Birds always had the most stories to tell.

Jangar had lived with the animals in the forest for several years as a small child; they had raised him, taught him, kept him alive, and as a result he learned to speak their language and had grown to appreciate their wisdom and potential. Every animal had something to offer, but of all of the animals Jangar had spoken to it was always his feathered friends that had the most to say; they were flighty and excitable and prone to exaggeration at times, but they were always the first to know when something interesting happened. They saw so much of the world from on high that the creatures who lived on the ground would never see. As such, birds were always the best ones to ask when he needed a scout or if he wanted to quickly learn information about an area.

However, getting useful information out of them was sometimes as difficult as drawing blood from a stone. Intelligent and attentive as they could be they were still animals and the things they considered important were drastically different from humans. Asking a bird if they had seen something interesting recently would net you a very different response than if you’d asked a person.

Even so, a woman riding horseback in this day and age was a rarity, especially given the late hour, and was something that caught even the birds’ attention. Jangar followed the directions of his flying allies to where they had last seen a woman with pine-coloured hair riding a pure white horse to a valley, from there he followed the dark shape of a flying golem directly to the location of an enemy Servant.

“Master, I’ve found the enemy. Though it seems I’m not the first one.” From the way the golem was diving towards the pair on horseback, it must have belonged to one of their allies. That he was not the first to find them was of no concern to him, he was not seeking glory after all, as it only meant that reinforcements would soon be on the way. “It appears to be the enemy Rider, Master, but they are not alone. I believe they have their Master with them. I will approach them.”

Jangar stepped out from the shadows with the Aram spear in hand, though without presence concealment they had surely already noticed him. He regarded the enemy Servant with interest, admiring their fine steed but also paying particular attention to their clothing; it was somewhat familiar, sharing traits with the clothing of his homeland without being exactly the same. Perhaps this Rider hailed from a similar part of the world as him, either a descendant or ascendant of his own people.

Interesting.

“Servant of Red! Before we do battle I want to ask you something. Tell me, do you come from the place known as Mongolia?”

@KawaiiKyouko@Reflection

---

Time for relaxation seemed to be over, Rider came to conclude. That's a drag and a half, but such was the case. The air changed, the atmosphere itself seemed to twist and turn in compliance to the minor skirmishes that had begun. While Rider had no natural ability to truly deduce if fighting had began or not, few had experienced more battles than her; it is merely an instinct. "Well, Master, just a matter of time before the trap springs now." Rider mused out from atop her steed, adjusting her seating to be more stiff and prepared; her infamous bow in right hand and the reins in left, she aloofedly let her gaze roam along the valley, waiting for any to pop up.

The very first hostile attempt she noted was a golem of some sort flying straight towards her Master, as if attempting for a swift elimination. Huh. How rude, to underestimate us like so. She grumbled it over, yet did nothing to stop it; she trusted in her Master, and stopping it is an attack on Maeve's pride. Atleast in Rider's mind. Besides, the presence of another Servant was palpable in the air.

Before she could see the results of her trust however, the sound of someone calling for her echoed throughout. The Jaws of the trap had been sprung quite quickly it would seem; now its all about trusting in her fellow Servant's to arrive in time. "Hmm? Lancer of Black, is it? How do you do on this fine evening?" She made no signs of aggression, the bow in her hand hanging lazily, and her presence just reeking of... Boredom. Yet her eyes, they revealed that piercing gaze of someone who's lived a life of war." Huh? Mongolia? But of course. There's no person that is not familiar with my Mongolia. Ah, the good, old days... Seems you're from the area as well, given your clothing? Subutai, is that you? Ah, nah, he was far fatter than you are. Oh well. Perhaps you are that lousy Kubilai? Hmm, no, you're still too thin... Perhaps that mythical Jangar that my Shaman spoke of in my youth? Hah, that'd be quite the spectacle, wouldn't it? Who else could you perhaps be then, I wonder..." Leaning forwards, relaxing herself once again, Rider mused out curiously. It seemed he was one of those honorable folks that didn't attack even if his foe was right there. She did like those types, free of corruption.

His response to Archer of Red's volley was very much the same as her own. Twisting the handle of his bow about, Philoctetes struck two of the arrows out of the air, and stepped to the side of the third. He had already notched his return arrow, pulling back on the string further than most normally would. The sign of an overdrawn bow. In moments like that, even he could match the strength of Heracles. When the arrow left his hands, it was on a direct intercept. Catching the Red Team's archer as she was landing on the rooftop.

