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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]; Saber of Black [@Turboshitter]; Arieh Ayondale [@Turboshitter].
[color=a6acb5][b]Magical energy:[/b][/color] 600 out of 600 → 592 out of 600.[/quote]
After the situation was explained to him, Archer was initially silent; his expression was still, offering no visible reaction to his young master. A moment later, his expression cracked into a faint smile, before erupting into a gentle laugh as he eased his stance. 
[color=a6acb5][b]"Oh heavens, you rascals; kidnapping the grail war out of spite."[/b][/color] As he eased his stance, he relaxed his hand, his carbine vanishing into thin air as he did. [color=a6acb5][b]"But it would certainly be a waste not to make the most of it. Yes, I'll help you, boy."[/b][/color] He shifted to take a spot besides his master, standing at his flank with a pair of perceptive eyes. If nothing else, the grail war was going to be a unique one, and.. in some ways, he did sympathize with the young magi.

Naturally, due course proceeded. More servants arrived, more masters made their introductions, and each time Archer looked over not only the servants, but their masters. Quietly, he considered his first impressions on each one, occasionally pursing his lips or shifting his weight in thought. Every other time, he reminded himself that it didn't really matter - being more of a protest than a war, by the sounds of it. That is, until the final summoning lingered. As his master quietly glanced towards him, he offered an uncertain 'hmm' in response. 
[color=a6acb5][b]"I can't sense anything, at least..."[/b][/color] he explained, closing his eyes as he focused on his perception. All seemed well enough - seven servants, seven masters, everything should be in order-

[color=a6acb5][b]"Wait, master-!"[/b][/color] As Archer shouted his warning, the treeline came to life. From one end to the other, far and wide, several different hues of the rainbow spontaneously appeared before spewing towards them. As he lifted his right hand, his carbine appearing back between his fingers, he cocked his left to throw his master aside; fortunately, it appeared it wasn't needed, as his master was quick enough to respond of his own accord. Throughout the volley, he stood firmly behind his masters shield, training his aim on a nondescript prominent magus throughout. [color=a6acb5][b]"It appears he has a sense of dramatic timing about him..."[/b][/color] he commented, through a set of gritted teeth. It appeared that things wouldn't be that simple.

Archer looked to his master for instruction, and the instruction promptly came.
[color=a6acb5][b]"Leave it to me."[/b][/color] he confirmed simply, before erupting forward in a broad stride. To his right, he noted Berserker rushing to meet Saber, while Caster worked his magic and Rider stormed Saber's other flank. In raw numbers, they had the advantage, although it was a fools mistake to underestimate any Saber - let alone one with an assembly of elite magus at their back. After seizing a spot beneath the ramparts, Archer lifted his carbine to take aim. Berserker dashed and danced with Saber, making a direct shot difficult, where Archer briefly bided his time; until eventually, the opportunity presented itself. As if taking any other shot in the world, the sequence began: twist, burn, and with a cloud of smoke: a thunderous bang.

Archer wasn't particulary worried about the mages; not only was he a servant, but he had some - if minimal - magic resistance. It was when the masked man on the hill began to work, the very same man mentioned by his master, that he got worried. It was as the undead burst from the ground, assembling about the slaughtered fledgling magus, that a seed of horror grew in his gut. 
[color=a6acb5][b]"Abominations..."[/b][/color] Archer muttered, shifting his attention to a pair of skeletons before him: [color=a6acb5][b]"Par la grâce de Dieu, que ces âmes affligées trouvent la miséricorde..."[/b][/color] After sending a shot into each one in sequence, he shifted his aim for the necromancer himself: [color=a6acb5][b]"Accordez-moi le pouvoir de juger les méchants dans votre nom épineux."[/b][/color] With that, he fired once again, sending a shot for Ayondale himself: hoping to, if not remove the master of Saber early, stretch him thin enough to allow a better chance of retreat.

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[quote][b][color=6091e0]Location:[/color][/b] Urquhart Castle, Scotland.
[b][color=6091e0]Interacting with:[/color][/b] Berserker of Red [@MeteorD]; the other Masters of Red.
[b][color=6091e0]Magical energy:[/color][/b] 177 out of 180 → 147 out of 180.[/quote]
Sonja stood firm as the others began their way towards her. She cast a glance for her blind companion, concerned for her welfare, to find another was guiding her. Her own Berserker slammed into the enemy Saber, to the cast of sparks and fire alike, while both Rider, Archer and Caster engaged as their strengths would dictate. There was no doubt about it: it was a sheer defeat, but they might yet escape with their lives. For now - even as she snuck a glance at Ayondale, feeling wrath burning in the pit of her stomach - that was all that mattered. Some control was returning to them, so the odds were looking good-

Undead burst from the ground, taking up arms from their own corpses. Sonja, eyes initially widening in some form of fear, let out an irritated 'tch'. While the undead were surely no match for a servant, they may very well be a match for a fleeing magus. Pulling back Berserker so early would give Saber room to breathe, so that was out of the question. In this moment, she concluded the time for preserving Od was over. As she pushed up her left sleeve, her command seal coming into plain view, she steeled her expression and pressed herself up against the archway that was her escape route.
[b][color=6091e0][i]"Nepažįsti mano vardo, bet mano darbų, nes tai darbai, kuriuos sukursime šiandien:"[/i][/color][/b]

As Sonja began her incantation, she lifted her left arm and presented her palm towards the battlefield. Not unlike the summoning, she lifted her other hand to brace, but this time a light poked out from the cuff of her pushed up sleeve: her family crest, thrumming with a surge of Od. 
[b][color=6091e0][i]"Prieš mane stovi priešas, ir aš nekaltuosi vieni."[/i][/color][/b]
She muttered the words in almost native Lithuanian, gently twisting her wrist and flexing her fingers as she went. Following on from her fingers, dull blue twirls of Od formed a circle, bearing an aged crest in its center. 
[b][color=6091e0][i]"Mano girliandos valia ir apribojimai duok man grifono galią. Laikyk mano valią ir nugalėk mano priešus, ir tai žinau, kad tu esi didis darbas."[/i][/color][/b]

The circle created by Sonja's fingers abruptly warped into a ball, not unlike an odd-cut diamond. Abruptly, it expanded in size - as if something was trying to burst out of it, as if it was an egg containing a creature ten times its size - before it expanded again, and yet a third time. Conclusively, with a brilliant shatter, a beast erupted forward: a greater familiar in the shape of a griffin, spreading its wings wide and rearing its head up. After quickly coming to its senses, it began a routine of dashing and speeding about the field in its mindless pursuit of its primal directives: kill the undead, protect the other students, and evade the mages attacks.

[b][color=6091e0]"Over here, quickly! Berserker, begin a fighting retreat! We're all leaving!"[/color][/b] Sonja called to the others - both those coming towards her and to her servant, holding the front line. As she turned to take a few jogging steps, leading the way from her memory of the castle's layout, her thoughts briefly touched on her command seals. Dread began to settle into the pit of her stomach: if Berserker had gone mad, she would surely have to use a command seal to pull him out. She tried not to think about it - to instead focus on the present, their immediate escape.