[center][img]http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/34100000/Clay-pokemon-clay-34119370-500-476.png[/img][/center] [h3][center]Clay Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmadomeestate, Rich District[/center][/h3] Here in the frigid snowy plains of Montana, lives a man who practically owns everything. A hedonistic visionary who cultivate the land into his own profit and has his own private mansion scattered across almost everything the light touches. This is the tale of the magus known as 'the Prospector' and how he got himself tangled in this version of the holy grail war: The sound of heavy machinery drilling, The sound of buzzsaws humming, The sound of hammers repeatedly pounding upon the freshly cut lumbers from the forest of the plains, multiple underpaid workers grudgingly starting their day off early this morning just to do construction labor in order to put some little food on their plate despite the frigid conditions here in Montana. This is truly despicable. What kind of an inconsiderate money-hungry industrialist would force these people to do this kind of things at a moments notice, just to benefit in reforming his own land from their ill-payed hard labor? [color=fff200]"Gawd, I love the smell of money in the morning" [/color]A plump old man grins mischievously, sniffing the fresh country air, adjusting his expensive belt buckle around his waist and watches from the luxury of his mansion's windows, admiring the view of his latest real estate project here in the rich district. [b]"Here's the finest fresh brew coffee you order sir"[/b] A well-dressed butler knocks and enters his room. Clay takes a sip and didn't even bother to look or acknowledge at his manservant. Clearly, he was so fixated in this own world and vividly imagining on what his future project would be as he continues to stare at his window. He can only see dollar signs in his eyes right about now. [b]"Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it appears to be some reports of an incident on the museum early this morning"[/b] [color=fff200]"Say what boy!? Also, this taste like shit.. you're fired!" [/color]Clay violently spat out his coffee. [b]"uhh.. Sir about the museum?"[/b] [color=fff200]"Right, right..good call, I've changed my mind, you're hired!"[/color] he waves his hand.[color=fff200]"just cover it up for the time being. it's probably some wild deer broke in or something.. Don't wanna scare off the investors and tourist with something trivial as that."[/color] He scoffs. [b]"Uh.."[/b] [color=fff200]"Well, what are you waiting for BOY! i didn't hire you just to stand around! time is money!" [/color]He exclaims loud, frightening the poor lad and nervously scoots away, slamming the door on his way out. As soon as the manservant left his office. Clay sighed and takes out several letters from his pocket. In his hand lies the letters of different investors, stamps with different international flags from which they came from various mage association around the world, this was truly confidential and for Clay's eyes only to see. The news spread fast around the world when the grail got stolen and was brought here in this very state. It seems the Prospector has received some foreign proposition outside the country, having an extra income is always welcome for the pockets of a businessman such as himself. Now the only question is, how deep will they go on their pockets? [color=fff200] "Just as though I was out, they pull me back in.."[/color] Clay deeply sighed. He's too old for participating in this shit. Luckily for him, his magecraft hasn't withered like his old age. It only gets better. A bounded field was set up around his property to keep those pesky mages and IRS people away from his own personal business. A smart marketing strategy as Clay would describe it. Now to perform the ritual inside the comfort of his luxurious library. A summoning circle was drawn and the setting was in order. [b]A piece of an unfinished manuscript[/b] was chosen out of the many catalysts his investors sends him. Was it the right choice? eh, can't say, Either way, Clay fancies his tunes from the past, old people then to gravitate towards the classics. [i]Let's get this over with, I have a business arrangement, gold mines to manage and a pedicure session later this noon. [/i] Clay adjusted his cowboy hat and steps forth towards the circle, extending his hand and begin his incantation. [i]What was it again?[/i] [color=fff200]"I-say.. i-say.. i-do declare, heed my prayers and answer my call, Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah magus of the throne I call upon thee..From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power, Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance! or something, c'mon, I don't got all day.." [/color] The old coot's half-ass incantation seems to be doing something as the circle reacts and shimmers. A mystical bright light blinds the room as Clay steps back and shielded his eyes. A magical red-hot symbol was suddenly imprinted on the old man's fist. When the smoke clears and everything was settled, An enigmatic figure emerges in the middle the circle. Summoning success? [color=fff200]"What in tarnation? Well.. Speak up [b]BOY[/b]"[/color] [@Scallop]