"I understand the... Nervousness of such a meeting. Your master has no doubt heard of the ever increasing dangers the war is bringing on. I understand why they have likely remained safe in their home." Roland wasn't one to judge, since he himself had tried to convince him master to remain at the Einzbern manor and let the servants travel around and get involved in the war. Naturally, the horse man refused, feeling the need to help the people. Roland of course, let him. He was a hero, not a kidnapper, and would never force such a man to work against his own will. In fact, he was jealous. Such desire, to fight the odds without a upper hand like a servant. How noble. How... Admirable. It made him feel alive again.

The sword thrown at his feet was picked up from the ground, and clutched in his hand. It was nowhere near the power of the other sword the Rider wielded, but it carried a mystery, much like the other blade given to him the other Rider who followed the Einzberns. He wondered for a while what that Rider was up to. He was indeed a powerful man, but his master played him far to defensively. He expected that man to probably be pacing at that manor now, itching for any kind of battle against a foe he could consider on his level. Roland hoped that man would find his battle. But for now, Roland was searching for his own, and such a man would be dangerous for such a hunt.

"You saved my life." Roland said, as if replying to her talk about his actions. "I doubt I would have had the chance to escape if you hadn't done what you did. Even if the fires did spread, I won't tell anyone. As a paladin of my uncle, it would be nothing short of an insult if I attempted to turn you in after saving my life. I'm no criminal, or assassin." Placing the second sword in a new sheath on his belt, he reached out with his unaltered arm to shake Trieu's own. "I owe you a great deal, and I will owe you again once this mission is over. Once I have regained my blade, I shall give you an honorable duel. From one great hero to the other." There was a smile, and he was looking into the distance.

"Well, when you're ready." Roland let out a smile, as that idiot hero began to march out of the Moor. His eyes focused on the future. "So, do you have a name? Mine is Roland. I feel it would be dishonorable of me to not inform you, since I owe you such a debt."

Tesla stared into the sky with what could only be described as a mixture of confusion and dread. He had begun to aim at the thing that fell from the sky a few seconds ago, but the moment he did something within him screamed, it wailed for him to desist if he valued his life even remotely. Upon closer inspection the thing could only be described as a comical penguin of sorts, falling to ground directly in front of the Church. All defenses were disabled immediately, he was not going to incur whatever penalty may lie from attacking this thing if he could help it. He also wasn't going to go anywhere near it, so he dashed inside the Church the moment the thing touched the ground as the penguin began to look around for whoever it was supposed to deliver its message too.

A few minutes passed before the front door opened suddenly, a strange black thing being thrown out as the door was immediately shut once again.

---

The strange little thing got up onto its feet, roaring at the door in a squeaky yet loud tone as it banged on the wood with as much ferocity as it's 4 foot frame could manage. After about a minute of this it began to pant as it fell onto its butt, hands on knees as it glared at the door. What a rude creator Tesla was, he could have at least let it walk out on its own. It set out to do its task regardless as it got back up and walked over to the confused penguin, grunting out a greeting as it waited for the small bird to give its message.

GREETINGS MASTER AND/OR SERVANTS OF THE SECOND HOLY GRAIL WAR IN FUYUKI. DUE TO RECENT ISSUES REGARDING THE MAGES ASSOCIATION, I WOULD LIKE TO HOLD AN EMERGENCY MEETING IN ORDER TO RECTIFY THIS ISSUE. THE LOCATION SHALL BE IN THE DIVINE DESCENDING DENOUEMENT (DDD )HOTSPRINGS. I WOULD ASK THAT YOU ATTEND IN PERSON, HOWEVER INPUT REGARDLESS OF SOURCE WILL BE IMPORTANT. THIS MEETING WILL BE HELD AT SUNDOWN. BRING YOUR OWN BEER.



The clockwork familiar grunted in response, turning to see if its creator had opened the door yet to let it back inside. Still nothing. It turned back to the penguin and stared, wondering what it was supposed to do now. Well, it could follow the penguin it supposed. Perhaps it could carry it around? That could be fun. With that being decided, it turned around and vaguely motioned for the delivery penguin to get up on it's shoulder as it crouched down. Time for an adventure.

Oh.

Oh.

There was a penguin on the boat.

Why was there a penguin on the boat?

Apparently to inform her of a meeting.

Well then.

Looks like it was time to go to the meeting the only way she knew how.

"Mary~ I've got a job for you~"

She also had to figure out if the penguin would be open to putting a mask on.

She didn't have any penguin masks.

---

The kid's training had completed, and so he had departed as the day had begun.

...however, not long after he had departed, someone else arrived.

A penguin, but the penguin in question was of a different make than those at most of the Master and Servant locations across the city.



"GREETINGS MASTER AND/OR SERVANTS OF THE SECOND HOLY GRAIL WAR IN FUYUKI. DUE TO RECENT ISSUES REGARDING THE MAGES ASSOCIATION, I WOULD LIKE TO HOLD AN EMERGENCY MEETING IN ORDER TO RECTIFY THIS ISSUE. THE LOCATION SHALL BE IN THE DIVINE DESCENDING DENOUEMENT (DDD )HOTSPRINGS. I WOULD ASK THAT YOU ATTEND IN PERSON, HOWEVER INPUT REGARDLESS OF SOURCE WILL BE IMPORTANT. THIS MEETING WILL BE HELD AT SUNDO- wait, shit. Chiron? Donnie? Is that you guys?"

Near the end of its pre-instructed tirade, the deformed penguin cut itself off, looking to the manager and bartender in disbelief. Silence reigned in the bar for several seconds before any of the present parties were able to compose themselves enough to speak up.

"...wait a minute, Pinkheironuínos?"

