Fate/Obscura - The New Holy Grail War - IC

[Xaltwind]

South America; Rio de Janeiro; August 9th, 2020 AD; 11:05 PM, An undisclosed plush conference room somewhere in the heart of the city.
~ Day 0 ~

The room is big and extravagant, with a large, crcular table sitting square in the middle of the place. Several chairs of mahogany wood and with soft, squishy pillows and armrests stand around said table, far more than what was needed for this meeting. The shutters to the large, floor-to-ceiling reaching windows were lowered and shut, folded so that nobody could either see in or out. Only a dull, soft light from a pair of lightbulbs, hanging from their cords in the tall ceiling, illuminated the objects and individuals currently inside this room. A few potted plants, a large, floor-covering carpet and an aquarium - oh, and some random oil-based paintings on the walls for decoration. Other then this, the only other remarkable features of the room were the people...

Seven, actually. Just a bit more than half a dozen strange and different-looking humans were seated at the large table. Five were men, two women, each dressed in different clothes. Some wore casual attire, while others had more formal or even regal outfits, and one man wore a strange robe with accompanying hood, looking somewhat like a picture-book cut-out of a 'warlock'. The seven were engrossed in conversation, passing the word around one by one, in moderate, calm and peaceful conversation-tone. Nobody yelled, nobody moved excessively, it was a controlled and polite discussion. However, the nature of the what they were discussing... Well, that could only be described as surreal.

"So it begins tonight?" One of the younger-looking men asked, a cocky smile on his face.
"Yes... We have received word from all of the observers... They are all here. It will begin shortly." The old man in the robes said, his raspy and hoarse voice sounding like his windpipe was on its last stretch.
"How exciting, I can't wait to see how things play out!" One of the women whooped, markedly more elated than the others. A short round of quiet laughter followed her outburst.
"I think you might be more interested in the show rather than the purpose and goal, Ms. Everens." The young man from before replied, the same cocky grin as before still plastered across his face.
"Yes... The purpose... Please remember it, and protect it, until the end... All of you." The old man muttered sternly.
"The agreement still stands then? The one of us who picked the winning number will be given the prize at the end of it all?" A middle-aged man in a hawaiian shirt asked, pushing back his red-tinted sunglasses as he spoke.
"As long as the rules are followed, and everything goes according to our estimations, yes... Whoever's number comes up at the end will have the prize all to themself." The elder replied.
"Hah! I wonder what those morons back over at the Circle will think and do once they get wind of this!" The smug youth slyly chuckled.
"By the time those slowpokes catch wind of what we're doing, the game will be as good as over." The second woman replied, matter-of-factly and business-like.
"Still... Hasn't there been any movement or noise from the old owners? Or the zealots?" The hawaiian-shirt-man asked amused.
"Our agents report no news from either the Europeans or the Zealots... I guess they're still trying to find us." A man replied, a gentleman clad in a fine suit with a tie and everything.
"Imbecilles. If they haven't found us after all this time, they likely won't ever." The last 'man' said - though in earnest, he was nothing more than a lad, merely fifteen or so years old, if even that.
"Don't tempt fate now, kiddo. We don't need any bitch-slappings from fate." The guy in the colorful shirt said again, smirking nonchalantly.
"Quiet you." The old man said bitterly and with a sour tone and look upon his aged, wrinkly face. "Remember: Cover up the lottery from the public, contain the players to the game-hall, keep outside interference from affecting the outcome and accept the resolution. Got it?" He almost growled, reciting these rules that made little sense to anyone who didn't know what he was talking about. All of the gathered agreed. "Good. Then you're all dismissed... Go, and prepare. Glory to the Glover-family." He concluded.
"Glory to the Glover-family!" The remaining six recited in unison.


And so, each of them left the room, through two big, elaborate doors. The only one who stayed was the old man, who sat with his elbows on the table, lurched forward while cradling his chin on the top-side of his gnarled and bony hands. His foggy, distant gray eyes peered into the closed and folded shutters, as if he could see right through them with those dimmed and hazy orbs of optical reception. His white and gray beard clung to his chin and his moustache slouched lazily. His bushy eyebrows did not raise or fall, but remained firm and solid, as if glued in place. Whatever the old man was looking at, it was beyond the scope of any normal human.

