Fate/Reclamation (IC)

**canaki** · April 8th, 2018, 05:44 AM

Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)

It seemed to be that the hasty thrust of his sword was too obvious for such well trained, intelligent creatures. Felling one hound in one stroke once did not necessarily mean he could treat them as common beasts. They had been summoned by a heroic spirit, they were no ordinary canines.
But to speak of predictability, they were not the only ones benefiting from the skirmish dragging on.
The returning lunge following the brief growl by the lucky hound was aiming too straight at his throat, making it easier for him to swing his still outstretched -- from the failed thrust -- sword into its side and fling it into the path of the two attacking from behind, forcing them off their track.
The final hound staying above his head had been on his mind, keeping him on his toes. Its leaping attack finally brought all of his targets on the same height as himself: on the ground.

With yet another bounding kick to bounce off the container on the opposite side, Archer jumped over the hound, slashing at its back as he passed it mid-air.
Landing on the higher ground, Archer glanced at the gash on his left arm, still steadily dripping blood.

He was losing too much blood, and he could feel his strength sapped away with it.
It was almost funny, to think a long-dead spirit could still be affected by blood loss. But here he was, blood trickling from his arm, leaving smears on the dirty ground, some spatters on the walls of the containers he had dynamically sprung around on.

From the flashes of the birds’ view, he’d seen Rider had unmounted and dematerialized, and the civilians starting to wake up. If he were to chase after Rider, he would have to get the civilians out of the way, after he finished dealing with these hounds, which he was in no condition to rush through.
…… In other words, there was little to no point in risking further injury to chase after Rider.

“If only they could slip on my blood…”

Wishful thinking would get him nowhere.
As tiring a task it was, his current role was to eliminate these hounds, one by one.

**Zagrin** · April 8th, 2018, 08:41 AM

Dog Team Alpha
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

Archer's sword sliced into the hounds backs, digging deep into its body as they past each other in mid-air. It was a clean-cut and the dog fell with a thud, slumped on the ground. However rather than disappearing as the other hand, it simply stood up and shook it's fur, seemingly none the worse for wear. Archer's attack had clearly connected with the hound, however it simply did not carry the same power as it had before and so a single strike like that would not be enough to banish these beings.

With a growl, the dog that had just stood up glared at its prey before barking to the others besides it. At once they all jumped towards and off the various containers, easily eliminating any hope of their target gaining the advantage of the high ground. However they did not stop there, the smell of blood had awakened a primal excitement within them and they were eager to bite once more into the flesh of their prey, and so using the momentum they had gained from traversing the containers they began to rapidly circle around their prey before all of them lunged at their prey once more.

Health

Dog Team Bravo
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The dog that Caster had targeted first wasn't able to react in time to the spell that had been launched at it. It was only able to catch a brief glimpse of what could only be described as lightning before being struck by the strange force that Caster had unleashed. What could barely be described as a whine was able to escape its throat before it disappeared without a trace.

The other however was far more fortunate. The brief pause between the casting of the first and second spell had given the hound enough time to recognize what its target was doing and evade the spell at the last possible moment. It jumped out of its cover and now stood directly in the path of Caster and her companions, Glaring at the trio. As expected, the most dangerous of the three was the spiritual entity, the servant. One of the two humans that accompanied it must have been its Master, with the other potentially also being the Master of the one that the hound's brothers now battled.

Though it would make sense to try and maim the most dangerous of the three, the short skirmish earlier had shown that such beings were difficult to harm, let alone take down. Nonetheless, every creature in the World has a weakness, even these beings and in this case their weakness was standing right beside them. Though servants were powerful foes, the same could not necessarily be said about their Masters and once a Master had fallen the Servant that he or she were linked to would soon disappear. Therefore in this situation the best bet for victory for the hounds was not to strike at the spell-flinging monster, but rather the pitiful humans that stood by her.

However there was two of them, so the question was which one to strike. They were not in a position to divide their power between the two of them, after all who could say what other powers the Servant had in store in order to deal with them. Well if they wished to make a decisive strike they would need to target the one who looked the weakest...which was clearly not the man whose body was entirely composed of muscle. No, their target would be...the girl. They had been given instructions not to kill her, however in this situation they were left with little choice if they still wished to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Thus did the hound facing down the trio begin to run at them in a zig-zag pattern, seemingly attempting to throw off the servant's aim on it. However rather than jumping at the Caster, the dog dashed to the side before lunging straight at the young, human woman. However that was not the only attack, the other hounds who had circled around the trio had seemingly come to the same conclusion and so made a dash at the three of them as well, maneuvering themselves so that they could make their way past the two obstacles and straight at their new target.

It was something that no common mongrel would have employed, an attack that came from three different angles simultaneously, its aim being to ensure that at least one of them would make it through and strike at the one weakness their opponent's were willing to display.

**Reiu** · April 9th, 2018, 06:08 PM

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Lee Valley Park

It would have been much easier, Arwyn thought, to carelessly dispose of the body in the Thames. Fifty-some dead washed up its murky waters every year, dead, after all, suspected homicides and foul play aplenty among them, by and large unsolved. It would have been much easier to—

—Much too easy, to simply let go, and leave it behind him. Just like that.

This was nothing but a meaningless whim of his, and a selfish one. Making the entire process arduous for himself didn’t in any way benefit the dead, nor anyone else. And yet, even so, he had shied away from the river’s opaque, gluttonous maws and come here instead, to labor away at the pristine, snow-packed…and very frozen over ground.

And what a fool he’s about to make of himself for this, some part of him observed—

“Think fast!”

Plop!

“?!”

An icy-cold sensation, accompanied by impact to the back of his head. Arwyn blinks, and stares back at Saber, who in turn looks back unblinkingly, as though observing his reaction.

“……”

He…was not quite certain of how to react. How he was supposed to react, that is…?

In the blank silence of an unforthcoming answer, he instead blinked once more, and, turning eventually without further fuss, absently resumed his path in the pale silent snowfall.

There was the task at hand, after all.

◆

When all was said and done, after what seemed like a short eternity of strenuous labor, Arwyn found himself gazing down at the wrapped body, half-obscured by what little dirt he had cast over it. He stood there, wordlessly, as Saber placed her makeshift offering in the makeshift grave.

A gentle clap, the sole toll of prayer for the departed: a knell that hung in the air for a fleeting moment before fading, as though swallowed by the vast and frozen silence of their surroundings.

Silence that was soon broken.

A soft, childlike voice suddenly echoed through the glade.

“What are you up to, Mister?”

Arwyn froze, and looked up.

—Three figures of immaculate white against a backdrop of winter snow. Outfits of decidedly anachronistic fashion, even by the standards he was accustomed to in his profession, and an air of surreality that somehow belonged like no other in this wintry forest night.

As fanciful as the thoughts were, the sight of the figures that evoked them seemed to be no less so; a far and dreamlike cry from the mundane world of cement roads that lay just beyond the bounds of these woods.

With that, his thoughts finally turn to the implications of what had just occurred—for unexpected visitors to have chanced upon this scene at this timing, for whatever reason that could have brought them here at this hour of day, with a young girl in tow no less.

Under the circumstances, there was little doubt for the unusual trio to leave and report what they had seen to the authorities—a man shoveling through the frost in this desolate location with seeming intent to conceal something—would be an extremely troublesome outcome.