"Pin? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Waddling forwards, the penguin shook his head in disbelief. "God, what has it been, two, three thousand years? Wish the boss told me you guys were here, I would've swung by earlier. And you've got the bar set up too! Emperor Penguin's sake, I've got to tell the rest of the old guard, they'll be excited as hell." Clapping his hands (flippers?) together, he let out a sharp, penguin-like laugh of glee.

"Ha! So the old bastard's still around? Still a slave driver?" The tired facade he'd possessed in the aftermath of Gin's training leaving him, Chiron leapt forwards towards the near arrival, eyes glinting.

"The boss is the same as always, but we got this secretary broad a while back." 'Pin' shook his head, letting out a dull groan. "God, if you think the boss is a board, you have no idea. She's been throwing a fit all week, something about not getting her vacation hours, and she's been taking it out on us."

"Ouch. Tell ya what. Get a drink, on the house. Least ya conceptual origin can do ta help ya. If ya get the othas down here, same for them."

"One glass of penguin wine, coming up."

"You guys are too good to me."

What remaining soldiers remained had taken to looting a number of houses with their lord as they waited for further instructions. To be a servant was to stand as an exemplar of humanity as a star, yet subservient no matter how many lands one owned in life to a modern man.

Well, whatever the case it hardly mattered whether or not he was subservient or in-charge. With more than half his army decimated in mapping out the marshes, Berserker faced a large deficit that needed to be covered. In the short team he would be able to fight, even if he would be a pale shadow of the heights he could theoretically reach. But a solution was required, either one for the long-term or of a plunder great enough to take care of all such issues.

...and there so happened to be a treasure, a great weapon that was a peerless weapon. As a spear alone it was priceless, but as a crystallization of myth, a piece of a legend it was beyond simple monetary value.

Berserker moved without any hesitation, taking the straightforward-most path, heedless of who may notice him, and bulldozing even homes in his wake as he charged for his prize. It would not matter who came, even if it was that hero who was the fastest and the mightiest of one of the most famous wars in human myth. The power of that spear would give way to the power of Persia, and even with his mind clouded, he was certain that even that man could not stand against his immortal army.

It was certainly reckless.

Yet a charge like that was only fitting to grab at the spear of the man who lived life as a comet.

A soft sincere smile spread across the woman's face as she nodded at the knight. Truly he lived up to her expectations, honourable and fighting for what he believed in. True she had feared he would turn her in if it meant he may get his master another command seal, but it seemed he cared not for what his master thought as much as she did. But for her, Kat was merely just buckling down whilst she did all the work, understanding her master was not one designed for combat.

"Yes, after this is done, and we have regained your honour and weaponry, I expect a worthwhile duel from you, I haven't had the good fortune to achieve one honourable battle yet throughout this war, however" She smirked as she opened her arms up, widespread before her. "We will not be walking to our enemy, I believe he may be on the oppsoite side of this town, therefore we will need speed on our side." With that, the word NANYUE burst from her lips and the air before he distorted and twisted till before the both of them, the golden armoured elephant appeared, rearing it's trunk with a trumpet as it greeted Lady trieu.

"Triệu Thị Trinh is the name my people called me, but you may know me as Lady Trieu. It is a pleasure to meet you Roland" She leapt upon Nanyue and shifted atop his back and reached out to the knight. "Whilst we are atop Nanyue no harm will come of you, a warriors promise, now we ride and find that dishonourable thief"

The Yakuza focused on entrenching themselves into what territory they had, making sure to keep control of their larger places of operation while migrating away from the smaller ones. As they traveled throughout the night, in groups, to the larger territories they owned, they focused more on protecting the refugees under their belt than they did with whatever resources they had previously. They were forced to travel light, after all, looking to get to their destinations as fast as possible. On the bright side, they had the aid of two exceptional martial artists; the Horse of Fuyuki, and, uh... a foreign girl named Riyu. However, between the rioters, the Mafia, and rumors of a bloodsucker roaming the streets, the Yakuza were having a rough time. They would accept just about any help given to them at this point...

---

---

Marching through the wasteland known formerly as Miyama Town was a man, one whose greatness rivals the vastness of the plains that he walked. He wore a long, white coat with its collar popped, mostly plain aside from the writing printed on the back in an Eastern script; it would read '藤•村', or in English, 'FUJI•MURA'. Underneath this coat was nothing but a pair of trousers, revealing some of the man's expectantly toned physique. His trousers were made of denim, a rather rare fashion choice for a man of this era, especially in the East, as they clung somewhat tightly to his legs. It was unknown if his belt buckle, a horseshoe pointing up, was a symbol of fortune, a callback to a fond memory, or just a love for horseback riding. His boot, which were embroidered in a way similar to the ones seen in the American West, indicated that it might have been the latter, with only a pair of spurs keeping the ensemble from being complete.

None of these things, however, were as notable as the man's hair. Standing upright and shining as the sun's rays bounced off it, it served as some sort of insignia, or symbol that would best identify the man in question. Like the top of a mountain, the roof of a skyscraper, or the sorin of a pagoda, it stood tall. It was a sandy brown beacon of human providence, hopes and dreams piled high on its bushy peak. It was a pompadour, a hairstyle that, while unpopular in the current age, would soon be the iconic symbol in the future for an age of cool. It was a fitting hairstyle for a man who has become 'human prosperity given form.'

As the man continued traversing the wastes, the sun had begun to shine over his face to a point where even his glorious could not shade his eyes from its bright rays, he simply dug a hand into his coat pocket. From it, he produced a pair of spectacles, tinted black, in a style that's so not fitting the current era; indeed, it wasn't that it was 'too modern,' no, but that it was 'too cool' for the current time period. Putting the sun-glasses on, the man once known as Gin Yoshiyaki marched forth for his destination, no longer blinded by the bright future ahead of him...