But so it began, this summer's night in South America. The bustling city of Rio de Janeiro, wtih all of its lights, sounds and smells. A tourist-attraction and very diverse metropolis... It would soon become the stage for a horrible and destructive ritual, carried out by seven participants who all vied for the ultimnate goal - to obtain the Holy Grail and have their deepest wish and desire granted. Having reported their arrival by means of the letter of invitation they had received, each person was now registered. They had all gathered, they were all here... In Rio, somewhere... They would now begin, having made all the preperations... The first night of the new Holy Grail War was in motion, and already the wheels had started spinning. The night was young and much remained before it was over...

The first chapter was underway... And the old man watched, with quiet anticipation.

[Nekomancer]

South America; Rio de Janeiro; August 9th, 2020 AD; 11:15 PM, a private estate within the Tijuca Forest.
~ Day 0 ~

Listening to the chatter and chirp of the rainforest's nighttime denizens, a new arrival reclined in a wicker lawn chair upon the veranda of her new home. Even in the midst of winter the air was still pleasant, and her white sundress suited the tropical clime. The woman resting on the open air porch seemed tired. The past week had been a rather rushed effort to conclude real estate transactions and hurry the previous occupants in leaving. They must have thought her terribly aggressive and rude, but they'd received more than suitable compensation for the quiet little mansion surrounded by woods. Millions of dollars for the property, and a hefty sum more to quicken the whole process. She'd wanted to make it quite clear to the sellers that they wouldn't find a better offer elsewhere, and that it would save everyone's time by agreeing to her terms. All in all it took a little more than a week of back and forth between their realtors, and frankly the young woman was happy to bid the whole business farewell.

Holding her hand out at arm's length before her, the woman inspected the dorsum of her hand and the trinity of crimson marks emblazoned on her terracotta skin. Long and forked, the symbol could easily be divided in three; like a trident or a leafy branch. Proof that the claims of a resurrected Grail War were true, and that she was in fact eligible to participate as Master partnered with a Hero of times long past. She had half expected the whole event to be a ploy: either the work of the Association trying to draw out disobedient magi, or some other sort of treachery. Truth be told, she still wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't the case. Even if their were to be a Grail War here, it was disconcerting to know that an unknown party was in control of the preparations and facilitation of the ritual. Presumably they could have kept the grail all to themselves, and completely avoided any chance of losing their claim to the wish granting vessel. That'd of course mean that they would be required to supply all seven Masters, in which case the whole ritual would have turned into a civil war, like the original Heaven's Feel. That explained then why they'd bothered to invite outside magi to participate, but that raised entirely different questions. Putting it simply, it'd be in their best interest to only send invitations to magi who meet the bare minimum requirements for participation. That way, they could send their own ace to dominate the competition and claim victory without opposition.

She stood up from her seat and turned to face the house, taking hold of the door handle and sliding the glass to the side. That train of thought made the most sense, but it was also somewhat insulting. If she was correct it meant in no uncertain terms that the war's overseers, this Glover family, viewed her as an incompetent. That view clashed somewhat with her own self-image, and she aimed to surprise them in an unpleasant fashion. Walking within the warm, bright interior of the estate, she descended a short flight of stairs to the cellar. Rows and rows of wooden racks held hundreds of wine bottles, their crimson and golden contents glittering in the warm, dim light. Further on the floorspace opened up to a sort of clearing, a wide uncluttered space that had been cleared previously. The same place where she would go about the summoning ritual. Opening a satchel she'd laid on a table to the side of the room earlier that night, the woman withdrew a stoppered decanter. The crystal vessel was filled with thick, vivid green liquid, and as she unsealed it a vital scent filled the cellar's air. The smell was not potent, not particularly foul or enthralling; but it was vital. A smell like heavy rain, moss, or tilled soil, the brew smelled as though it could give life. This was the reagent with which she drew the circle and began the summoning.

"Ye first, O silver, O iron
O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract
Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg
Let the descending winds be as a wall
Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve.

