Fate/Lunaterra ~ RP Thread

After hearing his Master's response, the young Servant Berserker gave Xander an odd look-- halfway between wonderment and disgust. "You don't know what's going on?" The boy's black tail thrashed with these words, cutting and knocking aside more nearby wreckage. "You're in a war, and you don't even know you entered it?" Upon reiterating the situation out loud, despite his clenched hands and flushed face, something seemed to dawn on Berserker. The last of his frustrations boiling over before it even occurred to him to keep them contained, the pre-teen roared-- as harshly as a pre-teen can--"What kind of a MORON must you be to summon me?!" The television chose this precise moment to play an annoying advertisement, inciting the brutish blade of Berserker's to punch right through the screen with a loud POP and an electrical fizzle.

Almost seeming hurt or betrayed by this recent information, the dark-auburn-haired boy cast one more repugnant glance at Xander before turning away, observing more of the ruin he had wrought, his tail picking aimlessly through the mix of clutter. "You're a Master in the Holy Grail War," he informed Xander, spitting out the important terms with a dosage of venom. "Your goal is to kill the other six Masters and their Servants so that we win the Holy Grail." Pointedly looking at the young man who summoned him, Berserker stated with emphasis, "The Holy Grail which grants you anything you want."

His tone carrying a hidden sulking, Berserker continued, "Masters are usually strong magi, who know what they're getting into when they see the Command Spell." In indication, the boy held up the back of his bare, pale hand. "And usually, only the really experienced ones want to summon Berserker, because of how hard the Class is to control." His tail perked up at this moment and angled its tip towards Xander, as if zeroing in for the benefit of its bearer. "You're a lucky idiot since I can keep the Madness contained," Berserker said righteously. Despite his childish arrogance, some part of him sounded more mature when he said this-- as if he were fighting a heavy burden.

"Otherwise," the boy finished in a more serious tone than he had spoken in before, for he too dreaded the hypothetical more than he would like to admit, "I really would have killed you."

 

Reiner stopped in his tracks as the servant spoke. Behind him, Rider would not see his face contort into one of deep annoyance. Reiner knew that these spirits were powerful -- more powerful than any Magus that could summon them, even -- and that they were often disobedient, but to him, they may as well be familiars. That his Servant, a mere familiar, would be so rebellious so quickly was unthinkable to him.

He turned around, his face calmer, but still showing his disgust toward this "Servant." He gave an exasperated sigh before walking up to him, until he was directly in front of the shapeshifter. Mumbling an incoherent word, a small fire appeared in Reiner's right hand. No, not a fire -- it was as if he was holding a tiny explosion in his hand. His magic was one obviously geared for destruction.

Looking up into the slightly taller Servant's eyes, Reiner's face simultaneously showcased his contempt, annoyance, and a receding boredom, as though he were starting to enjoy the turn of events. "Figures I'd get a Servant like you," he sighed, slightly retrospective, "Listen. I don't care what you were," his tone now was one of just annoyance and admonishment, "but now you're a Servant -- a glorified Familiar under my command."

Reiner sighed in exasperation. "It might not seem like it, but I am a skilled Magus," it was now obvious the sigh was from not wanting to bring his status as a magus into this, "I am Reiner Behrend, third generation of the Behrend family. You will do as I say."

Reiner could feel more mana gather into his right hand as he said so. He stopped the flow immediately, keeping the small explosion in his hand, but not letting the command spell get used up yet. He wasn't saying that as a Master in the Holy Grail War, but as a Magus who had summoned a familiar. Despite a small glow from the glyphs on his arm, he still had all three. Sure, this way wouldn't guarantee anything from the Servant, but Reiner didn't care.

 

After finishing the handshake, Carl seemed a little cautious at the servant's hesitance to speak of her past. In mere moments however, his face changed to that of understanding. He gave caster a grin that said it all. He, too, had seen too many strange things to be fazed by anything the Holy Grail War had to offer. "You're right" He said in a upbeat jokingly-defeated tone. "With our experience, he should just get our grail and get out." He took another bow before facing away. "Do forgive me if I lead you on tangents however; I come here on more for study than the wish itself."

