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Fate/Lunaterra ~ RP Thread

Discussion in 'Freeform Roleplays' started by Shadow, Oct 2, 2014.

  1. [​IMG]


    "The final hour draws to a close."

    A simple statement. It was directed at nobody in particular, as it echoed through the empty building, but the mere act of hearing her own voice was enough to clear her mind and steel her nerves. The truth of her own sentence, in a way, provided reassurance in the form of an undeniably encroaching event that she had been extensively trained and prepared for. Though turning back was the last possible option in her mind, the entire prospect was, be it destiny or otherwise, completely disconcerting in a way.

    Because in mere minutes, her life would change.

    It had not changed when a crimson, cross-shaped glyph burned itself in her chest as definite proof of her participation several months ago, nor it had changed when she was led astray from normality and taught the secrets of the world, the philosophy of the arcane, and the principles of Magic three years ago. She could consider those, up to this turning point, as inevitabilities she had no semblance of control over, and thus part of she could consider her life. But now it was different.

    By her judgement, she had established a workshop in this location, opted to finalize all the necessary preparations ahead of time, and now, to be among the first to perform the ritualistic procedure. She had spilled her blood (only a single drop was necessary with the appropriate sacraments), formed the necessary runes and glyphs on the floor, arranged the inactive arrays into a simplistic Spell System, and, standing in front of the unborn magical working, the girl gave an almost questioning glance at the silvery aster hanging in the nighttime sky.

    The moon provided no answers, of course, and only maintained a serene and almost maddening presence. It cast soft argentine light that streamed down the solitary building and illuminated the girl's position, but left the rest of the room untouched. She was a young girl, no physically older than thirteen at the most, her small frame covered in a black habit that, curiously, was colored a deeply contrasting red on the reverse side of the fabric. Her long and silvery hair received the moonlight almost by affinity, but it was mostly covered by an ebony veil, part of her distinctive garments. Two differently-colored orbs gazed back at the task before her, a crimson and amber proof of heterochromia which blinked when the final second simply ticked by.

    Yes, it was vastly different.

    Suddenly, the lines spread on the wooden flooring lit up in functionality. She had kept the blood into liquid form and carefully arranged it to form the necessary graphical components, but now it had transmuted into pure strokes of scarlet Mana which glowed with constant, unwavering energy. It spilled a somewhat eerie red light over its immediate surroundings, shredding the immediate darkness and revealing a bit more of the empty chapel, but despite its apparent intensity, the light was focused on the system itself rather than any other external factors... for now, at least.

    The girl winced slightly as her own glyph--the Command Spell etched in her body--burned alight in synchronicity, but the momentary aching faded as a metal crucifix she wore as a pendant transcribed the Magic and suppressed the reaction into itself, causing a myriad of overlapping runes and symbols to spread over its surface area. The item was meant to be an extension or representation of her Command Spell, and she clutched it momentarily as if to feel the newly-inscribed patterns, but she found its texture as flawless and smooth as when she was first given it.

    It was no surprise, after all. A ritual of such magnitude was utterly impossible by even the Church's most skilled thaumaturges, and only realizable through heavy assistance by the Heaven's Feel. Even the knowledge she used to prepare the Spell System felt immensely, anachronistically advanced compared to the knowledge held by the Church or even the mysterious and secretive crazEcorp, a fact which mystified, more so than unnerved her. The ritual she was about to perform was merely an extension, or rather, a borrowed component of the Heaven's Feel, which extensively relied on the Holy Grail's will much more so than the ability of the practitioner or the precision of the procedures. As such, the automated priming of the system for imminent activation was an expected event.

    Because today marked the start of the Holy Grail War.

    Today, Resta Harzfolge was going to become a Master.
  2. A lonely house stood quietly in the moonlight, a single dim glow radiating from one of the windows at the back of the building. This glow, cast by candles rather than lamps, showed a man in soft relief, a man with strangely-pigmented hair and stranger eyes. He quietly bustled about the room, various assorted "tools" in his arms and candles arranged around a complex glyph of sorts which he carefully avoided stepping on. The man jerked slightly as his pant leg nearly caught fire from one of the candles--

    -- The sound of glass breaking broke the otherwise dead silence of the room.

    "... Shit."

    Xander muttered crossly to himself as his suddenly quick movement dislodged a vial of some gray fluid from the items he was carrying, spilling its contents over the hardwood floor as it shattered. The amateur mage sighed exaggeratedly as he carefully placed everything else on his nearby bed, before crossing his arms and looking sternly at the mess as if that would clean everything up.

    The gray liquid soaked into the floor near the glyph, though thankfully not entering the circle formed by the candles. Xander wasn't even entirely sure what it was; a friend of his had just given him a few vials and told him it would be useful for what he was doing. And he just wasted some of it. He sighed again, scratching the back of his head. "... Hailey's not going to be happy..." Not that he even figured out what the stuff did yet, but still. He'd used it to draw the glyph in the circle, so it wasn't entirely useless.

    Shaking his head and crouching down, Xander reached out to pick up the broken glass. Being careful not to touch the liquid too much, he slowly scooped the shards into his left palm, slightly closing his fingers so the glass would stay in his hand without much risk of cutting himself. Standing up carefully, Xander walks around the glyph again, glancing at the patterns he'd drawn in the circle of candles.

    Unlike the stuff in the vial that had broken, this had already dried and now took on a faintly lustrous silver sheen. Not something like metal, but more like... shiny, watered-down paint. It had a faint blue glow as Xander passed it, and he frowned slightly at the fact, before turning back to the exit to his room--

    -- And walking right into the doorframe.

    Naturally, his hand tensed from the pain and closed firmly around the glass, eliciting a string of swears as Xander ran into the bathroom, washing his hand of blood and gray liquid, the shards of glass clinking into the sink as he dropped them. "Geez, how have I not sent myself to the hospital yet?" Xander complained as the cold water ran over his injured palm. He looked at it to assess the damage, and-- he blinked. Following the lines of cuts, and even going beyond the boundaries of the injury, a strange red pattern now adorned his palm.

