MrCellophane

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

Hello all. Been in and out of RPG for many a year, saw this and figured I'd give it a go. If that's OK?

A Certain Eucatastrophic Apocrypha (Index/Railgun Roleplay)

'Elaine of Westminster'

(Combat) Appearance

Name: York, Cordelia
Nicknames: Dame Elaine (Order/Public alias), 'Lioness of Westminster' (internal/propaganda nickname)
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Birthday: May 25th
Height: 181cm
Weight: 65kg (approx.)
Nationality: British

---

Personality: 'Lady Elaine' appears, at first glance, to be a fairly simple woman. In Cordela's role as acting Knight-Captain of the Order's Academy City Expedition, she is merciless (when called for), 'no-bull' and professional, ensuring that her Knights' assignments are diligently planned and commanded down to the letter, while also permitting her to change approaches on-the-fly. She gives more then enough leeway to her comrades to allow them to act on the battlefield as necessary, yet retains enough of an oversight to ensure that any strategy is on track and that any violation of the Knights' oaths and standards are - if necessary - summarily punished.

Personally, her facade as the 'Lioness of Westminster' belies a woman who is - for wont of better terms - both a fulfilment and (in part) a betrayal of that persona. Cordelia continually has to grapple with the differences of the teachings of the Church vs the reality all of Man lives in. She, thus, is sceptical - if not privately derisive - of those that become fanatical in their devotions and beliefs to the point where they believe that all others must die over the matter - be these fanatics the Archbishop of Canterbury or Alistair Crowley. Further, she is a voracious book-reader and can often be found in her spare time with a nose in a book, tome or treatise (fictional or non-fictional), usually curled up under her sleeping covers or with a 'cuppa' by her side.

Biography: Despite the nobility that her surname might otherwise imply (York), Cordelia retains no memory of her family or her childhood - whether her immediate family befell some catastrophe or otherwise couldn't raise her with them, she does not know. Instead, Cordelia was raised within an Anglican-run foster home for girls in the Midlands; her earliest memories of that place was the incredible warmth and kindness shown to her by one Sister Delacroix, the matron of the facility. Cordelia would undergo alternating routines of schooling, household chores and frequent down-times spent reading within the home's library, a lover of the myths and legends of the world. Through the Church, Cordelia would be both raised and educated, never knowing in her younger years the potential that lurked in her soul.

When she was 13, her home was visited by two armoured men, appearing as if they'd stepped out of one of the books she'd read. To both her and Delacroix's surprise, Cordelia would be selected for transfer to Caerleon (Wales), officially to 'continue her education'. It was this moment that she first heard the terms 'magic', 'magus' and of the Order of the Round Court of Caerleon, and how - as explained by the Knight who introduced himself as one 'Sir Lucan', Cordelia was a potential wielder of Magic - one who, though both unformed and unfamiliar she might be, could become an invaluable defender of Man and God.

At 18 - after five intense years of arduous training and indoctrination - Cordelia swore the Oaths of the Knight and, along with ten of her peers, was dubbed by the Order's Grand Master under the ancient eaves of Westminster Hall. Noted for her steadfast determination and her performance as a swordswoman, she would take on the vacant alias (and seat at 'court') of 'Lady Elaine'.

Such elation, however, would not last before Westminster would fall under attack, days later, by an unknown terrorist element. As the two-dozen attackers rampaged throughout the area and barricaded off Westminster Bridge, the Metropolitan Police would be forced to try and shift civilians out of the line of fire, as well as determine the group's motives. Elaine, however, would not wait and - granted reluctant permission from her superiors and the authorities - led a direct assault on the Bridge. The result was a one-sided massacre; outmatched by the sudden appearance of magic users and over-confident, the enemy was brutally cut down. Elaine saved their leader for last, forcing a confession out of the man as to the group's identifying name, before summarily putting him to the sword before a horrified BBC camera crew.

Two years after the incident, it appears that another lead in the now-cold-case has emerged; the Westminster attackers may or may not have received assistance from shadier parts of the so-called Academy City in Tokyo. The newly-accoladed 'Lioness of Westminster' has received orders to covertly travel - with another dozen of her kin - to the City and link up with the so-called '0th Parish'. From there, they are to covertly assist the Parish with their objectives in the City, while attempting to pick up where the police and Order were unable continue.

