Fate/Infinite - Game Thread

[Pappytech]

"Ah, glad to see that you could make it. Please, come in, come in."

The man offers a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, before turning about and slowly making his way up the aisle. He continues to speak as he walks along, his deep voice echoing around the confines of the chamber. "Welcome to the Fuyuki City church. My name is Matthias Meminger, though you may call me Father Meminger if you so desire, and I will be serving as your moderator in this, the Sixth Holy Grail war."

As he reaches the alter, the priest stops and turns again, raising an eyebrow as he he glances back the way he came. "Staying in the shadows, are we?"

His lips part in a sneer, and a few chuckles escape his lips. "Heh. A wise decision."

The few seconds of silence that follows provides a good opportunity to examine both your surroundings and your host. Though the lighting could stand to be improved, it is quite possible to make out the interior of the small cathedral: rows of pews fill the majority of the floor space, carved from dark-brown, almost black wood and lined with crimson cushions. A few bookshelves, tucked away in the back, are stuffed full of Bibles, hymnals, and other such literature. Large, ornate windows line the walls, allowing the silver light of a crescent moon to pour into the chapel. The moonlight blends with the flames of a half-dozen candelabra stationed throughout the church, creating a soft glow that is neither cold nor warm. All in all, it's a rather austere location; it's clear that the chapel was built with utility in mind, not luxury.

Father Meminger seems to carry himself with a similar, if not identical, mindset. His black clothes and white collar are simple, and his neck and fingers are bare of any jewelry. His short, amber colored hair is "styled" into a crew cut, with only the barest hints of a 5 o'clock shadow marring his cheeks and chin. Standing at just under 6 and half feet, the man is clearly in prime physical condition, his muscles and stiff posture hinting at some form of military service.

Though his fair skin and Western accent label him as a foreigner, his Japanese is flawless.

"Now," he continues, his mouth once more set into a hard line, "I know that you're undoubtedly familiar with the Holy Grail War, but due to some... irregularities with the last couple occurrences, the Church has asked me to remind all of the Masters of the rules that they must abide by, should they wish to win the Grail for themselves."

"First and foremost," he begins, holding up a single finger, "the Masquerade is to be maintained at any and all costs. You are permitted to fight only at night, and only in isolated areas. If anyone stumbles onto your battles, you are to... deal with them immediately. Breaking either of these rules is tantamount to rebelling against both the Church and the Mage's Association."

"Second." Another finger joins the first. "As you should already know, the Grail is not a physical object, but a spiritual one. It will only manifest if enough Servants are vanquished, and can only be touched by a Servant. You, as a Master, will be unable to handle it without your Servant to aid you. In other words, your goal is to eliminate opposing Servants while keeping your own safe."

"Third. I trust that you're well aware of the power of your Command Spells. Boosting your Servants strength momentarily, transporting them across vast distances in an instant, forcing them to do something against their will, they are truly useful tools. And, of course, they are also quite limited. I would advise that you keep from wasting them."

"Fourth. As your moderator, I will be serving as both a judge and information source over these next few days. If you have questions or believe that one of your opponents is violating the rules of the War, come to me. If your Servant has been vanquished and you fear for your life, come to me and I can offer you sanctuary."

"Now, are there any questions?"

After a few seconds of silence, Meminger begins walking back up the aisle, pulling a file out of some unseen pocket. "I imagine that you're not particularly familiar with Fuyuki City outside of whatever hotel, house, or alleyway you're sleeping in. So, I've taken the liberty of compiling some basic information for you. It's nothing much, but it ought to help you get around the city. A few places to recover and relax during the day, some deserted spots to hang around at night, stuff of that variety."

Having passed off the file, the priest begins to walk away, his final words echoing around the interior of the church. "Well, that's all from me. Go back to wherever you're staying and make your plans. I wish you luck over these next few days. Remember, the Holy Grail has chosen you for a reason; show it exactly what you and your Servant are capable of."

"Oh, and one last thing. It may not be much, but I happen to like this little spot. If you try and bring any of your conflicts here, I will take it upon myself to end them."

"Now, I'd advise that you go get one last night of good sleep. Odds are you're going to need it."

[hr]

Spoiler: Important Locations around Fuyuki City

The city is split into two districts by the Miongawa River, Shinto and Miyama (the new and old sections, respectively). Miyama is further split into two parts - the traditional Japanese houses district and the foreigners' houses district.

Spoiler: During the Day

Miyamachou - Suburban area of Fuyuki. An intersection between most of the sections, it is difficult to get anywhere in Fuyuki without passing through Miyamachou. It contains a shopping street notable for its food and small shops with rather lax employment standards; more than one Servant has gotten a job here.

Shinto - The urban side of Fuyuki. Contains the Center Building, the tallest building in the city, and the Centeral Library. It also holds the Fancy Shop, the largest stuffed animal shop in town.

Spoiler: During the Night

Miyamachou - The riverside park is typically regarded as a nice, quiet place after sundown.

Fuyuki Bride - A bridge that links both of the city's main sections. It seems to be deserted whenever a dramatic showdown is about to occur.

Shinto - The harbor is an isolated place, especially during the night. Contains both docks and storage for shipping crates. Fuyuki Church, the home of Father Meminger. There is also the Fuyuki Central Park, a place noted for its empty, almost perfectly still atmosphere.

Mount Enzou - Home to Ryuudouji Temple, the spiritual heart of Fuyuki.

Outer Forest - A large patch of woods just outside of Fuyuki.

[hr]

Dawn of the First Day: 12/9/12. 7 Masters and 7 Servants remain.

 

[Pappytech]

Masters:

Spoiler: Ilene von Einzbern - Pappytech

Name: Ilene von Einzbern.

Gender: Female

Age: 21

Appearance: Although she's fairly short, standing at about a head shorter than other people her age, Ilene never fails to stick out in a crowd. Her pure-white hair, always well kept and never tied back, hangs down to her waist. Her eyes, only rarely hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses, are a bright crimson and glimmer with arrogance and amusement. Her pale skin is peerless; you won't find a single flaw or imperfection anywhere on her body.

Refusing to wear anything that isn't a designer label, Ilene is always dressed to the nines in a high end blouse and skirt. Though her favorite outfits are always dark colors, either black, navy, or dark blue, she would never be caught without clothes of every shade imaginable. A pair of knee-high boots completes her ensemble.

While she's not really one for accessories, Ilene does wear a silver bracelet, in the shape of a serpent eating its own tail, around her right wrist.

Personality: Ilene seems to enjoy a-words. Angry. Arrogant. Asshole.

Harsh and grating, the girl knows that she is far superior to the common, uneducated hordes that populate Fuyuki City, and she will make sure that everyone else knows it as well. The scourge of waiters and tailors alike, Ilene holds everyone and everything to her own extremely high standards; if she is unsatisfied with your product or service (which she is quite often) she will ensure that you suffer for daring to slight her.

Bred and educated with the express purpose of winning the Sixth Holy Grail War, Ilene will do anything and everything in her power to ensure victory. The other Masters and Servants are nothing but obstacles to be surmounted or pawns to be played against each other. Make no mistake, she will win this War, no matter how high the cost.

Origin: Sunder.

Though she's been trained in a variety of magical skills, such as healing and conjuring barriers, Ilene is uniquely talented in memory alteration. When given enough time and mana, she can operate on someone's mind like a world-class surgeon. Whether she's replacing memories with forgeries or simply deleting them, her work is all but undetectable to the untrained mind; even a typical Magus will only have the vaguest sense of unease after falling prey to her techniques.

Mystic Code: None.

History: There really isn't a lot to know about Ilene's childhood. Raised in the Einzbern castle, away in the isolated, frigid north, Ilene never had friends or playmates. She never had birthday parties or fairy tales or toys or pets or anything. She had books and lessons, nothing else.

