[h2]Bridget Carran[/h2]

Archer. Some sort of Asian Heroic Spirit, she would wager, and thus likely unfamiliar to the most likely Masters assembled here in America. All in all, the perfect Servant in the rune mage's opinion--someone capable of acting independently and preserving their identity as long as possible.

"I am," she said, ignoring the burning fealing of the Command Seals etching themselves onto her body in favour of rooting around on a table for something; pain was something that she was extremely familiar with, "Archer, how good are you at operating without my direct support?"

[hr]
[h2]The Other Saber[/h2]

As the light dimmed and the swirling mist cleared, you could forgive the nun for thinking that something had gone horrifically wrong and, despite her church affiliation, some demonic monstrosity had been called instead of the desired hero: an armoured figure enveloped by darkness, their features indistinct and their entire appearance alien. Yet their bearing and the distorted speech that followed belied the impression, suggesting maybe that things had gone to plan after all.

"I ask of you... are you my Master?" the black knight asked, sizing up his summoner. A nun, much as she had been in the end, and with four more to support her. A Master that he could fully support, should they hold to the vows that they had sworn.