I...don't understand.

I can't understand.

I was so certain, I was all but decided, but...the look in those eyes. How was that alone able to dissuade me?

My mind is a jumbled mess. I can scarcely understand where I end and something else begins. You, I really wonder what you're thinking about all of this. Are you still laughing? Are you even still watching me?

I had every chance. I could have done it, then and there, but I didn't.

Why?

Those words, I was prepared to scream them out.

Pound. Pound. Pound. The drumbeat resumes. I drive my hands over my ears in an attempt to block it out, despite knowing that it is futile.

They're still screaming.

They're still crying.

They're still dying helplessly without meaning without wishes without will and I am here failing to act failing to accomplish anything why why why can't I force myself to move why won't I take that step why am I afraid when I've gotten this far I need to do this I have to close those thoughts off forget those eyes and forget those words because if I let them drag me down then more will suffer and die and they don't deserve that nobody deserves that so therefore therefore therefore-

I stare down at what my fingers have clenched around in a white-knuckle grip, my hand quivering from a feeling I don't have a word for.

It is something designed to hold wishes, and yet it is disgusting. It is something that calls itself holy, and yet that I can only find profane.

This damnable ■■■■■.

It's repulsive. Everything about it is repulsive. My very existence screams out in rejection of it. Simply touching it makes me want to vomit.

But...I can't destroy it. I can't. If I do that, then...

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

In, out.

In, out.

In, out.

That feeling of hate, still unfamiliar to me, bubbles up at my throat. I choke it down.

I...can't do it. Not yet.

I'm weak. I'm weak, if that was able to sway my heart this easily.

I'm not strong enough to dedicate myself to this. I'm not strong enough to have the willpower to kill myself to accomplish this.

So, please.

Whoever is listening, whether it's you or someone else...

Let me be strong, so that I can step forwards.

Let me stand tall, so that I do not break.

Let me turn my mind to steel, so that I can save the world.

Servant Berserker, Gilles De Rais

---

The summoning did not bring with it much pomp, simply a brilliant light, shining in oddly headache inducing hues as the cloaked figure rose up from the circle. A tall slightly scrawny man, with pale skin and black hair stood before the summoner, though his figure was concealed by the purple cloak he wore. There was an air of pride around him, in the way he stood, and how his right hand restly lightly upon his sword. While perhaps not the most gallant of figures, or an image of what one would envision a knight, it was clear he was an experienced veteran of many battles.

"I am Gilles De Rais, Marshal of France. Are you to be my Master? Then France's mighty army shall follow you in my command."

"Are you sane Berserker? Do you have the presence of mind to comprehend my words? If you do, know that we have no time to dally. There is much work to be done in this city if we are to prevent any further loss of life."

Gilles' brow furrowed slightly at that. "Berserker, you say? Perhaps there was some sort of mistake. I'd thought I was summoned as a Saber, but that matters not." He dismissed it easily, as if it did not bother him the slightest. "For I have been summoned to serve you, and serve you I shall. I assure you, Master, that I am perfectly sane and coherent."

Noting what she said next, Gilles nodded, standing up slightly straighter. "But if it is as you say, then let us make haste. There would be hell to pay should innocent blood be spilled whilst my banner fly high."

For a moment, the image of a blonde woman, almost shining in her brilliance, appeared in his mind, holding aloft a flag. That's right, the Saint would never forgive me if I let innocents be harmed knowingly.

This was the place. Xerxes adjusted his shirt, and glanced to his sides. One one side, Tesla. The other, Ludwig. The poor boy had been resistant so soon after their brief chat before the meeting. But Xerxes had insisted. It was important that he be there, and not just using a familiar. After all, it was important that they attend publicly as the men of good faith that they were.

The suit he had chosen was not too formal. Since he didn't want to be seen as a snob. Instead, it was closer to something a man of common wealth would wear in persia. Except there was the scarf around his neck, and his arms were bandages up. A slight surgery of course, but as he approached the penguin at the door, Xerxes was undoing the bandages. Three command seals, still there on his hand. "The other two are my servant, and my assistant. He is studying under me." With that out of the way, he was through the door, already passing by an unmoving man who wore a horse mask.

"Is he... Alright?" Xerxes said, gesturing to the horsemask man while looking to the nearest member of the Yakuza. "I mean, he seems alright, but there is blood." Letting out a sigh, he looked to the people around him. "Ah yes, I apologize, I am Doctor Kaveh. If this man is indeed in need of medical help, I can provide it. I recently came back from the native district, where I was attending to some of the injured."

Wind? No... it isn't windy today...

Of course not. It was something else, his hand was on the doorknob and in less than ten seconds, the snapping, breaking and slightly audible bending of metal could be heard as well as the after-groans of his suits' screams. He quickly pulled out the third pistol from somewhere, the dud, a piece of intimidation should this meeting go wrong.

He looked around, every single gun broken in half just by the sheer strength of a...

...monkey in a pompadour?

Standing there in disbelief, Enzo was denying the fact that Gin- no... I don't think that name is appropriate- FUJIMURA was able to move as fast as a Servant and break hard-cased iron/steel material with nothing but his hands. Although nothing about him looks like a Servant, he doubts that Servants even wear those kinds of clothes or have that kind of hairstyle...

...then again he's seen the other Servants through Piper's eyes...