If there was one secular law of reality, though, that Elaine has come to learn as a Knight, it would have been Murphy's First Law: "If an operation can go wrong...."

---

School: -
Grade: -
Skills: While her foremost fields are in swordsmanship and Christian theological and scriptural knowledge, Cordelia also possesses fair athletic skill and can pick up other fields with time and training (usually fields that might become important to her work and can be learned and used in a short time; fields which require long-term investment would, naturally, come more difficult to her). On the subject of any cooking, however, the general consensus is "don't ask - oh dear God, just don't!"

Faction(s): Necessarius (association), Order of the Round Court of Caerleon ('officer')

Order of the Round Court of Caerleon

OVERVIEW

The Knightly Order of the Round Court of Caerleon (often rendered as simply 'the Order') is a sub-division of the wider Knights of England, who are tasked with ensuring that the objectives of the United Kingdom are carried out in relevant magical matters. Unlike their parent order, however, this sub-branch has a limited, direct influence with the Royal Family; they are often tasked with expeditionary operations and tasks outside of England's borders directly by the Crown, and (in turn) report directly to the monarch (rather then via the Church of England or even the House of Lords first). Furthermore, the Order has come to embrace multiple (non-ESP) aspects of the 'science' camp, vis a vie being a purely Magic-focused faction; the latter will be elaborated further.

FACTION PRINCIPLES

In terms of its principles, the Order seems - in many respects - to be a throwback to far earlier times. Their loyalty to England is absolute, while the defence of the Anglican faith is drilled into them through training and indoctrination. However, held above their loyalty to the Church are the ideals of chivalric behavioral standards, honour, implacability in the face of the worst of foes, and ensuring that the innocent are protected at all costs. The latter values - in conjunction with their flouting of ultra-orthodoxy regarding the arbitrary split between 'magic' and 'science' (out of practical necessity and the idiomatic reasoning of 'Does our Lord care whether His Will is done by magical flare or artificially-charged lightning bolt?') - frequently finds the Order dancing knife-edges away from being deemed apostate by Anglican hardliners back in Westminster Abbey, and by puritans in the other major strands of Christianity.

Because they draw heavily from the Arthurian cycle for inspiration (Arthur famously being 'one of Britain's own') and in the formation and continuity of this minor Order, the Caerleon Order has a barely-contained rivalry with other groups that co-opt Arthurian legends and artifacts, such as the infamous 13 Knights of Rome. To the Order, such appropriation borders on outright sacrilege by 'the wayward materialistic Romans'. Should it come to it, clashes between the Order and such elements are anticipated to become violent.

FACTION LEADERSHIP

While officially, the Order's leader is (nominally) the Crown of England, the reality of day-to-day operations and planning have meant that the Order retains a rank akin to a Knightly Order's Grand Master, who operates out of either Westminster Palace or the garrison of the Tower of London. Under alias, this Grand Master is named - depending on gender - as 'Lord Arthur' or 'Dame Guinevere'; real names are never used publicly and in official communiques from London.

However, recent developments in London have deprived the Caerleon Order of its senior leadership. Currently, the acting Knight-Commander (one 'Sir Calogrenant') has permitted the Academy City expedition to defer leadership to the head of Necessarius - on the provision that her orders and the Order's principles or objectives do not conflict.

COMPOSITION AND COMBAT DOCTRINE

Numbering just under a hundred strong, the Order typically draws its numbers from unorthodox Knights of England who, regardless, have conspicuously had displayed high moral standards, physical and magical ability, as well as promising recruits capable of projecting Magic or possess some form of knack in relevant (non-ESP) scientific fields. The Academy City expedition - numbering around a dozen - is forced to rely on watching for promising students among the faculty's number who show potential. Given their (as of yet) unofficial status, however, recruiting efforts have stalled in the face of the threat of Anti-Skill coming down hard on any interlopers within the lives of the City's charges.

Like the Knights of England, the Order predominantly operates in a close-combatant, magic use-heavy fighting doctrine; typically battering their foes with mace and warhammer, cutting with sword and axe, and scourging them with flail and spear. However, their preference for - and making use of - scientific advances within in arms, armour and technical areas of use permit the Order a degree of flexibility otherwise not found within their peers. Technical- and marksman-minded knights can bring both conventional and esoteric firepower to bear in support of their comrades, while specialists in medicine, armory maintenance and (rare) computational programming can allow the Order to overcome obstacles that cannot be 'brute-forced' (or would otherwise take too much time to do so).

