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Rostam





Rostam had followed the curious yellow chariot closely in spirit form as it crossed the city. It was a fascinating contraption, and he wondered if he would be able to pilot one himself at some point. His high rank in Riding allowed him to see how the machine was operated quite easily, and if he could but grasp the controls, he knew he should be able to use it without issue.

Ultimately though he knew it was useless. Only two mounts had ever been able to bear his tremendous weight, and besides the seat from which the taxi was operated was far to small for his frame, just as most everything in this queer day and age seemed to be.

Easily keeping pace with his Master, Rider waited for the car to depart before shimmering into existence beside the small conjurer. The building before them was some kind of temple (A Catholic Church his grail given knowledge whispered to him), and seemed to have a high vaulted roof, much to his delight.

Rostam frowned however, when the contents of the building became clearer to him. There were at least 3 Servants inside all at once, no- make that 2. He could feel a Servant departing as he spoke, shifting to spirit form and flying away.

Not to far away he could feel the power of an additional two Servants clashing with one another, and for a moment contemplated going to see what they were about. He hesitated however, and decided against it for now. It would not do to leave his Master alone here. Though his wound had closed and he no longer bled, a lingering weakness from his injury was still noticeable to him, making him less than eager for battle at the moment.

"Be aware Master, there are already two Servants here. It is time to meet some of your competitors I think."

Dematerializing once again to be able to fit through the door, Rostam followed his Master in, and reappeared on the other side behind her as she entered.

Towering over everyone else in the room Rostam put his hands on his hips and surveyed the assembled crowd with an stern expression.

"Hullo!" He rumbled. [color=f7941d]"We are here to announce ourselves! Attend to my Master Priest, for I am a favored Servant of Orz...." He trailed off, looking down at the floor of the church. "Why is there a pile of cardboard boxes on the floor?"



@Holy Grail @Moonlit Sonata
@Holy Grail @ConstantlyComic you guys should seriously check out the Badass of the Week website, its a great resource for Servant ideas. This website is basically nothing but a giant list of potential Servants. Most are from modern times, but about a third are either historical or mythical enough to fit the bill.

I learned about the Necromancer Skuld from him, as well as Yuknoom Ch'een II and a looooong list of others that I hope to play someday but probably will never get to.
@Holy Grail Well, she cant be due to Nasuverse shenanigans since they have her rolled up into Nursery Rhyme along with a few other fairy tale archetype girls.

Speaking of Fairy Tale girls, I always wanted to roll Vasilisa the Beautiful. Basically, a russian fairy tale girl that has a skull mounted on a stick, that shoots fireballs out of its eyes, along with a bunch of other whacky magic item shit.

@Holy Grail Alice never acted like this girl does at all. Also, shouldn't Alice be folded into the legend of Nursery Rhyme?
Weird... she looks like a fairy tale character but I honestly cant think of any that fit her mental profile. Enchantments or no.

We now seem to have two very strange offbeat Berserkers in the roll.
@Holy Grail Not at all, let's let Norton introduce himself and get a post or so in and then make our introduction.
Alex Bradan

The Church




The old astrologer contemplated Ruler answer, and found he didn't like it. Making his way over land with no Servant through a strange city to claim sanctuary at a stationary point which his pursuers would know ahead of time... it sounded more like a foxhunt for the Clocktower aristocrats than an opportunity to surrender. That Ruler thought it unlikely anyone would pursue him far beyond the city was enough to make his conclusion definitive.

Before Ruler could finish however, they were interrupted by the approach of a surge of prana, no doubt a Servant. Before he could react himself, Archer was already moving, sweeping him aside and away from the direct path of the oncoming Servant.

Alex dropped his cigaret, focused on the doors they had just entered through, and reached instinctively for his gun, incantations beginning to formulate themselves in his mind. Usually he could tell instinctively which would serve him better, the bullet or the Aria, but he realized with alarm that he wasn't really sure in this case. A gun would be useless against a fleshless spirit, but against something swirling so thickly with prana most of his spells would be nearly as inconsequential.

He began to contemplate some of his more nasty curses, unpleasant things which he rarely used, when suddenly the tension in the room was undercut by a soft knocking.

Not entirely convinced, with as much depression as was possible, Alex began to take further steps back into the pews, and to reinforce his legs.

Archer, if this gets ugly, be ready to go. Cover my retreat. If you can, aid Ruler, but don't make it a priority.