Enzo studied him, top to bottom and could only attempt to stare through those shades of his. With a disappointed shake of the head and the "tch" that followed, he lowered the dud and holstered back into his waistbelt. "No. I don't plan on raiding the springs, I was, however, planning on defending myself if the meeting is in chaos but... it seems you broke my men's only weapon of self-defense. His glare intensified, he didn't know what this freak of nature is but he wasn't going to let some monkey take out a rather expensive investment back home. His father would be furious. "I really do hope you find a way to pay all of those revolvers, unless you don't mind to have lead inside every crevice of your body. Whatever-you-are."

Well there goes the name, talk about a waste.

As he left, giving him a pat on the back he made sure to send a mental note to Piper just to keep an eye on him. He gestured his men to huddle up and gave one of the only pistols over to the nearest man as they awaited entry.

A high-pitched voice came from below them and he noticed the penguin. Odd. Why would a penguin be all the way out here? Then it talked.

A familiar. Weird choice.

Now that he looked at it closer it seemed to be nervous. Was "it" intimidated by them? Hardly... must be that Gin fellow...

"Are you here to greet us on our way in? No need to worry, one of your guests took out most of our weapons meant for self-defense."

@Sageage @Breo @ManyThings @Reflection @Phonic

---

Cassandra just recently forced a family back inside their house right after shooting a father in the shoulder. Filled with fear, they locked the door in front of them, a loud slam following it. "There we go. Alright, everyone let's quell the other side and-" The lieutenant was interrupted by a limping man filled with bruises, bruises that aren't anywhere near an average man's hardest punch. It's as if a building toppled down on him and he somehow survived or maybe a speeding car rammed him over twice.

"MADAM GENEVA! WE HAVE PROBLEMS!" Screaming both in fear and in pain with his rifle cracked and pistol bent beyond repair, Geneva ordered whatever group she was with to help him up for a little bit. "What happened?"

"I-It's the Yakuza! I don't know what kind of drugs they were on but they hit like a truck! And they have these weird paper-things! They hit hard like someone's throwing a boulder at you! It ripped my fucking gun in half and-" Held in a sleeper hold by Geneva he calmed down, eyelids slowly closing up as he was hushed by the angel of gunsmoke. She gestured whatever men near her to take him back to the safehouse.

"Alright boys. Remember when Enzo's friend gave us a power-up as well? I think it's time we put that to good use, we're fighting fire with fire."

Of course, she had to change. This dress isn't battle-ready.

@floodtalon @Cu Chulainn

This looked like the place!

The walk over had taken a while, but she already knew the way from that time she'd had to come to this part of the city to make Miss Shaytanea, so it wasn't that bad really. Also, this time there wasn't fire everywhere, so that was a plus.

"Hi everyone! Are you all the magic people? I was supposed to find the magic peo-WAIT ANOTHER PENGUIN!"

Regardless, those present at the hot spring would eventually see the arrival of a ten year old girl.

In terms of presence, she was undoubtedly the weakest individual present. There was the trace of magical emanation from her, enough to gauge her as at least a magus or something along those lines, but she assuredly lacked Command Seals, the aid of a Servant, or the muscle strength of one who had gone through puberty.

Ignorant to any tension that might have been present prior to her arrival, the young girl practically sprinted up to the penguin doorman, a sunny smile on her face.

"Hiya, Mr. Penguin! I'm Mary, it's nice to meet you! I met another one of you, but Miss Carly-Beth wouldn't let me hug him because she said that would be dangerous."

Arms crossing behind her back, the girl paused for a moment, shifting her weight from side to side as she mulled over how to explain her presence.

"Um, I'm here for Miss Carly-Beth. She would have come here, but she's really really really busy right now! If I bug her when she's like that, I don't get any candy for the rest of the day! Oh, oh! She gave me some candy before I left, though. I still have a little, do you want some, Mr. Penguin?"

Evidently having gotten an idea, her eyes glinted as she uncrossed her arms, outstretching a hand towards the penguin with the palm facing up.

A small pile of dried oregano was offered to the bird.

The masked assistant looked up at the hotsprings as they walked up the stairs. He'd had Archer hang around the boundaries to look out for any enemies that might try to take advantage of the situation. So many masters and servants in one place, it would be a perfect opportunity for someone to take out a large chunk of the competition. Underneath his rubber gloves he had put on the Talisman wrappings he had had shipped over to conceal his rank of master.

Clad in his finest dark suit and yellow tie, large boots on as well. Looking around, he looked down at the horse mask clad man and narrowed his eyes. That did not look too good. "Felix Faust, my master has taken me over to study" he bowed hesitantly and walked forward, allowing Xerxes to observe the Horseman as he looked around the others arriving.

This was an odd moment in the war, peace. He knew why, they all had a common enemy. The Association. Unless they had sent a representative, everyone here was their target and he knew that. A smirk on his face however, was concealed by the fact he had just received information from Gustav that he was still alive and could recount his encounter. Good, the wheels were in motion. Now to survive this whole ordeal with the fancy mages and the rough druids.

He looked down at the girl with wide eyes before looking around at the others. "Ve have arrived at the correct place yes? he glanced to see the hat wearing mafia man and smirked under his mask. "My teacher hopes we can come to some sort of an agreement here, I'm only here to observe."

