"Another glass of wine."

Lounging in an oversized chair that stood in the back of the Cathedral, right leg crossed over the left with an empty glass in her hand, a young-looking girl cast a dull glance at the priest before her. The priest was clearly at least somewhat on edge. It would be stranger if he were not, though. The temperament of this being, Servant Ruler, was unexpected to say the least. Really, the priest wondered why someone of as little importance as him had been sent to oversee the war. This wasn't some filthy Eastern ritual; it was occurring in the middle of land that the Church claimed domain after. Surely they could have sent a Burial Agent or a Knight-Captain, someone actually able to keep up with Servants if hostilities broke out. Instead, they had sent him, and now...

"Why are you just standing there?! Another glass!"

The priest, Father Dominici, jolted up as the order was barked out, hastily grabbing the nearby wine bottle and pouring into the glass. Apparently satisfied, Ruler leaned back in her seat, letting out a slight sigh before taking a sip.

"Aah, thank you, Lord, for giving us this beauty." She hummed. "Well anyway, keep an eye on that spirit board of yours today. Hedging my bets that they'll start getting summoned today." The Servant commented idly, letting out a slight yawn. "Also, any updates?"

The priest shook his head in reply. "No, I've checked on what Masters I could gather information on, but none are suspicious to that degree." He replied.

It should be noted that there are two cases in which a Ruler will be summoned. The first case is when a Ruler is summoned due to the Holy Grail War taking place in an extremely peculiar form and an unknown number of consequences would come about as a result. In other words, this refers to cases when the central pillar of the ritual, the Holy Grail, deems that the Servant Ruler, who is under no one’s control, is needed in this ritual. Given the nature of this Grail War, this is likely the cause. However, there is a second one that cannot yet be ignored.

-The other case is where there is a possibility that distortions will appear in the world due to the effects of the Holy Grail War.

"Keep looking. We're not taking any risks. I'm not going to leave any factor unaddressed, especially not here. If some idiot decides that they want to use a wish to wake up that, then this world would probably end. Even I wouldn't be able to scratch it."

"...understood."

---

As a Master, you have come to this city in pursuit of the 727th Holy Grail and prospective position as Second Owner of Cusco. As a result, there is only one path to follow: the destruction of all Masters other than yourself. All alliances that you forge are fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

The Masters have arrived in the city on this day, and each of them must summon their Servant should they have any intent of surviving the day. In Cusco, there are four fallen leylines. Given this status, these areas are likely to be the goals of many of the magi; after all, any competent magus would view these four locations as the ideal ones for a base of operations.

The Cathedral, a grand location overseen by those appointed by the Holy Church and Holy Grail. The Qurikancha to the southeast, with a vast history engraved into its nature. The Plaza San Francisco, as conspicuous a location as there can feasibly be. The San Cristobal Church to the Northwest, bearing remnants of a time long-since passed.

So go forth, fight for your goal of that omnipotent cup which can grant any wish.

Perhaps this time, a miracle will occur.

The moon was high above Cusco, the sound of insects and wild dogs having overtaken that of man in the hill-side slums of the city, the hours now steeping into wednesday. The home the boy hid away in was hardly complete, more of the outer-shell of a house with a basic floorplan, the dusty ground he sat on cold and without any heating to amend that. But it was home, only a single lantern to light it.

Rested, and at the optimal hour, and having consumed maiuka not an hour prior - the effects running strong but not obscuring his vision of the earthly realm - there was unlikely to be a better time for Santo. Even now, the Tsentsak were quiet with the raw dominion Santo was exerting over the spirits, usually a roudy bunch demanding their immidiate use. But they knew what was to occur tonight, and Santo was not to be disturbed.

Before the ash-haired boy was the circle drawn in salt, a vial of misty water in one hand and a shrunken head in the other held by its once lustrous head of blonde hair - now frayed and course. It'd been the head which had told him how to do this, an accompanying bit of information along with much more. To take part in this supposed War, he required a soldier. To this end, this British man (or French? Possibly American? What was the difference really) had brought the water. Settling the vial at the centre of the circle, Santo stood, brushing the dust off his backside. Crimson eyes took stock of the room: Reagents present both here and at the other house, a selection of clothes of varying sizes both for himself and whatever great spirit he may produce. All that was left was for him to begin the ritual.

The time was right. All that was left was to begin. He took a breath.

"I, I, I, I, I, I, I..."

The boy clasped one hand over the other, the head of the magus dangling by its hair between them. Santo's eyes shut as he repeated the same letter. He had a basic understanding of this ritual, the basis behind it. He needed no incantation to summon the great spirit, only what he already had before him. But this incantation was not for the sake of the war, no. It was for himself, to reaffirm his goals.

"I am like Tsunki,"

To remind him of what this whole war would be fought for.

"When I take natem,"

Not for honour. Not for glory.

"My body becomes cold."

Not for any imagined wish, victory was a wish in and of its self.

"I, I, I, I, I..."

It was for the land, and for his creator.

"I am sitting with Tsunki."

It was for her.

Ravel “Speedstar” Livoria D’Arby

Another day, another chance for the individual known as “Ravel Lavoria D’Arby” to once again prove her own existence as well as prove her family could once again obtain strength through her own power.

Though that was a bit of a mouthful.

Let’s start at the beginning. An offer one could hardly turn down. Though perhaps the existences of other “second owners” might not wish to partake in this war considering the situation in giving the winner the lands of Cusco. A powerful magi family without the rights as a second owner would revel at the chance to obtain such lands. The spiritual ownership of the Cusco leylines could be considered an honor to any magi family. And thus, those who wish to prove something would be able to be compensated for their skill.

