[IC] Fate/stay Night - War of the Fourteen Magi - High Casual

[vancexentan]

Interactions: @Turboshitter@Grey
===
"It would be rude at best to keep Jonathan waiting any longer than we have already. I believe we should take our chances and keep going. Of course depending on his servant this could be a trap." Saber commented to all of the party in general as Leon nodded at his servant. "Of course. Come on now we should get moving the more time spent dawdling around the less time spent making new friends." Leon as he opened the door and went forward with purpose moving towards an elevator on the other side of the hotel. He noticed a suspicious lack of guests in this hotel however given it's high grade quality it was too be expected that there would be very few guests in between things. However he did notice a logo of Kawasaki Industries here and there meaning they definitely were partnered or co-owned by some other bigger company. Leon shrugged it off though it was just a passing note as he and Saber entered the elevator backed by Berserker, and Albert...really close space...hope no one tried anything stupid. Or cut the elevator cables...that would sound like something assassin would do. Or an asshole. However with the generic elevator music...



Leon and the crew began their way up towards the top of the tower with seemingly no strings attached. Despite the awful elevator music as it buzzed in his ears. Saber even looked uncomfortable as he coughed trying not to stay to close to the rather beautiful berserker. Saber...had a soft spot for women. Not girls like Satsuko of course but he was well known for his charm with the ladies...unfortunately...in Britain. He supposed it could be worse...his king could be in front of him. Well technically his master was right next to him....why was he thinking of this right now? Was he really that impatient or was it this damnable constant music? If Saber was any less of a man than he was he may have asked if he could rip out the radio.

After what seemed like forever (and 11 long floors worth of elevator music later) they finally arrived at their destination. The 12th floor of the hotel. However as Leon and the crew exited he looked around and noticed a suspicious lack of people. "Saber on point." Leon stated as Saber nodded firmly now on guard in case anything happened. He would hate revealing himself here but if it meant Leon's safety was in peril then he would gladly give away his name at the drop of a hat. His master's health was first and foremost in his duty as a knight, a servant, and a partner. As Leon walked around he noticed a few runes scattered around and stopped to study one. "Presence concealment barrier. I can't feel any servants here...that may be an issue. However I do feel something when I try and sense Berserker....I wonder if its because she's close by." Leon questioned as he moved through the building until they found the room they had been looking for. The room seemed familiar enough. Leon knocked on the door. No answer. Leon knocked again. "He may have forgotten about us...even if he hasn't we should let ourselves in. See if we can find out any clues about our 'friend' Jonathan." Saber said in a uncharacteristically conniving manner. "You sure?" Leon asked as Saber nodded. "To know one's enemy one must take drastic measures even invading the privacy of another. This man may be trying to fool us Leon. Never forget people aren't as good as we are. Morally speaking." Saber commented to his master in return as Leon nodded...

However as Leon opened the door what he saw was something out of a horror sequence. His eyes opened wide in abject fear, and disgust and he could feel his insides turning. All around the room was blood, guts, and gore. Destroyed furniture, and appliances were thrown around hap hazardously. There were towels pressed up against the carpet which reeked with fresh blood. Saber grabbed Leon and pulled him backwards as he stepped forward his face furious. He stared at a man sitting on a couch that had been moved to face the door. Half of the body of Jonathan laid on the couch. The other half of the couch was occupied by what could only be a servant. A man with blonde hair, a bloodied white shirt that had been unbuttoned exposing the scarred chest of the man in front of him. There were two swords laid next to him but they weren't covered in much of the blood. All of it came dripping off the hands onto the man's black pants. His eyes were focused on his newly arrived 'guests'. He raised his arms and smiled as if welcoming old friends. "You see this man right here? Thought he had all the rungs covered. But he didn't...a man of my experience could find the cracks. Of course I did have help...too bad Caster wasn't all he was cracked up to be. But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I? Greetings from my master...and a special greetings from that Princeling Togami who allowed us to get to the point we are now. Jonathan was stupid he didn't know the people who owned this hotel were owned by Togami's Conglomerate. A sad end to a pitiful man...a shame really...the only reason he got caught was because Togami saw him at the meeting...so....who's first?" the man grinned with some slight sadism in it. It wasn't evil...he was just excited for his first real challenge.

[Turboshitter]

Albert Prelati

Interacting with: Berserker (@Grey), Leon & Saber (@vancexentan)

Jonathan's base of operations - 2:24 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

They all climbed into the elevator, packed shoulder to shoulder listening to the usual hotel mixtape. Albert was actually one of the few people who found elevator music relaxing, but in this case he couldn't help feeling irritated as he noticed Saber eyeing Berserker in that way a man often does when he wants something. Something in particular.

Grunting with annoyance, Albert awkwardly tried to squeeze his way inbetween her and Saber. Odd as it was, he didn't like the idea of other people flirting with his Servant. Something about it just seemed wrong.

Finally, the elevator released them. Jonathan's room, they'd been told, was just down the hall. But when they arrived there, what they found was...

A bloodbath, and quite literally at that. Gore decorated the room, painting it with a fine scarlet-beige patte of finely liquidized human remains. Albert only wondered how much of it had come from Jonathan, before realizing Caster would've already dematerialized. It was all his blood.

The smell was even fouler than the scene itself. Leon looked like he wanted to puke. And even as much as Albert wanted to say years of digging around in animal guts had dulled him to the sight of blood, this was... excessive. Sickeningly so. It took on a macabre sense of humor when he saw half of Jonathan's body just propped up on the couch like he'd exploded halfway through having a beer with this strange man... this Servant. Then he realized he couldn't find the other half of the body and he felt disgusted again. He held it in.

Zose swords are clean. 'E pulled 'im apart wiz 'is bare 'ands...

"Very well zen, you barbarian," he said, trying not to show his fear. "You want a challenge? We are more zan 'appy to provide one for you."

He didn't turn to Berserker, not daring to take his eyes off the man. But he made his instructions to her very clear.

"Ma chère? Go nuts."

Albert started his incantation as a flock of fairies swarmed out of his pockets and formed a defensive grid around him, bound by contract to protect him while Berserker handled this new enemy. How fortunate it was that this grunt seemed to be working for that brat Togami. He'd give this man a taste of the Prelati family's power as a message to him. One he'd deliver in blood.

"Écoutez-moi, perdues des catacombes,
Monte,
Monte,
Monte de ta tombes,
Lay vos rancunes aux pieds de la vie,
Obéissez à ma volonté et abattez mes ennemis sur les puits de l'enfer!"

The five-line spell took effect immediately, and a sickening atmosphere settled over the hotel, bridging the realms of the living and the dead. Dark shapes rose from floors, invisible to human eyes, but appearing to be nothing more than dark aggregates of amorphous energy in the eyes of magi, gaseous oil slicks whose touch felt like it could pollute your very soul. Wraiths. Dozens of them.

Albert smiled. He knew hotels were a great place to find wraiths. They were natural gathering places for humans, and a vast majority of them had seen their fair share of suicides and murders. Including one very recent one, whose soul would have many grudges indeed. He had no sympathy for Jonathan. He hadn't known him very well, if at all. But Albert still felt some satisfaction in knowing he could help this spirit find some peace. Perhaps it was professional pride.

The fairies flickered around him, keeping watch throughout their contracted vigil. He could sense thirty-four wraiths had been summoned with fifty vertical and horizontal meters of the hotel. Not his best, but this hotel looked like it was a newer building in the area. With Berserker and Saber's assistance, thirty-four would be more than enough anyway.

He gave them the command to gather on the twelfth floor, then ordered three of his fairies to attack. Tiny as they were, they struck with the force of a bullet, and they were fast. Three was nothing but a distraction to a Servant, but a distraction was all he needed.

