her giddy? He took a tentative step into the room. Lancer reached in behind him, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back out, forcefully. Before he could ask why, she spoke.

“The punishment rarely fits the victim, Master. Lets wait for someone else to come along before we plow headfirst into oblivion.” She said, slyly starting to hide her mirth. In a way, it made sense. She was counseling caution in a roundabout way. He nodded in agreement and moved away from the door again, noting that Lancer was following much more closely now, keeping only a short foot or two from him. Almost as if she was starting to worry for his safety.

 

[CatJones]

Ophelia had to tell herself to let it go. She had to assume that Archer wasn't being rude when she had crossed her arms and frowned at the notion that she didn't have an offering. What was she supposed to give them? Her leftover spaghetti? An air freshener? She didn't exactly keep something just lying around to take at the drop of a hat. Especially not to a church she didn't even attend. Let alone that Archer was under the assumption that she would even know what to take as an offering to a religion she wasn't a part of. It flustered her more then she would have liked. Those were moot points she could have ignored. It was the pattern she noticed that was upsetting her. Several of her aunts had acted like that. They had been more condescending but the notion was still there.

They would make a sudden demand or request, then act annoyed or hurt it couldn't be done. Crossing their arms and scowling at her as if it was a personal slight. Archer had been less pronounced but the similarities still stung, perhaps the subtlety of Archers response was the reason it hit harder. Ophelia didn't want to assume that Archer was going to have a similar attitude but she was familiar with that type of controlling nature and unfamiliar with this woman. She would need to keep Archer at a further pace until she was more sure the woman could be trusted. She didn't like it but that response she had gotten; it just didn't sit well with her. Still, Archers silly antics won her back over a little. There was something about a star struck girl taking in a fantastical view like that. Spinning with such mirth and joy. It helped her to hide the concern behind her versed smile.

“Hmm? Oh, this is Tokyo. Or Edo, depending on what time period you're from.” Ophelia answered, pointing towards the city center. “It's split into a bunch of smaller cities that make up one big metropolis. We're in Tachikawa, specifically.”

She walked past Archer and onto the side street that lay beyond the small yard that she shared with her neighbors. Her apartment was upscale enough that it was in the better part of town, better then that, it was only a short walk to the Church in question. She figured she should kill the downtime with some chatter.

“So, where are you from, Archer? If you don't mind my asking, of course.” She figured it was an innocuous question. Given the circumstance of their meeting it could possibly have more meaning. Though, she didn't notice that possibility until after she had said it. What's done is done, she figured, letting the question linger in the frigid air.

MocaPoka

 

[Aura Of Twilight]

Rider​

Seeing his master jump a foot in the air at his entrance, Odysseus scratched his cheek. “Whoops. Apologies Master, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said with a sheepish smile. Noting that Toki hadn’t sensed him approaching he was once again reminded of just how green his Master was. Servants and their Masters were supposed to have some degree of awareness of their partner’s presence no matter the location, even if a servant’s senses vastly outweighed those of their human counterpart. Without this knowledge a servant could die in battle without their Master realizing until it was too late.

But Odysseus had hope. Seeing a makeshift bounded field in the works on the floor showed his master was intuitive to say the least.

A few moments passed, Toki putting on his jacket and indicating what they needed to do next. First the church, then food. “Sounds like a good plan to start with. We’re going to need to gather as much intelligence as possible.” Crossing his arms, he put a hand under his chin. “And I may be a servant but I’m curious of how the food of this time stacks up against my own era...Mm, roasted boar over a pit with a side of greens and bread would be wonderful. Still, we need to be cautious.”

Odysseus watched as the younger man looked down the stairs, remembering the other lifeforms he had sensed in the building moments after being summoned. Were they members of Toki’s family? He would need to ask later.

Confirming that the coast was clear his Master gave him a sideways glance, commenting on his apparent manner of dress.

Bemused, Odysseus took a look at his armor. His brow furrowed. “I take it that these X-men of yours also wear armor blessed by the gods? Huh.” Master’s words made sense though, he hadn’t exactly seen anyone walking around in his kind of attire and it wouldn’t be good to attract unwanted attention. Plus now that he was a servant he would be able to change back into his battle armor in a flash.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stay in spirit form all of the time, he hummed in agreement. “Very well, Master, but you’ll need to tell me more about these ‘comics’ later.”

Quietly following Toki’s decent further down into the home, Odysseus couldn’t help but notice that this wasn’t quite a normal abode. There were signs of people living there but it was lacking something, something important.

