@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero




The retreat was perfect in the sense that those who wished to harm his master faded away, as though mere grains of sand in a desert. With them gone, barely a memory to the berserker he found himself thinking once more of his rival. That man did not pursue him, but rather pursued the end of the world. The Persian Empire happened to be part of the world, his great obstacle to Okeanos. To be chased himself was an odd feeling to the Berserker, something that he felt even underneath the madness.

So when that servant appeared, blade in hand and rushing forth in a loud challenge he retorted with his own roar. If he himself would be chased down, if he, Darius the Third were challenged then he would bring forth his own might. The Berserker’s unrestrained dash towards the church ended, his massive bulk ripping a massive wound into the streets as he turned about to face the servant. His feet grinded against the floor and ruptured it, carving a groove a street long as he switched his intent from fleeing to fighting.

One may ask what difference that held from the challenge he brought to that man with the power of the Persian Empire.
In truth? It held none.

A number of ornately decorated skeletons manifested out of nowhere. It was not a matter of them growing from a ritual, or taking form with some dragon teeth. Rather, these dead soldiers, the Immortals, were the power of Berserker. It was then no surprise that they would appear just as easily as the berserker summoned his axes.

Seven appeared, two of them rushing into the winds with their spears. Against the strength of a servant they were shorn into half, crumbling into the winds as dust first before they dissipated as mere energy. The winds however did not advance further. Berserker picked up one of the skeletal soldiers in his massive hand and threw it directly at the slash. The clash tore the soldier to bits and dissipated the winds while peppering the mysterious servant with bone-shards.

With another roar Berserker charged forth, his motion not yet completely stopped, but forcefully reversed by the sheer demanding force he burst into new motion with. The shockwave of his dash sent bits of the pavement as deadly projectiles that peppered the area with craters and holes. A tree was shattered and fell to the ground, sundered. A lamp post whined as it was bent over and sent craning back into the ground.

Of course his soldiers were not motionless either. A duo of arrows flew towards the mysterious servant while the other two charged forth with as much reckless abandon towards the servant with their spears thrust towards her chest. Finally came Berserker himself, two gigantic axes forming in his hand as he swung directly at her, heedless of the fact that she held an invisible blade.

Tesla had heard his master loud and clear as he watched the giant adorned in gold carry his Master towards the Church from the woods. Suzaku would be arriving any minute most likely, it looked like their pet project had been very efficient in annihilating the zombies which had attempted to invade their workshop. His arm hung limply by his side, it was likely going to rot off within the next hour or so, that would have to be taken care of as soon as the invading duo was dealt with. This first night has been very turbulent to say the least. While he had effectively lost his arm, as well had a myriad of other effects inflicted upon him, they had gained something very important out of that exchange. Knowledge. Knowing one of the enemy Servants was Shuten Douji, a Berserker class with Prana Burst and a deadly poison based Noble Phantasm was one of the greatest advantages one could have in a Holy Grail War. Tesla's arm could be replaced and maybe even enhanced given time, but the tactical advantage he had over the Oni King could not be taken away.

Despite the pain that plagued Tesla, none of it showed on his face as the massive man and his master ran to the Church with a sense of haste and urgency, like they were running from something. 'Master, the duo you sensed appear to be fleeing from something. Perhaps they are in a similar situation to us?' As he said this, the thing that had been chasing them finally came into view. Another Servant, this one wielding what appeared to be an invisible weapon with the ability to use the wind as a projectile attack. The golden Servant responded quickly, summoning skeletons to use as cannon fodder and two massive axes to use as weapons. Well, at least it was clear what class that Servant was, only a Berserker can be that chaotic. The other Servant was difficult to get a read on however, so he instead turned his attention to the Master of the Berserker.

Tesla pointed his hand at him slowly, electricity crackling in his palm as he considered the pros and cons of simply killing the Master right off the bat. 'Master, I have found the cause of the disturbance. A Berserker and his Master are fleeing from another Servant. I am going to aid the fleeing duo and try to spark an alliance.' Without waiting for a response Tesla turned his hand towards the cloaked Servant, firing off a bolt of lightning at high speeds to distract them from the Berserker's much more potent attack. Several more shots of lightning followed, each one accurate enough to thread a needle despite both his Migraine and distance. Time to prove why he had been summoned as an Archer.

“Ooh, what is this?”

Curious, so very, very curious. She hadn’t really expected to meet yet another fellow under these circumstances — a tad too presumptuous, considering that her reason to come could have probably applied to any necromancer worth the name, but her surprise at learning just who she had summoned had left her with the notion that there would not be another such coincidence.

Still, it was far from a bad thing — there was always that healthy sense of competition whenever she met a fellow practitioner, and this would doubtlessly be an interesting way to start the night off. Peering through the eyes of her familiars, she observed the approaching forces as her own pets moved toward the graveyard.

Hmm, now, what was the welcoming committee comprised of, again? She could distinguish a few normal ones, but also. . .oh.

Oh, that dog could be a problem. Her smile widened and she giggled into her hand. Seeing as neither magus nor Servant were around from what she could perceive, it would actually be a fight if her pets were to be pitted against them. She had chosen to just send some that had been idling around — no more than five — since it was supposed to be scouting and retrieving materials, but she was glad to have sent an specialized one — it would give her the chance to gather information and get a show, since the things she required for further preparations would still take a while.

Besides, it was so earnest an attempt she just could not bear not to watch it.

“Well then, kindly show me what you’ve gotten up to.”