The first verses resounded in the small room,
the ritual commencing as prana flowed
through the intricate diagrams she'd laid down before her.
A sharp red glow pierced the symbols,
issuing up from the ground as she continued.

Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
Set.

The glow intensified,
the bright red light filling the cellar.
The disembodied force of prana
kicked up a draft throughout the room.

Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.
I make my oath here.
I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heavens.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.

Holding her hand over top of the circle,
she clenched it to form a fist
and squeezed a drop of blood
from the thin cut she'd incised upon her thumb.

Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance"

As she completed the last of the chant, the droplets of blood dripped from her hand to the ground.
As they struck the magic circle the ceremony came to a head, the light becoming almost blinding as her call resounded.
A call for a hero, and for a partner to help guide her Fate.

[PlatinumSkink]

So… That part of “Let thy body rest under my dominion”… Was that theoretically or practically? If I were to rest under your dominion, that should mean that I were to take it easy while under your command. Does that mean that if I just keep on moving and never rest then that line will never apply and we’ll only oblige to that second part about letting your fate rest in my blade…?

_________________________________

The great red light shone brilliantly encasing the entity of the cellar under its influence. It would almost have gone unnoticed during the distracting performance by the circle, but a focused person would notice the body which was taking its shape in mid-air just above the circle. A shape predominantly black and white, distinctively arching backwards as the body was taking physical form from the prana that fueled it. To any one human being capable of sensing power it would be obvious that this form was outstandingly powerful. Powerful to a degree no human today could ever imagine matching to. The shape was wearing a dark armor on the upper body while what was below was hidden beneath a determinedly dark shroud. The armor didn’t remind of any medieval armor, it looked like some form of body-armor fitted around the lithe… female… body. The top of the gauntlet’s fingers looked sharp enough to cause damage, which they most likely were. On the top of the head, very long white hair was spreading behind the woman freely. The expression on the face of the woman started in almost serene-looking calm… before the red eyes opened and the mouth pulled into a fairly amused grin.

As the shining light finally receded from the pinnacle of intensity the woman landed and stood before her Master, standing straight and staring amused at her. The Servant was somewhat taller than the one who had called her, and she was now staring at her with a smile and radiating confidence. The armored one of them was not holding anything, nothing to reveal her class. However, soon enough, the Servant breathed deep, focused breaths… as if just partaking in the joy of being able to do so again… and then spoke with a determined and comparatively deep yet still feminine voice.

‘Servant Saber.’ There was pride in that statement. Indeed, to be the Servant Saber was something to take pride in. But this woman appeared to be openly soaking herself in the joy of it.

‘I ask you… Are y-’ … Saber suddenly stopped talking. Her smile disappeared slightly and she was giving her Master a stare that looked almost displeased all of a sudden. Breaking off right in the middle of the traditional words Servants are to say as they appeared. She just stood inspecting the magus with green hair which length almost mirrored her own white hair’s length. A few moments of a troubled expression later, during which one could have wondered just what was going through her mind… Saber’s eyes slowly trailed away from her Master and onto the shelves of…

Saber determinedly spun on the spot, walked over to a rack, snatched up one of the bottles and bit off the top of it. The Servant spit out the untasteful bit and then proceeded to lift the bottle to almost vertical state and devoured several large mouthfuls of the contents before once again separating the union of mouth and substance with a refreshed gasp.

‘Aaa-hah…! I haven’t been able to do that in a billion years…!’ … Which is impossible. No known Servants were around a billion years ago. Turning back to her Master, now with a very much content and satisfied expression, armed with a wine-bottle in her armored right hand, her stance somewhat more relaxed all of a sudden, Saber spoke again.

‘I approve of this cellar. Are you my Master?’

