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I'll be going Marine!


Maybe we should all start in the same Blue? Otherwise some people may get isolated from the rest of the RP.

Cities being 'destroyed' like this were not necessarily abnormal within the modern era they had just arrived from. It was something of a cruel fact of the world that situations like these were inevitable. Even so, it wasn't like that took away any of their value. Saving a person, saving a city, saving the history of man- even if those things ended, they certainly had 'value'.

Lancers only response to this disturbing landscape was to bring her hand to rest on the holy sword at her hip. Perhaps if any of them could see under her helmet, she may have scoffed a little. The bodies about her were far more abnormal than the city itself. Though she was not a Magus, she 'knew' what made up their body was synonymous with death. Yes, for as long as she was a Servant, touching that filth would be the same thing as laying down to die.

It was a bit boggling- to think that a military force could casually carry with it some sort of physical 'grudge' reaching into the divine class was unthinkable for this era. It had to be the work of a Servant, or something of an equivalent or greater threat level. This was something a Servants Noble Phantasm could certainly accomplish. Lancers grip on her weapon tightened slightly, and she prepared herself for combat at any moment, from any where. Their position was utterly unsecure.

That being said, her situation was far less important than her Masters. Lancer gave a moment to contact them and notify her of the situation, before waiting on a response.

As for those around her, she may have reacted to their presence certainly. But her helmet ensured her thoughts wouldn't be betrayed in the slightest.

Their first and most pressing concern was to leave this area. The soldiers wore the same uniform. Going off that, Lancer guessed they were all on the same side. Seeing as there were no other corpses aside from theirs, it was almost certain their opponent had been something nearing or at the class of a Servant. The ominous grudges that littered the ground, their confused arrival, and the very fact this was a battlefield- they needed to prioritize leaving and regrouping just as that master had said.

". . .We could be under watch right now. For the moment, I'll refrain." Revealing ones class could be free information to an enemy. Perhaps whoever had done this was an Assassin and never left? This place reeked of an ambush, especially with the possibly deadly terrain created by the bodies.

"I will take point while Assassin screens our advance. Little Brother, I'll leave the girl in your hands." Lancer set off, moving toward any direction that wasn't here. Until Assassin notified them of a good staging area to regroup, only leaving here mattered for the moment. Since that Assassin was the presumably the womans Servant, Lancer wasn't especially worried about them getting seperated. The capacity to speak over a link was a powerful asset.
One super scientist/engineer coming up(After the sheet is out).
I'll bite.

The second day of the Holy Grail War has ended.

The second night has begun.
The first night of the Holy Grail War has ended.

The second day has begun.
Phoebe "Annie" Mosey

The Swirl, Summoning Circle


It was always fate.

Phoebe always loved that word.

That was because fate was absolutely something one could define on their own. One could forge any destiny with practice, overcome any obstacle with sheer force of will. That was the definition of her existence, the definition of what it meant to be a Heroic Spirit. She had been nothing more than an actor, hadn’t she? What is the greatest sharpshooter compared to the son of any God? And, yet, she was one of the last to find a resting place in Elysium.

No, perhaps it would be better to call it Purgatory- or, maybe. . .Hell. After all, ‘that’ abyss was merely just a state of mind. And what she had been put through, definitely, was ‘Hell’.

Losing the sense of ‘Touch’.

Losing the sense of ‘Self’.

Losing the sense of ‘Me’.

Yes. By tampering with records, you fundamentally change what was recorded. That is a rule of this world, and of course memories were a record too so-

Archer felt it all fade away in a swirl. It was like watching a rotten apple get peeled and mulched up by a blender- wait, what was a blender?

But this her was embracing even that, wasn’t it? Ah, that’s what she hated. It was not fate, but perhaps the rule of the world behind it. And that rule had only owner, that is to say- Humans. Archer remembered that deep and fundamental disdain for a brief moment before it was no longer relevant. Ah, yes, she was definitely coming from Hell.

After all, she was a Devil.

Watanya "Oakley" Cecilia

High-Rise District, The Burbon Hotel Penthouse

In the end, she was a performer a heart. Or, at least- that was her excuse.

An overwhelming magical energy that could make even a great Mage look like nothing was suddenly on display at the summoning circles center. Inside, a young woman had begun to materialize. It seemed that Enzio’s prayer had been answered by this Holy Grail.

Or, perhaps. . .?

“Kuhuhu. . .” The figure was obscuring part of her face, but the expression of superiority under was more than distinct. If confidence showed the power of a Servant, then there was no doubt Enzio had summoned the strongest Servant. A normal person would no doubt be taken aback by their smug aura, which seemed to mock anyone who laid eyes on them.

In a flash of movement that no human could track, she pointed a hand toward her master in a shape almost like a gun. Almost.

“The names Watanya. And don’t you forget it.” Archer approached her master in a confident stride that almost defied her young age. There couldn’t be any doubt- she was more than a decade younger than him. Grabbing a firm hold of his arm(unfortunately, the one holding his cane), she made her way toward the Penthouse window.

Ah. It seemed she was acting her part as Archer. Surveying the landscape with her superior eyesight, Watanya would scope out the war and prove the strength of her class.

-Except, she just ended up jumping out the window dragging her master along for the ride.

Ah. Time to do what she loved.

What was it that she loved?

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛. Of course.

----> To Be Continued(In the Latin District)
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