"Why yes, um, it must be such, er, an honour to, m-m-m-meet someone such as myself! Of course!"
Clay cocked an eyebrow at this unusual response. Rider showing anything but utter confidence? How uncharacteristic. It was almost as if he where a schoolboy seeing his first... crush...
'Fuck.'
Clay silently cursed to himself, his teeth grinding together in displeasure. He'd gotten his wish - with Diana's cooperation, Rider shouldn't be too difficult to control. But at the cost of involving his family even further with the Grail War... looking over his sister, he saw her exhibiting behavior similar to Rider's - her face flushed, averting her gaze with an embarrassed expression. His better judgement told him to leverage this opportunity - Diana's an adult, after all, she can take care of herself - but his pride as her older brother made it a hard pill to swallow.
Shaking off his displeasure at this turn of events, he strode over to the bags Diana dropped and started rooting through them. 'Powdered silver, diatomaceous earth, leadened charcoal, a coil of copper and gold wire... yes, it's all here. Excellent.' He loaded the reagents into his satchel and turned to Rider, his gaze hardened. "Rider. Night will be falling shortly. Prepare yourself to leave within the hour. And Diana," he said, turning to his younger sister, his expression softening, "Please, stay here. This is my battle to fight."
"Rider. Night will be falling shortly. Prepare yourself to leave within the hour."
Rider snapped back to reality at the mention of finally heading towards battle. His eyes flickered with fiery passion, reflecting the bright flame in the fireplace perfectly. His soul was ablaze at the prospect of finally being able to unsheathe his blade. A stern look replaced his boyish embarrassment as he turned his head to return Clay's stare. A simple nod was all he gave. It was all that was needed. And so Rider left, turning bashful once more as he waved a cute goodbye to Diana, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand before going off to make preparations of his own.
* * *
It was exactly 17:00 when Clay shut the door connecting the garage to the manor. Though the lightless room did everything to conceal his less than faithful servant, he could sense the presence of Rider within. His fingers lightly rapped across the light switch and the garage was flooded with a florescent glow. Rider shielded his eyes for a moment before facing the mage, his look dead serious for a brief moment before that smug smirk crossed it once again. Though he tried to hide it, it was apparent that Rider was eager to do what he did best.
"A little ostentatious for a drive, don't you think?" Clay remarked, looking over his servant still within his battle armour.
The Heroic Spirit had yet to change out of his battle regalia since he had been summoned to this age. It was a mark of pride, not comfort, that had kept Rider in his robes and armour. He was a warrior about to ride into battle and only the best would do if he were to be facing opponents as skilled and infamous as himself. However, it had been explained to him multiple times that this war he was about to conduct would need to remain secret from the commoners of Fuyuki. While he was not terribly afraid of this association of sorcerers and soothsayers, the repercussions for disobeying the rules seemed terribly inconvenient.
"I suppose you are correct," Rider commented. He then stretched out his right arm to his side and snapped his fingers. The armour quickly dispersed into golden sparkles of mana to reveal a clean cut purple collared shirt, a pair of black pants and a pair of black gucci driving shoes. "Is this more appropriate to be consorting with peasants?"
Clay, once again, ignored Rider's imaginary pedestal and motioned for his servant to follow. The pair walked to the opposite end of the three car garage to stop in front of a beautifully crafted Aston Martin convertible. The car was a simple royal purple finish with a red horse racing across each side of the car as an honourific for his chosen class of servant. Knowing the class he would summon gave Clay the idea to bring a little bit of home over to Fuyuki in hopes of placating his servant's more brutish and haughty outbursts, though he wasn't much in the giving mood at the moment after what had transpired thus far. Rider, on the other hand, was too busy marveling over the sheer beauty of the car. Even having been born thousands of years ago, he could appreciate the fine craftsmanship of modern technology, especially in the area of transportation. His composure almost matched that of when he had first laid eyes on Diana. Almost.
"I was going to let you have this little present if you had behaved, but..." Clay remarked, ending the statement with a casual shrug. Rider looked at him with the sourest of expressions, as if his master had threatened to take away the air he breathed itself. Clay smiled to himself as he tossed the keys to the hero, realizing how simple it was to wrap him around his finger with a few bribes.
Rider was too ecstatic to pay any mind to Clay's self-satisfaction as he caught the keys while simultaneously hopping from the passenger's side door to the driver's seat. He landed snugly on the red leather interior and shifted in his seat for a moment before resting his right hand around the steering wheel. Suddenly the hero was bombarded with information pertaining the the car. Everything from limitations to complete interior specifications were burned into his memory in an instant. The experience left Rider a bit dazed as he closed his eyes tight and re-opened them. Then that cocky smile curled up onto his lips again as the key turned the ignition and the car roared into life.
Clay slid into the passenger's seat far less like a roughian and more like a normal human being. The Heroic Spirit was enjoying the sheer power of the machine as Clay hurried to strap himself in, not able to do so quickly enough with how vigourously Rider was revving the engine. As Clay nodded to Rider to signal he was ready, the servant took out a pair of aviator sunglasses with golden frames and slid them onto his face. The car then peeled out, Rider riding the clutch heavy as his smirk turned to an outright grin of delight. Then he shifted the car and the car surged forwards at an incredible speed, far beyond anything Clay thought possible out of the car. Rider's handling was flawless, however, and the vehicle moved as naturally as if it were crawling in his hands. As night began to settle upon Fuyuki, the pair sped off towards the bridge linking Shinto and Miyama in search of their first battle.