Impressive. "Very impressive." He said outloud, eyes narrowed as he fired three arrows with precision. His three hitting the three fired by his adversary right out of the air. Three arrows colliding in the air. His shots were stronger than her own, but that hardly mattered too much when he was only firing defensively.

The thing that had his attention though was the arrow that had struck the side of his perch. He couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but the list of Archers who could pull off shots like his own, and even copy his 'misfire' at a moments notice was no doubt low. It was a precision worthy of the greats.
"I'll catch you, Archer." He said, feeling some pride in this battle. To battle somebody like him, with such similar moves? Was this a clone? Or a teacher? He had many teachers, but...

He didn't fire again, not yet. "Saber, no doubt the enemy has allies coming this way now. I want you to intercept, and I'll provide covering fire." Firing into a forest would do him no good. His arrows would kill the trees, and give away the poison that coated each one. He couldn't risk another servant figuring out such a detail. Not until he could be sure. He was watching, eyes narrowed. Watching how his enemy moved through the forest. It was so... Familiar, and graceful.

He wasn't ready to give up his vantage point just yet. Not when he could see the whole city from here.

_________________________________________________________________


Maeve had already seen the attacker before they had seen her. After all, the robes she wore had allowed her greater vision. Runes could help the body become better, if used properly after all. In one hand, she had already prepared her sling, in the other, a stone. The perfect one for dealing with stone golems.



She slung a rune. Thorn. With percision and strength, Thorn was a rune to bypass challenges. A golem was a challenge. Big or small, it was made of stone. Thorn was designed to break things, and a golem was certainly something to break. The strength and accuracy, and the golem's own trajectory would collide, and the magic would be released. Shattering the makeshift drone into pieces that rained down upon the ground.

"Well, it seems an enemy has decided that I'm vulnerable." Maeve grumbled. It was indeed true. Most mages would stay at base, avoiding conflict. Assassins alone inspired that kind of turtling, and most servants would no doubt try to kill a master if it meant an easier fight for them. She'd have to prove them wrong in her own way. She held out her hand, and the wrappings around Celtchar began to unravel. The spear flew into her hand, still sleeping, but still willing to obey its owner while it rested.

She stepped off the horse, taking a step away and tightening her grip on Celtchar's spear. "Rider, you may deal with him at your own pace. I'd ask to spar with him myself, but I doubt he'd be willing to pull punches." In her other hand, a sling. Ready to pelt stones at a moment's notice. And pelt they did. Stones scattered about, hitting trees around the forest, and digging deep into the wood. Marking the territory of a bounded field.

"I can defend myself just fine from any golems."

No sooner had Maeve uttered those words than she would be forced to back them up. All but three of Alba's remaining flock had abandoned their search in favor of an all-out assault, and now they came tearing through the woods like an angry swarm of hornets, closing in on the exposed Master. Within moments, she'd find herself pelted from all sides by suicidal bat-golems trying to overwhelm her weapons and magic with sheer speed and numbers.

Enjoy it while it lasts. In her workshop, several miles away, Alba began to chant.

"היזהרו מאלון השואב את השבץ. אני קורא למייקל, וגם לגבריאל, אתם מכים את מי שיגדלו את רצון האל."

The words came thick and fast, pouring from her mouth like a flood of living water, like the rain itself. This was old Kabbalah, powerful Kabbalah, not the kind that a mage would dare deploy under ordinary circumstances. Indeed, it was only because of the special conditions that existed tonight that Alba was able to use this freely at all.

She was well aware, however, that no brute-force use of golems would suffice here. The enemy Master had taken to the field with spear and sling and runes, entirely confident in her ability to survive. A warrior such as that would not lose in any kind of battle.

And so Alba would not fight her. Only crush her like a bug, using the most unfair and one-sided means at her disposal.

"היזהרו מאלון השואב את השבץ. אל הספירות אני מגיע, מקבל את אורו של עין סוף. מכתר תחילה, זורם לחוקמה ואז לבינה"

From Ein Sof first, the limitless emanation of divine light. Then flowing through each of the Sephirah in turn according to their natural order. The remainder of the incantation served to further refine and direct, adapting the spell to the specific conditions of the situation.

Power swirled around Alba now, filling her workshop with a blazing golden light. Her own reserves would not suffice for this; and so she grit her teeth and took the ivory dagger in her hand and drove it into her shoulder, stabbing up to the hilt. Mana surged into her Circuits from the Mystic Code, and for a few brief moments Philoctetes would feel his movements become swifter and easier, as his Master was overloaded with magical energy.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she chanted on, her soft voice growing harsh and wrathful as blood seeped from her wound.