Carl looked momentarily at the seal on a wall, and then back at his newly summoned servant, frowning as he realized nothing was adequately explained. He gestured to the shining doorway, it's patterns flowing for shape to shape, resembling that of a astronomical map. "This is the Great Chaos Seal of Terra." His voice switching to that of a professor. "This connects me to my organization, The Chaos Breakers." He looked around the filthy abandoned room, covered in rust and dust, with the occasional rat scurrying by. He took a moment to stop himself from shuddering in disgust. He looked at Caster, almost apologetically, though still with the demeanor of a teacher. "We usually give these things more care, they're for recruitment and such. But the seal of Terra? It's for me. I intentionally evoked the command spell so that I could make off with the magical artifact, and it's wish." He started grinning, walking into a shadowy corner of the room. "By the will of MY master, we shall unlock the secrets of this universe." We walked back into the light of Dise's great seal, carrying two pairs of whiteboards and markers; the kind regular people would use. He tossed one casually to Caster, then pulled a small notepad out atop his own.

"It is as you say. Nothing here is new to us. So please, tell me how you operate so we can preparing supplies."

 

... Terra... This single word spoken by Carl repeated itself it the mind of Caster. Yes... It was definitely something she had heard of before. A planet by that very name. So, that's where I am... She continued to listen to Carl speak, but at the same time, she began to think back to a conversation regarding the planet she had many years ago...


"So then... How would define this world named Terra?"

Within her memories, she once hovered down a dark hallway. With her was another individual. Dressed in a black cloak not unlike the one she wears in the present time, only this person's cloak was much longer, extending down to his ankles. Their identity was concealed by this cloak, but the way he walked displayed a somewhat unprofessional disposition, even in her presence.And the voice that responded to her query was clearly that of a man.

"Terra?" The man's hand reached up as he then rested it upon his temple. "Yeah, hate to be the one to tell you this Empress, but Terra's probably the most boring planet I've come across in the Manaverse. Nothing there but ordinary people who don't even know the inner functioning of this realm. All because of people who attempt to keep it secret." The man then scoffed. "It's likely that they'll find some way of covering up every trace of my presence there. And such a disgusting move, considering what I've unleashed." He paused. "So in other words, just a lump of wasted matter where all of the magic and fun is kept secret." Another paused as he then glanced back to Caster. "And as we both know, the best enjoyment comes when everyone is made aware of the suffering we bring."

"That, it is..."


Caster's hands moved to catch the marker and whiteboard Carl tossed to her. Her eyes gazed to the two objects she had caught, both being nothing more than common objects. She was then inquired of how she operated. "Well, if you insist," she then spoke. "However, such objects are inadequate for such a task. I believe a... demonstration is in order."

Caster then tossed the whiteboard forward, seemingly toward Carl. But it wouldn't come anywhere close to him as immediately as the object flew from her hand, several black tendrils of Dark Mana arose from her shadow, wrapping themselves around the object as they caught it in midair. Mere seconds later, these tendrils effortlessly crushed the whiteboard in their grip. After this, the marker held within her right hand became cloaked in an aura of Dark Mana. She then aimed it down toward her shadow and allowed it to fall toward it. But instead of landing on the floor, it seemed to fall directly into her shadow, seemingly sinking into it. She then motioned her hand away from her. As he had done so, something seemed to blur out from her shadow in the direction she motioned her hand. She then glanced around the room, seemingly looking for an object for demonstration. Her focus turned toward a desk in the corner of the room, to which she motioned her hand. The blurring object then rushed toward it. It would not come into physical contact with it, but instead shoot directly through its shadow. Immediately after this, the shadow itself seemed to break apart, and at the same time, the desk had become splintered, seemingly by the single attack on its shadow. The blurring object shot from the shadows aligned on the floor, rocketing back to Caster as she then caught it with her right hand. It was the very pen she dropped into her shadow.

"I tend to get enjoyment out of watching my prey suffer without me having to touch them," Caster spoke. "Fitting how I've managed to gain two abilities toward that end. First being my achlympery." She paused. "Although I do believe you and your dragon friend got a taste of that when you summoned me."