ARMOUR AND UNIFORM

When anticipated to be within heavy fighting or conditions that would require heavy layers of protection, the Order dons an enscorced set of plate armour. Worn over a fire-resistant set of padding, forged with modern meteorology and inscribed with wards to mitigate possibly Magical (not physical) damage, this otherwise relatively uncomfortable protection usually can mean the slightest difference between an injured but alive Knight ... or one being sent homeward in a coffin. Apart from a Knight's personal emblem (or heraldry, should it be granted to worthy individuals by London), there are no identifying marks or emblems on the armour to betray their allegiance.

Order Plate Armour Example (Large Pic)

As an alternative for those Knights or specialists who prefer a far lighter, mobile or (or for the rarely-openly vain) 'stylish' battle dress, an alternative uniform is provided. Lacking similar emblems as their more heavily-armoured kin, this throwback to the 19th century allows a Knight far more more mobility, vision and flexibility wherever they may go, at the cost of drastically-reduced protection. Armour protection is usually limited to a few enscorced armour pieces, such as gorgets, vambraces and greaves.

Order (Feminine) Uniform Example (Large Pic)

---

Mage Name: Custos_539 "In place of His mortal children and for His redemption, I shall fight and die a thousand times."

Magical System: Arthurian Mythology

Description: A crystallisation of the founding principles of the Pendragon and the Round Court peerage's bloodlines, mixed with later ideals generated within early medieval times regarding soldierly and noble conduct, piety and devotion. When invoked, a practitioner seems to be granted divine favor or protection, as if blessed by God or some form of higher power. Its price, however, requires the practitioner to be held to the highest moral standards: never to fall into sin or vice and to always hold the Word of God as their highest authority. Any shred of unrepentant sin found in them at the moment of invocation will result in failure ... with potentially fatal consequences for the magus.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

1st Fuyuki (Royal Navy) Battle Squadron
Off the Coast

@Paradox Witch@floodtalon

At first, when the circle of magic appeared in the sky and her flotilla's shells were swallowed up in the abyss, Fisher was puzzled. When her Master began to invoke her oddly-named attack, however, the Servant's heart stopped. Breaking into a run from her spot on the bow, she began to charge for Dreadnought's citadel, shouting at the top of her lungs, "NO, MASTER!! WAIT!!"

The crash of Carly's 'magical cannon' threw her off; the Strategist was forced to throw her arms across her face, stopping her eyes from being blinded as a massive blast of energy tore from just in front of her fleet and streaked towards the coastline. Eventually, the cacophony of light and heat died down, allowing Fisher to lower her arms.

She really wish she hadn't, as her eyes fell on a smog and fire-covered section of coastline. Realising that the entire harbor had been gutted, Fisher's characteristic anger flared. In a trice, she was at her Master's side, hauling Carly off the deck by the shoulders and shaking her violently.

"You BITCH-BORN WHORE!!" the Fleet Admiral railed, her face blueing to near-violet. "Just what business did you have to override MY orders to the fleet?! And not only that, while I opted for a carefully planned bombardment of the outer harbour area, you went overkill and very well may have destroyed both our reinforcements and the ONLY foothold we have on this benighted land!! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't-"

"Admiral, ma'am!" A shout came from the main deck. The Ensign calling up to his commander was waving his peaked cap wildly and gesturing to the smoke-filled seaside. "Look!"

Trembling with barely kept in-check anger, Fisher set Carly down and stalked towards the edge of the bridge snatching up her binoculars. Panning across towards where the remains of the harbor were still burning, she caught the pinprick, winking glare of-

... A signal lamp?!

Two hulls suddenly burst out from the smog and Strategist heaved a sigh of relief; it seemed that the last two destroyers (as well as several dozen smog-covered and clearly banged-up, yet alive Marines) had all made it out. What she did not expect, however, was the third shape that loomed in the blackness beyond, punctuated by a menacing series of blasts from its horn and the signal it now flashed to 'Dreadnought':

HMS DREADNOUGHT, HMS QUEEN ELIZABETH REPORTING FOR DUTY.

