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[quote][color=a6acb5][b]Location:[/b][/color] Urquhart Castle, Scotland.
[color=a6acb5][b]Interacting with:[/b][/color] James Hartnet [@Shadow Daedalus]; the other Masters of Red by association.
[color=a6acb5][b]Magical energy:[/b][/color] 600 out of 600.[/quote]
It's a terribly unique sensation: being constructed in tidal waves of mana, under the careful direction of the grail. It's almost as if drowning in the sensation of pins and needles, yet every part of you grows as it goes on. Was this once common, a long time ago? It's an interesting thought.

As the light faded, with his being now constructed, the french assassin came into view. Contrary to the accounts of the assassination, he was quite well presented: a crisp black doublet with steel buttons and a large hat seemingly made to be worn on an angle stood out as the most obvious features - need not mention his crisp, almost flowing facial hair - with white underdress under dark sleeves, trousers, and boots following behind. Beneath his belt, sagging slightly underneath his waist, was another belt: this one with a large pouch at the left hip, accompanied by flasks of black powder and other such odds and ends for a certain wheellock pistol.

Archer stared at the young magus in front of him, shooting a quick glance to the rifle worn on his back, as his left hand wandered down to his belt. He tugged on the bandoleer of sorts, testing its weight and feeling its features, before shifting his expression towards a scowl - his mustache twitching with irritation. 
[color=a6acb5][b]"Archer, then..."[/b][/color] he muttered to himself, as he turned his back to his would-be master to then take a few steps back from the circle. His right hand lifted from his side, his fingers stretching out for a wheellock carbine to spontaneously form between them: it was certainly a longer firearm, perhaps intended to be carried with both hands, but he wielded it with one regardless. As he came to stand effectively beside his master, a couple of paces in front, he spoke in a quiet voice, with his weapon close in hand: [color=a6acb5][b]"The formalities can wait. Can you explain what's going on here? Why all seven servants are being summoned in the same spot?"[/b][/color] His gaze darted between not only the spawning servants, but also their would-be masters, cautious of some sick interpretation of the Holy Grail War or worse: something deeper, a conspiracy. He even shot a few glances to his would-be master to ensure he wasn't lifting a knife to his back.