    It didn't hurt much anymore, and the red symbols, perfectly symmetrical, looked almost like the blood had soaked in as a sort of tattoo. This was weird. He'd have to ask Hailey about it. Walking back into his room, he ignored the glyph on the ground for a moment as he sat at his desk, turned on the lamp, and examined the pattern on his palm more thoroughly.
  3. A whirl of motion that made up the young woman moved about the room without slowing. "How do I get myself into these things?" She rushed past devices and mechanical parts of various shapes and sizes as she hurried to finish the ritual. After the seventh time passing the same table of parts she hesitated. "So many unfinished projects..." She never wanted to be a part of this stupid war, but as she was the one with the glowing red mark, she wasn't left with much choice.

    Kalonia Ralston lived most her life being told that she would likely have to fight in some war for some wish granting cup. Well, she didn't much care for wishmaking and figured anything she wanted she could get for herself with enough determination. This whole situation could have been avoided if only...

    A shake of the head puts the mind back into focus and Kalonia got back to work. She was average enough height, not too short, not too tall, which sat well enough with her. Her dark chestnut hair was kept up in a ponytail to keep from getting in the way of her work. More than once it was suggested that she cut it shorter so she wouldn't have to deal with it, but she never paid much heed. If she could change anything, it would be the seemingly glowing amber eyes. Blue would have suited her just fine.

    Kalonia made a few more last minute preparations on the arcane circle and stood before it, examining and double checking. It was about that time now, and she needed to be ready. With a nod and a grin she sat on the workbench she positioned before the circle. Beside her were a pair of gauntlets with a polished sheen and clawed fingers, which she lifted and dawned upon herself. No mistakes, this had to be done right.

    Around the arcane circle were six evenly spaced metal poles. She hoped that would be enough.
  4. A rebellious sigh could be heard through the basement. It was the only sound aside from the splattering of liquid in a complex circle. It would probably be a disturbing sight for anyone not involved, seeing a boy drawing a large sigil like this in blood, with his stern-faced father watching him, even judging him.

    The boy, Reiner Behrend, sighed because that's all he had left. He had fought against his father enough about this, but when that tattoo thing -- command spell, his father called it -- appeared on his arm a few days ago, Reiner knew that he wouldn't be able to defy his father any longer. Reiner knew enough from his learning as a magus to know that he was now marked for the Holy Grail War -- that ruthless battle between seven magi over the Holy Grail, fought with Servants much like familiars.

    At least he was numbed to the thick stench of blood by now. When he first started the ritual, that metallic smell overwhelmed his senses. At least he wasn't bothered by the blood itself.

    Soon, however, the ritual circle was finished, now surrounded by candles. "Now transfer the mana into the ritual," came his father's voice, strict and commanding, more like an uncaring teacher than a real father.

    "I know, I know," Reiner complained, now receiving a glare from his father. Frustratedly running a hand through his light brown, shaggy hair which he rarely bothered fixing up, he eventually got into the position his father showed him, pointing his right hand towards the circle, holding it up with his left.

    Reiner gritted as the command spell, a fairly large, tattoo-like design with lightning bolts surrounding a strangely threatening abstract design in the center, all orange in color, began to burn as mana was transferred from Reiner to the circle.
  5. "D-did you really have to use blood?"

    Carl Ziino stood there, crouched in the middle of Crimson summoning star. He wore the outfit of a professional butler, different only in golden stitching alike to magic runes, and a decorative sword at his side. He had bright orange hair and red eyes that were clearly not his own. Along his shoulder was a towel stained in the blood he was surrounded with. By his feet there were bottles of crimson liquid, each of a very subtly different shade, each glowing from some magical aftereffect. They were arranged in a circle around him like a deranged painter’s palette. With a fine paintbrush, he stroke very carefully as he intended, before meticulously wiping up any imperfections with his towel. A few minutes late to reply, he spoke:

    "Blood is the best fit for a ritual of war and battle."

    With this, he stood up, grabbed the bottles and brush and walked towards his friend. A blue dragon with two relatively simple horns and a black tunic, lay there on his side. Behind him stood a complex gateway, constructed of shining purple glyphs on the wall of the abandoned building. Its glow provided the only reasonable light for the barren and filthy room, unless one counted the faint luminescence of the magically disturbed blood.

    "This is creepy though. You're going to summon someone insane." The dragon, Dise, protested. Carl threw the bottles and bloodstained towel in Dise's direction and gestured to take them away. "I can only imagine the Archmage would argue that's the fun of it. On his behalf and I don't see it fit to cut corners on the finer themes." As he said this, we walked back toward the ritual, and removed the glove on his right hand, the hand with the command spell, and its swirling star-like pattern. He wiped it off with a sanitized rag, before placing it gently on the blooded star and hummed a chant under his breath.
  6. A few long seconds passed as Reiner transferred Mana to the summoning circle before him, nothing appearing to happen for a moment. Just as it began to seem like the summoning would result in failure, the glyph shone brightly before a brilliant flash of light overtook the room. It took several seconds for the light to fade, if only slightly; if one could see past the flash, they would see a swirl of deep blue energy over the summoning circle.

    The light finally began to die off, but the suspended burst of energy remained for a moment. It began to reveal a shape- no, take a form itself- as the light faded fully, leaving only the energy's own, lesser radiance. Immediately notable was that the shape the energy was taken did not remotely resemble that of a human, which is probably what most Masters would expect when summoning a Servant.

    No, this figure was too short, but somehow too large, to be human. As the energy solidified, four long legs and a bushy tail were the most notable features of... whatever was being summoned. The energy faded from navy blue into black as it dissipated around the Servant- revealing coarse, onyx fur that only served to give the emerald green eyes sharp relief. Two pointed ears flicked forward as the creature observed the one who had summoned it.

    A wolf stood before Reiner.

    It was eerily calm, considering where it was, and the glint of intelligence in its eyes made it clear this was no normal wolf. It held its head high, ears up but tail relaxed, as it gazed at its summoner with what could only be described as boredom.
  7. And thus, she began.

