3rd of June, 2067, Siberia

Wilhelm von Stattenberg was surprised, for lack of a better word.

Through his hidden recruiting of various individuals willing to stand against Robespierre in this joint operation, he expected to get only the most desperate and the most insane of Magi, a motley crew that could at best go out with a bang, then fizzle out on the chopping block in this one last stand.

And yet... despite all this, there was hope in Magus' heart, after so long. This could very well work. Their tech left a lot to be desired - it was only a pitiful shadow of Chaldea's technology - but even this ramshackled leyshift machine could do it. It helped that it wasn't that far away. What is 35 years for them?

He looked over the selection of assembled Magi and their summoned Servants, resistance's trump card. "Ladies, gentlemen, it seems we will be ready to proceed in but an hour." Wilhelm spoke, his voice loud and booming in the hall. "Attend to anything you need and be ready in this very room in an hour. We will explain the procedure then."

For people who're not paired up yet, let us make haste. For now let us warm up with some minor interaction.

Carmelo Ramirez

Carmelo sighed. One hour, just one hour, before they would be doing the usually ficticious time travelling back to thirty or so years ago. He knew they were travelling back for a better future, not just for Magi but for those of the church as well. But he couldn'thelp but wonder what would happen to them if they succeeded. After all, that was part of his motivation for helping, though it was a small part, a hope that he could be with his fiance if the Witch Hunt hadn't happened.

Speaking of women, he glanced at his Servant. As happy as he was for managing to summon someone he knew quite a bit, it hadn't escaped him that he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. At least for him. He wasn't really surprised though since history wasn't always right. Still, he found it amusing and a bit ironic that the man was a womanizer while his Master, Carmelo himself, had a great respect for women.

"Charlie, please try not to tick off any of the girls, unless you want to end up buried," he said in jest though he was serious on the matter.

He had decided to give the older man that nickname in part to reference the raptor from the Jurassic World film from his grandparents' days and the even older character Charlie Brown, since his Servant shared his family name. He didn't really want to call him Rider in case they encountered somebody who was not a threat and yet not really reveal his Servant's identity. Besides, it was fun giving him a nickname.

edited 20th Aug '16 11:45:23 PM by ShoutmonZ

SKYE:

The shock of the whole affair was still wearing off as Skye surveyed the aftermath. Sure enough, each of the eight candidates had a partner now. She knew Tante Arielle had a Lancer; Tante would always talk about her family's tradition with them. Skye was vaguely aware that she was the first of her family to go through this specific ritual, and besides a vague sense of the grand scale of which her family had done absolutely nothing, she didn't really feel much besides nervousness. It didn't matter much much in the big scheme of things anyway, both families were most likely dead.

After seven years, the thought only brought her a strange unease, more a longing for lost possibilities than true mourning. Here she was, about to embark on a mission to avenge- or maybe even save- them, and all she could think about was how unprepared for the task she was. She hated that part of herself, and tried to seal it off, but there was so much to contain and she knew she wasn't that good at it. She gripped the pollaxe head that rested on her hip, threaded onto one of her belts. Idly fingering the carabiner release that held the belt on, she wished for the umpteenth time that day that the artifact could store less tangible energies like courage or confidence.

Skye looked up to the tall woman next to her. Caster had a good six inches on her, and her figure was feminine in many ways Skye's lean body was not. Skye already knew that by dint of being a Caster she was already going to be far superior in supernatural ability, but did she have to show her up on a lot of the natural areas too?

"Caster?" She looked up at the taller woman's face, trying to figure out something to say. She couldn't make eye contact, and instead looked over towards Arielle and Lancer. "Lets go meet our new friends, yeah?" She barely gave Caster enough time to respond before starting off on a brisk walk towards her caretaker and the other Servant.

ARCHER:

Now this was a queer scenario. To someone who lived their one life to the fullest, finding themselves with another life was a bit of a strange occurance. Time to take stock.

