Avatar of Plank Sinatra

Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current deconstructions are fake lol
1 like
3 yrs ago
"return of the mack, you know that i'll be back." in his bed, joe biden lurches awake, wild-eyed. many a year he has watched, waited for the mack's return. hes as ready as he will ever be. he t-poses
3 yrs ago
Today Show 9-11-01 ~ Live on NBC as Tragedy Occurred [s l o w e d + r e v e r b]
1 like
3 yrs ago
40 hours into the mass effect remaster. gameplay is good but not sold on the plot changes. wish garrus would stop saying "reaper? i hardly know her!" laugh track on the normandy is a weird choice too
6 likes
3 yrs ago
fine, since you asked so nicely officer, i will confess my crimes. since i was seven years old i have refused to match any socks in my sock drawer. i practice sock hookup culture. i am a slut
7 likes

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Most Recent Posts

@HereComesTheSnow @Krayzikk @Write @Black Keys @CarbinatedDream @Darked13 @Reflection

Servants




Master



CS templates are now live! Remember - PM us any questions or final sheets instead of posting them here in the int. check. We don't want you guys giving up your big reveals yet!
Omnes viae Romam ducunt.

All roads lead to Rome. No matter who you had been, no matter what you had done, no matter where you had come, it was you who had been chosen. It was you who had been called to the City of God, your flesh marked by mysterious sigils of sanguine. It was you who had been called to become a Master, to serve as an anchor for those heroes of bygone days. It was you who had been called to fulfil your greatest wish, to make your dream a reality.

It was you who was chosen by the Holy Grail.

Deep in the vaults of the Vatican, the Grail has awoken, its voice guiding seven individuals from across the globe to Rome for a singular purpose: to take its power for their own. An artefact with immense magical energies, the vessel of Christ’s lifeblood is said to be capable of performing miracles. And all that is required is a simple ritual.

A battle royale.

Seven magi will summon seven Servants, magical beings containing the essence of legendary heroes, to fight each other until only one remains. And the victors, both Master and Servant, will be proved worthy of the Grail. Proved worthy of having their greatest wish granted.

Your greatest wish.

But, unlike the past wars to the East, simply winning the War is not everything. Rome is under the aegis of the Holy Church, and every step you make, every action you take, is only permitted because they deem it so. And to retrieve the Grail from deep beneath the city, to steal it away from the boundaries of Urbs Aeterna, is to declare war on the Church on its home ground. In order to succeed, subtlety is absolutely paramount, and making alliances could be beneficial.

If you are not careful, you will be exposed to the wrath of Rome itself, and possibly even the disapproval of a unique, independent Servant - one who calls the Grail itself its Master.

The risk is great, but the rewards are even greater.

That is the nature of the Holy Grail War.

---

Hey folks, this is a Fate RPG set in modern day Rome, where a Holy Grail (or for the more cynical, just a big mass of magical energy) has chosen seven Masters from all over the world to participate in the Holy Grail War. Pretty straightforward, except Rome is Church territory, so if you're not careful, they'll descend on you like a sack of bricks. The Grail’s also in their possession, so at some point not only will you have you fight off your competitors, you'll also have to find a way to sneak it out of Rome without getting hit (making friends will help out in this new heist, but remember - a Holy Grail War only has one winner!)

There's also a Ruler overseeing this War, so if you overdo it, you'll be getting a visit from them as well.

Besides that, none of you know what Servants your rivals have summoned either. So when we (@Plank Sinatra and @Crimmy) get the CS templates up and you’re ready to submit your finished CSes, PM us your pair’s full Servant sheets, and we'll show redacted versions that we will fill out as you guys fight each other and bait each other into revealing your abilities and identities. Think of a system akin to Fate/stay night and its status screens.

We'll try and start when there's seven Servants and Masters. If you don't have a pair, hit up your friend, or if you really can't or none of them are interested, feel free to be both sides of your pair.

Character sheet templates will go up when we get enough interest. In the meantime, feel free to tag us here with any questions. One of us is always awake and usually around.


So he did explain.

As they enjoyed their coffee outside, Brennan recounted the events of last night through his own eyes from start to finish. If anything, he undersold his role in the chaos as much as he could - after all, explaining to your girlfriend that you willfully and gleefully hopped into the path of a bus, even when your esper ability revolved around such a sudden jolt, was never going to go over very well. He also appeared slightly sheepish when he admitted that, unlike her, he'd had his target trapped in a corner like a dog, only to let him go for the cheque they'd just cashed.

"But it was a good idea." He had no idea how his self-defense was working, but he refused to budge on his conviction. "If Anti-Skill had taken him in he would have just clammed up and we probably would have never heard a single thing about it again. At least the cheque gives us a name to go off of. Besides, I'm not even really making a profit. Not when I consider expenses."

