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Jack
Miyama Town


Running through the smoke, Jack growled as his feet flew with the speed he could muster as a Servant. Flying through the air, he found himself blinded for a split second before he returned to the earth and took off running once more.

The agility of a swindler was supposed to be found in a singular type of situation, Escapes. The very notion that a thief would run towards his mark rather than carefully approach only to vanish with their speed and trickery once the job was done was antithetical to the very notion of burglary.

But in this case, Jack knew he wasn’t to act as a thief. No, with this kind of fire, his first thought might have been to become a vulture, a bird to swoop down on the weakened and defeated to rob their corpse before disappearing with it’s spoils. His footsteps weren’t the ambling pace of scouting for corpses however. It was the full-tilt dash of a man with a target, a goal, who would not be stopped by something by a little smoke. Contracts weren't his style, but the reward was just oh so tempting-

Turning a corner, he spotted his own target behind the hazy air the flames cast, a proud figure, lifting a horn of sorts, it’s make pristine and wonderful, to blow into it. With a wry grin on his face, a blade forms in his own hand, a long thing of strange make, more suited to ripping and sawing, than the battlefield from all appearances. A step forward, and the Jack of before becomes a new Jack, a foot shorter and even faster, a tighter grip on his blade, and a wider grin on his face.

The final sprint.

And as the horn reaches the mouth of the tall man-

Jack cuts at his legs.

Giants shall topple.

@Reflection


Jack
Commerce District


If this were any other situation, Jack wouldn’t have hesitated to call his master suicidal. As it stood, with him standing here and prepared to grab her and run if things got too out of hand, he downgraded his evaluation to merely “very reckless”. A good thief had to know more than how to steal, and this was a decent time to teach her about dealing with locals, especially those she was planning to scam.

“Damn nice playing, little miss.” He says aloud. “And to think here I found you a complete lost cause at any kind of game of chance six months ago.” Lose half, ease off. “Although it’s close to your bedtime, doncha think?” Drop.

Words zip from his mind into hers. “While mental conversations like this are really effective, it’s better to practice the code we set up. You won’t have this advantage at every heist and play you make, you know. Besides, winning like that only creates bad feelings. If you’re dealing with locals and you don’t even know what kind of groups are around and how the people are like, you’re better off trying not to hurt everybody’s feelings too much. Who knows if they’ll go crying to mommy and daddy, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”


Kosara Damyanova Varbanova


In the Woods, Southern Moor


Under the moonlight obscured by the branches above, a dance is held. A wordless song is held in tune with the steps, a bewitching dance that calls forth and ensnares the listeners. In time, the dance slows, until the woman still entirely, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. With a disgruntled look on her face, she turns and scans her surroundings.

“Hmph. To think that I would have needed to make such sloppy preparations. I’m slipping. Then again, one cannot ignore the stresses of time. Hurried work is wasted work, but in this case I can accept this result.” Kosara shook her head as she moved to a fold-up chair she had laid out and sat down.

For the disgrace of the Clocktower to find herself in this backwater was a surprise, if only because the backwater woods she found herself in wasn’t the usual backwater stretch of forestry she was usually secluded in.

Her family had sent a missive about the interesting ritual being held here, and with her interest piqued, she had willingly set off to this land and found herself as a participant in the Holy Grail War. She knew that her family had sent her here in the hopes of keeping her out of their hair for as long as possible, perhaps even permanently, but she couldn’t bring herself to be all that bothered by it. Her purpose in coming here was to try and understand the method by which Heroic Spirits would be summoned and made to serve as familiars, to become existences akin to familiars despite what they were in life. Not to gather wraiths and slap on the appearance and name of such legendary figures, but to give them a container and summon them, even if in part, to this plane.

Scratching her hand, she gazed idly at the red seals burned into her skin. And the Command Seals. One could not forget the most important part of the equation that allowed this ritual to proceed and not result in the slaughter of the magi who were calling upon all sorts of legends to aid them. Speaking of which-

“Rider. How far have you gotten with preparations? My end is done for the night. And just in time too.” Kosara called out to her own Servant, looking up at the fading night.

Early birds may have their pick of worms, but even latecomers could scrounge up something for themselves. She’d have to be careful with how she moved from now on with other powerhouses holding the territory before her. But in her territory? Well, she felt she didn’t have to worry as much thanks to her Servant.

Eh, what’s this now? A call?

That’s strange. I’m pretty sure I left it on mute.

Huh? Compatibility summon? I guess I’m interested now. I wouldn’t be too against working with someone that can get me. They must be some amazing underdog or some real cunning fella-

What the fuck was that?

You’re saying the reason it’s me is because a stolen watch and wallet was used as a catalyst?!

YOU GODDAMN LYING-


Jack
Fuyuki Shopping Center


@Argonaut
A summoning is a grand event. One in which a Heroic Spirit, a being of legend and myth is brought forth from the Throne and given temporary form to walk the earth. A being of mystery, shrouded in mist, takes the stage-

“Fuck that’s pathetic.”

...the smoke clears to a thoroughly unimpressive figure rifling through the wallet that had fallen on the floor. Despite his disparagement, he nonetheless pulls out the meager amount of cash left in the wallet and stuffs it into a pouch on his waist. Giving the watches a quick once-over, he tosses them aside, before finally looking at the person in front of him.

“So, you’re the one who summoned me? Good to meet you. I’m Jack, of the class...Saber. Wow, you really messed around with the summoning didn’t you? In any case, let’s get along, Master.” A beaming smile that almost makes his initial actions upon summoning seem like a lie.

“Anything specific you wanted from me?”



My Servant. Messed up on the first posting.


My Servant. Messed up on the first posting.
Still open?
@ReallyDumb Unfortunately not, but I can put you on the roster for the next Tournament, if you'd like? (:


Sure!
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