 

The explanation as to why she failed wasn't truly needed, there wasn't much hope of success as it were. She let out a light sigh, unsure whether to be relieved or uneasy about this servant. Probably both. She looked back at him and their eyes locked as he continued. "If I am to be your Servant, I'll need to trust you to follow through the Grail War. I'll eliminate all threats and obstacles for you, but only if you act as a proper Master. I can't really guarantee anything otherwise." Kal nodded in response. There was no point in trying to avoid the war at this point, she had no choice but to participate. Her heart sunk as the image of her laying on the ground, gasping her last breaths shot through her mind. "But I think you'll be a fine Master, Kalonia. You've summoned the strongest Servant of this war, after all." Kal accepted the statement with a smile. His confidence must be contageous, for she could feel it through those eyes. She broke eye contact to look about the room again; in truth she needed to get away from that gaze.

The room wasn't too trashed, just a few tables and shelves knocked over and miscellaneous objects scattered along the floor. Nothing really in need of repair, at least. It wasn't all that big of a room, either, more like an adapted garage than anything else. Kalonia had built this small workshop to work on her inventions when she was younger, but now she used it only as a spare-parts shed. Char marks could be seen in a few places along the wooden walls where some machines went horribly wrong; sometimes perfectly right. A single door positioned on the east wall was the means in and out; there were no windows.

"I thank you, but I can't guarantee I would be anything other than in your way." She stated as she moved toward a small generator-like device connected via cable to what was left of the draining rods. "41% CAPACITY" displayed on its mini screen. 13% of the calculated mana total of the ritual... took up nearly half of the storage. Powerful. She rested her right gauntlet on the storage device, which responded with a small glow, the display changing rapidly to "0% CAPACITY" and her left gauntlet's display showing "82% CAPACITY." I'll have to work on my mana storage systems when this is all over. "Here's what little I managed to pull from the ritual." She stated as she turned back to the servant. "Would you like it now or for me to hold it as a reserve?" A pause. "Oh, and what may I call you?"

 

Berserker's attention snapped to the newcomer when she made her presence known, adrenaline spiking minutely and tail twitching in anticipation of being able to kill the female. By the end of Hailey's lecture, however-- during which Berserker made sure to shoot her a nasty look when she pointed out his dishonesty-- it became apparent she was no random witness who needed to be eliminated; in fact, judging by her knowledge on the Holy Grail War, Berserker noticed, she would likely make a better Master than his current one...

Turning and taking a step towards the human duo, but otherwise remaining where he was, Berserker crossed his arms over his chest and commented snidely, "You must be the girlfriend." A sly grin forming on his face, the boy acknowledged, "You seem to know a lot more about what's going on than Mister Clueless over there, though. You'd probably actually make a half-decent Master." The black tail slithered slowly over his head, blade pointing in an almost incriminating fashion at Xander. "It's not too late, you know," Berserker informed Hailey, his voice laden with the suggestion of his subversive offer. "You can always take the Command Spells by force from another Master."

'And give me a better chance at that Holy Grail, bitch,' the young boy thought mutinously, reptilian eyes monitoring Hailey's actions. Being summoned by an uninformed magus, when there was clearly a more obvious candidate for the Grail to select as Master? It was working against him, how natural. Even the omnipotent wish-granting power which demanded a bloodbath could be prejudiced, it seemed, and look down on the desires of demonkind as inferior. Just like everybody else.

He'd show them-- he'd show the Grail itself the depths of voracity it had tempted in the course of executing its celestial joke, its recruitment of what seemed another Servant for slaughter in the pursuit of the most righteous. He'd overflow the vessel with more blood than it bargained for, if need be, no matter from whose body it may stem.

 

Carl stood there and watched as Caster displayed her power. As opposed to his excited demeanor when watching the summoning ritual, he seemed somewhat uninterested. He stood there after the demonstration, staring blankly at the spot where the marker disappeared, like it were a message in particularly hard to read handwriting.