    Chanting suppressed the silence. Resta's voice was soft and harmonious, echoing through the empty building and dispersing into the air. It was much unlike a spoken incantation that carried the activation sequence in the meaning of the words; instead, it was an arcane, wordless aria that poured the girl's will and gave the primed arrays before her a purpose which, although entirely unspoken, was very clearly defined.

    There was nobody around to even perceive the ritual, of course, as she had made sure of that. Her thaumaturgic workshop had been established in a tiny, desolate chapel that had not been used in years, located almost innocuously around the less metropolitan, residential areas of the city. Although the building itself took considerable effort to rehabilitate, it was also attached to quite modest living quarters that later came to comprise the premises of her workshop, so she was quite content with the end result. In the end, she had chosen to conduct the ritual inside the chapel itself, primarily for the ease of it.

    Without even thinking, she had already stopped her incantation; there was no need for it anymore, as the symbolographic array on the ground had successfully reacted to the girl's imparted will even before she had finished. Pulses of light flowed through each line and stroke at a steadily quickening rhythm, almost as a heartbeat, coursing through the composition of the circle until there was no rune or symbol which was not overflowing with magical energy. The light surged upwards almost as it was a tangible existence, as a concentration of radiant Mana began obscuring the space within the summoning circle.

    It had successfully connected to the Heaven's Feel.

    Though initially stepping back and shielding her eyes due to the intensity of the light, Resta straightened and, with a commanding tone, called:

    "I summon thee, Saber!"
  8. Several seconds had passed, and Carl Ziino's chanting seemed to have had no notable results. But soon, the crimson star began to shine, bursting into a flash that filled the entire room in a brilliant red.

    But this flash would not last as long as expected.

    From the source of the flash erupted a violent surge of dark mist which then drowned out the light of the summoning star within a matter of seconds. And at this point, it showed no signs of stopping as it then began to blanket the interior of the room. What little remaining light was gradually drowned out as the room gradually darkened, eventually reaching a point where seeing one's own hand in front of their face would be almost impossible. This darkness then settled within the room for what seemed to be a minute. Then all at once, the dark mist pulled back towards the source, the room returning to its normal light level as a result. The dark mist violently swirled in an orb-like shape above the summoning star, at this point of stopping.

    The mass of dark mist remained as it was for several second, after which something seemed to emerge from within it... What appeared to be a black, clawed hand jut from within the orb, and then cut through it. As it made its slicing motion, something even more unusual could be seen on the back of it. A strange, half-opened eye with a gold pupil. After this hand had apparently finished its job of cutting through the orb, the hand retreated back into it. But almost immediately after, the swirling dark mist began to disperse and dissipate, as it had seemingly been quelled. In its place was a lone woman levitating above the blood star on the floor. Based on her appearance alone, she seemed to be a human, dressed in a black and dark violet dress. Her face was concealed by the hood of her cloak covering her dress. But her concealed gaze was seemingly fixed upon the two other lifeforms within the room as she remained where she was, her arms crossed as she awaited reactions from these two.
  9. She hadn't sat long before Kal was on her feet again. From all her history experimenting and inventing she'd grown rather obsessed with final tweaking and triple checking. Crouched next to one of the poles, she removed a small panel on the base to reveal an equally small console. A green light shined with the word "ACTIVE" above it. With a couple of button presses the tiny screen displayed "0%. SYSTEM ACTIVE. INPUT COMMAND." Returning the panel, she proceeded to check the other five poles to ensure they all read the same.

    Satisfied, but a bit disappointed with herself for having felt the need to check a fourth time within the last twenty minutes, she returned to her seat. Feeling very nervous, she decided to check her controls once more as well; reading a tiny display on her left gauntlet that simply read "SYNCED" calmed her down a little. Why was she getting so worked up over something so truly simple? Of course the machine would work, she made it. Afraid? Of course she was! Kal was about to enter a war!

    "No. This ends before it begins." Kalonia rose to her feet with a semblance of her old determination. She raised her lightly shaking hands before her and began the magical feed. A spark, a glow, a radiance, a blur of light. "Come, Servant, that I may be free!"

    The press of a tiny button on a left gauntlet changes a simple word to "ACTIVATED" and lightning shoots between the metal poles, connecting them all in a ring around the ritual circle. Checking the tiny display finds "10%." So far so good.
  10. Both of the magi in the room stared at the result for a few moments. "Figures that you'd summon a regular familiar," Reiner's father scoffed obviously unimpressed with the outcome, making his way to the stairs. "I guess we'l try again tomorrow, if you can handle it." The man's voice showed little compassion, as at the moment, he was a teacher and a fellow magi, not a father.


    There was no way that Reiner would have failed the ritual. He did everything correctly, the toll he felt on his body from the depletion of mana, and the lingering burning sensation in his arm, as if the command spell was telling him "this is your Servant"... It had to have worked. Besides, as Reiner looked closer at the wolf in the center, he could tell it was no ordinary wolf familiar.

    Its eyes seemed to shine against its black fur, and they even gave the suggestion of it being completely sapient. Reiner knew that this wolf would be his Servant in the coming Holy Grail War, though he didn't know why it would summon a wolf, even one that felt as powerful as this.

    By now, Reiner's father had already climbed the stairs, most likely already heading off to bed. Seizing the chance, Reiner took out a rectangular package and lighter. While Reiner couldn't care less if his father knew he smoked, he knew that there'd no doubt be some big blow-up about and that would be a waste of everyone's time.

    Reiner took outa cigarette and lit it with the lighter, taking in and blowing out a puff of smoke before he spoke. "So, which Servant are you?" he asked, not sounding particularly interested or amazed at what had just happened.


    Resta's call had not gone unanswered. Though perhaps in a way that Resta was not expecting. As the mana surged up from the ritual, it began to change. At first, it simply started out as a different feeling to mana -- similar, but still different. After about a minute, even a novice magus would have been able to see that there was something different from the pillar of bright, white light. But even then, it began to change more.