HMS Queen Elizabeth

Fisher lowered her binoculars and looked back at Carly. "I owe you my most heartfelt apologies, Master," she added apologetically. "I won't doubt you again, but please run anything you need to do by me BEFORE you carry it out." She grinned wryly, beckoning to her. "Come now. We have a war to win and a world to save!"

A sentiment, then that it seemed the newest arrival - judging from the (late) telegram shoved into her hands by an out-of-breath rating, followed by Servant Tesla showing up out of the ether - shared. The Fleet Admiral appraised the situation that the Servant of Electricity explained, as well as the radio images that Tesla threw in as visual aids, before nodding sagely.

"Very well. Follow me to the chart-room in the citadel's lower deck; I want to hear and see everything you've just summarised in as much detail as possible." She nodded to Carly. "Mistress, it's best that you follow as well."

'It's safe to say, then,' she thought bitterly to herself as she cycled the bridge's hatch-wheel and responded to a Lieutenant's salute. 'That both the Grail and salvation for my homeland are now well and truly out of reach. Then again, if we all die here today and end up doing nothing to stop whatever evil's been unleashed here ... I suspect it would no longer matter anymore ...'

---

(a temp'd Odysseus post to be added here)

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

HMS Dreadnought
4 miles off the Coast of Fuyuki

@Paradox Witch@floodtalon

1st Fuyuki Battle Squadron Formation Diagram

Admiral Fisher's small fleet had just consolidated their position and had begun to form up further off the coast when the sounds of gunfire echoed from the shoreline. The Servant snapped her eyes landward and brought up her binoculars; other watch officers, likewise, did the same, searching for any sign of the interlopers.

The flare and spatter of muzzle-flash caught her eyes and the Servant felt her lips twist up in revulsion. The mysterious trio had progressed far faster then she anticipated and were, even now, showing little signs of slowing down. Despite many of the Marines maintaining their firing lines in the buildings and thoroughfares - placing well-aimed Lee-Enfield rifle and Lewis and Vickers machine-gun fire on-target - the enemy showed little sign of being wounded. One Marine jumped from a sandbagged firing line his section was ensconced behind, bayonet fixed to his Mk. I SLR, and charged one of the creatures. Though the blade struck home, the creature didn't appear to have been wounded; the unfortunate Englishman was now on the receiving end of potentially being torn to pieces.

Strategist lowered her glasses and turned away from the engagement, her eyes momentarily downcast. She hated this; she knew that in war, she'd have to make calls that would result in men being sent to their deaths, but still, she hated having to make such a call. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned her mind back to the grisly task at hand.

"CTN Bacon!" Fisher called to her 2IC. "Signal to all ships: 'Engage at will'!"

As Strategist's order rang out across inter-ship Morse transmitters and via 'Dreadnought's signal lamps, the fleet - continuing to sail at reduced speed West along the coast - acted. The screening destroyers readied their two-apiece 4-inch and twin 12-pounder guns, while the Invincible adjusted its main guns' elevation. All of them would be shelling the outer Harbour area; at best, it was hoped that they could slow the oncoming Laeus' and allow the last of the ship-building by the docks' piers to be completed - not, however, without cost. The submarine E21 lurked at periscope depth beneath the darkened waters nearby, ready to surface and add its small compliment of surface firepower (or to evacuate anyone stranded on land) when called for.

Dreadnought, however, had trained its broadside elsewhere; acting on earlier intelligence, Fisher had deduced that the co-ordinates Tesla had supplied indicated that either the source of this infestation - or other survivors - had been gathered at those coordinates. As such, she ordered Dreadnought to drop a continuing salvo of 12-inch High Explosive shells away from that position - if pulled off, this will likely take the pressure off anyone fighting in the area.

'At least,' she reflected as she took her leave from the bridge, 'That is the theory.'

Arriving on the bow deck and perched by the jack's unadorned pole, the Admiral stood at ease and placed her gloved hands behind her back as her eyes fell on Fuyuki. She quietly surveyed the all-but-condemned city - briefly wondering to herself if this was how the gods of war felt and saw Man when the latter flailed at itself in their self-destructive throes - before she puffed up her chest.

