@VitaVitaAR@Cu Chulainn@Raineh Daze I have not posted yet because i have been working since yesterday. Today and tomorrow i also have work. If i can get in a post during this time, i shall do my best. If not, i will be getting one out here Sunday. :)
@VitaVitaAR@Feyblue I do wonder, though, if Hasabe and Mira will run into each other. Really, my curiosity is what Saber would think about meeting another...Saber?
Ah, and is it possible to use Master's clairvoyance to read Not!Hanuman's parameters in this RP? Tried to have Elisabeth do it in my post.
lightcoral = thinking/mental communication with servant
As the golden-eyed servant looked her over, she too looked the over, using her Master's clairvoyance to scan him for his parameters while doing her best to keep friendly and polite in her mannerisms and tone. It was an odd situation to have an alliance proposed to her by a servant first, of all things, but he seemed to be of the good sort...albeit she felt a sort of mischief about him as well. Or perhaps that was the monkey-like aspects of this servant coming into play in her mind. Still, it was a thought, and it was a Holy Grail War as well, so the pros and cons of a possibly more physical servant allying with her were obvious....just like the possible drawbacks were as well. She did not want to make an ally, only to get back-stabbed if they went after her little Jack. And if they did that...she would not be much willing to forgive them for killing Jack. The Holy Grail War wouldn't matter to her at that venture, if she lost her little girl in such a manner.
Yet, the master of this servant themselves was seemingly predictable in part for an Association Mage. An Enforcer, a thing of note, and wanting to open a path to the Root as so many magi sought to do. The seeming air of experience about and the height of this woman aside, it was a viable alliance...if she could keep this woman convinced she was seeking the Root as well, or something of the sort to keep her good opinions. Really, she wasn't sure if their goals clashes to some extent. For her real goal now was...well, look at Elizabeth's own servant and it was obvious, wasn't it? At least if one was able to think on the matter for a bit. A sterotype mage might not understand, really, but that also perhaps depended on things as well.
"Haha!" the master of Assassin said, a peal of laughter coming out at the situation and how quickly it had turned into a seemingly good direction for perhaps both sides. It was odd, and caution would still be needed on her part without a doubt, but perhaps this could become a good arrangement, taking the Berserker's hand and shaking it firmly and honestly with a slightly wider smile than before on her own face, "Perhaps we could enter into an alliance in this war, play to each other's strengths to take down our enemies and such. Ah. pardon me for the laugh, i did not actually expect this sort of situation to arise, really. But however this war goes down, i will not go down without fighting to my last breath if anyone comes after me."
"But first, perhaps i can step to the side and allow the two of you to speak with our dear moderator here, as i think we both came here to do the same thing, really," Elizabeth said, before politely stepping to the side to open up the path for the two new arrivals. After all, they had likely come here to do the same as she had: to introduce themselves to the moderator and affirm their status as master and servant.
With that the woman gave a friendly wink to Johanna and Berserker, keeping upbeat despite the situation's possible awkwardness.
lightblue = thinking/mental communication with master
To be the servant of Wasabi was suffering.
The female servant raised an eyebrow as the letter was read aloud, indicating that some form of mage had been looking out for this utterly clueless kid when it came to the realm of magecraft. Or at least, looking to ensure he entered the Holy Grail War in some manner. It was hard to decide whether this mysterious mage, which her master felt was his birth father possibly, wanted to get this kid killed, use him to try to get the grail out of desperation, or was in some strange method trying to reach out to him. Whatever the case, she felt no good will towards whoever it was, regardless of the circumstances. To guide and perhaps try to trick a young man, an untrained mage at that, to summon a servant and enter an inevitable death match was a cruel thing no matter what the reasoning was for it. That was her simple outlook on the matter, and it was most likely not going to change either.
As much as she nagged and talked to her master...heavens, Hasabe was far less than prepared for any of this. It had been a miracle to drill in what she had been able to within a week thus far into his head. But in the end, it was for this blasted idiot's survival. Sure, she would fight to secure the Grail for him....but her primary concern was this kid's survival in something he had no clue of getting involved with. Even a "faker" like her could have the capacity to perform a task such as that for the time being....until the war was finally over. But at least this boy was better than her own son that had been around in life. A lot better behaved, first of all.