He recalled his earlier concerns for civilian witnesses, now manifesting in a different form. Impressing upon the eyewitnesses with coercion to not speak of what they have seen would be a logical course of action, as was eliminating them and thereby also the possibility of their testimony entirely. Both courses came with their respective risks, whether the unreliability of threats to keep silent or the arousing of further suspicion through causing yet more disappearances after that of the man who now lay in this unfinished grave.

In either case, what he concealed now in his coat pocket would go a long way towards enabling both.

He gazed at the girl and the two women before him, tense.

—The glaring problem being, of course, that there was no conceivable way he could act on either such thing.

It seems he really wasn’t cut out for the part of murderer.

How could he not be capable of such things after having done what he has, he wondered? How was he supposed to make any of it mean anything, if—…

…Ah, but with such a poor excuse of a murderer, the girl and two women were in no danger here tonight.

That, at least, was a thought to take self-deprecating comfort in.

“Leysritt, it is obviously not a dog.”

“It’s either a murderer or lunatic. Both, perhaps.”

Composing himself, Arwyn met the gaze of each of the three.

“…I apologize for interjecting, but…if I was to assert that I was in fact both a murderer and a lunatic, as you say…would the all of you be so kind as to return the way from which you had come?”

The words were soft, in strange dissonance with the meanings they conveyed. A genuine plea; a tone that sought not to threaten, but to caution.

As his gaze landed on the last, that of the white-haired girl in the purple dress—somehow, he could not bear to linger long on those red eyes still full of mirth from the earlier burst of laughter, and averted his gaze.

“I'm sorry, this was rather unfortunate timing…”

Some part of him was glad now, for the wrap obscuring the corpse, and what dirt there was covering that.

With any luck, this was the most the girl would have to see here tonight.

**Spinach** · April 10th, 2018, 03:53 PM

Alexandra Chimeragenos
16^th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

A pale giant stood motionless above the water’s edge. Murky water, alight by only the frigid moon above, reflected a contorted image of the still figure. The silent, white silhouette of a human cast its cold gaze over the water’s surface, its all-encompassing sight falling upon all in the dark night.

She had stood motionless for an indeterminate amount of time. As if time for her was much the same as the freezing temperature of the night. To an unobservant passerby she could have passed for no more than a statue. Towering over the river with boundless patience, standing as still as stone, with an unflinching gaze that matched the statuesque countenance, Alexandra Chimeragenos listened. Watched.

Waiting.

Until at last she heard it.

“Enemy Servant, detected. Indeterminable class. Accompanied by a young Oriental woman. We have been engaged."

The Lord who held the fabric of V, the magus overlooking the river, took a step forward. The frozen time thawed for Alexandra Chimeragenos, and the chains hanging from her neck and wrists straightened. The taut chains pointed forward, toward the river. The metal echoed sharply, the surface of the water broke. Where once there was merely murk that reflected the woman, a black silhouette of a beast appeared beneath the water. The reflection disappeared, replaced by a dark outline. A palpable vortex of magical energy swirled beneath the surface, the freezing temperature dropping even further.

Stepping upon the disturbance in the water, the Lord appeared to walk across the surface of the river itself as she began to make her way forward. The black beast beneath the waves moved with her, providing a foothold with every step.

Ahead, covered by the dark of night, yet as clear as day to her, Isleworth Ait drew closer.

In silence the white-woman crossed the river. Step by step. Breath by breath. Only the jingle of chains and the waves breaking upon the figure of the black beast beneath accompanied her journey until at last her feet tread upon land.

Alterations began to occur throughout the Lord’s body. Blueprints realigned and overlapped, transparent passages solidified, became opaque, and magical energy began to rapidly rewire anatomy, down to the brain.

The first to change was her olfactory region.

Immediately, an overwhelming ‘scent’ punctuated the air around the magus. Lingering above and behind her, the black beast accompanying Alexandra became punctuated by a striking aroma of burnt charcoal. Further ahead, the Lord sensed another scent. One that she could only perceive with the rewiring of her soul caused by her Magic Crest, a smell close to petrichor.

A smell so strongly steeped over the islet that she could almost see it. The scent of the leyline’s nexus.

Turning toward the source of the new smell in the center of the islet, the Lord took a step forward.

A world in that dark that no human could ever experience brushed past her ears. Every sway of the Thames behind her, the rustle of leaves with the wind, masked a world beneath. A world of acute hearing that hominids were never meant to know of opened up to the Lord. The miniscule sound of the hooked feet of insects clinging to grass, the silent breathing of the islet’s rodents, the toppling of grains of sand beneath the breeze.

Hearing it all, seeing it all, Alexandra followed the trail of the leyline.

The moonlight scattered as the Lord walked in silence toward the center of the islet. A black figure lingered over her, large clouds of white, hot air billowing around the creature as it followed in otherwise silence, the charcoal-like aroma trailing along with its breath. A haunting silence clashed with the creature’s size, its gait making no noise even as the creature towered over the already towering woman. Even its breath, as rapid and visible as it was, left nothing to be heard, even to her augmented auditory cortex. Like a ghost the silhouette of the black beast hung over the giantess.

Until at last she stopped.

Reaching the location where the leyline’s smell was at the strongest, Alexandra stood atop the nexus point.

Closed her eyes.

And began.

**Bloble** · April 10th, 2018, 04:50 PM

Earlier that night...

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

As expected, they had come. A quartet of snarling, vague phantoms that only superficially wore the shapes of hunting hounds. The forest of steel was their territory, and they welcomed intruders with violence and blood.

Everything moved at once. Caster chanted, compressing countless arias into a single word, and unleashed lightning. One phantom was struck head on and vaporized, but the others ran right past her, clawing their way up the containers and surrounding the group from all sides.

Fast. Strong. Certainly at the apex of the animal kingdom. Archer must have been fearsome indeed, to survive and gain ground against such beasts.

Rather than splitting their forces or attacking Caster, who'd boldly stepped past Michael and Erika to cast her spells, the phantasmal wolves focused their attacks upon the one among them that seemed most vulnerable. Wolves hunted in packs, and they always targeted the frailest animal in the herd.

Three pale hounds pounced, teeth bared to bite at Erika Kanzaki's delicate throat. It was certain death from all sides. The same death she had promised to face, for the sake of her selfish wish. Even if Caster had wanted to, she couldn't have interfered in time against such a coordinated assault. But...

He was already there.

Erika's wavering shadow, born from light of the waxing moon, was eclipsed by one much larger, just as three others lunged at it.

One hound found its teeth closing around plastic and cloth instead of skin and bone. With a shove, it flew past its target, taking with it a shattered and torn umbrella.

The second had to pull back at the last second. Its paw, which had been outstretched to slice at delicate veins, was batted aside by a knot of pitch black wood.

And the last? The last did reach something. Its fangs found purchase in flesh, and with a triumphant roar it bit down, ready to crush and rend.

It could not bite through. Its teeth were sharp enough to wound and kill Servants, yet it had failed to crack even a single bone.

Michael raised his free arm and met the eyes of the dog clamping down on it, staring at the beast as if it was a particularly ugly mosquito.

In an instant the hound was several feet away, retreating along with its two brothers to decide on its next move. Its instincts and intelligence, which could accurately gauge threats, were screaming at it that the Master standing before it was not to be trifled with. In terms of physical strength alone, he was comparable to a Servant.

Michael straightened. The arm holding his umbrella had wrapped around Erika, hugging her close to his chest. With its container shattered, the umbrella revealed now its true form: a twisted blackthorn club with a large knob at the end. It crackled faintly with something akin to static electricity, that had allowed it to shove aside two steel-rending attacks without suffering so much as a scratch.

