[@SSW] [@Yankee] [@Gracefully] [h3][center]Team Rider[/center][/h3] [h2]A moment in the past...[/h2] “There are three rules that you must follow.” “First. I am not a strong magus. You will completely align with the orders of the Command Spell, for we cannot win otherwise. To waste their power is something that will lead to our defeat.” It was soon after Rider was summoned . “Second, I will be on the battlefield with you. This is merely out of necessity for I am not a strong master.” The words came with a clinical voice, hardly cheerful, cold. “Third. Do not expect great help from me.” He did not repeat the reason as to why the third time. It was simple enough, it was clear. I cannot win, so you will have to swear yourself as a blade for victory. You will have to fight with myself as a weight and shackle, for without that we cannot even fight to begin with. Some may have called it a self-deprecating self-evaluation, but it was spoken in a matter of fact way that came with objective observation and seasoned knowledge, almost dismissively of any potential ego that would have been related to the subject matter. Those were the first words he spoke in that theater as he was greeted by two. A man who did not even stand on the stage with him. A person (hero) who stood before him as a fellow starring role. [color=fff200]“Hello, Rider is it? It is nice to meet you.” The same voice, yet it was warmer. Hollow and yet warm all the same in comparison, for even if it wasn’t quite human… [/color] It was precisely because of that, that it wasn’t cold like the words of the frail magus. Beautiful, shining. Even if their faces were so similar... He was the same as the magus who hid as the director. Yet, to someone with the senses of a heroic spirit, let alone to someone who held the senses inherited from that mother… It was clear enough that it was not a human. Not that the magic layered upon him truly tried to hide that. The wrongness of a puppet simply was turned into a spotlight. It was only natural for him to be different, just like how Rider was different from humans to begin with. A hero was one that stood separate from normal man. [color=fff200]“My name is Roland.” [/color] A hand with no flesh, yet garved in flush and taut youthful skin reached out, offered with a smile. [color=fff200]“Will you not fight along with me?”[/color] The shadows of the theater focused around the two, or perhaps the darkness of the shadows already existed, with only the light of the two finally showing it to the world? “...In any case, I am your master.” called the man from the audience. “I will share with you my abilities which are few. However there are things I know, and if you are not educated then you will follow my word on the workings of the world and the mystery. Whether you are long for the world or not does not matter, Ghost Liner. Simply that we bring a fall to stars and crown them false.” A touch of bitterness… and the eagerness that such poison can bring finally filled his words, even if he himself did not notice. Ah, he was indeed human. “Shall we march to war?” The servant on the stage, Rider, looked from the contraption standing beside him to the man seated in the audience. So, this type of magus summoned him. Someone who, perhaps, yearned to be something they were not and lived by proxy? Or maybe just the paranoid type, as many were. Not only that, the demanding type. Right to the point. Rider smiled. [color=662d91]"Of course," he said, his voice smooth and light. "You can leave everything to me."[/color] Three rules, as Rider understood them: do not defy his master's orders, protect his master who will always be nearby, and finally to look after himself. That was fine. Compared to other heroes, Rider was good at following orders. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but it was a simple truth. His whole life he'd fulfilled the requests of others, up until... well. When Rider spoke it was with conviction. If there was a hint of anything else there, chagrin or otherwise, perhaps the magus sensed it but it was drowned out by confidence. His smile was as genuine as his words - the expression girlish, and nothing if not a little feral. Eager, but reserved. Rider flexed his hand. He thought that first impressions weren't everything, and spoke again. [color=662d91]"I'll give you everything you need to know about myself, and I will deliver us to victory. You don't have to worry about your partner being some rogue." [/color] He looked again to the thing on stage with his master's face. [color=662d91]"And this one?"[/color] “Roland. A puppet. Do you know of the legend of the Paladins? My family is that of a magus line that creates puppets and theater based upon their legends. He then is-” [color=fff200]“I may be but a creation, but my name and my role is that of Roland. Whether or not it is something that is given to me, it is a life and name I strive to live out fully. Perhaps to someone from the ancient age of the gods it might not seem so grand, but I do not believe I pale in intent to any hero of man at least.” [/color] A touch of humility, yet not to an extent that belittled himself. If he was believed in as the work of five centuries then he will carry himself as a hero fitting such a work. Acting as if he wasn't interrupted, the magus continued where he left off- “Roland is my representative. In truth he poses as me, and fulfills my role. So long as he is able to cover it he fulfills the need of being Roland, and being myself. Things that are not my concern yet demand my attention can be left to him. Anything that does not relate to proper research. Although both of our responsibilities will be different in this war. I have not come here to spend my time in this city idly after all.” [color=662d91]"Understood."[/color] Then this puppet was an extension of his master. Rider was not very familiar with this character's inspiration, knowing only the most vague of things that came with being summoned into this era. 'Roland,' his creation, seemed much more personable than the man himself, and that brought a small amount of amusement to Rider's face. It could be that his earlier thought was correct, and his master was a man with some deep seeded wish in his heart. Ah, of course that was true - for why else would he summon someone such as Rider to compete in this little war? Though this small knowledge about his master was endearing, the man in question seemed anything but. Rider glanced his master's way before he finally took Roland's hand, [color=662d91]"then Roland, master, let us begin."[/color] [h3]Present Time District V[/h3] The aching burn of the seals, the presence of another servant. Both were clear indicators that another participant was close. The two walked together, even as puppets moved forth, hiding away, and otherwise moving into position in intercepting locations. Roland in this case stayed behind, a trump card to be hidden later, a hero to be shown another time. A bit of subterfuge. Present the weak magus, and then present the puppet that was him another time. Normally revealing himself would be something he wasn’t keen on, but the reality was that he required proximity to his servant for the sake of their connection. “Water carries the flow, it brings, or rather illuminates change. You can figure out the shift of the moon and stars from the water, and reflect the color of the sky upon it. The change of water is in truth the change of the world around it… He offered no polite smile even as he raised a hand towards the famed river. “Then battle will paint it red. Magical Energy will cause it to swirl and run like the fury of battle. Yet ultimately we have no true advantage with it, and it is harder to avoid attention there, harder to break away. The town is better to fight in. Most heroes will stay their hand slightly if it will spare bystanders, correct? Then we will evaluate them from that, and utilize such a weakness.” His hands, surprisingly slender were covered now in jagged claws, adorn by a twisted cross. Ash Locks, a weapon of the church. Rider was shown the curious process of taking pages from the book that was in this day and age, considered the standard and image of sacredness, and applying them to his limbs to transform them into weapons. “I trust you have no objections.” he remarked as mana strings, hardly noticeable by most, but perhaps in Rider’s awareness rose to connect to a gastly figure, slightly floating from the ground, tattered and clawed apart legs becoming a ghost-like skirt of tattered cloth. The shadow of the magus rose before fading away, replaced by the puppet that took its place as the director’s shadow. He hoped that his enemy would have the good sense to repel those who would pry and watch matters that were out of their world. After all, to someone like him preparing a bounded field along those lines was beyond his ability to do in short notice in a normal space. “I am weak. But that does not mean I am useless… Not yet, anyway." But we'll see how far that carries him. He took that thought into mind as out of his sleeves came a strange thin blade. A strange, awkward throwing blade that was a heavy point that he held in his knuckles. [color=ed1c24][b]"Fuir les aveugles"[/b][/color] It flew, propelled like a bullet into the sky before it burst into a sparking show of noise and light. A spell to scare those who knew not of the world beyond their lives, one to scare those who had no business into hiding and to close their eyes. A very basic thing. He leaned across the side of a building to rest himself. He would need this small moment for what was to come.