First was one's own body. Oh yes, there were some changes here. A distinct lack of equipment in the boot, for one. Body felt a little topheavy, but managable. A name- a new one- was firm in the mind, Sian. Welsh, a girl's name. She was a woman now, she guessed, but didn't know why. Maybe some strange quirk of the summoning process, or a botched detail, foisted this upon her. There was an implication there, dated she knew but still worth checking. Could she fight?

Archer looked down at her body. The uniform style was very familiar, though specific pieces were not. She was pleased to find her sword; she was fully dressed for battle. Quiver opposite, so the weight on her back must be her bow. She felt for her lower back, and found the grip of a Fairbairn-Sykes and a strange pistol. She slid it out of the holster inside the pack and inspected it. It was a model that came after her time, but definitely a Sterling, and she knew Sterlings well. She operated the charging handle and found a round chambered despite no magazine attached. Interesting. She pocketed the ejected bullet and placed the gun back in the back holster. After some experimental movements, some tensing of muscles, she decided she was as combat-capable as she was in the prime of her life.

Why would she need it though? Something told her she was here to fight, but she was itching to get on with it. There was no trouble here however, nor even any other military personnel. None except for the one who had apparently called her here. Archer looked the man up and down. A very ornate uniform didn't allow him to identify any service he knew, but his bearing was military, and he even had a sword of his own, so Archer wouldn't have to dress him down over the odd uniform choice. From appearance alone he was Japanese, and despite never getting much of a chance to fight them, Archer respected their legendary tenacity during the war. Working with him would prove interesting. She stuck out a hand towards him with a genuine smile on her face.

edited 21st Aug '16 7:31:50 PM by Sere

Resistance Headquarters, Siberia

Lancer had never known such cold.

In her homeland, the winters were cool and crisp. Snow was rarely seen on the Veldt, unknown beyond the harsh mountain slopes. And even before she had raised her people up, the builders of the Zulu and their neighbouring tribes had known their craft. Even in the dead of winter, on the coldest nights, it was always warm inside her mother’s kraal. Next to the sun’s burning heat, the cold had always seemed a welcome respite, both in the days of her comparative innocence and in her time as a warrior, a conqueror, a king.

But that was another time, another place, another life.

In this time, this place, this life, the cold was heavy and oppressive. It clung to the bare skin of her arms, her legs, her abdomen. It seeped through soles hardened by hot coals and barbed thorns into her bare feet. It made a mockery of her wrist wrappings, her skirt, her pelt of bleached white fur. It turned her very breath into wisps of cloud even as it left her lips, slipping through the fine breathing holes of her mask.

It discomfited her, as few things did.

But discomfort was nothing. It was beneath her, and she refused to let it show.

And so she leaned against one of the pillars that lined the room, arms folded, one foot resting against the fluted stone. And from this nonchalant position, expression concealed beneath the painted mask, she observed the others who had been summoned—figuratively, and literally—into this room.

They were, in a word, bizarre.

Many of them she recognized instinctively as Heroic Spirits like herself, fellow Servants called forth from the Throne of Heroes. She did not wonder precisely how she knew this, and did not particularly care. The rest, like the woman who had summoned Lancer and was now her Master, could only be isangoma—mages, but like none Lancer had known in her lifetime. Some of them carried weapons, and one even had the bearing of a trained soldier.

This left Lancer conflicted. On one hand, she was amongst fellow warriors. On the other hand, the purpose of the isangoma was to heal and to bless, not to fight. To the Zulu, the paths of the warrior and the isangoma ran alongside each other, but never intersected.

Footsteps drew her attention away from her thoughts, and she glanced toward them. A young woman approached, her black garment and red skirt at odds with her pale skin and maize-coloured hair. The head of an axe was tucked into her belt, an axe with no handle. Behind her came an even paler woman with even more black clothing, this one raven-haired with a figure that spoke of easy living and abundant fertility.

Lancer straightened, taking her foot off the pillar. “Master.” The word left her lips in a husky contralto, spoken just loud enough to get her summoner’s attention if she had not already noticed the other two.

