vFear

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

h o m o n c u l u s w i f e d e t e c t e d

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

I hope we're allowed to post 'cause, yeah, there's that.

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

Location: Urquhart Castle, Scotland.
Interacting with: The masters by association.
Magical energy: 177 out of 180.

"Two uniformed guards patrolling underneath the east ramparts..." Sonja muttered, as if a world away from the reality they were in. With both of her eyes pressed shut, one hand against the wall for stability and two feet spread comfortably at shoulder with, Sonja focused on the perception from her sparrow familiar. It was hard to see overhead - the transparent nature of its construction made it blend in with the night, taking on the dark blue from the sky above. With a gentle motion from her left hand and a faint glow from under her sleeve, the sparrow suddenly changed direction, weaving to keep the two security officers in sight. She could see the summoning site from above, and the group not too far from it. They were close. "..and.. go now. Don't stop, this is the last leg." After giving the word to the haphazardous pack, she opened her eyes - returning her senses to her own point of view - and made her way forward herself. She'd found herself a bit of a vein to work in doing this, operating in a support role: throughout the heist, she monitored the situation from above and below, keeping the party well informed and going where few others could fly or fit.

After crossing the last gap, Sonja briefly closed her eyes to check on the guards: fortunately, they were none the wiser. With her brief check completed, she moved to close in towards the summoning circles. As she dropped to a knee she slipped her backpack off her back, bringing it about to rest it on the grass besides her. A brief search gave her what she was looking for: several dirty squares of paper towel, wrapped snugly about a vaguely rectangular object. She reached forward to unwrap it before a voice drew her attention away:
"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice began, "it is good to 'ave you 'ere tonight..." It was as soon as that that she stopped paying attention. It was no secret she wasn't fond of speeches - while some of the younger conspirators, some as young as 15, might appreciate some stirring words, she was no such conspirator. She had almost 10 years over the youngest, even some of the selected masters, so it was only natural her tastes and preferences differed; or at least, that's how she justified it to herself. She returned her attention to the paper towel, now unwrapping it to reveal the prize within: the ancient head of a Japanese Ono, shaped in a crescent D and subjected to all sorts of deterioration and attrition. Most would be forgiven for not identifying the tortured bit of steel as an item of legend: the head of the Ono wielded by Kintaro, the Golden Boy. After stuffing the paper towel back into her bag, she gently set the axe head down in the center of her selected summoning circle.

While the speech went on, Sonja went about double-checking the summoning circle. Nothing less than perfect would do: they were up against the Clocktower elite, some of the best magus on the planet, as a haphazardous of rebellious adolescents and young adults. Too much was at stake for an oversight to end the grand plan after so much was already committed; for all she knew, Ayondale himself could be following them to their summoning circle, or could have even sabotaged it already. Which reminded her... Mid-way through the inspection, Sonja closed her eyes and waved her hand to update the sparrow's orders. From the perception of the nimble creature above, she surveyed the surrounds again and yet again, watching for anything out of place. Heavens forbid that Ayondale already has enforcers nearby...

Throughout the remainder of the speech, until the positions were taken by the seven masters, Sonja continued to inspect the circle and survey the surrounds time and time again. The summoning has to be perfect. There was no room for error, not against a superior enemy. It has to be perfect.

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

@Grey @1Charak2
Do either of you need a servant pairing? Archer's still pending a master.

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

@1Charak2
>tfw the machine spirit is just tolerated heresy
feelsbadman

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

In the interest of timescaling and such, I'll probably hold off for a bit before making a post approaching Julianna to give others a chance to post and interact, etc. Unless told otherwise, anyways.

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

Prince Antoine

Location: Abhainn's ballroom.
Interacting with: King Maddox Auclair @Scarlet Loup; Prince William @Legion02; Lady Amaryllis @Filthy Mudblood; Lady Julianna (mentioned) @HushedWhispers

Antoine offered a gentle smile as he rose from his last bow, after - to his concealed relief, at risk of embarrassing himself - kissing the hand of Lady Ward. He glanced between both Maddox and Ward to share the smile before offering his reply:
"The trip went well enough. The Abhainn river is spectacular, isn't it? Oh no, please, no need to apologize, my lady - family is paramount, after all." he replied with his attention on Lady Ward, before glancing over towards King Maddox to continue: "Why yes, I believe we will be nephew and uncle. A day I look forward to." Throughout the exchange, Antoine met William's fiery gaze, even if for but a moment, but for that moment he offered the same gentle smile before simply moving his gaze on.