Unlike certain Grail Wars held in a certain eastern city which was a simple contest to obtain a “holy grail”, albeit a fake one, this was no such simple battle. The Grail in this war could be considered inconsequential. Even if it was a powerful tool, certain mages participating in Grail Wars from more reputable families tended to simply be there for a battle. To simply take the Grail from those who they believed were unworthy. Several families probably accomplished this in the past, but this was the sort of grail war which there was tangible benefit to actually win.

However, at the same time such contests tended to have a “price”, and that tended to be the price of blood. One could simply be killed, ending a lineage of Magi.

This would be the case for Ravel. The D’Arby family had once produced some great magi. However, due to unfortunate circumstances, and not unlike a certain worm family, the recent Magi of the lineage were, simply put, really bad. It seemed that the D’Arby magi line would simply die out, or get absorbed by another family wishing to improve their own standings.

However, a miracle seemed to bless their home. And that was the younger daughter known as “Ravel”. Though not the perfect magi, Ravel was much superior to anything that the D’Arby’s had produced in many years. Therefore it made sense that she would become the next family head and lead their family in the right direction, out of the ruin the former generations had forced upon it.

A weighted responsibility that someone like Ravel took great pride in wishing to accomplish. And what better to improve the status of a family than to win the Holy Grail War?

Well, it wouldn’t be the “Holy Grail War”. Winning a Holy Grail War didn’t mean much to most magi. It was a backwater ritual the likes of which would never be considered “good” by association members. However, it wasn’t the “Holy Grail War, it was “The Holy Grail War”. One to end all others.
That was why Ravel had arrived at Cusco.

Being able to take part in such a ritual should be considered an honor. But honor had no benefits, and the purpose of this battle was for the winner to reap the benefits. Ravel would win and there would be nothing to stop her from doing so. After all, if the “strong” were destined to win, then by her own desires she would engrave the fate of the world after her own desire with that strength.

She had to be able to summon the strongest Servant.

She would summon the strongest class of Servant, Saber. At least, that is what she understood from her research. The Servants of the Saber Class Seemed superior in many ways to those of the other classes, from base parameters to legends involving swords, the one of the Sword were always the strongest.

Perhaps with her English blood, she could pull the strongest card, the Saber, like the Legendary Knights of the Round. Yes, she would be able to summon a powerful legend, even without a catalyst, like Gawain, Lancelot or King Arthur. At least, she hoped she could draw out a Servant of this calibre. Though Masters were important to keeping their Servant in the war, a Master like herself could hardly hope to match a Servant in combat. If she were to draw a “dud”, then perhaps it was simply something that was “not meant to be”. If this was the case, Ravel would accept her fate and continue her pursuit for the Holy Grail, but summoning Stronger Servants tended to yield better results.

Either way, Ravel had arrived at the city, drove to a hotel name she recognized, and took refuge in one of its rooms. Perhaps she should have made better arrangements? Luck would be had at her side though. She at least knew this hotel’s name.

But enough talk [or more aptly, thoughts]. It was time for Ravel to perform her ritual.

The purpose of the Grail War is to summon a Servant and utilize the Servant to fight battles. The circle was drawn. The stage was set.

The Saber was the class of swordsmen. Those heroes who had donned a blade for their country, for comrades, for themselves. This happened to be one of the, if not the strongest class. However, that did not mean that the Saber was constantly the strongest servant, but rather a very likely contender for victor of the war. Unless you are Takeuchi in which case this is the best class fuck all other classes gg Saber best Saber tbh fam.

The Lancer was the class of spearmen. As one of the knight classes, the base class was stronger than other classes. Though compared to the Saber base class, the lancer held very little advantage. However, the forerunners of this class tend towards great agility, displaying exceptional prowess with their weapon and speed unrivaled by other Servants.

The Archer was the weakest of the Knight class, but still comparatively strong.Servants placed within this class excel in possessing powerful Noble Phantasms, are able to act as highly effective scouts due to the skill “independent action”. However, archers tend to be less useful in closer engagements compared to the other Knight Classes. However, their range and ability to kite opponents tended to make them formidable regardless of the occasion.

The Rider was the class of mounts. The companionship of beasts was a commonplace in stories of old. From horses to pegasi, the Rider was able to tame and act as a cavalryman with their mounts. Of course, Riders tended to have the advantage of “Summoning another being to fight”, despite the being being an animal. Some animals in legends were able to present issue to Servants, and but it tended to be a fight in the Heroes’ favor due to circumstance. A formidable class, none-the-less.

Assassins were the classes of intrigue. Those who had taken to the shadows during their life, using their stealth to claim their victims. Able to nearly disappear from the world at whole, the Assassins specialize in “picking off”, for lack-there-of a better term, those whom had become separated from their Servant. At the very least, Ravel hoped she didn't summon a Servant of this class. It seemed, at face, to be one of the hardest classes to win a war with, but one with "some possibilities".

Casters were the class of Mages. The strongest casters of spells throughout the history of man were placed in this class. Mages with abilities that might have been eventually surpassed by modern comprehension, but at the same time, beings so powerful modern magi might be incomparable to their prowess. Due to not requiring any strong statistics, they generally have low combat abilities, and due to the majority of Servants having some form of Magic Resistance, this class is thought to be the weakest of all seven. However, the ability to utilize arts lost to the modern systems of Magecraft does present its own tangible benefits.

After some chuuni incantations in front of some pagan circle of some sort, a flash of light brightened the room. The summoning was successful, and the Command Seals on her arm presented the connection between the Servant and Master. She would draw the strongest card. After all, she was the one who was going to win this war.

Veronica Vivant Velasquez de Flaga

Beautiful.