Lancer took a few breaths as his eyes listlessly wandered around the surrounding trees and structures. The chill that filled the air would have bit at his throat and lungs, had he still been human, but as a Spirit he hardly felt the cold; he knew it was there, but it did nothing to hinder his movements or impede his blood-flow. Its only effect was to crystallize his breath, turning the vapor into so many tiny shards of ice. Pretty, he supposed, but otherwise quite useless.
Now Ilene and Micheal, he mused, would likely be much more susceptible to the evening chill. When he had last seen them a quarter of an hour ago, he had noticed his young Master shivering quite a bit... though, in hindsight, that could just be because of her excitement. Heh, whatever the cause, undoubtedly she was being cared for by her guardian; there was no way the old man would let his charge die of cold.
Sighing, the Servant scanned his surroundings once again, hoping against hope that the monotonous scenery would have changed somewhat in the past few minutes. He knew that his Master's strategy made sense, using himself as bait to lure out other Servants and Masters while she hung back to offer support, but damn if it wasn't boring! He'd already been standing out in the middle of this deserted park, still dressed in his modern clothes, for close to half an hour, and had yet to see hide or hair of anyone else! Chewing on his bottom lip, Lancer grumbled to himself for a few minutes, seriously considering marching over to his Master's hiding spot and demanding that they go search somewhere else.
No... She'd probably just get mad at him, possibly even using a Command Spell to make him comply. He may not have liked it, but staying here and simply waiting was probably the best course of action, at least for the moment.
Mordecai had made a pile of discarded pepperonis, and polished off a pizza. He felt like a glutton, and decided to wander around town, perhaps go shopping or something. He opened the door and went on his way, casually waving to the receptionist. He kicked himself for not getting a rental car, though he might have caused suspicion when it comes back torn apart and melted through magic. He sighed, and walked towards the Shinto, or whatever the hell they called it. Perhaps his niece would like a Teddy bear? Mordecai checked his hand for his command spell thingies, all were there, and he walked onwards into the night.
"This may be nothing, but you may want to know it anyways...."
"Hashshashin..."
Dirk sat at the far end of the alcove, his eyes fixated on the crackling remnants of their fire. Saber sat to his right, the three o'clock position from the boy's point of view. Dirk had not chosen to sleep long. The night was still young, and opportunity called to him. However, he was thankful for the nap. He felt refreshed, even from such little rest, and was confident it would give him at least a small edge on this first night. But he had awoken to grim news. A faint feeling, perhaps only the whisper of a wind. Or perhaps it was more.
The most likely answer was that it was old memories playing tricks on the mind of his Servant. Dirk was well-read, and knew what the bearded man had encountered in his past life. And living in a world where magic was real, where entire generations of dozens of clans fought tooth and nail for mythical cup?
Words like "likely" went flying out the window.
"Of course, the first Servant we pull would be the one we can't detect."
Orihara rubbed his chin, focusing on the image of still orange embers. An Assassin may not be detected... but they may be fooled.
The teenager snapped his fingers suddenly, though his expression did not change. "We can get him out of the way. Simply, even. Here.."
Dirk opened a duffel bag, pulling out a spare set of clothes and handing them to Saber. The instructions were short, "Fray these, make them look like they're my only pair. Homeless, worn."
As his ally began to work on that, the Master then pulled a pair of black socks from the same bag, along with a small knife from his pocket. He pulled one of the socks over his hand, to test where his fingers rested, before removing it once more and going to work with his blade. He cut five small holes at the end of the sock, and then did the same to its twin. Not a minute had passed, and he had already created a serviceable--if unattractive--pair of gloves for himself. He slipped them on, and was handed his new set of homeless clothes by Saber.
"These should serve your purposes."
Dirk accepted them, changing quickly. This late in the year, the light was all but gone from Fuyuki city, and he would need to strain his eyes in a moment. He was already preparing himself, thinking over any clues that might be given at a Servant's presence.
He'll be hiding where no one has gathered. Unless he's visible. Then, he shall be within a crowd, or a frequently traveled spot. Look for the conspicuous one.
Once he had finished changing, he asked, "Does it look convincing?"
He was wearing a ragged pair of jeans, a hole exposing the back of his left calf. His shoes were so worn that the soles were all but scraped away. No less than two shirts, one long-sleeved covered him, and above that a gray hoodie with an entire sleeve eaten away by time and misfortune. The illusion was almost complete.
Dirk pulled a woolen, gray stocking cap over his head, with a tiny white smiley face fixed upon the center.
"Be on alert." Orihara whispered to his companion. "The Assassin may choose to strike earlier than I intend."
He took a deep breath. The image had to be perfect.
With slow, shambling steps, Dirk limped and crept out from his hiding place. His left leg was the damaged one, he had decided, and favored it heavily. Shivering, or at least appearing to shiver in the evening air, he worked his way to the river below the bridge. When he reached the edge of the water, he slowly shifted himself down to his knees. His left leg shook violently from the effort. He reached his hands out, safe inside of their gloves. Not even the slightest hint of the seals underneath the right glove were evident. His hands dipped into the river water, cupping up a mouthful and dragging it up to his face. He leaned back and up a bit, drinking in the water.
His eyes darted right as he drank. Everything on that side of the bridge, to be checked in only a couple of seconds.
Nothing.
He leaned back down, getting another sip.
He looked left this time. He could see a fountain on that side. The water was rippling silently in the dark, blue air. His eyes narrowed, and he focused on it. Something seemed... strange, in the ripples.
His vision blurred quickly, and he looked away. He hadn't been awake long, and was slow to rise from slumber. His eyes were likely playing tricks on him.
He took a few more sips, sating the thirst he wished to present, before struggling back to his feet. He nearly fell into the river from the effort. Turning around, he limped back up towards his hiding place. Not ten steps before he was out of sight, for just a brief moment, he lost the limp. He took a strong, obvious stride, but was back to his pained gait a moment later.