Though noting the shattered and ruined relic on the floor, it wasn't much for her to garner a guess at who it was aimed to summon. An honestly, the boy's benefactor didn't know he had already summoned earlier anyways. What a waste, especially with who could have been summoned. Then again, they were probably an asshole of a servant, anyways. So good riddance.
"Whatever the relic was, just keep it tucked away for safekeeping so no one else tries to take it from the trash and get any ideas themselves. Then we can just burn the blasted thing after all of this is over," the female servant said, following near her master as he went about to get the proper supplies and clean up the mess, maintaining her usual demeanor in the process, "But speaking of the letter's contents, this 'benefactor' of yours has a good point. If we don't present ourselves to the Overseer of this Grail War, likely some Church representative on the neutral grounds at the local church here, then we might be in trouble when we are discovered. Whoever the Moderator is as well could explain more of the basics of this conflict as well, to be frank."
However, the female servant did something a bit strange for her behavior since she had met Hasabe. She bit her lip for a minute, as if thinking of what to say next to the boy. Trying to drill information and not give him too much in case he had his mind read by a mage was a hard thing to do. Yet at the same time, if they were both not well-informed enough it would be a potentially good thing later. Blast the gods and their ways to twist fate for their amusement. Still, she garnered that this information was more necessary to tell than to not tell either.
"But i have something to tell you, as well, which is important to know for your sake when we run into other masters and servants," the warrior said, her tone taking on a more serious note that abandoned the nagging in a manner that was notably different than her normal, her eyse boring into Hasabe's head as she spoke, hoping for the boy to actually listen to her words this time as well, though more seriously than the average, "I already noted to you things like the class system, how we can communicate mentally with each other, and the like. Including that i am 'strange' for a servant."
"Actually, on that note....i am an 'extra' servant in this Grail War. That means, under proper circumstances, i should never have been summoned. However, the Grail chose to respond to your less-than-proper ritual, meaning i came into being. So out there now i another Saber-class servant, the proper one, who will have a few advantages over me. As for what those are, i will not speak them now, to avoid putting us in greater danger for the time being."
"So when we meet the moderator, and we need to in order to avoid being singled out in a bad manner in this, we need to introduce me as just 'Saber' when asked. Then after we try to distance ourselves from that place as quickly as we can after we are finished, in case the actual 'Saber' of this war arrives there as well. Then hopefully we will at least be good by the moderator, though the opposing 'Saber' might not be too keen on knowing that there are two of us in this conflict."
As Morgan embraced her so suddenly and outright, the fey-blooded wizard at first could only blink in sheer surprise. It has been....heavens, thousand of years perhaps since he had been alive. At least, that was as much as she could guess after the things that had happened thus far.
She had woken up, sitting against a cherry tree, and a lot of people had been staring at her as if they had seen a ghost. Perhaps she was one, because as she remembered things...albeit mostly fuzzily at the end...having died in her home in the small village she had retired to very long ago. She had died, removing the spell that had kept her alive for 175 years by her calculations. And yet she was not in that home now, this was surely no the afterlife, and she was not dead at that. More so, the blasted tree she had been leaning against began talking to her of all things, asking if she was all right and if she felt odd at all. As if such a thing was normal by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, at the same time she felt a familiarity with the talking plant. She could feel the potent magical energies flowing through it, as if it had been enriched with magic for millennia at that.
Then one person had shouted about someone napping against the tree. Another had shouted back about her being some kind of "legendary hero" who had returned. Even as she has slowly regained her wits and her senses, the people in this seemingly vibrant town square around the tree began to argue and shout. It was all...so confusing, to be frank about the matter. Words like "wizard" and "crook" being thrown about, through the tree had been helpful enough to lift her back onto her feet in the course of things. Really, it was the firs thing that seemed trustworthy, though eventually by the time she had regained herself completely it had been too late to really ask anything or speak a word. Two armed guard had stomped in, silencing the crowd and seizing her away from the tree....despite its protests.
Could a tree protest too much? Not that it appreciated having to be shrugged off while trying to pull her back towards it.