The circle was drawn perfectly. This would be where she broke free of her family's influence and become her own person. She would lead her family to become greater than what they were. TO have this land under their grasp, to have this power, this place, and the Grail. Why, she would immediately become the greatest of her family, surpassing even her family's Red Eye potions and myriad drugs. She would become the Second Owner, and from then on, her potential would be limitless.

Ah, but she was getting ahead of herself.

It seemed to be fate, that she would be chosen by this war's Grail. Obviously it was her fate as well to win. Then all that was left, was to summon her own servant and fight the war.

The circle, drawn of silver, stood out rather conspicuously against the luxurious furnitures and decor of the hotel room. Obviously she had the whole floor to herself, and had already set up a bounded field to cover her summoning. The incantation however, was useless, as she had learned the Grail was actually the one handling the actual summoning.

But what was a summoning ritual without a grand incantation to go with it?

So Veronica chanted, calling out to the heroes that would listen, promising victory and the Grail to those that would answer. Obviously, she would get the best servant of them all, considering her own greatness.

"-then those that would answer my call, come to me!"

---

Saber

A faint call, one that tugged gently at her.

Would this be her time? Who was it that called for her, this impoverished knight? It was of no matter. She was called, and thus she would answer. With just a thought, she grasped the thread tugging at her.

With a brilliant blue light, Balin materialized once more to this world, called upon to participate in this war. Finally opening her eyes, her first vision was of that girl, and the seemingly rather lavish interior of the hotel room. While Balin was clad in armor that was unmistakably knightly, her armor was hardly shining. While it was in excellent condition and was taken care of well, it still showed signs of wear here and there. The armor was chipped in places, a few deep scratches no amount of buffing could erase, and the cloth around her waist were rather faded, as if it had went through a long journey through all sorts of weather.

"Apologies," Saber spoke, turning her gaze and a smile towards the girl before her. "I must ask, are you to be my Master?"

Ravel “Speedstar” Livoria D’Arby

@kusanagifire

A flash of light seemed near blinding as she took her eyes off for but a moment, only for the ritual to have been completed. She had done what she needed to do. Ravel had utilized the Grail to bring forth her “card”. The Servant that would act as a means to obtain the Holy Grail and cement Ravel’s victory.

However, the being before Ravel was definitely not what she had expected. Throughout her understanding of mythology, the existence of females from the most powerful positions was limited. Though there existed legends like the monster war queens of the Land of Shadows and other such existences, Ravel felt it a bit disappointed that she was not able to grab something like King Arthur considering what she had summoned was female. And King Arthur being female would just be stupid, right?

Well, that didn’t matter. At the very least, Ravel was given what she was given. Perhaps she could have procured some sort of summoning catalyst as to better grab the card she wanted. But that didn’t matter. The past was merely the past, and to act in such a remorseful way was not going to benefit anyone.

A simple question was uttered by the Servant Ravel had summoned.

"Apologies," Saber spoke, turning her gaze and a smile towards the girl before her. "I must ask, are you to be my Master?"

“But of course,” Ravel simply informed the person before her. Getting a better look at her own Servant, her armor weathered and to a degree damaged. Even if the Knight before her was a female, at the very least she seemed seasoned. Then again Servants exist outside the bounds of human understanding. It would not be impossible for, say a 154 cm tall woman to fight against a 253 cm tall behemoth of a man. Perhaps Ravel was judging the person before her based solely on these appearances.

“I am Ravel Livoria D’Arby. That is D-A-R-B-Y. With the Command Seals on my hand, I believe I am the one to summon you. Might I ask who was the class and Heroic Spirit that had answered the call to my summon?”

Ravel had given way to a curtsy with her knees. Though she had understood that she would be summoning a Heroic Spirit, the culmination and idealized heroes from mythology, at the very least she felt that manners were important. Though controlled through use of a Command Seal, a Servant was not equal to a familiar. Even those beings that had transcended the knowledge of Magecraft into something more tuned to Magic would not be able to form a contract with a Servant. Thus, the Grail acts as a medium in order to allow these beings, Servants, to exist in the world. If anything, the Master of the war was more akin to an anchor than a true “master”. The magus existed only to support the Servant in such a way to keep them from dematerializing. And considering that a traditional magus would be no less than a pincushion to any Servant’s power, it would be wise to 1) keep one’s Servant in the world as a means to combat enemy Servants, and 2) keep infighting to a limit.

Of course, the former is pretty obvious. Magi without a Servant are at a complete disadvantage to someone with a Servant. Even if Servants did not surpass modern humans in terms of strength, a 1v2 fight would almost always be disadvantageous to the “one” as long as they didn’t have any sort of cheap survival trick.

The latter is a bit harder at times to completely avoid. Of course, it is assumed for Servants summoned by the Holy Grail they wish to defeat their opponents and obtain the cup. Perhaps they had failed in their life and wish to fix what they had wronged? Perhaps they were simply in it to prove their legends against heroes they had never fought against in life? Or perhaps they had more simplistic wishes they wanted to continue on with. As long as the “desire to win” existed within a Servant’s heart as well as the Master’s heart, it would not be unthinkable they could at least try and keep fighting to a minimum.

In the event that a Master is unable to control their Servant, the founders of the Grail System had also created the idea of a “command seal”. Whomever invented such a binding must be given their due credit. Perhaps to an extent the command seal was more wondrous than they system of the Grail itself. The ability to compel a Heroic Spirit 3 times was something incredible within itself, and a failsafe system like no other to ensure a degree of control to one’s own Servant.

But either way, Ravel knew that she would win this war. At least, she knew she had to win this war to make sure that her family remains prosperous.