Always destined to participate in the Sixth Holy Grail War, Ilene was trained in the arts of magecraft from a young age, constantly pushed to surpass her limits and become one of the greatest Magi of the age. Tutors and professors were brought to the castle with the express purpose of furthering her education; no one was too expensive or difficult to acquire.

As she grew older, Ilene eventually became fixated on the outside world. She knew that there was more to life than this freezing hall, but she didn't know what exactly. As such, she built up the real world like anyone else would a fantasy or story, seeing it as a paradise unlike any other.

When she actually stepped out into the real world, her disappointment was palpable.

As she travels to Fuyuki City, Ilene will accept only the finest bits of the outside world. Any food, clothes, cars, or anything else she possesses must be of the highest possible quality; anything less is simply unacceptable.

Spoiler: Clay Marks - Arcanist

Name: Clay Marks

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Appearance: 6'1" and of average build. Brown hair and blue eyes. He wears clothing one would expect of a normal twenty-something - T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. The only thing he wears that sticks out - at least to other magi - is a silver necklace he wears around his neck bearing the sigil of the Marks family, an eagle facing to the right with a burning branch in one talon and a stone in the other. He keeps this on him at all times, concealing it if he must with coats and the like.

Personality: Terse and introverted, he has a habit of only speaking in one of two ways - in a few short sentences, or, if provoked in some manner, in a long-winded rant. He thoroughly believes power in all its forms to be inherently dangerous, magic included, and thus inherently distrusts authority figures and other magi. His loyalty, though hard to build, is unflappable once earned. Slow to anger, as he feels magi should always keep their tempers in check.

Origin: The Marks family is marked in the annals of the Association as being masters of elemental magic - every magi to have emerged bearing the Marks surname has had an Origin directly relating to the elements. Clay is no different - his Origin, "Blaze", gives him a great degree of control over the magics of fire and electricity. Though he is capable of the cantrips of other schools most magi are capable of achieving, it is in this regard he spends most of his study.

Mystic Code: An heirloom of the Marks family, the Shifting Storm is a gemstone no larger than a pearl set in a necklace. The form of the stone shifts to match the elemental affinity of the beholder - topaz for lightning wielders, garnets for fire, and so on. It appears as a lusterless quartz for anybody without an elemental affinity. The gem acts as a focus for elemental magic, empowering a spell beyond what the magi would normally be capable of achieving in exchange for some of the user's mana - usually in the form of their life force, but it is not unheard of to use an outside source the wielder has easy access to. To Clay, the stone appears as a flawless red topaz.

History: The Marks family has a long, storied history with the Mage's Association. Their magi are the premier experts on elemental magic - at least, prior to the Second Grail War. One of their scions where selected to be a Master in that war, and they nearly succeeded. Unfortunately, the second place prize in most Grail Wars is death - and the failure of the Marks family to prevent the tragedy that followed, with the winner abusing their power to the suffering of many innocents, caused their survivors to withdraw from the world at large, abandoning the Association. They swore to train their heirs to be ready for the next war, not to gain power or glory, but to prevent its abuse.

It is to this family Clay found himself born. The second child of a family of three children, Clay watched as his older sister Maria was groomed from birth to take on the responsibility of being the family's primary mage. Though he had a great deal of talent, same as his sister, his parents decided to focus their efforts on one heir - to better prepare them for the coming Grail War.

Maria's tutelage went awry, however, when the first spell she attempted to cast with the Shifting Storm's guidance backfired. Her attempt to transmute air to water created a feedback loop within her Magic Circuit, the power of the Shifting Storm slowly draining her of her life force. To break the cycle, Clay's mother offered Maria's Circuit and her own as collateral - breaking the loop and saving her life, but depriving them both of the ability to use magic. This incident left a profound, lingering impact on Clay - he saw magic in all its forms as inherently dangerous, only to be invoked in dire straits.

With his sister magically neutered, it fell on Clay to carry on the family traditions. His father wasted no time in instructing him. Much to his delight, though Clay was reluctant to study magic, his talent was prestigious - by the time he was 18, he was capable of using a variety of elemental spells empowered by the Shifting Storm. His parents passed away shortly after his twentieth birthday, their dying words to him this simple plea: "Whatever it takes, Clay, win the coming War. Don't let it happen again." He swore to them he'd win, refusing the power the Grail offered and preventing its abuse.



'Power isn't a toy, to be used and discarded at one's amusement. It's a focus - a catalyst that empowers the consequences of our actions - for good or for ill. Unfortunately, men have consistently proven themselves incapable of using power responsibly. Corruption, war, abuse of magic - all of these things are proof of the wisdom these words carry. The Grail is the ultimate manifestation of this power, of mages and tyrants, of men and gods. Think only of what destruction and suffering a single mad magi is capable of accomplishing, then give to him the power of a god. The danger is obvious - but what can we do? What can anybody do? This question has haunted my family for generations, ever since our abysmal failure at the conclusion of the Second Grail War.

Thus it falls to me - the last mage of the Marks family - to set things right. The circle is prepared, the war set to begin. When I write next, I will either fail, dooming my family to irrelevance for another cycle, or I shall succeed - and become the first Master of the Marks family in five generations.

But I will not fail. Too much is at stake, too much damage could be done. I have traveled to Japan explicitly for the purpose of joining in this battle - and join it I will. And once I have, I will lie, fight, kill. I will do these things to keep the Grail from the greedy and ambitious, the cruel and malicious. I will do these things to vindicate my family. I will do these things to make my parents proud.

But above all else, I will do these things because I must - because if not me, then who?'

-An excerpt from Clay's journal, written immediately prior to his summoning attempt

Spoiler: Mordecai - ruedyn

Name: Mordecai Yeshua

Gender: Male

Age: 34

Appearance: He is a tall, thin man, standing at around 6'1 and weighing 145 lbs. He has a pallid complexion, and a large nose ruining his otherwise handsome face. Unlike the wizards of yore, he makes sure to shave his beard often. He keeps his chestnut brown hair short clean and cropped. His eyes are large, shaded a deep green, and have a tendency of revealing his emotions. He has recently developed large bags underneath them, in fact his whole demeanor can be summed up as 'tired' lately.

His clothes are simple, a plain white dress shirt usually slightly unbuttoned around the top and black slacks. When the mood strikes him, he'll wear his old doctors coat, which he uses instead of a traditional wizard robe. He wears a pair of rimless glasses, which he can barely see without. He wears a pair of generic white sneakers, with no brand.

Personality: He is a good man, or so people keep telling him. He is a Doctor, which could be part of it. He actively tries to help people, as non-violently as possible, leading him to play mediator with his very few friends. He has no real reason for wanting to help people, he just kind of does. No dramatic back story or anything. The best guess would be he seeks approval from others. He is a bit of a book worm, and is very analytical.

His flaws would be crippling low self esteem, his aforementioned need for approval, and his constant second guessing of himself. He has a slightly dark sense of humor, which most would blame his years as a doctor for having, but he had it long before then. He is a non-practicing Jew, though he is quite versed in hebrew.

Origin: He is a doctor, so his spells revolve around healing or shields. His word is even 'Restore'.

Mystic Code: Resurrection. With his fathers gold plated crucifix, he can bring anything back to life, at great expense to himself. He personally hates the thing, so he doesn't use it.

History: Mordecai comes from a large, magic using family, though he didn't know it until about 7 years ago. His father was a womanizer, managing to knock up Mordecai's mother. He ended up leaving when Mordecai was 2, replaced with a much more stable, though non-magical, step-father. His upbringing was a standard one, only brought into the magical world around the age of 28. It wasn't glorious or anything, he was just brought up in his fathers will, given some tomes and his crucifix. He began to practice this new field, and became quite proficient with it, enough so that he was invited to a battle for an item his people don't care about.