"ובינה עד חסד, וחסד לגבורה ואז תפארת. ומתפארת יורדת לנצח, ואז הוד, ואז הקרן יסוד."

From Keter to Chokhmah, and then Binah, Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferet, Netzach, Hod, and Yesod. Surging towards Malkuth, from whence it would be unleashed into the world. To one unfamiliar with the Kabbalah, the order may have sounded arbitrary upon hearing it. Yet a single glance could reveal its true nature...


... The Lightning Flash.

Lightning, the incarnation of divine fury. Odin was a Pagan deity, and the use of his symbols was an affront to God. Alba uttered this, and the light swelled, eager to smite the one who had incurred its wrath.

Lightning, the herald of the storm. Tonight the skies were filled with clouds, and rain lashed down upon Blackrock below. Alba uttered this, and the magic flourished, taking on its natural form. The clouds churned, the downpour over the distant forest steadily intensifying.

Lightning, which struck tall trees and set them afire. Maeve fought in a forest, and just as the Sefirot formed the Tree of Life which carried through it the Lightning Flash, so too did the trees draw lightning in the material world. Alba uttered this, and the power seethed, hungrily eyeing its prey where she fought amidst the towering trunks and fallen leaves.

As the last of the golems hurtled madly towards the Master of Genghis Khan, Alba cried out one last time:

"ולבסוף למלכות. היזהרו מאלון השואב את השבץ! היכה עליה, !!!סומק ברק"

And in that moment, the sky split in two.

A thunderbolt seared itself into the eyes of the two Khans, a lightning strike more furious than anything the storm above should have produced. A low rumble echoed for miles around, audible to each and every participant of the war. Across Blackrock, children awoke in their beds, wondering how close that bolt must have struck for it to be heard so loudly.

And at the center of everything, for the blink of an eye, a bright line arced between Maeve and the sky, as the heavens themselves were unleashed upon her with all their might.


Back in her workshop, Alba collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted. Her skin gleamed with the sheen of sweat and blood, and her ivory dagger lay cold and inert within her, its stored mana having been completely drained by that last spell. With a hiss of pain, she pulled it out, tossing it aside.

Her movements were sluggish, her body sore. Archer was still taxing her resources, and an injury that she would ordinarily have healed in an instant would take about a minute to recover. Unless there were any golems left on the scene, she wouldn't be able to tell if she'd succeeded, but regardless of the result she likely wouldn't be making another attempt tonight. Even I know my limits...

That didn't mean she would be sitting idle, however. As she climbed to her feet and regained her elegant poise, Alba chewed her lip, considering. She and Archer were strong enough on their own, but the lack of coordination among the Black faction had been evident tonight. It would be worthwhile to establish more direct lines of communication, to see if she could rope anyone useful into her plans for the coming nights.

In other words, time to pay a visit to Caster of Black.

Saber of Black looked up at his companion, who was currently having some kind of arrow battle with the enemy Archer.

"You'd think you two would have the decency to get in each other's faces and beat the hell out of each other. But if you're comfortable in your little sniper's nest I don't mind having to take care of the canon fodder."

Saber took up his sword and ran into the woods, hoping to intercept the enemy Archer or one of her allies.

"Come out and plaaaaaay!"

He swung his blade at trees as he passed, clear cutting the forest as he went.

@KoL@Reflection

This would do nicely.

For a magus from any era, the creation of a workshop in which they could operate freely and with the full use of all tools at their disposal was crucial. It could be said there was no exception when it came to even the most ancient of Casters.

Therefore, it was only natural that even she would create a workshop within the territory she had established. Indeed, it was in fact ideal. This place... the location in which her team would operate out of, it was hers. Her land. The land she had claimed for herself if only briefly...

They should be thankful she permitted them to operate from inside of it. Even if they were her allies, it was still a boon.

Granted by royalty.

Caster placed one hand on her cheek, leaning on the arm of her throne.

The battle had already begun.

Her workshop was tailored to her tastes, a long hall with various desks and tables at the sides, a lengthy dining table marking its center as was fitting for the hall of a member of royalty. At its head, a throne of bone and gold currently occupied by Caster itself. The hall was lined with enormous bones as well, serving as pillars to support the arched roof. The hall was illuminated with green flames, lit in sconces fashioned from human skulls.

Caster could never be described as understated, at least.

The Servant herself was a small, frail-looking girl with deathly pale skin, pointed ears, and green eyes. Perhaps not what one would expect to see as the creator of such a workshop.

It would be unwise to mention such a thing to her.