The guards had then roughly told Nimue she was breaking a commandment of the queen of Vraweth. Vraweth? Had another nation taken over Camelot over the years, perhaps? Or had the nation come from it? History had always been such a subject to try to understand, one kingdom and place overtaking another as time went on. And right now she was still very confused about thing, but making educated guesses about it all at the very least.
But she had simply gone along with things, not resisting the guards as they rather forcefully and somewhat brutishly escorted her quite a ways. It was a familiar direction to her, but for a bit she could not pin it really. However, eventually they came upon a castle, a great citadel that sat with a familiar glory as compared to Camelot of old. Through the front gate she had been led, past guard and people who looked upon her strangely or with a look of disgust, before finally entering what seemed to be the throne room. And then...well, this had happened. She had seen the familiar glow of Excalibur, the redheaded figure that she thought would never be seen alive again, and the familiar glow of a certain throne the queen sat upon.
"M-Morgan...by the gods....i.......what..... i think by some providence someone has brought us back to life," the fey-blooded wizard exclaimed, Nimue blushing for a moment and stuttering with her continued surprise, before slowly beginning to get her wits about her again, her mind beginning to once more process the things she had seen and such, though her eyes stayed locked into the lovely green of Morgan's own eyes, "But...how long has it been? By Vis, i have missed you though. It was so many years after you died until i...finally met my own end."
What in the name of the Pendragon family was going on in this place?!
However, somewhere far away, deep in a cave located away from the habitation of humans...something began to stir. And by stir, it was more like a great, black colored dragon arising from underneath a pile of gold and jewels and valuable things that had been stored here for millenaia. Heavens, it had been a long time since he had awoken, but right now he had begun to arise, to stretch his great and monstrously sized head, to stretch his great limbs and terrible claws....for a good reason.
"Damned whatever deities or whoever else the hell just did that," the dragon muttered to himself, his booming and tremendous voice echoing in the cavern, "Well, whatever happened someone or something just brought my master to life....probably. Bloody hell, i thought i was done with this stuff....but i had better go see what in hells Nimue had managed to get into this time. Though i better not have to kill another group of bandits after this...but if its a necromancer i'll have a few choice flames for them as well for disrupting me like this..."
Not appearing very happy, though with a flicker of concern behind his vivid and frightening eyes, the great dragon known as Aldebrecht began to lumber his way to the entrance of his domain. As terrible as he also sounded, however, the concern for what had just happened when his mental link with his supposedly-dead master from 12,000 years ago had simply been awoken again out of nowhere.....well, spoke for itself. Not that his attempt to go investigate would prove fruitful in a little while when he would get close to his destination...
The masterful quill has written down many a story with ink, though one tale of old has become lost to the annals of time.
In the hero's case, his story originates from not at the dawn of time, but from the time his people first learned to read and write down their stories.
Little does humanity know what kind of power lies within their written texts and not in their memories, tales written down to record their past and the peoples who inhabited it...the heroes whose names became cemented into the primitive legends of the past. And yet this hero would come into legend because of what he wrote...for what he did.
Xiv was a man among his tribe who could write very well among his primitive people, among the tribe that he so lived within. His writing was consistent, vivid, and full of wonder, such that those who read it among his people felt like they came alive when reading from it. His words seemed to draw up vivid pictures in their minds, the sounds of battle, the roar of creatures, among other things he wrote of.
His own powers of spinning tales and stories were next to none in the very beginning, among his own peoples. Many knew that only well-written words, stories, and tales would never make a world real, or lead to real good occurring on their lonesome. For what is good without evil? Thus this writing and reading among the people could be both used for good and evil.
So his people created vile words about him, horrific heresies written down by the same quill that had once spun beautiful stories among them at first. What good words he himself could spin, others wrote of evil and vile thing about him that were not truth.
In doing so, he desired to stem this tide of evil and terrible writing, introducing to his people a new word: "Love". And at the same time, this man seized power among his people, becoming the "Law" among his people to try to help direct and guide them.