No need to make it obvious. I'm trying to hide... but I slipped up. I'm not as careful as I think I am.
Come and get me, you bastard.
Once he was back in the alcove, he stamped out the last embers of the fire, immediately reaching into his second duffel bag. Books, ingredients, anything he could think of to help was yanked out. He could barely make out the words on the yellow pages in such darkness, but his work required it. And it required him to do it quickly. "Stand back," he told Saber. "I need to make a circle."
He took a piece of chalk, quickly marking a circle about three feet in diameter, in the section just out of the alcove, where they had created the makeshift fire pit. He then made several markings, adjusting the magecraft to his needs.
Feed the prana in now... do it slowly. Don't overload it like the last time. No room for failure... none.
Dirk sat at the edge of the circle, charging his creation as he chanted words beneath his breath. As he did so, punctuating each word, he reached out to the edge of the alcove, marking a sigil into the dirt and fueling it.
"By divine will and sacred insight, lord of this castle, I stake my claim. None shall pass, lest I know. Bounded Field: Sentinel Aura."
When he was done, the barrier he had erected coated the entire entrance to the alcove. The sigils darkened, hidden from view. Dirk slowly backed away, until he was certain he was entirely out of sight again. He immediately moved away the signs of their camp, both the cooler and the bags, into a corner of the alcove, crouching alongside them and reaching within their contents. He whispered to Saber, on the opposite side.
"They have two options now: they may ignore us, and we shall be safe. Or they may come for us, we shall detect them..."
He drew his own blade from the bag, carefully unsheathing it and keeping it steady at his side. Even the weakest of Servants was stronger than he.
But I will NOT be unarmed in this war. They call me 'swordsman', and I shall not discredit that title...
"...and we shall kill them. If they pass that barrier, you shall hear a sound as if a rock were being skipped across the water. Follow the sound of their footsteps, then. And gut them."
Assassin was calmly waiting at the fountain. He hardly expected anyone to show up yet, but when they did, he would figure out who they were. He hoped that if another master and servant showed up that he could simply observe the fight and pick off both masters, netting an easy two removed early. Reality suddenly came crashing back in, what the hell was he doing? Assassin had already spilled enough blood, why even join this? Could the grail really fix anything anyway? What if it was just imaginary and this was all a clever ruse to trick him out of his pizza? What if they took his pizza? What if the pizza wasn't pepperoni?
Assassin's tangent was suddenly broken by an even more shocking development than a mismatched pizza order. As he had walked closer to the bridge he had felt the presence get stronger, thus he had assumed they were somewhere near, but then one of them stuck their head out and stared at him for a few seconds. The Haunting Guise was never perfect, but Assassin was surprised it was seen through so easily. Either way, the presence wasn't that of a servant. Assassin almost dismissed the thought when something crazy popped in his head. What if that was the master?
"No way." Assassin let a small whisper eek out and quickly be consumed by the surrounding darkness, even a highly trained dog would have missed the whisper it was so quiet, but Assassin heard it. The killer immediately threw his crimson stained hands over his mouth, this had never happened before. Whenever he was on a mission, he always remained dead silent, this however, the sheer stupidity put out by this group almost made him burst out in laughter. The master instead of hiding himself, went to the most wide open and traveled place in the city. Was he not aware that at some point someone would find him? What if it really was just a hobo? Assassin shook his head and stood up. His shoes were made for moving silently and he was more than capable of using them to their full potential. The robed stalker crept up to the bridge and quickly eyed where he had seen the man.
Picking out where people were hiding was one of the first skills he had picked up in his line of work. It was especially important when one considers the secondary effect of his phantasm gives him the power to walk through walls and other objects. He remembered his first kill with the Haunting Guise. A poor old fool who had skimped out on debts. Assassin used to love killing, but now it just reminded him of his past. This wasn't the time to reminisce about old times passed however, now he had to focus. The spot was marked in his vision, a light post was slightly further, its glow providing one of the few lights on the bridge. Assassin gripped his gladius, unsheathing it and preparing it for a singular strike. He jumped right at the spot and phased right through the bridge, anyone who could have possibly seen through his disguise would have sworn he was a ghost.
Stone after stone flew by at what seemed to be lightning speed. The experience lasted for less than a second and Assassin was soon in the darkness of the bridge's underside. The robed figure landed silently on the flooring, just as a ghost would and looked around. Close to him was the master, further away was undoubtedly the servant. The robed figure almost reconsidered when he noticed that the servant was a saber. Any mistakes would almost certainly be fatal, but then he noticed the runes at the entrance, they might be overconfident with those around. Assassin looked down at Dirk and threw himself down at the man gladius pointing out. The strike was aimed directly at the master's neck.
Dirk sat in silence with his Servant. He could barely stand the pressure eating at him. Actually, no. Not pressure. Excitement. Something tugged at the edge of his lips, for the briefest instant. He'd almost wanted to smile.
What will you do, Master Assassin? Will you take my bait, or keep your distance?... Or will you find a way through?
The question was so exciting, he could barely contain himself. For the next few moments, Orihara had absolutely no idea how events would play out.
The time passed slowly, his eyes retaining their focus, and his breath controlled to the quietest of sounds. His vision settled on the Field he had established.
A sound, faint as the whispering of the wind hit the air. It wasn't the sound of his field. But it did not sit well to the young master. Don't panic, stay still.
His eyes, slowly, scanned the space between he and Saber. Something deeply upset his gut. A patch of grass, specifically.
Something looks odd... grass doesn't fall that way. Was I sitting there?
Without the slightest noise, the grass stood up once more. Whatever had been pressing it down had moved. Dirk's eyes bugged out, and his muscles clenched.