[vancexentan]

@Turboshitter@Grey
===
"You know...I was hoping for a fight between just us servants. What I did to this guy was personal you know. Interrupted my fight. The one who blew up the docks was him." the man said as he glanced around thoroughly unimpressed by the change of settings as he stood up he grabbed his black sword and held it in his right hand. "My instincts tell me you're both sword users...neither of you have the physique for magecraft. I'll fight on fair grounds....then I'll grind you into ash with my fists." the man said as he reached behind the couch and gripped the end of something else which turned out to be a sword and pulled it out as Jonathan's corpse rolled forward. Apparently he had used it to keep the body propped up. As the fairies attacked him he took the blows as if they were nothing but child's play and slammed his foot into the ground and moved it forward finishing a circle on the ground that Leon had failed to notice. A bloody magic circle. The magic activated and Leon could feel something in his body burn as he fell to his knees and grasped his chest. His body felt like it was burning. He felt fire before and he recognized the same feeling as if he had just been burned. He had been preparing to conjure magic a moment ago just in case but now he felt as if just the act of calling upon it hurt his soul.

"You think this was suppose to be a one on two? No in case anyone had the idea of fighting as a team here...I was to finish this according to the big guy who anchors me. According to what he told me it's suppose to suppress magical energy by way of pain. Of course if you still want to try...then go ahead!" the big man said as he quickly and brutally swung his swords pommel to dismiss the pesky magic that Albert had summoned. Saber grabbed Leon and pulled him back. "My lady I will watch the charges fight the enemy in front of us. While I can't stomach this evil the close quarters of this area will certainly not be a boon to our human allies. Destroy this evil!" Saber growled as he prepared at any moment to summon his blade to his side if he should need it. He hoped Albert would take this cue to move back as well. Leon could tell that this magic barrier that he felt around them was merely acting as a deterrent to use magical force as a ways of attack. It could've been more effective but he also felt that this barrier was not used to stop a fight...but to prevent one from happening like how police used riot gas to suppress a mob...if that analogy made any sense. "Gah! It hurts but....just don't...channel magic...just supply it to...the servants." Leon managed to get out despite his pain. It was starting to dissipate though as he sent his magic outward towards Saber.

[Eklispe]

Lancer

_{Interacting with @Grey@Turboshitter@1Charak2}

---

Lancer winced at his master getting his foot stomped in. Technically he probably should've stopped that from happening, but to be fair he was under the impession that they were allies. Coupled with her angry look at his direction, he couldn't call it a stare with her eyes being covered as they were but he'd recieved a decidedly negative impression aimed at him directly, this lady seemed like a heap of trouble. She seemed to like her master though, so at least she wasn't likely to do anything too crazy, unless ordered to of course, then he had no doubt she'd rip anyone apart with a smile on her face. Not a bad trait all things considered. Sos didn't seem to mind, setting to work on fixing the foot while inquiring as to how this situation came to be. The boy offered up some cake, which Lancer immediatly went to retrieve, coming back with two plates of it to listen to the boy's story. "Cake's good." Lancer said cheerily at the end of it in response to the question. He didn't really care about the story that much but in response to their cordial host he'd payed attention to it, at least a little. And in all fairness the cake was good.

[Grey]

Berserker
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Bloody Knuckles

---

“Bah, should’ve taken the stairs,” Berserker grumbled as the cramped metal cage ascended. Fortunately she wasn’t yet in her armor, or it would’ve been quite more claustrophobic between the armored dress and pauldrons to match Saber’s. From somewhere, damnable muzak filled the air. “I’m telling you, it’s safer and more healthy. And would make me want to tear out the speakers far less.”

Normally such a thing wouldn’t be so irksome, but they were all so vulnerable here. The beats were like ticks of a clock, counting down to doomsday. Should someone cause the elevator to plummet, it would be far too enclosed to protect the squishy humans therein, even if she and Saber would be more than able to survive such a great fall. So there she stood, arms crossed, a pout on her face, and eyes locked on the digital display, watching it cycle through numbers as they neared their destination.

With a turn to 12 and a ceremonious ding!, the elevator stopped and opened its doors. Berserker crinkled her nose, sniffing the air purposefully a few times. It was a strange scent, in the sense that there was no scent. No scent, no sound, no presence. It was like this floor had been separated from everything else, completely and utterly. The source of such phenomena was quickly determined to be the presence of a concealment Bounded Field array placed by the supposed resident.

Soon after this discovery, they reached the entrance to Jonathan’s lodging. As Saber and Leon spoke, Berserker stood to the side, armor donned and brow furrowed. Something was wrong. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. A familiar scent, one that set off a cacophony of alarm bells in the paladin’s head. She opened her mouth to warn the young Master, to stop him from turning that handle and opening that suspiciously unlocked door. “I think I’d ought to be the o-”

But it was too late.

The door was open, and inside was a grotesque tableau. Blood everywhere, except where blood ought to be - in the man, body bisected; or at the edge of the twin blades, spotless and resting among the cushions. She shifted her position to occupy most of Albert’s eyesight - someone as young as him didn’t need to be seeing something as repugnant as this, magus or otherwise.

Yet despite the similarity between their actions, there was an obvious distinction between the reaction of the two knights. Compared to Saber’s clear fury, Berserker was, ironically, quite relaxed. On her face was painted a simmering half-smile, and her bearing was distinctly unbothered, even as the carpet squelched sickeningly under the weight of her armor. She’d seen worse. She’d caused worse, and with all faculty of mind. If this grisly stage was supposed to intimidate her, it had failed. But even more than that, everything about her - from her appearance to that aura of simmering wrath - suggested a sense of belonging here, among the blood and the death. Truly a berserker by name and by nature.

“How uncivilized. Didn’t you know that fighting mortals is beneath us Servants,” Berserker clicked her tongue, casting a mocking, similarly ferocious grin at the enemy. In her right hand was a radiant silver sword, shining with radiant monochromaticity. She brandished her blade, and at the spurring of her allies a single word: “Gladly.”

Berserker burst forward, crossing the distance like a gale. A lowset dash, blade behind her, aimed for an upward stroke at the enemy Servant’s chest. But at the moment before the stroke, she lunged into his guard with her left foot. A low step, even lower than her initial sprint. A suicidal move in any situation, by all appearances. Her blade was behind her, and to bring it forward meant it would have to go through the floor.

And yet the blade did go through the floor, parting the structure as easily as it would air, slicing through the magic circle anchoring the Bounded Field in the process and aiming not for the enemy’s chest, but instead for his left knee and through to his right thigh. She would quickly follow up with a step to the right, using the posterior foot on the same side, to flank the enemy on his left, and then bring the blade down and across the left flank of the enemy’s torso and arm, ending in a defensive posture with her blade parallel to her arm to intercept any retaliation.

[vancexentan]

Interactions: @Grey@Turboshitter

===

The enemy merely chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Leaving loose ends has gotten me nowhere in the past. This man's end had come mortal or not this war is something I intend to win." The enemy servant said with a chuckle clearly not phased at all by Albert's attempt to call in more help earlier. Maybe it was due to the circle he had finished. Or maybe he just simply was happy to have someone he could finally relate to. "I see that look in your eyes and I know it all too well. When I was younger than you my dad use to say that I was a beast. But yours is held back by your own morality. It's a shame really. Still show me that power of yours! PROVE TO ME YOUR WORTHY OF THE ATTENTION OF A KING!" The enemy servant barely paid attention to her a pure primal animalistic power rose in his eyes. He charged forward to meet her but he showed much more force he rammed his face right into hers. It felt like someone had just taken a slab of concrete and smacked her full on in the face with it. Then followed up with a close range jab from his left sword. His combat sense, despite his raw craving to murder her in cold blood, apparently was left unaffected as the man deftly kept his right sword at the ready and moved it into the way of Berserker's blade and despite him only using one hand to block it held firm. "He's slower than you...use your speed Berserker!" Leon called out as he made a desperate attempt to read the enemy's skills despite Saber dragging him away. "DODGE!" the enemy servant demanded his left blade inches away from Berserker's side.