---

Back again. Achilles sighed and ran a hand through his hair, determined to take it slower this time around. To begin with, perhaps attempting to simply dart around the forest at full speed and hope for the best was not a conductive strategy, and he could not afford to mess this up.

Else Chiron might actually kill him. Or ground him. Either or.

He took a deep breath and concentrated this time, sharp eyes scanning the terrain for any signs that would point him in the right direction. There came an abrupt point, however —

“. . .Huh, someone actually fought here?” He brought a hand down to inspect the tracks left on the earth from the impact of weapons, trees uprooted around him. “Recent, too, from the looks of it. . .”

Something cold dawned on the pit of his stomach, but he ignored the feeling.

It was absolutely fine. His spear would still be around here. Surely.

It couldn’t not be. That was impossible, unthinkable, so there would be no need to fly into (another) homicidal rage. He was calm, he was cool, everything would go smoothly and he would be able to show himself before his teacher without needing to fear for his life. . .much.

He exhaled.

“Right, let’s get to it.”

Ignoring those thoughts for the moment, he concentrated on finding his lost treasure, inspecting the path before him as well as any signs that would paint a clearer picture of what had happened recently.

At the very least, the fact that there was something meant it was automatically better than trying to find his way blind with only nondescript trees for company, so he would take it as a good sign and continued wading deeper into the forest.

“I should also make sure he never learns that all this came about from a botched throw, else. . .I don’t even know what he’d do.”

Perhaps some would consider him foolhardy to walk into potential enemy territory so earnestly and almost distractedly, focusing more on looking for clues than potential attacks even though he was a Lancer that had lost his spear, but he would just say that his Master had offered a fine replacement and there was no point in avoiding it if he suspected his father’s gift was around here.

@Breo



The army of Persia swarmed over the forest, swarming like locusts and devouring all that was present. Idols and talismans were thrown into the door. Skeleton warriors clutched various spirits in their hands and dived into the tomb that was the final resting place of Darius the Third, adding the energy of the spirits to their liege. More and more the Athánatoi regrew, warrior after warrior manifesting in response to the magical energy claimed, plundered and redistributed.

But it all paled to the grandeur of one prize.

He stood before the spear, a ragged growl of a breath coming from him, his chest heaving for a bestial growl. The spear was a work of beauty. A peerless treasure among treasures. As a relic, as a legend it was certainly unmatched. Connected to one of the greatest heroes in the world whose name was celebrated everywhere the light of civilization reached. Any would hold it in awe, and any hero would hold it in high regard out of respect for that man. Even those who held him as enemies, those who absolutely detested him and died with their last moments dedicated as a grudge to him would feel awe at the weight of his legend.

Yet what he saw was something that was more poginant, more valuable to him.

What was a legend? The muddled thought went through his mind.

Iskander…

Iskander..

Iskander. . .

A legend was something that struck awe, that one admired. The spear before him was indeed a legend of humanity.

But more importantly it was a legend to that man



His roar shook the forest, sending a few of his men flying. Passion, absolute passion was filled in him as he took the spear in hand. This time he would strike at what was valuable to him. This time he would plunder that which formed his dreams.

To go beyond his legend.

To go beyond opposing the dream of okeanos to plunder the dream of the man who dreamed of the Iliad.

The spear sunk into the door. Achilles saw the spear.

It disappeared.

In its place came the legend of Darius, in full strength. No, exceeding the power that it held as a legend.

The magical energy that surged was enough to blind as suddenly the ten-thousand immortals walked the earth once more. Wreathed in a potent magical energy that exceeded their normal limits. He would become more than just a wall that withstood the dreams of that man.

No.

Darius turned towards the man who would no doubt come to avenge the plundering of his spear.

He would destroy the adored dream of that man.

He would never accept that king's authority. He would never allow him to conquer and win peacefully. It was not a matter of hatred, it was not a matter of jealousy as that man ruled in the way that he himself admired and longed for. In a sense he opposed his own ideal, that man similar to the First King that he saw as the station of a ruler to emulate as an ideal.

He became a king that existed as something to turn his emperor into an engine of war.

He was the final wall, the wall that contained an ocean, the world.

So long as he lived the man who conquered so much of the world would be denied and defied.

That was his hatred.

That was his love.

His axes crackled with electricity and his army formed themselves into a menagerie of monsters. Twisting the various works of Persia into that which slaughtered, that which warred.

The door that held the riches that allowed him to defy the greatest conquerer. The tomb where he rested after that long endless battle, undefiled even as he was slandered by all the people. The mercy, the respect and acknowledgement that he earned from his rival with his life.

The army that stood before him as an endless sea of war. Undying, unrelenting. If they had to match the endless war of the Illiad they would do so. If they had to overcome it they would do so.



The noble phantasm’s name was declared. It was not an invocation for the army was already there. But it was a challenge. This was his power, this was his empire that would conquer the dreams of the conquerer.

So he turned towards Achilles.

Even if he could not put it to words. Even if it was a twisted thought. Earnestly for this moment he believed fully. “I will defeat you.”

Pied Piper(Caster)Gossip boi

Reaching out to chaos

"Saber..."

"Archer..."

"Lancer..."

"Berserker..."

"Rider..."

"Caster..."

"Avenger"

"All of this classes have shown up on my feeds on each corner of the map and yet the Assassin class hasn't made any news lately. Perhaps there is something that I'm not aware off, Even though this class excels in eluding others, I should get a tiny hint on what their activities are since I practically own every network of familiar spies in this country." The Rat king sighed with discontent while he skims through the history of the past events.