At the moment, she had simply been contemplating how best to make her entrance. Not in person, there was little reason to perform as such. No, she would utilize her toys to enter the field of battle. As she had done in life, so to would she do now. Yes, indeed... She would demonstrate to all those on the battlefield the power of the Elven Queen without even making an appearance in person. The thought filled her with excitement. But she was no fool. Deploying her toys from a safe location would also allow her to gauge just what kind of opponents she was facing, and thus better tailor her forces to counter them.

It was at that moment, however, that one of her... allies... barged into her workshop. It was Berserker, a horned young girl clad in recognizably Japanese clothing, with monstrous red hands and equally monstrous bare red feet. It was likely she was one of those demons of the Orient, but beyond that Caster had little knowledge of her nature.

Nor did she understand why she was having candy requested of her.

"... If you've so rudely entered my workshop and still believe that I'm some sort of candymaker, I'm afraid I have few words for you," she commented, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "In fact... why aren't you assisting our allies? It's poor sportsmanship to run off on your own."

Of course, even as she admonished the Berserker, Caster's attention was in part elsewhere... Ah, there was an idea.

"Really... I would think someone who looks as strong as you would relish in the chance to demonstrate your power and strike fear into the hearts of allies and enemies alike. It's disappointing to see that may not be the case..."

@Kyoka

---

As Saber of Black slashed down trees in an attempt to draw out Archer of Red, he would soon be faced by the fact that he was not alone.

Black arrows fired from the trees, with far less coordination then those of the Archer but considerable numbers. After this initial volley, shapes began to come forth from the darkness. Clad in rusty helmets and chainmail and wielding an assortment of weapons, from axes to swords to spears, the dead had been called forth as soldiers in order to support the Caster's allies.

And this, indeed, was only the tip of the iceberg...

@ItMeGritty

---

"By the way, Lancer reports that there is no danger around our base here at the moment. Yet a strange presence in the open gardens is there, and likewise some of the enemy might be at the mines currently.

As for the plan? Hmm..."

The young man seemed to think for a moment, a hand coming up to his chin with the metal instrument still clutched in his fingers.

"Drawing out their servants should be no problem, once they get wind of their familiars being shot down. A seemingly lone enemy in a vulnerable position poses a great target to try to rush, depending on who's giving the orders. At least to give my two cents.

Given that, though, I would suggest sending out our familiars to scout for a base or other presences while Lancer catches up with Archer. Keep the enemy busy, keep their eyes off of our familiars and let whoever it is mull about at the mines. "Divide et impera".

...Thoughts?

He was no genius of stratagems or the ilk, just a mage and a student of the Clock Tower making an educated guess based on his own knowledge and ideas. Simple as that. It was almost like a game of chess, but with a lot more dangers and a lot more to lose. Get too cocky, as some other magi could be, and they'd be dead before sunrise. Move too slowly or not at all, and victory would remain out of their grasp. Even so, he felt it proper to defer back to his ally in order to see if a consensus could be come to. Lancer's information was already a boon to what was going on anywho.

Though speaking of his servant...

'Danke, Lancer. I am trying to propose a plan in the meantime, something to take advantage of the enemy splitting their forces...at least if I understood your information correctly.

Finally got my runes done as well. Should form a temporary bounded field around me when activated, albeit it's one-use due to the time I had to make these."

@Anza@ColourlessKing

---

---

A little ways from the radio tower, a servant knelt in prayer upon the large roof of the building. His attire was that of a glorious king, from his crown down to the battle attire that donned his form. A monarch chosen of god, a ruler of the Holy Land itself, and yet his appearance was just that of a...boy. Yet even so he was here, having been summoned to claim a most precious prize: The Holy Grail. The cup that had held Chirst's blood, or even not, oh how glorious the opportunity he had been blessed with! God was looking down upon him once more, it seemed, providing the chance to once again face adversity and seek to spread his glory. Once again he would seize victory, charge into the heat of battle, and with his wit and the holy blade he carried now it would be akin to the old days.

...Minus those Saracens of course. Maybe. And if not, then perhaps there would be another chance to strike at his fated foe with allies by his side?

Ah, but he was perhaps getting too lost in thought for now. There would be plenty of chance to battle, but they had to strike well and true to achieve victory! To this end his master had sent him here some time ago, allowing him to pray but also 'keep an eye out' for things going on. Though he had almost collapsed upon hearing the voice of a saint, a sweet saint called to moderate this conflict! He wished to have words with her later, if there was chance, to peak with her about her life.

Though even as he thought to himself, his master was now sending him word again. Good. Something was going on though, it seemed, and...he was to finally join the fray? Good.