Tesla walked beside Xerxes with confidence in every step, his arms hanging loosely by his sides enveloped by his amplifiers. He looked at the man with the horse head before Xerxes and activated his Human Anatomy Understanding, his brows furrowing as he studied the man closely. While this man obviously wasn't a horse, every single skill related to human medicine seemed to disagree. Tesla shook his head and looked at Xerxes, forming his own conclusion without skills. "The... man, is clearly just exhausted. You can tell by his breathing pattern and heartbeat, he should be awake in time for this meeting. Besides, none of this blood could be his. Its all dry, if he needed medical attention he would be bleeding all over the floor."

Tesla noted the others present already, including the girl offering a pile of dried oregano to the penguin he had speedwalked past when they entered. There was also a very disgruntled man in a suit surrounded by other disgruntled men trying to talk to the penguin. That damnable penguin. They were everywhere, all over the city. Those devil birds in suits, they were dangerous. And that meant a lot coming from the man who could fire all of electricity that ever had and will exist all at once. Tesla sat down in a nearby chair and sighed, impatiently tapping his fingers on the armrest as he waited for the meeting to start.

---

Elizabeth blinked twice, relaxing as her Servant walked past her. "Berserker, you say? Perhaps there was some sort of mistake. I'd thought I was summoned as a Saber, but that matters not." While she would love to believe something had gone wrong and he had been summoned as Saber, this was clearly a falsehood. She was looking at his stats now, he was clearly a Berserker. "For I have been summoned to serve you, and serve you I shall. I assure you, Master, that I am perfectly sane and coherent." Well he wasn't lying at the very least. Or he didn't think he was lying. Perhaps there was some sort of trigger for his Madness Enhancement?

Well it's like he said, it didn't matter. There was work to be done, every minute mattered if she was to find the targets on her kill list. "Yes, perhaps I misread the summoning incantation." She muttered at Berserker vaguely, quickly catching up to him as she ran up towards him. "The people running this ritual have not been doing their job unfortunately, at least a hundred thousand people have been killed in the past three days." Elizabeth's frown deepened as she continued. "And that's a conservative estimate." As they continued her walk she noted the ruins of several buildings, unbeknownst to her these were the remnants of the houses that Achilles had ran straight through in terror. "Obviously things will only get worse the longer this ritual continues, so the Nobles at the Clock Tower have deemed it best that the ritual be ended as soon as possible. This is where we come in." She left it at that, not mentioning how the ritual would be ended. Honestly, she had no idea how it was going to be ended exactly.

Her current objectives were to gather information and to kill the Einsbern and Tohsaka, along with determining exactly what was going on in this city. She knew the bare basics from a civilian she hypnotized, there had been a massive fire and storm consecutively twp days before, along with what had been described as a star falling from the sky. A riot started yesterday in the Native District, which was still going today. As they walked by a penguin waddling along she wondered what Servants could possibly- what. She stopped and turned around, looking at the penguin who was staring at the Command Seals on her right hand. After a small conversation, Elizabeth knew where their destination was.

"Well then. Saber, we are going to be heading to the hotsprings that was built in the ruins of the Foreigner's District. You should probably pick me up so we can get there quicker, I'll give directions." She called him Saber, despite the fact he was obviously a Berserker. Insisting otherwise might bring his wrath down on her, so it is probably best to play along with his delusions. Once Berserker picked her up they would be off, he would also be happy to note that she was just as light as she appeared to be. Eternal youth was a wonderful thing.

Servant Berserker, Gilles De Rais

---

"The people running this ritual have not been doing their job unfortunately, at least a hundred thousand people have been killed in the past three days. And that's a conservative estimate. Obviously things will only get worse the longer this ritual continues, so the Nobles at the Clock Tower have deemed it best that the ritual be ended as soon as possible. This is where we come in."

He nodded. A secret ritual that had somehow sprawled out of control, involving thousands of innocent lives, as well as disrupting the peace of the land. Such craven behaviour, such villainy. Gilles could see why he was summoned; such mistaken behaviour should be stopped immediately, to save any more lives from being put into the flames of battle. So his cause was a righteous one, and his was to be the sword of justice upon these scoundrels.

"Then so be it. We shall end these wrongdoings as soon as possible. No more lives must be lost."

Noticing something, his hand went to his sword immediately, before he noticed the odd bird waddling towards them. Noting it was just there to deliver some sort of invitation, his posture relaxed.

"Well then. Saber, we are going to be heading to the hotsprings that was built in the ruins of the Foreigner's District. You should probably pick me up so we can get there quicker, I'll give directions."

Nodding, he picked her up as if she was naught but a feather, and gave a mighty leap towards their destination, his purple cloak billowing madly around him.

"What did the small bird tell you, Master? Is the enemy to be this way?"

@floodtalon

---

For the first time, Lancer was able to observe the building up close. It was an impressive piece of construction, especially when one considered the short time involved. As she understood it, the group of familiars her Master had sent to this place a few hours earlier had already dispersed, and they were to arrive in person to meet properly with the other parties in the war.

"Reiki Matou, returning. In person, this time, and with my Servant."

Scáthach held open the door as Reiki made her way inside. Her Master had chosen to wear a vibrant blue evening dress. Lancer followed immediately after, with a case of beer under one arm. She had been coerced into also wearing a fine dress for the evening. Reiki had described it as "fit for a queen", but she had no doubt been referring to a sort of queen with duties quite different from those of Lancer.

She offered no particular acknowledgement to anyone in the room, save for the blood-soaked man with the head of a horse. Her eyes lingered there. She had been made aware of his efforts. Admirable.