Something needs to change. Perhaps an agent of the shadows will spice things up for the best. The man-made riot was a success, but that was his master's doing. The Bard just sits there and feels the need to do something to measure up to that standard. This holy grail war is getting really dull and passive since the last two servants died. I need something to speed up the process. Caster plotted and picks up a piece of invitation that his familiar gathers.



as far as the Familiar to Familiar interaction goes, It safe to say they do not like the Penguin messenger. Piper's dorty rats violently hiss on the adorable bluebird as they yank the note out of its flippers with any hesitation like the crook that they are and scurries back into the darkness where they belong.

Piper read the note once more and pondered for a while. "This is for master Enzo to decide if wants to participate in this trivial matter" He sighed and leans on his principal chair, spinning around it out of boredom to pass the time while he's inside his personal office. @Seirei no Hai

Piper looks back at his multiple 50-inch monitor projection screens, and sees something is amiss, It appears there's an extra element to the man-made war that Enzo has started. His familiars can sense a foul energy near that parts that even match or surpass the Rat Kings's foul presence.

After much thought, He contacts his trusty familiar, Ratface.

"Hey there, Ratface, It's me, ya boss.. be a dear and investigate the unknown disturbance in the native district, I'm sure you'll understand since I'm running a school and all. You know very well, I can't leave my job and have these scamps running amok without anyone watching over them..heh, I sure do love them kids..so youthful and full of life..." He grins and looks at his office window, peeking at the innocent students playing around the schoolyard.

"Also, carry out a message for me while you're there, do it discreetly and I hope to get results by the end of it. If not, you already know what happens to rats that don't meet my expectations. You remember well your prototype, Wilber? I heard he didn't squeak that well, Don't disappoint me.. good luck" Piper said with a calm yet sinister tone to his familiar henchman.

---

Dropping Ted under the custody of Piper's other familiars for protection, The curse monstrosity is on a solo mission to find the source of this explosion near the Western farm district. He dissolves in multiple pieces of rats, traveling underground in multiple pacts, sneaking past the feud between the muricans and the local yakuza clan and hopes to find this supernatural being that's been rumored to show up in this parts of town.

Piper wants every bit of information or gossip he can squeeze within this city if he wants his master to succeed in taking over. Afterall, as the saying in the future murican cartoon series goes, Knowing is half the battle.

@floodtalon

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

The sky over Ireland was dark with the blacks and oxford blues of midnight. Through the heavy cloud cover, only the barest fragment of moonlight fell from the Heavens, casting the large manor in the middle of the Irish countryside in meager light. The estate of a certain magus, last of his line. One who sought a battle greater than he could truly imagine. The known details scared him little. The unknown variables terrified him. However, in this instance, his desire was stronger than his fear.

"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation."

The young man was standing in the largest room of his home, one where his great grandfather bestowed the sum total of his family's knowledge to him. The room was lit by several torches that burned brightly, and in the center, the young man stood over a strange circle with a pentagram within. Grasped in his right hand was a piece of blue cloth, torn and tattered, and more ancient than anything else in his home. He placed it down on the circle.

"Let azure be the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Repeat every five times. Destroy each when filled."

The flames began to tilt, as if caught in a breeze. Seeing as they were indoors, and the room had no windows, this was peculiar indeed, but the young man paid it no mind. He had a great task to focus on. He held his empty hand over the circle and continued.

"I declare. Your body shall serve me. My fate shall be your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you submit to my will and reason, then answer!"

The circle let out a burst of light, and a rushing wind filled the room, snuffing out the flames of all the torches. The light of the circle illuminated the room in their place, bathing everything in its otherworldly blue light. The piece of cloth began to shake and tremble in the middle of the circle, and the young man put his other arm over his face to protect from the light, but continued nonetheless.

"An oath shall be sworn here! I shall be all the good in the world! I shall defeat all the evils of Hell! Thou Seventh Heaven, clad in the three words of power, come forth from the eternal ring! O protector of the heavenly scales!"

The light exploded outward, filling the room and forcing the young man to close his eyes from its radiance. A powerful shockwave reverberated through the house, making the walls tremble and groan. All of the lights in every room went out simultaneously when the light suddenly imploded, leaving the hot glow of the circle, which had been burned into the floor of the room. In the center, stood a the figure of a man. The young man slowly opened his eyes to take in the visage of his newly summoned familiar. His Servant.

It was done. He was a true Master, and he couldn't fight the grin that sprang to his lips.

It was a cataclysm.

The Fifth Imaginary Element coalesced into place, and from it, a body manifested.

A human body. A body that exceeded humans.

A human hero. A hero who denied humans.

There was little to be said that had not already. After all, to him, there was no need for some grand narration, some understanding of his nature and what he sought. That could be understood on face by any who knew his name.

And so, as the flow of prana thrummed to a halt, as the light faded and a man crafted of Ether stood before the one who had dared to bind him-

"I ask you..."

...A feral grin split his face, eyes glinting with a manic light as he felt power fill his limbs, a sharp laugh tearing itself from his throat before he resumed.

"Are you my Vassal?"

---

"Haha, I can't say they're worth making a part of Rome in their current state, but these modern creations are a surprising pleasantry."

Since arrival at Fuyuki in the aftermath of his summoning, Lucius had been in an excellent mood, all things considered. Save for his inherent decision to refer to Prydwyn as 'Vassal', he had been surprisingly amicable as a whole. Granted, that was in the sense of a human to a pet more than anything else.

"Now, Vassal, I'll reiterate this: It would be inconvenient for me if you got yourself killed, so make sure that doesn't come to pass. It would also be inconvenient if you made a nuisance of yourself, so refrain from doing that either. In exchange, you'll be won the Holy Grail you so doggishly chase after."

...well, perhaps 'amicable' was the wrong word.