Spoiler: Master Dirk - CJ1145

Name: Dirk "Kenshi" Orihara

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Appearance: Stands at approximately 5'11", and weighs about 145 lbs. His skin is light, and a tad pinker than the average Japanese citizen. His face is thin, slight, and bears an appearance that some might call cunning, and others might call deceptive. His light eyes gleam with a vicious, undeniable intelligence. His facial features are not particularly prominent, and seem to almost be subdued, for lack of a better term when viewing him. His dark hair is swept back in a full, flock-of-seagulls style.

His body is very thin, but reasonably toned for someone that had an active participation in the track team. He typically wears simple clothing, nothing more than a coat and a black t-shirt, with jeans or shorts as the weather dictates. One thing that never changes is the black combat boots he wears. Those never change.

Personality: Dirk is something of a problem solver. He sees a challenge, and he tackles it. Every teacher he's ever studied under has called him a genius, and he sees no reason to prove them wrong. Very calm, cool, and focused, he's capable of thoroughly analyzing anything and perceiving little details that anyone else would have missed. A strategist, and a conqueror, he has left the likes of board games and such challenges in his wake, never again to glance their way. He hates winning every match.

A hatred of winning, you could say, has come to define him. He seeks a challenge that he cannot overcome. An opponent to outwit him. He's become very good at making adversaries out of the strangers he meets, probing them with little, insulting bites based on things he frankly shouldn't know, just so they'll have a reason to come after him and try to trounce him at something.

That said, he's not a genuinely bad person. He's just driven by a very confrontational personality, and when he was born--he will admit to his own chagrin he never earned them, he was born with the skills to overcome any confrontations with relative ease, it's rather easy to see why he'd be driven mad. He can be friendly, and even chatty when in the right mood; it's just not his goal, and his goal is something that he cannot attain by his own nature. The one thing that truly challenges him is magic, and as a result he pours himself into it wholeheartedly. He becomes feverishly intense when he studies and practices, and has been known to go on multiple-day binges of reading and practicing his arts, just because the frustration of a task he is not capable of completing is so novel to him.

Origin: Intuition. Since birth, Dirk has seen and perceived the world differently than others. At a deeper, more intimate level. To illustrate, consider: When a man observes an object, he judges it. However when Dirk observes an object, he knows it. This grants him an insight that others lack into the fundamental natures of physical things, and has gifted him with a special talent for Material Transmutation, including the magecrafts of Reinforcement and Graduation Air.

Mystic Code: None.

History: Dirk was a terrifyingly bored child. Though his eyes nearly crackled with untapped potential, they were hidden behind listless, frustrated lids. Years of his life were poured into physical and mental pursuits. Nothing social, in the normal sense. He never had friends. He had rivals. Just as good, just as trustworthy, but built on mutual antagonism and a desire to overcome one another. But it was always the same. He never had anyone to overcome. They were always trying to surpass him. He got bored of it.

He took to track, and managed to become one of the more talented members of the team. Everyone was great at something. Only Dirk was good at everything. He tried kendo for several years. They call him "kenshi" now. It only took him a few matches to teach him all of his classmates' styles. Their favored stance, their favored limbs, everything he needed to twirl his blade around theirs and come out victorious.

His parents had meant to kept their family legacy, their magic, a secret from him. They knew the War was coming, and they intended to keep him away from it. But it was disturbing, to see how little he valued his own life. He needed an outlet, something to challenge him. They decided they had no choice but to show him his legacy, as a Magi. He dove into the work like his life depended on it. In a way it did. He spent a week with no food and almost no water working on perfecting his abilities.

It was midnight, nearly a fortnight after he was shown his family's secret history, that he attempted his first spell.

He failed miserably.

And he couldn't have been happier.

Spoiler: Sophie Topfer - Fishtie

Name: Sophie Topfer

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Appearance: Sophie is not particularly tall but she is slightly slim, though more rugged then truly petite. Her slim size hides a surprising amount of strength and her slightly gawky stance might suggest that she still isn't quite done growing yet. Sophie's face on the other hand is quite feminine with generally small features and a rounded shape though the effect is slightly spoiled by evidence of old nicks and scrapes. Such marks along with her rough skin and hint of farmer's tan suggest a past that probably involved a fair amount of labor.

Sophie's hair is a dull brown and straight as could be. Her hair is rather short in the back and her bangs are cut right above her eyes. Sophie's eyes are a very dark green and seem a little large on her otherwise small face. Sophie tends to stand strong and solid with both feet planted, confident and unapologetic about who she is.

Sophie's wardrobe tends to always focus on substance over style, often wearing heavy duty jeans and work boots along with a button up shirt. She almost never wears any makeup, but has recently began to wear a simple pair of stud earrings. She has also recently taken a liking to her grandfather's old olive green army jacket and likes to sport it.

Personality: Sophie is generally pretty friendly and is usually in high spirits. While she doesn't talk very quickly she does enjoy talking quite a lot about just about everything and anything under the sun though she's just as content to let someone else do so as well. In general Sophie tends to pay a lot of attention to those who are around her; though some might think of her as a bit of a pushover, she can get ludicrously stubborn once she puts her foot down.

Sophie has absolutely no fear of hard work especially physical labor, and steadfastly believes that talent can be replaced by proper preparation and enough elbow grease. Sophie is anti-conflict by nature, but won't stand for what she believes is wrong either.

It might be noted that Sophie has a bit of an 'addictive' personality, tending to get swept up in fads and hero worship.

Origin: Foundation. Sophie has a natural talent for deep seeded and subtle magics that may not necessarily have large flashy effects. While spells like this may take a long time to cast and have almost no immediate effects they can slowly but steadily build up effect allowing for a total change far beyond what should have been achievable.

Sophie also is talented at finding and changing the undercurrents of other spells allowing her to undermine their power in a similar manor. However, Sophie's most powerful talent may be her ability in working with another spell caster; by laying a proper magical foundation for a spell they cast she can massively boost their power and stability.

Mystic Code: Sophie owns a magical trumpet. Though playing out a spell is much longer and more noticeable then just casting it, an appropriate bit of music can result is a much sponger spell. It seems particularly efficient at boosting spells dealing with the human heart or mind.

History: Sophie was born in a small farming town in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. Though she had been born into a farming family they also had a long history of magi within them who used earthen magic to help grow the harvest. Though she was taught how to use magic from a very young age she was never really interested in it, preferring to learn music and be more normal, something that her low key parents didn't mind too much.

When Sophie was 15 she moved to the city to live with her older sister for a while. In addition to trying to urbanize Sophie, her sister insisted that Sophie learn more about magic and began to step up her training. When the call came for the Holy Grail War it was assumed that Sophie's more serious competitive sister would be chosen. However, Sophie ended up being the one who would compete so, rather confused, she set out for Fuyuki city.

Spoiler: Maria Schmidt - Glasgow

Name: Maria Schmidt

Gender: Female

Age: 45

Appearance: Maria is a black, short and thin woman. She had aged horribly over the years and appears to be much older than she really is. Her hair grows thinner by the day - the white, short strands reach up to her shoulders and are left unkempt. Wrinkles litter her face and her tired eyes are colored with an amalgamation of green and brown. She is covered with what appears like a collection of old rags stitched together to form a coat of sorts - but the rags themselves have a purpose.

Origin: Trickster. Maria had learned over the years how to fool those who go after her - with a combination of various spells that alter the senses of those in pursuit of her, she can throw them off balance and teleport them into a fantasy world while she makes her escape.

Personality: Maria had become an outcast from her family in the last decade. Her barren womb had made her unusable for the purposes of the family and her weak trickster magic was called out as too feeble to be used in the grand tournament. She tried her best to please her family but she failed nonetheless - she still loves them, but the solitude that was forced upon her changed her outlook on life. She became more reclusive and had little experience with communicating with her fellow men. She couldn't trust strangers and would regularly doubt their intentions.