And yet, he was missing. That man was not something that could fully be appreciated through a karmic link, and so she would watch him carefully when he appeared.

Reiki, meanwhile was clearly focused on a number of individuals at once. Perfectly sensible, as she had no doubt observed each person here in much more detail than Lancer could hope to.

"This is a rather unsatisfying turnout so far, but I imagine most of the pairs will arrive in time. Meanwhile, are we going to hold our discussions crammed around some table, or are we going to enjoy the actual hot spring?"

---

FUJIMURA was surprised...

What had come to him wasn't an Oni as he had expected, but something else happened to come on by with his command. Indeed, that thing was easily subdued by FUJIMURA, far easier than he'd have hoped, its whole body bound by the shikigami he created, and its mouth stuffed with a reinforced brick. Lugging it on his back, FUJIMURA seemed like he was in a rush as soon as it was subdued, shouting at his boys to follow him. Whatever he was chasing, and whatever this thing was, it must have been something of vital importance and urgency for the Yakuza boss.

As he dashed southward with blinding speed no normal human of this age could feasibly reach, he began to prepare four talismans, all already imbued with his affinity for 'Soil.' What he needed specifically for what is to come was 'Water', but because he did not have that affinity, he needed to improvise. FUJIMURA began to chant as each of the talismans in his hand began to glow with a blue light, invoking the power of a water kami.

"O Suijin..."

Why he needed 'Water' was but a simple reason; the opponent he is about to face had something of a weakness to it. What FUJIMURA carried on his back was a subdued ghoul, and while it was indeed a monster that was causing trouble to the Yakuza, it wasn't the only one doing so. Of course, how would something so simple, so feral as the beast on its back be able to cause such a stir in the Native District? No, it was merely just another puppet, and FUJIMURA was able to trace its strings. FUJIMURA was able to pinpoint this Dead Apostle's exact location.

As soon as he reached it, whether it was at its lair or on the move, FUJIMURA would throw his talismans, ensuring to contain it in a square and creating a river to subdue its movements. Of course, it wasn't a true river in a physical sense, but something of a conceptual one, changing the foundation of the lines connecting to each four corners of the square into that of flowing water. It was a simple spell thought up by FUJIMURA as a means of keeping it contained. Like the superstition states, bloodsuckers are incapable of crossing bodies of flowing water, and Dead Apostles are no exception to this rule. FUJIMURA would have his opponent trapped, preferably in the planes where all the mana seemed to have been sucked dry. Why a spellcaster would do such a thing seemed silly, but as FUJIMURA was one with an enormous amount of od, it was a position purely advantageous to himself.

FUJIMURA would subdue this Dead Apostle before it could cause any more trouble. Before anyone, and especially the Holy Church, found out.

---

He had been on his way to the Outskirts when he felt his Ghoul coming towards him, which was very wrong considering he had been trying to keep his Ghoul as far away from him as possible. He hadn't even made it on purpose, it just kind of happened after he was done feeding on one of those annoying sacks of blood. The thing had gone berserk, but he had dominated it with ease and bent it to his will. Now he had the Ghoul out looking for workshops, but it wasn't very good at that. What a worthless Ghoul. Now it was rapidly approaching him, interrupting his journey to the Outskirts of Fuyuki. He had tried to look through its eyes to see what it was doing, only to find nothing, as if something was blocking the connection.

How annoying. All the time he had put into keeping himself hidden, only to be thwarted by his own stupid Ghoul. Stupid, stupid Ghoul. Even now those things he hated tracked him down via the karmic lines, something he was all too familiar with. It can't be helped he supposed, let them come. Perhaps if he was lucky he could snag a snack before he continued on his way. At the very least he could get rid of this stupid Ghoul right now, he just needed a little bit of time to assess the situation. He checked himself over once, twice, they were almost here.

Thus he had decided to stand his ground here, in the Foreigner's Lowlands. There they are, the ones who captured his ghoul. He could see it bound on the man's back, that man that he hated so. "What in the world are those monstrosities on his face though?" He muttered to himself as he bounced on his feet a few times. The yakuza threw something at him, but it was as if it was in slow motion. The talismans struck the ground around nothing, the Cursed Apostle had changed positions faster than FUJIMURA had expected. It was a simple task for him to speed away from whatever trap he was trying to make before it could activate, if his calculations were correct his Agility was Servant level at the moment.

If this had been before, he might have decided to begin taunting the yakuza, striking up a friendly conversation as he plotted out how to kill the man known as FUJIMURA. Now though, he didn't really care. Not when he had noticed that FUJIMURA was carrying his Ghoul, setting himself up for failure. "You've already lost you know." He said neutrally as he stared at the bound Ghoul. FUJIMURA would note that the Cursed Apostle's face was obscured by the hood of his jacket, every inch of his skin was covered by some sort of clothing really. However if he was really paying attention, FUJIMURA might notice a hint of red through the white gloves that he wore. But that attention would be his downfall. "Now please die."

And then the Ghoul burst into flames.

Of course this included FUJIMURA as well considering he was carrying the Ghoul, giving this Cursed Apostle the perfect opportunity to run. The moment FUJIMURA took his eyes off of him, two things happened. A bright flash filled the area, blinding his men who were keeping watch while FUJIMURA got rid of the flaming Ghoul on his back. A few seconds later, he had disappeared. No trace of his magical energy, no trace of his physical presence, the Cursed Apostle had just vanished in a bright flash of light.