[Grey]

Prof. Sosthenes Antaeoi Kanakaris
Mizushima Household, 2:06AM
Interacting with: @Eklispe Cu Chulainn, @Turboshitter Ren Mizushima, @1Charak2 Medusa

---

Sosthenes took Ren’s revelations in stride (limp, technically, since his foot was still regenerating) as he tucked a napkin into his collar and began eating the cake Ren’s mother had prepared. After the boy had finished speaking, and he had eaten his second slice of cake, the professor became struck by a thoughtful silence.

“Lancer,” the professor said calmly, “I want you to do something for me.” He gestured for the Servant to approach, before continuing. “I want you to punch me in the face. As hard as possible. I want all of it. All of that B rank strength, focused into your fist, or whichever impact delivery system you choose, and transferred right in my cranium, sending me through that window.” He pointed to the window, the broken one supposedly shattered by Ren’s balls. “I want you to destroy this body in an explosion of gore. To launch my giblets at mach speeds, flying into the stratosphere like meteorites in reverse. Because clearly I am still sitting in the plane with the garishly loud baby and the chatty seatmate, asleep and dreaming about what has happened so far.”

He closed his eyes, extended his arms like the Christ crucified, and became silent, before quickly becoming un-silent.

“T’was a jest! A joke. A rhetorical device. A “jay kay fam ex dee”. Lancer you… didn’t actually think I was serious, I hope.” He lowered his arms, rested them on his lap, and opened an eye, assessing his apprentice and Rider from his seat. “I cannot truly say I am not proud of your initiative, but I question your judgment, Ren. Saving a woman, a Heroic Spirit no less, was an admirable act, but now you’re in something far above your paygrade - as they say. So I will take this opportunity to scold your foresight - that was it.”

He nodded sagely to himself, having doled out an acceptable token requisite punishment as a teaching lesson, even if his own personal belief was quite the opposite. Ren’s actions were unexpected, yes, but not completely undesirable. Clearly the boy had learned something of improvisation and magery if this Servant determined him to be the most acceptable Master, and the virtue he’d displayed was not something to scoff at either.

“That said, rejoice Ren Mizushima! You are now a Master in the Holy Grail War,” Sosthenes declared before making a face. “No, no. That makes me sound much too similar to those strange, corrupt Eighth Sacrament clergymen.” He waved his hand. “At any rate, regardless of the dangers, I will make it one of my goals to ensure that you survive this war,” he said proudly, flexing his toes beneath the lowset table, “You have been honest and trusting of me, and I am lodging in your home. So it is only right I extend such a courtesy to my brightest student.”

Sosthenes stood from the seat. “But as the Holy Grail War is to be conducted at night, it seems we have time for preparation at the moment,” the professor explained, ”You have my boxes, no? They should come in handy. Feel free to fraternize with Lancer as well - as I may have told you beforehand, his status as a magus may come in handy for teaching purposes and other such things.”

The professor stepped away from the table and began pacing around the ground floor, getting a feel for what the layout was. “..._{Need to erect Bounded Fields, keep the competition} out of our headquarters,” he muttered, passing through the central space once more, before stomping up the stairs. “Also need to run reconnaissance, ensure we are _{aware of what exactly we’re dealing with}…”

---

Berserker
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Dual Wielding King

---

Berserker made a guttural noise, suppressing the pain from the enemy’s headbutt through faith and fury. She was a survivor; enduring was her specialty. A face against a wall of flesh was nothing, everything that came after was likewise in the face of her skill at arms. The quick jab was sidestepped in accordance to her original motion, using the enemy’s defensive blade against him by generating extra leverage with her might in order to reach his back where, with a quick and simply flick of her wrist, her blade lashed out at the tendons and ligaments of both his knees, aiming to hamstring him in a non-lethal, but still quite vulnerable and important, position rather than the much more fatal but more easily defensible spine.

Whether it hit or not, she followed through with the momentum and back-stepped, generating an acceptable distance between the two, where the enemy would be in her sights. “You jest, Berserker. My belief in humanity is what gives me strength.” She flourished her sword, carving a half-circle straight through the floor behind her before pointing it at her opponent like a spry fencer.

[vancexentan]

@Grey
===
"THE ONLY REAL POWER IS IN ONE'S SELF! THE SOUL OF A WARRIOR MATCHES NONE! TAKE PRIDE NOT IN YOUR FAITH IN YOUR FELLOW WARRIORS. TAKE THE MOST PRIMAL INSTINCT: THE PRIDE IN YOUR SOUL! THAT PRIDE CAN LET YOU CAN OVERCOME THE GREATEST OF OBSTACLES. CLIMB THE WALLS NO ONE ELSE CAN! NEVER BE SATISFIED WITH A BEAR WHEN YOU CAN KILL A WYRM, OR EVEN A DRAGON! ONLY THEN WILL YOU UNDERSTAND IT MEANS TO BERSERKER!" roared the man as he backed away with a deft jump dodging the blows that would've rendered him helpess and then kicking a nearby broken pot at Roland's face the enemy Berserker would then try and rush forward slamming into Roland full force sending her through the wall a moment later. "There is no honor in a true fight! FIGHT TO KILL YOUR ENEMY NOTHING MORE! TO DO ANYTHING ELSE DISRESPECTS THEM!" he blared out as he lunged forward to try and ram his right sword into her gut the other sword at the ready to block if need be. The only way to properly describe the enemy Berserker was pure raw unadulterated power. His every blow was like that of a giant animal rampaging but with the intelligence of a warrior whom has more than earned his spot as a heroic spirit. If he lacked anything it would seem he lacked moderation, and any form of magical power. Or at the very least he preferred his power to it. An unstoppable object in it's finest form.

[Grey]

Berserker
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Angry Dual Wielding King

---

"Touched a nerve, did I?" the paladin quipped, a wry grimace of mild revulsion growing on her face, "I've seen your kind before. My blade destroyed their flawed beliefs, as it will yours." She twirled her sword, a clear challenge to the enemy Berserker. There was a clear statistical difference between them, yes. No doubt that this opponent was a wall of flesh and steel, but a hero facing such an obstacle was commonplace, expected even. It was like saying birds flew or fish swam - a tautology.

If she had to compare this enemy to anyone, it would be that Saracen giant Ferrau. Big, strong and quite literally invincible, but still felled by the thrust of her lance, empowered by guile and agility. Roland watched the berserker likewise, gauging the beast with well-trained eyes, waiting for the movement she was looking for. She didn't have to wait long.

Berserker tilted her body to the side, dodging the pot with ease. It was projected with his peak strength, which would have destroyed the pot on contact, so it was ample slow enough to avoid with the speed of a Servant, not even requiring peak exertion. Then the enemy charged, but this was exactly what she was looking for.

A small smile, followed by a dancing blade. And with a simple application of agile footwork, the future forced by the enemy's actions was rendered moot. If she could not defeat the enemy through force of arm, she would defeat him with superior skill.

As the blonde brute rushed forward, Berserker darted to the side and, with minimal movement, pivoted to strike at her opponent's rear flank. An expected movement by anyone with any sense, but what came next was most certainly unexpected. After all, instincts, even those of Servants refined so much that they lay within the realm of precognition, were fallible; they only took into account what the user was aware of, rather than serving as an almighty clairvoyance.

The ground creaks underneath the king, and then shifts down.