"FOR KING, COUNTRY AND THE PEOPLE OF FUYUKI, COMMENCE FIRING!!"

Fisher remained unfazed at the thunder-claps and heat waves eminating meters behind her back, as for the second time in that hellish week in Fuyuki's history...

The sky above the Sea of Japan shattered.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Bridge - 'HMS Dreadnought'
Off the Coast

@Paradox Witch

As the fitted-out keel of HMS Hydra hit the waves, propellers kicking up spray as the newly-completed destroyer urgently began to back out of the Harbor, Strategist felt her hands tighten around her binoculars. For several minutes, every officer had been at their stations, each gun trained landward ... waiting for this oncoming enemy.

Yet, so far, no word, no rustle in any nearby treeline or even the sound of gunfire from the stood-ready Marines landward. Just WHAT was their enemy playing at?!

"Ma'am," The voice of a rating snapped the Admiral out of her fuming and she lowered her glasses. "The last signal we recieved landward. From a 'Servant Nikola Tesla'."

The Admiral snatched the wireless transcript and, frowning, hurriedly read over the typed-out message:

FROM: Servant Nikola Tesla, Class Archer

TO: C. in C. HMS 'DREADNOUGHT' - No. 1 FUYUKI BATTLE SQUADRON, R.N.

Message received. Will coordinate via Frequency Y if artillery is required. Enemy is several hundred combatants, believed to be Heroic Spirit level. Will keep you updated, do not fire on Lat. 47.9 N., Long 4 35 E.

Current status of Pelion's Pub/Unknown Rock Dome is unclear, primary threat may be being held back. May be building power. Wait for update before firing on those coordinates. We must make sure nothing goes wrong, lest we end the world.

Your service is appreciated.

END.

Strategist nodded, biting her lower lip before passing the missive back to the Petty Officer. "Pass the word to the gun-plotting room; have the fleet adjust our firing plans for this exception ... As well for our now many-fold foe." Turning her scowling eyes back to the horizon, she didn't acknowledge the officer's salute, or the clamp of feet against the bridge's deck as he disappeared below.

"Trouble, ma'am?" CTN Bacon inquired by Strategist's side, his eyes glued to the rear of his binoculars.
"An apocalypse's worth, if that last communique is right." Strategist replied. "I only hope we're up to the mark, intelligence or not. We have to be."

She turned to the recently-arrived Carley, her eyes reflecting momentary sorrow at their dilemma, before she nodded in apology. "I ... I normally am not one for big rallying speeches." She snorted in self-loathing. "Actually, I'm not good at much outside of the Navy and Empire I've known and loved. But, if this somehow goes keel-up and we don't make it out of here alive ..."

The Servant leaned one hand on the pommel of her cutlass, extending the other glove-covered hand to Carley. "Know that I - Fleet Admiral of the Royal Navy Johanna Arburthnot Fisher - have been deeply honored to have been both your sword and your Servant. And come what may, the Navy - my Navy - will fight to the last round and until the last keel is claimed by the depths."

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Harbour

Throughout her long career within (what she considered) the finest Navy on this Earth, Strategist had obtained a 'gut feeling' on many an occasion over any action that'd need to be taken; 'hunches' over the intent of an enemy's course of action, or when she felt or knew she was taking the correct course. She was no Caster or magician, granted, but more oftne then not, such 'calls' have salvaged her crews and ships from danger.

Now was one of those times.

Rounding on her booted heels, she cupped her gloved hands to her mouth and screamed from her spot from the pier across to the berths, "Get those destroyers finished and launched! ON! THE! DOUBLE!"

Striding back into the frantic activity that was kicked up within the docks, she dodged scattering press-ganged Marines and crewmen as they struggled to finish outfitting their assigned ships, located her nominated 'foreman' and snatched a trio of rolled up plans the Marine had carried in the crook of his arm, rapidly unrolling and consulting the blueprints she had drafted.

"No!" she snarled, dumping the first plan onto the ground (depicting what appeared to be a pair of modified civilian ships) before she took up the second set of plans. "No! This is NOT what we need right now!" she growled again; another set of plans - with the label of 'HMS Ark Royal' - were tossed aside.