Shit!
"GRADATION AIR!"
Dirk's empty right hand seemed to pulsate in white, as the air itself coagulated around it. A German Katzbalger, within the instant, was held tightly in his grasp. Grunting as he put his full exertion into the strike, Dirk leaned left and away from what he hoped was an incoming blow. His blade hissed as it cut up from Dirk's waist, and mid-air struck Assassin's unseen Gladius.
Orihara was a mere human, and the Assassin was a heroic spirit. Many times beyond his strength.
But battle isn't ABOUT strength.
The Katzbalger shattered, its weak composition no match for a blade such as that. But the blow was diverted, all the same, ripping along and down Dirk's right sleeve.
Orihara was determined to get away from him, and seeing what he believed was an opening, he rolled forward. The cold dirt was hard on him, and he felt his skin--unused to combat--bruising on the hard impact. He ended by his Servant's side, turning back in the direction of his previous position. He clutched his blade tightly.
"Saber!" he called, his nerves not reflected in his calm voice. "He's here! Watch the grass!"
"Yes,"Was all the answer Saber gave as he reached inside his coat and pulled forth his sword, a giant thing, many hands long, with a single blemish on the blade, straight across, four inches from the hilt, the man stood with it in his hands a moment before closing his eyes. They would deceive him in this fight, just as they had before. The sound of Dirk's breathing behind him was causing problems though.
"Calm yourself, young Lord,"He whispered, barely audible,"'Tis only an Assassin"
They both knew how dangerous they could be, but this one had made his presence known quite early and had failed to kill either of them.
"Leave now or surrender friend,"Saber continued to speak barely audibly, "Your invisibility is not as useful in this venue as you would think. Look around you, surrounded by water and grass, above you a bridge, and nowhere to go. You picked the wrong place to make yourself known."
His eyes still closed, he heard the grass to his left crunch with the cold, and swung his sword, from right to left, at a downward angle, where he used his great strength to stop it and instead kicked out. He felt the impact of flesh, though if his plan to knock this Assassin into the water worked or not, he was unsure.
The bastard had a defensive mystic code. It seemed he was prepared for everything including a nuclear apocalypse. Assassin quickly backed up and yelled "Haunting Guise." Becoming invisible and ethereal at the same time. Saber made a slash at him, cleverly following the grass footprints being made. Assassin saw no hint of a phantasm and allowed the saber to run right through him. Using the advantage of time, he quickly turned around and reached into his left tunic pocket. He could feel the hilt of his infamous blade.
This was the blade that did it. The blade that had set his whole life into motion, brought him here. Assassin could feel his red hands oozing blood, returning to liquid as he wielded its cold iron grips. The knife was too short to be fatal in most cases, but that wasn't the point. The blade glowed a crimson fury as Assassin deactivated his guise and lunged at Saber's back yelling "Emperor's Bane!"
Known Phantasms: Haunting Guise: Assassin cloaks himself in a mantle of lies and deceit, masking his presence from all else. He becomes invisible to the naked eye and can pass through solid objects with ease.
Saber:
Str: A End: A Agi: B Man: B+ Luk: C
Known Phantasms:
After taking an instant to steady himself, Assassin lashed out, his blade drawn and lusting for blood. At such close range, missing was out of the question; Dirk's neck would soon be opened, his lifeblood whetting the gladius' appetite. With precise, almost perfect timing, Haunting Guise fell away, bringing both Assassin and his sword into blessed solidarity.
"GRADATION AIR!"
What?! Tch... The boy was good, Assassin had to give him that. Somehow, Dirk had sensed the incoming attack and managed to block the worst of it. The Magus' weapon, hardly a strong looking thing, shattered upon impact with Assassin's, but it served its purpose. The lad's neck remained whole and unharmed, though he was not entirely undamaged; a long red line ran down the length of his arm, the crimson fluid that seeped from the wound further staining his already ragged clothes.
But such a wound was hardly debilitating, and Assassin bit back a curse as his target rolled to his feet. Dirk's shout had done more than just assure his defense; Saber had heard his Master's cry, and was already moving to defend him. In a flash, the Servant stood between Assassin and Dirk, blade drawn and senses focused on tracking down his opponent.
There was no way he could possibly win in a straight fight, not against a Knight class. Falling back as fast as he could, Assassin prepared to fall back into the protective embrace of his Guise... But not fast enough. Saber's foot, traveling at a speed far beyond anything a human could emulate, slammed into his side like a freight train. The blow shook Assassin to his core, hurling the Servant back a few paces and sending pain flaring across his body.
The pain may not have been ideal, but at least Saber's attack had put quite a bit of distance between them. Assassin didn't waste an instant, shifting back into his invisible, ethereal form as fast as he could. One second, he was there, wincing in pain. The next, Saber found himself staring at empty space, with no sign of his foe.
Taking a moment to allow the pain to fade, Assassin glared at his foes, reflexively clutching at his side. Hmmph. If they thought a blow like this would be enough to stop a warrior of his caliber, then they were sadly mistaken. This was nothing, nothing to a man like him.
When he had recovered, Assassin carefully stepped forward, hardly making a sound as he brushed over the gravel and grass underfoot. Dirk, though he may be a skilled mage, was clearly no soldier; even now Assassin could hear the boy's pained breaths. His wound may not be particularly lethal, but apparently it was still quite painful. By patiently waiting, Assassin was able to mask his footsteps with the mage's panting, and in a matter of moments he stood between Master and Servant.
Hmm... He could take a chance and attack Dirk once more, or he could use this opportunity to try and get the drop on Saber. What to do, what to do...