---

They stilled without warning, vacant eyes turning to observe the sight that greeted them uphill. Originally, their orders had been to secure bodies and resources for their mistress to use, but that had now changed to ‘battle the creatures approaching from the church’.

One or the other meant little to them. If the orders changed, they would adapt to complete them regardless — after all, they had not been given any capacities beyond what Anastasia had deemed ‘necessary’ for them to function and perform in their allotted tasks — all else was secondary. One in particular, clad in what looked to be a heavy coat, approached to the forefront.

It was tall — particularly so compared to its companions, and more than a little bulky, yet when it shed the coat, the head looked disproportionately small compared to the body, fitting a more normal-sized fellow. However, the most eye-catching thing was. . .

—The stupendously ugly scar that ran from its neck to the base of the abdomen, almost as if it had suffered some particularly grievous accident. Its arms were spindly — altogether too thin, giving it a disproportionate appearance on every level, and its hands could hardly be called such, resembling more claws made out of bone.

They moved then, it ran them over the scar, settling over it for a second before the pinions dug.

There was no blood, there were no screams — the flesh parted for them and the moving corpse forced its torso open, but no viscera spilled out. It had been fully hollowed of anything that had been deemed unneeded, and in its place. . .

Like a macabre jack-in-the-box, more claws appeared, this time from the inside, as if seeking to hurry the process along. The entire torso parted down the middle, opening up like a wardrobe to reveal four more pairs of such extremities folded within. The mess of limbs disentangled as the monster stepped forward, its face the perfect picture of serenity as bones clicked into place.

its companions would help, of course, and his main target was the wolf that had earned the interest of their Mistress, but if any chose to approach it, it would kill them all the same.

@EnterTheHero

@ssw @Dosthou




“Hmm, the rat killing went okay but I’ve ran out of cats. So I’m going to take a break. I kind of want to play this time, master, so I’m going to find a playmate!”

And luckily for him… his path was taking him to an ideal new friend. Another boy, obviously not of the era, obviously not a normal mortal was walking down the streets with a smile. A innocent youth whose life was snuffed tragically before his growth that would bring happiness and greatness could come about.

In a sense it was quite like Lancer, if he had remained an innocent fool all his life. A sad affair, at least in the case of that other one.

Not that Lancer really knew. All he saw was that there was a good potential playmate. Another boy that could keep up with him, another boy that was a servant.

Lancer suddenly bounced into the path of Gatekeeper, flying in from a few streets away. A violent approach for sure, yet one lacking malice or any killing intent. “Hey, want to play?” All grins, Lancer held out a hand, without any heed to the bulging of his sack from the grudges from the cats and rats from earlier.

A very odd greeting, a very odd boy.

A boy who simply looked to gain a new friend.

There was really no doubt in Troilus’ eyes as he took the other boy’s hand. After all, if he wanted to hurt him, he would have just attacked, wouldn’t he? The innocent assumption of a child who had never known any hardship, any enemies, all the way until his death.

Well, in this case it was fine, at least. It was lucky that one of the nastier Servants hadn’t found him, but Troilus was nothing if not lucky.

“I’m Tr- uh, Gatekeeper,” He said, grinning in return. “What’s in the bag?” He asked, looking down at it with curiosity. Though it was a little strange, it wasn’t enough to make Troilus suspicious, or scared.

All thoughts of investigating the lights in the sky had already left his head, now that he seemed to have a new friend to play with. And a Servant, too - even if that meant he was meant to be an enemy, it didn’t have to be like that. Since they were both heroes, that meant they could be better friends, didn’t it?

“Hey, Baba!” He said, communicating to his Master. “I found a friend, so I’ll be playing with him for a while.” A thought occurred to him, and he continued. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to leave, was I? Uh, Sorry!” He spoke, lamely. It was an apology without much sincerity, the instinctual reaction of a child who simply didn’t want to get in trouble, without any real regret. He could only hope that Baba didn’t get too mad, but what was done was done.

With that, all that remained was to pick a game.

@Sageage@Froppy

Damn those Matous. As Xerxes leapt from Darius' grip, he landed ready to run again. He had been chased all this way to Shinto town? Had they been routed? No, this attack came from behind. That meant this new servant came from the Foreigner District. all that way in such a short time? As he looked back, his eyes focused to use his clairvoyance, hoping to at least see this stranger's stats. Clearly an enemy, but from the Matous? Another master? No. Another master wouldn't be so brazen to chase like this. And he'd been chased by the Matous this whole time. He'd deal with them later. But first, he had to set up a new base. And the arrival of another servant seemed to complicate things a bit. Judging by the position, they came all the way from the church. So were they allies? Or what? Either way, the church came first.

Xerxes could see the zombies on the hill as he ran from the northern side. Foot before foot, he was running with the knowledge that Berserker was more than capable of dealing with this attacker. If she chased after him, the mysterious servant would probably stop her from pursuing too far or fast. If he got to the church, he'd be fine, and he could talk to the other master.
"Berserker, if the enemy servant retreats, come to me as soon as you can. I will be at the Fuyuki church on the hill. Only fight if they act hostile first." Xerxes ordered, speaking through their mental connection. It wasn't much, but he didn't want Berserker to go running off into an ambush. No doubt this attacker had others coming to help if things went south. The Matous would want their wealth back, though by now that wasn't possible. He could probably pass it off on a third party later if he had to, as long as Berserker's abilities remained unknown.

