[IC] Fate/ITP: The Fifth Holy Grail War!

[lord pringle]

"-the murders were committed, the fire was lit. Only ten of the bodies were recovered, despite it being a relatively minor fire at a packed restaurant. If you know of anyone who was dining at Saito's Bistro yesterday, please call the police at their hotline.
In lighter news, Fuyuki's very own Matou Rin is returning to Fuyuki for a few weeks. We managed to catch an exclusive interview with her as she arrived this morning, which we will bring to you now.
"Ms. Matou! Ms. Matou! What brings you back to your hometown?"
"I am trying to get to my hotel, will you just-"
"Ms. Matou, rumors are that your health is failing-"
"That is a moronic notion. Can one not simply return to a city without a conspiracy being formed?"
"Ms. Mato-
The priest switched the television off. He had hoped to gain an insight into the city around him, but had only been reminded of why he didn't watch the news. The newscasters (and, he figured, the people at large) cared more about success stories than unsolved murders. He supposed that it made his job easier, that people would be too busy mimicking the newest fashion trends to notice the secret war going on throughout the city, a war that he had pledged to maintain the secrecy of. Sometimes he questioned the necessity of this whole system, but he tried to not doubt things. He was startled out of his thoughts when a device on the table behind him whirred to life. He smiled weakly and moved over to it. He read over the device, running a hand through his shoulder length hair (one of the few earthly pleasures he allowed himself) and let out a sigh. All seven servants had been summoned. The war, the fifth of this kind to ever take place, was finally starting. He was nervous, probably more nervous than he had ever been, but his beloved late father had trained him well. Father Kotomine took a sip of his fine wine (another of his earthly pleasures) and went down into the churches main hall. He sent out one of his familiars before flopping down into a pew. He was on the clock now, and would have to savor every moment of leisure time he could get from now on.

---

Across the city, the servants were summoned. Rider, Saber, Lancer, Archer, Caster, Assassin and Berserker were pulled from their resting spots at the Throne of Heroes and given bodies of pure mana. The seven had appeared and now the war was on, for good or for ill.

[MrBudquaza]

The property was located in the suburbs of Fuyuki, far away from the hustle of the city. Money was no object for Feldon, and he was picky when choosing his residence and base of operations for the next period of time. He knew that it had to be remote enough to avoid enquiring neighbors getting involved, but also central enough for him to be able to leap into action. He chose a bungalow attached to a small grassy plot, and over the month he had already spent in Fuyuki, surveying the area and getting a feel for his surroundings, he had had a one room shed built in that plot. The shed, once dreary, was now pleasant, decorated by modern furniture, contrasted by renaissance paintings covering the walls. Sitting in chair suspended from the ceiling by a chain, Feldon nervously pushed himself back and forth. This is my specialty he thought. Sure, maybe I’m not the best at summoning, but the rune I’ve made for the summon is flawless. He stood up and paced, feeling as if he was about explode from the nerves, finally coming to a rest at the small window pointed to the east. Looking out at the early morning sky, he anxiously awaited the first light--the time of summoning. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Feldon placed a large piece of driftwood found at the Cape of Good Hope into the center of his summoning rune and got to work reciting the incantation. The large crest on the floor, freshly painted in squid ink, began to boil and shift colors, first blue, then green, settling at an off white shade. Feldon, beaming, was ecstatic the summoning was going so well, and let out a small laugh barely able to contain himself. All of the sudden, the ink flew together creating a perfect sphere floating a metre off the ground. The sphere began to writhe, as if someone trapped inside was trying to escape, and then it started to take shape, molding around the body that was so desperately trying to break out. It continued to shape around the body, becoming more and more skin tone, and features of a face could start to be made out. The ink continued to stretch out over the body becoming skin, and taking the shape of a body, while clothes started to grow out of it. I’ve done it. Let the Holy Grail war commence!

[Implodio]

She knew it would be Saber, even before it was Saber.

That was the boon of the knowing what comes. After you had spent a life divining, peeling back the veils of earth and heaven to see what will, what will not, what must not, what never should but does, the magic bleeds into the soul. It creases a person like the march of time, or the elastic on a tight pair of socks; leaving its ribbed ghost around the ankle of the wearer. The knowing what comes swept through her like a cool breeze on a hot day. As she gingerly mopped her brow with a handkerchief and finished her summoning rune, Yamahata Suzu thought about that breeze.

Her magic senses picked up the elements from it as if she were drawing out its illusory smells, and their presumed origins. But instead of the wildflowers, or the fragrance of sizzling barbecue, or the salt perfume of the ocean, this breeze carried... delight, trepidation and a sharp bouquet of vigorous hope. Saber, then. The Grail will give me Saber, and I'll be one step closer to success without even putting on my slippers. And just as well, too; her rune was intricately practiced, planned, and executed. She deserved Saber; and the gloating, Clocktower chin-strokers could choke on their hemlock when it was not an Aozaki or an Einzbern or a Matou, but a Yamahata who began with her best foot forward. She'd come at them like a hungry ghost; a righteous spectre of a memory that would not stay dead. Then she'd show them.

But before she could show them, she needed to stand up; and that was challenge enough.

Inscribing the rune had been hands-and-knees work, and her tiny old body had seized up after so much time hunkered down. She shuffled over to the nearby couch at a slow crawl and made her way back to her feet over the period of a wince-filled, wheeze punctuated thirty seconds. Vengeance is a young woman's game. The thought made her titter to herself with laughter before a self pitying wince cut that short too; and she traded the remains of that humor for the easy relief of standing still, leaning on her cane, and feeling the aches melt slowly out of her. Now that she was standing, she became aware of the gentle rock and bob of the houseboat again. It made her sad that she would never use it again; a wonderful home for an old lady who did not want to own land. They always scry for land (the predictable old windbags), and erecting masking spells over and over again was tiresome. When she stepped on to the pier though, she would not be running away anymore. She wanted them to come to her; she was tired, and old. They could make the effort, this time.