    The light began to split into different colors. Sections of it began to change to red and blue, alternating between them withing the pillar. They quickly stopped being a pillar altogether, and began breaking up into globules of energy, seeming to bubble up from the ritual, and get drawn into a small, amorphous ball that was becoming larger as more energy was sucked into it. After a few seconds of this, the energy stopped flowing into the ball, leaving it floating there, pulsating wildly with clumps of blue and red energy.

    This was no longer mana, but Eon -- a prototypic, incomplete form of Eon, but Eon nonetheless. It hung in the air, for what felt like minutes, but would have been mere seconds, until it burst violently within the magic glyphs laid on the floor of the chapel with a brilliant flash, catching on fire the wood that was within it, but not touching anything outside.

    At first, it would have seemed like the ritual had failed. However, as one's eyes readjusted to the meager light, even with the burning circle of wood, they would see that there was a man in the center of it, somewhat short by any standards. His black hair was messy over his heterochromatic blue and red eyes, and he wore a formal outfit, broken by the two guns that he kept visible at his waste -- an old-fashioned revolver and a modern automatic pistol.

    He stepped out of the burning glyph, the fires already reduced to merely an inch, if that in height, and looked at the girl in front of him. A facial expression that managed to convey both incredulity and pity at the girl in religious attire. "Are you the Master that summoned me?" the man said, his voice conveying much the same as his face, only with a small amount of deference thrown in. If this girl had summoned him, she would be his Master, thus, it would be unbecoming to come off callously right off the bat.[/hr]
  11. Shuuga shuuga shuuga


    Wearing a devious smile, the teenage boy deftly drew the last detail in lime green spray paint. Sprawled before him was a complicated graffiti circle, glowing even before the inevitable application of Mana due to its contrast with the dim urban night. The boy and his act of vandalism sat alone in the middle of a run-down lot, the surrounding area so abandoned that vines grew and crept everywhere along the chain link fences and walls, and the only witness the boy ran a risk of alerting was a scruffy stray dog which was missing a leg.

    Speaking of which...

    "I could probably use your blood, you know," the boy called out nonchalantly, glancing up at the bedraggled canine which watched his activity warily from several dozen yards away. The dog's curious amber eyes looked away timidly, and it hesitantly took a limping step back. Scoffing at the disreputable creature, the blond-haired male decisively administered one last arc of spray paint and then stood back to appraise his work. Critical green eyes scanned every bit of the intricate design, eyebrows and lips gradually turning up to reflect his satisfaction. "Just one more touch..." he commented, sounding rather like a meticulous artist whose masterpiece was nearly finished. Withdrawing a knife from its sheath attached to his leg, he indifferently slashed one of his palms and let the blood well out for a moment before flicking the scarlet offering into the middle of the arrangement. "Anything less than a personal sacrifice would be a disrespect," he soliloquized, brilliant eyes focused on the arcane circle as he retreated a bit further and stretched his cut left hand forth, holding it steady with his right as if it were a weapon.

    Visible in the pale luminescence, the boy considered the red marking inscribed on the back of his left hand once more. Sharp and symmetrical in form, he had found it on himself just earlier today, as if waking up with a new tattoo. He knew what it was, though. And he knew what it meant. It meant he was chosen.

    "Let's get to summoning, then," the boy muttered eagerly, releasing a deep breath and allowing his Mana to concentrate... along his arm... down to his hand... through his fingers... the red mark alighted as he transferred the energy to the large inscription in front of him; a blue glow switched on inside the elaborate lines and an ethereal teal shimmer blinded the insignificant ground as noble cerulean light filled the area. Ignoring the sensation in his hand, the teenager stood firm and observed the majestic phenomenon with a self-assured grin, a determined expression playing across his features.


    Unnoticed by Xander, a blue glow had ignited in the glyph. From the center radiating outwards pulsed azure waves, as if the system of lines had become a creature's heart. The frequency of the waves escalated quickly until the illumination was practically consistent, and the brightness intensified until the mystic light swallowed the entire room. A rough rumbling started somewhere distant and far below, but seemed to shake the whole house; the chaos continued in this way for a moment before, suddenly, the blue radiance perverted into a mad red aura, accompanied by a brutal shout from nearby that was both distinctly human and yet concertedly monstrous. All light abruptly drained from the vicinity as a horrible crashing noise issued from adjacent to Xander's room; it wasn't hard to guess that the house's structure itself was being destroyed. Another terrible cry was audible as something large and heavy pierced through the wall and slashed along it as if it were paper, and then followed with a wrenching blow that left a gaping hole in the divider.

    Through all of the debris and dust and mess, a short humanoid figure could be seen crouching on all fours, what looked through the screen of disaster like a gigantic scorpion's tail lashing everywhere and ruining the unsuspecting Xander's house without regard. The being's face snapped in the direction of the young adult's room when it became visible; the monster was a young human male, postured like an animal atop a wrecked sofa and dressed in a red sweatshirt and black jeans. Something about his expression didn't fit a human, though-- there was no mercy, no reason, nor emotion except a primal desire to rip through everything reflected in the boy's green eyes and bared, snarling mouth.

    This changed, however, upon settling its gaze on Xander. Intelligence overtly returned to the boy's behavior, and his features settled into that of a typical, moody, disinterested 13-year-old. He stood up a bit awkwardly and looked around at the result of his outburst. Hopping down from the overturned sofa onto a solid pile of wood dropped from the ceiling, the boy once again returned his gaze to Xander. "Dude, your house is a wreck," he noted bitterly, clearly subverting the blame as if he had nothing to do with it. "Whatever. I'm Berserker," he offered as if in a perfectly complete introduction. His expression devolved into a look of vain superiority as his black 'tail'-- in actuality a weapon wider than an adult male's arm, ending in a deadly and powerful blade reminiscent of both a spear's tip and a scorpion's stinger, scrawled with bloodred veins along with the flexible, segmented, metallic shaft-- slithered through the air all the way towards Xander and settled with its lethal tip near the man's throat. "Don't expect me to call you 'Master'."
  12. The wolf's eyes flicked to the older magus for a moment as he began speaking- and its ears flattened slightly against its head, with a quiet growl, at being referred to as a "regular familiar". It watched the man leave, regarding him coolly and with an irritation notably strange for a wolf to display.