Ahead, he saw the church, and another man. Clearly a necromancer judging from the battle he could see further down the hill. Xerxes slowed a bit, a hand slowly sliding to his side. His other raised up, palm showing that he was unarmed. "Sanctuary! I seek sanctuary." Xerxes declared, slowing his approach till he was walking. "I need sanctuary in this building. I am being pursued. Please grant me sanctuary." He wasn't sure if he could trust this man just yet, but if his guess was right, this was the Master of the man currently aiding Berserker. "I am a doctor, a man of peace. As if that might help his case.

"And that one's done. Next one, come over here...tch, this would be a lot easier for reference if I could just name you lot, you know."

"We would appreciate it if you did."

Continuing the work on his workshop and other such fortifications into the night, Evan perked up as something caught his notice.

His familiars were naturally still spread across the city, and with the exception of one poor bastard who had been stuck in a bag by what was most definitely a Servant, then cut off by what was at the very least a high-thaumaturgy Bounded Field, then hopelessly destroyed, they had all been going along with their assigned duty and had been observing the city on his behalf.

Entering workshops was obviously foolish, but watching the public areas? An entirely different matter. Besides, Assassin was in charge of going where they couldn't.

-And they had picked up some very interesting things on the first night. Servants streaking across the city, already fighting. A bank robbery for some godforsaken reason. A litany of other occurrences. Master's Clairvoyance was naturally active across the board for these public events occurring across the city, but moreover, this presented an opportunity that a Master of an Assassin was prepared to take advantage of. That was to say, checking out the competition more properly.

There was a certain taboo, he felt, to taking offensive action on the first night. Besides that, blindly attacking the competitors before he knew the precise nature of their valuables was foolhardy like nothing else.

For instance, if he had attacked that girl with the accordion in an attempt to take it from her, he never would have obtained a potential line of access to "that man", which had a value that dwarfed even a thousand golden accordions.

So, in that regard, attacking anyone outright was necessarily impermissible. Instead, he'd simply send out some testing volleys to evaluate the other pairs of the war, namely their magi. It wouldn't do to get into a battle of Servants at this stage for similar reasons, so the best solution was to use his Servant as an intermediary for a battle of magi.

One could say that the "dueling" culture of the Clock Tower was rearing its head in Evan's decision to do this, albeit muted. This wasn't done out of some desire to enter an 'honorable magecraft duel', but rather to get a feel for how his opponents' abilities "on paper" translated to reality.

Well, at any rate, the preparations for something like this had been attended to during the daytime, and Assassin had been entrusted with something from him just in case chaos like this happened during the night, so it was all perfectly fine.

"Alright, Assassin, you're free to give it a shot if you think there's an opportunity. Enhance it a bit more if you can before you head over, then once you're there, Burst it as you toss it in and head off immediately. I doubt this'll do anything too significant given who it is, but it'll be a good test for later."

"Ah, right, and assume that Servant's appearance while you're at it. It can't hurt."

Peering at his creations, the alchemist resumed his work.

Hopefully the other magus wouldn't disappoint.

‘That’ Servant.

Very well.

The plan was simple enough, one which required minimal effort on her part. Lightly tossing the strange device in her hand, an explosive according to her Master, she casually shifted forms from a rotund man with a beaver tail into a smaller, more unimpressive looking man. Completely bland, like plain rice with no seasoning, the perfect culprit for the crime.

The Servant who had the misfortune of being the one to be on the receiving end of the guilt -- his form was taken.



As per instruction, or rather prior knowledge, she had been idly feeding the explosive for a while, dripping malignant ichor into its very being. Even as she played with it like a bored child, tethers of her power clung to it.

With all the dispassion appropriate for her class, the Assassin, disguised as a certain other Servant, lifted her leg up and reared her arm back.

A momentary tap of her demonic power was all she needed for the pitch.

Mana Burst.

She launched the explosive. A veritable thundercrack resounded from her vantage point, a bundle of raw hate, layer upon layer of grudges permeating from it, threatening to detonate and mark the area with an unrelenting curse, streaking between trees and buildings to reach its destination, a bullet with no drop heading right for a window.

For as long as that sound lasted, so too did the drop of her near-perfect self-concealment.

“Kuhaa… how cunning, how cunning.”

Vandalism of property was to be expected in this role, but it still tickled her in a most base and childish manner. To attack their enemies while their guardians were away, how truly deplorable. How ideal.

“This role does please me so, Master. Do think of similar ways to utilise me, won’t you?”

And just like that, she was gone, losing herself among the city streets, a yellow moth on the night winds.

---

“Chop!”

Anaxstolas chopped Berserker right on the head. A painless, almost playful gesture.

He took his hand back, shaking it a little. She was, of course, a Servant at the end of the day. “That was for running away before I got to finish the induction! But it’s fine, I finished it without you,” he said, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest, turning his head away. Peering some details through his Masters Claiyvoyance wasn't too bad, but he was making a point. He wasn't about to tell her 'good work' for running off without him!

“It took some thinking, but luckily I had a lot of processing power to spare for the matter! And the details of your hand from the…” he cleared his throat, “hand holding told me a lot! I used the contact to sort of examine the internal pseudo-biology of your manifested form, by the way. Sorry. Had to distract myself. But anyway!”

He raised a finger, and then pointed it to a tree not too far from the central one, its trunk thick and pulsing with a soothing blue energy from cracks in the bark in the manner a very, very slow heart would move blood. It was only a little bit taller than Ana himself, but it took up quite a bit of space, and its branches were almost lame in comparison to some of the other trees.