Standing up once more, the lad swiftly dusted himself off and glanced towards the radio tower. After a moment he would merely smile, then, before leaping forward towards the next roof with the mighty speed of a servant. He was coming, and his allies would not be forgotten in their adversity. He had prayed long for them and those involves in this, even for the city itself. Even so, he could feel it in his bones. The din of battle.

The Holy Grail War had finally begun.

---

Back in the Red Team's manor.

Isaac was absorbed into his thoughts his mind thinking up on various scenarios, of what a his servant would consider 'Bad News'. The young man was quiet for a few minutes neither speaking through the link nor his cohorts. Suddenly his servant began to speak again telling him of the news, Isaac finally began to regain himself as he absorbed what Atlanta said. His hairs standing up as he heard of Heracles's famous arrows.

"Forgive me Archer, I was preoccupied with my thoughts, I shall relay the new found information to our team. Not to diminish your skill but still be careful alright? I will mobilize my familiars to inform Maeve as well."

Looking back at Johann, Isaac was silent before acknowledging the other Heir. His blue eyes having a steely look, as he thought about the weapon of the enemy archer was using. An extremely powerful bow used by the Greatest of the Greek Heroes, from what Isaac had read in his spare time such an arrow that was capable of forcing Chiron to let go of his immortality just to not be able to suffer the agony of the Hydra's poison. It was an incredibly powerful Noble Phantasm to whoever currently possessed it.

"I have grave news from Archer, the enemy Archer seems to possesses Heracles's Bow. Luckily Archer assures me that the enemy's shots are too weak to be Heracles himself, possibly their Archer is Poeas, his son Philoctetes, or an Argonaut who can borrow a noble phantasm. Whoever the Archer's identity inform your servant to not get cut by the enemies arrows, it will either be a quick death or an agonizing life if they are hit. I will send out some of my familiars to inform Maeve, see if you can contact the others."

Getting up from his tea Isaac quickly went toward a nearby window, looking at a trio of gargoyles that perched on top the roof a fair distance away from the main room. These were a few golems he had made using an old gargoyle statues he saw in the church last week, while not as powerful as the ones he could normally make with higher quality materials, its wings were exquisitely crafted that it flew quite flawlessly due to the sculptors talent.

"לעלות."

Isaac recited the simple command aria, the eyes of the statues were brimming with red prana as its Jewel core began to pump it full of life. The Golem's flapping their wings and soon hovered in front of his window, waiting for his next command.

"שומר. לציית. תמות. עבור הלוחם."

Isaac recited the keywords that branched into automatic responses. His creations already knowing full well of how to operate under the simple prhases he had uttered along with Maeve's designation. The golems merely nodded before flying off in search of the Maeve, their shadows seemingly simple giant birds before they disappeared into the clouds flying straight toward the trees of the Valley from Downtown. Isaac gave a quiet sigh before seeing the lightning blast in the distance, a cold sweat pouring on his head as he saw the display of Kabbalah that could not be mistaken as normal lightning.

Seems like there is an extremely strong practitioner in their ranks.

A few floors above Johann, Lancer gently smiled. "Well done, Master. A fine assessment, and a wise precaution." She was glad to know that he was looking out for himself. He might have been young, but he was capable and respectful, and she appreciated both of those traits in him... He could stand to be a little more confident, however, she thought to herself. An emperor would not have 'tried to propose' a plan, he would simply have carried it out, drawing his allies along with charm and cunning and regal charisma. Johann might not have been a monarch, but to command Fu Hao was to hold a power greater than kings, and all the responsibility that came with it.

She sat back, watching Baldwin leaping over rooftops in the distance as lightning flashed bright on the horizon. The spell was nothing powerful enough to have affected her, but the sight made her heart speed up a little, excited by thoughts of what must be going on out there. "A storm falls upon our allies," she commented to Johann, careful to keep any hint of impatience out of her tone. "Have you told them of your plan?" She didn't want to force his hand, not cut him off and start acting on her own. Yet she felt that he needed a little push, perhaps, something to quell his doubts and nudge him towards a decision.

"It is well that you should seek advice," she said, her tone soft, "But no matter how wise or well-learned the mages of Red would claim to be, only you are fit to be my Master. I trust in your judgement more than any of theirs; I obey your word and no other."

---

As much as she reminded herself to grin and bear it, this careless and happy-go-lucky behavior of her Master was more than worrying. And there was this distinct feeling that this was not something that'd change from night to morning, so the only thing that could be done at the moment was to divert this energy into more productive matters. The lack of knowledge of magecraft, though, would be difficult to surmount. Once Emily returned with that tea, Caster stopped her work for a moment to take a cup for herself and give her Master attention. "Going into the specifics, these cloaks are Mystic Codes tailored to grant its wearer Protection from the Wind and conceal one's presence within the sands to cast away hostile eyes". She let the words hang in the air for a few moments to take a sip of tea. "It's a kind of cloak fashioned for safety when travelling through the desert. Very specifix, I know, but it's better to be safe than sure".