His other arm hadn't fared as well. A drop of blood splattered onto the ground, followed by several more. Yet the bite wasn't the issue: the weight of the leaping wolf had driven into his side. Michael could feel a sharp ache in his ribs. If he was lucky, they would only be bruised.

Not that he cared. What was a bit of pain, to a weapon?

The Enforcer stood behind Erika like a stone-faced statue. At some point his bow tie had been torn loose. The sad lump of cloth drifted to the ground.

She was no victim, and he had no obligation to bleed for her. Even so...

Back then, after publicly disavowing his responsibilities and acknowledging his fellow Master as a warrior, Michael had sheepishly smiled.

“...oh, but still, if an enemy shows up, get behind me, okay?”

Once more he brandished the shillelagh, facing down the pale hounds without a hint of trepidation. Gone was the bashful man from earlier. His face might as well have been carved from stone. Before them was a superior specimen, a warrior without fear, a true dog of the Association.

"Come, Servant of White. You'll have to do better than that."

Wise up

**Katie** · April 10th, 2018, 06:22 PM

Erika Kanzaki
16th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

My mind briefly goes blank.

The immediacy of the situation doesn’t register at all. I’ve been on the precipice of death before, but it was always my own doing. Slow, drawn out suffering. But not like this.

Something rapid, something that snuffs my existence out in seconds—

I hesitate for far too long.

The sound of splintering plastic. Flesh being torn.

The three hounds kept at bay, my savior left with a few scratches. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t talked big and yet let myself vulnerable, he could have been uninjured.

“Thanks.” The sound escapes my lips, breath short from barely avoiding death. It’s an understatement, to be sure. Without Michael, I’d be dead. I suppose I’ll have to pay him back.

Starting now.

I bring my attention to the dogs, more specifically, the one he had failed to hold off entirely.

“Focal point, set.
Carve a path through.”

The wind shifts and moves from above, brief emptiness collapsing into a lance from the heavens, descending upon the hound at breakneck speed.

Let’s clean up, Caster.

Wise up!

**Ayakashi** · April 12th, 2018, 01:48 AM

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Day:
Time:
Location:

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Wounds:
Mana:

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Status Effects:

Caster of White
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15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Science Museum, Hammersmith & Fullham
Central London

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??
??

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None

That mask...

Though she has never seen it during her lifetime, her knowledge of the Holy Grail's summoning mechanics gives Caster full awareness of what seeing this accessory means -- or rather, it gives her clear insight on the nature and identity of its wearer: 'Hassan.' Those who bear this title were the cream of the crop, leaders of the mighty Order of the Hashashin, a sect of masters of subterfuge and assassination. They were second to none, in fact, the Order of Hasashin is the very root which the word 'assassin' stems from; and it is this combination of being peerless and the origin of it all that makes a 'Hassan' the only one fit to fill the Assassin-class container.

To Caster, an opponent like this is most likely one of the worst match-ups, especially in an environment as inhibiting to her abilities as the Science Museum. To fight here would be anything but sane -- yes, if a single wrong step is taken, everything could end in an instant. There is no margin for error, no room for any misplaced judgement, thus, using their Master-Servant link, Caster takes no delay in warning Aila of the danger at hand:

"Aila, we have an enemy Servant inside the Museum, one that is most likely of the Assassin class. It would be wise to not go any further, since if we do enter the museum, I may be unable to defend myself against their attacks, let alone defend you... but... what is it that you want to do, Aila?"

Though Caster is invisible, incorporeal, Aila can perhaps feel her Servant's gaze focused on her as the latter waits for an answer. One thing that had been definitely 'visible' though through Caster's speech, was her slight hesitation right before asking what were Aila's intentions.

It is no fear or doubt, but rather a struggle of the self to reigning in one's natural, inbuilt purpose to guide others, ordering them around into taking the optimal course of action. Indeed, for a Queen, a Ruler like her, the course of action that they should take here is crystal clear... and that is why she does not immediately push it into her partner's face, rather, she awaits Aila's decision.

" ▬▀▀▬▀"

...but well, that does not mean that she herself cannot take action to ensure there is a safety net to fall back on in case things do take a turn for the worst. Uttering a single word in the same, lost language, whispering it as to not disturb the guard, the Servant casts a spell that seems to have no effect at first glance.

The lack of apparent effect is indeed a feature, rather than a mishap. Aila may perhaps have perceived that light all around them seemed to have... shifted.

"We should have our true position obfuscated to the enemy, but I would not rely on spells to continuously keep us from being found."

>>> Wise-up: Updated Stat Screen, New Spell Info, New Summons Info! <<<

Stat Screen - Caster of White

List of Spells

Summons

**canaki** · April 13th, 2018, 04:30 PM

Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)

There was a thudding sound, indicating the creature he had surely cut into did not disappear.
First he misses, now his strikes were not enough to banish the spectral hound? This was becoming a rather embarrassing trend of failure, even if it was most likely caused by this insufferable loss of blood.
Fortunately his servant container was not a Saber, he was not dependant on his strength to wield swords, and he had other ways of disposing of enemies. Looking in the direction he sensed his master should be, he eyed another tall mound of containers. Considering the distance and height… yes, it was barely manageable.

Mind made up, Archer twirled the sword in his right hand into a reverse grip, while lightly swinging his left arm, splattering more blood onto the container he was standing on.
For being ghostly creatures, the hounds were surely noisy. They growled so frequently, and he could hear their rapid panting noises approaching, clearly excited by the smell of fresh blood. Yes, they should all rush towards this point, for it was such a clear target to aim at.

While his arm was suffering from the abuse, his legs were just as fresh and functional as they were in the afternoon. With a short sprint towards the edge of the container, Archer first flung his sword forward, as if it was a javelin being thrown, then launched himself after it with a springing jump, the four jaws snapping at his heels.
Midair, he twisted upsides down to face them, quickly identifying the hound he had failed to banish earlier. His bow rematerialized in his left hand, immediately followed by two arrows set upon it.

His aim was a bit shakier than he liked, but this was still better than swinging around his sword and tiring himself out.
Besides, the sensation of soaring over a long distance, the cold air whipping his hair around, the wind whistling and singing of faraway times, the arcing freefall soon to start… he unfortunately was not a bird, he may be unable to fly, but he did savor every moment of his quasi-flight.

In that perfect moment of balance between falling and flying, the split-second of the oh so very still hovering, Archer released the two arrows aimed at the hounds, one for the previous hound he had surely slashed, one for another close by.
As his plummet towards the other pile of containers started and he twisted back to face his destination, despite his failures, despite his wounds, a ghost of a satisfied smile flickered faintly upon his face.

The sword he had flung a moment earlier had embedded itself into the wall of the container, at the perfect position for him to catch the grip with his right hand, sparing him the pain of slamming face-first into the wall itself.

Now, if he could get his feet on something solid, that would be ideal.

status effect kicking in

**Kirby** · April 14th, 2018, 02:44 AM

Saber of 『　』
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Lee Valley Park

Told you coming alone would’ve been a bad idea.

I stand up from the grave, finished with my charm, and eye the new arrivals. A girl and her two servants, from the looks of it. White hair, pale skin, almost to the point of colorlessness of driven snow. Unassuming at first, yet fairy-tale-like, almost ethereal in their appearances. Beautiful? Surely, in their own way, as a porcelain doll, immaculate and fragile like flakes of snow, and yet…

Their beauty can’t compare.