Charles looked out the window of his apartment at all the people walking through the streets, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air before letting out a sigh, wiping his brow clean of sweat as he turned back around, closing the window behind him as he did so. While Charles had arrived in his usual dress of a formal dress suit, he very quickly found that to be a mistake, and had traded it out with a simple white shirt and some jeans. Much less formal than how he usually dressed, but in this tropical climate, it seemed like the best option, not to mention that, in truth, it really helped him connect with his environment. The feel of the wind caressing his skin spoke to his soul very deeply in a way that he wasn't sure many others could, a feeling that had resonated in him ever since he'd started getting serious about magic. It was a nice feeling, but not as much as the anticipation that was setting his heart aflame right now.

I wonder what Servant fate shall send to assist me in this bloody battle. A Saber? Rider? Perhaps even a Lancer? Ah, what does it matter, as winning this battle is only half as fun as participating in it. A sharp grin spread across his face, his pale blue eyes a blaze as he prepared to begin. The bounded field had already been set up around the room to secure his privacy from wandering ears, and the summoning circle was laid out in front of him in a gleaming red. Before he begun, he made sure to do one finally check, making sure there were no imperfections in his work, as he wanted to leave his choosing up to fate entirely, not because he made a rookie mistake in summoning the circle. Once he was sure that nothing was out of place, he placed some incense he’d gotten in town around the circle, lighting them all with a few matches before he begun.

The room was dark, as all the windows had been shut and covered by curtains, and the lights turned off, leaving him alone with nothing but the sickeningly sweet smoke, lulling him into a trance like state as he raised his hand, his eyes catching onto the red markings, vague and indistinct as they were, on his hand, the smile on his face growing just a bit wider as he felt that same rush burn through his body, almost as if his veins were about to ignite. And so he began to chant, his voice low and resonant within the room, was cast into the Annals of history and myth, beseeching the Grail to provide him with a Hero to serve his will and fight with him in the coming war. The markings on his hand began to burn, slowing gaining definition and form until a definitive marking took shape, emitting a deep crimson glow all the while. As soon as he finished his chant, the circle would burst in a flare of blinding light to signal the arrival of Charles’ Servant. Once the light died down and Charles could get a better view of his servant, he’d take a moment to gain his composure, the excited look on is fading quickly into one of stern professionalism.

“Hello, my name is Charles Dorvain and I’m to be your master in this War. May we work well together in the coming days, either with grand victory or, failing that, enjoying ourselves in the glorious battles to come.”

@Raijinslayer
A young man donned in traditional Chinese clothing stood at the center of the summoning. He stood tall and proudly, without a single physical slouch present in his form. His breathing was calm and steady, reminiscent of the monumental stillness exuded by mountains. Yet despite his physical form of absolute steadiness and measured pace, his fiery spirit of youthful vigor remained shining in his eyes. The color that dominated his visual palette was a fiery red, very much an indicator of his spirit.

The man, the servant Assassin, took note of the man who had summoned him, narrowing his eyes as he pragmatically began assessing every nuance of his master. His physical competency. Posture. Breathing. Expression. All traits that coalesced to form the man known as Charles Dovrain. Of course, Assassin could not fully perceive the full extent of his master's character with simply a cursory glance. Such perception of character was reserved to those who tread among the impoverished or adhered to the more dainty ideologies of internal systems. What Assassin relied on was entirely a sense of refined analysis derived from the mud and grime of practically applied knowledge of internal systems present in Chinese martial arts.

More simply put, he had a fine eye for recognizing what could be more fittingly characterized as the "threat level" of an individual rather than the "emotional composition." There were masters of Chinese martial arts that could pierce through any histrionic veil of character, but Assassin was not that type of master. Such was a byproduct of his lifestyle of killing, further compounded with his naturally pragmatic methodology.

What he saw did not impress him. Physically, mentally - both aspects were highly in want of refinement. Yet he did not devalue Charles with this assessment. He recognized that Charles, by nature of being a modern human being, could not exactly match up to him through human effort alone. In addition, he respected Charles's status as his summoner, and would willingly recognize him as a master. After all, despite Assassin's reputation in life, he far preferred amiable relations, even in extreme cases such as a duel to the death.

Of course, if Charles was a man of extremes in moral values, an individual consumed by what Western culture would deem the "seven deadly sins", Assassin would not be hesitant to strike him down with a single blow.

But Assassin was curious. What paths did his master walk by? Considering Assassin had been summoned as an Assassin in his fiercer, younger state, then perhaps he desired not a master of the arts, but a killer?

"Greetings, Charles Dovrain. I am servant assassin: Li Shuwen. It is a pleasure to work with you, but before we begin this partnership, I wish to ask: what do you expect of me?"

Saber
@ADamnFiddle

Her Master? She had gotten it into her head that she would be summoned by some otherworldly looking person, like that wizard who advised King Arthur. Ah, but she was being rude to her new Master. That would hardly do. Another tumultuous relationship was hardly one she wished to relive. Even if her Master didn't look old enough to be a wizard, her fortune certainly seemed better than Balin's. Perhaps there was something hidden that Balin could not see in her Master.

“I am Ravel Livoria D’Arby. That is D-A-R-B-Y. With the Command Seals on my hand, I believe I am the one to summon you. Might I ask who was the class and Heroic Spirit that had answered the call to my summon?”

"I see. Then the contract is made," Saying that, Balin knelt, and bowed before the girl. "I am Balin of the Two Swords, summoned into this war in the Saber Class. Henceforth, I shall be your shield, your sword in this War. Please make use of me and my meager skills however you see fit."

Master, king, or liege... She had served under King Arthur before, so serving another liege would not be a problem. Both of them had come here to seek the Grail after all, a similar goal even if the prayer they would offer to it was different.