A sign on one of the walls confirmed it, but Odysseus knew now was not the time to bring it up.

Midrick

 

[Reinhardt]

Assassin​

As her master gazed upon her, seemingly deep in thought, she gazed upon him as well. Her crimson eyes intently fixed on him, as she scanned the one who was before her - leaving no inch unobserved, no detail unseen. A few nods, a few subtle head tilts. While she is not one for judgment, it felt only natural for her to assess whomever it was that she is to serve.

Finally, she stepped out of the circular markings on the ground, at the climax of her assessment. Sure the grail had provided her with knowledge on certain matters, but it didn't felt enough for her to create a standard with regards to a magus. Hence, she simply settled to her thoughts that her master was sufficient - he didn't seem overqualified for the job, neither unworthy of it. The very flow of magical energy that connected servant and master felt more than enough proof for his capabilities.

When her master finally uttered words, it sounded to her as if he was, well, a bit lost. Not that she could blame him, though - summoning the incarnation of someone or something simply isn't normal, nor could it be considered a daily occurrence. Anyone else would have had the same reaction - hell, even she would find herself confused if it weren't for the grail supplying her with necessary information.

She chuckled after hearing her master's offers. She expected a more formal approach, perhaps even a stricter way of tackling the current matters - but to be treated as a guest, that was just something she completely threw out of the window after what information the grail had given to her regarding mages.

"A good idea, Master. Let us go and eat!", she answered with a hearty smile. Not that it would be seen since a part of her attire masked almost half of her face. "After all, discussions are always held best over a meal!"

Interaction/s: Kichiro ( Dragonruby )

 

[MocaPoka]

Archer
​

“Tokyo… or Edo… Hmmm…” The tan skinned girl searched her memory for such names. A few brief mentions of such locations popped up in her mind from books she had read in the Clock Tower’s library and from a few books that she had acquired from Dutch traders in the streets of London.

“Then the land is Japan correct? An island nation East of China?” Archer asked.

She had never gotten further East than Europe, but her older brother had certainly told her many tales of his adventures in the east. Even he however had never gotten so far east as to reach China, let alone Japan. To her memory only the Dutch had particularly good trading relations with the island nation and knowledge of the culture was sparse within the wisdom of Britain’s books and maps. She knew next to nothing about this land or its culture.

A wide smile spread out over Archer’s face at this realization. There would be so much for her to learn, understand, and experience. She didn’t even have a clear picture of the topography in her mind yet! What kinds of food were eaten here? What celebrations and festivals happened? What were the Gods and Spirits like?

While following her Master and walking just a few inches to the right and behind Ophelia; Archer could be heard giggling quietly to herself. Enraptured by the sights and the excitement of future discovery; she had to take a moment to compose herself before responding to Ophelia’s questions.

“I do not mind. I am from Tsenacommacah in the Americas. It is a nation of many people that live just off the East coast of America. My home village was Werowocomoco, it is a holy and powerful place that’s next to a wide and beautiful river!” Archer proclaimed proudly.

While walking the empty streets the Native girl wondered what the purpose was of each tall building that surrounded the two girls was. Homes? Shops? Community centers? She wanted to go in each one and see what discovery lay inside; she doubted however that would be proper. She decided to settle for an easy discovery.

“What about you Ophelia? Where is your birth home?” Archer asked happily, pink eyes still rapidly going from building to building, widow to widow, taking in as much as she could.
CatJones

 

[CatJones]

Archer's fascination with the world around her was the opposite of what Ophelia had expected. She was, for the most part, pleasantly surprised by Archers ability to upstage her own preconceived notions of what a servant was going to be like. She knew little about them aside from surface knowledge. She presumed that the Grail would offer them all the worldly information they would need to operate in such a space. Most servants, as she understood it, were from the time period around King Arthur of England until the 1800's. Which meant they would be experiencing things that weren't even a concept yet. Yet, if there was any culture shock, Archer was taking it in stride.

She seemed to be in love with the world around her. Judging by her eye's darting every which way, she seemed to be in deep thought about the world around her. Ophelia wasn't surprised by the question of Japan's location in the world. After all, if the Grail was supplying her with facts, she would be well aware of where Japan was in the world. Still, seeing, or in this case, hearing was believing.

“Yeah, in Japan.” She answered back, while waiting for a reply to her own question, which arrived shortly after. Ophelia didn't blame her for being so starstruck. Japan was a beautiful place that took both pride and dedication to its appearance. It did help that they were in the more upscale neighborhood. When the answer to her question, of Archers birthplace, was given, it was full of names that seemed to be from a fantasy book.