Not enough. These girls possessed some quality that had set themselves apart from the ordinary humans I’ve seen since my return, enough to get my hopes up, but it was foolish to me. No, what distinguished these girls was not beauty, but purity. An innocence of essence and soul. Such a purity that one could describe it as inhuman.

While it shouldn’t, it surprises me that something not human could be a Master.

Yes, a Master. There’s another Servant around here. A strange signature. One that I don’t recognize— recognize? Recognize from what?— so much that its very nature feels like an anomaly.

An anomaly. And as chances would have it, I’d be willing to bet this one is strong. Can you hear it? The racing of my heart?

Our Masters exchange words. The world’s most one-sided flinging of insults. One of the girls likens him to a dog— well, I can kinda see it, now that she mentions it— and he agrees with their assessment as a lunatic— don’t you ever get tired of self-deprecation, at some point?— the works. Something like that. I kinda zoned out, so I didn’t really catch the rest of what they said. All I can think of now is to locate that presence, somewhere further from where the girls stand.

There.

Somewhere in the trees, where its presence feels the greatest. I find it, as I stare deeper into the forest. Drowning out words and sound. If ethereal bodies had eyes, ours would have locked.

And I smile.

**Leftovers** · April 14th, 2018, 08:02 AM

Berserker of Blue
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The woman's vehemence could only be explained as the result of a personal affront. For whatever reason, she had been urged to drown out the song blasting from the speakers with her own not in response to being discovered but as an instinctive rejection of its content. It seemed that Freogan's taunt had worked more effectively that even he had intended. It was curiously petty.

Well, if she had to voice her opinion, she would rather listen to a drunkard's bawdy song than a lofty hymn to the glorious and divine if only for its frankness, a lack of pretense for one's human nature. As it was, there was no reason for Berserker to give the enemy Servant anything more than silence.

At least, until she opened her mouth again.

"Might we assume that nobility is self-evident? Scarce may we else perceive one who brazenly implicates bystanders in their conflict as a judge of honourable manners and intentions. As it is said, virtue is not an act, but a habit."

Having returned words in kind to the newly identified Lancer, Berserker turned her face slightly to the side to adress the man behind her.

"The decision is yours to make, Freogan. As long as our goal is met, I will not object." 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

**Mellon** · April 15th, 2018, 11:56 AM

Akechi Tohsaka
15th of December, 2004
Royal Opera House
Night (Phase 1-3)

"Yes, it has been a while Rin. I'm doing fine, but I'm going to have my work cut out for me in these upcoming days. Especially since I'm going to have to try down one of our family's old 'penpals.' But I'm sure you aren't here to hear me complain. What about you Rin?"

“Its been fine, albeit a little dull.“

A slight smile appeared on Rin’s face.

“The preparations for the Grail War ended up being somewhat tedious, to say the least, but at least they are done. I would introduce you to Archer, but...” Your raven-haired sister gave a small wave, clearly meant to indicate at the surrounding crowds. “This isn’t probably the greatest locale for something like that.”

“Speaking of which, I heard that you got selected as a Master as well, nee-san?”

Next to Rin, a look of involuntary sadness flickered on Sakura’s face for a moment, before seemingly vanishing into nothingness. It would seem that Sakura still had some reservations on the Tohsaka family’s participation in the Holy Grail War. You had heard from the family grapevine that Sakura had quite the row with the Tohsaka family patriarch over the issue (as Sakura was originally meant to stay back in Japan for the duration for the war). How your, normally demure, sister managed to persuade both your father and, perhaps more importantly, Rin (who was notoriously protective of Sakura), was a question all in its own.

“Now that I think it… Both of my cute imoutos are fairly popular at their school… So Rin, Sakura have there any interesting boys for you two recently?”

Rin, whose champagne glass had just touche her lips, suddenly started coughing as the sudden sip proved too much for her, when combined with Akechi’s sudden question.

Sakura gave a soft chuckle.

“Onee-san, please don’t tease sister like that, you know she is bad with these types of jokes. There is..”

Rin, having gained her composure, suddenly interjected.

“There is absolutely, no-one, thank you very much, Sakura! Hmph! What about yourself, sister?

"You are getting to the age where you need to think about settling down, no?”

**Sunny** · April 15th, 2018, 01:30 PM

Caster of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

"Mm," Caster made a moue of disappointment as one of the dogs twisted to avoid her second spell, her lens tracking its trajectory as her eye darted thoughtfully, hurriedly making corrections in her head to hopefully better account for their speed.

That was her fault. She'd spoiled her own dogs and cat with treats and luxury, so she was a little surprised just how quick these ones could be. She mused whether that was the difference between pampered domestication and dogs born and bred for tasks like these. Quite different stock indeed.

Still, how satisfying to know I can also take that kind of body apar---oh.

The servant's blue eye widened, caught off-guard as the hounds refused to engage her at all. She'd assumed some would slip past her, of course, but definitely not all of them. Breathing a small, improper curse under her breath, she twisted to face her master and ally for the evening. She wouldn't able to reach Erika before the rallying wolves did -- but thankfully that proved unnecessary. Michael was as durable as her eyeballing suggested, if not moreso.

A thoughtful noise. She had never particularly been fond of heavy muscle, but certainly at times it comes in handy... "Thank you, Mister Michael!" she called out with one hand cupping her mouth, reaching into the pocket of her coat with her other glove. She was grasping the item she was looking for even as she heard Erika's thoughts in her own.

Originally Posted by Erika

Let’s clean up, Caster.

Of course, Erika!
A pause, then a plaintive mumbled thought. Though I would quite like to see if there's any samples left after...

Already looking forward to it, she pulled out the device her fingers had closed around in her pocket, the one she'd idly put together while discussing the evening's plans with Erika and Natsuki over "hamburgers." A tool that was instantly recognizable for all the wrong reasons, fit snugly into her small gloved hand. While some might have called it a pistol, or a handgun, there was only one real word to describe the weapon Caster had produced.

A raygun ripped out of the pages of the pulpiest of science fiction, its glass tubes and illuminated readouts shining ominously under the dim light of the shipping yard.

"Sing, Euterpe," she whispered affectionately, stroking the barrel of the raygun with two fingers before she pointed it at the first of the two hounds who Michael had knocked away. A heavy, metallic click resounded before her finger depressed the trigger. A flash of light and noise.

She flicked her wrist towards the second closest dog, the other one Michael had pushed back, squeezing the trigger of the raygun again.

Ah, but I really do hate doing this to animals...

Not that it would actually stop her.

Wise up!

**Dranes** · April 15th, 2018, 02:15 PM

Gendou Matou
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

"What a screw-up of a night."

It was the first time he had felt like this since arriving in England's Capital, annoyance and irritation clear in the young man's tone as he walked through the late-night streets of East London. Things not going according to plan? A normality in his life but this was a bit different, unexpected complications had arisen... ones that could only be attributed to some divine comedy. Even as the battle continued playing out before his numerous eyes, he couldn't believe that she was there and worse yet, on the opposite side. The dogs attacking her however was more along the lines of expectations, he hadn't placed any real faith in Rider following his wishes though it seemed he had worried for nothing.

I can't tell if your hounds are disobedient or well trained when it comes to hunting prey.