Mystice Code: A parting gift the clan had given her before sending her on to their castle in the old continent, this pair of glasses allowed her to see prana in the air and identify those wielding magic and their origins.

A coat she created from many pieces of enchanted cloth, it protects her from fire and the cold.

History: Born to the cadet branch of an old family from Europe, Maria was found to be gifted with magic but not enough to be given much attention. As she grew older she became valuable again when the clan tried to lure in a rogue magician with the promise of accepting him to the house - and marrying him to Maria.

At first Maria didn't like the arrangement at all, but she had no other choice but to oblige. To her surprise her husband proved to be very caring and friendly. Maria thought he loved her at times, and so their relationship deepened. He taught her magic and gave her more knowledge to use so she could study it for herself. He was supposed to represent the house in the tournament but the summoning of the servant failed. The following years tensions grew when Maria continued fail bearing any children and finally at the end of her 36th year her beloved husband officially asked the elders to leave her in favor of a younger wife - her 19 year old cousin. They agreed.

Maria was shamefully expelled from the life of the house and led to spend out the rest of her life in the family's old dwelling - a castle just outside of Budapest. She was devastated by the betrayal she suffered, and her agony continued while she lived ten more years in solitude. Maria thought she would be reading the old library of the castle till her death, but terrible news of her ex-husband's death and the clan's inability to find a replacement so close to the tournament pushed her to become a player herself. She was determined to right the wrongs that were done upon her - and return the time she lost as a mere pawn in the hands of the family's elders. She found one of many remains in the old castle and preformed the ritual... fortunately she succeeded.

 

[Pappytech]

Servants:

Spoiler: Lancer - Pappytech

Class: Lancer

Appearence: Standing at roughly 6' tall, Lancer's body is comprised of 180 pounds of lithe, flexible muscle. Though his arms and legs fail to bulge like other combat-oriented Servants, it is clear that he's in prime condition. His pale skin is only slightly tanned and his brown eyes always seem to be glowing with some amount of bloodlust. A thick, dark brown mustace coats his upper lip and his similarly colored hair, normally tied back in a pony-tail, hangs down to his shoulders.

When readying himself for combat, Lancer dresses in a tight uniform of black and crimson, with a light brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. The cloak is normally tossed away whenever a fight begins, however. In addition, he also carries a halberd as long as he is tall.

Otherwise Lancer wears a pinstripe suit, complete with a white silk shirt and a bright red tie.

Strengths: Like all members of his class, Lancer possesses incredible speed and agility on the battlefield, as well as a frightful amount of skill with his halberd. Any Servant other than Saber or Berserker will be hard pressed to keep up with him when it comes to normal combat.

Weaknesses: Besides his phenomenally low magical resistance, Lancer's most notable failing would be his incredible fragility; any injury will prove to be fairly crippling to his fighting style. What's more, he can be easily overwhelmed if forced to face more than one opponent at the same time.

Spoiler: Rider - HellsingerAngel

Class: Rider

Appearance: Rider stands at a respectable 6'5" and weighs around 230 lbs. The image of a lion would be best to describe his physique - muscular and powerful but not bulky and slow. His features are cut squarely, the perfect image of a warrior that could be considered very attractive. His dark brown eyes are fixed in a fierce and piercing gaze with a determination rarely seen in others. His look is one of constant readiness and eagreness to enter combat.
His battle regalia consist of a traditional purple battle robe with similarly coloured pants. A red sash ties the ensemble together. Leather weave armour with metal plates are worn on top of his clothing when he's in the midst of battle to protect himself. When walking the streets he wears a collared shirt of varying colours, complimenting brown dockers, loafers and a pair of aviators. The one constant to his wardrobe is a golden headpiece and pin that sets his hair into a ponytail.

Strengths: His powerful build unsurprisingly translates to a strong opponent. He is quick and dexterous in combat, skilled with his spear unlike any other. His skills as a warrior are unparalelled to the point where any dual would be considered suicide. Lastly, he is privledged enough to be skilled in both spear and bow making him a threat at multiple ranges.

Weaknesses: Rider is hauty and prideful amking him very difficult to control as he believes he knows best. On top of this, he is also brash and impulsive which is a foolhearty combination of traits. He also has a fondness for women and often hounds after them in favour of almost anything else, searching for a love lost. Apart from having a difficult personality, he has low magic resistance.

Spoiler: Saber - Redrhyno

Class: Saber

Appearance: Almost Kallu's physical opposite, Saber stands at around six feet, hair almost like golden fleece, and a beard that fits comfortably on his face. The most noticeable being a scar across his forehead, triangular in shape, which widens from the left to the right side of his head. He normally wears a suit, almost archaic in look, black pants and coat over a white silk shirt and driving gloves.

When it becomes time for combat the suit shifts into a suit of pearly white armor, the gloves become gauntlets, and a greatsword appears in his hands, an almost invisible line connects two parts of it, the hilt and an inch of blade or so, and the remainder of the blade itself.

Strengths: As he is of the Saber class, he is extraordinarily skilled in the art of combat and will fight to the death should he be challenged. The sword is powerful in its own right, but only when wielded by Saber. As it is HIS sword, and it acknowledges him only as its wielder.

Weaknesses: As his greatest strength in his time was his Chivalry, Piety, and Chastity, it is not so much in this time. He will not defend himself against anyone he considers a kinsman, will grant his opponent mercy should they ask for it, and will not lay with any woman(or man, you rules lawyers).

Spoiler: Caster - TheIronRuler

Class: Caster

Appearance: Caster manifests as a tall, slim old man. The giant stands at 7 feet. He wears black clothes ? a robe that would be more suitable to a priest than himself with a hoodie hiding his white hair. His beard is long and thick, and more than once you could see him take out items from it. A heavy copper cross is hung from his neck. His eyes are black and hollow, as if they were soulless.

Strengths: Caster is skilled with calling angelic and demonic underlings at his command, healing himself and others very quickly and even controlling the dead. He uses incantations of prayers in an unknown language to do all of that.

Weaknesses: Caster himself is weak ? he can't attack other servants directly and instead relies on the help of his underlings he summons with prayers. Although he could recover from light wounds relatively easily, it won't take much to take him out once his advantage is dispensed of.

Spoiler: Assassin - drmigit2

Class: Assassin

Appearance: He wears a simple tunic, his face shrouded by years of mistellings and other horrific tales. Anyone can see the guilt in his darkness however. On his side lays both a charm and a belted knife, blood covering both the hilt and blade. His name rings through the history books, his sandals trampled over the sands of time. His hands are blood red and despite how hard he tries, they will never be clean again.

The assassin's voice is surprisingly charismatic, very bold and defined, gentlemen-like even. He presents himself with a certain prestige despite his feelings over his job. The confidence the hooded figure presents is apparent with his power.

Strengths: Aside from being able to entirely disappear like any other assassin, this one is also very dexterous on the battlefield and is very hard to touch. He can find weak spots and hit them with unrivaled precision while at the same time quickly moving to his next target. He is also very fast and skilled with his weapons of choice.

Weaknesses: He feels very guilty over what he has done and is reluctant to kill those he perceives as undeserving of death. Also, while he is magically resistant, he is physically weak against any type of weapons. He has to rely on not being seen or dodging around to survive.

Spoiler: Berserker - Shadowstar38

Class: Berserker

Appearance: The berserker stands at 5?11 and is heavily muscled. He has gold colored eyes, and brown hair that is spiked up. His chest and arms are covered in a wide array of tattoos, and a scar runs from the left side of his chest where his nipple use to be to the center.

Berserker wears dark red pants with brown boots, a red sash, and bandages around his wrists. He never wears a shirt, and instead puts on a sleeveless, emerald green vest with gold accents. Two bells are clipped to his belt so his enemies can hear him coming.