    The click of the lighter brought the wolf's attention back to his summoner. A query about which Servant he was- so, clearly, the boy was better about jumping to conclusions than his father. Making no reply for several seconds- more or less unable to- the wolf regarded the boy quietly for a moment before slowly, assuredly walking out of the summoning circle. Head still held high and blunt nails clicking against the floor, the wolf tilted its head with an expression that almost said "seriously?" before it seemed to sigh.

    The black fur receded as the wolf's shape began to change. The snout blunted and shrunk, the ears shortened and moved down, the spine straightened and the creature rose onto its hind legs. Clothes appeared out of apparently nowhere; black attire with the occasional dark blue accent mark. Beyond an ornate pentagram pendant and an ivory bow with golden inlay strapped to his back, this Servant looked like any modern teen. Keeping the jet-black, almost messy hair and the faintly luminous verdant eyes, the Servant was silent for a moment longer.

    After looking his summoner up and down, as if appraising him, the newcomer finally spoke. "... Rider." The voice was naturally quiet, with a faint and almost unidentifiable accent. Now identified, Rider crossed his arms, almost looking like he wanted to say something, but for now it's clear he's saving his breath. All that can be said, really, is this Shapeshifter doesn't look particularly content.


    Xander reached for his cell phone after being unable to identify the strange, red mark on his palm. Punching in a familiar number one-handed, he lifted the phone up to his right ear and glanced absentmindedly back at his glyph--

    His eyes widened in shock as the glyph summoned something and that something was now attempting to destroy his house. Xander quickly sprang to his feet and took a few steps forward before realizing that was probably a really bad move. "Wait, what the hell is--" He cut himself off and ducked as a hole was blown in the wall in front of him. Almost timidly, he looked up.

    A young boy was positioned like an animal atop his now destroyed couch, glaring about the room like some murderous demon called from the pits of hell. Xander gaped for a few seconds and froze in shock as the boy's gaze locked on him, and the person Xander was trying to call happened to pick that exact moment to pick up.


    Xander remained silent, unable to speak for several seconds, as the boy seemed to obtain human reasoning ability and awkwardly stood up. Xander opened his mouth to say something, either to respond to the girl's voice on the phone or to talk to whatever the hell he'd ended up summoning, but the boy hopped down from his perch and looked at him again, making some comment about the state of the house and introducing himself as "Berserker".

    "... Hello?"

    Fitting name, all things considered. Berserker's expression was taking on a rather threatening light, though, considering which one of the two was obviously the most prepared for what was happening. Berserker's tail- no, weapon, with a frightening sort of spearhead- extended towards Xander, as the boy made some remark Xander couldn't puzzle out--


    "Don't kill me!"

    Xander spoke hastily, not even addressing the girl's voice which sounded annoyed. Okay, normally he wasn't this shaken up, but normally a thirteen-year-old boy wasn't destroying his house and aiming some sort of demonic spear at him. Clearing his throat slightly and very slowly regaining his composure, he stood up straighter.

    "... Xander, is that you?" The girl asked, tone less annoyed now. "Why would I kill you?"

    Keeping his eyes on "Berserker" for a moment, Xander finally responded to the girl. "Hey, uh, Hailey... I kinda have a problem here..."
  13. The night was long and seemed to hold an infinite number of possibilities. The apprehension that dwelled within Blaise only grew larger as she could feel the energies of the Heaven's Feel coursing through the city almost like the rushing of lifeblood. She stood atop a skyscraper's roof, watching the moon as it flew by on its course to set. The Holy Grail War... Blaise dreamed of the day that she would finally participate, but as if the world were out to inhibit this desire, the chance had slipped through her fingers. Seven were chosen, and she was not a part of them. She clenched her fists as tears welled in her eyes. What she wouldn't give to have her dream come true... What she wouldn't give... She drew her arms into herself and sunk to the floor. How long would she have to wait before she received an invitation to participate? Would she ever realize her dream? The Holy Grail had the power to make all she needed come to fruition, but it seemed that Blaise would never possess it... unless she didn't play fair. Blaise looked at the moon now, which seemed to always be present no matter where she went. If the opportunity would not come to her itself, she would create one. Blaise stood, the tears that had welled up already fallen down her face, but with a smile that hinted at malignance. She would create an opportunity. The Grail would be hers, no matter what... even if it meant taking it illegitimately.

    A breeze started to pick up when she stood, blowing her hair towards the side. With a determined stride, she crossed the roof of the skyscraper and opened the door to the staircase that lead her there. She would make sure that this wouldn't slip from her grasp again.
  14. As his surroundings went dark with mist, Carl took the moment to fetch his glasses from his pocket and admire the light, err, Darkness show before him. As the mist settled and the servant came to a pause, Carl folded his arms and nodded in approval. He turned to his dragon companion and tossed him the rag he used to clean his hands before the ritual, adding to the pile. "I told you the blood would summon someone who knew what they were doing."

    "Uhh, well you have fun with that. I'll go put this stuff away. I suppose there must be someone else who could find a use for it." With that, the dragon scooped the materials to his belly, and lazily rolled over his back and  into the panel of Glyphs behind him. As he touched it, he and vials and rags dissolved into a thick light and dispersed into the gateway. As Dise went, Carl put his inscribed hand to his temple, let out a sigh and shook his head in disappointment.

