The Holy Grail Wars

[Eva]

"Show me Room Five." a bored voice ordered. Sitting in a small room all by her lonesome, Simone de Rosseau was casually observing her charges struggling. Every time they let out a cry of frustration, she merely smirked. Oh, yes, Simone remembered her first attempt at summoning. She had held herself tight and wept for five minutes after failing.

She had been such a fool.

She had gotten the hang of it, quickly enough to be one of the first ten to succeed, though. And how here she was, with more magical power than the ants she had to watch. Is this how my Proctor felt?, she asked herself. Most likely.

The swirling mass of energy in front of Simone was showing some boy, quite young but not a child, still struggling with his summoning. In front of him was a cup, a grail, that had been given to assist the summoning. Once he had proven himself, his Servant would materialize from that grail.

He would not prove himself. He was weak willed.

"Proctor, one of the Masters has begun to successfully summon their Servant." a deep male voice told her. Simone nodded. "Switch to them." she ordered. The mass changed its view to that of a young woman. Her grail was beginning to glow, like a fire that being born of tiny sparks. And then it started to shine much brighter, and Simone knew that she had succeeded. "Others have begun their summonings." the same voice said. Simone stood up. "Those that have not completed their summon will be teleported back to their homes. The Grail shall see to it." With that, she left her room.

Ten minutes later, Simone stood in front of sixteen individuals, and offered a smile. "Today marks the beginning of the 100th Grail War. For over three centuries this ritual has existed. And you are the lucky ones to see its 100th incarnation." she said proudly. "You have received the energy forms of your Servants. Tomorrow morning, they will have gained their humanoid forms and come to life. Get a good night's rest, for tomorrow is the first day of War. The sixteen of you will have to work very, very hard. I do not want to see any slacking." she said sharply. "If you should require any aid, return here and seek me out. I can give you anything you need, with a price. But before we begin, I am allowed to give you one gift." Simone rolled her sleeve up, revealing a device of some sort strapped to her wrist. She tapped it a few times and seemed to be typing something in to it. "You have received an equal amount of Mana, which you shall use at your own discretion. As you know, Mana is the currency for magic use in the War. Your initial banks will not be enough to sustain your magic for the entirety of the war, so I suggest you find a way to obtain more." Simone cleared her throat. "You will not only be fighting the other fifteen Masters, but several other enemies as well. There will be more magic-users, not Masters such as yourself, but those who wish to gain some notoriety or fame from slaying a Master. Kill them or spare them, I don't care. But do not humiliate me or this War by dying at their hands. You have been given too many advantages to die now. Besides yourselves and them, the only people remaining are the former residents of this town who have refused to leave. The Grail does not care if they are killed in the War. They received their warning. Do as you please with them, just don't make a mess." Simone looked at the Masters. "As your Proctor, I will tell you one last thing. No fighting for this one night. Once the sun rises, all is allowed. But if I see a single battle before sunrise, both participants will be converted to mana. So if you fight, you'll only be helping the others. Now, go find a place to set up in. You may make your new homes in the houses of former residents, or in public buildings, whichever you favor. Just be sure you can defend it. That is all."

[Eva]

As she wandered around the abandoned town, Clemence de Rousseau wondered what, exactly, the Proctor meant when she told them not to fight. Sure, she knew not to fight other Masters, but what about those interlopers? Had she done something to keep them at bay? Or had they not yet arrived? It mattered not. A Proctor was someone with absolute power in the Grail Wars; if she said there would be no fighting, Clemence knew there would be no fighting.

The Frenchgirl looked down at her arm, where a tattoo of sorts now was. It marked her, officially, as a Master. She was glad her Mark was not somewhere embarrassing, as she had heard happened to people in past Wars. No, the arm was just fine. The color of the mark was black, so she did not yet know exactly who she had summoned. Clemence stopped walking when she caught sight of a house. It was smaller than the ones she had seen before, so it stood out...the color was nice. Pale brown with yellow accents. This would be her place.