Earlier Berserker had slashed through the floor, disguised as a simple flourish of her blade. But the structure had been damaged, and the forcefulness of the enemy Servant was quite unrestrained. And so the scales of balance had been tipped, literally and metaphorically. The floor shifts in the same direction as the enraged king's step, trapping him in a precariously vulnerable position.

"Dodge."

At the same time, behind him Berserker's blade dances, leveling rapid slashes across the exposed and unbalanced warrior's unguarded posterior torso - a far more reliable target, if less immediately fatal, than aiming for his head. A triplicate flurry of mortal strikes, fast, efficient and aimed for multiple decisive blows: an upward stroke along the centerline to destabilize him further and damage the spine, a diagonal downward stroke through the shoulder to disable the arm and sunder the shoulderblade, then a side step to better target his crippled flank with a slash capable of nearly bisecting his chest.

[vancexentan]

@Grey
===
"You've done nothing I'm merely teaching the rookie how it should be! I promise you this: there has never been another like me." the man roared as he came at her but she had somehow managed to dodge him in time. Perhaps he shouldn't be going easy on her.While some were strong he had known for a fact that women were weak by stature standpoint. All thought and no blessings from the gods of war that were the primal instincts of a male trying to overwhelm his prey. They thought peacefully and carefully. That's what had left him open as he got cut on his sides a stinging pain...but ultimately it effected him about as much as a pin prick. His endurance was on par with some of the greatest there had ever been. No man, women, or beast that had crossed him had ever lived to tell the tale for long. Especially when he was around the age he had been summoned in. The first blow had cut him but barely. "Why dodge?" the man said with a snarky grin as he smacked the floor with the full force of his right foot collapsing the floor beneath him allowing him to fall into the floor below him. Dust, and wood fell around him and the glass table he landed on shattered but he paid it no mind whatsoever. He didn't even flinch as he landed on his feet. He ended up jabbing one of his swords into the ground he then moved over and smashed his fist where he knew a support beam would likely be as the floor on the 12th floor's room started to collapse...

"There's more ways to get out of a fight than to move all pretty like..." he laughed happy that this fight had turned out to have been more entertaining than his last. Of course if he had wished it this girl would've already been dead. This whole fight was a formality to him. A simple courtesy from one soldier to a true warrior. Now time would only tell if Berserker was truly worthy of that name or if he would need to collapse the whole floor...and deal with whatever the hell the mage had summoned. His master's circle had been broken and while some of the magical was likely still present it was more than likely not at full force. He may need to tactically retreat if they got any bright ideas. He hated the mere thought of running...but survival lead to a chance for a better fight later. "First rule of being a Berserker kid! Never let a worthy enemy get between you and your goal! You like your master? Then prove that his future is worth a damn and fight me!" the man commented with a crack of his neck. "Or are you like all women from our age? Easily predictable, and pointlessly naive? Weak that's all your kind is. No better than the cowards whom balked at my tales when I killed beasts of legend that dwarfs their brains."

[1Charak2]

Interacting with:@Turboshitter@Grey@Eklispe

Rider was certainly disappointed with the people her master called a friend. Did she really have to deal with these people? Surely her master could do so much better then this professor and his disgusting, filthy, unshaven, wretched, backwater urchin of a servant. So it made her happy when she did some damage to his foot. She knew he would be able to heal it off. Any mage worth their tax should be able to heal such a minor injury. It still felt good all the same.

She stayed silent in the corner listening to what was being spoken, ignoring the professor's comments about condoms whatever they were, his tone of voice seemed to implicit something of a sexual nature to them. So she ignored it. She didn't think of her master in that way. He was a tool to her currently in order to sustain her existence. She was just playing along with a nicety-nice act. It was certainly easier when her Master was probably the most respectable person in this room.

Sorry, Rider. These guys are our allies, so I think we kind of has to tell them. Don't worry, though, you can trust them. The professor's a creep, but he's not a bad guy. Usually... Her master's voice was coming through clearly in her mind. Certainly, she was going to use this link to speak a word of her mind

"Master I am about to list everything I dislike about these two while you talk to them. I expect you to listen to everything I say without failure..." She started as she spoke across the link for what seemed like hours when in reality it was only a few minutes. "...and thats why I believe the professor is a scam and his servant is a joke. Honestly, you deserve so much better. I might not be able to see them but I bet they are both either as ugly as their apparent nature or lucky enough to be given a face a mother could love before I mold it into what it should be!" She finished having finally vented all her frustrations across the telepathic link so only Ren could hear.

She sighed very apparently as she relaxed again. Rider didn't have much to do but to watch her master. She couldn't do any reading with her eye mask nor did she want to leave her masters side with those people in the room, so she defaulted to what a servant should always do.

Protect and serve.
Protect and serve
Protect and Lecture her master on how to have a backbone

[Turboshitter]

Albert Prelati

Interacting with: Berserker (@Grey), Leon & Saber (@vancexentan)

Jonathan's base of operations - 2:32 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

Albert sneered at the enemy Berserker's sexist comments towards his Servant. "What a lovely man 'e is. Truly a gentleman and a scholar, zis one."

But he was curious. Why did his own Servant not use Mad Enhancement to boost her abilities? Had she not understood his command? Or was this simply another aspect of her pride?

He winced in pain. Even with the field gone (all thanks to Berserker no not that one), he could still feel the residual effects like red hot needles tickling his nerve endings. His Circuits needed stretching and some time to heal, and time was something they couldn't afford to waste while Berserker was still in the area. Luckily, he had an idea.

He checked the positions of his wraiths. Still regrouping. The field had momentarily disrupted his ability to exert fine-tuned control over the summoned spirits, causing them to drift farther apart. It would mean further delays before they could hope to corner Berserker or force a retreat. What he needed most was to buy a few more seconds of time. Immobilize Berserker and catch him off-guard.

He gave the order.

At that moment, Albert's fairies dove out of the thick cloud of dust and smoke they'd been hiding in, two of them trailing a large strip of cloth cut out from the hotel curtains. With the efficiency and grace of tiny fighter pilots, they wrapped the cloth around Berserker's left leg, tripping him up and hopefully yanking him to the floor with an upward motion. Though they could not hope to do more than deter the Servant for a moment, let alone hold him, they could do all they needed to do. Thirty-four pairs of arms grabbed Berserker from below, grasping and clawing at any point of purchase they could find in his flesh. The wraiths rose from the floor, piling on top of him like a solid mass and weighing him down until he couldn't move. While their ability to interfere physically with the material plane was low as mere individuals, together they could hold him. At least for a little while.

Albert looked down on the enemy Berserker from the floor above.

"I am afraid you and your Master 'ave underestimated me, you musclebound oaf. You zink you can just walk out of 'ere after all you've said and done? No no no, mon petit chien. I fight for my own future," he boasted. "And ze one I see is one wiz you dead on ze ground."

He turned to his own Berserker. "Ma chère? 'E's all yours."

Ren Mizushima

Interacting with: Rider (@1Charak2), Sosthenes (@Grey), Lancer (@Eklispe)

Fuyuki City, Miyama Town - 2:06 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

Though it seemed at first that he wasn't registering all of Rider's insults about his mentor and the Servant neither of them really knew, Ren did take notice of Rider's words. Just perhaps not the parts she'd wanted him to.

Wait, you can't see them? he asked incredulously, but then he immediately began backpedaling. I-I mean obviously you couldn't with that blindfold on, but I thought you must have been using some kind of magic that allowed you to see through it. You mean you really can't?

Ren thought briefly about how he might fix this issue before dopily remembering who Rider had introduced herself as. The fact that she was Medusa, or at least claimed to be, did worry him a little, but it explained a lot about her current predicament and what he might be able to do to solve it. The answer was so easy in fact it seemed almost mundane to someone so well-versed in the subject.