Even if it was a mental conversation but even Rider could pick up what Gendou was implying, what had happened was not what he had wanted. Either they had disobeyed Rider and acted on instinct or Rider did not care. In the end however, it didn't really seem to matter. After all it seemed that Erika travelled in good company, one who was willing to defend those 'weaker' than him in a sense. A more obvious fact was what both of them were, after all where there was a Servant, there had to be a Master and while not fact, it was likely that the bowman and spellslinger belonged to them.

Even if they're simply slipping back home, I suppose I owe an apology for the treatment they're receiving. While I expected a battle, I didn't think there would be two enemy masters here.

It was also another confirmation, that the Clock Tower had summoned servants as well and that they were working as an actual team. While the terms of Blue and White team were used to describe each side of this war, the reality was quite different. The Three Families were no team, it was more akin to a non-aggression pact that they had entered into, relying on each group's own strengths to eliminate the enemy. A novel idea if not for the fact that the Clock Tower had managed to organize their own. As it was, a strategy of divide and conquer could end with the war with a White 'team' defeat much faster than expected.

We're at quite the disadvantage though, aren't we? While I don't doubt your ability to have won this fight, showing our hand so early in the game would've caused trouble down the road. Still, we can only work with what fate has dealt us, no?

Yes, there was no use in complaining about what could and couldn't be now. The fact was that no matter how powerful any one individual was, a co-operative effort by the Clock Tower could lead to their defeat. A sigh escaped Gendou as he mulled over that simple truth.The truth of the matter was that the Three Families would have to act as a unit to counter an actual team of Master/Servant duos. This in itself brought its own complications, while the Tohsakas were readily available with his family connections this was not the case for the Einzberns. Those chilly homunculi weren't the most friendly bunch and it was anyone's guess if this situation would change that.

But at least we haven't come out of this entirely empty handed.

He fished out his phone, glancing at the saved sound file before going through other menus and options.

Faces, capabilities, servants. All important pieces of information while trading a minimum amount in return. Not as much as hoped but I suppose it's the best we could do in our situation. I'm sure those old codgers will understand that much... and contact who we can, if they enjoy the idea of reclaiming the Grail.

The perpetual grimace on his face eased as he pocketed the device once more. His vision continuing on the two battles, the outcome already evident.

The question now is: 'what has the rest of our 'team' been doing?'

**Zagrin** · April 15th, 2018, 06:02 PM

Dog Team Alpha
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The dogs chased after their target, certain that they had him on the run, however what came next was unexpected for both them and their Master. Rather than utilize his sword to fight them off, the enemy servant drew a bow and let loose two arrows at the charging hounds. Taken by complete surprise, the two hounds that were targeted by the enemy servant could not react in time to this new form of attack their enemy had displayed. As the arrows made contact with their bodies, they began to fade out of existence, just as the others had done before.

Now only two of them were left. There numbers had been cut in half in but a single moment, however this only served to strengthen their resolve rather than cause them to cower and run. The two remaining hounds thus continued their charge and jumped down after the enemy servant and the sight that greeted them was a welcome one, indeed. The enemy had dealt a decisive blow against two of them, that was true, however in exchange he had left himself in a vulnerable position, one which the two of them would exploit to their full advantage!

Thus with claws extended and jaws wide open, the two beasts hurtled straight towards the seemingly defenseless man, unheeding of what consequences that awaited them should their attack fail. All that mattered was that they would inflict the same type of pain to this man that he had to them.

Dog Team Bravo
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The gorilla had made a bold declaration, the young maiden had fiercely shown her resolve by striking at a hound with a fearsome spell and the servant, Caster, was now plinking away at the hounds as though they were nothing more than targets in a shooting gallery. They were so confident in themselves, one even boasting that their master should come and face them rather than the hounds themselves.

Such arrogance

The spear of wind launched by Erika struck the hound, yet it refused to fall, unwilling to show any further weakness to these people. The other two hounds were struck by the strange light emitted from Caster's gun, however they too stood their ground, in fact they appeared to be completely unfazed by the attack, simply shaking it off the strange feeling it had given them. With that, the three glared at their prey and a low growl came from them. It seems they were trying to deliver a message, a very simple one to be sure:

Don't be so cocky.

They knew that in the end they weren't even an equal match for Caster, so what chance did they have when she was backed up by two, clearly skilled, masters? Even so, for the sake of their Master, they would not go down without a fight and they would not allow these cretins to think ill of him.

Once more the three hounds sprung into action. One of the dogs who had shaken off Caster's beam bolted to the side, past the muscular man before dash straight at the young woman that he had attacked moments earlier, still intent on sinking his jaws into her soft flesh. The other two however did not follow it's lead, rather than striking at the weakest in the group their attention turned to the one who was the strongest: Caster.

Without a moment's hesitation, the two bounded at the spiritual being, intent on showing her that where flashy spells and mysterious lights failed, that tooth and claw could get the job done.

Doggo

Rider (White)
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

In the streets of East London, Rider roamed in spirit form. Though he was not by Gendou's side at the moment, he was trailing behind at a pace that should he so wish he'd be able to catch up to him in but a couple seconds. Furthermore there was also the mental connection between them, no doubt if Gendou believed himself to be in danger he would have notified Rider by now.

Originally Posted by Gendou

I can't tell if your hounds are disobedient or well trained when it comes to hunting prey.

They only acted as the situation required, Master. After all it wasn't just two humans that had arrived at the battlefield, but another servant as well. A situation like that required them to take such action if they hoped to win or at least leverage some sort of advantage, unless of course you would have preferred they rolled over and died.

The tone in Rider's voice grew eerily colder with that last line. Frankly he did not enjoy the fact that his hounds were out there, fighting as hard as they could to attain him and his Master victory while he now strode across the street at his Master's command, away and safe from the battle. Had it been up to him, he would have fought by side by side with his hounds against those servants rather than leave them to fend for themselves against such terrible odds.

Originally Posted by Gendou

Even if they're simply slipping back home, I suppose I owe an apology for the treatment they're receiving. While I expected a battle, I didn't think there would be two enemy masters here.

Do not apologize to me, apologize to them.

The response was blunt, with a hint of anger behind it. He understood the reasons why he had been called back by his Master, he even understood the manner in which his Master had asked him to utilize his loyal companions, in fact they had even been able to get in a couple of blows against Archer. It was sound logic, but even so it did little to soothe his feelings on the matter.

In fact, if you are truly sorry, you would do well in somehow rewarding them for their performance tonight.

Originally Posted by Gendou

We're at quite the disadvantage though, aren't we? While I don't doubt your ability to have won this fight, showing our hand so early in the game would've caused trouble down the road. Still, we can only work with what fate has dealt us, no?

Hmph, had you allowed me to fight unhindered Archer would have fallen before those other three nuisances would have even arrived on the battlefield. We would not only have claimed the leyline, but also eliminated one of the seven servants on the opposing team as well. Now it seems we have lost that opportunity, but...

But at least we haven't come out of this entirely empty handed. Faces, capabilities, servants. All important pieces of information while trading a minimum amount in return. Not as much as hoped but I suppose it's the best we could do in our situation. I'm sure those old codgers will understand that much... and contact who we can, if they enjoy the idea of reclaiming the Grail.

What Gendou said was true, in exchange for revealing nothing of Gendou's abilities and but a small handful of Rider's own they had obtained what could only be considered a treasure trove of information. The classes of the two enemy servants, Archer and Caster, the faces of the two humans that were their masters', some understanding of what both they and their servants were capable of and even a recording of the song that Archer had sung. In the event that they were able to meet up the rest of the master/servant pairs that made up their faction, no doubt sharing this information would make dealing with the two of them a far simpler task.