When in combat, his legs and arms are covered in gold plated armor, and a headband appears on his forehead. The vest is removed to leave his midsection fully open. His primary weapons are a set of large, steel daggers. He carries a pike as a secondary.

Strengths: Berserker has inhuman levels of speed and agility. Though his actual strength might be average compared to others, his ability to move around any defense makes his hits add up quickly. He also posses high amounts of stamina, so any fight with him that gets drawn out is likely to go in his favor.

Weaknesses: Berserker is a headstrong and arrogant brawler who?s always looking for a fight even when it is not advantageous. His lack of proper body protection is a fairly stupid oversight to anyone but himself. His greatest weakness is his lack of proper defense, as due to him focusing more a speed, he doesn?t block very effectively or take very many hits.

 

[Ruedyn]

'God, churches give me the willies.' Mordecai thought, listening intently and biting his lower lip. He mentally mocked the man and his rules, not saying anything out loud for fear of the man ripping out his throat. When he allowed them to leave, he took Assassin by the arm and led him out, as quick as he was able, stumbling slightly on his threat. He still managed to keep his pace, pushing the doors open and inhaling deeply, his departing words something about his mom and fish. He'd meant to practice his Japanese, but time makes fools of us all.
"God damn I'm happy to get out of there. I believe we fit under 'alleyway' for sleeping, and that doesn't appeal to me. Know of any cheap hotels around here?" he asked his partner, in English. He thought he read something about them always understanding the masters language, but that could be incorrect.
"Also" this part he said quietly, "If we need to, you know... kill people, can you do it? I don't think I could."

 

[drmigit2]

"If we need to, you know... kill people, can you do it? I don't think I could."

The assassin was very cautiously observing the area, he needed the grail, so many wrongs to undo, so many rights to make. His master seemed kind enough, which was good, he didn't think he could stomach being the one to end him. It seemed as if Mordecai had avoided any research, which was unfortunate. The assassin however, knew what he was doing. There were hotels around, and people would probably avoid attacking the duo there. Besides, dark and foreboding corridors were his specialty now. The hooded figure returned dryly.

"I am aware of a few, I did my research here and we will want to go to a crowded one. Any operations we take should have a home base where we can't be easily brought to ruin." The figure stared at his hands, more blood would run on them again, he knew it, the sacrifice needed to make the world right again. "We are going to have to kill others for this, it's in the rules. I normally do research on marks, make sure they deserve it, if you wish I could dig up some dirt to make this easier. I will probably be expected to do most of this, just know that you may have to defend yourself. I made a pact with you a while ago to ensure victory, I hope to fulfill it."

 

[CJ1145]

To find a church in Japan felt strange. To be inside of one felt stranger. The light was sparse and sparing, only gracing slivers of the echoing, polished wooden room with light. The man in front of them seemed to radiate light, and yet a darkness too. The Masters gathered for the war were standing in a line, tallest to shortest. Squarely in the middle was a young boy. Younger than any of the others. The juniormost attendee was dressed in a brown denim coat, shielding him from the cold of a December day. His breath seemed to linger in the air, clouds that came slowly and at an even pace. His eyes were cold, but full of a vigor. They darted from left to right, not focusing for even a second on the Father instructing them. He was focused on the competition. He wished that he'd been given a proper look at them, but it appeared they were being drawn here one at a time. He'd have to watch his back, then, and speculate.

I can assume they're all more experienced than I am. Most families dream of this war, and train accordingly. And they're likely more talented at this magic game, too. No matter. I'll still kill them all.

When the Father finished, and returned to his sanctuary's shadows, there was nothing left to do but leave. Dirk spun on his heel, one hand dug in his pocket as the other signaled to his Servant. "We're leaving."

They stepped out, and walked in a non-particular direction, leaving the church behind and winding up in a bitterly cold, abandoned corner of the harbor. Dirk looked out to the water. Peace helped him think, and this sometimes seemed the most peaceful place in Fuyuki.

He spoke, his voice low and lilting as he ambled through his thoughts to the regal man that had followed him: Saber.

"I've lived in Fuyuki my whole life. I know where to go. We're going to my home first, but we won't be staying there. Just picking up supplies."

He popped his neck and looked up at Saber, a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

"I'd suggest, if there's anything you won't do, that you tell me about it now. I can't plan without knowing my handicaps."

 

[Glasgow]

They had humiliated her for the last time. They will no longer take away her dignity. Her pride, her life, her convictions? No more will they grind her to dirt and spread her to the four winds. Maria was a young beautiful flower when her family used her as a pawn in a bigger game of prestige. She was just a tool made to lure a powerful man into the family and when she broke, they looked for a replacement.

They didn't want to kill her. No, that would be too cruel. They had the perfect place set up for her ? an ancient dilapidated castle just west of Budapest. There she met others, not much unlike her. Those who were exiled from the family ? deemed unfit for magic. They were branded incomplete, or incompetent. There she met them ? only one survived, and the rest were skulls. They were bones that spoke to her in the night. Words that told her about the enchanted cloth to protect her from harm. They all came to her aid when the time was right, and they all whispered to her to take the bone of the old man and use it to summon his spirit? Summon it, so she may win the holy grail war and win back her fate. Win it back from her once loving family that threw her to a pit overflowing with desperation.

She will have her vengeance, and nothing will stop her. She summoned the ghost ? A caster by class, and set off to Japan in that far-away land. She would use the connections of her late ex-husband which were set to help him during the tournament. It only took two days for the old hag to travel to that wretched city, the one that would most likely be her last resting place.

Maria didn't need to rely on sticking to the shadows. She made her own shadows to hide behind, and those were the appearance of a different woman altogether. She made herself to be a tall Caucasian woman in her early twenties, not too different from the movie-starlets running around in Hollywood in the olden days. She covered herself in the shadows, but those who wanted to see her could feast their eyes on her young form.

My new future seems so close, yet so far away… To undo the wrongs done to me, I have to wrong all of those people

The priest finished speaking but Maria felt very uncomfortable standing inside the church. She had been brought up in the shadow of the Catholic Church yet this place seems so detached she failed to feel anything familiar. Something in this house of the lord was out of place, but the old hag had no time to dwell on that. She nodded silently and bid her farewell ? a fairly simple bow.

"Come, caster", she ordered the imposing silhouette behind her.

The two left the church without any fuss. The old hag led the way, hoping to find a dry bed to rest her head on for the night. Her heart was filled with warmth for the first time in years. It was something new? something named, hope.

 

[Redryhno]

Saber stood with his Master in line, towering over some of the Servants, barely reaching the chests of others. This was a strange time indeed, where he had once towered over so many, he now was average, and a land such as this he never had known existed before he had been summoned and bound. So long ago, yet almost like a dream it was, and that unsettled him.

Dirk spun around and began to leave, Saber followed before his hand gestured, and the two arrived outside the church. A strange land indeed, even if he had been imparted with the intervening centuries of knowledge. He stood out in the December night and smoothed out his beard that had been blown wildly by a stray wind.

"I'd suggest, if there's anything you won't do, that you tell me about it now. I can't plan without knowing my handicaps."

"You should know of my legends, they can't have all been lost in the passage of time. However, the people of this century know nothing of the old code, so I will tell you my absolutes. Should we encounter any innocents or bystanders during this...tournament, I will do nothing to neither hinder nor help them, should you wish them dead, you must do it yourself, and allow God to deal with your punishment. Neither will I strike down a foe that truly surrenders, be it Servant or Master."

Saber finished and began walking again, hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed, and took a deep breath, one of the few he would be allowed to take he believed with this second life. He turned back to his Master and bowed, extremely archaic in appearance just as the way he walked and moved, left foot as far back as it would go, tip toed, while his right bent in half, even while his right hand extended towards Dirk, left clasped over his heart.