“This is my test unit! I did some initial tuning while you were gone, so once we’re done you’ll be able to go hog wild when fighting without killing me! Isn’t that great?!”

Unable to hold a petty grudge for long, he was already intruding on Berserker’s space, face alight with unadulterated enthusiasm. “You’ll get to punch and kick and throw bowls all day with that power of yours, and I won’t drag you down!”

And then he leaned back. “But I’ll need to have the smallest drop of your blood -- and not just anywhere! But I didn’t want to order you to do give it to me, because that’d be rude. So I’m asking.”

He got down on one knee, one hand raised, another to his chest, eyes gleaming with the innocence of an unknowing monster.

“Berserker, would you do me the honour of providing me with twenty-three milliliters of your blood?”

No, Anaxstolas was not about to propose to the literal demon.

They haven’t even had dinner yet. Which was going to be lobster, he noticed. Great!

Where did I go wrong?

The question rang in Gin's head as wine was forced down his throat. As the alcohol ran through his system, so too did the recent events of the night went through his head, from the moment he summoned Chiron. As Gin thought about it more, he began to wonder what went wrong with the ritual. Is it because he didn't secure a proper catalyst? That's absurd, his bokken, stained with the blood of countless vases, should have brought out the strongest of warriors from the grail! Maybe it was because he also brought that damned bottle of sake to the ritual... but why didn't he summon a Japanese Servant, if that were the case? No, there must have been something else, something beyond his power, that resulted in him summoning Chiron, and more specifically, Chiron completely out of his prime...

As Gin looked up to take a better look at the bar, of which he never really got the chance to since he was, again, rushed over by his Servant, he took a glance at the Bartender, specifically. He looked familiar... no, he's sure he never met this specific Bartender before, and I mean, who has the money to hire a fucking god, anyway, but there was something nostalgic about him. It's probably because most Western bartenders wear the same kind of clothes. Gin began to remember visiting a bar some time in his travels, not sure what sort of bar it was, specifically, but it looked a bit like this one, and he remembered having a conversation with the man tending the bar at the time, who did, indeed, wear the same sort of attire the Bartender here is sporting. It was something about his name...

"Gin, eh? Heh, that's funny. Favorite drink o'mine shares the same name, y'know?"

No way. No fucking way.

As the realization came to his head, Gin's body shot up. Catalysts can be strange, especially since they don't have to be exactly physical. If one were to attempt to summon an Assassin, specifically, it is likely that the Master would summon a Servant from the ranks of the Hashshashin, because the word 'Assassin' serves as their catalyst. With that train of thought, it could be said that Gin's own name was a catalyst suitable for the summoning of Chiron. In other words, Gin's Servant could have been determined the moment he was born!

The thought sobered Gin, except not really since he's pretty fucking smashed now, as he strolled over to the bar, pulling himself a stool and letting his bokken lean on the bar right next to him. Damn, I need another drink... Gin thought, groaning as he looked up to the Bartender. "Howbout you make me somethin' with Gin innit?" Gin managed to slur out, resting his face on his fist. "While 'yer at it, could ya also gimme some advice on 'ow to... hm, I dunno, cast some spells, too? Y'sound like y'know it all... An' since when did ya get enough money to hire a god to tend the bar for us, Ite?! Y'could 'ave told me we 'ad one!"

Gin scratched his head as he looked the Bartender up and down, again, still absorbing the fact that a full-blown Divine Spirit was a part of the package. It did make sense that the bar, being a place of worship, would be able to maintain such a being, but to Gin, the whole idea of it going so far as to summon such a being without completely draining his mana supply baffled him. Again, this was a lesson to him that the capabilities of a Servant were far less straightforward than he thought.

Which reminds him...

"Ey, obaasan. Where's dat boy of yours? He asks som' dumb questions, but he was a nice boy... Mebbe we should get 'im a horse! He dun't shaddup about those, don't he?"

They had been walking for a while, Ludwig clearly angry with the man he was basically being forced to tow all the way to this church. Yeah, he didn't have to, but if there was a doctor involved in this whole manipulation and mind control thing, he wanted to at least protect him and save him.; After all, the effects his concoctions and the plans he had for him and Archer, they weren't going to be exactly satisfactory for the other masters. Doing one good deed was going to make him feel a little better for what was down the road.

So as he approached the church hill from the east he began to sense a commotion coming from the way to the Church. Keeping to the shadows best as he could, Archer by his side, he dragged the man to a bush where he quickly ducked into and observed the goings on. From what he could gather...there was a man running to the church shouting for help. Ludwig stared in awe. No way he had struck this lucky. it had to be a set up? Some master must have known, or even had planted the phrase into this man knowing Ludwig would go to the church and seen this spectacle of servants and masters. Breathing heavily he turned to the unconscious man, quickly grabbing him and pushing him into a bush before getting up.

"Archer, could you investigate the servants fighting? Figuring out some identities could be helpful.." he sighed, unstrapping a bright green flask from his belt and got up. "Well, I should be alright...seeing as this doctor was also a target of our Japanese friend.."

He made a dash from the bushes, the mask clad figure streaking through the landscape towards the church, breathing heavily and panting. He didn't bolt for long till he ground to a halt, hands on his knees as he looked to the black haired Xerxes with confusion. "G-get inside...safe...yeah?" He asked, the man clearly out of breath. "I'm here to help, is there someone inside?"