Baba Yaga

Standing amidst a crowd of strangers, the newly summoned Caster took a moment to take a note of those that surrounded her. These were supposed to be her allies from now on, which was a concept that would take some getting used to. Of particular note was the girl who was to be her new Master, and stood as a testament to how desperate the mages were getting. The nervousness on her face and her constant fidgeting with an object made it clear that some of the masters simply were not prepared for this.

The witch looked down at the shorter girl when she was addressed, adopting a calm smile as she answered "Yes, Master?" It was kind of funny to be in this situation. Baba Yaga was no stranger to the art of summoning a familiar, but now she was on the other end of the relationship. She didn't know if she should be amused or annoyed. It did not help that she could feel how inexperienced her master was from the prana of their connection. Caster was going to have to work hard to keep them both alive.

She watched as her Master quickly turned and rushed off to meet their 'friends'. Was the young girl intimidated by the witch? A smile graced her lips as a finger came up to her chin in contemplation. Maybe this relationship will be fun after all. Caster followed after her Master at a casual pace, It was not like they had far to go. "Now now Master, no need to rush." Caster called out after Skye.

Cpt. Muhikou

The summoning process went spotlessly, much to Tomohisa's surprise. He wasn't really much of a Magus when it came down to intricate rituals. The mechanisms and guides provided here in this base hidden amongst the Siberian snow proved helpful enough, at least.

His choice was to look for a fellow military, but one of modern - relatively so for Servant standards, at least - warfare. There was no short supply of exceptional soldiers, generals and war heroes, but one in particular got Tomohisa's attention; one that bore the name of one of Allies' leaders. A man that once claimed that an officer going to battle without a blade is an underdressed one, the one that used bow and arrow alongside firearms. Mad Jack Churchill.

Whether it was him who botched the summoning or something else, Servant Archer was a woman. He - she - appeared only mildly perplexed by it, so it seemed that this was indeed Mad Jack him... herself.

They shook hands. "Pleasure's all mine." He spoke, smiling back to her. His grip was firm, but not unwelcoming.

Lucas

Lucas was also having a hard time taking all this in. Granted, this was a plan concocted for months, but it still felt like a delirious dream to him. To gather various Magi, have them summon Heroic Spirits from the past, and go back in time to stop Robespierre’s rule before he could start the Witch Hunts – he would have laughed off the idea if times weren’t so desperate. Unfortunately, he, like everyone here, knew they were.

With the meeting adjourning for the time being, Lucas turned to face where he thought his own Servant was standing. “Am I correct in assuming you have what you need for this mission, Assassin?”

Sorry for taking so long, Sven. >__>

Some time before

This was it. Arielle could feel the weight of her responsibilities, the eyes of her ancestors upon her as she looked over the summoning circle one more time to make sure all was in order. Her sacrifice in place, her incantations well-practised. It was as if her entire life had been leading up to this moment. For months now she had been poring over the ancient manuscripts of the Fournier family, whose studies into Servant Summoning went back centuries. As the sole heir to the Fournier legacy, Arielle would not disappoint her forebears in failing to summon a powerful Lancer, and with their power take back the life and inheritance she had lost.

The magic circle flared up as Arielle began to chant. The basic ritual was based on Yggdmillennia family's ritual words, a family of small importance but great diversity. It was a good base ritual, but it had room for improvement.

There was a flux in the streams of magic, and Arielle could feel the tempest reach into her very soul to grasp at her innermost prana reserves.

Now for the secret incantation of the Fourniers, passed down through the generations to ensure the summoning of the resilient and powerful Lancer-class.

Yes! The near-blinding shine of magicks unbound had taken on the auroreal nimbus that the old volumes had spoken of. Now, to complete the summoning!

A burst of light, a final crescendo of ancient magic. The sacrifice spent, crumbling to dust. And in the center of the magic circle, a woman clad in mask and furs, and wielding a fierce spear and great shield. Arielle couldn't help but smile with relief. She had managed to honour the family legacy and summon to her side a Lancer. But despite her studies of legendary and mythical lancers, she could not recognize the Heroic Spirit before her. Not that it mattered. Doubtlessly, a Servant garbed as such belonged to the most ancient and powerful of heroic legends. Dare she hope for divinity?