    Carl turned back around and faced his summon. He gave her a quick bow, fitting his status as a butler. His voice changed from the commanding tone he used with the dragon, to that a servile tranquility. "Please excuse the delay. From what I understand of the Grail, you know perfectly well why we're here. But please, before we discuss strategy, let me hear of the legends that have brought you here before me." He made eye contact with the women, his gaze confident and sharp. Perhaps more importantly, they seemed to gleam with a light of their own, only noticeable because of the room's darkness. He walked calmly forward, extending his inscribed hand. "My name is Carl Ziino, pleased to meet you."
  15. Ultimately, the amorphous globule of energy burst into a brilliant dichromatic flash. It forced Resta, who had been watching the strange spectacle with amazement, out of her stupor, both by the suddenness of the event and by the sharp pulsing of her Command Spell, apparently in response to this. She immediately brought up one of her arms to her face, completely shielding her darkness-adjusted eyes from the intense light that filled the entire chapel portion of the building.

    Did I... succeed? a lone thought surfaced almost mindlessly, but she immediately discarded the worst possibility. The reaction of her crimson contract was unmistakable--she could even say for certainty it had been finalized as the soulbound oath between Master and Servant. A mere two seconds transpired before the luminosity had subsided to reasonable levels, and it was then that Resta lowered her arm and gazed at the fruits of her ritual.

    Aside from the diminishing circle of flames and the residual particles of Mana that floated lazily around the room as proof of realized Magic, the original atmosphere of the chapel had returned... only now that it also carried a certain sense of gravity to it. The Servant before her spoke, and their stares connected as his question dissolved into the air. For some reason, the fact that his eyes displayed heterochromatic hues rose above everything else, but of course, she was also fully aware of the powerful presence of this existence.

    "May this Command Spell be proof of our contract, Saber." Resta spoke smoothly, reaching out for her crucifix without breaking eye contact and holding it in front of her, intending to display the intricate patterns and symbols that would be immediately attributed to a Command Spell. She ignored her Servant's incredulous expression (it was somewhat expected, after all, when having been summoned by a little girl), and basked in her triumph instead.

    The thaumaturge smiled at the success of her ritual, and this transitioned into a genuine (but somewhat silly) grin of joy as she let the Servant absorb the facts laid before him. Examining the man more thoroughly, however, yielded minute inconsistencies. As her eyes carefully inspected the Servant, she found it increasingly odd that there was a blatant lack of pointers that would otherwise confirm his status as the Saber Class. Resta was about to remark about the lack of visible armor or at least a melee weapon of sorts in the Servant's person, when she noticed the handguns around his waist.

    She immediately froze.

    "W-wait. Waaaiiit." she stammered, suddenly losing all previous composure. Her smile had vanished--all that remained was a more exasperated variant of the incredulity in her Servant's expression. "...Y-You aren't Saber, are you...?"


    And Kalonia's summons were heeded. The percentile display on each of the protruding poles around the ritualistic site abruptly spiked in numerical value, and then gradually began to ascend as the graphical components pulsed in activation. What could be initially called a display of floating fragments of light rapidly escalated in intensity as the colorless spectacle acquired form and color, with Mana gravitating inwards and towards the summoning glyph and shifting in color to a deep, azure hue that seemed to resonate with one's very soul.

    Soon, it could not be called a surge of congregating and streams of light anymore, having instead transformed into a powerful vortex of magical energy centered on the ritualistic site. Mana endlessly collided and clashed within the confines of the summoning glyph, flawlessly annihilating into rapidly-decaying Excess particles as if subject to an aetheric variant of nuclear fusion, and thus creating a contortion in the very fabric of reality. It was a light distortion at first, but it became especially notorious as the vortex's strength intensified with each passing second.

    This was no ordinary Servant.

    But then, the forces wavered anomalously. The spiral weakened in drawing power, losing integral consistency as the unhinged portions of space tried to decompress and return to normality. Outside interference was disrupting and reversing the course of the otherwise harmonious flow of Mana, depriving the Lesser Ritual of the fixed amount of potential that it was allowed to borrow from the Greater Ritual, and thus jeopardizing the entire summoning process. The irregularity shredded the distortions of light and space slightly--enough to reveal the half-materialized silhouette of a humanoid, but nothing more.

    A blur of indescribably invisible motion cut through the air. It was the extremely swift swinging of something long, sharp and ethereal--like a longsword or a spear--that completed a full revolution around its axis in the span of a split second. The cacophony of shredding metal filled the air through the rushing hum of energy, as it cleanly and effortlessly sliced through each and every rod in quick succession, and sailed dangerously close to Kalonia herself.

    Nigh-instantaneously, the overloaded vortex exploded outwards. With the obstructions gone, the Manalistic reaction had no choice but to compensate for the insufficiency of available in the previous few moments, as a violent backlash for the alteration in the flux of power. Particles of (thankfully harmless) Mana swirled around the room like a storm which, combined with ripples of spatial distortion that traveled like shockwaves, obscured all semblance visibility. Though raging for what seemed like minutes, the otherworldly cyclone soon thinned and then vanished entirely, signalling the completion of the ritual.

    The room was miraculously intact, at least in structure. This state could not be used to describe the objects positioned immediately near the summoning area, but the damage done was incredibly generous considering the strength of the magical backlash. More importantly, however, was the fact that a figure now stood inside the now-inactive circle of runes and symbols.

    A Servant.

    Outwardly, he was a male teenager, physically around 18 years of age. His obsidian-black hair, slightly longer than normal, was rather messy and perhaps even unkempt to a degree, and his marginally-scrawny build suggested anything but ability for combat. His eyes--a deep, honest blue that appeared to be capable of piercing into very core of anything--were powerful in every meaning of the word. Not just his stare in particular; they seemed to hold a certain, untold potential within the mere act of observation.

    His attire was unusual, but certainly not out of place. His most distinguishing garment was a light, open overcoat with dark gray lining, its bottom-most edges seeming to be flowing and ever-changing due to them simply dissolving into nothingness, as it if were immaterial. Other than that, however, there was nothing truly notorious: he wore a plain gray t-shirt underneath that, and his pants were similar to the overcoat, but just in motif and design.

    He looked around almost with boredom, purposely ignoring the young woman at first and inspecting the room's state, before his gaze settled on Kalonia.

    He sighed, crossing his arms.

    "...Really?" his voice carried a tinge of defeat to it, but it was otherwise completely skeptical at the turn of events.