"Then, Master," Balin continued, still in the same position. "Please give me an order, and I will carry it out immediately. Which Master's head would you like me to retrieve first?"

Ravel “Speedstar” Livoria D’Arby

@kusanagifire

"I am Balin of the Two Swords, summoned into this war in the Saber Class. Henceforth, I shall be your shield, your sword in this War. Please make use of me and my meager skills however you see fit."

The Saber-Class Card: The card that is often considered the strongest. That was the Heroic Spirit classification which Ravel had drawn. The card she had-so desired from the start of this war. Sabers tended to be the strongest class on face, and thus it was not impossible to say that this would be the Servant most Masters wished to grab. To summon a Saber without the use of a catalyst therefore, in Ravel’s mind, was a blessing. Proof she had what it takes to win the war.

However, despite the fact she wished to summon someone from the round table, she had summoned a girl. There were no girls that Ravel knew that sat at the knights of the round, and as such it was a bit shocking to her that a beautiful woman like the one before her, albeit disheveled by what appears to be weather,

Balin, a knight of misfortune and of intemperance. An unfortunate being whose life was full of travesty. Though despite this the woman before Ravel seemed ready to continue fighting rather than allow the instances which occurred during legend to build up on them.

Despite her statements having a rather blood-thirsty overtone, wishing to bring the enemy’s head to her Master, she seemed to have a gentle disposition about her speech. At the very least, it seemed that the Servant before her was “gentle” in most regards. Perhaps even a model knight by her position to prostrate herself towards the person whom had summoned her. Perhaps, despite not being what she initially thought of Balyn as, she was at the very least a “proper knight”. Maybe even overly so.

Ravel wasn’t a magus who should be sent into battle. Though skilled in magecraft, her heart seemed less tuned to these sorts of instances. Under normal circumstances Ravel would not have considered this war as an option. After all, she was merely a girl, hardly an adult yet. Even so Ravel wanted a brighter future for her family name. The ability to obtain the status of “second owner” was no small thing. Thus, despite not enjoying the thrill of battle as most heroic spirits might, she had made up her mind that she was going to win this war, even if that meant defeating all 13 other Masters herself.

But rolling what one might consider the “strongest class” definitely allowed Ravel to rest assure and fight on without fear. It was a magi’s job to support their Servant in this battle, and so she would at the very least rely on Balin.

"Then, Master," Balin continued, still in the same position. "Please give me an order, and I will carry it out immediately. Which Master's head would you like me to retrieve first?"

“Very well, Saber. During the night we can choose to battle, but during the day I would rather keep fighting to a minimum. We magi are people of the night. Fighting during the day isn’t really our specialty. But I assure you that your battle can begin soon. During the night, I leave the choices of battle to you. Decide how to fight on your own and I will support you to the best of my ability.”

It was true. The existences of beings known as Magi [Masters] and Heroic Spirits [Servants] was something that should be kept away from the prying eyes of normal people. Those who see the battle must be ‘dealt with” accordingly. In order to keep the secrecy of the war, one would expect battles to occur during the night when most normal people were sleeping. Magic also works well to keep it secretive.

At the very least her Servant seemed willing to follow her Master’s orders. And in the long-run, an obedient Servant was far superior to one who would clash with their Master’s orders, even if the other Servant was stronger overall. At the very least this was a foundation towards an appropriate synergy.

“You may raise your head. I accept you as my Servant in this war, Saber. I suppose that means our pact is made. Together we shall find victory, mark my words,” Ravel said to her Servant in a rather cheerful manner. In retrospect, she could be happy for the time being.

Looking at her Servant, Balyn seemed to have strong parameters, excluding luck and mana. At the very least, the Saber class's strengths have not been overstated.

At the very least, it was not a matter of “can I win” for Ravel. It was a matter of “I can’t fail”. If she had lost this war, her family would dissolve without an heir to continue it forward, and seeing as that was the reason for Ravel’s appearance in the Cusco Grail War, she would use her skills and Balin’s prowess to the highest potential she could muster.

“Though I may have some matters to attend to as a Magus, if you have any sort of questions feel free to speak with me.”

And with that, Ravel began the construction of a Bounded Field to cover the hotel she currently resided within.

". . . ."

Charles didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to look over his Servant as the servant had done him, his brow knitting together in a look of concentration as he tried together his first impression of the man who had appeared before him and would be assisting him in the coming battles. He was not over-joyed by the announcement that man was an Assassin, but neither was he dissatisfied. His gut was telling him not to underestimate his Servant, as the air this man had about him was one of power through finely honed skill. This was not the greatsword that is used to smash your enemies to pieces in the heat of battle, but the small dagger you used to kill a man in the dead of night before fading away like the morning mist. Not what I wanted, but definitely something I could work with, even if it goes against my philosophy. This definitely turns my battle into more of a game of chess, however, which is going to be annoying and boring. But still, maybe I'll face of against a master of worthy contention to get my blood boiling. With his analyzation completed, Charles nodded his head before putting his hand out for his Servant to grasp if he wished. His stance relaxed ever so slightly, but his eyes remained just as intense as before, though the firey stare had died down to an ice glaze as he accepted that this would not be as engaging a battle as he wished.

"Nothing more than what you can give. Since I didn't use a catalyst for this summoning, I was fully prepared to get a lackluster servant, but from what I see, I don't that I have drawn so poorly. So, Li Shuwen, I believe it is my turn to ask what you expect from me as your Master?"