Yes, at times information such as this can be more effective at bringing down a warrior than any spear or arrow. At least in that regard, I must agree with you, Master.

Originally Posted by Gendou

The question now is: 'what has the rest of our 'team' been doing?'

Rider frowned as Gendou asked this question. Whatever it was that this team of theirs was doing, it clearly did not involve helping them to take control of the point that lay at the bottom of the whirlpool. Thus for Rider...

For now, it does not matter. Our part in tonight's battle is over, we can only hope that the rest of our allies had better success than us.

**zikari8** · April 17th, 2018, 05:32 AM

Mori Shiori
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

Shiori’s smile, as beautiful and artificial as a plastic flower, stretched into an expression of polite cheer.

To her good fortune, it seemed that her message managed to get through to the rough-looking Master as he casually got up to leave. As all was going according to her wishes, the young girl was content with following his signal, leaving the two Servants to their own devices. It was in full confidence that she believed Lancer could take care of herself. Out of unconcscious worry, however, Shiori spared a quick glance at Lancer and was genuinely pleased to find her uninjured. Best of all, the two Servants had paused their bout, returning the surrounding area to relative peace.

Despite his hard-headed appearance, akin to a motorcycle gang delinquent, the older gentleman named Freogan was quite reasonable in his speech and respectful in his tone. She followed him quietly and diligently, like a duckling after its mother, barely keeping up with his longer strides until he slowed down, a gesture she appreciated. She knew not who Betty Boop was, most likely a British actor of some renown, but it did not seem like the man was insulting her, so he most likely did not think ill of her either. If anything, it seemed like the man was being quite considerate in determining how best to address her. However, just as she thought to respond to his attempts to break the awkward silence, Lancer came to address him first, definitively expressing her doubts towards the situation.

It was clear to anyone how she felt about the other servant and vice versa. Despite having just met, the two were very antagonistic towards each other. Whether due to conflicting ideologies or a sour first impression was uncertain. If things started going south, they might’ve just started fighting again right there, right then, an unpleasant thought to be sure.

In an attempt to smooth over the situation somewhat, Shiori first and foremost addressed Lancer, speaking to her much like a polite child would to their overprotective parent.

“There’s no need to worry, Lancer. I don’t think Mr. Freogan or the missus would do anything dishonorable. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

Then, she turned towards the opposing Master and Servant. She made a petite bow, slightly elegant but not too formal, and greeted them with her most respectful tone of voice.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My full name is Himitsuno Namae. But you can just call me, Mitsuno.”

She accentuated the last part with a friendly wink, in contrast to her more grandiose formalities. Even so, she continued with her performance, expressing herself with a clear voice and mild arm movements.

“Mr. Freogan, I am honored to receive your compliments. However, there is no need to thank me. I only did what any other magus would do, young or old." As she spoke, her hands clapped together, somewhere between the motions for prayer and cheer. "Nevertheless, I am glad to hear of your concern for the wellbeing of the common man. It is clear to me that you are a kind soul.”

Suddenly, for a brief moment, Shiori paused. Her mouth, which was so eloquently flowing with words, froze and held back the sounds which were about to come next. Her light pink lips quivered, struggling to move once more. In that moment, which lasted but a silent second, she confronted the doubt within her.

And then, she spoke once more.

“Indeed… I can sense that you are a truly good man. From the few actions you have demonstrated, I see the consideration and honor within your heart.”

Her voice held a subtlest change from prior. Although her tone was as bubbly as ever, her words were a bit slower, a bit more solemn, and even more gentle.

“The missus, as well, I feel has a heart of gold. Her lack of hesitation and sharp words reveal a strong, noble spirit, pure as the midwinter snow. Though there may be some differences between us, I believe that you are not our enemies.”

Standing still in the street of London, the young girl addressed those around her, not just the two new acquaintances but even the Servant by her side.

“The two of you, the two of us… I see now that we are of the same mind. Not in temperament or ideals, but in the string of humanity which we refuse to abandon. There is no need for our differences to cause us to lose trust in that which connects us. In the end, we are all chasing the same thing.”

She reached out towards them with an open palm. Just as she gave to them her feelings, so too did she offer them her hand. Her long, fragile arm stretched out in an open invitation. Beneath the dim light of night, her pale skin glistened. Here was beauty and grace personified. Surely, no one in the city could match her in that field. If Lancer’s elegance was akin to majesty, then Shiori was a princess in a tower, whose picturesque smile could launch a thousand ships and calm the fiercest dragon. Just as the angels who would carry noble souls to paradise, her slender frame radiated with a heart-soothing warmth. All one had to do was take her hand…

“So, how about it? Would you two like to join us? Together we could accomplish anything.”

And so, she proposed the impossible. With no regard for the situation, she expressed her most sincere feelings, even against her doubts. For in truth, she did not expect them to agree. Nor did she even know if Lancer would accept such an alliance. In terms of trust and tactics, there was no basis for such an idea. Surely it would cause more troubles than it was worth. Yet, even so, she had to ask.

For this was the last mercy she would offer them.

**Verg Avesta** · April 17th, 2018, 05:05 PM

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

"Oh bollocks..."

Things had gotten... strange to say the least. While Lancer and Berserker had been squaring off, Freogan had used this chance to spin a yarn to the patrons of the bar that this was just some rehearsal for a who-knows-what-the-hell performance art piece featuring girls in ancient and out-dated clothes. Also special effects were involved. Wasn't that water-cannon-spear realistic looking? He thought so, he had spent a better part of three weeks building it. See the tanks was connected to the Thames via hose that ran under the floorboards and into the river itself. Yes, that's right, it wasn't more than that. You should be able to read all about it in tomorrow's papers. Yeah, they would be performing here and there along the bank of Thames, so watch out for more exciting developments.

Being caught unawares by something like this wasn't easy, especially if you had to sweep under the rug a fact that two Heroic Spirits of the ancient past were about to duke it out in full view of all these normal civilians, something that made Freogan frown. That's why he had been quick to suggest they'd relocate to a more secluded spot.

Originally Posted by Adidas Amazon

"Well...Mister...Freogan. Allow Us to introduce Ourself then. We regret that We can not offer you a name in return, but for the purposes of this bout, you may address Us as Lancer as by the rules of this contest, though Her Majesty is more than acceptable. And while We consider your etiquette more than lacking...your unwillingness to attack Our most appreciated...attaché when she talks to you is a mark of honor. As such We are willing to suspend this bout for now."

Freogan looked over the redheaded Servant, and while her outward appearance, or rather her clothes, spoke nothing about blue blood running through her veins, that song from before and the way she held her head high certainly gave that impression. They said that true diamonds shine even through shit, which was probably the case here. And now that her screeching wasn't invading his head with thoughts that weren't his own, Freogan's expression softened slightly, showing much less hostility towards Lancer.

However, one point still stood unchallenged, and as for that...

"I don't see a gaggle of corgis following you," he started, rubbing his chin. "Plus you ain't a sweet lil' iron-willed lady in a fancy dress suit, so, yeah. My sovereign you ain't. You might think it bloody rude, but man's gotta respect only one authority, that of his country and current queen, right? So can't call you such grandiose titles. So if Lancer's okay with you, I'll go with that Servant Sweatpants."

He gave Lancer an apologetic shrug, indicating that this was just something Freogan had to do because he felt it to be right. It wasn't as if he was beholden to Britain in any sense of loyalty or duty, but at the same time, it was the country he called home. If for nothing else than that he would have to decline the other form of addressing the redhead before him.