She gripped the aluminium walking cane in two hands, and gestured over the rune; doubling the instrument as a staff, and feeling the magics siphon into it; from the what comes to the breeze to her arms, to the staff, to the rune, to the Throne of Heroes. She had never summoned like this before, but the words curled off her tongue so naturally.

Because she had known before that she would summon like this now; and so she burgled a kind of homemade familiarity with this first, last, best summoning. The boards of the ship's upper deck creaked above her, as if the wood saw what was happening to the lower deck, and strained against its nature as if trying to flee. Windows rattled, and cracked. She smiled, as the smoke rose up and began to knit a figure together.

She felt...

Delight. Trepidation. But vigorous hope. It was going to be a good war.

Come to me.

[Fearan]

Rider
The air in the shed darkened, being saturated a distinct smell of ozone - perhaps, because of excess prana, but who knows - the trappings of grand rituals such as the Heaven's Feel were far from understood. And with the smell of storm, clad in howling winds he came, trashing the workshop of the pitiful magus with his presense alone. The salted giant crashed the anchor, he was carrying at the floor of the shed, looked around with the menacing stare of his only eye and roared - there were no other words to describe his voice - it seemed the man had literally no ability to speak in quiet or at least medium-loud voice.
- I AM RIDER! PRESENT YOURSELF! NOW!

Yukito
It was a quiet night in Yukito's apartament - a completely random apartment in the newest part of the town, with only basic barriers to conseal magecraft inside and to avoid people's attention. That was his method of protecting against the perils of the Grail war - good luck attacking a workshop in the apartment block full of civilians - easy way to get executors on your tail. There was always a matter off Assassin, though - well, Yukito had another idea on how to deal with that. but that was the story for another time. Now in the living room of the flat, magecraft was performed. His first step and his final bid in the Grail War. The Summoning.
- Silver and Iron to the origin - ...the foxy-looking man chanted before an empty ritual circle? Catalyst? That was not the Way - the Way was to accept whatever the Grail throws at you. Yukito knew, he would be considered unorthodox at the very least. But hey - did he care? Not really.

[MrBudquaza]

Feldon

The howling winds brought about by his servant’s summoning buffeted Feldon and chilled him to the bone, forcing his eyes shut and pushing the breath out of him. For what felt like an eternity Feldon was overwhelmed, as if the entire might of a hurricane had been brought about in the confines of his shed. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that all the priceless art around him would be ruined, but oh well, they could be replaced later. The voice was loud, well, loud was an understatement, but there was something else to it, a commanding aura that came about with it that made Feldon fear for his life should he not snap to attention. Sharply inhaling, his breath was cut short by the sheer mana Rider exerted, it was if Feldon was trying to breath underwater, and his brain was simply telling him he could not do it. Every fibre of his being was screaming, and it was at this moment that Feldon knew he was dealing with a being far beyond anything he ever expected--So this was a heroic spirit. Steeling himself Feldon focused on his next moves. As the wind died down, he opened his eyes. Before him stood his soon to be servant, tall and leather skinned. He was clad in a dark fuschia, almost red, coat that was left open to reveal his bare chest. Metal gauntlets reaching to his elbow, covered by gloves the same color as his coat. His face was well defined, with a nose that ended pointed slightly upward and his right eye was squinted, seeming to judge every movement (or lackthereof) Feldon made. His left eye was covered by a large leather patch affixed to a bandanna, that held up his light purple hair.

Feldon extended his fist to the side, then opened it, activating the rune painted on the flat ceiling of the shed. Slightly opaque walls immediately descended around Rider. Combining his two areas of expertise, Feldon was confident that even a servant couldn’t instantly break out of the zone he had made. As he prayed that this would not bring the disdain of Rider, Feldon began to recite the contract he had rehearsed.

You stand before the 9th inheritor of the Errol crest, Feldon. I shall be your anchor to this world as you shall be my guardian. I will be your shield, and you, my sword. Conquest is what we seek, and dominion is what we shall have. Holding out his right hand, Feldon showed Rider his command spells, anchor shaped. Pledge yourself to be my servant, and I shall fulfill the role The Grail has set forth for me. Rider, identify yourself and the contract will be sealed, all barriers will be dropped, and we shall claim the grail as partners! Feldon hoped he wasn’t shaking.

[Fearan]

Rider

Rider plunged his geart anchor into the shed's floor, looking at the barriers, that descended to contain him. He grinned savagely, in a mix of contempt and mockery, which became even more distinct, when Feldon stated his demands. - Englishman - the Servant roared as his Master introduce himself. - Pompous, self-assured, self-proclaimed "noble" englishman. Hate those. - he spit on the floor and continued. - Listen and listen well. I am Captain Van Der Decken, and my loyalty is for myself and the Staten-Generaal of the Republic, even if it's full of douchebags. I will not pledge myself to any "noble" mageling, just because he has fancy tatoo on his hand. I'll work with you, though - mah ship's gone battered and I need re-supply. Be my temporary Quartermeister, supply me with prana and I'll get the Fancy Cup for you, if that's what you desire. I'll even skip the "quarter" and call you "Master" - big deal. Agreed?

[MrBudquaza]

Saber

Come to me.
Come to me.
Come to me.