Out of respect and some degree of passing interest, Antoine remained quiet to let Lady Ward and King Maddox speak. As he folded his hands neatly behind his back, he turned his attention to Price William as he made his leave:
"Farewell, your grace." he responded simply, with a gentle smile and a vague bow. He met the prince's daggers with a fairly standard gaze, although also perhaps one that betrayed the focus of his thoughts: calculating. While the conversation went on between Maddox and Ward, to which he returned his gaze to, he gathered his thoughts: his haphazardous plan to get a foothold with Prince William went about as well as expected, although he was now certainly in a good position to press his objective. It was fortunate enough that, at the tail end of the conversation between Maddox and Ward, an almost perfectly opportunity presented itself:
"Please, don't let me interrupt your reunion; it's a wonderful thing, rekindling friendships." Once again, for the umpteenth time since the conversation again, Antoine offered another bow - this time, a parting one. "I hope you enjoy your night your majesty, my lady." He offered each one an affirmative nod as he mentioned their titles before he turned to leave. As he started to make his exit, a wave of hesitation came over him: the conversation was done, perhaps he should make a second pass later. As if a metaphorical slap to the face, Antoine reminded himself: fortune favors the bold.

"Oh, I beg my pardon, your majesty-" Antoine began, turning towards the King - having made a point of stopping almost right next to him so he could speak a little more quietly: "I believe it's in the interest of the realm that this union is successful, so if there's anything I can do to ensure it's success... please feel free to write. I think we've all had enough of the bloodshed." He offered a brief parting smile and nod before now turning to leave. As he continued on his stride, once he was out of the King's estimated earshot, he let out a quiet and tired sigh. Admittedly, he was nervous: if Jack I was aware of what could in some schools of thought be treason - need not mention his little birds about - it might give Jack the excuse he likely wants to get rid of him, or worse. A necessary risk, he reminded himself time and time again, for the sake of the realm.

In foresight, his meeting with King Maddox could have scarcely gone better: it was brief, concise and polite. It was only a shame about Prince William. All that remained was the future Queen before he could really branch out in his networking - no doubt, he should be making friends with the lords and ladies of the court, especially those landed - especially those landed in Slibah. After spotting the future Queen in the crowd, Antoine started his way over.

Fate/numerus clausus (A Great Holy Grail War RP in Scotland!)

@Turboshitter Ready for that dank IC. I just need to pair Archer up with one of the WIP masters.

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

Post is still pending a spell check so that should follow pretty soon. I hope I'm not interrupting any planned character development or anything; if so, let me know and I'll delete the post and do something else if you want me to.

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

Prince Antoine

Location: Guest chambers → Abhainn's ballroom.
Interacting with: King Maddox Auclair @Scarlet Loup; Prince William @Legion02; Lady Amaryllis @Filthy Mudblood; Lady Julianna (mentioned) @HushedWhispers.

It was almost cruel, in a way: looking out the window from his guest chambers, Antoine found there was so much about Abhainn that struck similar to Slibah, yet there was so much that was starkly different. No matter how much he tried to focus on the horizon, to try and measure and identify the differences between the peaks and valleys, his attention always wandered back to the commoners. Out in the distance, naked flames atop torches dotted about as the peasantry secured their lands for the night, while the merchants and better-off carried about the city to celebrate the royal marriage in their own way.
"Off to the inn, no doubt..." Antoine thought out loud, with one foot crossed over the other knee and his chin resting atop a fist. With the thought of the royal marriage and the celebartions, his thoughts wandered to the next event on the itinerary: the masquerade ball, as hosted by none other than the King of Abhainn. A gentle scowl formed on his face as his thoughts were guided back to harsher things: there would no doubt that word of Jack's actions would have spread throughout the King's courtiers, and if the King truly intended to sabotage the royal marriage, the masquerade would be an excellent time to do it.