---

"... Huh, that was easier than I thought."

FUJIMURA crossed his arms and laughed, adjusting his glasses. Having finally caught the Dead Apostle, he started to think about what to do with it. His men circled the Dead Apostle, as well, confident that it wouldn't be able to do much in its containment. They weren't far from the truth, either, as the mana from these lands were all drained out. It was something FUJIMURA knew he had to get to the bottom of, but he could save worrying about that for the meeting. For now, though, FUJIMURA dropped the subdued ghoul on the ground, not worrying too much about it. Not like it was on fire or anything; there isn't any mana around to really accomplish that, after all. No, he needed it alive in case its master, this Dead Apostle, managed to escape.

"... Oh, wait! I got it! Alright, boys, like we talked about earlier, if he turned out to be faster than me! Let's go!"

FUJIMURA's men all nodded, before stomping a foot on the ground three times, each stomp occurring at the increment of one second. The stomps didn't seem arbitrary, as with each stomp, the men moved more and more in unison. It seems like they were all trying to synchronize their movements in order to move "as one," while at the same time, motivating each other with some sort of cheer. Once they have reached the closest they could to being synchronized, FUJIMURA stomped a foot to the ground with a fair amount of his might, leaving a notable indenture into the ground.

"Let's go! Three... two... one..."



Invoking the power of another 'Grand Mob Ritual', FUJIMURA and his men impose their will, once again, this time reaching out to the actual Monster who had onced plague them. Not even a second after, FUJIMURA leaped to the Dead Apostle, a hand pulled back as if to strike him. And indeed, this strike would be true, as a conceptual attack on the level of a grand ritual would be hard to resist for a monster like this. Not without preparation, at least. This Dead Apostle would do nothing but watch as FUJIMURA's palm struck right into its chest...

"You're mine, bloodsucka!"

... The attack, however, was rather weak. Well, in normal human standards, it would be enough to knock the wind out of a breathing person, but for FUJIMURA, whose strength has reached nearest to the height of what a human could accomplish, it was merely just a soft tap to his chest, in comparison. This attack, however, was the least of this Dead Apostle's concern as FUJIMURA jumped back as soon as his palm made impact. Chuckling for a moment before taking off his sunglasses, FUJIMURA looked directly into his opponent's eyes, grinning as if he was in on some joke.

"Now, then... how about you tell me your name, how you became that thing, and why you have it out for me and my boys. That's an order!"

What seemed like an arbitrary command felt like something this Dead Apostle could not ignore. It was an order that he had to follow, as if his whole existence was controlled by FUJIMURA's words. This was not due to another conceptual attack, per say, nor was it the likes of a smaller-scaled 'Grand Mob Ritual'. It was just something that this Dead Apostle was absolutely compelled to do. Of course, this is because FUJIMURA has made this Dead Apostle his own shikigami.

Shikigami are a symbol of power to Onmyouji. As their own version of the Western 'familiar', shikigami are made by the user placing a portion of their life force into a dead or non-living object. While they prove to be, to some degree, more efficient than familiars, they also take a toll on the user as they drain their life-force, so long as they exist. Of course, to FUJIMURA, whose own existence was monstrous compared to a normal human's, he is capable of creating as many as fifty without taking too much of a toll on his own life, and even then, his skill at the art is enough to 'cut the tie', allowing him to safely create and maintain a vast number of shikigami at once without them draining from his own power. Because FUJIMURA is capable of turning anything non-living, including the dead, all he needed to do was to transfer the minimum amount of life force needed in order to turn this Dead Apostle, this walking corpse, into his own Servant. And because FUJIMURA's existence completely towers over this newly made Dead Apostle's, he only needed to place a paltry amount of his life force within this being to successfully bend it to his will. All FUJIMURA needed to do was transfer a small amount of his life force into the Dead Apostle and...

... In other words, FUJIMURA has effectively turned his opponent into his slave.

He bristled as the man with the dumb glasses laughed, pacing back and forth as he tested the limits of his boundary. Conceptual river huh? Smart, very smart. He vaguely noted how dry these lands were, likely the doing of a Servant. FUJIMURA had dropped the Ghoul on the ground, he thought about ordering it to break its bonds and attack for a moment before shaking his head. Pointless, if it could break out it would have done so by now. He also thought about destroying the Ghoul right now, but there was no point. Now was the time to wait and see.

"... Oh, wait! I got it! Alright, boys, like we talked about earlier, if he turned out to be faster than me! Let's go!"

Oh great, they have their own little song and dance. He watched the ritual with disinterest, rolling his eyes under the hood as stomped on the ground like a group of apes attempting to scare off another group of apes. "Are we really doing this? While this is very funny, I do have better things to do with my night. I don't exactly have a lot of time in the day to do things."

"Let's go! Three... two... one..."

Alright, we're doing this. The Cursed Apostle crossed his arms and stared at FUJIMURA, waiting for the big magic attack to annihilate him in one blast, inevitably wasting all their magic energy so he could just dodge it and then get to work on the talismans around him. What he did not expect was for them to all yell in sync.



He felt his entire body seize, forced to watch FUJIMURA as he leapt towards the Cursed Apostle with hand outstretched. Oh good, the idiot had decided to come into the tiger cage. He stared at FUJIMURA wth arms crossed, waiting for the last possible second to kill the fool yakuza. His eyes glowed within the bounds of his hood, lighting his face up for but a brief moment to reveal a very distinctive feature. A very unique set of glasses.