The words rattled in his head like an incessant bell. They were the only thing he could comprehend, and after so long waiting in the dreary blank space, waiting to be summoned out of his death, in a way they were welcome. Annoying, but the only variety in a thousand years, so it was somehow pleasant. Slowly every other sense came to him as he got a feel for his surroundings. He could hear water sloshing, and wood creaking. He could smell hints of mold emanating from the floorboards, He could taste the humid air and salt. Then he could feel, it was brisk, as if he was getting out of a body of water on a windy day. Then finally sight. It was only when his body had been completely formed from the smoke, his head taking shape last, that Saber was able to open his eye and truly perceive his environment. The living quarters were quaint with small flowers strewn about, and (as always on a boat), no wasted space. This was good fortune Saber thought, I like boats. Next of course came buisness. While it would be nice to spend this time he was given relaxing and getting acquainted with the new customs of the world, he was summoned for a reason, a singular reason, the holy grail war. He scanned the room, and saw not far from him an old lady, a lady who on any other day might have seemed innocuous, but this was no ordinary day, and immediately he knew she was to be his caretaker in this world. Removing his large helmet and and unbuckling his sheaths from his sides, Saber knelt to face this woman who he towered over when standing tall. Bowing his head, Saber waited for her response.

[Implodio]

Yamahata Suzu

She peered at him with bright eyes, wide with amazement though hooded with age. The hand holding her cane quivered for an excitable moment before she rapped it on the deck twice, as if to fortify herself. A long silence passed between them, and then a breathy, puffing laughter came from her throat; a genuinely joyful sound, and not one birthed from the dark heart of vengeance in her chest, but the simple delight of an old woman encountering an exciting guest. Her words, cracked a little with age, were perhaps a unique opening gambit in the history of the grail wars.

You must be absolutely famished.

She looked him over; the sheathes, the height, the noble posture, the single eye, the whole of him; the united magnificence of his full person. And then, by the instinct (and subversion of etiquette) possessed most strongly by grandmothers, she turned ninety degrees and trotted off into the houseboat's kitchen, nattering all the way.

You've come a long way, I know. I know something about long journeys, and long waits. Do you eat meat? Of course you do. Such a strong young man. You go ahead and sit wherever you like, dear. There is so much to say, and so much to do, and so little time...

The sound of meat sizzling came through the little doorway; the pleasant scent of spiced meat charring appropriately over a hot grill.

[FriendlyLich]

Cedric

The rear of the estate had a large section of open ground, screened by trees from the nearby road.
It was here that Cedric would perform his summoning.

Normally he preferred the conveniences of modern magery. A circle of solder on circuit-board in an air-conditioned room would work just as well but for something like this...

Something bearing this weight, this import demanded a certain amount of ceremony. A certain amount of tradition.

And so, the circle, triple drawn. Surrounded by the four cardinals, sword and staff and cup and gem.
Cedric checked the relic one last time, running his hand over the smooth stone blade before laying it down in the circles centre.

He moved outside the circle, careful not to disturb it, and began.
The circle glowed, the braziers flames took on a greenish hue and the mana swirled and condensed in the circles heart.

“I call you into the world, spear-man in green, Lancer!”

[MrBudquaza]

Feldon Errol

Feldon dropped his hand, and with it the barrier. He was scared, and while he tried to maintain his composure, he knew that any semblance he’d had of authority as the master was now in tatters. It seems you’re not one for formalities, and quite frankly, neither am I. I’ll drop them until the time we seize the grail. I’m Feldon, a mage from, yes, England, and while I am of noble birth, I can assure you that I’m a whole lot less stuck up than my forefathers that you had to deal with. I specialize in barrier and rune magic, so I’d like to play on the defensive, but you are Rider, so I take it we won’t be playing so far back. Not to worry though, I’ve got a few offensive tricks up my sleeve and I’m more than competent in hand to hand. I suppose this is the time for questions though? Feldon looked around the wreckage of his room, hoping to find a chair big enough to fit the colossus before him. His eyes settled on a leather sofa that had been blown over, and pushed against the wall. Groaning, he put the sofa on its legs, and dragged it to the suspended chair he had been sitting in, now softly swinging. Feldon did not sit though; He couldn’t show anymore disrespect to Rider, a captain of a ship was used to being at the top, and he couldn’t afford to worsen this partnership. Sit, if you’d like.Would you like anything? Food, wine, I’m afraid women cannot be arranged. Rider… Feldon was somewhat in awe. He was scared, but somehow inspired. Before him was a legend, someone who made such a dent in history that they will be forever remembered and glorified--A literal living legend. I have so many questions: What is your mount? How do you fight? What do you think our first move should be? Feldon could only hope Rider would answer half of them.

[chainer1216]

(OOC: I apologize for not being able to do text stuff, I'm stuck on my phone for the time being)

Ulysses closed his eyes as he bowed, letting the applause of the crowd sink in, it had been a long time since he had to put on a show without magecraft, it was good to know he still could. As the curten fell his crew was already cleaning up the stage, he had made arrangements for them all to be on a plane back to the good Oil' U.S of A tonight, so there was no time to mess around.

After he was done with his part he went back to his room to prepare for the real reason he was in japan, the grail. He had been preparing for this for years, and tonight was the night, and he was ready...probably.

Once he was sure everyone in the building had left he went back to the stage and surveyed the now empty area. It was perfect for his needs, old theaters like this had a magic about them, human emotion has power, and places like this, where audiences have laughed and cried and cheered were like lay lines, though much weaker, and that perceived weakness is why those snobs at the Mages Association ignore places like this, just another reason its perfect.

At the center of the stage Ulysses gets to work drawing the summoning circle, by the time he's finished its almost the witching hour, which is exactly as planned, its when his manas at its peak. He starts the chant he memorized, repeating it, putting everything he has into it, putting everything this theater has into it, the circle beings to glow and hum with all the mana poured into it and just as he finished the chant he can feel the air around him violently shift to accommodate the being before him.

[chainer1216]

“I call you into the world, spear-man in green, Lancer!”

The area is rocked by a blast as if a massive thunderbolt had struck the circle, the force of it throws up dirt and disturbes the leafs in the trees. As the smoke and debris clears a man can be seen in the middle of the the circle. The figure, towering over the mage, wears a green robe over his breast plate and wears a tiger pelt as a belt, his only other armor is a pair of vambraces and greaves. In his right hand he carries no spear, but a Guan Duo, a weapon not unlike a glaive or naginata, its haft is covered in green scales like a serpent, and the blood red blade looks like fire coming from a dragons mouth. But oddly enough his most defining feature would have to be his magnificent beard, which is as long as his torso and well groomed.