[Click This]

South America; Rio de Janeiro; August 9th, 2020 AD; 11:05 AM, a forty story skyscraper on Rio Branco Avenue financial district.
~ Day 0 ~

The building was a large, modern, steel and glass structure on the bustling and affluent Rio Grande avenue, in the heart of the Rio. The building, formerly owned by the Rio Grande bank, was mixed purpose building, mainly occupied by the bank and other firms on the lower floors, mainly capitol management firms. The upper floors and the penthouse were exclusively upscale residential. The multi-faceted nature of the property made it an ideal location for the little War. Surprisingly, Rio Grande was more than happy to hand off the premises for a lump sum of 400 million US dollars. The building became the Gruppo Lansing Brazil Building in mere days, the quickest turnover of corporate real estate in Brazil in years. One of the board directors of Gruppo Lansing even flew in directly to seal the deal. The next day, the Menas Gerais semiconductor plant was purchased, tying the knot for Gruppo Lansing's foray into the Brazilian semiconductor market.

Of course, that was not the goal.

In the penthouse floor of the newly acquired Gruppo Lansing building, a young women in casual clothes reclined lazily on a fat sofa, poking at a large screened cell phone in her hand while listening to music on a pair of black earphones. The room was cool despite being brightly lit from the tropical sun streaming through the room's large panoramic windows. The room, which appeared to be a large living room hastily converted into an office, was flanked by a large LCD TV set on one side and a three-monitor computer setup atop a well furnished mahogany corner desk on the other side. In the center of the space was a set of couches and a glass coffee table, more befitting of a living room. The spacious room led out into a kitchen and two others doors led to parts of the penthouse property. A single door opposite the set of panoramic windows led out to an elevator. The door was guarded by two men in black suits, and sunglasses, with handguns likely concealed beneath their jackets.

The acquisition of building and the plant in Menas was the first time she used company assets for personal business. She had every right to use the money --Every single drop belonged to the Lansing family, afte all-- but the deal was very conspicuous and the company's 'foray' into Brazil would probably have the unfortunate honor of being the only aspect of the War reported on International news for everybody to scrutinize. This was a preferable alternative to completing this deal as an individual. Though, this point would be rendered moot if the War went favorably.

Miya Lansing glanced at a wristwatch on her left arm. It was about midday. The petite girl threw the cell phone aside onto the sofa and craned her head back to look at the two lackeys at the elevator door. "Alright, time to go, shoo. Have a lunch break or something. You know when to come back." Without looking at them, she collected her cell phone and made her way through the large apartment, taking a flight of stairs before stopping at an almost empty room on the floor below. The room neatly housed a setup clearly for a summoning ritual, with large chalk pentacle drawn on the hardwood floors and several magical reagents strategically placed in spots within the circle. Having read about the Holy Grail Wars of past years, she was still mildly surprised that this ritual was about to take place. The letter she received in Hong Kong was disconcertingly suspicious, but trusted sources and long hours of research into the matter allayed her fears; the War here seemed to be in almost every aspect the same as the previous five wars for the Holy Grail. She was impressed by the accomplishments of the Glover family but was still wary of their motives. Nonetheless, she continued on with the summoning ritual.

Everything was already completed early in the morning. All that was needed now was a drop of blood and the appropriate verses for the summoning. Miya pulled a small switchblade out of her sweater pocket and flicked it open. Holding out her arm over the circle, she slashed her left index finger, letting the blood drip onto the center of the pentagram.

"Silver, iron. The cornerstone of the great Tower, the archduke of contract;
In the name of our great ancestor Schweinorg, hear me
Let the alighted winds be as walls
And the gates in four directions shall close
Up above the crown, let the golden three forked road come bound.
Shut. Fill. Shut. Fill. Shut. Fill. Shut. Fill. Shut. Fill.
Make it quintuple
Gracefully fade.

The summoning circle glowed with intense energy as the energy of the verses coursed through the lines of the pentagram likes veins of a body.
Soft blue light rose from the circle, creating walls of light that illuminated the darked room as she continued her verse.

Let thyself be under my command, guide my fate with thy blade
Should thou acknowledge to the call of the Grail and should thy abide, respond my call to thou
I swear my oath
I shall be the virtuous good of the world
I shall be all of the despicable there is
Thou seven heavens, adorned in a trinity of words,
In thou'st rings of restraint, let them begone
And let thyself be the Keeper of balance--!"