Rider, he began before correcting himself. I mean Medusa... do you want me to call you "Rider" or "Medusa"? I mean I can do either-! Wait, that was stupid of me, nevermind... Ummm... that blindfold. It's for your Mystic Eyes, right? The Mystic Eyes of Petrification? The lost Jewel-class ocular magic that nobody has possessed since the Age of Gods? If... if that's why you can't see, I think I might have a fix for that.

Ren sat up, and did a quick jog up the stairs to his room. Fumbling around with the nightstand, he clumsily pulled out a drawer that was full of unused pairs of glasses. Glasses like the ones he wore, as a matter of fact. He rummaged through them, looking for a pair that he thought Rider might like. Eventually he settled on a simple wireframe set with oval lenses. Tough, durable and no-nonsense, like her.

He rushed back downstairs carrying the glasses, leaving the drawer lying open on his bed. Excited, perhaps more than was reasonable, Ren said "Try these!" and pressed the glasses into Rider's open palms.

"They're Mystic Eye Killers," he said aloud. "They should help suppress the effects so you don't have to wear that blindfold anymore."

Truth be told he was supremely curious to see what Rider's eyes looked like. Both because she was already beautiful even with the blindfold on, but also because so few people had ever gotten to see the Gorgon's eyes up close, and fewer still could claim to have survived. He felt like he'd be joining an exclusive club if he could catch a glimpse of them. Ren Mizushima would be the first mage in millennia to gaze upon the Mystic Eyes of Petrification. People had written entire thesis papers based on less than that!

Plus, he thought, blushing a little, he wanted to be helpful to Rider if he could...

[vancexentan]

@Turboshitter@Grey
===

"You know this is why we can't have nice things like a good fight...fine master do what you want." growled in resignation Berserker's eyes glared with distaste for his own words as a pair of knives were thrown at the wraiths gutting them with the power of sacramental holy magic. Berserker took this chance to use his own sword. The remaining left sword had been infused with the power of some sort of magic as he swung it an ice elemental power ran through the wraiths dissipating and destroying them. A gun was pressed against the head of Albert from the top floor as he looked over he saw Saber had managed to get a piece of broken wood against the man's throat. However the man's face was covered by a skeleton mask. A cross hung around his neck. He showed no sign of fear that Saber was going to kill him if he so much as moved a finger. On the other floor the door had been kicked down abruptly a man in a black leather jacket strolled across from the bottom floor. He himself has his face covered in a clown mask. "I apologize sir Albert I didn't see him in time." Saber said clearly annoyed by his situation he had left his guard open he hadn't expected a man like Berserker to actually have a plan like this.

"It's over. This fight is over. I hadn't expected to have to use my black keys in a place like this. But I have learned from my job never to underestimate the depravity of magus." the man said with a heavy Austrian accent as he looked at the servant whom apparently was his own. "I told you that we should've just cut the elevator cables. IT would've been much more efficient. I will not let you have your way like this again." the man said with a cold dismissive wave to his servant as he looked up at other Berserker. "You there. It would be wise not to kill me. The moment my heart stops beating this whole building explodes." the man said as he pulled his jacket aside and pulled up his white t-shirt underneath it to reveal a plethora of scars and a trace of a wire going up his body.

"I would hate for all of us to leave this world like this. However I still have much to do in life before I die. As much as Berserker may not like my methods. I intend to get out of here alive. My associate up there is not the only one I have with me. Another one is outside with a sniper rifle loaded with anti-infantry rounds. 50mm Rounds practically anti tank rifle ammunition personally crafted with rune magic capable of piercing most anything. In other words anti-magus rounds capable of piercing magical shields. On my word as a hunter of dead apostles I promise you all this. If you back away from this now we will all walk out of this alive. If you chose not to. We all wind up dead. The explosives are set, and protected by holy sacramental magics on the ground, and bottom floor. This whole place will be an inescapable death trap the second my heart stops beating. So your move." the man said with a cold indifference. He obviously preferred live to death but he simply didn't care about getting out of here alive. "I told you not to do this!" Berserker said with a indignant groan as his wound at his side started to heal up. "I promised you we'd try it your way. A 'honorable fight among true warriors' was how you put it. Out of respect for you, and your power I allowed it. However as I have seen so many times over the magi are a dishonorable lot. As the man just said he cares only about his true power. Nothing more nothing less. A poor excuse for a godless heathen." the man dismissed Berserker's words with no care at all. "I assure you my words of genuine I have no reason to lie I hold all the cards in this situation. Your life, my life, and the life of your friend. I could end us all with a press of a button but I have chosen not to because I am better than you." the man said with a cold dismissal of both Leon, and Albert.

"I'm still here you know...geh....damn that still stings...look Albert. I'm not to fond of death I'd prefer it if we backed off for now. Worse case he picks us off outside with a sniper and walks away. Best case we get blown up inside a fifteen story building and we're definitely dead. So yeah I'm leaving if you want to die that's your choice but I have people I want to go back home to. Besides...after what Berserker did to Jonathan...I've seen enough gore for a life time." Leon said wincing from pain as he tried to recover. "If that is your wish my master than I shall obey. However I would not trust these men myself. How do I know you're not lying to us sir?" Saber demanded of the man from downstairs. "You don't." the man with the gun to Albert's head said with a flatness of a cold hearted killer.

[Turboshitter]

Albert Prelati

Interacting with: Berserker (@Grey), Leon & Saber (@vancexentan)

Jonathan's base of operations - 2:40 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

Albert's heart stopped the moment he felt the cold metal kiss of the gun barrel against his head.

Damn.

Well this was hardly ideal. How had he not noticed him? For that matter, how did Saber not notice him? Bah, he'd been sloppy. Or perhaps in Saber's case, intentionally inept. It was awfully convenient that Albert was the only one here with a gun to his head...

He cursed under his breath. Then he saw the man who'd cornered him, and he flat-out swore. If he'd said it once, he'd said it a thousand times. Never trust a priest!

No, not a priest. Not exactly. This man was either an Executor or an Eighth Sacrament member, perhaps even a Church-affiliated mercenary. The violence and hypocrisy of God personified. Or perhaps just what man believed to be God.

As he laid out his terms, Albert bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet until he could put away the urge to say what was really on his mind. Blood squirted down his chin. Mindful of his situation, he turned to the man behind him.

"Ze next time we do zis dance, I'm coming for you first. I'm sure you'll make great puppy-chow."

Some of his anger vented, he looked up at the Dead Apostle Hunter.

"As much as I despise your smug attitude, I wouldn't say I 'ave any great desire to die today eizer. Satisfying as it would be to take a self-righteous ass'ole like you down wiz me in a fiery chasm of shame and jet fuel, I have greater ambitions to live for past ze next five minutes."

He sighed, breathing deeply as he took his life into his own hands with his next words.

"'Owever, a man who admits 'e cannot be trusted should probably be taken at 'is word, and zerefore I propose a trade. If we truly all want to leave zis building alive, razer zen one party conning ze ozer and killing zem as soon as zey've broken eye contact, zen I would 'ave you agree to play 'ost to a few friends of mine. A few fairies to keep a finger on ze killswitch is all I ask, at least until I'm convinced we are out of range of any 'idden snipers. Failing zat, I feel as zough signing a geas scroll forbidding you and your men from attacking us again until nightfall should be no unreasonable demand. My friend Leon 'ere tells me 'e is quite good at crafting such scrolls. Aren't you, Leon?"

He nodded at his erstwhile "partner" (for Berserker was his only true partner in his mind), and then returned his gaze to the hunter.