For a long moment the Servant stood there, towering over his new master, looking at him as if he was staring at his soul.

"I am Guan Yu, Tiger General of Shu and the greatest hero of China! Who are you to have summoned me?"

[FriendlyLich]

Caster

With a swirl of blue light A figure coalesced in the circle.

There was no crack of thunder, no explosion or other event.
One moment the Runic Circle was empty, the next, occupied.

The man stepped forwards, one hand patting himself as if to check he was whole.

"Well then. Here I am."
He looked about, taking in the furnishings of the room.

"No no no, this will not do. We need more than this you know, mana is lifesblood to this endeavour and we of all players need it the most."

His gaze snapped back to the young man who was the rooms only other occupant.

“But where are my manners, you would be my summoner, my master for this period and I am..”
He looks down at his hand examining it as he flexes it experimentally.
“Oh yes, I am delighted to be Caster”

One hand reached up to run through his short beard while the other searched through the pockets on his coat. Pausing he walked out of the circle and examined himself in a mirror.

“Yeeesssssssssssss, good, good, everything in order I suppose; NOW!”
He spun on the spot extending a pointing finger at the young mage.
“There are two things I would like, nay! I must insist upon.”

“The first is a demonstration of your abilities, oh yes, I simply must know what manner of magus my master is.”
He grinned, pale blue eyes lighting up with amusement.
“And the second is a map, preparation is key, for us more than any,”

“This,” he said, waving one hand, “Is all very well for daily living I suppose; But a Sactum Sanctorum requires far more.”

[Implodio]

He starts the chant he memorized, repeating it, putting everything he has into it, putting everything this theater has into it, the circle beings to glow and hum with all the mana poured into it and just as he finished the chant he can feel the air around him violently shift to accommodate the being before him.

Spoiler: The Summoning of Berserker

Show

The floor of the stage shudded, groaned as the boards flexed, and for a moment seems as though it would convulse so violently it would break itself and ruin the summoning. Then stillness, and a moment's quiet. Stir of the old, velvety stage curtains. The smell of wood smoke. Of grain. Of meat seared, then cooked, then burned all up. The inky darkness that welled up from the rune seemed queerly heavy; bobbing and curdling in a flat disk; vomiting its excess of itself over the fringe of the circle in coils of black ash.

Then the screams.

The screams of men. First one, then another began as the last ended. Another. Another. Each divided from the other with a building, relentless beat. Bang. Bang. Bang. A drum of war; superimposed over the sound of something blunt and heavy striking flesh, breaking bone, crushing organs. Bang. Bang. Bang. The burning smell intensified. Not just meat burning; but flesh... unmistakably, burning flesh, and hair, and the repulsive, fragrant plumes of smoke from someone's body burning alive. Now the FIRE surges up; no specter of itself but huge, and hot, and rushing out of the rune like a devil's hand lashing vainly toward heaven, blackening rafters and igniting curtains. The drum beats faster, the a thousand men's screams overlap and jumble, aurally nailed together with the BANG BANG BANG of raw human violence. The fire, the shaking, the screams of an army being broken man by man; the awful, musical wail of a woman burning, and behind her voice an indecipherable whisper... Out of the... BANG BANG BANG ...out of the... BANG BANG BANG a bloodfreezing howl of naked rage and shame and regret and murderous misery and all the dark creatures that lurk in human hearts BANG BANG BANG ...out of the... BANG BANG BANG the jingle of chains twisted and broken hanging from the iron bracers at the wrists of huge hands that slammed on to the stage and pulled BANG BANG ...out of... BANG out of the rune like a hole into hell and then BANG a roar like a BANG lion's own nightmare out of the BANG ...out of the... BANG out of the throat of the emergent titan BANG

...out of the eater comes something sweet...

He came into the world as he last left it; with a monsterous shout that would echo into the night for miles, and wild instinctive destruction. There was just enough time for the magician-magus to make good on his instinct to step back; Berserker's chains slashed through the wood of the mutilated stage as surely as the great fists smashed it to flinders, collapsing it beneath him into a heap of broken shards and ash and the remnants of a successful summoning. Eight feet of superhuman power, bronzed Mediterranean muscle twitching in his arms and shoulders like confined animals kicking against their torment. The red shine of madness cut from his eyes through the smoke and seemed to pass over the magus entirely at first; a thankful exclusion, while this terrible violence was visited on the theatre's stage. But surely as the storm passes, surely as the fire cools to embers, so too Berserker eased to something close to peace.

The sprinklers, as if loath to interrupt the fiery entrance as it happened, kicked in now to extinguish the burning curtains; exchanging smoke for steam, but washing away some of the interfering cloud to offer some clarity of view. The giant wore a shredded remains of a robe of tan linen, and a rough leather girdle about his waist. Great black braids swept back from his scalp in clusters, hanging past his knees and swaying with even the subtle movement of his heaved, seething breath.

Slowly he raised a hand, uncurling the first with spasming effort, and extended index and middle finger in a forced gesture of the most primal indication, pointing at Ulysses and staring down his arm with the same hard killer's eyes one expected to see at the other end of a set of iron sights. His voice was like sliding marble; like the door to a tomb, unhappily forced open.

"Who...?"