He beamed cutely and took a long drink of his coffee, eyes never leaving Kawaguchi's.
CORINNE SHOURICHI'S SUPER HOT DATE! A SUPERHERO FALLS IN LOVE FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BULLET!


"Fear not, loyal friends! My stalwart minions! Every moment since my conception has been spent planning this suit's theft! May your dreams hold me aloft on my flight to destiny, as I hold your dreams aloft in tuuuuurn!"


The Guarlion Custom had not sought to change its altitude after Corinne had thoroughly humiliated its Barrelion escort, so Corinne only had to keep pace with her counterpart - an easy enough task given the R-Blade's specifications. Normally she would have found such a task as this not just child's play, but beneath her notice; Hazel Ada seemed to be having tons of fun with this engagement, so perhaps the disabling of the Custom would have been delegated to her in most circumstances. But there was something about this Guarlion, or perhaps something about how everyone had asked her to do it...she...she...

She loved it! She was so cool! She was their...their...


superhero!


Corinne squealed in delight as her R-Blade followed the Guarlion Custom, parallel, on its path towards her second-in-command. Adam was already engaged with another Guarlion, but he would no doubt prove capable to the task of distracting the enemy commander for the crucial seconds she needed. As he moved forward for an Assault Blade strike, the R-Blade's G-Revolver was drawn, ready for a pair of dead eyes on the Guarlion Custom's shoulders. Normally she would have found it a task worthy of the beam rifle, but even with her prodigious aim there remained the possibility of more damage than was necessary. A few dead eyes with the G-Revolver would do the trick.

"Adam, my love!" she sang, already lining up her aim. "Be prepared to catch the Guarlion when it loses flight capability! Anju, you saucy bitch, help him carry the load back to shore. Hazel Ada, cute mute, once we have the Custom, break pursuit. You're not in a video game. Aaaaand..."

She fired once, then again. One shoulder, then another.

"Boom, bye bye~!"


"Trust me, you can't possibly be adjusting more than I am at this second." Now that the dorm was filling up, and Jer was being faced with the breakdown of all his move's predictability, he walked over protectively to his things. His eyes fell on the three photographs, but he didn't move them. Instead he reached for the lone open box of clothes, where the imprints of the three photographs were still faintly visible in a stack of folded shirts. He reached for the top fabric and pulled it out of the box; it was no shirt at all, but a matte black face scarf, faded slightly brown from age and wind.

He let out a long, deep breath. The fabric rolled through his fingers and slipped back into the box.

"Look." He turned around to face the two Beaconites, face inscrutably neutral. "I would rather take a jack-knife off that balcony right now than sleep in the same room with either of you. Especially for a sustained amount of time."

His teeth chewed, very slightly, on the corner of his bottom lip.

"But I would rather be here than return home a pancake. So I'm not going to question this until someone questions me. Are either of you team captain?"


"Nope."

...

...

...

...

...

Where in Vale could you get good lamb? Sear that with some thyme...

...

...

...

"Yes."

He came sidling back in a few seconds later, crossing his arms sitting on the dresser beside his TV and video game paraphernalia. He refused to sit on the bed yet.

"Your TV in here is crappy and probably not 4K. I'm using it as target practice next lesson. This is an Atlesian TV dorm now."

Hey, I'm Jericho. I hope we work well together.

@Write @HereComesTheSnow @FlitterFaux


"Skitter once if you're there." So spake Jer, teeth gritted around a piece of boxing tape, ripping it away from the roll as he finished wrapping a fresh set of gauze around his tricep.

Without the sound of the hot water running into the drain, or beating against his body, the locker room was quiet. Jericho didn't make noise very often. He liked keeping an ear out for the people around him. Right now, there was nobody. He was freshly dressed, staring at his tight black t-shirt in the mirror, the white monogrammed '#1 CLONE' letters staring up at him from his sternum. It was his most effective catalyst. If he wasn't getting an answer, he wasn't going to.

"Worth a shot."

He had hoped that Bekah would be here, stalking him, waiting to help him practice his introduction to the rest of the team. He had effectively bungled his introduction to his classmates-turned-students by throwing them into a hellish obstacle course when he meant to say hi, and it wouldn't do to repeat the mistake with his new unit. Unfortunately, it was far too late for him to disguise himself as someone else - or even as the other sex - in order to facilitate a later, seamless escape back to Atlas. He had shown his face during classes all day. By now his absence would already be missed.

He would have to be a flapjack.

"Hey, I'm Jericho. I can't wait to work with you guys."

Sure he could. He was already homesick. There were no real lights in Vale. Where was the neon?