Regardless, the walk through the commerce district had progressed without incident. At least, that had been the case until he had turned his eyes towards the forest.

"That space there needs time to grow before it merits being taken, but the place that hasn't been taken by its sprawl might be worth examining."

A flight of fancy, a sparkle in the eye of a man who only knew how to take whatever laid before him.

"As I said, do not die, Vassal. It's time that I began moving in earnest."

Without so much as a moment for the magus to process those words, the Servant disappeared from view, darting off into the distance.

His instincts were calling out to him, an attraction that pulled him towards the forest, towards something that called out to his nature beyond what the senses could merely provide.

There was something there, something that merited his attention. He could not deny that magnetic pull that brought him towards the forest any more than he could deny his Origin itself.

And indeed, it wasn't long before he felt that presence in a more direct form, just as that presence felt him. The land beneath him shook as he forced his will into it, dominating it under his name. The piddling Bounded Fields formed here had no meaning to him. No, rather-

"I can feel your weight, Arturus! Come, Red Dragon, let us dance once again!"

A joyous scream leaving him, his words pierced through the air as a dagger to strike at the mind of his target.

How lovely, to feel this again.

Rider was in a foul mood. Throughout the war, he had hoped to find a challenge worthy of his legend. He was uninterested in facing off lesser foes, having sought out only those worthy to face the mettle of his blade. In the end, however, while he had found a warrior, no, a dragon worthy of facing him, he chose to instead focus on retreating, as if he treated their battle as some mere joke. His other rival, who had looked rather weary from their last fight, had also lost his weapon that night, and the idea of fighting him without that spear would give Rider a feeling of discomfort. Rider's anger only festered throughout the night as evident by the many trees brought down before him. Even his loyal steed, Falke, looked to Rider, worried of his prince's well-being.

"Falke, let's get going. If I couldn't find that bastard knight and his little lover in Shinto, it only narrows down our choic-"

... Rider froze in his tracks as soon as he felt that presence. He felt... greatness, as if he were to face off against another paragon of humanity; and yet, it wasn't something that pleased Rider. Not at all. As soon as he felt the land metaphorically singing praises and heralding the man that had come after him had Rider known that this opponent was somebody he does not want to face. There was nothing, however, that could stop Rider from fleeing. It was not in his nature to run, and there was something else about that man that called to Rider.

It was an opponent that he must face, as much as he shouldn't.

The name he was beckoned with. The command that was given to him. The blessed looking armor. The sickly red sword. The sword. These factors about his opponent had all confirmed Rider's suspicions as to who he was facing. If he wasn't the man that he was, he would find it right to run, to flee from such a man, one who had walked with the footfalls of an empire, but he could not find it within him to run. As a matter of fact, he was almost physically unable to, feeling the pressure of his opponent's, that Emperor's call to arms. This fight was going to happen, whether or not Rider chose for it to happen.

Such a command also had the effect of making Rider even angrier.

"... Let's make this worth our time." Rider had growled through gritted teeth as he looked to his opponent, drawing that traitorous knight's blade once again. He briefly considered drawing his shield, as well, but it was a thought that was quickly dismissed. Indeed, if he were to face off against that man who had fought and overpowered the King of Knights despite being otherwise ordinary, then he would require the full control of his blade and his body to defend, to avoid his attacks. Even without his instincts, Rider knew enough that he would not want to take his chances against the strikes from that sword.

And, with a burst of his own energy, Rider had charged towards that Saber. On his way way there, orbs of dragon's fire, intensified by Rider's growing rage, had been thrown to his opponent. It was a flurry of flames with the power to best most men, yet at the same time, Rider had only used them as a means of a distraction. If this Saber he was facing truly was the Sword Emperor, then even Rider's flames would serve as a mere nuisance to him, an inconvenience at the most.

Rider needed his opponent's senses to be occupied, after all, in order to perform his next attack. Rider's sword, which he held with both hands, began to crackle with golden lightning as he made his way closer to his opponent, and when he was close enough- which would still be considered many meters too far from the range of Rider's blade- he had shouted that dastardly blade's name.

With Rider's call, the energy crackling within the blade coalesced into a sustained beam of light, the energy surrounding it being converted into true ether in order to maintain its shape. The blade of light had extended Mimung's effective range into that comparable to a spear's, and Rider had chosen to take advantage of this blade's aspect while he can. As soon as Lucius Tiberius was in range of Mimung, Rider would cleave it through his opponent, aiming to bisect him; a slash with the intent to kill.

The true effect of Mimung is to cleave through armor as if it were cloth, the energized sword pouring out from his blade carrying the concept of 'cutting'. It was with this effect combined with the method Rider used it to nullify the magical defenses of his opponent that made his attack much more dangerous to his opponent. As soon as his slash was completed, whether it managed to strike Saber true or not, Rider had shifted his stance into a defensive one, placing his blade in front of him in a matter where he would be able to quickly intercede any attacks made by his opponent with it, provided that Saber had made the distance, something that Rider wouldn't allow. His goal in this fight is to maintain an aggressive defense, taking advantage of everything he can to defend against Saber's attacks while capitalizing on any openings he could find. Saber wasn't an opponent he was interesting in gauging, instead focusing on killing him as soon as possible while making sure that Rider, himself, was not hit.

Rider's instincts flared as they prepared to help him engage in a battle he could so easily lose...

@Paradox Witch @Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord

As he made his way and stepped through the treeline, he could tell something was wrong.

Achilles was not one who possessed instincts that stepped into the realm of precognition, nor someone who could hear the voices of the gods, but nonetheless he could get the general feeling that something very wrong would greet him when he made it to his destination.

He was right, but not in the way he expected. The skeletons plundering the place were not something he had thought to find, but they were summarily ignored.