Originally Posted by Berserker

"Might we assume that nobility is self-evident? Scarce may we else perceive one who brazenly implicates bystanders in their conflict as a judge of honourable manners and intentions. As it is said, virtue is not an act, but a habit."

Hearing the blue-haired Servant's words made Freogan suck air in through his teeth. The animosity between these two was palpable, like London Smog you could cut through with a dull butter knife. It was natural, considering they were both Servants... or that's how he figured it to be. Nevertheless if they wouldn't calm down they'd be in more trouble than any of them wanted to be in.

"Hey, Bridesmaid, chill. Ain't nothing to lose our heads over," Freogan tried to smile at the other Servant. "We taunted, they answered, everything went to crapper for a moment, but we're here and we're all no worse for wear, right? And yeah, she might have jumped the gun a bit, but hell; I'd rather take that than someone who'd have just attacked this place with no care for the people around them. Let's just all cool our heads for a bloody second."

He hoped, perhaps in vain, that things might not explode again into an all-out brawl. While the cute as a button Master of Lancer didn't seem to share the to-hell-with-consequences attitude of her partner, even she might have trouble stopping the Bobbies Siren Duo if tensions rose again. As if to signal what he was thinking, Freogan rolled his eyes to the girl in a slightly self-derisive manner.

Originally Posted by Servant Sweatpants

"However, while you have demonstrated honorable behavior, We can not tell if the same could be said of all of your associates. As such, We will not let Our Master walk alone while We fight this woman. Either allow Us to escort her, or We will have to consider this a most deceitful feint, and will respond accordingly."

Freogan raised his hands slightly, palms facing Lancer as a sign of peace.

"Sure, that's fair. I mean, I'm the first one to admit I look like the original tosser, so I get why you might not trust me. Hell, I'd do the same were I in your sneakers," Freogan answered. "Still, Bridesmaid ain't that bad. You just rubbed her the wrong way, what with crashing in our fish and chips. Any arsemonger would get angry 'bout-"

Originally Posted by Betty Boop

“There’s no need to worry, Lancer. I don’t think Mr. Freogan or the missus would do anything dishonorable. Besides, I can take care of myself. Allow me to introduce myself. My full name is Himitsuno Namae. But you can just call me, Mitsuno.”

Freogan's words were cut off by Lancer's Master, who had finally decided to pipe up. Her words and countenance were elegant, a direct contrast to Freogan in just about every possible way. For a moment, the blonde magus felt like a bull in a china shop when standing next to her. Especially their size difference made him look like a lumbering brute when compared to the girl. Hell, just about the only woman who didn't have that effect on him was Alexandra, and that was why she had earned the nickname Gigantor.

Still, this introduction... It made Freogan cock an eyebrow at bit at the girl, as if wanting to ask something, but he made no comments about it. Instead...

"Pleased to meet ya. Well... as pleased as we can be, considering the circumstances," Freogan answered and made a non-committed gesture to the place around them. "Hell of a way to meet people, I suppose. But I suppose this is the damn life we chose."

However, while he had been pleasantly relieved as to how the situation was slowly progressing after the initial disaster, what came next took even Freogan by surprise. Mitsuno turned her graceful words into a weave of a proposal, something that should have been unheard of in a situation like the Holy Grail War. While neither one of them had put it in words, they all must have realized they were on different sides. And yet, against all that baggage, Mitsuno started to talk about... well, what exactly? At first it almost sounded like a ceasefire, a truce of some sort since neither of them wanted to endanger the people around them.

From there things got even more strange.

Freogan's expression changed many times during Mitsuno's little speech. It went from a slightly wide-eyed surprise to a momentary frown, replaced by browns knitting together and wrinkles appearing on the forehead as he thought long and hard. At one point he raised his other eyebrow again in form of a question, before his mouth turned into an even line of near-stone. That impassive face, one much reminiscent of a certain Department Head of the Clock Tower (and honestly, stolen straight from her) continued for the rest of the speech, as well as almost ten seconds after it as the stunned silence continued after Mitsuno's words were over.

Then, without a warning... that emotionless expression melted into a grin that could almost be described as 'glad'.

"Hah! Not only a good head on your shoulders, but a smart brain inside it! Bloody brilliant, you Matryoshka doll. Totally disregard rules, screw the ancient traditions and only work for what feels right," Freogan cackled, his voice losing most of the tension he had been holding. "You know, had you been born over here you'd been a total punk rocker with that attitude. Well, had you been born over here and had you been born, what, fifteen years earlier? Oh but what the hell."

For a moment it looked as if Freogan's reaching hand was about to grasp Mitsuno's and shake it nice and firm. But, as if he could not help himself, the older and taller man proceeded to suddenly just reach further and plop that thing on top of Mitsuno's head, patting it a few times for a good measure. It was surprisingly gentle despite his size, if a bit awkward.

"Sure, let's hear what you have to say. I mean, I have a few questions, like what you two actually want to accomplish, but I'd be right mental if I didn't at least hear you guys out. Plus, like I said. Despite everything, you blokes seem alright. And we all got our flaws, so 'ye-who-casts-first-stone' yada yada," Freogan said, his blue eyes looking at Mitsuno with a clear respect in them. "Might as well do it somewhere we'd get more food and beer. Oh, you don't have to worry. Unlike elsewhere, ain't no pub-owner gonna give you the stink-eye for being a minor in a pub. At least where I frequent. Unless you guys are up for burgers?"

Having said his answer to the girl, Freogan turned to look towards the two Servants. He had gone forth and spoke his mind, and while Berserker had said it was his decision she might still object to this... not to mention Lancer. The two of them had been raring to kill each other the moment they locked gazes, so a ceasefire might be heinous idea for them. And pissing off Berserker was the last thing he wanted to do. Lancer too, of course, but it's not like she had-

"Oh, right."

Suddenly realizing something, Freogan slipped out of his large, fur-trimmed leather jacket, exposing nothing but a white T-shirt to the chilly London air. Then, as if it was the most logical thing to do, he offered the jacket to Lancer. Well, logical might be one thing, but he was staring quite awkwardly towards the ground as he did it. That and scratching his cheek with his index finger were tell-tale signs of Freogan's other side rearing it's blushing head.

"Put this on if you want. I mean, you just got blasted with an assload of water, ain't no way that tracksuit is dry or warm," he grunted. "Servant or no, I'm not gonna let a girl freeze her ass in my company, especially if we're gonna be out here any longer."

**Bloble** · April 18th, 2018, 01:23 AM

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

The dogs were smart. They split their attack, with one stubbornly pursuing Erika and the other two splitting off to target her Servant.

The dogs were also determined. They would fight until dead, that much was clear. Like Enforcers, they were tools of their master meant for one purpose and one purpose alone: hunting down prey.

Michael didn't bat an eye. He caught the pale hound's leap on the knob of his shillelagh, and pushed it aside with a single hand. The fire-hardened wood suffered nary a scratch.

It had been an attack with the intent to kill, but more than that, it was meant to keep him pinned down. Caster was the most vulnerable of the group now, and they wanted to keep it that way. He could only protect one of them at a time, after all. Erika was a girl just as frail as her build suggested, and he couldn't expose her to attack for even a moment.

So, Michael decided. He just needed to bring her somewhere less dangerous.

"Hold on, Miss Kanzaki."