It was risky, he knew that, but if this guy was the doctor he had been told about, someone wanted him dead badly. If anything, this was leading a master straight to him. But the master didn't know Ludwig had met the doctor yet, which meant if anything he had an advantage. However, already Ludwig had forgotten about the poor Japanese "master" he had already encountered.

---

Life. It really was such a complicated thing. Had she not been vacant from this world for so long, maybe she would have felt different walking this foreign soil in a country that she had been led to believe was not too far from her beloved homeland.

Yet here she was, with her master. A shrine was delightful to observe, even if it was not to the gods she was familliar with and as she turned to the woman who had summoned her a small smile crept to Rider's lips. The tall woman with the perfect raven hair was someone who many men had dreamed of being with in her lifetime, yet she had no interest in ever serving a man, in any way possible. She was free, she was a human and she was born to be free.

Being classified as a Servant, was not something she was overly thrilled about, but she took the title in her stride as she did most things. Luckily for her, her master was kinder than others and had chosen this delightful spot. Reminded her of the mountains. of that moment. Of course her master may not have heard of her, yet she was glad history had remembered her. That she had even had the chance to reincarnate as a temporary spirit so that she too might have a chance at winning what she sought the most in her lifetime and in her afterlife.

"Master, do not trouble yourself with the thought of defeat." A warm sincere smile appeared on her face as she tapped the sheath of her sword against the ground. "I never stop fighting for what I believe in, this war is unlike any I have ever encountered before. I will fight those from before and after me, yet they remain the same. Enemies. Enemies in the way of myideal, which is also your ideal. And I will not stop fighting for what I believe in, in this case, that is you."

She nodded to her and swished her robe as she turned to face the landscape before them. "The war is underway and I have yet to encounter any other of my fellow warriors, would it suit you if I remained by your side in this forest or shall I venture out. No matter what I promise you, this war shall not be in vain. We have our chances, there is never a situation where there is no chance. You will survive this, I promise you this." She tapped her other sword to the ground and tied them both back to her back, patting the Polish girl on the shoulder.

"The moon smiles upon us tonight, shall we answer her with blood, or with worship?"

---

"What is this, seaweed? Oh poor Shinji, where have you been?"

Reiki was down on one knee out on the lawn. She was combing through her beagle's filthy fur and looking warily at the plant matter which had become brutally tangled up on his head. Next to the pair sat a metal tub filled with water and a few bottles of bathing products. "Don't you worry though. When I'm through with you you're gonna be as squeaky clean as-"

She paused.

Oh no.

There was no time for proper decision making. Only her basic understanding of safety and danger could dictate her actions in the following moments. What would provide safety? Having lugged the thing outside when it was empty, Reiki was perfectly aware that there was no way she could run with the tub while it was full, not to mention ensuring Shinji came along. As such, she would need a helping hand.

Nearby flowers and shrubs dissolved. The Matous kept a respectable lawn, but most of the flora aside from grass were actually familiars in disguise. With less than a thought, an instinctive command to help Reiki, Shinji, and the tub towards their destination, and a veritable wave of worms pushed the two from behind and below. There was a moment of slowness at the start, but once the swarm tipped the tub the loss of water allowed them to quickly pick up speed. It wasn't far. Just a few more feet to safety.

Overhead, a sort of light-show had begun. By some power of the manor's attacker, the runic defences had been delayed in their activation. Now, however, they had begun to come into effect. Fire, lightning, ice, gravity, blasts of mana, and pure kinetic energy culminated from the runes littering the yard into a prolonged stream with the intent of both pushing back and annihilating the dangerous object in midair.

Reiki, along with Shinji, narrowly made it to the spot she had been aiming for. The two were thrown to the ground by the swarm and Reiki quickly grabbed her dog and curled up as tight as possible. There was still some water in the tub as it came crashing down on top of them, surrounding them, and so the pair immediately became soaked and blind in the darkness under the metal container. Around the tub, the worms that had moved it continued the motion on their own until they completely covered its surface, serving as shock absorbers.

Of course, these were all minor efforts to boost Reiki's and Shinji's chances of survival. The real protective measure was the spot where they had landed.

The gazebo.

This was among the safest places on the Matou property, and likely the one with the highest density of runes. During the meeting with the Whitehalls, Lancer had been confident that even the mighty Berserker could have been safely invited inside without risk to Reiki. Therefore, it was Reiki's first instinctive pick for a safe place. Walls of super-dense ice and stone, protective wards, and even more of the same barrage of offensive magecraft all sprung to life in preparation for the incoming blast. In another second, their strength would be tested.

With the speed of the attack, there was no time to wait and see if the runes in the yard had worked, so the command was given to those familiars inside to brace for impact. Countless objects in the matou home dispersed into slithering worms or buzzing insects that moved as fast as their bodies would allow from the presumed area of impact. The reserve troops in the underground worm-pits retreated into the deepest recesses they could locate. In one particular room, the movements were quite different. This was where the bomb was projected to land, and so they would throw themselves on top of and around it in an effort to cushion the initial blast.

All this with just a few thoughts from Reiki. Knowing she had less than a second until the moment of truth, she covered Shinji's ears.

---

It was certainly an unorthodox way to defend yourself from an attack; but the skeletons that appeared out of thin air did block the wind slash. Although it was aggravating to watch the master run away, the servant facing her now required all her attention. As the skeletal minions were being summoned, Saber was trying to figure out what class she was fighting against; due to his ability to summon minions, as well as weapons, it seemed like he was a caster, but his movements were so weighty and bold; they were clear trademarks of a berserker.

