[h1][color=00aeef]Ernest LaCreux[/color][/h1]


Ernest nodded. Apparently his initial greeting had been satisfactory. “Very well, I shall call you Nimr then.” The magus took exceptional care to pronounce the name correctly, as mispronunciation seemed to be one of his Servant's pet peeves. Nimrod's comment regarding the Thralls got another nod out of Ernest, who clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Yes, I'm afraid you're correct in that aspect. These Thralls are pale imitations of actual life. Still...” He tapped his cane on the floor of the basement, leading both Thralls to rise. “I manage to get a fair amount of use from them.” He glanced toward one of the Thralls disapprovingly. Nimrod's observation had actually struck rather close to the root of Ernest's current predicament. He could raise the dead, but he couldn't give them life... though that hadn't stopped him from trying. Still, if the Grail could truly grant any wish, then there was a chance.


Lancer. Excellent. The class seemed to fit Nimrod quite well. “Lancer. Good. If it please you, I shall refer to you by that title when we are in the presence of our enemies, so as not to reveal your identity.” 'Nimr' was less likely to let the secret out than 'Nimrod', but there was always the chance that one of the other Masters was particularly scholarly. Lancer was the safer bet. Ernest kept up his characteristic nodding as Nimrod spoke. Two Noble Phantasms. Very good. As Nimrod took note of his current state of undress, Ernest tapped his cane, leading one of the Thralls to rush upstairs. “Ah yes, of course. I will send these two to purchase clothing for you... though sizing might be a bit difficult...” The Thrall returned with what seemed to be a completely ordinary notebook and pen. Ernest scribbled on the page, occasionally looking back toward Nimrod, then scribbling some more. “Right, then.” He tore the page from the book and handed it to the Thrall. He then placed his hand on the construct's head and began muttering something in French. The creature froze for a moment and then rushed up the steps, followed shortly thereafter by its companion. That chore out of the way, Ernest turned back to Nimrod.



“I've sent them to procure you a suit. I can assure you it will be of the highest quality. In the meantime, though, you may gird yourself with one of those sheets, if you wish.” Ernest pointed toward a shelf in the corner of the room upon which rested several folded sheets. “I apologize for not having something prepared beforehand, but there are no records of your measurements in the legends.” That might have qualified as a joke. Ernest turned and began walking toward the far wall of the abnormally large basement. “As for our first course of action... I believe we should familiarize ourselves with this city, our battlefield.” He motioned toward a large map that had been very recently pinned to the wall of the basement. “This is a map of Fuyuki. We are currently here.” He pointed his cane toward their current position in the eastern section of the city.  “You may notice that there is a cemetery nearby. That is somewhat... we'll say 'beneficial' to my purposes.” Ernest tapped the location of each fallen leyline with the tip of his cane. “The other Masters are likely to be around those locations, though some of them surely know better.” Ernest looked toward Nimrod. “It is my guess that all of the Servants will have been summoned by the end of the day.”

[@Player 2]