For how much she had been talking, Apepi had downed the entirety of the tea in a few moments to return to work. There were a total of fourteen cloaks made, all of a light brown cloth with black trimmings around its borders. Golden hieroglyphics decorated these borders, the words formed from the magic infused within the fabric and giving a very faint glow that'd make it look like they were sewn with aurum threads. "All that you need to know now, Master, is that these may be pretty useful later on. I didn't outlast that dumb hunk of Seqenenre and his son for nothing. If we want to win the war, we've gotta be prepared. Say, Master..." Apepi turned around to once again address her Master. "... Have you already gotten to known the other Masters of our group? I've barely gotten a glimpse of anyone else yet. If you see anyone from our faction, tell them I've got something for them. I'll start working on a surveillance network to deploy around town during the day. After all, a Magus won't make any offensive movements during the day if we tread carefully. Oh, and thanks for the tea. It was lovely."

Tssk, it seemed the enemy had been more aggressive in their golem making than Maeve had anticipated. She hadn't even stepped more than a foot away from her servant before she was under attack. Perhaps too aggressively, as Maeve was no fool to try defending off such an attack on her own, much less not actively call out for her servant. Maybe if it had been a bit less aggressive, she might have underestimated it. Most so, she knew the point of such a reckless attack was to draw attention, for something else to attack.

Layering attacks was obvious, especially for a warrior who had grown remarkably used to standard battlefield procedure.
"Rider, defensive maneuvers right now!" She'd chide her servant for deciding to flirt with an enemy later. Right now, the commander was under attack.

Her sling swung about, striking the golems hard each time. Each time one was destroyed. The attack at least made it impossible for her to climb back onto her mount, though probably it was better she not be on a mount in the first place. She hated horses. If she was going to ride, it was going to be on the same saddle as her servant, or nothing at all. She thrust out with Lugh of Celtchar, killing a golem even if she missed, as the blade would twist about for a deadly strike. It was clear this attacker was both shameless, and a kabbalah mage. Both disgusting in their own right.

She was expecting her servant to rush over and scoop her up side saddle at the very least. After all, the chanting ritual took more than a few seconds, and in that time Maeve was ripping through the bat-like golems. They'd still have to arrive from their scattered locations, and her servant was more than capable of reaching her from a few feet away before she was struck down.

Berserker eyed the woman on her throne. Her face remained free of emotion yet... Her blood was beginning to boil so to speak. 'I am afraid I have few words for you.' Caster had said. The red candy was crushed between Berserker's fingers at that moment, ground to dust. Well it was tasty while it was there. Berserker wondered what Caster tasted like. Yes they deserved to be the replacement for the candy, a perfectly reasonable thought process.

Sportsmanship... Berserker did not quite understand what Caster meant by that. Perhaps the concept was too human.

Demonstrating power. Striking fear into the hearts of enemies. That was more along the lines of things that Berserker was interested in doing. Supporting allies... Not so much but would probably be a byproduct of the other two. Yes. Yes. Berserker had made her mind up, perhaps those Servants of Black could provide her with some entertainment...

Berserker now spoke, apparently forgetting about the issue of the candy entirely.

"Where are the enemies?" Berserker put simply as she began to leave the workshop as the words left her lips. If Caster did not know the answer to that question well. Berserker was fine with making a mess that would bring the enemies to her.

@VitaVitaAR

A smirk crossed Caster's lips.

Indeed, she had read the small oni quite effectively. The moment she had laid eyes on her, and listened to the manner in which she spoke, the black-haired girl had felt quite certain she knew exactly what it would take to ensure that Berserker went to the battlefield. And that it quite frankly wouldn't take very much.

Oh, this was going to be an enjoyable relationship, wasn't it? Caster was already getting rather excited. And her undead had joined the battle, too...

The golden-crowned magus rose to her feet, approaching the oni as she did.

"You'll find the battle has begun in the forest near the mountains. Look for an old metal tower," she explained as she drew closer. Mmm, yes, this truly was going to be delightful. The oni was a savage beast with the guise of a young girl, and yet seemed to have some sort of innocence to her as well. That alone was intriguing to her. Such a being would be quite easy to wield as a weapon, all she needed was the right words.