"Well? Zose are your choices. Clock is ticking. Eizer you agree to my terms and we all walk away or I'll tell ma chère it's off wiz your 'ead and we all get to die togezer."

Ma chère, if you've got any tricks up your sleeve, now is ze time.

[Grey]

Berserker
12th Floor Hotel Room
Interacting with: @Turboshitter Albert Prelati, @VanceXentan Lancelot, Leon Winchester, Actual Berserker Berserker, Bozo the Suicide Bomber, Spoopy Skeltan Man

---

Though the proximity would have made it simple to fall down with the opponent and bury her blade within his back while he was flat-footed and decidedly lacking in aerial maneuvering finesse, the fact he’d been able to endure a single stroke of her blade was cause for caution. That said, the single fact that this so-called ‘true warrior’ had been forced to yield ground to a ‘rookie’ such as her was enough to bring an arrogant smile to her face.

“Tsk tsk. That’s still dodging, Berserker,” she sneered down at scarred brute from on high, mockingly wagging her finger like a mother or schoolmarm disciplining a child. “Perhaps the real rookie here is you.”

Regardless of whatever collateral carnage was unfolding around her, Berserker - both of them - were clearly relishing this situation. She hopped down to meet him, falling in tandem with the dust and debris and landing on a cushioned seat, posed like some kind of snarky asshole with a death wish. You know the one I’m talking about. She didn’t waste long in that position - only long enough to hear Berserker rant at her about with his misogynistic rhetoric - and stood, saying: “I agree Master. I can only imagine how cultured his court must have been.”

Her eyes locked on the enemy across the room, eyes like cold steel.

“Well it’s pretty clear you and I have very different goals in mind,” she laughed. “Besides, my Master can clearly take care of himself; the only one withdrawing here is you and your illusion of power.”

At that moment, as if perfectly timed (it wasn’t, but she’d pretend it was), Albert’s wraiths entered the fray, only to be taken down by a very familiar set of throwing blades: the Black Keys, the trademark weapons of the Holy Church. Immediately her attention turned to the two newcomers, bearing the appropriate religious symbols as confirmation of their affiliation.

Which, naturally, made Berserker go nearly… berserk, once their next actions were revealed.

But she had to hold her tongue, for now. Her Master’s life depended on it. She took a deep breath to still herself, to tuck away the growing lividity… for the moment - a good call, given the kill switch the man had affixed to himself. “Yes, for once, I agree with the other Berserker - this is an ill-fit conclusion,” she grit her teeth, hearing this devil continue to quote scripture as it suited him. And such statements seemed to have demoralized her allies, which only served to further drive her to rage. This whole farce was one of the greatest offences imaginable to inflict on someone of her disposition.

’Very well, Master,’ Berserker responded, her hidden wrath evident in the tone of her thought, ’I’m going to activate my Noble Phantasm. You have five seconds to prepare a Command Seal if you want to stop me.’

Berserker buried her blade into the floor and eyed everyone, but especially the masked clergymen. “You two are members of the Church, non? I would recognize those blades anywhere - An archbishop I knew was quite fond of them, the heretics and devils he’d crushed under heel… quite less so.”

Berserker, finally looking almost fit for the class at this point, began chuckling grimly, “Truly you are like the believer that dasheth their faith upon the stone.” Her hands gripped the pommel of the blade and for a the briefest of moments, a shadow came over her as she intoned, blade glowing with unmatched radiance - a mark of faith purer than any.

“Durendal.”

A Bounded Field expanded over the area, reaching about a city block in diameter. All within it - that is, everyone - immediately felt the effects. A strange stillness settled, and any who found the urge to act rashly would find themselves pacified unless they passed a check equal to the rank of the Noble Phantasm, which revealed to be A+ in the clairvoyance of any gathered Masters.

“Now then,” Berserker smiled, unsettlingly. Though no danger would come to anybody from her, there was that pervasive sense of rage underpinning her newfound satisfaction, “You heretics will not be getting away that easily, I assure you. But I am getting ahead of myself.” She walked over to the ruined hotel counter, the one with the coffee mug, and began preparing the pre-provided teas, one for everyone, even that other Berserker.

“Yes, those who will not heareth the Word or the will are forgivable, but purposeful denial? The act of hypocrites, your faith is nothing but a sham,” she handed her Master a cup, and then Leon and Lancelot. “You spit upon your dead kinsmen, you spit upon the Church you claim to serve, and you spit upon the legend of two powerful heroes - isn’t that right, Beowulf? Don’t act so surprised, not many barbarian kings tote twin blades and boast of slaying beasts. My words may fall on your pagan ears, but at least your convictions are truer than your Master’s. Would you like some tea?”

She handed it to him anyway, then looked to the masked folk.

“For shame, defenders of Christendom don’t wear masks like that - especially you, corpse. You like an Assassin, one of those filthy Saracan fanatics - though I would not be surprised if that was the case,” she booped the nose of the man with the gun to her Master, and turned to the other, “And you - pierrot - well, in the past the role of the priest was also the role of the jester, so I applaud you for your commitment to history - and your true nature as a fool among fools. Hell welcomes your sort..”

She gave him a dismissive handwave.

“But take that garish explosive off - it will do you no good, even if this field was to be lowered by me. Everyone knows spiritual bodies won’t be affected by weapons without mystery, and a Command Spell is sufficient to allow for escape.”

She turned to Leon this time.

“Would you like to compose a geas contract so we can ensure everyone’s jolly cooperation while we parlay like civilized folk?”

Something about that wasn’t a question.

And all of this occurred, in Albert’s clairvoyance, Berserker’s stat sheet changed, revealing a single skill with its first activation: Hamartia, Rank B.

[vancexentan]

@Turboshitter@Grey
====
"Making a Geas Scroll isn't something one can do on the fly. Besides I'm not fond of writing down stuff with my blood anymore than I have today." Leon bluntly asserted himself remembering the fact that his fingers still hurt from hours it took the write the one he did already write. "More over I don't have any paper to write it down on." Leon said feeling the need to point out the obvious lack of any writing sources. His scroll was the only thing he had written down. "Writing one's own name down on those accursed scroll would be mind numbingly pointless anyways. It would bind me, and my friend but not the sniper child. So in order to restore this order peacefully call on your fae allies. I'll give you five minutes to make clear of the area before I disperse them. To make it clear though Berserker I order you as your master protect me if they attack me before the time limit is up. Now then...Though I hardly trust the word of a no good brat magus I will put my faith in your heroic spirits. That one next to you isn't yours is he? Then he shouldn't be helping you. That means he's an honorable fool above all else. And the girl wouldn't let herself live this down if she wasn't the one who killed my Berserker now would she? This battle is over but the war isn't per say. So call your familiars quickly. I have a time table to keep, and a Russian Mafia boss to track down after I'm done playing nice with you kids." the below flatly said as he pulled the black keys from the nearby wall and put one of them away keeping one in his hand. "A wise call Albert. I agree with this scenario." Saber said simply as Leon frowned he had hoped Saber wouldn't be the type to need additional support to force an agreement like this to it's natural conclusion. The man next to Albert backed off but didn't lower his gun.

"Come at me when you're ready kid. I'll be in this city until you shitty magi get done with your war. Then I'm going back to saving innocent people from your type of scum." the man said with clear disgust for Albert and Saber whom pulled the slab of wood in his hands back. "On a scale from one to fucked I'd definitely say the situation is heading towards the latter really quickly..." Leon grumbled as he took one last look at the room Berserker was in. He saw Jonathan's blood trickling down the floor into the bottom room.