The giant of a man, too, was ignored, his grumblings — the roar which shook the earth — gone unnoticed. No, what mattered was what was in his hand.

Ah, ah, what are you doing? That is not yours, not yours, return it this instant —!

Achilles could only watch, baffled, as his precious gift was consumed, taken away right before his eyes. He could say nothing, he could not even twitch a muscle, features frozen in an expression of shock.

A heartbeat passed.

There was no rage, no vengeful scream. Darius’ roar of his enemy’s name went unanswered. Achilles shivered.

Then he laughed.

Bringing a hand up to his face, the greatest hero of the Trojan war laughed in the face of the army that gathered before him. He laughed in the face of Darius III, but it was not a kind thing, nor did it carry any amusement.

It was cold. It was cruel, and it perfectly fit Achilles’s expression as his hand lowered, looking straight at his quarry as though the sea of bodies between them meant nothing.

“Oh, you should not have done that.”

A step forward. Not a charge with the divine speed that was the greatest among all heroes, but rather, a single step that nonetheless carried a terrible weight. Achilles’s mutter was nonetheless heard as loudly as though he had shouted the words.

“Madness accompanies the Berserker class, of course, but this is a first. I did not know some idiot would actually summon an outright suicidal fool as a Servant.”

Another step.

“Tell me, do you think this army will protect you, Persian? Do you think that I will be easy pickings just because my weapon is lost to me for now?”

He approached with calm strides, and delivered his words in a matching tone. The Noble Phantasms he had been shown had reduced his identity to but one possibility, and if someone had to define Achilles’s feelings about that fact now. . .

‘Impressed’ would not be one of them.

“So, a loser king of dredges thinks he can get to his enemy though me? You idiot. You could not hold your lands, you could not hold your people, you could not even hold your own family, and you think you will hold on to that spear for long?”

The last step.

“Ah, but I’m willing to give you a shot. If you’re so earnest in your obsession that you will go this far, then I will answer it. Come, king of failures, throw your soldiers at me, swing your weapons with all your might and prove, here and now, the brilliance of your legend.”

And then, he finally acted — a lightning fast punch was his opening move, tearing through one of the soldiers of Darius as he willingly clashed against the enemy lines, an engine of destruction to tear a path through his army like a hot knife through butter, coming for the King himself with no regard for anything else.

And indeed, why should he care?

“And then, I will show you that your blows mean nothing. I will crush and grind every one of your legends to dust, and make you understand that you would need a hundred times this much to have a hope of winning here. Before I take your life, I’m going to make sure you understand the difference between us — and between me and that man you so hate. So come.

Come, I’ll show you the radiance of my own legend.

Come, howl at the moon like the starved wolf you are, unable to ever reach it."

There was no point. To an enemy like this — a Berserker, one who had lost his sanity — the words themselves would not reach him. At least, it was not likely.

But the intent was clear. He should be able to understand that much. And so—



@Yukitamas

"It seems all the honorable servants are stuck with dishonorable masters, who chose to hide in their bases till the end of the war." Roland said, climbing up onto the massive creature his fellow servant had summoned. Climbing up the trunk, and being lifted higher, he took a seat next to the Rider, finding it rather comfortable. Shockingly, he had ridden an Elephant before. Long ago... When he was alive. Long ago. With Olivier.

--------------
"So, this is India?" The speaker smiled, looking off into the distance of such a magnificent land that stretched before him. He looked to his right, and there Olivier was, sighing out loudly.
"Roland, do I need to remind you that this isn't some holiday." Olivier seemed to drag Roland back down to earth, despite how he seemed so eager to be exploring. "Need I remind you exactly why we're here?"
"Of course not!" Roland declared, puffing up his chest, and looking away from Olivier. "Yes..." He hissed out, after the long silence of Olivier's judgemental stares.
"We're getting you an Oliphant Horn. Elephants are great for that kind of thing, or som-"
"We're going after a unicorn."
"A unico- Roland! Nobody can catch a Unicorn!" Olivier hissed, and nudged Roland right in the side. "I won't allow it. We'd spend years hunting, and nothing of value would come from it."
"Well, I shall prove that it can be done." Roland clutched Durandal, and he was off, horse galloping into the fields of India, passing by herds of the mighty elephant. And Olivier following in annoyance. But what else could be done with a man like Roland? Such a person would refuse to live life by the rules of others. Maybe that was why god seemed so interested in making sure Olivier was there to keep him in line.
--------------

But while Roland's mind drifted back to India, and his triumph there, he snapped back just in time to the hunt. The hunt itself was rather... Interesting. Workshop. Workshop. Workshop. A school with cannons on it. A bunch of insects eating corpses. Roland didn't get involved, but for a moment Trieu could hear a prayer on his lips. But he had a mission, and burying all those bodies would be a meaningless venture. After all, they had been claimed by the Matous.
"They did not deserve this." Roland said, his gaze drifting along the meaningless carnage. "But I cannot change that. Instead, I will make sure nothing else like it happens again." He said, and turned his eyes away from that tragic scene. The thudding hooves of the elephant filled the air, and they were gone. His master made aware of the tragedy at Fuyuki park.

________________________________
Western Farms

But then... They found him. The Western farm districts, which was surprisingly nice this time of year. A large, empty stretch of road left them all exposed, but such things couldn't be helped. At the very least, it was a very pleasant location, and Roland could easily understand such a desire to simply, walk around and around.

But neither Roland or Trieu were subtle servants, and the massive elephant they rode upon was the largest most obvious thing a servant could ride upon. Thud Thud Thud. The elephant thumped down the street, and there was Roland sitting on the head of the regal beast, with a smile flashing from ear to ear. Looking as non-offensive as possible.