She settled on the third set of plans, her amber-irised eyes scanning over the linework and scribbled mathmaticss, before passing the plans back. "Alright, we're going with this design. Use the last pair of cargo ships as your basis and whatever we have left stored in Warehouse 7. I need those destroyers as soon as possible and Model 0409 seaworthy and ready for battle! We have less then an hour before it's all over for us! Now GO!"

Without a further word of explanation, Strategist dematerialised and left the harbour behind her, returning to her ship. Behind her, workers prised the hanger-like doors of Warehouse 7 open and began to haul out a series of rifled metal cylindrical barrels.

Battleship gun barrels ...

---

HMS 'Dreadnought' - Off the Coast

Between the call to action stations and Strategist's incessant berating of her officers to 'wake the hell up!', 'Dreadnought's prior peaceful vigil had been suddenly thrown into controlled chaos. Strategist hadn't spared a second from either herself or her senior staff, hounding them all between the bridge and the chart room. She hastily outlined a battle formation and battle-plan to them, explaining that there was 'something' landward - that something or someONE had thrown the War into chaos and - for all she knew - could end up threatening their fleet!

Even if her gut was wrong, Strategist was not prepared to take any chances for her or her Master.

Dismissing the officers, she got on the 'horn'. "Bridge, Chartroom. Send a rating to collect Miss Carly-Beth and bring her to the bridge. Tell her that the fleet is now at battle-readiness and I'll be needing whatever masks or skills she has available."

"Understood, ma'am, but what do I tell her if she asks why?"

Strategist huffed in annoyance; in her haste, she'd failed to let her Master know what had been going on, or why. "Tell her, for now, that I have a very ominous feeling something's just gone horribly wrong landward. I'll elaborate on her arrival; I'll be in the wireless room for now and will return to the bridge in the next few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am."

Slapping the receiver back in place, Strategist darted off towards the wireless room, scribbling down a reasonably-sized message that she intended to transmit over the Service Mark. III wirelesses. If, she hoped, someone was listening in or could detect that message, then there might be a chance that something might be salvagable from whatever disaster loomed on the horizon ...

---

FROM: C. in C. HMS 'DREADNOUGHT' - No. 1 FUYUKI BATTLE SQUADRON, R.N.

TO: ANY

URGENT. POSSIBLE HOSTILE BEING IN PROXIMITY OF FUYUKI AREA. BELIEVED TO BE OF EXTREME RISK OUTSIDE OF H.G.W. PARAMETERS.

MOVING TO IMMEDIATE BATTLE ALERT. MY POSITION: LAT. 56 48' N., LONG. 5 21' E.

AM WILLING TO CO-ORDINATE COUNTER-OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS WITH ANY WILLING OR ABLE-BODIED PARTICIPANT; CONTACT ON WIRELESS FREQUENCY "Z" (XXX GhZ) WITH AVAILABLE INTELLIGENCE, NUMBERS, CAPABILITIES AND ANY PRE-EXISTING PLAN OF ATTACK. IF UNABLE TO TRANSMIT, RENDEZVOUS AT MY CO-ORDINATES NEAR HARBOR FOR IN-PERSON CO-ORDINATION.

ANY CALLS FOR FIRE ARE TO BE CONTACTED ON FREQUENCY "Y" (ZZZ GhZ) WITH THE PRECISE CO-ORDINATES. CALLS FOR FIRE WILL BE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.

GOD SPEED.

END.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Harbour

@Paradox Witch

Right on schedule, Sstrategist smugly thought to herself, standing on the bow of her newest charge as its completed keel slid into the waterways. Within the gloom of the moon, the Servant could be seen standing steadily onboard an oddly-shaped ship. Unlike an ironclad or any of the 'newer' ships - seemingly fantastical - that Strategist had planned for and assisted her crew in making, this ship's profile was akin to an elliptical cylinder, tapering at the bow and stern and topped by a ship's gun and a steel, half story-high tower, topped by periscope sights. Small winglets sprouted off the bow and stern and the strange ship sat in the water to the point where one can reasonably slide off the side and into the water for a 'dip'.

However, as with all of Strategist's designs, this wasn't a pleasure cruiser or yacht. It was a ship patterned on a series of ideas trailing as far back as when a keg barrel-shaped that once wrecked terror on the oceans of America. A ship designed not to float on the sea, but to hide beneath it and to sink any enemy craft without being seen.