"Okay then." Carl recomposed himself and looked Caster in the eyes. "Such power would have utter dominance over the lost and confused." He faced away from Caster, and towards the Glyph, crossing his arms. He voice lost some of its confident formality. "The dragon from before... Dise. He is refereed to as the 'Master of Labyrinths.'" His voice further degraded into a stern jealousy. "I was hoping to simply use him as a point of contact, but he would be a far better pairing with you than I."

As if on cue, the form of the dragon game from the Great Seal's light. He was holding a bright pink towel with a floral pattern on it. He tossed to Carl with a wide smirk on his face. Upon catching it, Carl frowned and gave his friend the look one might give a child attempting to put the triangle peg in the circle hole. "Very funny" he said, in the least amused way possible. "Change of plans. You'll be the one fighting with our servant. She shares your love of... 'indirect methods.'" Dise looked confused, and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could Carl turned and faced Caster. "I was waiting to see my servant before making this decision, but we're going to renovate this building as a base of operations. Until then, your orders are to scout out the location and tell me anything of interest. It should be mostly abandoned."

Carl herded his friend make into the gateway, and started to follow suit, and turned at the last moment. "Oh, and these people aren't aware of magic just yet." In saying that, he looked absolutely disgusted, as if we were informing Caster these people had not invented toilets yet. "Though it pains me to say this, we aren't ready to reveal anything yet. Please don't do anything too extravagant until further notice." He waited briefly for a reply from Caster before entering the light of Dise's glyphs himself.

 

Reiner's demeanor as his Servant rushed him changed. A look of fear came over his once bored face. His Servant was vicious -- like a wild animal, even. Reiner crumpled to the floor as Rider let go of him, and sat there for a moment, not doing much of anything.

The attack wasn't exactly unexpected or undeserved He knew that his Servant could have easily killed him right thenand there. Rider was giving him a chance, at least. Reiner gave out a small laugh, then stood himself up, wiping off his clothes as he did so. "We might just win this thing like that," he said, his voice now showing none of its previous boredom or contempt, but rather that he was impressed by the Servant.

Reiner coughed, then felt his neck with his hand. This would obviously be a good bruise in the morning -- probably even now -- but it was worth it. Reiner was satisfied with Rider at the very least. "I would get a Servant like you," Reiner said, without the contempt of when he had said a very similar thing just seconds before. "I'll leave it up to you now -- whether you want to see the area or wait until morning. I'm fine with either."



Archer's Master, now having introduced herself as Resta, now asked Archer a question that he didn't know the answer to. "Hm..." Archer mumbled, still playful but legitimately in thought, "Well, you could have been beaten to summoning Saber, or the Grail decided that I would be the best fit for you." he said, shrugging slightly. "I'm no Magus, so I wouldn't know details like that."[/color][/hr]

 

Hidden from the sightlines of the moon’s gaze, tucked safely below the din of an overcrowded bar, two figures dressed in attire that seemed almost too formal for the occasion sat opposite one another at a table, each with a drink in front of them. One, a rather unremarkable man somewhere roughly in his late twenties, was dressed in a suit with a dark tie that was off-centre and crooked. He wore his jet-black hair clipped short, though he had the makings of scruff that indicated that he had spent his day preparing more on what to say than how he looked. This man, speaking rapidly and animatedly, was leaning heavily on the table such that his knuckles were strained against the skin – a pale white only given any colour by the everchanging light of the dance floor.

The other man, several years the junior of his opposite, was much more neatly-kept and orderly. Not a hair was out of place upon his slicked-over blond head. His suit was newly-pressed with cufflinks that looked like airplanes. In stark contrast to the other man’s disorderly appearance, the younger man appeared to have everything together. Reflecting this outwardly, he sat back pensively in his seat, fingers interlinked, as he listened with a patience that seemed to be wearing quite thin. His stormy grey eyes betrayed no possible sign of agitation, but it would appear that both he and his conversational partner knew that the conversation was drawing to a close.

It was merely a matter of getting the poor sap to release his desperate grip.