The Servant. If Saber fell or became incapacitated, then he could finish off Dirk with ease.
As he slashed out with his blade, Assassin's Haunting Guise fell away once more, revealing the man and his gladius, which gleamed with a crimson light. "Emperor's Bane!"
The battle was flowing at a frantic pace. Dirk was not a stranger to combat, but he was only a whelp. Never before had he fought for anything but sport, and the blood that sighed from his wounds was a fresh experience. He almost relished it. This was new, this was good. An opponent who could hurt him.
This war... may have been more than I could ever have wished for.
But that mattered little now. The Assassin had appeared once more, directly between Dirk and his Servant. And the Noble Phantasm was hard to miss in his hand. Orihara steeled himself. Kendo training. You are Kenshi. Show it.
With the Spirit's back turned, it was hardly an opportunity that could be passed up. Shouting at the top of his voice, lined with gravel from pain, he called out a warning. "Behind you!"
At the same moment he ducked, his unscratched arm clutching a blade. His pocket knife. I've never tried this on something so urgent. Please, work...
He thought of his blade, and its components. The metal, the steel, the grip, and the bolt that held it all together. He had possessed it for years. He knew how comfortable it felt in his grip. The blade was sharp, not sharp enough. He could fix that.
"Reinforcement..."
Prana fed the blade. What once was dull became like a razor. What once was weakly hinged, and liable to snap, became supple and strong. Would it be enough? Dirk hoped desperately that it would be.
Assassin, become the assassinated!
Lunging from the ground, Dirk roared as he drove his knife upwards towards Assassin's spine.
Mordecai felt... odd, enough so to stop mid gait, stumbling over himself ever so slightly. Assassin was in trouble, of what kind he was unsure. Mordecai took boxing for pehaps a week or two before this, but he knew damn well going against a servant would be suicide. He couldn't die, not yet. He sighed, and broke into a jog, hoping to get there before anything truly bad happened to his comrade. 'Why must I worry? He can take care of himself.' And he knew this for a fact, fame equals power as far as his books told him. And damn was Assassin famous. Still, it could be something stronger than him, a saber, or a lancer. Or an archer, that one would be the worst. Worst thing would have no master to take out while Assassin was down. Mordecai checked his pocket, his surgeons scalpel still there. Not the most effective, but it'd work as far as slicing up his fellow man was concerned.
He needed to stop thinking about his enemies that way, it made war harder. He afforded a few thoughts to how the Allies thought of the nazis. They were evil, though they didn't know to what extent. He supposed he felt this way, kind of. Not really, but hey, thoughts were going through his mind too quickly to judge himself. He sped up, he didn't want to be there early though. That would be worse than not going.
Saber did what he could to block or direct the strike away from him as he turned, but it was in vain. The two blades sparked and the gladius ran down the length of the greatsword, and skipped on the blade's blemish, carrying the weapon into Saber. Luckily, his beard caught the blade slightly, angling it into his shoulder instead of his heart. Pain blossomed as the weapon was pulled out, a chunk of beard brought back with the archaic weapon.
"Kin Guard. By the grace of God, I call for your aid in my quest for the Grail."
The blemish on Saber's blade brightened enough to rival the sun in brilliance for a moment before four lights, each slightly dimmer than the next shot out from it and gathered around Assassin, Saber, and Dirk, who was currently lunging for the Assassin's back with...a penknife?
Time slowed down and the four lights became two men, and a women, all armored from head to foot, each geared differently. The tallest of them wore his hair short and light, sword and shield in his hand, in a stance ready to fight, his cousin. The next was the woman, looking remarkably like Saber himself, but much shorter and not as built, his daughter, the once empress of a great land, herself wielding a hammer with a wicked spike and hook on the back. Next was his cousin's son, axe and shield, again looking much like the tallest and broadest of them. Each had a slight outline of light around them, and were the slightest bit transparent, but looked solid and moved the same as the other three "real" people there. And all four struck as one at Assassin, cutting off any escape he should have.
Saber stabbed straight towards Assassin, his cousin beginning to slice downwards as the once king began his extension, his daughter's hammer whistling through the air at his legs, again staggered with the cousin's strike, then with the axe-wielding cousin's son attempting to take the man's head finally, and Saber was already back and waited for him to dodge all of the blows, just in time to line up with Dirk's desperate lunge and his own thrust into the Asassin's chest and heart.
Known Phantasms: Haunting Guise: Assassin cloaks himself in a mantle of lies and deceit, masking his presence from all else. He becomes invisible to the naked eye and can pass through solid objects with ease.
Emperor's Bane: Assassin's blade glows a brilliant crimson, and gains the ability to paralyze anyone it even scratches. Though it does not have the strength to fully immobilize its target, Emperor's Bane makes escaping from Assassin all but impossible.
Saber:
Str: A End: A Agi: B Man: B+ Luk: C
Known Phantasms: Kin Guard: A light emanates from the golden hilt of Saber's sword, and a trio of after-images, all of them armor-clad knights, appears to fight by Saber's side. While they can't cause anywhere near as much damage, the spirits can still harass other Servants and block strikes against Saber.
Tick, went the hands of an imaginary clock.
There was a clash of steel against steel, the sound of flesh being torn and blood spurting forth. There was a flash of crimson light, followed by a blinding golden gleam.
Tock.
Dirk found himself hurtling backwards, bouncing off of the hard, rocky ground and into the icy cold waters of the Miongawa River. Gasping for the air, the boy staggered to his feet, his left hand clutching at his opposite, dislocated shoulder. Gods, Assassin's foot had just barely brushed him, and he was thrown this far back!? This was way beyond anything that was humanely possibly. What had he been thinking, trying to take down a Servant with just a pocketknife of all things!?