However as the bounded field of Durandal activated Leon could feel Saber tense up and he had to immediately tell him not to do what he intended to do. "Not yet! Not here! If we do it here this whole thing will go to shit!" Leon begged Saber who despite his shaking hands and fierce desire to actually do something meekly obeyed the will of his master and didn't conjure his formerly holy blade into existence. The man whom had the bomb strapped to his body spit on the floor. "You know nothing of my faith beast. When I had no where else to go I gave myself to god. And I have saved countless lives in my time. In exchange my blood covered hands will never know the touch of our messiahs. That is the simple fate I have accepted. My life for others." the man said flatly. As Berserker laughed heartily at this whole nonsensical situation he gave Berserker a shake of his head but accepted the cup. "Heh...Fine I'll give you that woman. You're at least interesting. But I'm surprised you're not more in awe of my presence. Beowulf 'The Bear of Geatland' is what they call me now of days right? I am the original berserker. It's my duty to teach saplings like you how to be a real warrior. Your lord god is nothing to me but I respect a person for whom it's worth. Even if I have to fight the same stupid blade twice in two days.". Saber, and Leon had also composed their attitudes and accepted the drinks with a nod though Leon's hands where shaking a little. "As I said the bomb will not come off me. I can force Beowulf to attack with a command seal even this barrier cannot hold against their power. Take me at my word if nothing else." the man said flatly as he rejected Berserker's offer of tea. "As for the contract I've said my words I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than to stoop to a level of unfairness such as that." The gunsmen whom had been assisting the enemy master took his tea and turned around and took a sip after moving his mask up slightly. But he turned around again before anyone could see his face. "Fucking bounded fields...this is why I prefer guns." the man grumbled to himself. "Sorry Berserker as it stands...I kind of don't have the supplies." Leon said simply with a shrug.

[1Charak2]

Interacting with:@Turboshitter@Grey@Eklispe

Rider heard her masters response. I-I mean obviously you couldn't with that blindfold on, but I thought you must have been using some kind of magic that allowed you to see through it. You mean you really can't? He said across the link as if he was only just figuring it out. Of course she couldn't see through her eye mask, otherwise her passive noble phantasm would activate and probably kill her master, considering what she could see about his mana reserves through her inference of magical energies. I really can't see master. she said across the link as if confirming a child's question.

Her master continued. He was smart enough to figure out it was to do with her eyes, not like it took any higher cognitive thinking because she had already stated her name but she responded to her his statement of names. If you want to Master you may call me by my first name, I will grant you that respect if I may call you Ren, out of the company of friends, though, I would prefer you go by my title to not give away all of our game plans. she said slowly across the link as if to emphasize her demands.

She waited for her master to return from his trip upstairs wondering just what he would get her that was so much better than her blindfold. The sudden yell of "Try These" in her ear got the message across to her that her master really wanted her to try them on. These glasses that could seal her mystic eyes. A best of both worlds. "How do you have these?" She said allowed questioning her master as she felt the glasses frame in her hands. A gift for her? Ren was so nice, how sweet. Her old master didn't get her a gift. So it was safe to say this master was going to be a keeper.

"Well. I guess if I am quick enough... I change into these glasses in here" She began as she turned away from everyone, making sure that they were all out of her field of vision. She took a couple of steps away so she was at a fair distance. She raised her hands up to her face. Pulling off her blindfold which essentially vanished in her hands. A signification of the removal of her Gorgon Breaker.

At once light poured into her eyes, it was tainted a slight shade of purple as if the color of poison. She didn't blink, her eyes unblinking unfazed. They were jewels in her socket. They were the significance of her name, the pivot of her legend. Her eyes were colored grayish in hue, her pupils rectangular in shape. She saw the world differently to most. This was the first time she had seen the world after such a massive time gap. It was certainly what was referred to as... The modern household. She looked down at the glasses her master at gave to her. He had a nice taste.

She put them on her face, the purple hue fading from her sight as if to signify the eyes having their petrifying effect negated. Truly these Breaker things were a marvel of an Item. She would love to have more of them. To her, these things would be worth 10 time their weight in gold if she could read and not petrify all the humans around her.

She turned back around and looked at the group. Her eyes were no longer a complete grayish hue and had taken on a purplish coloration which was still an unnatural color for a 'human' to have and yet her pupils were still very much rectangular though so any facade of normal eyes was completely gone, at least she didn't freeze the entire crowd.

She was looking at her master first and the first thing that was going through her head was... Oh the Gods. I actually thought he was younger. Now I look like I was flirting with him and now hes going to think I am actually into him and... She sighed audibly as she composed her thoughts. Giving the rest of a group a wink (something she was now capable of doing now that her eyes were somewhat sealed). "Well now that I can tell what you all actually look like..." She began. "You sound younger then you are Ren." She looking to her master. "Also, You are as ugly as I thought 'Professor'" She continued pointing to the man in front of her. "Honestly, you really need to learn how to treat a lady." She said with an annoyed huff on her face before continuing onto the professor's servant. "And you... Well, your appearance already does the commentary for me." She said as she waved her hand as if to show how insignificant she thought of Lancer perhaps if both Lancer and the professor had been nicer with the introductions she wouldn't treat them so badly.

She'll stop eventually when they both prove that they are decent human beings but she just stood there looking at everyone. Getting used to the fact that she now needed to blink every now and then. "Master, I also think I am going to need a new outfit..." She said looking down at herself. "Glasses wouldn't fit with my regular attire you know..." she sounded very embarrassed.

Taka Frederick & Assassin

Interacting with: @Shadow Daedalus

Taka watched her new 'friend's suspicious look of her as if he was reading her with his eyes. Was he wanting something specific? Surely she made it clear that they weren't going to hurt him after all he still had the mana leak on him. It made her wonder. Jack was busy looking at her for advice on how to deal with people in a manner other than killing them. Bless her. Her 'daughter' was so lost with talking to people sometimes that it was adorable.

Of course, she wouldn't restrain her actions of being a surrogate to Jack in front of this gentleman. No sir, It was a sort of unspoken oath she took to be the mother Jack never had and to be better then her parents were at it all the same. She certainly cared a lot for her daughter even if she was a serial killer with some issues Taka understood it and like a good mother understood when her daughter needed space to vent some steam and frustrations.

She watched the servants raised expression at her own comment on head pats. It was fine to be surprised. She was joking anyway. Though this servant could be a problem if they got on the wrong side. Taka's mental thoughts continued to churn around in contemplation in a manner similar to Jacks subconscious murmurs. She had one very effective option she could choose.

She waited for him to finish what he was saying about having a safe house. Interesting. Probably better than what she had back at the apartment she squatted at. Maybe she could get a good shower and her clothes fully washed. Yea that would be awesome. Then she could get Jack another cheap dress to wear and-and. Taka shook her head bringing her focus back. She was talking about a man who had just beaten her in a fight. Though he would still make a good ally.

"Well okay, James, as a token of gratitude for not killing me." She began as she began to utter a spell under her breath removing the curse she had inflicted on him. He would at once feel a surge of relief as if he was once again whole. "I just removed the curse I placed on you. Your welcome. Certainly, I guess you could say we are at least like minded people. I don't know if we can trust you enough but for now, you've shown you can handle yourself and we need all the help we can get in this grail war so... Let's extend that temporary truce to an alliance shall we?" Taka said leaving her statement open for a response before continuing. "So are we going to go to your safe house or not. Its cold and I would rather not get hypothermia along with this neck injury."

[Turboshitter]

Ren Mizushima

Interacting with: Rider (@1Charak2), Sosthenes (@Grey), Lancer (@Eklispe)

Fuyuki City, Miyama Town - 2:06 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

He nodded, signaling he understood.

I'd be happy if you called me Ren... Medusa, he thought, trying the name out. It had a feeling of trust behind it when he used it, but something about it still felt like it must carry painful memories. To be remembered the way she was, to die like that and be reviled by humanity to the point that she would even call herself a monster.