"I can see just how powerful you are. What a strong and impressive warrior you must be," she continued, idly gesturing with one hand as she did, "So I'm certain you will strike true fear into the enemy. In fact..."

She leaned slightly closer, though not too close. Caster felt certain that would likely make the Berserker uncomfortable.

"If you do... Perhaps I'll work on getting you that candy you desired~?"

@Kyoka

“Your Mongolia?” Ah, so it seemed he was correct in his assumption that Rider of Red was from the same place as he; what’s more, from her words it seemed she was a descendant of his people, someone who had even heard stories of him from her Shaman, and also someone of great import. Subotai? Kublai? The names were familiar even if the knowledge of them was not his own, but she spoke as if she knew them personally. Could Rider perhaps be her? “Ah, could it be that you are the Great Khan herself? How strange that I should meet you first out of all of my opponents; it seems fate is testing my resolve with such bitter irony.”

While they conversed, Rider’s Master continued to defend herself from the assault of his allies golem’s, shooting them down with a sling or striking them from the air with her spear. For a modern Magus the girl handled herself well in combat, not allowing even a single golem to reach her, though she was greatly aided by her weapon which seemed to have a life of its own; it was a sinister thing and something about it that made Lancer wary.

It was when the Master called out for Rider’s assistance that he chose to strike. Lancer launched himself forward and brought his over-sized spear to bear, swinging it around his body as he sought to sweep the legs out from under Rider’s majestic mount.

@Reflection@KawaiiKyouko

He was cautious to a fault it seemed. Enough that Philoctetes choice to not attack only brought more attacks. The sudden aggression was a sign that the enemy either didn't like him for not shooting into a forest, or just didn't like him in general. And most of all, he was starting to see just how talented this archer was, because the arrows, even while fired from the depths of the woods, were flawless shots. Far from a novice, as if he let even a single hit, he suspected they'd hurt quite a bit.

This was why he kept his perch. So that when each arrow flew at him, he'd catch them in the act. Either shooting them down with one of his own, or gracefully hoping aside to another old telephone pole when the other was to dangerous to stand on. The enemy archer was certainly top tier. He'd only seen a rare few in his life. No doubt there were others on their tier. But how many could pull all of this together? Especially on a night where the only light came from few bits of moon that weren't peeking out through the dark clouds. As such, he could only expect them to have better eyes than him. Perhaps this was Chiron? No. He doubted it. Chiron would certainly have gone defensive if he identified Hydra poison on the arrows. Besides... Chiron was a centaur. Right?

Rather, he was facing a hunter with superior archery and a preference for the woods. Still not narrowing it down. He hardly had time to start making a list either, as he continued to play defense. If Archer was shooting at him, that meant they weren't shooting at an ally. A better scenario by far, considering how much distance he needed to properly keep up in the dead of night.

He moved from telephone post, to abandoned telephone post. Evading each arrow, or rather shooting them down. Keep them interested. He couldn't see his target. A sign that they were in their element. Was this a loss? He hated to say it, but it was obvious he wasn't going to be getting any results beyond just drawing another archer's ire.

Instead, he took aim, and fired an arrow off into the distance. Not towards the other archer, but towards the bolt of lightning that had gone off. His aim remarkably true in the illumination of that little display of power. His arrow sailing through the air, and targeting the Rider his ally Lancer had engaged. A little farewell gift, or a distraction.

In the same motion, he retreated into the woods. The density of trees no doubt breaking line of sight. He too started to vanish into the forest, making his way through its woods and branches. He'd meet the enemy archer on a less cloudy night. Yes, that seemed more polite.

---

Gensai could 'perceive' that he had reached his location, Rider's familiar presence of slaughter was palpable in the air. A familiar kind of aura similar to his old companion Okada Izou. Gensai stopped a few feet outside the forest and quickly materialized himself, a large surge of magical energy was beginning to gather up in the sky his instincts screaming at him of the danger.

Noting the dark clouds he quickly determined it was a dangerous spell if it could simulate Raiden's wrath. Gensai started his sprint again, every step following tiny tracks of hooves on the ground, increasing his speed gradually as he neared toward a clearing, he could see the familiar bats swarming around Rider's master, although the woman was admittedly holding her own she wouldn't survive such a spell. Rider herself was currently preoccupied with enemy lancer he presumed.

Gensai used his built up speed to jump high into the air, his trajectory putting him in the eye of the swarm, grasping the handle of his faithful blade. Once he had come within striking range his blade was free from its sheath for mere seconds as he sliced through each of the golems with an ease none capable enough to dodge his high-speed strikes as he became a veritable hail of blades that cut through all of the bats.