[Fearan]

Rider:
- Hm - Rider grinned after the mage's tirade. - No wenches. What a hellhole of a port, this Fuyuki is. - he sat on the offered sofa, still looking menacing, but somewhat tempered now - it seemed, Rider have grudgily accepted his new position as a weapon in the Grail war. And, perhaps, he accepted Feldon too. - As it stands - ask yourself this - do we have some time before the fighting starts? If yes - arrange a steady supply of rum. If not - don't bother. I doubt, we'll find good rum here anyway. - he paused awaiting a new wave of questions and explanations. - Barriers, huh - the man answered once his partner described his abilities - - You don't look so tough, so that's good - you'll need them. Now, as for me - we'd better get to the water and get mah ship and mah crew here very fast. With that done - I doubt we'll need that much figthing, but still - I can hit'em with mah anchor. An then we look ant you - if'you'll have spare prana - get those runes on mah men - wouldnt hurt, ya'know. Bildgerats - he grinned, showing utter confidence in himself and a bit of contempt for the lesser men in his service

Yukito
Yukito observed his new partner with a curious smile - after all, you don't get to suumon a legend every day. "- Well, well - " he commented with a note of playfulness in his tone - "- I wonder, where did I sign up for a hard mode run? Greetings, Caster. I am Aomori Yukito - your glorified prana battery. Welcome to the real world. The map is on the desk, along with my comments for the prominent locations - oh, there would be no excuse for not visiting the Kopenhagen bar - except for the war, of course. As for the demonstration - you' being a magus of your caliber have probably noticed the barriers on this place. But still, I will abide with your request"- he paused, and then started making mudra gestures, with speed and precision, showing up years of training. - Rin, Pyôh, Tôh, Shā, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen - he had cast The Edict of Binding, a spell to restrain a spirit - for which, incidentally, a Servant was a valid target.

[MrBudquaza]

Saber

As the lady hobbled off into the kitchen Saber got to his his feet, the floorboards of the cozy dwelling creaking beneath him. Slowly, deliberately, he made his way into the next room taking in his surroundings, appraising every aspect of the boat. Having to duck through the doorway, the height was ideally suited for his new master, but far too short for the tall and proud Saber. I must say I didn’t expect your reaction, His tone was polite yet slightly comical. I thought there would be a flurry of questions, or perhaps orders. You are correct though, I haven’t eaten in a few hundred years, and the hunger eats away at me. Approaching the old lady from behind, he waited until she had turned to face him. I believe introductions are in order. My name is Date Masamune “The One Eyed Dragon”, and I shall win you you the Holy Grail.


Feldon

Feldon began to relax, the initial anxiety of meeting his belligerent servant settled down, and his mind got to work thinking about all possibilities this servant opened up. As chance would have it, I bought a small warehouse near the docks, primarily for the purpose of having a fully stocked safe house incase the worst happened, but perhaps that would be better suited to being our primary residence? As to when the fights start, that can be whenever you’re ready, I expect all the other servants are being summoned at about this time, but I’m sure I can get a cask of rum in under three days. Regarding the waterfront, I suggest we go now. I have a car out front, and It’s still early enough to avoid rush hour, besides, no one would attack us so early on in broad daylight. What say you?

[Implodio]

Yamahata Suzu

When she spun around to face him, she held a plate in her hand; heaped with quietly sizzling bulgogi shredded beef, rice balls, and an array of pleasant edibles entirely inconsistent with the half a minute or so she had apparently spent cooking. She smiled up at him and advanced with grandmotherly insistence, lifting the plate towards him with hands that trembled a little more the further her arms extended, compelling him to (presumably) take it or risk her dropping it and embarrassing both of them.

"Oh, I'd thought it was you, Date-sama. I'd wager any boy or girl who payed attention in ancient history would recognize the Dragon of Sendai. And I've questions - I imagine you do too. But I'm in no hurry, and you shouldn't be either. We've both been waiting for this a long time, I think. So we'll eat, and we'll talk, and then..." She gave a reedy little grunt as she shuffled back into a worn, peeling synthetic leather chair and laid her cane across her lap. "...Then we'll go and pick a fight. I imagine the soft options, Archer and Assassin and Caster, are all burrowing into the landscape like grubby little ticks, and setting up their bounded fields. But I expect we can pick a bombastic Rider, or Lancer, or Berserker our of the wood with a little flash. Just long enough for a little back and forth to see what we're up against, and if we can make a friend, hmm..?"

She reached toward the beef with trembling chopsticks, and managed to secure a shred with practice substituting for long lost dexterity. Then she looked up quickly, as if remembering only then that there had been half an introduction offered. "My name is Yamahata Suzu. Last of the Yamahata magi. I will never have another opportunity for vengeance on those who have wronged me; either through the grail or any other mechanism. So I am honored, Saber, that you would answer my call. I know you respect vengeance, but act with honor; and I suspect we will get along just fine."

Another squinty, grandmotherly smile; a little sauce on her lip, licked away with self-approving delight at the meal. She wiggled her eyebrows at him with playful cheer. "I presume you haven't forgotten how to pick a fight, with all that time you've had off."

[chainer1216]

Spoiler: The Summoning of Berserker

Show

The floor of the stage shudded, groaned as the boards flexed, and for a moment seems as though it would convulse so violently it would break itself and ruin the summoning. Then stillness, and a moment's quiet. Stir of the old, velvety stage curtains. The smell of wood smoke. Of grain. Of meat seared, then cooked, then burned all up. The inky darkness that welled up from the rune seemed queerly heavy; bobbing and curdling in a flat disk; vomiting its excess of itself over the fringe of the circle in coils of black ash.

Then the screams.