"Hey, I'm Jericho. Good to meet you guys."

Maybe. Maybe not.

He could have called his dad and asked for help, but everyone else in his family would have roasted him over an open fire for overthinking saying hello to someone so much. Jer was better at infiltrating things he was supposed to put a stop to. The real him was boring and staid, unimportant to whatever task ever ended up being at hand. The Jer with the big guns and the knives and the Semblance were what was important. The Jer with the spooky arm was all that mattered anymore. Everything else was prologue.

Jer sighed and tossed his hair back, running ridges through it with his fingers. He made sure to leave his guns, chest holster, and knives - or at least the ones he'd had on his person all day - in his gym bag on his way back. His Scroll remained in his hand, to make sure he had the right room assignment for his team. He gritted his teeth and let out a long breath when he reached it; he smelled food. He knew it was probably a welcoming gesture for him, maybe a way to make him feel at home. Honestly he just wished he'd gotten here before everyone else so he could do the cooking himself.

Dad was able to pretend he liked normal people. He envied that.

The door swung open, and Jer kicked his gym bag full of weaponry over to the bed where, at a glance, he could see the rest of his belongings had been left. He gripped the top of the door frame with both hands, leaning forward casually. They had definitely bought food. Lots of it. Crap.

"Hey, I'm Jericho. I hope we work well together."

For a second, he was absurdly proud of himself. That was a fantastic hi.

Then he looked past the food.

...



Jericho Piper turned around and walked back out, through the open door.



"Oh yeah? I was planning on keeping it a secret, but since you asked so nicely..."

There was almost no distance between their eyelashes, their noses, their lips. Lauren sighed softly, grinning, the cool mint of the gum she had been chewing in class dancing on her breath--

"EEEEEEEEENGH"

-and breaking into her best interpretation of the dreaded game show buzzer, arching her back away from Ben to get some distance from the blacksmith boy's face.

"You can see it Friday with everyone else, you bum ass redneck. Thinking I'm gonna show you shit after you friend-proofed your fucking shield. Fuck outta here, you milk-colored goof. Let's pick up the girls and get those fucking burgers."


Lauren was only spatially aware of her colonizer mule boy shuttling her back to the Bastille dorm, likely so she could enjoy the benefits of white dick and someone to do her homework for her. She was still wrapped up in ideas on how to stop Diamond Frost's clock discreetly, hopefully - but not necessarily - through an intermediary. She was hung up on the image of a good nail bomb, personally. The little bitch had the pencil neck for it; it would soak up a lot of shrapnel, leave the bitch with more nails through it than a voodoo doll. Make her a san-terrrrrrri-a piece.

There was a girl who loved her who would have happily done it. That was dependent on her finding out about Lauren's survival and not going out of her way to kill her too, though, so maybe a late-night "u up" wouldn't fly so hot...

Or maybe it would. Like she'd told Luke, it was always best to just shoot your shot. Especially if the target had an untraceable baseball bat that could pulverize Diamond with Dust crystals, too. That was what the poets of the streets called an ironic touch. Ali was like that - like if everything had gone wrong for Estelle Nuit. Heeee.

Lauren was quiet, contemplating, as they left the Dust Apps classroom.

Cap was getting bold as fuck shuttling her around the halls like this, wasn't he? People would get ideas. And then she'd have to implement those ideas on him, like a camp counselor in the night.

"Where we going? Do you know where Sangue is, Cap? Are we all meeting up?" Lauren began to fidget in Ben's grasp, legs wrapped around him as she gyrated to the sides, the motions somewhat unfamiliar now that she had trapped herself in a uniform. "Are we?"



To deter Bianca, Jericho had set off a couple flashbang traps at critical points in the faculty locker room connected to the Practice classroom.

Then he decided to shower before meeting his new team.

Flapjacks.

God damn it. He'd been a heavenly knight a week ago.

He'd gone from kitchen wench to goddamn Miss Buttersworth.

Rich would be laughing at him from his perch in Atlas, until he learned where groceries came from and how much time it took to get them.

The hot water beat onto his forehead, rhythmic, helping him brood.


Though Brennan did take the majority of the money that was on hand from the checking account, most of that was just for rocket parts and food tonight. He could have paid for a new phone with most of the cash he had on hand, of course, but saying he needed a down payment on the newest and techiest made far more sense for a couple that looked as well-off as he and Umeko did. So as they walked out of the bank, Brennan once again effusively thanking the teller for his help as the doors shut behind them, the Irish exchange student's grin grew far more self-satisfied than it had been inside.

"You know what?" he asked playfully, slipping one arm around the mecha otaku. "We'll get coffee first, lass. There is no reason we can't relax for a few minutes."
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