The assassin landed himself gracefully a few meters away from Maeve, his sword already sheathed on his belt. Gensai wasted no time as he heard the crackle of lightning, closing the distance between himself and the allied master. He quickly grabbed the young woman in a princess carry and jumped with all his strength away from the clearing the two individuals getting launched a few meters deep into the forest.

"Sorry for the sudden, kidnapping young lady but Rider was quite preoccupied."

Gensai said to the magus he was still carrying, the two of them watching the giant bolt of electricity slam into the earth with an almost divine force. Judging by the maniacal laughter heard afterward, Rider was quite fine. Nearing the ground, Gensai used some simple acrobatics to soften their landing and then gently put Maeve down after noting no threats were in the current area, except the quickly spreading flames. Before a sudden downpour soon followed, the droplets from the clouds being released by the subsequent bouts of thunder extinguishing the impromptu forest fire but drenching both Maeve and Gensai in its wake.

"So, you wouldn't happen to have dry clothes do you?

Gensai asked his head politely turned away from the now drenched woman.

---

"Oh boy, would you look at that! A late winter storm seem to have hit our beloved Black Rock all of a sudden. We could see that lightning bolt from here at the studio. I hope you're all well-protected out there, folks. Don't forget that, the weather forecast is still predicting snow for later tonight. If you are going to go out, be sure to bring a coat and an umbrella. Remember, you can never be too safe.

Now, back to our regular night show... We have a blast from the past.

This one is for Roy, at the 8th Street's gas station. Hang in there, buddy!

From the king of pop himself..."

Ruler listened to the radio as she looked out of the window of an inconspicuous dinner place while having a warm coffee and a french toast. Her attention was momentarily taken by the lightning spell but, since it was of no consequence to her, it quickly turned to an infant nearby, who was startled by it. In that moment, she wondered how many children and pets were like that right now?

Hopefully she wouldn't have to use her own Noble Phantasm. The last thing she would want to do is to spook those she was meant to protect.

Talking about protecting, it seemed like the infant noticed Ruler's smile and became curious as was expected of any small children. Much to the chagrin of a very distraught mother, trying to convince her child that it wasn't right to pull someone else's hair, just because you thought it was pretty.

"Well, at least he isn't crying anymore, right?" Ruler said as she smiled back...

Berserker listened as carefully as one of their nature could. Woods, Old Metal Tower. That should be easy enough to find. They had plenty of time to do so. It seemed the war had already started, hmm, was she missing out? Perhaps the candy store had been a rather poor use of time. Well, she had enjoyed it regardless.

Caster appeared to have been quite pleased with her response, Berserker did not take much note of that. 'I can see just how powerful you are. What a strong and impressive warrior you must be... So I'm certain you will strike true fear into the enemy.' To hear praise from such a being as Caster struck Berserker as a rather odd thing. After all they seemed to be human. A strong and powerful warrior, perhaps the onis had seen Berserker in such a manner? The humans would never have described her as such a thing, their descriptions would be more like a savage beast, a wild monster. She hated them. She would like to kill some.

'If you do... Perhaps I'll work on getting you that candy you desired~?' Berserker regained focus at the last words of Caster. The candy? She had forgotten about that. That was indeed regrettable. She would like to have more.

Whether there was a slight smile of an innocent girl on the lips of Berserker or a mere twitch it was not entirely clear. But it could not be doubted that they looked rather pleased with that prospect. The nod of the head given was confirmation, clearly indicating a 'yes that would be very nice thank you.' kind of response. Would Berserker ever say such a thing out loud? That was very doubtful.

The promise of more candy had been given as a result for participation. Although was that not what she came here to demand in the first place? And well was the war not the entire reason why she had been brought here? A win-win perhaps? Berserker could not help but feel pleased.

"Then I will be back. Caster." Is all that Berserker had to say to that as she made her leave. She would do what was asked to be done. Fight with the Servants of Black.

There was no time wasted, Berserker began to rush towards the wooded area. Whether they saw her or not. That was of no concern. In fact, let them look upon her.

Flames began to burst out, making Berserker appear as if she were a ball of flame charging towards its target. Whether the decision was conscious or unconscious it was difficult to determine, although clearly Berserker had began to shift their shape to accentuate their demonic features.

Whether the fight was an reckless brawl of a clever skirmish. Berserker seemed to be primed to make an entrance fit for their class. Maim. Devour. Kill. Consume. Nothing about this was to be pleasant nor aesthetic. She did not scream out like a beast but there was no doubt her heart and mind was consumed with curses as she charged towards the metal tower in the woods.

@VitaVitaAR [@All those present in the woods near the tower.]