"Well hello there, long time no see." Roland said, as the elephant began to walk alongside the green clothed servant. "You know, you're not an easy servant to find. Well, comparatively."

Trieu smirked and began to slide her sword from it's sheath, the red blade shining as the metal glinted against the sun. "Understand even for such a thief as yourself, we don't intend to fight you, but if you do not give this man his sword, there will be blood" She sat behind Roland staring at jack. This rogue..sent shivers down her spine. He reminded her very much of a cowardly traitor in the ranks of Vietnamese soldiers.

"Please be more... civil..." Roland sighed out, and were this an anime, he would have had a sweatdrop. "But yes, please return my blade."

@ReallyDumb

"Don't presume to order me, Vassal. If I choose to strike him down, I will."

When the dragon-fire came, he felt a tint of confusion.

Arturus was a dragon-turned-man, but he had never had that ability. Nonetheless, he treated it as though it was an attack from Arturus itself, even if it was a trifling one. While the power behind those flames was at least suitable to be of the dragon-class, the idea that something so halfhearted could truly strike someone with his speed and Instincts was a laughable one at best.

Weaving through the fire, the Saber was unhindered, his focus on his enemy all the sharper even as fire began to blossom in the forest behind him as he ran.

...ah, wait, that could be a problem, couldn't it?

As he ran, his will reached out, and dominated the flames. It wouldn't do if the flames spread to that other section of the forest before it was complete, and so the best recourse was simply to snuff them out. And then he saw him.

"Ah..."

Disappointing. That was the first thought to dawn on him.

The stature was imposing, the spiritual foundation dripped with the nature of a great hero, the sword gleamed with a great light. That resplendent armor, that strength of the dragon, there was no doubt that this man was a hero who could stand among humanity's greatness.

And yet, for all his excitement at facing the enemy before him, someone he could recognize just as easily as he himself was recognized, he felt a tinge of disappointment.

"You're not Arturus, but you'll do nonetheless!"

Just as his eyes finally landed on the Rider, though, that true name was invoked and light colored his sword. He felt the blade in his hands call out in hunger, a grin tearing his face in two. "Fine, fine. Wake up, Florent."

It would have begun the second Dietrich laid eyes on Lucius. A weight, an immaterial weight that nonetheless felt more palpable than anything else, pressed down on him from all sides. For a hero of his stature, that pressure was not crippling, but it was nonetheless significant. His movements were slowed, his strikes were weakened. This was what it meant to oppose the Sword Emperor.

...and at the same time, that almighty will of domination was imposed on the Rider's steed as well.

Lucius's mind whirred to life, taking in what he knew of the capabilities of the Servant before him as he closed the gap between them. Learn their abilities, imagine methods in which they can be used, and then devise countermeasures for each one. His mind could take the forefront, and his combat aptitude would be in charge of the execution.

To start with, that sword was a problem. His armor alone wouldn't be sufficient to cope with its effect; with Flora's protection amplifying it, though, it could possibly handle it. Besides that, if he released the true name then the other's attacks would be meaningless, but that was something against his ideals, so it wasn't even up for consideration. If that was the case, he was best off avoiding getting hit.

The armor was only relevant if he attacked in ways other than with Florent, which could certainly occur. So long as Florent was present, though, he could essentially ignore the defensive capacity of the Noble Phantasm. Well, unless the Rider did that, of course.

The steed was noteworthy, but he had ways of dealing with such things.

With that decided, at the same time as his will came down like a crushing wall on Dietrich, not giving him the chance to adjust to the sensation...

-Lucius burst out at full speed.

With unlikely great speed, Lucius’s figure had caught up to him right from under his nose. This was a speed that far and away exceeded Britain's Red Dragon, a man on par with Dietrich, even when supplemented by that Bounded Field of wind. To Dietrich, who had no such benefit, and was also vulnerable to the pressure of Lucius's will, there was an 'absolute disadvantage' in terms of speed.

Even if he had somehow managed to swing his blade before Lucius had closed the gap between them, that was no matter. A conceptual weapon of cutting only held sway if the object had a status of 'could be cut'. In the face of Florent's mystery and Lucius's own strength, deflecting such a blow was trivial at best. Of course, that didn't mean he was careless; after all, in his eyes, this opponent was a fitting stand-in for Arturus.

And then, laughing like a madman, the offensive began.

"How many blows can you endure?!"

To ordinary people, it could’ve been seen like the sword emperor’s weapon had disappeared. As he was just carving red streaks in the air. One, two, it swelled to an uncountable number in that short pause. Without warning, Dietrich was forced to weather a storm of blows from the other's unmatched strength.

But...

There was an opening. Someone with Dietrich's Instincts could notice it almost immediately, calling it to his attention as a way to survive. Lucius's legs, in spite of his torrential offense, were largely unguarded by his offensive which focused on his sword. If Falke moved to strike there, it would likely be too slow, but for Dietrich there was a chance he could take advantage of it to strike out. If timed properly, given what could be understood about his combat style, he could take the Sword Emperor's legs out from under him, giving him at least some reprieve from that demonic speed.

Of course, whether he would be able to do that was another matter altogether.

@Cu Chulainn @addamas

“Boss, I knew you'd show up,” Ashimoto, the gruff spoken man who was sitting at the main help desk, limping as he shifted his position from his previously sitting self to a salute of sorts to honor his boss. Of course to someone like Ashimoto, whom of which already believed Gin to be the “coolest possible boss”, the effect of his transformation was lost on him.

“Hey did you cut your hair or something,” the giant oaf of a man said as he scratched the back of his head in a rather quizzical fashion. Though he could not directly place his finger on it, it was clear that something was different. But still, from his perspective, it would be impossible for him to figure out what it was exactly.

