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2 mos ago
Current Be a moon unto yourself.
8 mos ago
You almost got the cheese touch....
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6 yrs ago
There are stupid questions, but if you pretend you were just joking you should be okay.
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6 yrs ago
The best business pitch is to throw the business ball past the business batter to the business catcher.
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6 yrs ago
I sometimes hear about someone having skeletons in their closet. Ok? How do you know they're still in there? You can't just assume a skeleton is gonna stay still. This is your house, not a graveyard.
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Hemlock Reguim

Apartment Workshop, Core District





The artist was relieved to find that he wasn't dealing with an emotional wreck of a Lancer who would need a night to drink his sorrows away before he was willing to fight.

"If saving Troy is your wish, go right ahead. I myself am an artist and a mage, and so I'm aiming to reach the pinnacle of painting by catching a glimpse of the Root."

Hemlock pulled open a drawer of a fine desk, rummaged around for a few seconds, and produced a set of four clean glass vials, handing them over to Hector.

"My magecraft is most effective with samples from the target's body. Blood, hair, bone... anything, really. Whether you find it on the battlefield or rip it from an enemy, I'd like you to collect samples when possible."

He unlatched the window once more, gesturing for his Servant to use it as an exit. A chill rushed in and the last remains of the summoning fog drifted out as the two stood there.

"I don't know that our enemies will think of us so differently if they find you to be a Lancer as opposed to a Saber... But I'd imagine the surprise when you gain a few extra feet of reach might offer you the chance to claim victory in combat. Use your discretion- Attack with the weapon that seems best suited to the enemy at hand, but keep in mind that's the form of Durindana you'll be using for the rest of the war until we're forced to reveal that little trick. In either case, don't call its true name tonight. If the enemy brings out their Noble Phantasm, just retreat with knowledge of their identity while hiding your own."

Closing his eyes, Hemlock looked through one of his familiars for a moment, and his face twisted in annoyance.

"An Assassin... How can I venture out to paint in person with someone like that running around?" His gaze returned to the apartment. "Alright, your orders for tonight are to scout the area and engage with any enemy who's not currently fighting someone. Don't interrupt a battle that's already happening- if they want to kill each other or reveal their trump cards, let them. However, kill that Assassin if she survives."

A night of violence awaited, just beyond the window.

"Now, Lancer, Saber, or whatever you tell the enemy you are. It's easier to skirmish and disengage without me to worry about, right? I'll join you on the streets tomorrow. Go."

. . .

Once Hemlock was alone once more, he would uncover the easel closest to the large window. The barely-started painting on that canvas resembled the breathtaking view of the tower just beyond it. He placed dollops of paint onto his palette.

A darker blue, maybe. The sky had become even more beautiful while he had been focused on pointless tactics.

Perhaps he would include some aspect of the current battle in this piece, if it became flashy enough to be seen from his window.

Hemlock Reguim

Apartment Workshop, Core District





Hemlock's eyes shone. The warrior prince of Troy was his Servant. Once that name touched his ears, the simple "colours" which had conveyed Lancer's basic parameters to him expanded, blossoming out to paint a much greater picture of a strong martial fighter with excellent tactical abilities and a versatile weapon of great power. This hero was everything he could have hoped for. It had been smart, he thought, to use an open-ended catalyst like a chunk from Troy's gate, leaving room for the Grail to send him an ally based on compatibility. However, the next words Hector spoke troubled the painter slightly...

"Are you saying you don't know? The Grail is supposed to send Servants into the world with an understanding of modern language, technology, and history, but did it leave out the ending to your own story? Hemlock paced around the room for a moment. "In that case, I hate to be the one to tell you, but Troy did fall. The king of Ithaca hid men inside of a large wooden horse presented as a gift to your people. They emerged in the night and opened the way for armies to enter the city. If it's any consolation to you, your brother did slay Achilles some time before that."

He gestured to an armchair silently. If Hector needed time to process that his home had been destroyed, his Master would let him take a seat and bring him something to drink.