[ERode]

The sun seemed to be blossoming, radiant light spilling gloriously over the golden field. A blue sky, so flawless it appeared to be painted by a master artist, stretched endlessly over the plain, a warm summer heat pervading the land. It was a blissful silence, not a single sound, not a single movement. Just a tranquil, peerless landscape, one that did not exist in the world, that will not exist, that had never existed. There was a word that humans used to describe an impossible paradise.

Utopia.

She smiled, brilliantly, softly, in this heaven. The light felt good. The warmth felt good. The ground felt good. The air felt good. Everything felt so positive that it could only be described as good. Her hands rustled the yellow stalks of grass as she walked through the plains of Eurasia. She could see her, in the distance, immaculate and beautiful in a white dress and hat. Her white hair drifted in a gentle breeze, and her red eyes were as warm and inviting as any fire during a winter blizzard. Beautiful. She wanted to be with her. To touch her. To hug her. To laugh with her. To find inside her the mother that she had never truly have. To live with her. To learn from her. And...to cry for her.

But why...why would she wish to cry?

She continued to move towards that figure in the distance, but she began to slow down. Every step seemed to sap away at her strength, and she felt so much weaker than she thought that she was. Her body sagged down, her dress feeling like a suit of chains, connected to balls of iron. The girl's eyes drifted down, and found that she was in mud. Black mud that clung to every part of her being. It dragged and tainted her dress. It clung and clumped her hair. It sucked down her feet. She struggled in the pool of darkness, her arms stretching outwards, reaching for that figure that was growing ever-distant.

Then mud spilled out of her eyes, out of her mouth, out of her nose, out of her ears, seeping out of every part of her body, covering her whole body with darkness, crushing herself under its own weight. And unable to bear such a burden, she sank into mud, an utter darkness that swallowed her whole.

Her vision blackened, and then filled with butterflies of blood.

The Holy Grail, the omnipotent wishing machine, corrupted by the thoughts of humanity, called for her.

By the time Caster manifested, a simple ball of prana taking the form of a raven-haired girl in a black dress, she had already forgotten what she had experienced, and found it odd that she had tears in her eyes. Wiping them dry with the paws of a white teddy bear she held in her hands, the gothic lolita said in a prim and controlled manner, curtsying, “Hello, my Master. Pleased to make your acquaintance. How are you today?”

[TatsuaAiisen]

Planet Earth; South America; Rio de Janeiro; August 9th, 2020 AD; 11:11 PM, Funkytown^{[Citation needed]}.
~ Day 0 ~

"What is love?"
Tonight was a special night. Julie knelt on the floor of her luxury beachside villa, bathing in the brilliant crimson light and tremendous musical score radiating through the wide, open room. It was the perfect time for the summoning, she could feel her entire body vibrating with the raw power she was pouring into the magic circle drawn out on the floor around her. She had received explicit instructions from the ones in charge of the grail war as to how to set up the ritual, but she had made some...adjustments, with her father's advice of course. The moment she had received her instructions she had contacted the old man to discuss the technicalities, brainstorm ideas and express a great deal of father-daughter love. Just a few hours ago she had logged off of Skype and went to work on preparing the ritual, and already she was approaching the climax of the summoning. She had timed it perfectly, the final verses of the ritual had coincided exactly with the clock ticking to her Minute of Power and the chorus of her favourite piece of music coming together in perfect harmony. She continues her chant in the dramatic, drawn-out voice of a magus, speaking the words as if by memory despite actually making them up on the spot. This was the true sign of a Canadian Magus, their unique trait of being able to make up their chants on the spot and still have magecraft work at full power. Truly a force to be reckoned with.

...and send me a Guardian, a cool one at that, a Servant as rad as the cat in the hat...