“-- so you see, Mister Laforêt, engaging in a contract between my company and yours could certainly prove to be quite-” It was here that the younger man unlinked his fingers and held a hand up to silence the man’s incessant blathering. The younger man, known as Laforêt, smiled a smile that was not unkind, but rather one that a sympathetic hunter might give to small game unwittingly trapped in something much bigger than had been intended.

“Thank you, Mister Stone. Your proposition has certainly been most… enlightening. However, I must regret to inform you at this point that – and please do not interject here, as I can clearly see you intend to do so – a contract can hardly be considered to exist when only one of those entering it can benefit. As I can no longer see a clear reason to continue to entertain this fanciful discussion, it is approximately time that our meeting draw to a close, hm?”

The other man – Stone – looked on in utter shock, jaw halfway agape until he realized it was so. He seemed to quickly compose himself, and then: “Yes, sir. I suppose I have overstayed my welcome,” his voice could scarcely be heard over the din. He looked very much extinguished before his eyes brightened suddenly, “Oh, but please, if you do reconsider…”

“I scarcely consider that to be an option, but do humour me.”

“If you do reconsider, please give me a call. You will know where to find me.” Mister Stone fumbled around in his pockets for something before he produced a modest business card, which he passed across the table. Laforêt hardly acknowledged its existence, instead choosing to sweep up the last dregs of his amber-coloured beer into his mouth. He once again flashed a smile to the other man, before extending a hand across the table as he stood up. “I will certainly make an attempt to consider it. Thank you, Mister Stone, and goodnight.” With no further ceremony, he left the table and Stone behind him, taking the business card and pocketing it, and leaving the bar entirely.

Ugh.

Alasdair Laforêt. A young businessman with many connections, though he was still quite decidedly planted in his early twenties. He worked in the technological sector, and though part of his initial wealth had been inheritance from his late father, he had quickly transformed that into a comfortable living for himself as he lived in this, a city quite too small for his tastes. He longed to see more of the world, but he had important associates that resided within Calescen. However, within the sphere of his business, he also often attracted decidedly less-important suitors of his expertise, such as Mister Stone. Alasdair withdrew a small packet of cigarettes from his chest pocket before plunging his hand into his pants pocket to recover the business card he had placed there. With a flick of his fingers, and no lighter in sight, Alasdair lit the corner of the business card on fire. Holding the paper to his cigarette, he lit it up and began to smoke before flicking the remains of the card to the curb. He closed his eyes and leaned against one of the columns outside of the bar, and exhaled after taking a long drag of smoke.

The young man gazed up at the moon, which in return favoured him by reflecting pale light back upon his countenance. He momentarily indulged himself by watching the smoke trail he had let loose into the world. The wispy tendrils faded slowly into the night sky. Alasdair sighed, not sadly, but rather patronizingly. “It would seem that my prospects are running dry in this city, Lady Luna,” he uttered to nobody around him, but rather to the orb that hung high in the sky, “It must be so difficult - so painful for you to watch so many pitiable humans try to make something of their existence in this world.”

He returned to smoking his cigarette, his other hand in his now-empty pocket. He did certainly hope that there would be some tangible business prospect that would rear its head in the near future.

Hopefully, the drought in prospective partnerships would not last for long. Alasdair was such a busy man. And he did not like to be kept waiting.

 

Blaise closed the door behind her and started walking towards the elevator. Her thoughts were tumbling one over another as she contemplated how she would come into play uninvited. Just how would she manage breaking the sacred pact of secrecy? She had heard of this only through a small bit of hearsay, and from further study in tomes, she learner of the Grail's purpose and its miraculous abilities. Only those who were invited to participate could attend, and she certainly hadn't been invited... but that didn't mean she couldn't invite herself.

She chewed on her lip, her makeup having worn off from earlier. She wasn't a very striking person without the god awful paint on her face, but she did have to admit, she attracted more attention wearing the stuff. Her long, dark brown hair was kept in a tight bun to keep it out of her eyes, which she only let down when she was trying to make a good impression. She was wearing a knee length black dress that seemed both formal and casual, but not without being comfortable. The most important piece of what she was wearing was a golden chain that held a solid pendant of crystal quartz, carved into the shape of a heart. Quartz was known to enhance the innate magical abilities of the wearer, and even though Blaise did not dabble much in gems, she wore it anyway.