"You are an interesting subject Master Dirk. A man of your talents would have excelled in both times of peace and war, I'm quite sure. The only problem being that little glint in your eye when you see a challenge. The same as my brother, justified arrogance and always seeking that one challenge that could best him. Funny to think he died not in the heat of battle or even,"He chuckled once,"In the passion of the bedchamber, but as an old man in his sleep. Take care of that spirit inside of you, or it will consume you."

 

[CJ1145]

Dirk took Saber's hand and shook it, once, before letting go. He quickly slid his hand back into his pocket, silently cursing the frigid nighttime air.

"Believe me," he said with a solemn face. Another person would likely be smiling cockily right then. "I know all about what's consuming me. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

He began marching away from the harbor, quietly expecting Saber to follow. He marched down a southward road, the bridge connecting the two halves of Fuyuki some ways away. He buried his head in the warmth of his coat, and his muffled voice began to rattle off instructions.

"Based on past wars, we can safely assume our enemies are older than me, and more experienced. And frankly, I know your name but little of your deeds. Your legend is a footnote compared to past combatants, and likely our opponents as well."

He kicked a pebble on the road, watching it hop and skip off to his right, tumbling down an incline and into the river they were traveling beside.

"We're weak, and your class is the only thing we have going for us in a straight fight. I asked you your limits... because I plan to cheat."

He held up his right hand, on the back of it several glyphs were faintly glowing in the night air. Dirk examined their ethereal crimson color for a moment, before shoving his hand back into the pocket it belonged to. "These are precious, and I plan to use them sparingly. Starting tomorrow, I expect you to dress as casually as possible, during the day. Buy larger sizes, if you need to fit it over your armor. I also expect for you to shave, and dye your hair to a more acceptably Japanese color. The others saw what we look like tonight, and what they saw is what they'll be looking out for. Change our appearance, and we drop off their radar. Gives us the initiative. I'll be changing my appearance as well."

The bridge up ahead was visible now, only a few vagabonds relaxing beneath its steel shelter.

"If you possess any knowledge of the workings of this... magic, I expect you to share it. This is all new to me, and I'm inexperienced with it. I'll need to learn quickly, or we're both as good as dead."

Dirk led the way onto the bridge, silently passing the people of Fuyuki, and getting well over a hundred meters across before he finally whispered, "Any questions?"

 

[TheIronRuler]

The new world feels so lonely?

It was a wish, a desire ? that brought him into this earth again as a creature caught between life and death. The old man contemplated whether it was a wish he had planted in his heart all of those years ago or whether it was the influence of the other that brought him back. The other one, that woman who called herself his master. The old hag who was locked up in a tower, waiting for a prince long dead and hoping for a happy ending that would never care to grace her pitiful existence.

He looked upon her for the first time and marveled at her beauty. So much potential the woman had, yet it was all for naught. They spoke with each other and her heritage became clear ? so was the way she found a bone of his dead human form.

He knew of his wish quite well, but he felt pity for the old hag. That one, stripped of her freedom and youth, had squandered her best years for a mere illusion of respect ? one that was quickly smashed when the truth was revealed.

With that, he was adamant in his convictions. Victory shall be attained, with all means necessary. The forces of heaven and hell lay dormant at his fingertips, and all that remains is uttering the words of prayer. Bringing up the dead souls of man and pulling out the corpses of long forgotten peasants will be a mere step in the right direction. With every incantation, the earth shall tremble before his might and GOD, yes ? GOD SHALL KNOW HIM ALL TOO WELL!

No longer will the heavens stay silent while he cries out for their aid. No longer will the angels weep in silence ? THEY WILL ANSWER HIS WILL. With every inch of his body the caster knew that HE, yes ? HE shall drag the lord almighty down to earth and FORCE him to reveal himself? For he had waited and seen the horrors of war and famine?For he had seen the horrors in this life that would exceed any sins paid in hell?

He knows the endless masses who pray for forgiveness, but he knows not the answer!

Answer me, you almighty being, answer your faithful follower! Who will you choose to lead your people to paradise and who will you choose to lay dead in the desert? Speak, benevolent being, and tell us your judgment!

The old Japanese city of heretics will be the new grounds of a war for the hearts of man. A war to gain back the faith lost in all of those centuries ? and put the fear of god back into all of them!. They know no savior because they know no hell on earth ? and they shall feel the inferno burning their flesh to a crisp, and then they will scream for a savior.

Repent, repent and follow me, my people!

The old man stopped in his tracks and snapped out of his trance. The hag stared at him with a hint of a smile on her face. His fiery words did not reach her, but she knows? and she accepts him. She accepts the man, the murderer, and the legend. The duo was standing at the edges of the city overlooking the sea. Caster burrowed his right hand in his chest and pulled out his cross.

"We need a few helping hands", the old hag said.

Caster nodded and spoke quietly, letting out a small prayer into the wind.

The minion appeared as if out of thin air. It was a small, red demon. The thing was completely naked, standing on two horse legs and using a long tail with a blade at the edge to balance himself. In his hands he held a mighty black pitchfork made from forgotten metal. The demon looked up at the two with his big, blue eyes like a child looks up to his parents.

It had begun.

 

[Arcanist]

------- December 1st, 2012, London

"Hello, Marks residence. How can I help you?"

"Maria. Is this line secure?"

"What the... Clay?"

"Maria, answer me. Is the sodding line secure?"

"Clay, where are you!?"

"Maria, I don't have much time to talk. Is this line secure or not?"

"...Yes."

"Good. I have it. Gather Diana and charter a flight to Japan. It's starting."

------- Present Day

Clay stood back, admiring his work. Magic circles where the basis of most ritualistic magic, so he was hardly a stranger to their theory and construction. But this circle, even by his standards, was exquisite. An intricate web of lines, shapes, and runes adorned its interior. Only one step remained - to add the catalyst.

Clay wiped the sweat from his brow and took in a deep breath. He'd sacrificed much to get this far - too much, if you asked him - and now was the time to see if his hard work would pay off. A woman, half a head shorter than he and with the same dark brown hair, stood at his side, holding a large quantity of spellbooks and various other arcane instruments.

"Well, it would seem the witching hour is upon us." Clay produced from a bag to his side a small parcel wrapped in linen. Unraveling it revealed a worn spearhead, rusted and blunt from age. But despite its decrepit appearance, it held an air of strength and nobility. There was no doubt in his mind when he set eyes upon it - this was exactly what he was looking for. An artifact of a hero long dead, a nexus of immeasurable power to the right mage.

"Is that it, then?" The woman to his side, his elder sister Maria, looked upon the old spearhead with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. "Yes. I know what you're thinking, Maria, and you know it's for the best you don't know what it is." Clay placed the artifact in the center of the circle, careful to not disturb any of the lines drawn within. This was it - all that remained doing was to recite the spell. Clay had spent years reading and reciting the ritual - he could do it backwards, if needed - but that didn't blunt the feeling of apprehension welling up in his stomach. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to steady his nerves. If he failed here, the Marks family wouldn't get another chance for who knows how long...

"Clay, you're shaking." Looking down to his arms, he saw his sister was right - his arms where trembling, as though they where exposed to biting cold. "I'm fine." The concern on Maria's face turned to a frown. She knew her little brother better than anyone - and they couldn't afford doubt, not when the war was set to start. "Clay, if there was anybody in our family qualified to do it, it'd be you."

Clay couldn't help but give a nervous chuckle at her words of encouragement. "I know. That's what concerns me."

He turned to the ritual circle. Taking in a deep breath, he began the ritual. "Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill! Repeat five times. But destroy each when filled." Clay could feel the prana drain from his body as he finished the first line, confirming its accuracy. He gritted his teeth and continued.

