[color=Blue] [center] [h1]  Cu Chulainn, Lancer [/h1] [/center] [/color] 

[center] Wednesday, November 17th, 2015

Plaza of the Inca Hotel

Room 207
 [/center]

[@Holy Grail]

It was a simple ritual. In fact, it was hardly anything fancy considering what one summons. 

A Hero.

A being that is the idealization of humanity, from it’s worst to its best. After all, what was a human without hope. Hope for the new day is what drove humanity to tame the world with its tools and machines. Hope which drives one to protect what one cares about. 

But heroes aren’t without flaws. Even the most idealized hero is to have something which caused them to lose their way. Some sort of chain holding them down, and a wish to change what they had wronged. 

Anyone would want to do so. After all, what is wrong can be changed to something that is “right”, and the “right” trumps the “wrong” in every instance. 

Caring to change the wrongs to write is a different story though. After all, Heroes were being that are idealized by humanity. If they are to regret their choices, they have failed that pedestal which is so favorably granted to them.  

The man before the homunculus was definitely strange looking for a hero. Though muscular, his frame was lean. His [jumpsuit] armor was a deep blue which seemed to match his hair, hard to imagine that something like his armor would offer much protection. His eyes a deep red, as if to show some sort of “difference” between himself and the commonfolk. If anything, one could definitely state that he was exceptionally pleasing to look at. Perhaps enough to make men scared for their wives’ sake. 

His face had a beastial grin, and his stretch mirrored the same. Perhaps it wouldn’t be wrong to say that there was a degree of humanity about the person before Elyse. At the same time there existed a more bestial existence.  A hidden rage and passion perhaps buried behind the smile.

For the time being, he seemed satiated. 

But the most important thing about the man before Elyse was the spear in his hand. A weapon that seemed simple at first glance; a spear died a crimson red. But one can see what appeared to be barbs on the pole of the spear. 

[color=blue] “Yo, Master, I’m your Servant. Pleased to meet ya.”  [/color]

A simple greeting at best. Despite it’s simplicity, it seemed to convey the message just fine. 

[color=blue] “I can see by the seals, the contract that bounds us. Hope we can get along.”  [/color] 

Every servant understands who their master is. It is as a child who looks at their mother’s face the first time they are born, or a similar idea at least. A Master held a “bond” with their Servant. One that drew deeper as time went on. 

A Master merely acted as the anchor for the Servant. The "power of the grail" is what had been successful in summoning the Servant. Under normal circumstances, Magi are not able to supply the sort of prana needed to sustain such a being, of which not even the 5 Mages would be able to make a familiar contract with. Being that overpowered the existences known as Masters were important to keep in line. Hence the creation of the command seals. At least, every Servant knew of these. They were the “time out” button a Master could use to enforce a demand upon their Servant. 

[color=blue] “But I gotta say, I didn’t really expect to have such a cute looking Master in a maid outfit. Perhaps it is my lucky day?” [/color] 

Well, every dog does have his day.