Hate. The energy that pierced FUJIMURA's chest could only be described as hate made tangible, hate for everything that FUJIMURA was. It was a curse that was not a curse, the power of Mystic Eyes refracted endlessly until it became a tangible force of hate. The force behind the blast was enough to throw FUJIMURA onto the ground, leaving him to writhe in pain as the Cursed Apostle smiled victoriously. It would drain FUJIMURA of his life, his Od, his very being. There was no escape, he merely stared at FUJIMURA until he died.

"You can blame your friend for this. Were it not for him, I would have never become this. I just wanted to talk. He never told you that though did he, he probably never even mentioned that to you. I was just another that he decided to punish." The Cursed Apostle strained his muscles, attempting to regain control of his body in case FUJIMURA somehow powered through this beam of hate.

But FUJIMURA would likely be on death's door by now, the power of Mystic Eyes of Draining enhanced by Mystic Eye Refractors was no joke. Especially at such close range, he would likely struggle to even think coherent thoughts as his body was killed by hate incarnate.

With what little movement he could muster the Cursed Apostle shook his hood off and revealed his face to FUJIMURA and his men, making sure the last thing he ever saw was the face of the man who killed him. "When you go to whatever barbaric afterlife you backwoods Magus believe in, let your god know that ■■■■■■■■■■■■ sent you there." Whenever their leader died, the Cursed Apostle would stare at the next yakuza member, his smile filled with bloodlust. "Now then. Who's next?"

There was a moment for Xerxes to check the rate of breathing for the exhausted master, and finally he took a step back. "Thank you, Archer." He said after that long pause. For a moment he was tempted to kill the man, but that would just be improper, and tasteless. Besides, it wasn't like he'd actually have a reason for it. He had seen the man in the native district. Much like himself, they had both been there to save lives. But this man was probably more selfless about it. After all, Xerxes went in later, with some... Ulterior motives.

With that done, the persian master turned to the Mafia, or at least their leader. He wasn't much to look at, but as Xerxes could testify, looks were not everything. It was ambition. And despite their conflicting interests, Xerxes admired ambition. "Honestly, I think it's better you didn't carry a weapon to the meeting. Too many jumpy individuals with weapons just seems to invite somebody else to bring out a bigger stick. I'm sure you all saw what happened to the last big stick though." He had a little laugh about that, since it was clear all of them had clearly seen the massive tree in Fuyuki. No doubt it was a major part of why they had all come here. The fire's effect still lingered, despite how they all tried to pretend it had never happened and continued trying to kill each other. Humans never learned, did they? Or maybe they were trying to learn, hence the meeting.

He didn't speak to the strange individual called Mary. Not because she didn't register. But because he wanted to save that kind of conversation for later.

Then came the Matou. In the flesh it seemed for once. No karmic links to those insects. Thankfully for Xerxes, since by this point he had grown sick of the insects that seemed to be hiding in every portion of this city. He was sure the hordes of insects in the forest had been planning to bombard him for days the very moment he left the church. But at the very least, there was a meeting to ease some tension.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet the Matou representative for this meeting." He said, with a smile. "Xerxes Kaveh, care to share your name to me?" He didn't reach out to shake hands. Instead he gave a little wave from his position closest to the Archer servant by his side.

Then... There was the servant.

____________________________________________________________________________________



Boot... MEET DOOR!

KER-POW! The doors slammed open as the hero finally arrived at the meeting. His cape flying behind him, and Roland burst into full on laughter, standing amongst the masters, and the odd servant still sticking around. The heroic Roland gazed around the room, and once he was sure there were enough eyes... His mouth opened wide, and with a deep breath...!

He paused, realizing there was somebody missing. "Where is Saber?" He said, doing a full turn, and raising his hand to his eyes, as if scanning the crowd once more. Because right now, the lack of Olivier was shocking. To be honest, he expected her here simply because her wisdom would help them all. Maybe he was early? He didn't think he was early. To be honest he was more sure he was late. And only then, once he was sure the person he was looking for, did he finally notice his own Master, just... Standing there.

"Well... That can't be good."

Pied Piper(Caster)

Always pay the Piper.

After the discussion and negotiation the weasel and the rat catcher made, The Rat king simply let go of Gustav's trance and set the little scamp free with its memory intact. Well, most of it anyway.. He doesn't know the true name of Caster, which is not a big issue if you think about it.

All that Ludwig knows is, someone has accepted his offer and is watching his back in this war no matter where the alchemist is, seeing that his vial and his letter has gone missing from the weasel's possession.

Information Erasure can be a fickle skill sometimes.

After Gustav left, Piper looks at the glittering vial, looking uninterested as he can be as he scans the tube, coming to a conclusion that this man-made product doesn't seem to benefit him at the moment. He has item creation that can create powerful steroids for his familiars and deadly poison that can recreate an infamous plague that carried, spread and brought down an entire country in the history books. But nevertheless, a resource is a resource no matter how you put it.

A payment is a payment, a form of compensation that Piper never ever acquires in his entire past life. A level of pettiness that haunts the Pied Piper up to his day.

It would be a waste to not keep it, showing a bit of the Rat king's frugal side unlike his master, Enzo who is an heir to his crime family and born with a silver spoon on his mouth and likes spending out of a whim.