"A base of silver and steel. A foundation of stone and the Archduke of Contracts. And my ancestor, my great master, Schweinorg. A wall to block the falling wind. The gates of all four directions close. From the Crown, come forth and follow the forked road to the Kingdom." The air around him started to buzz, as though it where liable to release a bolt of lightning at any moment. He could feel the circle start to fill with power, its many shapes oscillating with current...

"I hereby propose: My will shall create thy body, and thy sword shall create my fate. Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail, if thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me!" He registered a sharp pain in his right arm, but paid it little heed. For the spell to work, his concentration had to be absolute. He continued, the apprehension in his voice slowly being replaced by determination.

"I hereby swear, I will be all that is good in the eternal world. I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world." Extending his right hand towards the now glowing circle, he braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of power. 'Home stretch, Clay. Make it count...'

"Thou, clad with the great Trinity, come forth from the circle of constraint. Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!"

A blinding flash of light forced Clay to look away, his legs nearly giving out from the stress of the spell. He gasped for breath, but kept his focus - even now, a single errant thought could ruin the ritual. He forced himself to stand, straight and tall - if he where to summon a Servant, he would meet it with dignity.

The light from the ritual started to fade, and Clay started to see the outline of a man. A beast of a specimen, standing a full head taller than himself and with a build to match.

Then, the shape spoke, with a voice loud and confident.

"I ask you..."

The last of the light faded, revealing the man's features. Clay, despite his otherwise stoic posture, couldn't help but crack a smile. This man was exactly the Servant he intended to summon - a peerless warrior, a hero long since passed.

His Servant.

"Are you my master?"

"I am... Rider. You may call me Clay."

 

[Redryhno]

"Our enemies are older than me, and more experienced. And frankly, I know your name but little of your deeds. Your legend is a footnote compared to past combatants, and likely our opponents as well."

Saber smiled a little smile, he may not be the most prolific of the Servants gathered, but he had been underestimated many times before. Then he reached up and ran his fingers through his beard once more,"What color would you prefer it to be? And how shaved do you wish me to be? We didn't wear these simply to look better than everyone else, it is the Winter, is it not?"

 

[Fishtie]

Sophie Topfer listened silently to the priest. She had to concentrate quite hard on him just to keep up and as it was she felt she still missed every 5th word. Still, she understood clearly enough and almost felt a chuckle slip out when he said she should protect her servant. Stealing a quick glance at the broad shouldered shirtless man beside her she found it a little absurd that she might be expected to protect him.

As the others began to file out she looked up at her companion more fully. "Please give me a moment." She requested with a small smile. Unlike the priest her Japanese was haltered and shifty; overly formal like someone who was still trying to work out what the words really meant. Waiting a moment and seeing no objection she silently folded her hands and lowered her head in prayer.

After a short time she finished and turned around to leave. "Thank you, we should go now." With that she exited the cathedral, assuming that her servant would follow. Waking through the dark streets she clutched her jacket tighter around herself, away from the holy building the cold night air cut much deeper. It was a chilling reminder of how alien this land really was. Sophie had spent the day in the city as well and had found the busy streets and bright colors enchanting, amazing really; but at night the strange buildings seemed to hem her in at every turn, reminding her just how alone and far from home she really was.

Well, not really alone...

"[So, I already arranged for a pair of beds in a hostel near Miyamachou for as long as we're here.]" She said to her servant. Now that they were away from the others Sophie had quickly slipped into her native German. Sophie wasn't exactly sure how her companion would respond to that, but considering what his title was she wasn't exactly sure how he would respond to anything; or if he even would respond.

Without stopping her moderately fast walking pace she continued, "[It may be a little cramped and it will be full of normal people, but it will probably be able to work out if we keep our heads down. First thing we have to do now is check in, then get some shut eye. We can't work if we're too tired. Then, in the morning we can start to get the lay of the land, get to know where everything is. Then... after that...]" Sophie's words sputtered to a stop though her steps only slowed a little bit.

"[Then... then we can...]" Then she came to a complete stop as her situation really caught up to her. She had no plans any more, no ideas of what to do next. Sophie didn't have a real desire, she didn't know much about fighting, she didn't know why she had been chosen for this.

 

[HellsingerAngel]

Within a bright flash of energy a hero had been reborn straight from the storybooks of legends. His spirit clutched from beyond this world and torn back, molded into a form familiar to his first life as a grand warrior from a romantic age of conquest. His body sculpted to be the epitome of his legend; his mind sharper than the edge of a blade, filled with knowledge of the world today. The grail had improved upon everything it could and retained all that was impossible to improve - which in the case of this warrior were qualities very few and far between.

As the star burst of light faded into the otherwise calm in the shadowed halls of the library, a silhouette stood amongst the heavy smoke that enveloped the ritual circle. His presence filled the room with an air of authority and power that was befitting of his stature, both literally and figuratively. As the smoke cleared the purple dress the hero adorned himself in was becoming visible, as well as the golden tip of a massive halberd clenched tightly in his right hand. His eyes darted between a man shaking uncontrollably to a cool and firm woman. A small grunt escaped his lips as he flexed his new muscles, feeling a tension in them. And then the question...

"I ask you...are you my Master?"

"I am... Rider. You may call me Clay."

"I may call you what you are, peasant!" he boomed, his voice shaking the very room with his authority. He even went as far as to flourish his halberd before pointing it directly at Clay.

Rider's eyes narrowed in annoyance with the petty man's proclamation. He was of the warrior caste not to be ruled by some commoner. With the matter of his opinion settled, the giant marched forwards, easily batting the man known as Clay aside with the strength of a hundred men. As he approached the collected woman, he knew that there had been a mistake. He dropped to both knees just in front of the woman, taking he hand and brushing his lips against the back of it, though not explicitly kissing it, as was only proper.

"Only one with beauty such as yourself could possibly hope to sway and direct the fiery passions of a warrior's soul," he whispered in a voice that he knew would still carry over to Clay. "I am yours to command, my Master." Then the man skillfully came to his feet in one fluid motion, hefting his halberd high pointing skyward with one hand, wrapping his free arm around the woman's waist and tucking her snugging against his body. "We shall conquer all that is laid before us," he proclaimed, "and all shall fear our names as Emperor and Empress of this world, my love!" The laugh that followed almost seems stereotypically maniacal and if the giant had a mustache you could bet he would have been twirling it.

Straight from a storybook indeed...

 

[Shadowstar38]

The Berserker hung on every work from the priest's mouth. The rules of engagement were always the most important part of battle next to knowing your blade. Though, aside from simply staying discrete, there didn't seem to be much restricting them. That's exactly how he liked it.

When his Master had ordered it, Berserker followed her out of the church and into the darkened streets. This was the first he really got a good measure of the woman. Female warriors could work just fine, but this one didn't look like she was up to the task. Only time would tell if she would actually be of use. He zoned out for a moment as she began rattling off directions in a straight-forward manner. Then a change caught his ear.

"[Then... then we can...]"

What was this? Confusion? Uncertainty? Either way, Berserker couldn't have his master feeling lost when she was the one in charge. He thought it not out of line to put forth a suggestion.

"Maybe we can invite one of the other Masters and Servants to lunch tomorrow. I'm probably going to be hungry as hell by then"

He said this as though it was just regular conversation. He wondered how she'd react. At the least it would be interesting.

 

[CJ1145]

"What color would you prefer it to be? And how shaved do you wish me to be? We didn't wear these simply to look better than everyone else, it is the Winter, is it not?"

So that's your question then? You're an interesting one, Sir...

"I suppose it is." Dirk relented, a barest hint of a smile curling at the tips of his lips. Even now, white puffs of warm breath were flowing from his mouth, quietly living out a contained, minuscule existence before he stepped forward and through them, scattering their remains to the four winds. "I would prefer it black, or possibly brown. Natural colors for a local. As for the beard, I think you can keep the coverage, just make it about half its current length. We need you to look like you belong here."