    "Trying to kill me even before I've been formally summoned... quite the Master I got here, heh."


    Elsewhere, a functionally-identical ritual hummed into activation as its magical array immediately responded to the boy's Mana feed. The symbolography imprinted on the ground was instantly traced by intense strokes of ethereal teal, which proceeded to act as channels of overflowing Mana. The magical aether drifted upwards, slowly at first, as it clumped into shining, teal orbs of energy. The display could be called beautiful, even, in the first moments of the ritual's activation, but the influx of energy escalated, elegance and style was traded for effective power.

    The region within the summoning circle effectively crystallized into a structure of undying, cerulean shimmer, as the condensation level of Mana rose exponentially by completely unknown means, enough to become visible as a flowing, teal-colored aura that tinted the very air. It was not flowing from nor being channeled by the ritualistic procedure; rather, it was as if the very act of summoning was bringing a humongously large concentration of the energy, which proceeded to immediately coagulate and add into primary formation, which had roughly taken the dimensions defined within the circle's perimeter.

    Suddenly, the anomalous conditions normalized. The oversaturated Mana was immediately drawn into the crystalline structure, and the patterns that defined the summoning circle powered down. Then, the formation crumbled--no, it disassembled. Prisms and other geometric shapes unhinged from the primary structure, rearranging themselves almost mechanically as if part of a tridimensional jigsaw puzzle, before dissolving into the form of a... being that now stood in front of the boy.

    It was a humanoid, covered in black and accentuated in intense cyan highlights. It was clad in a slim, black armor from some unknown metalloid that revealed coursing azure energy from within linear gaps and tiny openings, and protruding portions of the strange, fiber-like plating--particularly centered on the limbs--were dyed in glowing cyan hues that had, individually, probably more Mana than any practiced magus in this city. All of its armored digits ended in clawed, gauntleted endings that were also deeply imbued with magical energy. It spouted a vicious-looking helmet with no visible openings aside from illuminated patterns vaguely defining where eyes would normally be, with two spiked, ear-like protrusions jutting out and straight up.

    Parts of its entire form were shrouded in concentrations of Mana so intense that they manifested as visually-perceptible phenomena--as an aura of plasmatic energy that flowed like a flame, but also maintained consistency as if it was lightning. It was an overpowering, imposing presence more so than a fearsome one, and one would not have been able to identify what it was, were it not for the distinctly feminine voice that emanated from inside the helmet.

    "I, Servant Saber, have been summoned in accordance to the Holy Grail War. Are you my Master?"
  16. The woman watched the two as they had responded to her presence, noting the calmness of the only other human in the room. Probably because this was the intended result. Or maybe because he was not yet aware of what he had just summoned to Terra. Whatever it was, she couldn't help but be slightly amused by this, even if her expression of such was concealed within the darkness of her cloak. Nevertheless, her gaze focused on these two, briefly eying the dragon as it eventually left. Her attention fixated back upon Carl as he gave her a bow and then began to speak directly to her. It was fitting of the fact that he was dressed as a butler, but given how he was presenting himself to her, it was almost as if he was her servant, the irony of which amused her even more.

    The woman took note of the confident gleam in Carl's eyes as he made eye contact with her. It was several seconds after he had revealed his name to him that she had finally responded. "Hmm... 'Legend' certainly isn't the word I would use to describe my story of how I have been brought to this place." She then chuckled. "Not to worry though, Ziino. There is plenty of time for me to regale you of my story. I will say that this certainly won't be the first war that I have participated in." She paused as she slowly raised her right hand toward her concealed chin. It appeared to be the very hand that had cut through the swirling dark mist that had previously filled the room. "It's too bad, though... Fewer participants likely means that this war will be less exciting than the last..."

    The woman then glanced back to Carl. "But enough about that for the time being." She then reached her hand out toward the human, grasping onto his hand in acceptance of his offer of a handshake. It likely wouldn't be as strong of a grip as his would be, but it would also mean a smaller chance of crushing his hand. Or puncturing it with what appeared to be her claws. "As for myself, I am Caster."
  17. The gauge reached 11% when the mana flux began to surge. Kal expected resistance, but this was beyond even her greatest calculations. A distortion of some kind of mana fluctuation rippled out- no, it was calculated, it was focused- and in an instant, the channel rods were nothing but a heap of scrap. "Uh oh..." The mana eruption came and Kal lifted her guarded arms to protect her self as the blast knockedher backward before she caught her footing and staggered to regain her breath.

    The force of the seemingly relentless mana swirled about the room, turning tables and spilling drawrs and cabinets of parts and devices all over the floor. Whatever she just summoned, it was a lot more powerful than she had ever anticipated. She factored the possibility of her machine failing, so she was completely surprised when she discovered it to be the result, but this?

    The rage of mana finally settled and dissipated, revealing a young looking man. He couldn't be older than I am. She watched him alertly as the man scanned the room before speaking, showing no sign of surprise by what happened himself. "My apologies, sir. I harbor no ill-will toward you, I merely intended to prevent the war." She examined the read on her gauntlet as she spoke, trying to avoid looking into those eyes. 13%. Even her worst-case scenario suggested a result of anything close to this scale at around 58%. Powerful. "My name is Kalonia, and I'd prefer you don't refer to me as Master."
  18. Reiner took another puff of the cigarette, merely glancing at the Servant changed from a wolf to a humanoid. Reiner gave a smug smirk as the servant introduced himself. "Rider, huh?" he said, a wry tone appearing in his voice, as if plotting something. "Just so you know, I don't really care about this 'Holy Grail,' thing," Reiner admitted, his voice was now a mocking whine, deepening on the words "Holy Grail" as if imitating his father. "But I gotta admit. This whole thing sounds like fun."

    Reiner then took a particular large puff on the cigarette, more or less finishing it of. He held it infor a moment, then exhaled the smoke mostly through his nose. With the cigarette finished, and the tobacco-smoke dissipated, Reiner reached for a conveniently placed cup, and threw the butt inside of it, then began walking to the stairs. "Nothing much more to do down here, Rider," he said, once again inhis exasperated tone, "might as well go upstairs."

