[center][h2][color=gold]In Another Time And Another Place[/color][/h2][/center]

[color=gold]"Hmm, this summoning ritual... silver, archdukes, stones, this is all worthless to me. Absolutely useless... I suppose I'll just have to draw one up from scratch then. What an inept man that director is, failing to even take into account my own foundation. This looks like it was copied and pasted from some German tome, completely wrong sphere of influence..."[/color] Sand scattered about the room, everything smelled of wet iron, his circuits itched as he looked upon his work. It was not home, but it would have to do. He looked over the circle one last time, his fingers wet and gritty as he rubbed the bloody sand onto his pants in a futile attempt to clean them. Nothing would ever clean those hands.

[color=gold]"If my research is correct, the words are meaningless. Any pretense of a ritual is merely for one's own peace of mind, if the grail deems me worthy then the Heroic Spirit will be summoned regardless of words or intent. I suppose those fools in the Clock Tower performed some grand spectacle, lots of bright flashing lights, many grand incantations from each of their respective spheres of influence, a waste of time."[/color] He gently set the monocle down onto the sand, taking a step back and activating his circuits. [color=gold]"Well, I suppose it's easy to get caught up in the mood. I may as well say something for you, oh great and grand Holy Grail."[/color]

[center][i][color=gold]"With the blessing of the Djinn
And the offering of blood on sand
I beseech thee
Bring me victory
Oh great and mighty Hero
May our enemies tremble
As though they have witnessed the fury
Of ten thousand Ifrit
Now come, Guardian of the Scale
Let us trample those who oppose us
And steal their very hearts[/color][/i][/center]

A wind whipped about the room, a veritable sandstorm cutting at his skin as he poured intent and mana into the circle. His arms outstretched to his sides, blood dripped freely from his body, yet it only fed the circle more and more as it began to shine with a grand crimson light. The eye of the storm slowly shrunk, condensing into a human form as the verse came to a close. Just like that, it was over. A young man stood before Asmar, a cocky grin on his lips as he considered the magus before him.

[center][color=royalblue][b]"Yeah, I think I have one last heist in me. Servant Assassin at your call, lets steal the show with style and pizzazz!"[/b][/color][/center]