"Rise, Lancer," Arielle called her Servant. "And heed the command of your Master."

The Present

Arielle's eyes scanned the room, studying the Servants that had been summoned. There were many great personages, though certain stood out more than others. She did not know their identities or even Classes, but she could make a few educated guesses. However, if they were to fight together efficiently, she should have to make an effort to understand how they fought, though she did not need to know too much. The knowledge could be extracted from her forcibly.

Lancer directed her attention to two approaching figures, her ward Skye and her Servant. Arielle was glad to see that Skye had been successful. Truly she showed great talent for Magecraft despite her lack of experience.

"'Allo Skye, chérie," Arielle greeted her with a smile. "Congratulations on successfully summoning a Servant. How is your body handling the exertion of magic power?"

Next she turned to greet the younger woman's Servant.

"And would I be correct in assuming that you are of the Caster class, Heroic Spirit?"

Well, with the manner of dress it was either that or Assassin, and she sincerely hoped the latter was not the case. Though it could be an uncommon incarnation of a different Class.

edited 22nd Aug '16 11:13:58 PM by Lemurian

Resistance Headquarters, Siberia

Lancer studied her Master’s interaction with the younger isangoma. Before a single word had been spoken, it was immediately apparent that Lancer’s Master knew the other Servant’s Master. There was no tension in her posture, no hint of guardedness towards an unfamiliar face. There was only a welcoming smile, and kind words.

They knew each other by name. They were close, judging by that term of endearment. For a moment Lancer even thought they might be related by blood, but a closer look showed that the physical similarities between them—even taking the age difference into account—were superficial at best.

Perhaps they were student and mentor.

The face of her own mentor Dingiswayo passed before Lancer’s eyes, and for a moment she allowed herself to smile at the memory of happier times. Then it was gone, and she looked past “Sky” to the girl’s Servant.

Studying her, Lancer had to agree with her Master’s guess that the black-haired woman was most likely a Caster. She didn’t have the figure of someone trained for physical combat, and that tight-fitting dress and those bizarre shoes that raised her heels far off the ground were ill-suited for the battlefield. How could you even walk in those ridiculous things, let alone run?

Without a word Lancer folded her arms, waiting to hear the other Servant’s answer. She gave a slight nod, a subtle acknowledgement from one Heroic Spirit to another. And she waited.

No worries Aqua

Assassin

Leaning against a pillar near his Master's position, Assassin looked over the crowd of Masters and Servants in the room. So, these were his allies for the current mission...one of the strangest sabotage missions ever, in Assassin's opinion.

Time travel, how does it work?

Speaking of Allies, he had identified one of the Servants as Miyamoto Musashi, as she had been alive during his time, albeit they had never met on the battlefield.

Her skill with a sword will be a worthy asset to the mission. He mused, shifting his spear slightly. Assassin's attention was then drawn back to his Master, who had asked him a question. "You are, Master. Thanks to Ninjutsu, I always have everything I need to perform my mission." He replied. "What about yourself, Master?"

edited 23rd Aug '16 8:36:52 AM by svenorzokarkoff

Rider

Rider casually looked around the room of the assembled Masters and Servants. The Servants seemed more than capable of handling the dangerous mission they were about to partake in. Which is good considering Rider was probably the weakest one there. He suppose that is to be expected, his "legend" while not lacking in adventure wasn't one of conflict. He spent most of his life digging in the dirt for fossils and was more famous for finding a large dead lizard, or rather a large dead bird given the information beamed into his brain from his summoning.

"Science Marches On," he mused internally.

"No need to worry, my boy." Rider proclaimed, giving his Master a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure none of the women here would be interested in an old fossil such as myself."

Speaking of the ladies, there were quite a few lovely one's here. Rider was always one with a wandering eye, even when he was married. Which was likely the biggest reason his marriage with his second wife eventually fell apart. He wouldn't try anything now besides looking. He got the feeling the female Servants could kill him ten times over if he tried any advances on them.