It was all the warning she got before Michael scooped her up with the hand still carrying the case, pinning her to his body. He relaxed his posture, cast his gaze up, took a deep breath, and launched into a run straight towards the several stories-high wall of shipping containers.

Michael straightened his legs, leapt straight up, and kicked off the metal wall with a sound like a massive drum.

He took a step. Then he took one more. After the third, gravity took hold and rid both him and Erika of their upwards momentum.

But he did not fall.

"With great power," he gasped. "Comes great responsibility."

Michael strained every muscle in the body, struggling against gravity, against the weight of his body and of Erika's, and took yet another step. His feet were miraculously stuck tightly to the metal, bearing the weight of two grown adults in clear violation of the laws of physics. Somehow he was able to continue his ascent, walking and then running up the side of the wall despite the added difficulty. His magic would not fail, and neither would his body.

How could he give up? Not on himself, but on that shaking woman, whose racing heartbeat he could feel and hear even through several layers of clothing? No, he wouldn't allow someone so determined to live come to harm under his watch.

He ran up several floors in seconds, leaving in his wake a metallic residue, tinted violet.

Michael stopped only when he had reached the top of the shipping containers. The air above was cleaner, somehow. The stifling metal forest was below them, though not too far. The struggle, and Caster still in the middle of it, was still plainly visible.

Michael set Erika down and smiled apologetically.

"They should have trouble reaching us," he explained. "Lacking magecraft. And thumbs."

He could not have made it up to the top so quickly without the use of that particular spell. Neither, Michael reasoned, could the hounds, being at about his level physically. Which meant he and Erika were safer, if only relatively, much like apes evading predators in the tree tops.

"A moment, please," he said, even as he prepared to fend off more blows. "I'll bring up Caster next."

Wise up

**Katie** · April 18th, 2018, 03:11 PM

Erika Kanzaki
16th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

"Hold on, Miss Kanzaki."

—!

The next thing I know, I’m sailing through the air and in an instant we’re on top of the shipping containers. I take a few slight steps to reorient myself, the sudden motion making me a bit dizzy. I’m tolerant enough—nobody to thank but for onee-chan and her horrid love of rollercoasters—but even so, we’re not safe.

I can feel that much, at least. This only buys time. Michael says something along those lines, echoing my thoughts, but what comes next makes me focus on the reality of the situation.

"I'll bring up Caster next."

“She’ll be okay,” I say, trying to focus on the scene below. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Most importantly, Caster is our ticket to survival, the only one with the resources and firepower to actually deal any meaningful sort of blows to the opponent. In other words, to actually survive, she’s the most integral part of this equation.

“Area designated.
Cease and be still.”

The riverside gales come to a screeching stop. For a brief moment, air freezes in place, boundless molecules and particles halted, an impassible wall. Only enough to intercept the onslaught of the hounds, but it’s good enough.

All I can do, honestly.

Wise up!

**canaki** · April 18th, 2018, 05:25 PM

Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)

After a brief moment of hanging from the sword in the wall, Archer swung his body upwards, landing on the blade. From here, he could simply jump up to the top of this mounds, and -- two hounds had stubbornly chased after him, standing on a narrow strip of metal was suboptimal for dodging -- instantly two arrows appeared in his right hand, and even as he leaped up, his overly simple path was far too predictable, and one hound’s jaws ripped into his right calf.

Was he being careless? Or were these hounds just nothing like he’d ever expected from beasts? Perhaps he should think of them as small dragons… ?

As Archer landed on the top surface of the containers, he rapidly released the arrows he had aimed at the two hounds below.

In the short moment after his arrows left his hand, Archer glanced towards where his Master was, atop a different mound of containers some distance away. He seemed to be faring quite well, actually even better than himself … was that Lady Kanzaki he had besides him? Protecting her?

Truly, his master is far more of a knight than himself.

Wiseup

**Kuroyuki** · April 19th, 2018, 06:34 PM

Akechi Tohsaka
15th of December, 2004
Royal Opera House S
Night (Phase 1-3) A
P

Originally Posted by Rin

“Its been fine, albeit a little dull.”

4

I’m sure Rin’s life is anything but dull and that she’s downplaying it especially since she’s one of the most popular girls in our school. 6

Originally Posted by Rin

“The preparations for the Grail War ended up being somewhat tedious, to say the least, but at least they are done. I would introduce you to Archer, but… This isn’t probably the greatest locale for something like that.”

4

“I would say that depends on who came with you. I imagine that Shakespeare or Mozart would fit very well here… Or cause a giant commotion so maybe meeting them now would be bad right now.” c

Originally Posted by Rin

“Speaking of which, I heard that you got selected as a Master as well, nee-san?”

4

For a brief second, I saw Sakura frown after Rin mentioned me being selected as a Master as well. I knew about Sakura’s… disagreement about us entering this war. After that, there was a fight about her staying out of it. The plan was originally for Shiori, Rin, and Father to enter, but seems like Sakura convinced everyone otherwise. Knowing her, it’s probably because she wouldn’t forgive herself if she was the only one not here and something happened to us. 4

“Yes, I would’ve thought that Father would’ve been chosen, but seems like the fate has other plans.” 5

That's when I asked my question and looks like I timed it just right. The perfect moment to surprise Rin and to relax Sakura just a little bit. 4

Originally Posted by Sakura

“Onee-san, please don’t tease sister like that, you know she is bad with these types of jokes. There is..”

6

I do a mock gasp at Sakura telling me that Rin was weak to these kinds of topics and that Sakura knew something about who Rin liked. 3

“Onee-chan had no idea that Rin-chan was weak to these kinds of attacks~” 5

My tone clearly saying that I was fully aware of it and purposely teasing Rin due to my right as the Eldest Sister. 9

Originally Posted by Rin

“There is absolutely, no-one, thank you very much, Sakura! Hmph! What about yourself, sister?

"You are getting to the age where you need to think about settling down, no?”

6

I waved off her worries. I didn't have to worry about such things. 4

“Onee-chan is a very popular girl at the Clock Tower. I’ll have you know that my ‘social’ circles are very big and diverse. Also now isn’t it the best time to be with someone from one of those circles. Maybe after all of this is over, I'll settle down properly.” 3

I’m well aware of how bad things can get… Especially since I’ve gotten real… close to an Enforcer. One mistake and I could accidentally call down the wrath of the Clock Tower. The only good news that I have is that he shouldn’t be in London. 1

I hid any potential unease by mounting a counterattack on Rin. Granted it’s what I would’ve normally have done, but that question did bother me a little bit. Not enough for me to lose my composure but I get the feeling I'll end up thinking about it again soon.

“It certainly sounds like someone got your attention though. Normally, you would have just calmly said ‘I don’t have an interest in anyone.’ I wonder who is capable of making my little sister protest this loudly. Maybe I should’ve kept a closer eye on the High School as well...”

I waved Sakura over to me so we could have a “private” conversation that Rin just so happened to be able to hear.

“So what is this person’s name? What kind of person is he?”

Golden Falcon	Stats (Master Level)
A falcon seemingly woven out of gold, but that is in fact crystallized sunlight. Its radiance should technically make it ill-suited for reconnaissance [...] Due to being heavily specialised in scouting, the Golden Falcon does not really have any other uses, and is barely apt for combat. The greatest threat it could present to non-servants would be using its nimbleness and agility to go for an attack onto the target’s exposed eyes.	STR AGI END MAG LCK	E C E D C

Thread: Fate/Reclamation (IC)

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