As soon as she entered the house, Clemence started to chant a spell. Of course, she realized how foolish this was. It would be a waste of magic, since no one would try to attack her at night. And by the time the sun rose, her Servant would be there. So no need for a Barrier V yet. With a giggle, she examined the house for a moment. A kitchen, living room, dining room- it was so typical. But that was fine.

Clemence walked up the stairs to the second floor and found the master bedroom easily. She threw the bag that she had taken with her- having been told by the Proctor that the rest of things would be transported to her chosen lodgings the next day- and flopped into the bed. Without even trying, she fell asleep. What a day.


"Eye axe offyue areyue maimashturr?"

"Eye axe off yue are yue mai mashturr?"

Clemence opened her eyes, which were bleary with fresh sleep. She saw a figure standing over her and she immediately bolted upright, her right hand glowing blue with a spell instantly at her tips. The man, though, merely stood there. After a few tense seconds, he opened his mouth.



"I ask of you: are you my master?" His eyes remained completely focused on hers, and hers on his. Slowly, Clemence nodded. The man's body instantly became less rigid and he relaxed. He even smiled. "What is your name, Master?" he asked. Clemence herself relaxed slightly and got out of bed. "I am Clemence. Beg my pardon, but what Class are you?" she asked bluntly. The man smirked. "I'm a Caster. A master spellcaster, at your service." he said. Clemence did not laugh. "Aren't Casters more...purple?" she asked. Caster himself shook his head. "I guess some of us are? I'm not, that's all I know." he replied. Clemence sighed and sat back down. "Are you going to be loyal to me?" she asked. Caster shrugged. "If you're a bitch, I might just have to incinerate you and find someone else to order me around." With that, he let out a laugh and gave her a powerful slap on the back, which knocked her off her bed. He looked embarrassed as he helped her up. "Sorry. When the only people you fight are made of iron, you tend to lose perspective on your strength." Clemence gave him a glare. She had been hoping for a more...silent Servant, and she would have vastly preferred a female. She did not work well with men, for whatever the value of the term applied to this Caster.

And she didn't much care for the color red, either.

Caster tossed Clemence her bag and walked over to the window. "You should get ready. The sun rose an hour ago. I bet someone else is already fighting."

[GnomesAteMyCake]

"Hey miss, don't forget you owe me!" the cabby growled angrily as the dark-haired woman stepped out of the taxi, a large bag slung over her shoulder. Snorting, Aislinn dug her hand into her pocket and handed the man two folded notes, and walked away without a word; it was more than the trip from the airport had costed, but it hardly mattered. She didn't know whether she'd be taking a plane back to Dublin, so what was the point in saving money?

She heard the squeal of tires as the cabby drove away, and the small town became silent apart from the sound of her footsteps. Aislinn was tired, more tired than she would ever admit to anyone, and was deperate to find the hotel that she'd be staying in for the remainder of the war. Reaching up to scratch her neck, Aislinn's fingers trailed across her new mark; the sign that she had successfully summoned a Servant, and that she was a Master. The mark trailed up the side of her neck and curled behind her ear. With her long hair, it was hard to see, which pleased her greatly.

"There," Aislinn muttered to herself, turning down a thin road where a battered house had a "Vacancy" sign hung in the window. Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, she shoved the door open. As expected, there were no signs of any other people with rooms, only an elderly woman stood behind the front desk.

"Hello, my dear!" she said brightly, flipping through a book on her desk and running her finger down it to a name scrawled in small letters. "Aislinn Quinn, yes?" A nod. "Such a pretty name. Where does it originate from?"