Michael

Michael barely acknowledged what was going on in the room. He was far more interested in the book he was reading when they were called into here. It was a book from the year 2016 called Devour by Kurt Anderson, an author he never really heard of until he found this book in a library. The book was about a Sea Monster that awoke from hibernation in the modern world and began attacking ships. It was pretty good so far. The cover really interested him, it reminded him of the those old monster movie poster like LakePlacid: a cruise ship in foreground with the monster's jaws rising from the depths in the background, threatening to consume the ship. Awesome.

...What was he doing again? He looked from his book and looked around. Oh. Right. Getting ready for the mission. Sighing he put a book mark between the pages he was at and closed the book.

"Are you ready for this, Saber?" Michael asked his Servant as he adjusted his glasses.

SKYE

As Skye approached, she studied Lancer in greater detail. It reminded her in a way of natives from her home country, though her skin was much darker. Lancer didn't wear much in the way of armor, except for a strange, intimidating mask. Skye wondered what she looked like beneath it. When she completed her short trip around the arc of the room - not long after Caster told her there was no reason to walk so fast - Arielle asked her how she was holding up.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Skye responded. "It's almost like Bala, but much more intense." Now that the summoning rituals were complete, she could recall the bird from outside where it couldn't interfere. She sent it a mental command, felt an acknowledgement, and in the back of her mind she could see the bird leave its perch of an exposed pipe in the wall and fly through the door. She lifted her right elbow, and the gyrfalcon landed on her bicep before sidestepping over to her right shoulder. She scratched the back of its head as she turned halfway towards her new Servant, who had by then caught up. "Yes, she's is a Caster! You summoned a Lancer right? Like your family always did?"

Baba Yaga

Caster stood behind her Master, looking over the master/servant pair that the young girl had approached. It was pretty clear from the way the two talked to each other that they were at least familiar with each other. From what her Master said, it would also seem like the servant in front of them was a Lancer. One of the three knight classes which was something valuable to have on their side.

In response to Lancer's nod, Caster gave a small curtsy and a playful smile. The small gesture from the other servant was already telling. The masked woman was silent and stoic so far, most likely a serious type. Not the kind of person she really wanted to be around often. At her Master's introduction, Caster gave the other master a light bow. "It is as my Master says. I am of the Caster class. Am I correct in assuming you two are close? I am hoping that I won't have to look after my young Master alone." Baba Yaga responded.

"Good," Lucas responded. "I believe I already have what I need for this mission as well, so I guess for now..." He paused a moment, trying to figure out what to do before the mission officially starts. "...I suppose we'd be best off discussing with our fellow teammates on what to do."

The man, eyes calm, stands in the corner of the room. Like a mariner who, seeing a glut of grey clouds on the horizon, grips the ropes and braces himself from his heels on up - so he stands, although the only thing touching his calloused hand is the wall, and the only place the sea whispers is his blue eyes. He is wearing a simple white tunic, which hangs clasped by a gold brooch from his stocky breast. His beard is a dark chestnut brown, flecked with premature grey like lichen. Yet his face looks older than any tree. It's his aura, a quiet aged mildness, hard like elm-wood charred in a crucible.

"My name is Aeneas," he says, in a firm low voice, hoarsened by the screaming of countless storms. "I am the son of divine Venus and noble Anchises. Fair Ilium was my home, 'til its burning, when Destiny and the high gods led me to the Latin shore to found the race of Romans."

Hanging from his side is a sword in a gilded leather sheath, hilt wrapped with bands of burgundy. He lets it swing easily, with stolid poise. A quizzical look crosses his handsome brow.

"I have been summoned here as Servant Saber," he says, "but I neither feel nor see my Master. Where is he? I wish to make his acquaintance."

edited 25th Aug '16 7:04:17 AM by troydenite

Master of Berserker

Cold. Why did it have to be cold. Avrum shuddered and fiddled with his kippah before returning his attention to his siddur — while he was no believer, old habits die hard and since there was no minyan to be found for miles around, he had to pray by himself; the irony of the act was long-lost on him.
Still, the increasing hubbub made him raise his gaze from his book. One hour left, then? Good. It was time to undo this travesty and give his family the peace they deserved. The Haredi looked at his Servant. “Are you ready, Berserker?”