The names were beyond her own ability to speak and she stumbled over them in her own internal dialogue. As Archer explained it, she was from America before it was fully colonized by the British, and thus before American history started in full. Explained the interest and excitement about this new world. Ophelia was a little taken back when Archer parroted the question to her. She had never really fit in with the Japanese. Her family had been British and stayed that way for a long time. Mostly by paying for arranged marriages with Englishmen and women with every generation.

“Oh. I was born here in Japan, actually. My family moved here a long time ago, but I'm a Tokyo local.” She answered, as pleased with the conversation as Archer was with the world around her.

The Church finally came into view. A stone structure mimicking the old designs of Europe. It was an impressive building on its own, though it was painfully obvious how varied the cultures were with the Japanese style homes around it. Ophelia moved an arm to point at it and alert her servant of it when something else caught her eye.

A familiar face standing outside, with a familiar black mop of hair, and a familiar peculiar fashion sense. Ohno Rento. Ophelia stopped for a second, utterly surprised to see him standing in the cold. If he was there, that meant that he had to be a participant of the War. Judging by the girl next to him, with her long gray hair and mangy dress, he had summoned a servant.


For a moment, she considered turning around and going back to the apartment. The idea of having to face another member of the Mortuary Cult made her stomach churn. She was frozen in shock, not sure of what to do, her singular eye staring ahead, locked on his thin frame in the distance.

MocaPoka AJustKnight

 

[MocaPoka]

Archer
​

“This is your birthplace? How exciting!” Archer exclaimed. “You must tell me all there is to know! Are there good places to eat? What can you purchase? Where do the people gather for celebrations?”

Overcome with excitement Archer rapidly asked her questions. There were few things better in life than exploring a large town or city with someone that called the place home. She would need to ask Ophelia about the locale culture as well and the proper way of dress. It would be a crime not to experience as much of this city and its people as she could. She would have to pray that the Grail war would not interfere too much with her explorations of the land…

Before the conversation could continue it appeared the Church came into view. The stone building would not have be out of place in Britain or the settler villages in America. Like most organizations that valued tradition, ritual, and respect to the older powers; the creations of the Church seemed to have a fixed and rooted place in time that location and the passing of ages could not change. An old stone that wind and water struggled to erode no matter how fast or how long they flowed around it.

Archer’s excited mood took a calmer turn when she saw the figures outside of the Church. The mana flow from each made it clear immediately who they were. The male a Master and the female a Servant. Archer moved a step ahead of Ophelia when the living girl stopped; not an overt assertion of protection, but enough to block any quickly thrown attack and a statement of position that anyone with experience protecting others or assassination would recognize.

A friendly and calm smile was on Archer’s face as she gazed at the pair. Her features completely at ease as if she had happened to come across two old friends. To those would didn’t know her they would likely think that her features perfectly cordial and warm, but for those that had been around the Native girl during her “excited or happy” moments they would likely consider this her “serious” face.

The Archer class Servant cast a quick glance at her Master. The living girl seemed to be in a moment of indecision. Surprisingly the single eyed girl was staring not at the female Servant, but the male Master. She doubted that the male was more of an oddity than the Servant, meaning that Ophelia likely knew this man. Whether they were friends or foes Archer did not know. Regardless, these two were most likely here for the same reason as them.

A fight here, right outside the doors of the Church, would be improper. Most likely these two were simply following the procedures of the war and/or trying to gather information about the other Servants. Surely if they had meant to fight or ambush another Servant/Master pair they would not be standing right in front of the Church out in the open? They could mean to challenge others to a respectable duel however. If that was the case, Archer would respectfully decline. She did not believe her Master was ready for such an event and the location was too out in the open for Archer's tastes.

The Native Servant let her Presence Concealment skill fall away. Her natural multicolored mana swirling around her steadily, but gently. There was little point in hiding her mana now. It would be obvious with her current clothing and with Ophelia by her side that she was a Servant. Hiding her mana would only let the other Servant and Master know that she had the skill to do so. She could only hope that the two would mistake the sudden appearance of her mana as simply being an oversight on their part.

“Good evening to you both. It is a pleasant night is it not?” Archer greeted kindly, hoping that the sudden release of her mana wouldn’t be taken as a sign by either Ophelia, or the other two, that she was readying for a fight.

CatJones AJustKnight