Julie was fond of classical literature, as any idiot could tell by her phat rhymes. She had never been great at freestyle chants, but her father insisted that she did it, saying that it "Builds character". She didn't have time to linger on these thoughts, as it took all of her concentration just to maintain the summoning spell. Of course, most of the spell was done by the grail itself, but there was still so much work required by the summoner that a bead of sweat was already working its way down her forehead. The circle was glowing so brightly now that she could hardly make out the huge pentagon at this point, a massive whirlwind starting to circle around it as it pulses with energy. A sudden burst of light and she's almost thrown backwards into the window, barely having enough time to think to herself "What power..." before she is forced to continue the spell. In time, crackling bolts of magical power begin to converge on the centre of the circle, forming a sort of unseen shape where the servant was soon to begin materializing. Julie had to close her eyes at this point, finishing the last few verses with the same deliberate pace she had been using for the last two and a half hours. If it weren't for her special training, she knew that her voice would have gave out a long time ago, leaving her unable to finish the ritual. Still, her final words come out considerably weaker and more exhausted than the first. Her voice somehow rings out through the violent gale and blaring music, echoing loudly through the room and into her residence. Despite her lacklustre and silly final verse, it has the desired effect, bringing upon the usual great explosion of light that accompanies the arrival of a powerful time travelling superhero from limbo. Julie pretty much falls over with exhaustion and excitement, completely drained from the summoning for some reason. Something in the back of her consciousness keeps her from falling asleep, pulling herself to her feet and outstretching her hand towards the now fading brightness in the centre of the floor. "I wonder what kind of Servant she got?"

[Xaltwind]

Eternity; Afterlife.

The festivities continued as usual, the dark blue night sky above giving way to hundreds of stars. The braziers and lanterns giving off their soft, warm glow on the ground. The songs and laughter of the others filled the air, and a feeling of ever-lasting content was present in the air. Watching the scene of the merry crowd, she stood a bit of a ways away, on the outskirts of the perimeter of those who were joyously entertaining themselves and having a great time at their feast. A warm smile was on her face as she watched them all, each and everyone of them a great and noble spirit, a hero of valor and character. She had always found it strange that such a minor and obscure entity as herself was admitted to this banquet, but the others had never held it against her, nay in fact they had encouraged and supported her - welcoming her as if she was an equal. It was truly a heartwarming place, filled with such comraderie and respect.

However, her time here drew to an end. For time does not work as it does in the mortal plane, and for some time now she ahd heard the calling. A voice that had beckoned from beyond the afterlife, calling her to return and once again pick up the weapon she had not held for so many lifespans. Part of her was excited at the prospect, but another part was sad to go, leaving behind her friends and foes, her equals. Though as she stood there, thinking and musing in melancholy, she suddenly felt a large, firm hand land upon her shoulder. Slightly surprised, she turned her head and immediately recongized the face that greeted her.

"Oh, it's just you."
"Hah, that's rather rude isn't it?"
"Would you prefer I swoon dramatically?"
"At least then I could sweep you off your feet!"
"Hahaha, you'd like that."
"Aye!"
"... Ahh... You know, don't you?"
"Of course I do, we all do."
"Nobody's said anything though."
"'Course not. It's not like you're never coming back! 'Sides, to us, it'll be like you just went to take a leak behind a bush anyway! Bwahahaha! Ow!" A balled fist punched his head from above. "Hehe... Sorry, sorry. We'll miss you, of course. But when you get back, you can share a story we've never heard before!"
"Heh, I guess so."
"Off with you now, we'll be here."
"Yes, I'm leaving then."
"Mm. See you soon, lass."

The two bid each other farewell, with the lady turning and walking away. A soft, yet sudden, breeze blew by and the man raised his hand to brush some of his stray hair out of his face. When he looked back over his shoulder, still holding the cup of wine in his other hand, she was gone. Swept away to participate in a battle that was only hers. He smiled and raised his cup.

"... We'll be waiting."

Planet Earth; South America; Rio de Janeiro; August 9th, 2020 AD; 11:11 PM, Funkytown.
~ Day 0 ~

Bathed in a glow so bright it could've been the sun's rays themselves, slowly the shape of a figure took form. At first nothing more than a small sphere of insubstantial mass, it slowly grew and took form, eventually coming to resemble the silhouette and body of a human being. Once the figure in the light was fully materialized and her body made solid, the overwhelming light slowly began to recede and decrease in intensity, vanishing into nothing but magical residue within a mere few moments in time. Standing at the very center of the magical circle that lay upon the ground was now a figure, a human shape that was rather tall and most definetely female.