“What?” It was unlike Miyamoto Musashi to daydream, and yet she couldn’t shake the image of a smiling kirishitan priest from her mind’s eye; her Master’s question returned her back to reality. “Of course I’m ready,” she said, tapping her shoulder with the back of one of her swords, “I’m always ready! I’m the best swordsman in the land!”

Resistance Headquarters, Siberia

Lancer smirked when the other Servant smiled and curtsied at her. That smile had carried just a hint of mockery. Whoever Caster was, she clearly wasn’t the meek and submissive type.

Good. Lancer had never liked that sort of woman, and she’d have hated to work with one.

At Skye’s words, Lancer glanced at her Master. “Your family has a history of summoning Lancer-class Servants, Master?” She looked at Skye. “Then I’m proud to say my Master has upheld that tradition. I am Lancer.”

She paused, glancing toward a corner of the room where a ninth, seemingly Master-less Servant was declaring his true name and pedigree for all to hear. She stared at him for a long moment. The beaded bells hanging from her mask’s horns rang faintly as she turned back to her Master, Caster, and “Sky”.

“I am Lancer,” she said again, “and Lancer I shall remain.” She would not divulge her identity so easily, not to people that she barely knew and who might one day be her enemies. Let the Saber, Aeneas, do as he wished; she would not follow in his footsteps.

Glancing down, Lancer pointed at “Sky’s” hip. “You carry an axe with no haft.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

"Very well." Assassin nodded and took his place beside Lucas. Scanning the crowd, he asked, "If you seek information, do you have anyone in mind, Master?"

Hearing Aneas speak made Assassin wonder if all Sabers were this bold. If this were a Grail war, this Saber would have signed his own death warrant...but perhaps his confidence is a testament to his skill. he thought, before muttering to Lucas, "Master...what do you know of Aneas?"

edited 25th Aug '16 2:06:31 PM by svenorzokarkoff

Berserker

Hervor was disappointed.

Ever since her glorious death fighting the Huns and rising to the Throne of Heroes, Hervor the Shield-Maiden had had the pleasure of duelling with many powerful Servants and Masters, locking blades with great warriors and walking upon countless battlefields. Truly, it was Valhalla, with one glorious battle after another to whet the apetite of her cursed family blade and sate her own craving for war.

And now this. Legendary heroes every which way you turned your head, and she wouldn't be able to duel any of them. Forced to be allies in this battle against mere mortals. Still...what her opponents lacked in quality, they would have to make up in quantity.

"Yes, I am ready, Master," Berserker answered, making no attempt to hide her boredom. "More than ready."

Master of Lancer

"Indeed, you seem to have performed admirably," Arielle complimented her pupil. "And yes, I was successful in summoning Lancer. The Fournier tradition lives on in me."

She smiled. Hopefully that would be the first step to restoring her house. She turned to Caster, who was showing an interest in their conncetion. Well, Arielle supposed that was only natural. Masters usually did not work together like this where Heroic Spirits were involved.

"Your Master is my ward as well as my pupil. Though I expect you to do your utmost to protect your Master, won't you, Caster?"

edited 27th Aug '16 4:19:40 PM by Lemurian

One Hour Later...

While the discussions and introductions might have been nice, the most pressing matter remained. They were not here to rest, after all.

There was a mission, and one of dire importance. This team of select few, the remnants of the world of Magi, they had to travel back in time to see to Robespierre's demise. His discoveries should not happen in the first place, so clearly they had to be an anomaly to be corrected, no?

The main room of this facility was ready, leyshifting chambers prepared to transport the Masters back in time. Attending to them with various finishing touches was a number of men and women in labcoats.