The screams of men. First one, then another began as the last ended. Another. Another. Each divided from the other with a building, relentless beat. Bang. Bang. Bang. A drum of war; superimposed over the sound of something blunt and heavy striking flesh, breaking bone, crushing organs. Bang. Bang. Bang. The burning smell intensified. Not just meat burning; but flesh... unmistakably, burning flesh, and hair, and the repulsive, fragrant plumes of smoke from someone's body burning alive. Now the FIRE surges up; no specter of itself but huge, and hot, and rushing out of the rune like a devil's hand lashing vainly toward heaven, blackening rafters and igniting curtains. The drum beats faster, the a thousand men's screams overlap and jumble, aurally nailed together with the BANG BANG BANG of raw human violence. The fire, the shaking, the screams of an army being broken man by man; the awful, musical wail of a woman burning, and behind her voice an indecipherable whisper... Out of the... BANG BANG BANG ...out of the... BANG BANG BANG a bloodfreezing howl of naked rage and shame and regret and murderous misery and all the dark creatures that lurk in human hearts BANG BANG BANG ...out of the... BANG BANG BANG the jingle of chains twisted and broken hanging from the iron bracers at the wrists of huge hands that slammed on to the stage and pulled BANG BANG ...out of... BANG out of the rune like a hole into hell and then BANG a roar like a BANG lion's own nightmare out of the BANG ...out of the... BANG out of the throat of the emergent titan BANG

...out of the eater comes something sweet...

He came into the world as he last left it; with a monsterous shout that would echo into the night for miles, and wild instinctive destruction. There was just enough time for the magician-magus to make good on his instinct to step back; Berserker's chains slashed through the wood of the mutilated stage as surely as the great fists smashed it to flinders, collapsing it beneath him into a heap of broken shards and ash and the remnants of a successful summoning. Eight feet of superhuman power, bronzed Mediterranean muscle twitching in his arms and shoulders like confined animals kicking against their torment. The red shine of madness cut from his eyes through the smoke and seemed to pass over the magus entirely at first; a thankful exclusion, while this terrible violence was visited on the theatre's stage. But surely as the storm passes, surely as the fire cools to embers, so too Berserker eased to something close to peace.

The sprinklers, as if loath to interrupt the fiery entrance as it happened, kicked in now to extinguish the burning curtains; exchanging smoke for steam, but washing away some of the interfering cloud to offer some clarity of view. The giant wore a shredded remains of a robe of tan linen, and a rough leather girdle about his waist. Great black braids swept back from his scalp in clusters, hanging past his knees and swaying with even the subtle movement of his heaved, seething breath.

Slowly he raised a hand, uncurling the first with spasming effort, and extended index and middle finger in a forced gesture of the most primal indication, pointing at Ulysses and staring down his arm with the same hard killer's eyes one expected to see at the other end of a set of iron sights. His voice was like sliding marble; like the door to a tomb, unhappily forced open.

"Who...?"

Fear.

For a moment all he felt was true, primal fear. It was as if his childhood nightmares had come to life. For a brief moment Ulysses though he had somehow summoned the souls of those burnt at the stake because of his family.

By the time the servant started taking a physical form he was able to compose himself, he had a mission and would NOT be cowed by a grandiose familiar.

his thoughts began to race "why did it have to be berserker?/this poor theater!/of course it was berserker, that's what you get for using latent magic formed from emotions/there will be firefighters here soon/why couldn't it have been archer or assassin, no one even wants those classes/oh****chain!

Jumping back Ulysses avoids the twisted metal as it scythes through the ground where he just stood. his mind stunned into silence he watched as his servants hulking form became clear, it lifts its giant arm, points at him, and grunts its single syllable question.

Taking a short moment to gather himself, then takes a defiant step forward and rips off the glove on his right hand revealing his command seals and in the most commanding voice he can muster:

"My name is Ulysses Bradbury, descendant of the Witch of Salem, and 5th head of my family! I have summoned you into this world to slaughter my enemies, right the wrongs done to my family and win the Grail!"

[Implodio]

Spoiler: Fear.

Show

Fear.

For a moment all he felt was true, primal fear. It was as if his childhood nightmares had come to life. For a brief moment Ulysses though he had somehow summoned the souls of those burnt at the stake because of his family.

By the time the servant started taking a physical form he was able to compose himself, he had a mission and would NOT be cowed by a grandiose familiar.

his thoughts began to race "why did it have to be berserker?/this poor theater!/of course it was berserker, that's what you get for using latent magic formed from emotions/there will be firefighters here soon/why couldn't it have been archer or assassin, no one even wants those classes/oh****chain!

Jumping back Ulysses avoids the twisted metal as it scythes through the ground where he just stood. his mind stunned into silence he watched as his servants hulking form became clear, it lifts its giant arm, points at him, and grunts its single syllable question.

Taking a short moment to gather himself, then takes a defiant step forward and rips off the glove on his right hand revealing his command seals and in the most commanding voice he can muster:

"My name is Ulysses Bradbury, descendant of the Witch of Salem, and 5th head of my family! I have summoned you into this world to slaughter my enemies, right the wrongs done to my family and win the Grail!"

The giant shuffled forward, sandaled feet dragging huge furrows through the ash as if he fought himself, restraining is steps, so not to run or charge. The sprinklers pattered away, dusting his skin with moisture that ran in glimmering rivulets down the corridors of his muscles, down the grand black banded braids, and down the hard set features of a face locked in that false-neutral rictus that is found in men when a true emotion is brought desperately to heel.

He knelt before the Magus. This was not implicitly a sign of deference; the movement merely brought his eyes in line with the displayed command seals, and the countenance of his resolved American summoner who chose, admirably enough, not to flee or reel away. By the time they were facially in line, the hot red madness in the giant's eyes wisped away entirely. Whatever wild demon the grail invested into its Berserkers was gone, for now; willed away, or made to rest. Human eyes, brown and authentically curious, narrowed to read Ulysses's features with the penetrating expression of a man who fancies himself, right or wrong, a scrutineer of men and their hearts.

"What do you, O Man, know of what is right? By what measure do you say, 'this is wrong done to me, and I will have bloody restitution'? Shall I take your word, O Man, that your pursuit is righteous, and plunge these hands..." He held up his hands demonstratively, open and fingers flexing as if expecting something to be put in them; dinner plate sized grips dark with callouses, easilly imagined to contain a man's head. The unbidden, perverse image of a squeezed fruit rind may be forgivably conjured to mind. "...Into your work?"