And yet that word he sought to embody among his people, "Law", would come to be his downfall after five years. After that, the elders of the village decided that, to get rid of this man who taught the people writing and sought to lead them, would become more than a man. He would be turned into a sacrifice to the gods, to placate them for their "supposed" anger at his actions. Thus the elderly sages and leaders of the village came together, and granting him tools and weapons among the best quality. Such was how sacrifices to the gods were treated, to be given the best in preparation for their untimely death. They planned on casting him down a cliff, as had been the village's tradition, so that they themselves would remain in control of the village and its people rather than him. For otherwise, the people would rebel against him being killed. For the people loved their younger leader over the elders.
Under the guise of it being an offering to the gods, they told him as they had told others they has sacrificed in the past that a serpent would come and take him to the edge of the world. Indeed, he would be taken there to live with others like him, to be in the midst of the gods themselves. Though Xiv knew their true intentions for choosing him as a sacrifice, for he had heard these words being told to others before, and had seen them pushed from the cliff to naught but their death. He had seen them act this way before, and now knew just what they were after in the process. They sought to overthrow him.
Yet he could not disrespect this rite of sacrifice, which had been followed among his people for so very long. Indeed, he willing allowed himself to be cast down willingly regardless of knowing the truth, cast down by his people to what would be a certain death. And yet, he did not die. At the bottom of the great cliff he lied wounded, but this time not dead. Even more so, a snake did appear and bit him on the ankle, flowing through his system as if to taunt his miraculous survival. Grabbing unto the snake and crawling back up the cliff, he kept the gear he had been given by the elders before this, not seeking to return that which had been granted to him before his death. Yet despite this, the snake's venom made him fall asleep for a whole day as a result.
Upon waking up, Xiv felt a feeling surging through him, something he had never before experienced. He woke up feeling the very “the thrill of the hunt”, as it was called, piercing through his very being, and the desire to kill or be killed become very desirable to him. For the first time in his life he felt like this, as being on the brink of death for such a time had caused him great excitement in the process.
Afterwards Xiv walked back to the village he once loved, desiring to be among his people again...even if he was shunned for living, even if he was willing to die for their fears of having offended the gods with his survival. Only, his people were gone. The village he had led, protected, and sought to better with his actions had been destroyed overnight. All of the shiny colored stones that had been owned among his people, shining hues of emerald, ruby, and sapphire, were gone as were his entire people, an naught but death and destruction remained.
Ever since that day he’s was never the same, renaming himself "Xivaoc Quetez". After this time he vowed to avenge his people, write of his travels and actions, and would cement himself into the realms of myth. That much was certain. If he could scare others by simply granting them the gift of writing of myths and legend, so much that his own people's elders would seek to kill him, then how much more terrifying would it be if these myths be wrote of became true. How much more his enemies would tremble before him when the written word came to haunt them.
So he wrote of his own life, to try to cement them into the memories of others, portraying himself as though he was a fearsome warrior, blessed by powers beyond this world. He spread these words from village to village, from people to people, even as those in the isolated and cordoned-off area of the world he came from continued to advance.
He also too stayed to the ways of old, the ways that had guided his people for many generations over the centuries. He would hunt among the animals in the wilds. He would do his best to survive, even against all the forces nature and people threw in his path. He tracked down the people who took his family, and took some of the shin stones they had stolen from his people back from them. He was stealthy in the night to travel past the guards unnoticed, moving like the jaguar in the forest. He kept calm the dogs set to guard the people's camp back to sleep, and soothed the people's horses to make sure they did not spook and made sounds of fear that would alert the enemies of his presence.
After freeing those among his people who had been kept prisoner within the camp of the enemy, and freeing them back into the world, he abandoned them once more as they had abandoned him. He left them with their illiterate elderly who has sought to kill him, and left them too with a stone tablet containing his myth etched into its surface...all according to the words of the elderly who had led the people to their doom. He then, before the sun had risen and the night faded away, placed another tablet into the enemy camp with his own written account of the events he had performed among them during the night in their camp. This was not as a hint to take them on again, but as a warning, that he could have killed them all in their very sleep, but had instead spared them from the same fate his people had once tried to force upon him by sacrifice.
He left his people the people in the enemy camp his weapons, shield, cloak and even his mask. Though the enemies couldn’t do anything with it, not knowing their usage, they took it home. And many years later, they opened a museum that spoke of his legend and what he had done to free his ungrateful people from captivity. Ultimately, however, his life ended far different than the myths he had etched into those stone tablet told of. An infectious leech from a jungle river got the better of him, and this happened even the hero died in his favorite writing spot......a waterfall pool that was in the heart of the jungle.