Plain

---

It was a simple matter upon arriving in the City of Cusco for Plain to find a location suitable to summoning a Servant. All she had to do, after wandering around the airport for a few minutes trying to decipher the map in her hands, was politely question a local man in a language he didn't understand. Within moments, and short a few hundred dollars, she was in the back of the man's truck, obviously headed towards the ideal summoning location according to the man's best knowledge.

It helped that she used her magical suggestion abilities.

He seemed amused as he watched Plain, excitedly gasping and pointing at virtually everything they drove past. Soon enough, they reached the man's home in what could only be called the city's "bad neighborhood".

After much bowing and offers of the singular donut in Plain's possession, she was left alone in the man's basement, where she could proceed to summon her Servant. It wasn't hard. She draws a circle in the dust on the floor, and proceeds with the incantation that she knew from memory (although she wasn't entirely sure where that memory came from).

And then the incantation was finished.

Blinking, Plain looks around the room as if only now becoming aware of its existence. "Hello...? Is... anybody there?"

---

There was no unruly sound or explosion of dust upon the Servant's arrival in Veronica's expensive accomadations, only a heavenly glory and the accompanying sensation of vast amounts of magical energy flowing towards one location.

Summoning- successful. In the center of the Magical Circle, a tall figure of vague mass stood and regarded the place of her summoning. Annoyance rises in this particular spirit's mind, as she comes to understand the reason she had been summoned for. She would think further on this matter, but thinking was honestly too hard. So she didn't.

Caster yawns, raising her hand to her mouth in a half-assed attempt to stifle it. "Well," she muses, "this might as well happen."

She turns to face her Master, golden eyes blindly gazing through her and into the uncertainty that was her future. With the same rich, resonant tones as before, she asks-

"So, woman, is it you who have summoned me? Or is there another Magus hiding in this room somewhere?"

Pellinore
Servant Rider
Some Local's Basement?

---

A plated set of hands reached out to grab the pale construct by her cheeks, a singular wide and almost manic eye staring down at Plain. With a few experimental tugs at her cheeks, the Servant appraised his master with a hum, lips pursing behind the feature obscuring mask. The silence between the two only grew more and more awkward with each passing moment, but if the Servant before her noticed or even cared was a different matter. The blonde haired servant's gaze finally faltered.

"... Cute."

Plain's cheeks were free from the pinch of the armoured man's fingers, back turned to her. Bringing a hand to his chin, he tapped his foot on the basement floor, coming across as truly exasperated, muttering under his breath. With a clear view of the Servant, the extent of his plated form became clear, his tarmac coloured chest plate placed over a royal red knight's tabard, subtle golden highlights and details found across his armour. Most striking about her new servant, however, was the aforementioned mask, covering every inch of his face besides his left eye and the sunken area around it. The mystery servant had the build to pull off the look too, standing at roughly six-foot-two (give or take) with a rather lean muscled body.

"Master is cute. Inappropriate, unbecoming! A master is meant to be an unattractive hedge wizard, recently abdicating from their musty magus home, abandoning the comfort of their books to, in this rare instance, dirty their hands with the vigors of work..." He rambled in accented English, gesticulating as he talked to himself. He peeked over his shoulder at the woman for but a moment, squinting. "Abandoned not the pages of a study, but a hall of fine dining. No - no. Nothing changes. Formalities!" He declared in accented English, turning around with a flourish, pointing his finger at plain and speaking with a dramatic flare.

"You! Are you my Master?"

Veronica Vivant Velasquez de Flaga

"So, woman, is it you who have summoned me? Or is there another Magus hiding in this room somewhere?"

A woman. A woman had answered her call. From all the heroes of all the legends, she had summoned a woman, though which woman it was and from which legend was unknown to her. A beautiful woman, of golden hair and golden eyes. There was no heroes that comes to mind immediately from that description. Her parameters was acceptable, but surely a Servant that she, Veronica, had summoned would be grand and powerful in other ways.

"..I understand..." Veronica puffed up and stood to her full height. "I understand what you are thinking. You are thinking,'Surely this resplendent, most beautiful and intelligent master could not have been the one to summon me'. However, that is not true. For I, Veronica Vivant Velasquez de Flaga, the most beautiful, talented, and most amazing mage in this war is the one who had summoned you! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO~!!"

Calming herself down slightly, but still wearing that proud look upon her face, she swept her arm in a grand gesture. "Now, Servant! Tell me of your Class and Name! Tell me of your legends that we may claim Victory and the Grail!"

---

Saber

“Very well, Saber. During the night we can choose to battle, but during the day I would rather keep fighting to a minimum. We magi are people of the night. Fighting during the day isn’t really our specialty. But I assure you that your battle can begin soon. During the night, I leave the choices of battle to you. Decide how to fight on your own and I will support you to the best of my ability.”

"Understood, Master. I shall stay my blade, until such a time it is needed."

“You may raise your head. I accept you as my Servant in this war, Saber. I suppose that means our pact is made. Together we shall find victory, mark my words,”

Balyn raised her head, before finally standing up. "Thank you, Master."

Seeing as she wasn't really needed at the moment, Balyn dematerialized. Her master... Well, her master was no King Arthur, as King Arthur would just send Balyn off on a quest, with just his blessing on the matter. Then again, she had never served under a mage before. Her Master seemed like a proud young girl, though more pleasant and cheerful.

However... Even knowing of Balyn's name, and her legend(hopefully), Master was content with letting Balyn act on her own. She could not tell whether it was naivety, or confidence that allowed her to do that. After all, Balyn was sure she wasn't famous for making the best of decisions. But, if that was her Master, her Liege decided, then it shall be so. May her decisions be correct, and her luck unfettered by the Sword she bears.

“Though I may have some matters to attend to as a Magus, if you have any sort of questions feel free to speak with me.”