[chainer1216]

Spoiler

Show

The giant shuffled forward, sandaled feet dragging huge furrows through the ash as if he fought himself, restraining is steps, so not to run or charge. The sprinklers pattered away, dusting his skin with moisture that ran in glimmering rivulets down the corridors of his muscles, down the grand black banded braids, and down the hard set features of a face locked in that false-neutral rictus that is found in men when a true emotion is brought desperately to heel.

He knelt before the Magus. This was not implicitly a sign of deference; the movement merely brought his eyes in line with the displayed command seals, and the countenance of his resolved American summoner who chose, admirably enough, not to flee or reel away. By the time they were facially in line, the hot red madness in the giant's eyes wisped away entirely. Whatever wild demon the grail invested into its Berserkers was gone, for now; willed away, or made to rest. Human eyes, brown and authentically curious, narrowed to read Ulysses's features with the penetrating expression of a man who fancies himself, right or wrong, a scrutineer of men and their hearts.

"What do you, O Man, know of what is right? By what measure do you say, 'this is wrong done to me, and I will have bloody restitution'? Shall I take your word, O Man, that your pursuit is righteous, and plunge these hands..." He held up his hands demonstratively, open and fingers flexing as if expecting something to be put in them; dinner plate sized grips dark with callouses, easilly imagined to contain a man's head. The unbidden, perverse image of a squeezed fruit rind may be forgivably conjured to mind. "...Into your work?"

After the madness leaves the giants eyes Ulysses lowers his hand and visibly relaxes.

"I don't want the death of children or the end of families, my enemies are simply the opposing servants and, if they refuse to relent, their masters.

As for what's right and what's wrong... my family is as old as the Einzbern or the Tohsaka, we should be just as respected! But we opposed allying with the Church, and were forced out of England to the Americas. And then the church sent agents to expose my family's use of mage craft to the zealots that lived there, dozens of innocent people were burned at the stake as witches. My familys line almost ended there but my ancestor was able to escape from her imprisonment, but we lost everything, including my family's original crest.

In order to rebuild we needed resources and to do that they had to lower themselves even further, they traveled the Americas in carnivals, Circus acts and rodeos, working as snake oils salesmen or as oddities in freak shows! We have been the laughingstock of the mage world for over THREE HUNDRED YEARS!

My simple wish if for that to end, for my family to once again be respected by our peers. The only way that's going to happen is if we win this war together"

[Implodio]

Berserker's head tilts slightly. There is some detectable response to the tale of mockery and exile; but it is the burning that seems to get through to him. A flash lights up those brown eyes, kindles the madness there, but settles before a return to its full grip.

"You have summoned me, O Man; and I am bidden by the laws of the Grail to work with you. It is good, if your cause is good; for I am a terror to the wicked; and a shield to the righteous. Therefore turn me on the wicked, and I will judge them. Turn me against the righteous, however..." The eyes flashed with threat, and glanced to the command seals that confined his fate. "...And we will have discomfort between us. Therefor according to these principles, and your word, I am Servant. And you are Master."

One huge hand extended, dragging its twisted chain across the floor as it did, and opened as if expecting - daring? - a shake.

[chainer1216]

Spoiler

Show

Berserker's head tilts slightly. There is some detectable response to the tale of mockery and exile; but it is the burning that seems to get through to him. A flash lights up those brown eyes, kindles the madness there, but settles before a return to its full grip.

"You have summoned me, O Man; and I am bidden by the laws of the Grail to work with you. It is good, if your cause is good; for I am a terror to the wicked; and a shield to the righteous. Therefore turn me on the wicked, and I will judge them. Turn me against the righteous, however..." The eyes flashed with threat, and glanced to the command seals that confined his fate. "...And we will have discomfort between us. Therefor according to these principles, and your word, I am Servant. And you are Master."

One huge hand extended, dragging its twisted chain across the floor as it did, and opened as if expecting - daring? - a shake.

Ulysses puts his hand in Berserkers to seal their deal, he's struck by just how much he looks like a child compared to his servant, and just how obviously easy it would be for this giant to accidentally crush his hand, but he stifles that thought.

"If those are your terms then there's no reason for us to be uneasy partners.

As curious as I am about who you are, it has to wait, we need to get on the move. I had arranged to keep this theater empty for a while but I hadn't expected your summoning to be so...impactful. police and firefighters will be here soon, while could cover up the damage I can't do anything about the smoke or ash, so we're gonna get out of here and lay low for a day or so."

He turns to head back stage takes a few steps and the stood and turns again.

"That is, unless you would prefer to use that time to pick a fight."

[MrBudquaza]

Saber

No... Taking a seat across from Suzu, Saber chuckled, his eye glazing over, focused on some point beyond her as if remembering some hard fought skirmish from ages past. I’ve been on the battlefield since 17, and I expect you’ll find it evident. And yes, vengeance is nothing new to me. Regaining his senses, he leaned forward and made eye contact with Suzu, the fog there only moments ago, replaced by a sharp calculating glaze. Tell me about Fuyuki. Are there any landmarks we should contest? Points of interest? If we wish to pick a fight, where would be best? Who are we up against, and how are we to be up against. Put another way, I can fight any servant, but my skills are useless if I must devote myself to keeping you out of harm’s way. How are you to protect yourself or fight? Seeming to relax, this time for good, Saber reached for the extra pair of chopsticks Suzu had places down for him. Leaning back and smiling, he turned his attention to the food. As you said though, there is time, so let us feast. He said between bites. But you, you are an enigma to me, and while I swear to follow you as servant, I itch to know. What does my comrade fights for?

[Implodio]

Berserker

The giant stood up to his true height, and swept his gaze around the punished room and ruined stage. He frowned a little, and clasped his hands together before him; fingers threading hand to hand as if each fist submitted to the restraint of the other.