He turned his back to her while she put on the glasses. It would hardly do to make accidental eye contact with her right now. Too risky, at least until they knew the glasses worked.

He knew the Medusa myth, after all. The real story too, not the dime store fiction sold to the masses in pop culture. He'd crawled ass-first through enough ancient Greek ruins to know that Medusa hadn't started life as a monster. She had been a beautiful mortal, or in some stories a lesser earth goddess, who had been wrongfully punished by the gods for crimes she did noy commit and was cursed with a mane of snakes and looks that could kill. Most people thought Medusa was just another monster, but he knew the truth. Medusa's tale was a sad story, not a happy one about heroes and villains.

Rider finally putting on a pair of his glasses was the thing that snapped him out of his contemplation. He looked up, and for the first time in thousands of years, a mortal locked eyes with the dreaded Gorgon.

"W-Wow..." he couldn't help but say. Her eyes were as beautiful as she was. Powerful, elegant, and demanding. They had none of the predatory feeling he'd been expecting. To him they seemed like unblinking white orbs carved from marble, a crystal-like iris framing perfectly square pupils to signify her non-human ancestry. There was no better name for such oblique yet exquisite artistry than "jewels".

Painfully aware he was staring, Ren blinked. Quick! He needed to change the subject!

"Because I'm like you," he blurted abruptly. "That's why I have them, I mean..."

Ren smiled sheepishly.

"Well, that's not exactly true, I guess. My Pure Eyes are nowhere near as coo-... dangerous as your Eyes of Petrification," he said, trying to catch himself before he said something that might offend Rider. "All mine do is let me see into the past, and I can't shut them off. Kinda dumb, huh? I need these glasses so I can, y'know, function normally. It's total sensory overload if I take them off. And yeah, I get that a lot. I think it's these glasses. They make me look younger."

When she asked him about new clothes, seeming uncharacteristically embarrassed, he suddenly became aware of just how lewd Rider's outfit really was, and in no time at all he was blushing so hard he looked like a giant strawberry. He hadn't even thought about it before. With the blindfold on it kinda just seemed to... I dunno, suit her? It didn't seem as weird as it did now.

"Y-Yeah! Here, le-lemme go get you some!" he shouted, flustered. He practically ran up the stairs into his mom's room, looking for some loose-fitting clothes like sweaters or old jeans.

He hadn't turned to stone yet, but something else certainly had...

After splashing himself with cold water and giving himself a minute to calm down, Ren returned with some of his baggier sweatshirts and hoodies as well as a few pairs of his mom's old jeans. He gave them to Rider. Much to his embarrassment, he'd noticed while picking out outfits that the size of clothing he and his mother wore weren't actually all that different, painfully reminding him of how short he was for someone his age.

He sighed. Hopefully his sweaters wouldn't be too small for Rider to wear. They wouldn't have many options left if they were, besides an impromptu shopping spree.

"How are they? Do you think they'll fit?" he asked cautiously.

[Shadow Daedalus]

And

Interacting with: Taka, Assassin (Jack) @1Charak2

As Taka finished her spell, James became aware of a unusual drain within his magic circuits, but only as he felt it slowly close as if plugging itself. As she explained that she had removed a curse she had placed on him, his mind began to process her words. She mentioned removing a curse at the same time as the drain disappeared, and he had noticed his Mana levels were much lower than they should have been during the confrontation with the Hassan-incarnation of Assassin. By his best guess, it was a counter-magic curse she had placed on him at some point around their first fight. While not completely effective against non-magi or unconventional ones like himself, it would be a devastating weapon against other Magi.

A weapon they would be able to use together, it seemed, as she extended her invitation to an alliance.

"An Alliance. That's something I can agree to."

As she continued, he didn't respond verbally and instead just nodded his head. He started walking in the direction of his safehouse, but not the one he had spent the night before at, brushing off his servant's mental questioning with a few concise answers. In truth, he had three safehouses scattered around Fuyuki, and another just outside of the area. They were old properties of his mentor, but after she had disappeared he had decided to make the best use he could out of them. It didn't take long for the Magi pair and their respective partners to reach it, hidden in plain sight in the suburbs.

It was a fairly nondescript two bedroom house with an attached garage, its dull white walls fading into the sea of monotony surrounding it. Unlocking the front door, he took a second to take in the view before he stepped into the hallway, allowing his newly minted ally to follow him. The first door on the right was a fairly large living room, with enough space to comfortably fit two black armchairs and a matching 3-person sofa with a glass coffee table between them. Directly across from them was a large TV on a metal and glass TV cabinet with a DVD Player and games console all stacked on different shelves. There was a modern kitchen attached at the far end, a wooden table with 6 chairs sitting comfortably to the side of the black marble worktops.

Off to the left side of the hall was a set of stairs, leading up to the first floor which held the bedrooms and one of the building's bathrooms, the other being further down the hall on the left. At the very end was another door to the kitchen, and directly to the side was the door leading into the small attached garage. To the uninformed, it seemed like a pretty normal house, a little too big for one man to live in alone, but otherwise ordinary.

Stepping into the living room, James smoothly removed his coat and tossed into onto one of the arm chairs, revealing himself to be wearing a slim grey shirt with a black tie and waistcoat over black slacks and low-profile boots. His pistol was still holstered to his chest as he went over and leaned against the threshold of the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink, or is there something that you need to pick up from your... place first?"

[Turboshitter]

Albert Prelati

Interacting with: Berserker (@Grey), Leon & Saber (@vancexentan)

Jonathan's base of operations - 2:40 PM December 2nd, 2012

Hider

Albert looked around at the room, stunned. A pacification field. He'd had no idea Durandal possessed this sort of ability.

He sighed. Well, that was that then. Their cat, unlike David, still chilling in the hotel icebox, was officially out of the bag. Oh well. He could hardly complain. He'd asked her to do it after all, and while it may have seemed as though the effort had come to nought, Berserker sounded like he already knew the identity of that sword anyway. Said that he didn't want to cross paths with it "again".

But that confused Albert. As (his) Berserker had revelatorily explained, the man before them was none other than Beowulf. Yet, to his knowledge, Beowulf had lived in a completely different part of the world hundreds of years apart from Roland. How would he have ever encountered Durandal? It was impossible. Unless he meant of course that someone else in this War possessed the same Noble Phantasm as Berserker did. Now there was a worrying thought...

Albert decided not to think too hard about that just yet. For now, it seemed as though the sacrifice they'd made in revealing Berserker's identity today hadn't been entirely without meaning. That alone was worthy of some measured amount of relief. And now they had a clue as to the identity of another enemy Servant. A very confusing one, but a clue nonetheless.

Already some names occurred to him. Weyland the Smith seemed the most likely, as many versions of the Matter of France attested to him having forged Durandal, as well as the twin swords of Beowulf, Naegling and Hrunting. But then wouldn't Beowulf have addressed him with more familiarity? It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start.

He frowned. The real problem now was,

"What do you mean you don't 'ave ze equipment?" he asked Leon accusatorily. "You can forge a geas wizout a scroll, can't you? Seems to me like zat should be much easier to do zan making one of zose accursed zings. Did your mozer really not teach you?"

He'd been hoping Leon would say he could make a proper scroll. Self-geas scrolls tended to be much more binding than the relatively informal version he was now being forced to propose. They'd hold fast even after death, whereas a geas forged by a mutual agreement between two magi without a scroll could still be undone (albeit with significant effort).

He didn't doubt they'd try either. These men, and the man behind him... they were clearly all fanatics worse than Roland. Reasoning with them was pointless from the beginning. But if they could just get out of her with their squishy parts still inside them...

That's when he noticed. Something interesting had popped up on his Servant's stat sheet.

Hamartia...?