Overseeing the general picture was the same man that had welcomed them here: Wilhelm von Stattenberg. A prominent face of German government, he was until very recently in charge of Heer itself. Sadly, his ties to Magical Resistance - or rather, his implied ties, as nothing concrete was ever proven - forced him to make a hasty escape from his home country, especially in face of the evergrowing presence of Robespierre-sponsored Pureblood Party, a political program that more moderate commentators have compared with terrors of 20th Century's totalitarism.

Von Stattenberg's influence made Germany a safe heaven for various practicioners of Magecraft and religion alike, but not even that could last.

"Ladies, gentlemen." He greeted the gathered team with a small nod before gesturing towards the leyshifting chambers. "I will keep it brief. Your mission is to go back in time to year 2032, before Armand Robespierre has claimed the seat of President of France, and assassinate the mentioned man by any means necessary. It should go without saying that you are all aware of what The Witch Hunt is responsible, how many lives it claimed, how long has it gone unchecked."

"You will be situated in these leyshifting chambers. Thanks to the recycled Chaldean technology we're able to send your essences back through the continuum. Heroic Spirits will be able to travel with you without boarding the chambers in question." Von Stattenberg looked carefully at the selection once again.

"I will have to ask you to exercise extreme vigilance. The world where we will send you is the one before The Witch Hunt, but merely a step away. If possible, you will have to operate with extreme discretion to not turn Robespierre into a martyr for his ilk to follow. What good is getting rid of him if five more Robespierres emerge?"

"Time is of the essence. If you have any last questions, ask them now. Otherwise, please board the chambers and prepare for the leyshifting."

One Hour Later

Now that the introductions were out of the way, Lancer stood beside her Master, Arielle, and listened intently to the briefing. This talk of witch hunts struck a chord with her.

To the Zulu people, magic was a complicated thing. The inyanga were medicine men, healing the body’s physical ailments, while the isangoma used their powers to protect the soul and ward off evil spirits. These ways were accepted. All else was foul sorcery, witchcraft, and practitioners of it would be put to death along with their relatives.

In that respect, Lancer could understand the motivations of the Witch Hunt. But this man who lead the hunt, this Robespierre… he saw all magic as sorcery. He tarred healers and witches with the same brush. Left unchecked, he would surely wipe her people’s traditions from the face of the earth.

She could not allow that. He had to be stopped.

Once the floor had been opened for questions, Lancer punched her palm. The resulting smack echoed faintly. “What sort of resistance can we expect?” she asked. “Even if Robespierre won’t be as powerful as he is now, surely he’ll have allies and protectors.”

Hikaru Rensaki

Hikaru listened carefully to the briefing, her face neutral underneath her glasses. She didn't think she quite had it in her to assassinate people, but...glancing around the room, she saw plenty of people who looked more capable in that area than her.

And if all I have to do is keep people from getting killed, I think I can do that.

The teen breathed steadily - in, then out - as she checked her prana reserves. Everything was full, and ready to go. She'd temporarily lost track of her Servant after the summoning, though, and she twisted around in an attempt to locate the knight. Who was pretty tall, really, so this shouldn't be too hard...

"What exactly are we doing at this step?" Lucas responded. "Will we be accomplishing some goal while we're at that timepoint, or do we need to wait for the leyshift to send us to the next one?"

Sorry for short post

"And can I just send my Servant through and just stay here and not risk getting shot?" Michael chimed in with his own question from the back of the group, trying his best (and failing) at throwing his voice to make it seem like someone else asked that question. Quickly as he could he opened up the book he had on him to a random page and began glancing at the words on the page, trying his best (once more failing) to look nonchalant.

One hour later

Saber

“Doesn’t matter,” Musashi told Lancer, confidence evident in her tone. “You have the world’s greatest swordswoman with you.” She slapped her shoulder with the blunt side of one of her swords for emphasis. “Tenka Musou isn’t an empty brag, y’know.”

Avrum said nothing after that question, busying himself with finishing his prayer. That done, he tucked the siddur into a pocket and waited, cross-armed, for their leader to finish his briefing and his compatriots to finish their questions. There was nothing more to add, he said to himself. It is time to act and end this travesty, this ‘witch hunt’; it was a terror of the olden days brought up by a madman, and it to be stopped.