But then, another servant joined the fray, sending bolts of lightning straight at Saber at the same time as the other’s rampaging assault. It caused a visible frown to appear on Sabers face,

“Two versus one? where is the honor in that? There is no glory in comb… Oh fuck this facade! I am not dealing with that right now.”

it did not seem like the odds were in her favor but then again, when were they ever?

“If you want to play it rough, I’ll answer you gladly! come at me then!”

In a single, swift action, Saber raised the sword once again, allowing the wind to gather into a condensed and stormy gale, before she swung, releasing a violent slash of wind, aimed directly at the summoned skeletons. The lightning bolts and arrows that might have struck her down, instead bent along the attack - her Protection from Arrows - tearing apart the ground around her, but leaving their target unhurt. Now all she had to do was kill the maniac.

As Berserker closed the distance, Saber took her sword in two hands and was ready to fend off the attack. In a fluid motion, her sword touched both axes; yet withholding a blow of such immense strength would be straight up suicidal, so instead of blocking the axes head-on, she guided them away from her body and to the ground, shifting their direction without losing momentum. immediately After the axes reached the dirt, Saber placed a foot on one axe to keep it there, while swinging an wind empowered sword slash at the exposed arm holding the other axe.

Madness. Pure madness.

As if a dam had burst, the entire city had exploded into action. Familiars from across the city reported fights, with Hamel making good use of his master's clairvoyance in an attempt to gather as much information as possible from any source he may find.

Superhuman feats were being demonstrated in the open, sparking a panic in him at the violation of the secrecy.

For him it was chaos, pure utter chaos.

Perhaps in a better day, one unaffected by the utter whirlwind that was Lancer, he would have been able to rein in his temper, been able to calm himself before taking any rash actions. Unfortunate for him, mind torn asunder by the utter frustration that was dealing with Lancer and witnessing such brazen acts in public across Fuyuki, he was broken in that aspect.

Then came Lancer once again.

“Hmm, the rat killing went okay but I’ve ran out of cats. So I’m going to take a break. I kind of want to play this time, master, so I’m going to find a playmate!” ...

Lancer suddenly bounced into the path of Gatekeeper, flying in from a few streets away. A violent approach for sure, yet one lacking malice or any killing intent. “Hey, want to play?” All grins, Lancer held out a hand, without any heed to the bulging of his sack from the grudges from the cats and rats from earlier.

Hamel was left speechless.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage against whatever existence found it fit to grant him such a being as a servant, he wanted to admonish Lancer, order him to take out the servant before him, to bring him one step closer to the grail.

Instead he could only be silent. Lancer would not listen, as many attempts to order his volatile servant has proved. No amount of anger would change that. Like a cup of glass dashed upon a stone floor, Hamel's will had broken.

Madness, pure madness had consumed him, and in that moment, as if he was being infected by the same affliction that Lancer carried, Hamel decided to go for a walk.

With a snap of his fingers, he called to him an escort of golems and wisps, equipping himself with a few mystic codes along with him as he prepared to venture outwards.

Queen of Carthage
Workshop, Outside of Fuyuki

Avenger offered her master a smile before saying, "That sounds like a good plan. Let's see who we can find, maybe we can make some allies or learn something about some of our other opponents. It would be nice if we didn't have to worry about trying to take out the big players, like the Whitehall girl or the families, on our own. We should probably start with our immediate surroundings."

It was good that they had come to see things in the same light. It was also good to see him looking more serious, not that she minded the way Christopher had been before, but a situation with no idea of who the enemy is, merits some degree of caution, even in something time limited like the war.

Time was wasting.

Avenger walked over to her master and said, "We should get started while we can, now that we have a plan and a destination. I want to see who we are matched up against in this war and what they can do."

[Moving from Workshop to Shinto Town]

@BlueHelix

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Workshop, Unoccupied House, Southern Moor, Morning

Lilith had settled on this house when she came to Fuyuki. It was out of the way enough that she wouldn't have much in the way of nosy neighbors interrupting her, and the price was extremely reasonable. The previous owner, who was looking to sell anyway, had practically given it away thanks to a quick charm spell, a little flirting, and quick romp. In all, it was a satisfying purchase. Lilith loved what she did.

Now, she found herself in the middle of a sort of storage shed. Inside were some of the acolytes, working to finish the preparations. There were candles set about and enough "materials" to draw the summoning circle. Small animals like birds, snakes, and rabbits, really whatever they brought or found were gathered and drained of their blood. The corpses had already been cleared away though, leaving behind a bucket of still warm blood.

With a smile lf satisfaction, she realized everything was ready and the acolytes had already left her to it, off to rest or work on personal tasks, for the time. She turned her attention to where the circle would be and began.

Before long, she stood before a circle, painted in red on the floor of the shed. The shed itself was dark, so the candles had been arranged and lit, mostly for lighting honestly. With everything ready, Lilith raised her hand, before having an idea, and cutting the tip of her finger, adding her blood to the circle. That done, she once again raised her hand, this time gathering mana into her circuits and infusing it into the circle. The she began to chant.


Such a boring chant. I really should have taken the time to create something more...fun.


I wonder who I will be paired with. What kind of spirit will I attract? I hope someone with a sense of humor. Maybe good looks.


This is exciting. Almost like gambling really, the game of chance. A roulette to see what hero will answer the summons.



And with a flash, the lgiht that had been building vanished, leaving behind the figure of a servant.