It was this pendant that sent a spark to her senses. An overflow of Mana, just surging forth as if there was a wide open faucet. It was almost overwhelming the force was so strong. Blaine staggered a bit and tried to fine tune herself so she could determine a direction. This level of energy had to be on par with someone who could perform the summoning ritual, and no other source seemed to have as much potential as this one did, probably because the summoning was already underway. Breathing a bit heavily, she staggered in the now open elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. Amazing. This had seemed to come out of nowhere. Was there someone who could perform the Heaven's Feel that did not realize that were invited?! Perhaps she did have a chance after all...

 

Caster twiddled the marker between her clawed fingers as Carl Ziino had spoken following her demonstration. And would seem that instead of having her own Master fight beside her in combat, she would be paired with the dragon she had seen just mere moments ago. While she didn't know exactly what to think of him yet, the way Carl presented him made him seem somewhat promising, given her own abilities.

Then Carl informed Caster that they would be using the building they were currently located in as a base of operations. She glanced around the room. Ignoring the destroyed desk that was a result of her demonstration, the summoning star beneath her, and the glyphs on the wall, there was nothing spectacular about the room they were in. It was an accurate thought based on what she was told regarding Terra, but all things considered, it was a rather disappointing location for a base of operations. Even if they were renovating it. It was unlikely they could turn this decrepit building into something that would please her tastes. In her entire life, there was only one place that would ever suit her. A place she wasn't returning to anytime soon. But perhaps this time, it may be possible for her to bring it here to Terra. But then, she had been reminded of the fact that the inhabitants of the planet were unaware of the existence of magic. Afterward, she was then told not to do any extravagant.

"Ho-hum," Caster replied, an obvious disinterest in her tone. "Given that order, you might as well have just told me to stay here and do absolutely nothing." She then turned slightly away from Carl, although her concealed eyes continued to look upon Carl. "It's too bad, too. I could have made a much better base of operations myself."

 

This servant was quite the riddle. He conducted himself well and was flowing with confidence; and rightly so. However, Kal knew better than to simply trust the word of a servant so soon, they likely all believed they were the strongest. But still, there was an edge here she did not expect. Kalonia Ralston was beginning to feel something. Excitement? The more servant spoke, the more she could feel his confidence and power. Above all, he seemed to be treating her as if she were on par with the servant's own importance in this war; as if she were more than just the being giving him form, but an equal. "Alright." She answered, still gazing at the percentage read on her gauntlet. But what to do with it?

"As for this, well..." Kal broke from her thoughts to see this servant doing... something. It was mere moments, happening too fast to see- wait, no, there! Nigh-invisible motion of some kind... arms? Was this servant a ghost? No, it must just be an ability of his. Curious. Kal found herself so caught up in strange aura-arm-things that at first she didn't realize that the was mostly returned to its proper state. He cleaned it up? Isn't that the wrong kind of serv- "I am the Servant of the Lancer Class, so that shall be my name." He stated, cutting Kal back into reality. Lancer continued to explain his traits, information that would prove useful in forming a strategy.

"My orders..." That's right, a plan. She's in this war for keeps now, so better get one of those. "Ideally, this would be the crucial time that masters and servants would be developing their own strategies, with the likely exception of Berserker." She spoke even though she knew this was common knowledge, she just needed to get her mind running. "If there was a time to catch them off guard, this is it." Another pause. "Saber class is usually considered to be the most dangerous, so let's make him our first priority and simply take out any others we come upon." She motioned for Lancer to follow as she moved for the door. "I'll take you around the city, but as far as a base goes... this shack is all I'm willing to offer for now. I'd rather stay moving." With that, she opened the door and stepped out into a small clearing in the middle of a forest. A single trail lead from the door into the trees with a small wooden post marked with a green dot. How do I get myself into these things...