@Moonlit Sonata @Cu Chulainn
@Moonlit Sonata @Cu Chulainn sorry you guys, forgot to include your @'s in my post. I have posted for yall.
Alex Bradan

The Church




Alex shook his head slightly, the beginning of frustration starting to make itself known. He hated complications, and now it seemed the original premise of the tournament was a false advertisement. He briefly considered how this would affect his chances, and did not like the conclusions he reached. He had planned to hold out in an obscure corner of the city, using his boat to redeploy as necessary, and sending Archer out to harass and finish off Servants as the chance presented itself. Now though, apparently permanent alliances were on the table...

He didn't like it. Undoubtedly the affluent Clock Tower lords who most likely comprised the majority of the participants would now barter and negotiate their allegiances as was their wont. It was a market of expensive favors that he didn't have the resources to participate in, and besides, they would look down on a simple freelancer and most likely band together to edge him out of the war.

He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he reconsidered his chances. Before he had counted on such alliances forming, but had banked on the rule of one last standing on eventually forcing such allies to turn on each other in time. Now, there was no such incentive...

He cursed aloud softly, unable to prevent himself.

"I see." He said, turning back to Ruler and nodding neutrally. "Thank you for the heads up. Now, as I understand, if my Servant dies and I make it back here I can claim sanctuary?

It was a pertinent detail, though one he was unlikely to make use of. If the war went south for him, there was a far more simple exit stratagy he planned to make use of. In fact...

The first genuine question he had suddenly occurred to him. "Does this war have a geographic boundary? If I were to take a... car out of town say, and I kept driving till I reached the next city, would I still be valid mark? Or would the other Masters have free reign to hunt me down so long as I don't cross these doors? Would I be able to phone in a notification of my withdrawal?"




@Moonlit Sonata @Cu Chulainn
Walgrave




Walgrave watched with satisfaction as his spell again ripped into his target, proving once more that he had not yet lost his touch in battle. Now thought, it was time to step back. In his veins prana was warming his already upset body, causing ribbons of steam to escape from his mouth as he stepped back and observed the battle as a whole. The last charge of the wolves was being dealt with by his comrades, and he realized with some surprise that they seemed to have taken no casualties during the whole ordeal.

The aged magus stepped backwards, leaning against the nearby wall of the town they were protecting, and watched with sadistic curiosity as the finnal wolves aiming for the group were hit in the rear by his Rider Servant. He had entirely underestimated his own Servants capacity before, especially while mounted, and he quickly resolved to heal any and all injured the warrior might have taken from this fight.

Still though, irresistibly his eye wandered over to Siegfried, and he began to speculate how much more power might be had from gaining such a Servant. His own prana reserves were not exactly small. Could it even be possible to control both at once? A small nagging voice in the back of his head told him probably not, but a larger, much more seductive voice, the voice of the part of himself that was still flushed with victory from dispatching his wolf targets, assured him that he could manage it.

As the town guards came out to thank them Walgrave considered their injuries with a cynical eye. Moveing forward into the crowd he approached the man who seemed to be the leader and, supporting his action with a brief round of hypnotism, he placed his hands on the ears of the guardsman and muttered a few words.

A brief round of healing magecraft played over his fingers, targeting the worst of the damage inflicted by the supernatural howling of the wolves. It was a small spell, but it should help somewhat nonetheless. Hopefully these fools would hail them as miracle workers as well as saviors, cementing their influence over the town. Not that it wasn't true after a fashion.



Sinfjotli




Snarling in satisfaction Sinfjotli finished off the impaled wolf, pulling his spear from its guts and shoving the shaft through the vulnerable eye socket of the monster into its brain.

Behind him the last of the battle was winding to a close as the charge of the remaining wolves failed and they attempted to make a swift retreat.

Sinfjotli watched them go, waiting for the right moment, and then, with a move like a snake striking, he cast his spear with a powerful overhand throw at the retreating leader of the pack, hurtling insults and curses in the wolfish tongue as he did so. Then, beinding over his defeated foe, he drew his sword and began cutting off the head of the monster he had killed single handedly.

His bloodlust somewhat sated, he turned again, dragging his grisly trophy and trudging through the snow till he reached the front gate where the strang skald Servant was praising them roundly as heroes.

"I'm surprised you mystics all survived." These must all be dreadful sorceresses if they came away from the wolf pack unharmed. Carefully avoiding Seigfreid and Faust, Sinfjotli moved towards the strange Caster who called himself Shakespeare, trying to catch the attention of the beautiful spearwoman at the same time.

Making his way through the crowd, he approached Murdoch, quickly looking him over to make sure he was not injured, before he threw the wolf head down at his feet and smiled triumphantly at all around him.

"These townsfolk won't deny us their hospitality now. Come and have a drink with me all of you. You poet, can give us a song in the meantime, and tell us how you will record our victory."



@PKMNB0Y @Nanashi Ninanai @Flamelord
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