There she stood now, a tall lady of around 6 ft, with long silvery hair, tied in a a bun and ponytail at the back of her head. The bun is held in place by two golden pins, one with a pink flower at its end, the other a large red bead. She sports other hair decorations of gold as well: a ribbon, slim golden chains and a small decorative golden box. Her thick, tapered brows hold over golden eyes, with pale skin and a highly feminine face, making her a most attractive lady. Aiding in that respect is her body. A well toned thing, with well rounded hips and a busom that leaves men – and indeed most ladies – gawking. Her beautiful form is covered by a kimono of dark purple, with a pink inside lining, and trimmed with gold. The kimono is split cross the top of the thigh on the right leg, with pink fringe still revealing most of her defined leg. Her mid section is wrapped by a golden tinted metal, imitating a corset, though the front is removed. Red string cross over, with a pink wrap underneath. To top it all, a massive pauldron sits on her left shoulder, lined with thick fur and trimmed with gold, and held in place by two belts which stretch across her chest and under her right arm. Her legs are mostly bare and exposed, with the exception of her feet that are clad in slim, form-fitting metallic greaves and sabatons with a slightly elevated heel.

The golden-eyed beauty looks around the room at first, scanning and taking in its sights. When her gaze finally stops and finds the small figure before her, a calm smile comes to her lips as she speaks with a clear yet friendly tone.

"Servant, Lancer, I stand before you, my Ma- huh?"

Her speech was interupted as the hand of the young girl before her was reaching forward and, unintentionally or not, had somehow managed to find its way to the tall woman's bust. In essence, the young magus was now standing there, with arm stretched out, grabbing hold of one of the Heroic Spirits' breasts. The servant looked a bit perplexed, her mouth shaped into a small 'o', both out of surprise and confusion at the whole scene. Then, however, after but a mere few moments, the bodacious lady burst into a boisterous laugh, her hands on her hips and her body arching slightly backwards as she joyfully let loose her chuckle.

"Ha ha ha ha! What's this? A little girl, and a pervert no less, summons me to her side? You're a brave girl, little one!" She laughed. "Most men haven't had the pleasure of touching me there, and yet here you are, brazen as ever in our first meeting, already aiming for the precious stuff!" She smiled slyly and leant forward, so close in fact that her face was mere inches away from the face of the young magus. "But your hand is soft and you have a nice grip, so I forgive you, Master~" A seductive smile and sultry, half-closed eyes took their place on Lancer's face as she spoke.

[Click This]

Miya blinked as she adjusted to the absense of blinding light in the secluded apartment room. As she got the last of her bearings, she was greeted by the sight and words of her new servant. Against the darkness of the room, the black dress and hair of the figure before her was difficult to make out.

Miya, having expecting a more ornate or old-fashioned greeting from a servant, had put up her usual formal business facade and was caught off guard by the more down-to-earth greeting. She ungracefully stumbled around for words for a few moments before regaining a proper composure. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm doing very well, thank you." Padding her cut with a few disposable paper napkins, she continued cautiously in her diplomatic voice, still unsure of the nature and personality of the girl she had just called forth. "Well, this place certainly isn't the best place to exchange formalities. Let me show you to someplace more suitable where we can talk."

She made her way to the living room where she had been fifteen minutes ago. The two black suited men by the elevator had not returned yet; instead, they were replaced by a lone maid in uniform, looking idly at the CNN news ticker on the large wall mounted flat screen. Miya sat down on one of the ends of the U-shaped couch, letting her feet rest beneath the glass coffee table. She gestured for the gothic lolita girl to sit at the other end of the couch, facing her. Now in proper lighting, she finally was able to see her new servant in detail. She was indeed dressed in formal, old-styled gothic lolita clothing, and had no visible arms on her. Drawing up a quick conclusion, the servant before her was a Caster Class servant. She'd expected to be a bit more in control of the situation, but found herself woefully in the dark, unclear of her servant's class and even identity. Coughing to clear her throat, she brushed off her own irritation. It wasn't the time to be getting pissed off at things; there was plenty of time for that later.

"I don't believe we've formally introduced ourselves. My name is Miya Lansing. And you are...?"