 

Kaden observed his Servant's transformation with casual curiosity, flashing an amused smirk upon noticing the ears and the tail, and parting his lips to make a tactful comment, though stopping himself when he saw Saber undergo her final change. "Perfect," the teen judged in a pleased tone, gaze scanning over Saber's trim black hair and fair complexion, a rather bemused expression on his slim face. From fully armored for battle to looking like an ordinary woman in a matter of seconds. 'How useful,' Kaden wondered in smooth satisfaction.

"Right, right. Hope you're not planning anything indecent," his Servant joked. The blond teen let out a chuckle and replied in a courteous voice, "I would never." The lightness of etiquette replaced by a purposeful tone, he continued, "Anyway, we should get going." Taking a few strides back, Kaden looked over his shoulder and motioned for Saber to follow, briefly narrowing his eyes at the bright green graffiti that had been his summoning circle. 'Not worth my time,' the teen appraised, continuing onwards with an even step. "It's a bit of a walk from a run-down place like this to the Crescent Hotel," he called back to Saber. "I hope you don't mind an opportunity to stretch your legs."

Kaden directed them towards a wide back road leading out of the lot, bordered as it was on most all sides by buildings, with a few alleyways providing alternate exits. Several dumpsters sat along the walls, rust evident on their bulky frames and a sense of neglect emanating as strongly as the stench from the contents within. The sound of traffic was rather distant, while a beat-up and dingy car was parked inertly in a remote corner of the lot. Stopping and standing still for a moment while they were yet hidden by the surrounding high walls, Kaden snapped his fingers and not a minute later, a bird came swooping in close, diving down from the sky straight towards the teen... No, it wasn't a bird, but an outline of a bird, an ethereal projection done up in avian form, which faded quickly into ether as it approached the motionless blond. Several moments later, another ghostly dove flew in and dissipated against the boy in the same way, followed by another, and then two more in speedy procession. Kaden paused for a second longer, allowed a small, contented sigh, and then explained to Saber, "Apologies for the delay. I thought it prudent to check my... ah, I guess the most fitting term would be 'surveillance'," and resumed his steady pace forward as if uninterrupted.

Shortly thereafter, when they emerged onto a proper-- but nonetheless relatively vacant-- street, Kaden took a left turn and continued walking, questioning his Servant, "Now, I trust you know how to act in this modern day, yes? We can't have you standing out too much, otherwise we'll start getting noticed."

[hr]

Scoffing when Hailey suggested showing respect for his Master-- not just because the concept of respect was prickly enough, let alone showing such a submissive feeling to an inferior magus like Xander-- Berserker also couldn't help reacting to her acknowledgment of his power with an appeased, gratified grin, twisted as it looked on his face. Upon making her position regarding his proposition clear, Berserker flashed an extremely fake, charming smile at Hailey and replied, "And who's going to protect you when you piss me off?" If she didn't have the trump card that was Command Spells held over him, he could likely destroy her whenever he pleased, setting aside the value she represented to their team as an ally. In fact, even considering that...

"You might just be more useful to us as food than an ally magus," Berserker stated, the words tumbling out of his mouth before even he knew what they meant. Upon saying this, though, he became aware of an urge deep in his being-- a craving to rip into someone and... feast. Recognizing this foreign hunger, which felt inexplicably natural, led him to recognize something else: this world was heavy. It wasn't as fuel-efficient as the young boy was used to-- Mana was so much crappier than what he had become accustomed to handling that it left him in famine. How was he supposed to be able to do what he wanted if he didn't have the energy to do it?!

Not waiting for any sort of reply from either of the two humans in front of him, Berserker abruptly lanced his tail upwards, hooking it on the roof and pulling himself up through one of the long gashes in the ceiling, brazenly remarking, "God, this place sucks!" He landed perched on top of Xander's house, wasting no time in slipping off the side and landing on the ground below. He paused, crouched, reptilian eyes gazing around with an appetite and devilish weapon arching high and swiveling, as if scouting the area. There was one sole intent which was clear in his every move...

'Find food.'