...Then again, it wasn't like his strategy had been for naught. Lowering his gaze, the Master stared at the blade still clutched in his right hand, its magically enhanced blade dripping with thick, scarlet blood. A Servant's blood. Assassin's blood.
Heh. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
[hr]
Assassin, meanwhile, found himself hanging from the underside of the bridge, his nimble fingers hooked onto one of the supports. Panting, the Servant took a second to take stock of himself and his surroundings as he clambered up, securing his feet for a better grip. Blood, only some of it his own, stained his robes, oozing forth from a sizable cut in his lower back and several smaller scratches on his arms and chest. His blade, still glowing a light crimson, was dripping with the liquid as well; Saber hadn't been fast enough to dodge the attack after all.
Still, the Knight-class' Noble Phantasm was proving to be quite troublesome. Turning his gaze downward, Assassin took a second to glare at the quartet of armored figures standing or kneeling on the ground below. If he was only going up against Saber, he could probably take him at this point, but with those other three fighters it was quite a different story. He had barely been able to dodge the worst of their attacks and escape to up here; going against them head on would be nothing short of suicide.
As he raged, Assassin's gaze fell across Dirk. The boy was truly an annoyance, first blocking his attack with a hastily summoned sword and then trying to harm him with a mere toy. Growling, the Servant clutched at the wound Dirk had dealt him. It might look bad to the untrained eye, but he knew that the cut was fairly shallow, even if it was bleeding heavily at the moment. Assassin had been hard pressed to escape Saber's Phantasm, but he had still managed to find time to pay back the lad for his scratch. All it took was a simple kick to send the Master bouncing off the ground and into the river.
Rrrrgh... Assassin knew that he had the high ground for now, but that probably wouldn't last for much longer.
[hr]
Saber gasped as he fell to his knees, a terrible numbness creeping throughout his body. Assassin's Phantasm, his Emperor's Bane, must have done this; apparently it didn't need to hit anything vital for it to be deadly. A small amount of blood seeped from his wounded shoulder, and his beard was in horrid disarray.
Still, the Servant reflected, things could have been worse. Apparently the paralysis did not keep him from activating his own Noble Phantasms, and he was currently defended by the ghosts of his most trusted allies. They were his to command; at an instant's notice they would leap to either attack Assassin or defend Dirk, he only had to speak the word.
Hopefully they'd be able to defeat or drive off Assassin soon. Already Saber could feel his mana reserves depleting as he maintained the spirits; there was no way he could keep them here forever.
Saber saw Lord Dirk kicked back into the water. He clutched at the wound in his shoulder, as the numbness seeped into his arm, causing him to lose grip of his sword, which he caught with his other hand as it fell, taking it off the wound. He already felt he was losing control of his entire body, he only had a few heartbeats before he became too slow to fight effectively.
"Cousin, fight, you two, defen-" he lost control of his tongue, but the three understood enough to do their parts. Saber's cousin threw his shield at the man hanging above them by his fingers, slamming into the man's fingers. The man then took up a position to fight. He had always been the best of them after all, Saber had simply been the most loyal to family and what the right thing to do was. And this was the right thing for the moment. The other two took their positions, one to guard Dirk, his daughter to guard him. He was having trouble standing now, but he kept a grip on his sword and willed himself to remain up, despite the wound in his shoulder, the paralysis threatening to crumble him every second if he let go of his concentration, and the threat to his charge's life.
Dirk spat a wad of saliva into the dirt, his heel rubbing it into the ground as he considered his position. Above, the Assassin was watching them. How he'd moved that fast, he wasn't sure... He had been certain that he'd caught the thing off guard.
The blood flowing down his blade, now dropped to the ground, assured him that he actually had. That was just the level a Servant fought at. He was out of his league.
At least, I'm certain they think so.
Dirk tenderly put a hand on his shoulder. He was useless with it like this. This would be the worst thing he'd done in a long time. And if he didn't do it right he'd just make it worse. He clenched his teeth, and...
"GYAAH!"
The arm was back in its place, but it wasn't particularly happy about it. Dirk was certain that he'd felt his joint warning him. Never try that again. He collapsed to his knees, from exhaustion. By appearances. He watched the Servant above, weighing his options. His right hand dipped into the water, letting the frigid liquid caress his skin. It felt refreshing. More refreshing than his drink had been. The taste of salt still lingered on his tongue.
This river connects to the ocean. Maybe not much, but just a little salt is all I need.
He looked towards his Servant. Saber was collapsed, unable to move as his guardians surrounded him. One of them was moving his way. As he came to his side, Dirk whispered, "Do not block if he charges me. I have something for him."
Okay then. I just have to stay alive... until that paralysis wears off. Easy.
"Stay down, Saber." Dirk announced. Even as his panting breath seemed to convey exhaustion, an idea was forming. "I'll protect you."
He's stronger than me, and he's faster than me. I wonder what he knows about momentum?
The assassin was hanging from a ledge, three knights ready to rip him to shreds the second he landed. Assassin thought for a moment, paused and said. "You know, I really was hoping not to have to go all out yet. But no, you guys had to be so freaking stupid that you come and poke your head the hell out. I could be eating pizza right now but instead I am going to be busy dressing this wound! Do you know that my pizza has to be cold by now? This is so ridiculous that I do not feel bad anymore. I can't believe I am doing this but...Withered Chaplet."
With that, Assassin reached under his hood and grabbed his chaplet. It was an olive branch, but it seemed close to death. Invincible and in that state for all time, it seemed to suck the light out of everything around it. The room got darker and Assassin cast his hand down. A circle formed around the entire bridge and Saber as well as his knight pals all felt their weapons become heavier than they had known. Their legs felt stiff and it was difficult to run. Their weapons fell to the ground with a thud.