Well it got the beauty part down for sure.
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Workshop, Newly Occupied House, Southern Moor, Night


Lilith stared at her command seal. It sat on the back of her wrist, marking her as master to all, unless she chose to wear gloves of some sort. What kind would look good though? It probably doesn't even matter.

She turned her attention to her servant. The dark haired woman had said she was an assassin, perfect for her really. Direct engagement wouldn't be wise, but that was fine by Lilith. They could just avoid the other servants and kill people indirectly, or gather allies and support them.

"Giulia, what would you like to do tonight? I think I should spend tonight improving my defenses and creating more familiars to help spy on our enemies." She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I will defer to you though, what do you think would be the best use of tonight? We could go out and look for something fun to do, or we could stay in and find something fun to do here," she said as she offered her servant a smile and a brief suggestive look.

@DostHou

@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero @scallop @kyoka




The two spearmen surrounded Saber from behind as she flew in, the two archers dropped their bows that were deemed now to be useless with the revelation of Saber’s ability against projectiles, charging forth in a rush to grab at the servant from the sides so as to aid the Berserker, rather than simply get in his way. The rush of Saber was a miscalculation, eagerness brought on by her immunity to the attacks of Archer and some of Berserker’s soldiers. Her commitment would become that of one into danger.

Most of all however she underestimated the ability of the Persian Emperor to act himself. A weapon is an important thing, but a weapon that cannot be used was no longer useful. Even in his madness the Berserker understood such a thing. So he abandoned it. The axe faded into nothing, dematerializing and leaving Saber with no footing, tripping her up and reversing the momentum so that Berserker was now the one in the position to strike. At the same time Berserker swung up, an uppercut flying towards the servant’s chest to capitalize on the opportunity presented.

To retreat backwards was to choose the spears, the sides were taken up by the archers. Like the stampede of a war-elephant, Darius’s fist flew towards her.

@ssw @Dosthou




“I’m Lancer.” the youth said with his beaming smile. Hardly one to be idle he began to walk around Gatekeeper in a circle, dragging his heels against the ground as he did so.

The fact that Gatekeeper commented not on the strange garb that made Lancer look quite silly and foolish simply was a testament to his purity. One could say that children all held such a quality, yet there were those who would no doubt focus in and hone in with derision that came only with youth. Belittlement and attacks that came without true malice, or came out of a dislike that was also pure was sometimes the most painful.

Yet Gatekeeper was indeed what could only be called a beautiful youth, a beautiful boy who in mind and body held something that could only be kept as a thing to cherish.

In contrast the fair, but ill-garbed appearance of Lancer was also fitting to his personality. No malice or illness were held with him either, but nor was it the presence of niceness. Indeed, unfettered in a sense by normal values, even the diluted form children normally held, he was more dangerous than a unpleasant child.

Yet the two held some common ground, and so it was not a surprise that they simply accepted each other as children who sought a friend, a peer.

“The bag used to have cats. I had to kill some rats, so I got some fish so I could get some cats! But I’m all out of cats so I’ll have to get some more. I’m on break, so I decided to look for a friend, and then I found you.”

He held up the bag towards Gatekeeper… only to pause and tilt his head to the side. Lancer only now noticed the oddity that had come to permeate the bag. “Hmm, that’s weird…” he murmured before giving off a shrug. “Oh well. Now’s the time for playing.” The grudges were simply dismissed, irrelevant to the focused world of a child.

“Why don’t we play with a ball, or look for something fun?”

Night had come quicker than expected to the land Martin now walked, the sun setting in the glorious west as shadow and starlight began to creep quickly over the fields and acres he now owned. It had been simple enough to buy the land, a small fortune to claim perhaps the largest few patches of land within the northern section of the western farmlands, but a pittance compared to what it might have cost in a more civilized nation. As when he was a child, Martin now found himself a landed gentleman with plenty of locals willing to till the fields and bring in whatever harvest the land could provide. What's more, he now had apprentices and acolytes to defend his holdings, rather than simple overseers.

Since their arrival to that heathen land, they had begun their work oh so dutifully. Erecting altars, preparing ritual spaces, and setting up bounded fields to ward against those who might seek to stick their nose where it didn't belong. The many farm houses they now possessed would serve them well as outposts and ritual sites from which to conduct their true work. He sat now upon a simple chair overlooking his newly gained property, a glass of tea in hand and a trusted attendant by his side. It was a familiar enough scene for him, regardless of the new land.

Yet there was a stranger in all this, the spirit he had summoned to represent himself and the O.S.C. in the coming conflict. In truth he had expected something more... mythical when he performed the ritual. A great barbarian hero, or perhaps a chivalrous knight to fight for his cause. Rather than either of those, he was met with a young woman, lovely and seemingly fragile as a rose. In truth though it mattered little, and he would play the hand he'd been dealt. They had introduced themselves, as was proper, and the sorcerer invited her out to enjoy the night air with him.

"My dear, we find ourselves in quite the precarious position. Between the families, their allies, and all manner of other lesser organizations and independent agents, this is certain to be quite an eventful affair. As such, caution is our best approach in the early stages and what I require of you is a trustworthy set of eyes and ears. After all, one must know their enemy in order to defeat them. I would have you scour the city for other masters, and the locations of their workshops. Do not engage anyone, and if you are discovered do not lead them back to us. That said I am more than confident in your skills, I'm certain you won't disappoint me."