Balyn hesitated for a moment, before finally speaking. "Then Master, if I may be so rude, what is Master's wish? What is so important, that Master is willing to walk over the prayers of others to offer theirs to the Grail?"

Ravel “Speedstar” Livoria D’Arby

@kusanagifire

"A wish? Hmmmm ..."

Taking but a moment, Ravel pondered to herself.

"I can't say I really have a wish at this time.”

That should be an impossible instance. Those partaking in the Grail War tended to be those who wished to obtain a “wish”. After all, that was the purpose of the war. The Grail was not the Holy Grail spoken about in the legends of Arthur. Rather, it was simply a connection to what Magi wished to reach.

However, even in the cup was merely a false rendition of the Grail, it was still an object of great power. But to obtain this power one had to participate and sacrifice those who would contest the grail against your own Servant. Normally, there would be only 6 additional participants, but in this case the number of class containers was doubled for some reason. Though not naturally inquisitive enough to rationalize any issues with this instance of the Grail War, Ravel would at the very least push forward to obtain the greatest possible outcome.

The Gail in this war was a formality. There was more important and prestigious things to worry about.

“I suppose it is something like ‘I am not sure without having the grail before me what I would wish for’ rather than not having a wish myself. Sorry if that isn’t a really a satisfying answer, but I don’t think it is right to lie to someone who I would be working with.”

Simply put, if the Grail was truly an omnipotent object that could grant the wishes of the holder, this instance of power would be too great for someone to rationalize it through their means. After all, power was something sought after by most all people. That is why there was such a line-up of people within this war. However, that doesn’t exactly mean that one would be able to comprehend, without said power, how one would be able to use it.

Ravel was not naturally someone who demanded power from others. It was merely an instance of necessity. She was forced to act in such a manner in order to obtain what she believed was respite for her family. It wasn’t really as if Ravel had no power to fight against others. There is a difference between being able to fight and wishing to harm others and Ravel tended to prefer not to do the latter.

This was a war, and Ravel knew that. Even if she would prefer not to fight against others, she could not show any hesitation, as that was something which leads more often than not to an untimely death.

“I suppose if I had to think of something though,” Ravel continued “I would want to make sure the disgrace of my family would be repaired. My family was once a prominent magus family, but recently we haven’t been able to produce an heir of any worth. At least, until me. But I think that through my hard work I can alter this fate on my own.”

With hard work and enough luck, a lot of thing are possible.

“How about you then, Saber? I had disclosed what I want to an extent, but I had heard that most Heroic Spirits that are summoned desire something from the Grail. What would you want?

The magi had begun summoning their Servants. Or, rather, it was better to say that they were binding their Servants, gaining their proof of being a Master. Acquainting themselves with their partners, these humans were now true participants of the Holy Grail War.

"-Repeat each thousand times."

However, as the call for a Servant was made by these magi, in a different location, outside of Cusco but outside of it at the point closest to being inside of it, an individual stood calmly before a magic circle. An amount of prana that should not have been capable of being gathered without pulling on the leylines had congregated at this location, and with it, the figure spoke in hushed tones. He had been uttering the invocation for some time now.

"I will not worship. I will not revere. I will not embrace. I will not praise."

Waves were emitted out from the area, with the figure and its magic circle as the center; these waves were of a ridiculous nature that neared multiple aria of the ritual class. It was something that, without question, could not be accomplished by one person. And yet, this individual was certainly alone.

"Defy the divides sought by man. Defy the foundations built upon by man."

Those waves that ripples outwards would be noticeable from an immense distance away. In fact, it was not an exaggeration to say that every magus in Cusco would sense it. All the while, within the magic circle itself, sound and light whirled together.

"...Rage around as you may."

There, that should do it. The young man--only slightly more than a child, really--stepped back from his handiwork, looking it over one last time. He reached up and wiped his forehead, then winced.

"Shit," Bailey muttered as the chicken blood ran down his forehead. He hadn't thought about that. It was bad enough that he was spreading actual chicken blood all over these poor people's kitchen--thank god for tile floor, but he had no idea how long the smell would last--but now here he was smearing it all over his face. He couldn't meet his Servant like this!

A quick run to the bathroom later, he once again stood before the summoning circle, this time with a clean face and hands. He picked up a battered old book on the kitchen counter and opened it to a page bookmarked with a scrap of paper. He glanced between the book and his setup on the floor, comparing the two. As far as he could tell, it matched perfectly. It should, after all the work he put into it. Now to perform the actual ritual.

He read over the words of the ritual one last time--he didn't really need to, he'd read it so many times he was pretty sure he'd recited it in his sleep, but he wanted to go over it one last time--then positioned himself in front of the circle.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill..." As he began to speak, he felt power surging through him. He could do this. He had to do this. If he didn't manage to summon a Servant here, it would be over. He would lose his chance to prove to his father, to the world that he had a future in magic. If this didn't work, he may as well just go back home and beg his father's forgiveness.

The circle began to shine, some of the light coalescing around Bailey's hand, burning an emblem onto it. It was working! He was summoning a Heroic Spirit! Still, he continued his invocation, afraid of what would happen if he let something like excitement stop him.

As he finished, the light flared, then faded, leaving a mist obscuring the humanoid figure now standing in its center. Bailey slouched against the counter, half in relief, half in exhaustion. He'd done it. He had no idea which Heroic Spirit he'd summoned; he had no catalyst, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that he'd succeeded.

Now all he had to do was win the War.

@ConstantlyComic
KRISHNA

From the light, the servant stood in the middle of the mist that obscured his figure. So it was his time to participate in the Grail War. Who had called the avatar of Vishnu to become a servant for war?