Dirk was silent for the rest of the trip, as they diligently marched through the suburban section of Fuyuki. He led his Servant down the main street, straight off of the bridge. The buildings were clustered, but this late at night their inviting signs had grown cold and dark. They were truly alone this night. After what had to be more than ten minutes of wandering down this surreal, lifeless imitation of a city, he cut across the street and took a left, leading them out of the confined spaces of the city's center. Rolling green hills could be spotted in the muted distance, and beyond it forests rising up against the side of mountains. They passed house after house, Dirk silently reading each street sign.

I've never needed to analyze an entire city's map before. It should prove an interesting challenge... for a while.

As they reached the next intersection, Dirk held a hand out to stop, and deftly pointed to the right. "We're almost there."

They turned onto this new street, where the world had stopped still. A few lights, golden sentinels against encroaching darkness squatted in the windows of stout old homes. The only one that was completely dark was where Dirk stopped.

"This is it." he announced. The old place seemed to welcome them in its shadowy embrace as they approached the front door.

Strange, thinking that I'm leaving. I won't be back anywhere I can call home for a while. Maybe ever.

He bit his lip, hoping Saber wasn't much of a face reader.

No. Those thoughts breed failure. You will kill them all, and claim your prize.

Dirk slipped a key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He led his Servant into the kitchen, relatively small, spotless and serviceable. He flipped on a light, and ducked down, opening up cupboards in search of something. As he did, a hand idly gestures to nothing in particular, though seeming to be meant as an accompaniment to Saber's orders.

"The house is simple, two-story deal and that's it. Go upstairs, inside the hall closet are some blankets and bedrolls. Take them, and set them down in the sitting room across the hall here. At the end of that same hall upstairs there's a library, I want you to go in there and gather up every book you can find that might help me learn magic faster. I'll be--"

"Dirk?"


A groggy-sounding voice called from the other side of the kitchen, and Dirk poked his head back out from the cupboard to see his father, who frankly looks nothing like him. His olive-toned face had a five o'clock shadow, specifically the kind that never seemed to go away. His eyes were squinted and lined, indicating little sleep. His nose was curved upwards at the tip, but sank in towards his face at the middle of the bridge, before leveling out at the very top, between his thick black eyebrows. His hair was scruffy, spiky and all-around unkempt, and he was dressed in a baby blue bathrobe and pink slippers.

The old man yawned and asked, "What are you doing up so l--"

It was then that he saw Saber. Mr. Orihara tried to swallow, but it caught in his throat, and he choked in surprise for a moment, his eyes opening wider than they had been before. They were a deep brown, which seemed like an especially good color for showing fear--incidentally, the precise emotion he was experiencing.

Dirk understood what seeing Saber meant to him. It was the final nail in the coffin, that all his years of desperately sheltering his son from this grim fate... had truly amounted to nothing.

For a brief moment, Mr. Orihara's emotion faltered, but he rebounded and adopted stoic grace as he bowed before Saber. "Welcome to our household, esteemed guest. I pray you find everything well."

Dirk shared one look with his father, before waving Saber away and to his task. As he left, Dirk punctuated the meeting with "There should be duffel bags in the hall closet, for storing the books. Bring any you didn't use down here."

His father bent down and helped lift Dirk up to his feet, dusting a little imaginary grime from his coat and trying his best at a proud smile. He was failing. "I knew where you were going tonight, I just never... seeing the Servant in person just makes it so very real."

Orihara took a brief moment to hug his son, patting him on the back as he did. He sniffed in a deep breath, the kind perfect for stifling tears, before grabbing Dirk's shoulders and pushing him to arm's length. He nodded once, and asked "You're leaving tonight then?"

"I am."

"I'll help you pack."

Mr. Orihara left briefly, returning with a cooler full of ice. "You'll need plenty of food, and I expect you to eat well. You already have enough money to last two or three months, right?"

"Right."

"Good. Good."

Dirk opened up the fridge, and with his father began to pack away a supply of food into the cooler.

 

[Redryhno]

I want you to go in there and gather up every book you can find that might help me learn magic faster. I'll be--"

Saber nodded and left the father and son alone, probably because of him, given the look Dirk's father had given Saber. He followed the directions to the library and although he had the knowledge in him of these libraries since his summoning, he still could help but stand in wonder at the massive amounts of books, there must have been dozens upon dozens of volumes, and they were all so....well-kept.

For a man from a time when even the nobles owned less than a dozen books, and the rest were in the care of the church, such a large room dedicated to simply holding books was a marvel. He took off his gloves, put them into a pocket, and ran his fingers across the spines of a few of them before looking at the titles. Saber took a few off the shelf and thumbed through them before either setting them down or replacing them on the shelves.

Finishing that task with some of the volumes, a few of them probably not what Dirk had in mind, but he wasn't a Caster, though he'd spent many years in Turkish, Moorish, and Middle Eastern culture in his first life, so he knew of some magic, even if it wasn't his field. He arrived back in the kitchen, where Dirk was, his father nowhere in sight. He set the books down on the table and spoke again.

"Would you prefer I shaved here, or leave now? Matters concerning the family are hard I know. I'm unsure if any of my descendents even survived the last centuries."

His gloves he put back on his hands, pulling them until the leather began to cut into the space between his fingers. The books held underneath his other hand.

 

[Arcanist]

"I may call you what you are, peasant!

Rider flourished his halberd with a dramatic twirl before making a point to set it mere inches from Clay's face. The stress of the summoning spell ebbing from this body, Clay could feel the shaking die down, replaced now with annoyance. 'This is the spirit I meant to summon, alright. Confidence is all well and good, but we'll need to tone down the arrogance before it gets us killed.'

"No. I am your Master. I'm doing you a service, fool - I could use a command spell to order you to obey me like a dog, should I wish. But we have more important things to do - so swallow your sodding pride. Cunning will win the Grail, not arrogance." Clay steadied himself fully, his posture firm. He made a point of keeping eye contact with Rider - he could afford to show no weakness.

Rider, sneering at this, instead knelt before Maria. "Only one with beauty such as yourself could possibly hope to sway and direct the fiery passions of a warrior's soul. I am yours to command, my master." Maria gave Clay a brief, annoyed glance before turning back to the Servant. "I don't know who you think you are, spirit, but you WILL show my little brother some respect."

 

[Ruedyn]

Mordecai noted assassin was chatty. He smiled slightly, despite the true nature of their conversation, at the irony of that. The blood on his hands worried him, but he remembered that he was the only one that could see him. Which meant he was just having a conversation with what appeared to the locals to be air. He rubbed the back of his head again, looking around for people. None. He sighed, and regarded his partner/servant,
"Might as well find this hotel. If we stay there for awhile, we can probably avoid straight up fights. Daytime travel would be best as well." He took to deep thought, strategies floating through his brain at high speeds. He made a motion for Assassin to lead him there.

 

[Fishtie]

"Maybe we can invite one of the other Masters and Servants to lunch tomorrow. I'm probably going to be hungry as hell by then"

Sophie was flabbergasted by Berserker's sugestion and could only blink at him in stunned silence. True, she hadn't known exactly what to expect, but that kind of thing hadn't even entered into her wildest speculation. But then again, why couldn't they do that? It was as good an idea as Sophie could come up with, which was nothing. Besides, perhaps she could even talk to one of the other competitors. If she could find out a little bit about them and why they were here it might help her figure some things out.

Sophie couldn't help but let a big smile spread on her face. "[Yeah, that might just be a good idea.]" Sophie could barely contain a happy chuckle at the thought of a friendly lunch with one of her new enemies. It was good to have some kind of direction again. "[Thank you.]" She said before starting off again with her previous spring restored. "[We'd best not stay up too late, we have an early morning ahead of us.]"

Perhaps this could work out after all. At least Sophie considered that she wasn't quite as alone as she once thought.