    The man did not respond to his Master's mistake in his identity. Obviously she was looking to obtain a specific Servant, and this man was obviously not the Servant Saber. Quite far from it, really. In fact, he was obviously not a melee fighter of any kind.

    Then the girl seemed to begin looking over him; he simply raised an eyebrow as his master appraised him. If it was anyone's place to appraise anyone here, it was his own. His Master, at first glance, did not seem like much, with her being such a young girl, but the Servant could definitely see that she had potential. A she realized her mistake, the Master went into a minor panic.

    "Look at you, jumping to conclusions," the Servant said with a small smile, obviously enjoying the display -- not out of contempt, but out of the same that any adult might find a child like this amusing. "But no. I am obviously not a swordsman."

    He took out the revolver, holding it in his left hand and bringing his arm across his chest, giving a bow. "I am the Servant Archer. I will be your loyal soldier and guardian in this Holy Grail War." he said as he bowed, before a small glint came to his eyse, "Unless, of course, you want to try for another... Though I suppose it doesn't work quite like that."

    Despite his joking, Archer's overall demeanor was one of deference. He knew his place, but that didn't mean he couldn't do a little teasing.[/hr]
    #18 The Kakuzato, Oct 5, 2014 at 10:31 PM
    Last edited: May 11, 2017
  19. From the otherworldly light show emerged a tenebrous, almost regal figure. As the last formations of potent energy produced by the ritual faded into the pallid night, the being in nocturne splendor spoke in a definitively feminine voice, "I, Servant Saber, have been summoned in accordance to the Holy Grail War. Are you my Master?" Before her, the boy's chartreuse eyes narrowed in the way of one whose plans were coming together.

    "Yes, I am," he replied evenly, moving his left arm diligently across his chest with the palm inward, displaying the crimson insignia on his hand which still tingled from the ceremony. The teenager continued in a formal tone, "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Servant Saber. My name is Kaden Casus." And then, in a slightly forced manner, added, "For the purposes of the Holy Grail War, I would prefer you call me 'Casey'..."

    Lowering his arm, Kaden went on, maintaining eye contact with the dark helmet his Servant wore. "Regardless, there's some business we have to go over before anything. I don't know as much about the Grail War as I would like, you see, so any information you can offer on the subject would be helpful." Glancing at the three-legged canine that was cautiously creeping out from behind a wall after running away, baying, a minute ago, the blonde-haired teen finished congenially, "Of course, we can go over this elsewhere, if you'd like. I was thinking of checking you into a hotel nearby, assuming you can make yourself more... casual," he noted, casting his gaze over Saber's unusual armor. Battle-ready his Servant may be, though such an outfit and aura would easily draw attention when walking the streets, even at midnight.


    "Don't kill me!"

    The man's utterance brought a wicked grin to Berserker's face. Cowering, pain, and a look of fright or any variation thereof were all things he liked to see in other people. Keeping his blade trained on Xander's neck, although allowing it to slowly orbit around to the back, Berserker dismissed the next sentence the man spoke into the phone and scoffed, "Put the cell away." Turning away, Berserker observed the remainder of his apparent host's living room with a scowl. "As for ground rules, don't even think about trying to order me around; even your Command Spells won't work on me," he directed over his shoulder, glancing up and seeing the nighttime sky through a large gap in the ceiling. "Keep your distance in battles. You'll just get in my way, and I don't need you getting killed while I'm busy."

    Withdrawing his tail-- the segmented shaft retracted and slithered backwards while the tip flicked around as if in objection-- Berserker walked over to the television, which was miraculously untouched, though covered in debris. "On that note, don't go doing anything stupid in general to get yourself killed," he continued while crouching next to the set and grasping for the wire. More to himself, the young boy muttered, "That Grail is mine, I won't let anyone screw my chances of getting it." With a slightly audible sound of powering on, Berserker successfully plugged the TV's cord into a socket, causing the screen to light up. Turning his head to glare at Xander, he commented, "Especially not some beginner magus who calls his girlfriend whenever something goes wrong."
  20. Rider frowned discontentedly. Not only was he summoned by someone who obviously doesn't know what manners are, but the kid didn't even have any interest in the Holy Grail. Narrowing his eyes at his summoner's attitude, the Shapeshifter stayed where he was, watching the boy approach the stairs out of the basement. He leaned against the wall almost casually, arms crossed. It was pretty clear he wasn't about to follow the boy.

    "You're getting ahead of yourself, there," Rider replied coolly. Tilting his head slightly, the Servant kept his gaze on his summoner. "Well. I'm not going anywhere until I feel like it." The words themselves might be taken as immature if it weren't for Rider's completely serious tone.

    Well, he could use a Command Spell on me, but that'd be a waste for such a simple, if temporary, fix, Rider mused, examining his fingernails in apparent boredom. Push comes to shove, I'll make him use all three and just find a new Master.


    "What kind of problem?"

    Hailey had obviously picked up on the urgency in Xander's voice, and was reacting accordingly, but now Xander couldn't answer her. Obediently putting the cell phone down, Xander silently listened to Beserker talk. He could hear Hailey on the other end of the phone, but after a few seconds she fell silent- either she'd hung up or could hear Berserker as well. He couldn't count out the second; with her ability in magic, she could probably amplify whatever was coming from Xander's end.

    "Waiiiit, wait, hold on," Xander complained after Berserker was done. "Look, I don't even know what's happening right now." The man's voice was back to its usual confident tone; he had regained his composure now that it was clear Berserker wasn't actually trying to kill him. "I called my friend because of this... random mark on my hand. You just happened to get... summoned during it."

    Xander gave Berserker a strange look, more trying to figure him out than actually appraising him. Finally the man crossed his arms, sighed, and looked at the wreckage that had been half of his house. "... Berserker, huh?" He muttered, before returning his gaze to the boy. "Fitting name. I'm Xander."

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