Tesla frowned as his lightning was neatly redirected in but one swing, it would appear as if basic projectiles wouldn't work against this Servant. Annoying to be sure, but it just meant he would have to step things up a notch. He began to channel more power into his hand as he aimed at the dueling Servants, the frown on his face fading as he aimed upwards and shot into the air. The lightning disappeared into the clouds, leaving Tesla to observe the approach the Berserker was taking in this fight.

"Ah, a classic strategy. Surround the opponent from all sides while they're unbalanced, they have to take a hit somewhere. Well, if this was a normal opponent all their routes would be cut off." Indeed, a Servant could've easily taken the vertical route and taken to the air to avoid the assault by Berserker. The keyword being could've, as the lightning bolts that had taken to the skies were now falling upon the mystery Servant with extreme prejudice, these bolts of energy looking much bigger and much more unstable. Indeed, there would be no protection from these bolts, as they would simply explode upon contact with anything, be it the ground, a weapon, and especially an enemy Servant. The downside to tactics like these is how easily one could injure allies, but that wasn't too worrying for Tesla. Either the Berserker would dodge or it would be hit and continue the fight. And if he accidentally killed the Servant well, that's one less opponent in the war isn't it?

And Tesla didn't stop with just the one volley he had shot into the sky, he was now making sure to pepper the battlefield around the Servant with explosions of lightning in an attempt to fry the intruder. Tesla's grin only grew wider as he laughed aloud, perhaps this night hasn't been so bad after all.

---

The situation really wasn’t in favor of Saber. Not only was she outmaneuvered and outsmarted; she was outnumbered. There was not a single mind alive who would place their bets on Saber winning; and yet, there was no sign of doubt or fear within her as the situation worsened. Perhaps she was used to these events, or perhaps there was simply no reason for those concepts, but the Saber in the here and now was simply not about to be struck down so easily.

Staying as she was would be completely useless, as both berserker's fist, and the lightning bolts would hit her full force, but surrounding her from every direction were summoned skeletons, making an escape very risky as well. But in this chaotic moment, chaotic movements were required.

And so, Saber placed a hand on her stomach reinforced with a barrier of wind to reduce the damage of the uppercut. While the momentum of the punch and wind caused her to spin around her axis; she used that rotating movement to her advantage, releasing deadly wind slashes against Darius and the skeletons. After reorienting herself, she then used one last wind burst, and propelled herself out of reach of the lightning bolts just in time.

“Man you almost had me there didn’t you? Although I can’t really consider it skill, what with the guy in the back shooting his ass off to save you.”

Rider wasn't surprised that his opponent easily redirected his body check with a throw, intuition aside. If this were a battle where he would want to go all-out, then he wouldn't have opened himself to such a technique in the first place. Experiencing first-hand the art of Pankration in action by one of its best students, however, was an opportunity Rider did not want to pass. Of course, this was another privilege open only to the likes of Rider, who is quite frankly hard to destroy.

A grin formed on Rider's face as Lancer performed his throw. It was strange, as his previous attack had just been countered completely, it's as if he was some sort of masochist. With Rider's instincts, however, which are at the point where they could be considered a type of precognition, he could have foreseen what's to come in the next few seconds. But what was there to smile about aside from Rider trying to make himself into a handsome crater?

"You truly are a great hero, but..."

All Rider did to brace himself was reinforcing his body. Aside from that, he allowed himself to slam to the ground, as if he were deliberately letting himself get thrown. When Lancer's fist soon followed, which Rider was able to see using his instincts, he jerked his head sideways at an attempt to avoid the blow, albeit half-heartedly enough for the blow to, at best, just graze him. Despite his instincts, which have already attuned to Lancer's speed, warning him of oncoming attacks, Rider was still just a bit too slow to avoid them easily unless he were already in a favorable position from the start, like when he had his shield up during Lancer's initial charge. Adapting to Lancer's speed meant finding a way to make his speed a non-factor, which was why Rider let Lancer throw his punch.

The next series of events happened in just a mere second.

Letting his shield dematerialize in his spirit armory, Rider launched his hand towards Lancer's arm as soon as the punch connected, whether or not it hit his face or the ground behind it. Gripping his arm tightly and pulling down as if he tried to keep him down with him, Rider let go of his fist just as quickly. He wasn't trying to pull him, it seems, but rather, he was keeping him in the perfect position just long enough for his armor to blast him upward.

Rüstung von Ortnit, the golden armor that Rider was wearing, sported a rather unique property that was meant for a specific mode of combat. It was made with the intent that its wearer would be surrounded by many enemies, as its original owner was tasked with venturing forth into territory claimed by their enemies. The property in question, refraction, allowed for hits to have their force redirected away from their intended target, as if the attack just went through the wearer. With this logic, it means that if force were applied to one end of the armor, it would simply blast out of the other.

And since Rider was being thrown to the ground and Lancer had positioned himself just on top of Rider, all Rider had to do was keep Lancer in that same position in order to turn his own attack against him.

"... You should know not to give your weapon to a looter like me!"

Whether the blast launched him skyward or just disoriented his opponent, Rider gripped the spear in his hand tightly. Lancer's titular weapon, and one he would so easily give away, if only for a brief moment. To Rider, however, who is known famously for using his opponent's weapons against them, this was something completely favorable to him. While he had no real way of stealing it at this time, and he did not intend to in the first place, Rider was interested in seeing the effects of Lancer's weapon in action. From what he has gathered so far, the spear had no intrinsic effect of breaking through armor like that traitor's sword. So Rider instead lunged the spear upward, throwing it if he had to, centered specifically to hit the only spot his opponent had left unarmored; his face.