As suddenly as she felt the presence enter the area of the hot springs, Benita was confused. It was no presence the recognized from the Yakuza. Was it a Servant? Or perhaps some sort of aggressor who wished to challenge Benita in a fight? For a moment, she considered recalling her Servant. Even in his position, Benita was sure that Achilles could instantaneously arrive at her position, as he had so many times before.

But this presence, regardless of its alien-like nature, also felt a degree of familiarity. As if she had met this person before. Therefore, it was no shock to Benita that Gin was standing in the main lobby.

“I see you’re here to see the grand unveiling of the hot springs, no?” Benita told Gin, a bit of a muse in her voice as she stated this to him.

“I guess you look a bit different. You look cooler now ... Like an older sister or something.”

Older sister?

Well, to someone like Benita who had only known her SIsters and Mother as a family, it only made sense that she could not understand nor have the word “brother” in her vocabulary. To Benita, her eyes shining like the sun itself while looking at Gin was trying to pay him a compliment, regardless of the terminology she used. To her, the "coolest" someone could be would be an "older sister", considering out of the twenty sisters she had, twenty-one including herself, she only had a single older sister.

But was being called an “older sister” uncool?

Or was shooting down a child fan uncool?”

Such a troubling statement brought forward by a troubling child.

Leaving was difficult. Going from the safety of those walls to an outside where death lurked was terrifying. In Troilus’ short life, he had never really known fear, the kind of creeping terror that death could appear at any time. The absolute terror of warfare had been something he hadn’t understood up to this point, sheltered as he had been by the absolute defence of Troy’s walls.

To think that that terror had been experienced by his family as they went to fight the invaders each day was saddening. How much fear had they been hiding as they talked and played with him? Why hadn’t he seen it at the time?

That terror was suffocating now.

And yet, he felt safe. There was something about Gin - his words, his demeanor, his very aura - that made it seem that he could accomplish anything. And if Gin could accomplish anything, Troilus could too.

It was an inspiring feeling, one that reminded him of how his brothers had been.

Even though Hector was the best big brother, the strongest fighter, the greatest hero of Troy. Even though he was a shining man who stood out as an exceptional person, whether on the battlefield or rallying the citizens of Troy-

Well, he wasn’t all that ‘cool’. A hero who rarely acted like a hero, one who never cared about how much his weapons shone or how poorly he was perceived by others. Well, even if it was out of necessity…

Nobody could hope to take Hector’s place as the ‘best’ - but if it came down to who was ‘coolest’, then perhaps Gin could be that person.

Certainly, Troilus wasn’t worried that Gin could calm the riots going on. He didn’t exactly understand, but Gin had told him he didn’t need to get involved, and that was enough for him. These were Gin’s people, and it was his responsibility to defend them. Even though Troilus wanted to help, he probably didn’t need to. Of course, fighting to defend your own city was the most heroic thing there was. Yes, this was something Gin had to do, to become a hero.

Well, Troilus needed that too, but shouldn’t he go through training before that?

Without paying much attention, Troilus wandered into the room, running slightly to catch up with Gin. He looked around with the absent minded curiosity of a child, his attention plucking on various aspects of the room, and the people within it. There was no hostility or wariness in his eyes towards any of Gin’s friends - after all, if they were friends with Gin, they couldn’t be bad people, could they?

He stayed close to Gin, hovering close behind him. Since he was here to observe, he held back his questions. After all, it seemed like there was a serious discussion going on, so his curiosity about this strange building could wait. Instead, he simply smiled and waved at the only person in the room who seemed to be a similar age to him, offering no explanation for his presence, clearly that of a Servant.

@Cu Chulainn@Phonic@addamas

The tense standoff between the thief and paladin continued, the ball was in Jack's court as to whether or not he would return Durandal, whether he would try to run or stand his ground against two Servants at once, regardless of decision he would need to make it quickly if he was going to survive this tense encounter.

But the small bird that landed on the rubble of the destroyed mansion cared not for these all too human conflicts. It had a purpose today and that purpose had nothing to do with the humans that shouted and beat their chests in an attempt to show off their superiority. Indeed, its purpose today was to sift through this rubble and search for something, what it searched for it did not know. But it searched, picking through the rubble in an attempt to find what its Master wanted.

Another bird circled the ruins above, looking down on the environment and trying to pick out anything unusual from above. Teamwork at its finest, but somewhat unusual behavior for a bird. Ah well, its not like anyone had the time to muse on strange birds and their strange behaviors, not when it looked like a fight was brewing. What an unusual day.

Curiosity got the Rat.

It was dirt, nothing but a pile of dirt.

Turns out there's nothing here but rubble and debris from the residue of an explosion I presume? Ratface dissolves into multiple pieces of rats and investigates the crime scene, spreading out to look for clues and what causes all of this.

The place is infected with plague rats from each corner of the ruined home, rabidly searching for any bit of information they could find.

They dig and dig until they've found something. A tunnel underneath the rubble. A collapse hole. was it man made? hard to tell by the strange markings.

"Are ya seeing this boss?" Ratface scans his findings with his beady eyes, projecting the disturbing image to the Rat king. Claw marks within the entrance of the tunnel

"Hmm.. keep searching, I don't want anything or anyone causing trouble within the city without my permission, Everything that goes within my reach should know they are being monitored and because I let them do what they do.." Caster sighed.

"find the source of all of this.." Piper ordered ratface, being obsessive of being in control as he is.

"Metal?" Ratface picks up bits of metal as he goes along.

Obeying his creator's order, The cursed monstrosity went straight for the tunnel without any hesitation, scurrying underneath the land...

Only leading to the temple area by the end of it. so what now? I guess its time to scout for clues before this trail comes to a dead end.

@Red Alice@floodtalon