"And that folks, concludes our performance, I hope you enjoyed it. Come again real soon. Haunting Guise." Assassin donned his haunting guise and made himself Ethereal, rushing at Dirk with lightning speed, golden gladius in hand. This battle was over, underestimating one's opponent never ends well, even for a Saber class.
Dirk's hands and feet sunk into the ground as if heavy weights had been bound to him. His lungs and esophagus tightened, the air itself seeming to press down within him. His eyes felt strained, and ready to burst.
"What... the hell... is this?" he gasped in horror. It was a struggle just to keep his head aloft. He could see the knight who had come to his aid, flat on the floor, pain written on his features. Further away, the others had fallen just as quickly, Saber included. They were trapped, then.
His body seemed to tremble with pressure, as if a single wrong move could trigger a painful end. The Assassin appeared a final time to mock them. "And that folks, concludes our performance, I hope you enjoyed it. Come again real soon."
He disappeared again, clearly coming in for the final blow.
That... bastard...
A memory pulsed through Dirk's mind. He, and his father, in their study. Dozens of books, images of hundreds of weapons and objects lay sprawled before them.
"Your Projection magic has improved much. Your Reinforcement as well..."
"Then why don't you seem happy, Dad?"
His father buried his face in one cupped hand, sighing deeply. "Son, you are the smartest boy I've ever seen. And your skills show promise, if slow-coming."
He reached out, and clasped a hand on his boy's shoulder. "But this war isn't something we prepared you for. It's worse than anything you could be imagining right now. You need more than intelligence, skill. You need a reason. Why do YOU fight for the Grail, Dirk?"
The boy paused, before averting his gaze. "I don't have a reason. I'm fighting because I've been told I must fight."
His father grimaced. "That reason won't stay by your side for long."
Dirk's face soured, in pain and frustration. A reason to fight a pointless war...
A red fleck in the night sky caught his eye. A swelling sense of something he couldn't describe came from his gut. He's bleeding! I can track him by his blood!
Another memory of his father echoed in his mind. It had only been a few hours ago. A simple request: come home. The silver cross pattered beneath his shirt and against his chest.
I will!
The invisible silhouette of Assassin was approaching. Orihara had only an instant to react. The boy gritted his teeth, all the pain demanding he stay down. I won't die like this! I won't, I won't, I WON'T!
In a single jerk of motion, screaming in effort, he braced one knee in the dirt, a foot in front of it, holding out his hands. "GRADATION AIR!"
The strongest, most reliable spear he could recall to imagery flowed from the winds, and into his hands. His hands gripped tightly around the weapon of mighty Odin, Gungnir.
My reason to fight, Dad... I'll take the Grail, to keep it from bastards like this!
Tears from the effort flowed down Orihara's cheeks. The pain was unbearable. He told himself again and again, it was better than death. With a bellowing cry, he jabbed his spear into the oncoming Servant, and with a final jerk threw himself backwards, aiming to catapult the Assassin straight into the frigid waters.
Maria and Caster both slept through the night without much trouble, each in their own way. Caster sat in the living room on the sofa, listening in to the different pictures and the stories they told emanating from the television device. His amazement at the device was only rivaled with his disgust towards the culture of this place. Maria warned him before that they would be travelling to a land where Christ held little to no power, but those who lived here disgusted him. They had no morality or love for him, and the glimpses of the Kami worship he saw seeded deep hatred in his heart. He knew of his purpose coming here, but maybe he could try and change something before he left? anything, just so they could feel the pain and repent.
Maria did sleep in her bed, but she only spent a few hours napping. She was already used to sleeping less than five hours a night when she was locked away and spent most of her time reading ancient tomes and listening to the bones around her. She knew she was in a disadvantage, which is why she was certain her spells could return her the lead. Many different materials were laid out to her on the desk as she took each and grounded it into a fine powder. Some she used for other things, while others she had already prepared. Spells of deceit, spells of prana and most important of all? spells of an all-seeing eye. She imagined Caster would appreciate the irony.
Those spells of deceit would be in place to mask anything it comes into contact with from an untrained eye. Maria hoped she could compensate for Caster's incompetence at that field and use spells of an all-seeing eye to monitor the city as much as she could. The spells of prana, on the other hand, would prove to be something of an entirely different nature. She finished tying up all of the spells she made just before noon, when a vibrant smell snuck under her door and into her nostrils. She snapped out of her trance and reminded herself she hadn't eaten a thing in hours. After opening the door she found Caster sitting at the table in the kitchen and waiting for her.
The table was set with simple plates and plastic cutlery. In its center was a bowl with what appeared to be purple mush, and two small plastic boxes. Caster was staring at the television from his seat and looking at another uninteresting news report. Nothing about them or this tournament, just some new legislation the Japanese parliament was about to pass.
"What is this?", Maria asked Caster in her native Hungarian.
"This is lunch", he answered Maria, "I didn't want to disturb you but I couldn't have you starve. I spoke in this new language and asked a man to give up food on this thing. I paid him some of the money I found in the kitchen counter", Caster pointed at the telephone on the sofa and then the change he received from the delivery-man. "You said I couldn't come out. ", he added.
Maria wasn't sure if she should be mad at Caster or thank him. "You could speak Japanese?", she asked Caster. He nodded in agreement. She walked to the kitchen table and sat down at one of the empty seats. Maria smiled at Caster, "Why aren't you eating?", she asked him.
Caster pushed his plate away, "I'm not a man, like you said. I don't need to eat". Maria shrugged and then proceeded to taste whatever was on her plate. She was frozen for a moment before she spat out the food and ran to the kitchen sink to try and wash the terrible taste away. "You tasted it, didn't you?", Maria asked Caster after she cleaned her mouth of that foul taste.