"I... am sorry. Destruction is my gift, and often my task; but not at all my fancy. I am not eager to leap into a fight. If you have a place of retreat in mind, I will follow."

Yamahata Suzu

"Places to contest? Oh, I wouldn't know. I've never been here before!" She tittered a laugh, and presumed to pour a cup of tea for each of them; some English blend and served in the English fashion: casually, and with the ceremony waived by all parties. "Ah, but I do know a thing or two. The river Mion is the major landmark; and Fuyuki is the sum of the towns on either side. Shinto, the new, upscale town; and Miyama, with its more..." She cheerfully wiggled the fingers of one hand, meaninglessly. "...traditional charm. The bridge is where I expect a few of the skirmishes will take place. Many of the scions of the big magus bloodlines go by Homurahara Academy in Miyama. And toward the edge of Miyama, the Ryuudou temple has quite a pranic confluence, if someone is looking for a place to bunker down and build up their well. Much of this war we'll have to figure out as we go along. Learn who we're facing, Masters and Servants."

Another pleasant, wrinkly smile.

"As far as protecting myself or fighting... Well, I expect you'll be doing most of the offense, but I've been hunted most of my life, Sabre. I know a few tricks that keep me ahead of the edge. You'll see, when we go to pick a fight on the bridge.

[FriendlyLich]

Cedric.


"I am Cedric, Fifth Magus of the house of Willow Leaves.”
He gave a bow to the spear wielding spirit.
“I have called you to this time and place to be my champion in this conflict. The war for the grail.”

He gestures to the manor behind him.
“Please, Yunchang, follow me. I know that spirits have little need for food but I have prepared some refreshments if you would care to partake.”

At a gesture the manor doors swing wide open as Cedric walked up the short path towards them.
“We have much to discuss and should do so indoors. Although I would fancy myself somewhat of a strategist my grounding is in the conflicts between mages, not in the more physical confrontations between servants."

[MrBudquaza]

Saber

Saber was quickly growing to like his new accomplice, though he was unsure if she was worthy of his trust as of yet. She had evaded his primary question, he still had no clue as to why she fights, and it seemed there was a dark history that was to remain covered for the time being. While at face value she seemed harmless, there was an air of confidence encompassing her, a self assurance that made her certain that no matter what she would emerge from this war unscathed. In a way, Suzu reminded Saber of himself, inscrutable, yet outspoken, keeping her cards to her chest and waiting to take advantage of any missteps someone unfortunate enough to be her enemy might make.

Finishing the scraps remaining on his plate, Saber graciously thanked his master for the meal and stood. Benevolence indulged beyond measure sinks into weakness! I’ve been off the battlefield for too long, and I ache for the rush of a fight. Saber retrieved his swords and armor, vanishing his helmet into thin air with a puff of blue mana left behind. Allow me to take this vessel to the bridge where we shall plant our flag!

[Implodio]

Yamahata Suzu

She offered another pleasant, wrinkly smile, and raises her walking stick into the air as if lifting a sword.

"Alright, Saber. You've talked me into it. To the bridge!"

[Fearan]

Rider

- Yes! - the giant of a man nodded. We have to go towards the water immideately - I've mostly forgotten how to fight on dirt anyway. Lead the way - the Servant astralized, leaving behind only the smell of salt and storm and a trashed shed.

[FriendlyLich]

Caster

Caster smiled as the binding took effect.
“Decent speed, little mana loss.”
A hard white glow coalesced about his form restricting him to only the smallest movements.

One finger traced a circle in the air, a blue line following the finger tip. From the completed circle sprung a complex spiroglyph that lasted for a mere second. The Binding effects shattered, the glow around Caster fragmenting and dissolving into motes of light.

“Well you have talent, which is always a good start. I'll have you up to speed in no time. Now, about this map.”
So saying he strode towards the desk.

“Also you have humility, a trait of a great mage.”
He paused then, mid stride.
“Of course a Fantastic mage can afford some ego.”

Reaching the desk he examined the map.
“No, no, too obvious, too small, too much forest, too remote, Aha!”

He turned, smiling, to Yukito.
“I have found the perfect location to set up, let us move quickly to secure it for our use.”
He folded the map up and tucked it under his arm before heading to the door.

Again he stopped abruptly and looked down.
“Ah, it may be best if I acquired some modern clothing, a low profile would be our best general approach at this stage yes?”

[MrBudquaza]

Feldon

The weather that day was to Feldon’s tastes, slightly overcast with a slight breeze, cool but not cold. It reminded him of damp pasture land the manor he grew up on was in, and he felt at peace in this climate. The morning sun peaked through the clouds at irregular intervals putting a harsh glare on the windshield of Feldon’s car. After crossing the bridge, Feldon took a sharp right turn, getting on the industrial roads usually used by Fuyuki dock workers. He continued on that path for a few minutes until pulling up to an inconspicuous warehouse. It was smaller than the others around it and also seemed less secure, having not so much as a padlock around the door. Of course, what it lacked in physical security, it made up for in magic ones. Small runes were drawn onto every wall of the building, designed to make all, servants and masters alike, glaze over it, as if it were not even there. The door was unlocked, but the handle was also painted in runes, designed to explode outward (leaving the door intact) if it was grasped by anything that did not emit Feldon’s mana. Inside the warehouse it was extravagant, though not to the degree of his suburban bungalow. There were nice carpets on the floor, and every crevice was clean. A bed was set up in the corner, and several large cabinets held all manner of things, from simple clothes to magical devices. Briskly walking through the one roomed building, Feldon found his way to a back door, and passed through, finding himself just a few feet from the waterfront. A small motorboat was tied up to a post, and Feldon laughed, realizing he would likely have no need for it. This shall do right? I doubt I can conceal your boat with runes, but I’ve tried to make this place as hidden from prying eyes as I can. Anyway, I’m anxious to see this ship of yours.