An E-class submersible.

Smoothly stepping off the bow of the HMS E21 and onto the pier, Strategist admired the handy-work she and her co-opted fellow sailors and Marines had been working on until this evening. Aside from the submarine, two more destroyers had been commissioned, while the half-completed hulls of three more - scraped together from whatever steel and relevant materials and equipment they could find and repurpose - were being swarmed over by welder-wielding work crews. The last two, idle ships were seized cargo ships secured to their piers; Strategist were saving these for one last project.

Aye, the last for now. As of tonight, she was effectively running short of practically every resource: steel, salvage, armaments and - if push came to it - what little Mana she'd been hoarding on to. She also knew that she could not last on what the Harbour could provide or could be taken by force-of-arms; the people within the City were suffering enough as it was without her destroying what little livelyhood they had left as well. Come the dawn, she would have to take her small fleet to track down more ships at sea to commandeer ... or to actually put her pooled-together assets to decisive use in the War, whatever the outcome of the proposed 'meet-and-greet', going on in the newly-created crater, turned out.

Problem was, even with this small task-force she had assembled, she knew she wasn't ready to make an audacious move on the Grail itself. And the latter, in of itself, was becoming a problem: tracking it down was one thing. Holding it and fighting off every other Servant who'd do-or-die to get it was another.

She sighed in audible frustration, putting a gloved hand to her forehead. "The mathematics of defeat, Fleet Admiral." she bitterly muttered, to both herself and through her link to Carly-Beth, if only to prompt the latter for advice.

E-class

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Main Deck, HMS 'Dreadnought' - Harbour

@Paradox Witch

Strategist blinked in surprise at the penguin's hostile response to her Master, which quickly resolved to anger as her Webley was, once again, unholstered. "Listen to me, you out-of-place water fowl!" she growled, taking aim. "I don't give a damn who your Master is or where they're from, but you're on my ship. Show some respect or I'll hammer it into you, the hard way!" Warning delivered, she returned her sidearm to its place as she amended, "However, your invitation is noted."

She glanced over to Carly as the latter suggested she'd send a mask along, adding, "On the one hand, I'd offer myself to go as well, Master. I suspect having a human face to the crowd would be better then having a floating mask. On the other ..." She didn't need to finish that sentence to know her Master would come to the same conclusion: that sending Strategist into the lion's den would not only be a major risk, but - if the meeting was a trap - their killing power would be entirely nullified if Strategist was killed.

Shrugging, the Strategist about-turned and headed for the battleship's citadel, calling back over her epaulet shoulder, "I'll be in my quarters in the aft section if you need me."

---

Admiral's Quarters, HMS 'Dreadnought'

The fact that Strategist was even able to have any quarters aboard her ship was a miracle unto itself, considering most of her officers slept in tight quarters, often in fold-down cots or even hammocks.

The room itself, as a result, was a limited, spartan affair. A fold-down cot with a pair of sheets, a thin blanket and pillow (all R.N.-issue, of course) ran parallel to one of the long bulkheads. An oaken writing desk and chair sat opposite, covered with charts, writing material, intelligence reports and (in one corner) a portable telephone conneced to the bridge and a mobile Morse transmitter/reciever. By the hatch, a pitifully-small washing basin and mirror sat; there was no sign of any showering ablutions within the room. Finally, in conjunction with the sole porthole that let fresh air in, a pair of glowing bulbs were suspended in steel restraints, welded in place, and hung from the series of pipes that ran above the occupants' head.

Not exactly Five Star living at the Ritz. Adequate, however, considering the cramped nature of the ship and it's 'combat first' design approach.

For now, Strategist sat at her desk, mulling over a couple of her papers. One of these reports was the latest meteorological updates: tidal changes, expected weather patterns, wind conditions and so forth.