A smirk form on his lips, on this day, Piper felt a feeling that he never felt before. a feeling of gratitude no matter how insignificant it is.

@Scallop

---

All the preparations were set, now to sit back and watch what happens. Hopefully, the chaos set by his master, Enzo is controlled and monitored by the Rat king, making sure his chess pieces are in place, Arming the mafia boys with some'items' from his package..

A contained and controlled modern warfare that the rat king meticulously thought about. Piper is not a loose cannon unlike most servants in this holy war and wages war whenever they are bored. It's just a set of orders direct from his master to give them leverage in taking over the land of the rising sun.

In the package contains, multiple Gas mask that has the shape of a certain mouse, some talisman for each member of Geneva's men and numerous amount of canisters with a toxic warning symbol on it to emphasize how extremely deadly this things are.

@Seirei No Hai

Right on schedule, Sstrategist smugly thought to herself, standing on the bow of her newest charge as its completed keel slid into the waterways. Within the gloom of the moon, the Servant could be seen standing steadily onboard an oddly-shaped ship. Unlike an ironclad or any of the 'newer' ships - seemingly fantastical - that Strategist had planned for and assisted her crew in making, this ship's profile was akin to an elliptical cylinder, tapering at the bow and stern and topped by a ship's gun and a steel, half story-high tower, topped by periscope sights. Small winglets sprouted off the bow and stern and the strange ship sat in the water to the point where one can reasonably slide off the side and into the water for a 'dip'.

However, as with all of Strategist's designs, this wasn't a pleasure cruiser or yacht. It was a ship patterned on a series of ideas trailing as far back as when a keg barrel-shaped that once wrecked terror on the oceans of America. A ship designed not to float on the sea, but to hide beneath it and to sink any enemy craft without being seen.

An E-class submersible.

Smoothly stepping off the bow of the HMS E21 and onto the pier, Strategist admired the handy-work she and her co-opted fellow sailors and Marines had been working on until this evening. Aside from the submarine, two more destroyers had been commissioned, while the half-completed hulls of three more - scraped together from whatever steel and relevant materials and equipment they could find and repurpose - were being swarmed over by welder-wielding work crews. The last two, idle ships were seized cargo ships secured to their piers; Strategist were saving these for one last project.

Aye, the last for now. As of tonight, she was effectively running short of practically every resource: steel, salvage, armaments and - if push came to it - what little Mana she'd been hoarding on to. She also knew that she could not last on what the Harbour could provide or could be taken by force-of-arms; the people within the City were suffering enough as it was without her destroying what little livelyhood they had left as well. Come the dawn, she would have to take her small fleet to track down more ships at sea to commandeer ... or to actually put her pooled-together assets to decisive use in the War, whatever the outcome of the proposed 'meet-and-greet', going on in the newly-created crater, turned out.

Problem was, even with this small task-force she had assembled, she knew she wasn't ready to make an audacious move on the Grail itself. And the latter, in of itself, was becoming a problem: tracking it down was one thing. Holding it and fighting off every other Servant who'd do-or-die to get it was another.

She sighed in audible frustration, putting a gloved hand to her forehead. "The mathematics of defeat, Fleet Admiral." she bitterly muttered, to both herself and through her link to Carly-Beth, if only to prompt the latter for advice.

Hamel Della Astrologia
DDD Hotsprings

Hamel stormed forth into the meeting room, eyes snapping over every participant within this grand gathering of masters. A tempest brewing within his constrained gaze as he swept from end to end.

With a vaguely irritated gaze and grunt, he stepped closer into the hot spring, taking care to slam the door behind him with as much force as possible. With a flourish, he quickly stamps his stave on the floor.

"Whatever this business with the Association is, make it quick."

Gesturing towards an invisible watch on his wrist to indicate his lack of time.

"I have a siege I didn't know I signed up for. So I'd appreciate it if we can get this unpleasant business over with so we can go back to peacefully killing one another."

A fox was standing at the entrance of the hot springs. Why was a fox standing there?

Even the fox had no real understanding of why it was here. It had been told to come here, adn that the master would do the rest, but it personally had no knowledge of the meeting taking place here.

Yawning, it took a step closer, and revealed what it was to the rest of the people there. It was no true fox- it’s appearance was too blurred, too smooth to be real. The odd coloring only lended credence to it’s existence as a being unlike what one would normally see or find in the wild. It’s mouth opened, and a woman’s voice came out.

“Greetings, one and all. I apologize for being unable to attend the meeting in person, but certain matters held me up. As such, I have sent this familiar here in my stead. Thank you for the invitation to this meeting. I hope this shall be productive.”

The fox gave a yip, and walked to where the rest of the gathered participants were. Kosara’s nature probably resulted in her being the last to arrive. If any other were to arrive after her, she would most certainly be surprised.



...there was nothing in this bar to distract him. A small blessing for his pained self, and also a crushing curse.

He picked up his glass with his forearms, and drank it dry. Adapt. Improvise. Overcome. Tenants he had held to his life as a thief to defeat any security, to secure any loot.

Look at him now. Having to work to drink beer.

The quiet man behind the bar had not bothered him when he had stumbled in here drunk. He did not acknowledge his existence either.

Of course he would not. Jack the Thief was nothing. Jack the Knight was a failure. Jack the Hero knew nothing of victory, only ashes of defeat.