Antoine let out a gentle sigh as he twisted about, standing from his chair to step towards the mirror. Looking at the reflection of himself, bare for all bar undergarments, he didn't see much. It was just him, after all - the very same person he had woken up to for his whole life. While he continued to look, his thoughts were not with the image before him. He had every intention to become the King of Slibah one day, whether it be through patience or intrigue. His thoughts returned to the peasantry in the fields and the merchants in the streets: he imagined them in battle ranks, clutching spears in hand at the front of an Abhainn Army. That would more than likely be their place in a war; need not mention, it would likely be their last place. Antoine let out a tired sigh as the thought occurred to him: compared to that image, intrigue almost seemed like a mercy.

With a slap to his own face and a mouthful of water, Antoine centered his thoughts. His father would no doubt be scheming how he could ruin the masquerade and his mother would no doubt be scheming how to control the damage. His parents may scold him for not arriving with them - a particular risk in itself where his father is considered - although they could be forgiven for forgetting about him, with the weight of recent events considered. He lifted both his hands to his face and pulled down on his cheeks; the core of it all is that if he wanted to have any sort of political clout, he needed friends, and that went double if he was to have any part in averting a war. The King and future Queen of Abhainn would definitely be the people to have a good impression with by the end of the masquerade, although the odds were certainly against him...

Almost as if blowing out a candle, Antoine switched from swift reflection to snatching up his trousers for the night. After sitting the waistband snug about his waist, he creaked the door open:
"Ah-" he began, interrupted when his eyes fell on the two servants. "I'm terribly sorry, I did not realize I had kept you both waiting." He pulled open the door as he continued: "Please, come in. I'd like a hand with my attire, if you'd please."

---

The longer Antoine lingered in the ballroom, moving from circle to circle, the more anxious he felt. The nobles were skeptical of Slibah and, as much as he hated to admit it, for fair enough reason. While it was his intention to arrive early, he couldn't help but feel he got there too early; he had yet to sight either the future Queen or the King, both of which were his prime marks for the evening. It was just then, as the thought came to him, that the arrival of Lady Julianna was announced. Antoine's head craned, quickly seeking out the new arrival before his feet set into quick motion. Navigating through the crowd, let alone with courtesy, was a difficult task in and of itself. By the time he drew near, he sighted another starting a conversation with her.
"It seems as though you've made quite the entrance, your majesty." the woman began, greeting the future Queen with a curtsy. Antoine watched for a moment, contemplating whether or not be should approach, before the fanfare sung announcing the arrival of another. His eyes shifted to the staircase, at which he spotted his other mark for the night: the King of Abhainn. After a moment of thought, he pressed any creases out of his doublet before moving to meet the King.

As Antoine approached the King, who was already in conversation, he slowed his pace to listen to the tail end:
"Excuse me, my lady, I...you reminded me of someone..." the King explained, to the vague interest of Antoine. It appeared he was too slow: both the King and Queen were already in conversation, so perhaps he'd have to wait. His glance shifted over to the Prince of Abhainn - definitely somebody he had intended to avoid, knowing his thoughts on Slibah, although perhaps while he was with his father...

Antoine approached the small gathering, his white crescent mask sitting in suite with his black and white formal attire.
"Not a bad time I hope, your majesty?" Antoine asked as he approached the King and his circle, coming to a halt with a curt bow. He continued to speak after he rose:
"Prince Antoine, of Slibah. I understand congratulations are in order - for both your wedding and this lovely masquerade." His attention moved next to Prince William, to which he offered another bow. "And Prince William - I believe I haven't had the pleasure..." Finally, his gaze settled on the last in the circle - Lady Ward, who he had yet to meet. "...nor have we, my lady." Yet a third time, he bowed forward to introduce himself, although this time he attempted to gently take her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles - although, if there were a sign of retraction or hesitation, he'd make his best attempt to play it into a standard bow: whether it be awkwardly or not.