The other, however, was of particular import to both Strategist and any enemy Servant who might get their hands on it. It was a multi-page report featuring a list of names, required components, measurements, estimated 'Times to Completion' and reams upon reams of additional data, linked to listed appendix numbers. The names - categorised appropriately - would send a chill up the spines of any enemy who had a hint of modern military nautical knowledge:

DREADNOUGHTS
HMS Dreadnought
HMS Bellephron
HMS Superb
HMS Temeraire
HMS St. Vincent
HMS Collingwood
HMS Vanguard
HMS Neptune
HMS Colossus
HMS Heracles
HMS Orion
HMS Monarch
HMS Conquerer
HMS Thunderer
HMS King George V
HMS Centurion
HMS Audacious
HMS Ajax
HMS Iron Duke
HMS Marlborough
HMS Benbow
HMS Empress of India
HMS Agincourt
HMS Erin
HMS Canada
HMS Queen Elizabeth
HMS Warspite
HMS Barham
HMS Valiant
HMS Malaya
HMS Agincourt (II)
HMS Revenge
HMS Royal Sovereign
HMS Royal Oak
HMS Resolution
HMS Ramillies

(...)

SEAPLANE CARRIERS
HMS Ark Royal ...

(...)

SUBMARINES
HMS E1 - E9 (Batch One)
HMS E10 - E20 (Batch Two)
HMS E21 - E56 (Batch Three)

and so on and so forth.

This wasn't a mere inventory listing: it was Strategist's grand design. A design for a fleet capable of overwhelming the entire Grail War system by force and recovering the 'ultimate artifact and weapon' mankind had ever desired and sought-for in vain:

A GRAND FLEET.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Main Deck - HMS 'Dreadnought', 3nm from Harbor

@Paradox Witch

Having dismissed her earlier assembly (having also heard and seen some of the after-effects of the earlier detonation, and planning a plan of action regarding a probable investigation in future), on her way to her quarters at the aft end of the ship, Strategist was stopped in her tracks near the armoured citadel by an unusual sight: her Master talking to a penguin.

Wait - how on God's earth did a penguin get aboard her ship? In the middle of the southern Sea of Japan?!

Curious, the Servant folded up her procured map folder and approached the pair quizzically. She cleared her throat, asking Carly-Beth, "It seems we have another visitor, ma'am. Another minion of the Piper's, or is this courier from someone else?"

With no immediate answer, she shrugged, folded her arms and tapped a boot against the deck.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Bow Deck, HMS 'Dreadnought', Outside Harbor
HOLY GRAIL WAR - DAY 4

@Paradox Witch@Argonaut

Strategist felt her uniformed chest swell with pride as she strode out from behind 'A' turret and passed her assembled officers, Marines and ratings. The sea that afternoon had been calm; everyone had been working around the clock with little rest, judging from both her own weariness and the visible signs of bleary-eyes among her men.

But their work since the successful capture of the Harbor had paid off. Strategist clambered up an external ladder and planted her boots in an 'at ease' posture (likewise placing her hands behind her back) and stared down at the upturned faces.

"Gentlemen!" she addressed them, trying to make herself heard. "Thanks to your efforts the previous day, we have succeeded in our first action of this new war! The securing of this harbor has not only allowed us to gain a foothold into Fuyuki, but has also given us access to raw material and a place to lie-up!"

A gloved hand thrust itself out towards the Harbor. "More then that, your conduct during the raid and in securing our salvage has been exemplary! Thanks to your restraint, your swiftness in the assault and in the control of your officers, the dock-workers and foremen of Fuyuki still have a place to come and work today! Furthermore, you have succeeded in helping us lay the foundations of our new fleet!"

A quartet of ship-horns and whistles shuddered out from the harbor and, in gradual succession, four more grey-armored hulls came into view, falling in behind the still-cruising 'Dreadnought'. Three of them were small, swift destroyers (Acheron-class), while lumbering behind them at a slightly-slower pace was the outline of a battlecruiser - HMS 'Invincible'; the first of her type anywhere in the world. All of them had been recreated from Strategist's memorised blue-prints, salvaged from pre-existing civilian hulls and worked on over the course of the previous evening and this morning; Strategist had to remind herself that she'd need to see her Master for much-needed Mana replenishment once she was finished here.

Strategist snapped to attention, slamming her boots against the cast-steel turret armour. "Three cheers for the Empire and Royal Navy! And three cheers for the 'Dreadnought'! Hip! Hip-hip!"

A hundred or so peaked caps and sailors hats were simultaneously raised from brows in salute. "HUZZAH!"

"Hip! Hip-hip!"
"HUZZAH!"
"Hip! Hip-hip!"
"HUZZAH!"

---

HMS Invincible (BC)

Acheron-class (DD)