A part of him, the Knight, cried out. He was not without merit, it said. He ignored it. Worthless merit. Merit without effort. Nothing.

The beer was bitter.

Good, Jack thought.

The taste of losing his spoils was far more bitter.

Sieges took time, and could be maintained without the direct presence of its leaders, among other things. Which was why Christopher found himself dressed in his best suit and mostly disarmed, walking towards a… colorfully named establishment where many Masters or their representatives, of which included him, would be meeting. As an aside, he also carried with him in his suitcase a few bottles of alcohol, just in case. “Bring your own beer” was an odd request, but well, he had dealt with quirkier individuals when obtaining the reagents and materials to advance his craft.

The operation had gone apace, in sieging the Trojan Walls. A base was created, some measure of launching ordnance at the fortifications, and an “army” that Avenger had… procured attacking. But the matter of the meeting had come up, and that the fact that the Mage’s Association might have issue with the ritual was immensely concerning. Japan was a backwater among backwaters, and the dictatorial family in charge of the land had rather bad blood with the Association. If the Association began to take serious action…

Without a doubt, it was a terrifying thought.

Not concerning enough for Elissa, though, however. She stayed full bore at the siege, and it was debatable that she would have consciously noticed his departure if it were not for him notifying her. But, he still had his Command Mantras. While not as good as Avenger actually being with him… it ought to suffice as insurance.

He walked into the room, and briefly did pleasantries, and sat where the gathering was, suitcase by his side.

“A pleasure to meet you all. I do hope we can work well together.”

---

The move had been efficient enough to get the necessary things here, but there hadn't been much time to get here either. A double edged sword, in a sense, yet they had taken a building and safely used magecraft to get the residents out of there without another word. A samurai-style compound that would provide a solid secondary base for her and her husband. But the safety of "that" had to be secured at all costs for things to succeed, and "that" had come along as well....not on purpose, though she wouldn't deny otherwise being claimed, but she'd taken it with them anyways just in case. Though that "other" servant hadn't taken her things, her maids, her familiars and such, she'd decided to not take chances. Salvage, brought to here and gathered nearby, and other resources would be utilized to their fullest. Not enough to permanently harm this part of the city, no the servants had done enough of that in Miyama and the Native District and such places from her observation.

But she knew for a fact that man, that red-haired demon hadn't been here, amidst a few other places in which one was blatantly obviously avoided. She had also sent her emissary to the meeting that penguin had spoken of, unable to go personally due to....extenuating circumstances regarding all of this. And preparations and moving still in progress. Her message would be carried, and that maid would deliver her messages live without having to relay things. Thank heavens for that one network. Hopefully no one was foolish enough to attack, because if "that" feel into the enemy's control.....well, the Grail War might as well be over with already.

However, one last thing did weigh on her mind a bit at the moment...

"Hideyoshi, if you go you had better be safe....baka-husband..."

...and that would be her husband potentially going to the meeting as well. Albeit in voicing her worries softly to herself, her face took on a very "tsun" pout in the process.

Though after a minute she took a few breaths, and walked back out of the building. She had set her servant to watch over preparations, make sure they were all kept safe. Especially to give warning if "that" servant approached in any measure. She had indeed re-summoned a new servant, the cost able to be paid in this case for it, but she knew doing it again was not a viable idea on her part. She had, however, informed her new servant of all that had happened, why they were moving to this location, all of that type of information of what had gone on and the meeting that was taking place.

"Has anything approached as of yet? Familiars, servants? Anything odd?" Sophia asked as she approached her new servant at a calm walking pace. She didn't sound paranoid, more like a notable calm, though at the edges of her voice a light worry hinted at deeper feelings of concern about the overall conflict and such.

@Kyuuzen

---

---

This was the place her mistress had sent her to go to, a meeting at a surprise hotsprings that had sprung up during the war. The enemy, as it were, had spread very far and wide, claiming territory and securing leylines. At this rate, the war itself was in danger, and her duty was to communicate for and with her mistress to see how this went. This even though she was but a basic maid created back at the old base of operations, which had been salvaged for all its was worth.

As she entered the main lobby, wherein many of the other participants seemed to be amidst servant and such here and there, she gave a light curtsey to the assembled group.

"I come on behalf of Mistress Sophia Tohsaka, formerly von Einzbern, who has sent me to relay information back and forth from the meeting to herself and vice versa," the maid said without so much as blinking an eye or making an expressive face, before ending her small announcement and moving on.

Her hair was white and eyes red, much like any other Einzbern homunculi that had been created in times before. However, this one seemed to have...."rich" and "lovely" features fit for social interaction at least. A large, plump chest that squeezed into the maid uniform, a round, plump booty that bounced slightly as she walked, a curvaceous and voluptuous figure that would easily draw men's eyes, soft pale skin that would shine lovely in the moonlight.....dear heavens she was physically gorgeous by many standards. Though this did not stop the maid as she proceeded to stand near the Matou Master and servant in calm preparation for the meeting, without as much as an extra glance. Then again, this was a homunculus, a maid meant for one use or another as it were.

@ManyThings@Phonic

Though out of the corner of its eye, the maid had noticed the figure of a warrior, a pale-haired servant standing there just beyond the doorway silently (Sigurd). Interesting. But nothing of major note if he was here representing a master or such. Almost seemed like he could look more handsome wearing glasses though...