[ERode]

Caster smiled in return to the slightly delayed response from the young woman, who looked like she desperately needed a proper hair brush to straighten her hair, or at least a proper dress. True, the Holy Grail had given her knowledge of the fashion trends of today, but it was hard for the child Servant to accept that all women of the current era wore tight variations of men's clothing in a manner that supposedly revealed their curves without showing anything. It was such a different world than the past, where long dresses were for the modest, and short dresses were for the temptresses. Scratching the ear of her teddy bear, she hoisted it onto her shoulders and let it sit there as her 'tomboy-ish' Master composed herself once more and lead the way to a more suitable place for conversation. An inn? Or, judging by the size of this high-tech, multi-floor palace, a lounge, perhaps with a few gigolos to serve refreshments? She wouldn't approve of it, of course, but she wouldn't complain as well. It was well within the rights of the wealthy to have a few advantages over the ordinary human, and if her Master was indeed a proper magus, perhaps her servants would also be of that persuasion.

She followed the blue-haired woman to a lavish, though surprisingly simplistic room. Sparsely decorated, with the only furniture being a modern variation of a scrying mirror, a glass table, and a couch, Caster seated herself on the opposite end. There was a maid, but an obviously untrained one, as she must have been too distracted to respond to whatever subtle gesture her master may have made in order to call for drinks. Perhaps her master wasn't a queen after all, or even a noble. Just a high-ranking bureaucrat, or whatever they were called in this time. She placed her teddy bear onto the glass table next, and, straightening her back while placing her two hands on her lap, Caster listened quietly to her Master's introduction. Miya Lansing. It sounded like an Oriental name, the type of name you might hear if you travelled to the easternmost side of Russia. Then she was a trader of silk and spices?

“I am Caster,” Caster replied in the same controlled manner as before, “But if you prefer, you may call me...Ah, but as this war is one of both strength and intelligence, perhaps you shouldn't?”

[Nekomancer]

Expect in moderation, for the world takes joy in betraying our designs.
Take joy in this treacherous Earth, for its surprises make life worth living.
Accept its realities without exception, but cast out all of its fantasies.
Bend to its actualities with grace, for their is no gain in adhering to falsehoods.
~Excerpt from the Valentine Family Creed

Euphia has always tried to live her life by these words of wisdom, handed down through her family line. She knew from the records she'd uncovered about the previous wars that the Heroic Spirits the Grail summoned weren't always heroic. That was enough to steel herself for whatever might emerge from the summoning circle, to purge most preconceptions of what her Servant would be. True to form, she couldn't have predicted the circumstances that immediately followed the summoning: The peculiar Q&A about the ritual's wording or Saber's appreciation of the wine. A smile spread across her slim features, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth as she chuckled; a warm, mellow sound. Brushing a hair behind her ear, she spoke in a melodious alto voice.

"I am glad the wine I've made agrees with you. There's plenty more which you're welcome to help yourself to, so long as you offer the courtesy of saving me a glass now and then. About 'resting' under me, well... Magic is full of pomp and circumstance, we need not concern ourselves too much with the elocution of the summoning. Rather, I think it'd be more appropriate and meaningful to seal our agreement with our own words. As you've asked, I am your master."

As she paused, her eyes closed for a moment as she took a small breath to compose herself. Euphia had until then been looking her Servant directly in the eye, never bowing out from the crimson gaze of Saber. As she spoke her next words her eyes snapped open, a fierce resolve burning in them.

"I do not seek the Grail. I do not seek victory in this war. I think it's important that I say this to you now, or else I would feel as though I were deceiving you. However, your will shall become mine. If you seek the wish granting vessel, I will give my all to attain it for you. If you seek to test yourself in combat against the Heroes, I will give my all so that you stand victorious. Whatever your hopes for this war may be, I will back you with all my might. In return for my unwaivering partnership and my half of our claim to the grail, I ask that you try to keep me alive throughout the war."

Having finished delivering what she hoped would be the last of the night's serious talk, the serene bearing returned to her face to replace the intensity that had presided while she spoke. Clasping her hands together in front of her so that they rested against her thighs, Euphia leaned forward and looked somewhat expectantly at Saber, waiting to see whether or not her terms would be found agreeable.