"I'm sorry. I'm hoping to make a move in the war sometime tonight. With your abilities, we can suss out what our enemies are capable of without major risk. When you're feeling up to it, there are a few Servants converging on that tower." The mage nodded to the apartment's largest window, which gave a view of the city's most famous landmark against a gorgeous night sky. His gaze lingered there, focused on something.

Aah ... That's quite good. I'll have to paint that before some idiot knocks it over.

Based on what his familiars told him was happening there at the moment ... He captured the image in his mind, just to be safe.

Hemlock Reguim

Apartment Workshop, Core District





"Knock on..? Aren't you supposed to say that after someone jinxes something?"

Hemlock felt the hero's presence even before he laid eyes on him. The fog, a byproduct of bringing a warrior from hundreds of years in the past to his apartment, began to settle. Thus, the two could see each other. Amidst the scene, something came to the painter's mind. He spoke restlessly, "Hemlock Reguim, magus of the modern day. Now, just a moment..."

He quickly moved to a window and threw it open, noticing as he did the red markings on the back of his hand. "This fog is probably wreaking hell on my canvases." The vapour began to waft out into the night air, and Hemlock turned back to the spirit he had conjured, who became more and more visible as the last wisps of mist dispersed. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I simply couldn't let my works sit in this moisture for too long. I'm not entirely sure if that was actually water vapour, but I hate to take chances where paintings are involved."

After a few moments, Hemlock closed the window again. He was slightly thrown off by the spirit's attitude, but he supposed it was fine for someone to be that easygoing when they were capable of annihilating most opposition with their bare hands. "As you can probably tell, I'm the mage who summoned you, which makes me your Master. If you find the terms 'Servant' and 'Master' demeaning then you're free to come up with something better. He extended a hand, to seal their bond. Hemlock's new status as a Master gave him insight into the man's capabilities. Strong, bright, vibrant colours in all areas, especially swiftness. If his Servant was so quick, perhaps he had struck fortune beyond fortune and summoned the greatest hero of that war? No, he hadn't survived to an age where he might call himself an 'old man'. "Of course, I must arrange a plan for this war. First, please tell me your class and true name so that I understand what you can do. However, my basic goal won't change based on your abilities: to grasp Paris and the Grail within these eight days, we'll have to eliminate each of our opponents, starting tonight."

Hemlock Reguim

Apartment Workshop, Core District




Hemlock flicked the latch on the window, letting a dove fly in from outside and land on his finger.

"...I see. That man is entirely uninteresting."

The familiar left the way in had come, and its creator closed the window once more. The last remnants of the wind that had been let it caused the curtains to sway back and forth, as well as the cloths covering a few easels stationed around the room. Hemlock turned around and looked over his recently-created workshop. It was beautiful, and that was what mattered. Beauty was necessary to create beauty. Aside from candles, the only source of light in the rather high-quality venue he had procured was the moon shining in through a massive window, which also gave a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower. One of the covered easels was just next to that window, a barely-started project in which he would be pushed to his limits to portray one of the greatest constructions of mankind. The magus moved to a fine wooden desk and took an object wrapped in white cloth from one of the drawers. Unfolding the wrappings revealed a chunk of wood that had once been part of a certain city's gate.

"Which side will my hero hail from? I wonder..."

Hemlock walked to the centre of the room. The many canvases were arranged around this spot, making it simply perfect, and before him was a complex marking made with drops of mercury. He placed the chunk of wood at his feet and extended one arm towards the circle, which began to emit light.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill, and fill..."

As the chant continued, that light grew brighter with each verse, and fog began to waft from the mercury.

"...Raise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Close the four cardinal gates..."

That fog completely obscured the summoning circle, where the body of an ancient hero began to take form.

"...An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain the beauty of Heaven, and cast aside the unsightly evils of Hell..."

A powerful wave of air threatened to blow Hemlock off his feet, but he stood strong.

"...Come forth from the ring of restraint, Protector of the Balance!"

And with that, the summoning was complete.

...Did it work?
:^)





No Saber after all. :^(
I'll do something cooler in a sec.
Yes I'm on it too.
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