"You didn't like it? I thought this is how food tastes today", Caster answered innocently.
"No, only in this crappy country."
[hr]
Maria left the apartment after Caster had found a small treasure chest of books and decided to read them all. She already slipped into her shadows when she left the apartment, but this time she chose a different appearance. That young, 17 year old girl the photo captured would prove to be an interesting mask to hide behind.
It was afternoon when Maria walked through the streets of the old city and planted small cloth bags in street corners and parks. Those concentrated spells would prove to be useful when they would detect magical activity of any kind. Her glasses couldn't see everything, but her spells could compensate for that.
This is something TheIronRuler said I could do. I controlled Caster a bit. Hope you don't mind.
Known Phantasms: Haunting Guise: Assassin cloaks himself in a mantle of lies and deceit, masking his presence from all else. He becomes invisible to the naked eye and can pass through solid objects with ease.
Emperor's Bane: Assassin's blade glows a brilliant crimson, and gains the ability to paralyze anyone it even scratches. Though it does not have the strength to fully immobilize its target, Emperor's Bane makes escaping from Assassin all but impossible.
Withered Chaplet: By displaying a laurel wreath, its leaves aged and decrepit, Assassin is able to leech the energy and strength from his opponents bodies. Like Emperor's Bane, the Phantasm is not capable of killing its targets, but keeps them from escaping.
Saber:
Str: A End: A Agi: B Man: B+ Luk: C
Known Phantasms: Kin Guard: A light emanates from the golden hilt of Saber's sword, and a trio of after-images, all of them armor-clad knights, appears to fight by Saber's side. While they can't cause anywhere near as much damage, the spirits can still harass other Servants and block strikes against Saber.
Grinning like a madman, Assassin dropped to the ground and charged towards his target. Heh, with Saber and his cohorts all but petrified, there was nothing, nothing that could stop him from collecting the boy's head. And without his Master to maintain his body, Saber would have at most seconds before disappearing back into the aether he had been summoned from. Tonight may have gotten off to a rough start, but things were certainly going his way now!
As he dashed forward, the Servant made sure to keep a close watch on the warriors behind him. It never hurt to be careful, after all; he wouldn't make the same mistake of underestimating his foe as Saber had done.
Saber, for his part, was forced to watch as his foe, only made visible by the blood leaking through his mantle, charged towards Dirk. Gritting his teeth with effort and exertion, the warrior tried to rise to his feet, tried to move his arm, tried to do anything to defend his Master. All for naught, as it turned out; the combined effects of Assassin's Phantasms made it nearly impossible for him to move a single muscle, let alone his entire body.
His companions weren't doing much better. Though they were not detained by the effects of Emperor's Bane, Assassin's latest trick was weighing heavily on them as well. The one that stayed close to Saber seemed to be alright, at least he could stand up without too much trouble. The other two, however, were clearly feeling the strain. They seemed to take an eternity to move towards their respective targets, as though their bodies were trapped in molasses; there was no way they could reach either Assassin or Dirk in time to make a difference.
Shouting out an agonized cry, Saber looked on as Assassin's silhouette drew closer and closer to Dirk...
"GRADUATION..."
"AAAAAAAAAAIRRRRRRR!"
A flash of divine brilliance filled the air, nearly blinding those beneath the bridge. Assassin, Saber, even Dirk, they were all forced to clench their eyes shut, to try and blink away the stars that danced before them.
Unfortunately for the latter two, it was Assassin who first managed to clear his vision. Shaking his head to clear away the last of the dots, he let out a ferocious growl as he charged the last few feet towards his target. Said growl turned almost immediately into a howl of pain, as the Servant managed to impale himself on a massive spearhead that had not been there a second ago.
The force of the impact nearly shattered the lance's shaft, but Dirk's Projection Magic managed to hold fast. The copy of Gungnir, little more than an illusion given solidarity, lived up to its namesake's legend, its tip passing through Assassin's side like a hot knife through butter; the Servant was forced to come to a stop, lest he manage to fully skewer himself on the great spear.
Roaring out in agony, Assassin wrenched the spear from Dirk's grasp. Reflexively, he tore the weapon out of his side, worsening the massive wound that the Master had dealt him.
As pain and blood loss numbed his body, the Servant turned to stare at Dirk with a look of absolute hate. The boy had the nerve to injure him, not once, but twice?! And to deal such a grievous wound?! Oh, he would make this lowly Master suffer for his hubris; he would make Dirk scream and beg for death before he was done.
Reversing the grip on his gladius, Assassin charged towards the now unarmed boy, ready to cleave him in two. Dirk barely had time to throw out an arm and begin an incantation before the Servant was upon him and striking out; even if his prana was not all but depleted, there was no way he could summon another defense, not now. Watching as Assassin's blade whistled toward him, it was all the lad could do to keep his eyes open.
CLANG
...Well, he certainly hadn't seen that coming.
His eyes bulging with disbelief, Assassin stared at the warhammer that had managed to block his blow, tracing the weapon back to its owner. It appeared that Dirk's tactic, in addition to dealing a gruesome blow, had the added effect of slowing Assassin, just long enough to allow for Saber's companion to catch up and defend the boy.
...Wait, hadn't there been three spir-
Yet another pained roar escaped Assassin's lips as a sword nearly tore his back in two, courtesy of the spirit Saber had instructed to attack. Gasping out in agony, the Servant tried to back away, tried to find an escape route, but the two spirits seemed to dance around him, keeping him from lashing out at Dirk or leaping away like he had done the last time. He had to get away. He had to run.
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