The mist had slowly begun to subside and Bailey would see that it was a young man of Indian heritage standing in the center of the magic circle. It was obvious that he was extremely handsome as there was not a single flaw that could be noted on his face. His once shut eyes opened to reveal that they were pure gold in color, giving him an other worldly aura. It wasn't just his appearance that made him feel like that; his presence alone made him appear as if he was a divine being, which wasn't that far off. Strangely enough, for a Heroic Spirit from the distant past, for some reason he was wearing a buttoned down red shirt with its sleeves rolled up, a black bow tie, and a black vest along with black slacks and black shoes. His left eye brow was pierced with a small metal ring and two black bands around his right wrist.

He turned slightly to look at his master, who was rather pathetically leaning against the counter from exhaustion. Krishna twirled one of his dreadlocks with his fingers and smiled at Bailey in a kind manner. "I take it that you are my master, kiddo?"

@hatakekuro



The mist dissipated, and Bailey saw his Servant. The man wasn't quite what he'd expected--the modern clothing was a surprise, and was that an eyebrow ring?--but still, there was absolutely, undoubtedly a Heroic Spirit standing in front of him. The young man's eyes widened, and a huge smile spread across his face. It was like a child at Christmas.

"Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air and did a little jump. It was then that he noticed the symbol on his hand. He had command seals! It had worked! "I've done it!"

"I take it you are my master, kiddo?"

In his excitement, he'd almost missed hearing the question. Right. The figure standing in front of him was his Servant, but he was also a Heroic Spirit--an actual hero from history or legend. He was a person, not a regular familiar like he'd been used to.

"Oh, right." He grinned sheepishly, "Sorry about that. I was a little... excited. Yes. I'm your Master. My name's Bailey, Bailey Clarke." He stepped forward, extending a hand, "And, umm... sorry about this, but could you tell me your name and class? I wasn't using a catalyst or anything, so I don't quite know who you are." Based on the man's appearance, he was probably Indian, but aside from that, he had no idea who this man could be.

@Raijinslayer



As the brilliant and blinding light of the summoning's success died and gave way back to the darkness of the room, he would look upon a visage that would perhaps be....well, rather unexpected for a servant in a war for the Holy Grail. Standing in the center of the summoning circle would be a young girl, sporting Caucasian skin of a perhaps British origin and short, deathly white hair that would perhaps catch a soft but chilling glow when put under the moonlight. She donned a rather "provocative" black outfit which included a bikini-like bottom piece, a sleeveless top that accentuated her small bust, and a pair of long, very tall black socks, and a pair of oddly pink shoes on the bottoms of her feet. Likewise other details of her outfit could be seen, including the bandages fully wrapped around her right hand/forearm and the bandages on her left arm and the long, fingerless black glove also worn on her left hand. A set of four strangely-shaped knives and two butcher's knives would be sheathed on her rear, along with a pouch containing a black, bloodstained scalpel. Overall, she was an interesting if not possibly "abnormal" sight for a servant in a Grail War, many of whom would perhaps be expected to be "larger than life" heroes with appearances fitting their legendary and great stature.

Simply put, this young girl standing in the summoning circle seemed to contradict everything that was a traditional "heroic spirit" in her appearance, though it would be foolish to assume her to be "weak" due to her appearance alone. The knives were one sign of that, as was the fact she had been able to be summoned as a servant in the first place. Her parameters were fitting for her class, and her skills were nothing short of very fitting for an Assassin and killer such as herself. As the saying went, "looks can be deceiving", and this servant of the Assassin class was nothing short of deceptively strong in her own right.

The young Assassin looked about the room for a moment with a look of innocent, childlike curiosity, almost feeling as if she was back in London for a moment, though quickly realizing that the smoke she saw was incense and the darkness in the room was caused by turning off the lights and closing of the curtains and windows in the small apartment. However, the darkness did not phase her. They were used to darkness, after all. Yet upon finally setting her gaze on her master, she noted right away that this man was not her mommy. Nor was there anyone else in this room that could be her mommy. It was a bit sad, but she would make do. This man was her master, after all, and using him to get the grail would allow her to finally go back to her mommy. Wouldn't that be grand?

"We're Assassin," Assassin said in a simple and childlike manner as she continued to stare at her male master with the same expression, her head now tilting slightly in a somewhat cute and adorable manner before she continued to speak in the same manner as before when a new question hit her mind, "Are you our daddy?"

She really wanted a mommy in the end, but she never had a "daddy" before either. It was a matter, however, that she felt was rather "curious" and "interesting" to think about......at least in her own, child-like manner that is.

Charles Dorvain

To say that Charles was a little shocked by the appearance of his servant would be a bit of an understatement, as the surprise was rather visible in the slightly widened look in his eyes and the tilt in his head the coincidentally mirrored that of the little white-haired girl before him. He'd stay still for a second, a small twitch in his eye as his thoughts raced in a thousand directions, before he regained his composure, taking a deep breath before he addressed his new servant, taking note of her strange way of addressing her self.

"I'm your master, though I guess if you wish to address me as your . . . "daddy", then that is your choice." Charles couldn't help but feel a little silly for saying this, but he didn't feel their was any harm in playing along with the girl. Besides, it might instill some greater loyalty if he decided to act the 'fatherly' type, though how he was to accomplish this would be quite the trial. Why do I feel like I've gotten myself quite the troublesome servant. Hmm, I wonder who this child could be in order to be considered worthy for the grail . . . "So, Assassin, what might be your name in life, if you don't mind me asking? I did not use a catalyst to summon you, so I must admit that I have little knowledge of your legend nor your skills, besides those naturally gifted towards your class."

@Holy Grail