Years after he died, the two tablets, these documents that he had placed his tale upon became the source of a new conflict among scholars who debated who he was and what he was. Only when his corpse was eventually discovered did history grant people light to the truth. For at the time he had died, literally with him was a tablet of his true life that settled many disputes and debates of him among scholars. The tools he had were examined and enchanted during these times, by those who wished to respect his legend and person. His loincloth was enchanted to sustain one’s body beyond regular injury, and his cloak with the magic of teleportation and stealth. All of his weapons that were from wood originally were replaced by their mythical material counterparts they supposedly were. His mask was the most courageous piece of engineering in the artifacts department to try to bring his legend "alive" for those who would see, with it being able to completely transmute a live and moveable tree around a person for stealth, and allowing the wearer to understand dog and horse noises (as these were the most used at the time). Further, it was enchanted to give tour information to its wearer when they at important destinations mentioned in most museums. These things would be lost however, as when they recreated the myth, the various rivalries and mockeries of the texts caused a breakdown of opinion, which became so heated that the museum in which all of these things were stored was destroyed overnight itself. The government at the time told people to stay out of the rubble, and had to enforce it with police for fear of looting and such occurring within the rubble of the building.
Until finally, this people who had learned of hi story too passed away, and knowledge of Xivaoc's legend was also lost with them along with the items that had once been owned by him and enchanted by this other people. Where are the items, however, which were so kept since the time of Xivaoc? Only the cruel mistress of time could tell such a thing now...
@Raineh Daze I'm just going to assume Johanna's furred companion is there and visible for the time being, until her servant's situation is defined by @Cu Chulainn. Then i can change my post of "seeing" Johanna's servant as is or if needed, just to make to properly fit the situation if that is not the case.
lightcoral = thinking/mental communication with servant
The black-haired American woman cast her eyes back at the second voice that had chimed up, and upon turning a bit to look she saw the the silver-haired woman standing in the front of the church. Ah. Partly scarred face, two meters taller, dressed well, direct in her approach, blunt in her questions. It wasn't hard to guess she was a mage of large experience, perhaps older than she looked depending on the magecraft used and such. With how she was, it was easy to guess that this woman was as a member of the Magus Association, perhaps a honed but somewhat too confident individual like some members she had run into in the past. However, those members had thought her to be weak in magecraft and skill.
Oh, how wrong they had been.
But this was not the time to fight. Not the place to fight, either, unless she wanted death at the hands of this blue-haired Moderator of the Holy Grail War. Not that her sweet little Assassin couldn't gut the other master perhaps before this master's servant jumped in, but still. At any rate, what was also interesting was the furry individual with this woman who questioned her directly about things and addressed her as the "Master of Assassin" as if she had been here in time to listen to Elizabeth herself speak to this woman. A bit of spying on that person's part to be sure, but the appearance of this woman's servant was rather distinct. A tail, fur on the body, a bit short, it would be good to go to a library during the next day to look up some legends about such individuals.
Yet to be safe she needed to also communicate with her servant, to make sure they were't penalized for anything. She had seen Jack's attachment to her as well in return, and it made her worry that her servant would be on edge at this sudden arrival. It wasn't a hard thing to guess, at any rate, and she didn't want Jack in harm's way right now....much less the two of them in trouble with the blue-haired moderator.
'Jack, dear, it's ok right now. This person can't attack Mommy here without getting into a lot of trouble, but we can't fight here either. Make sure to only protect me if they attack, ok? I trust you. Just keep an eye on things for now~' the mage communicated to her servant in a calm, reassuring manner over their mental link.
"I would ask you the same, member of the Magus Association. But let's remember we are on neutral ground right now, and behave for our dear Moderator of the war here. I feel we can both at least be that civil right now," Elizabeth then proceeded to say aloud to Johanna, emanating a sense of calm and a modest level of confidence in her tone, all whilst seeming to put on polite airs for the things she said.
Xaltwind
Ryik
Renose
Joshua Tamashii
Azure Bubbles
Shazamrock
Savo
Tortoise
AtomicNut
Sigma