 

Blaise shivered with anticipation as the rush of Mana flew through her. Something with an immense power was near her, something far more powerful than even herself at this current moment, and she couldn't tell how long it had been since she found some being with this much potential. It was almost as if her pendant were burning hot to the touch, but when she reflexively reached to touch it, she found that it was cool. She watched the elevator door open and walked inside, repeatedly jamming her finger on the button for the ground floor. It was as if the elevator car was taking millenia to reach its destination and the woman was starting to quiver with impatience.

Oh what a sight it would be... She would finally be able to take part in the Summoning that she had heard of... and she would be that much closer to achieving her dream. The door opened and she strode out through the empty lobby to the front revolving door. The night breeze was biting her face as she was hit again by the bright moonlight. Certainly that was a sign that something was to happen here. Certainly this was the step forward that she needed. She used her pendant to find the source of this Manaflow, and lo and behold, she finally came upon it. A man with slicked blond hair, smoking a cigarette. A hand was in his pocket as he gazed towards the sky. This was the person that would bring her salvation. This was the person who would help her realize her dreams. Stepping from the shadow the skyscrapers cast upon her into the bright moonlight, tears welled in her eyes.

Softly, she spoke aloud, perhaps to him, but perhaps to no one in particular.

"Finally... It is you..."

 

As he mused upon his fading business prospects in the city, he returned the cigarette to his mouth, taking another long drag. Alasdair typically tried to be mindful of where he smoked, as it could negatively impact his image in... certain circles. But tonight, he decided it was necessary to indulge himself below the neon lighting of the bar he had just stepped out of. Should the worst come to worst, he counted on being able to get the suit cleaned to get the scent of the smoke off of it. It wasn’t as though the decision was an irreversible one. No, smoking was rather a calculated risk, minor though it was. He had grown up around smokers, and he had seen its negative impacts, but it never served to worry Alasdair.

He kept to himself as people entered and exited the bar – sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs. As they passed, he silently passed judgment upon them; Bumbling idiot. In way over his head with that one. Borderline alcoholic… He had yet to see Stone pass him by on his way out. Of all the people who had attempted to swing a business deal with him lately, Mister Stone had been one of the least promising. His proposal had negligible value to him that he could not already earn himself. Anyone seasoned in the business sphere knows that people who are only offering ‘exposure’ have nothing of merit themselves to put on the table.

The young man was shaken from his reflections of the evening – no less than a colossal waste of time from his standpoint – by a figure who was apparently trying to get his attention. Was she someone he should have known? Surely not, the woman’s disheveled appearance conflicted heavily with her semi-formal attire. The makeup she presently wore (though that could be considered a loose application of the word) had faded, and it was evident that she had not taken the time – or perhaps, the effort – to reapply it since it had worn off. She was otherwise altogether quite unremarkable as a figure, with no defining features apart from a quartz pendant on a golden chain which seemed to capture more than just the moonlight. Assuming her to be no more than a petty streetwalker looking for business, Alasdair nonchalantly flicked his cigarette butt at her feet, as if dismissing her, before turning his head the other way. “I doubt I have any business dealing with you at this time, Mademoiselle. I do not indulge myself in such activities as the services you are about to offer to me.”

Presently, his phone began to ring, his ringtone audibly, though muffled, playing through the fabric of his suit pants. “…one day you're here, one day you're there, one day you care… you're so unfair…” He pulled the phone out of his pocket. A blocked number. This ought to be good. He let the ringtone continue through to the end of the bridge, taking some empathizing in Justin Timberlake’s quest after some prospect. It mirrored his plight for a business opportunity. “...sippin’ from your cup ‘til it runneth over, Holy Grai-” click

“You’ve reached Alasdair Laforêt...”

A loud static was all that greeted him. He almost lost his grip on his phone due to the loud noises that emanated from the miniature device. He muttered to himself, “What the hell…?” It seemed almost a cliché, how there was evidently some interference. If films had taught him anything, it was that it was some omen of events to come… but Alasdair never had been much of a superstitious man. The world could easily be explained away if you simply armed yourself with the right knowledge to understand it. He promptly ended the call, regaining his composure. The woman was still standing behind him, as he noticed from the shadow that she cast. He sighed, and spun around.

“I said I will not be in need of your services. Perhaps you did not understand the first time?”