"Ireland," she answered softly, her accent evident to the elderly woman, who smiled warmly at the woman as she reached behind her to get her room key.
"How wonderful! What brings you to our sleepy town?"
"Business."
"It's a bit of a sleepy town to conduct any business, dear. What sort of business is it?"
"Family," Aislinn answered shortly, tapping her fingers on the desk and paperwork was filled out. The woman chuckled slightly to herself before looking up at her.
"Not much of a talker, eh?" Aislinn remained silent. "What's the matter?" the woman answered, her own voice becoming strained. "Cat got you're-"

The womans voice suddenly sounded strangled, the colour fading from her face as her mouth sagged, a slight moaning coming from her throat. Aislinn fought hard not to smile; instead, she reached across the desk, grabbed the key, and left her loopy signature on the woman's books.
"Thanks a lot for your help," she answered softly. The old woman made showed no sign of hearing her, her eyes on the hall mirror behind Aislinn's back. "Cat got your tongue?" she said softly, smirking, before looking over her shoulder. Her smile grew wider.

The mirror was large and old-fashioned, with guilded framing. Nothing spectacular...except what it was reflecting. Two white hands clung to the frame from the inside, the elbows popped out and a head lowered between two shoulder-blades, hair longer than Aislinns hanging lankly. It was like the mirror was a window with a woman leaning through into the hallway, her face hidden from view, the head cocked to the side at an almost painful angle.

You're getting good, Aislinn thought to herself, smirking at the woman. A low gasping sound floated across the hall, followed by a rattling intake of breath and a thump as the elderly woman fainted behind the counter. Though perhaps layering it on a bit thick. Come; we must prepare for the upcoming battle.

....Aibou. A dead sort for voice replied. Still making the same croaking noise, Aislinn's Servant sucked herself back through the mirror, her arms and wrists cracking as she seemed to simply fade from the reflective surface. Shaking her head slightly, Aislinn bounded up the stairs, looking for the room that she and her Servant would await the sunrise.

[Vale]

Lindsey had been one of the first 16 to finish his summoning, a strange feat that was no doubt. Magic wasn't one of the most common things in his lifestyle. Sure---he knew of it, dabbled a bit when he was younger, nothing spectacular, just enough to get by it seemed.

"Nevada, fuck." Lindsey could barely even fathom the fact that he'd be fighting for his life, or even the mere thought that he would possibly have to take a life. No, why would that happen? Surely these people had morals. ...right? Lindsey could barely even think of what would happen.
His mark however, was on the backs of his hands. It looked like it was divided in half, both complete when his hands were close to each other---index fingers and thumbs touching, making a triangle. Then the full "gift" was evident.
Moving at his slow pace, he had found his way to what appeared to be a metro station. The entrance to the station was above ground, but most of the tunnels were underneath, running around the very city. This would be a perfect place for him. If he needed to escape anywhere, he could be almost in any part of the city in a short amount of time. Perfect.

He began casting a slight spell, to make sure that anyone inside the tunnels already wouldn't be able to find him. It was a spell which reflected light in a small area. Nothing too fancy, and any Master of higher power would be able to find him, but not before their aura would alert him in time to escape. No, Lindsey knew better then that. "If you keep watch for the Giants, you'll be eaten by the ants." Lindsey needed his ants.
Morning came faster than Superman.
"My Maker." A strange, almost inhuman voice sounded through his sleep. "My Maker."
"Maker? Who? Me?" Lindsey slowly opened his eyes, cautious of what had happened. "Who are you?"

"I am a Defender. I am Your Defender. I am the Shield which shall Shelter You from Any and Every Blow."

'Shield' in hand, Lindsey was ready for what the dawn would bring.

[TragicAce]

My wife…she cheats on me.
–Leave her. –Hate her. –Divorce her. –Be rid of her.
My family…hates me.
–Let them. –Forget them. –Ignore them. –Hate them.
The people at work…laugh at me.
–Laugh at them. –Get even. –Get better. –Make them pay.
I’m just…not the man I once was.
–Change then. –Forget yourself. –Be him. –Become yourself.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I don’t know…
WHY ARE YOU HERE?
I don’t know…
WHY DID YOU COME?
I Don’t Know…
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
I DON’T KNOW!!!!

Grown men shouldn’t cry, so Jonathon ran instead. The forty-one year old accountant’s life was falling to pieces-NO!- he was just starting to realize how meager his life was. Accepting the shit everyone threw at him, letting them push him around like a ragdoll: they all take AND take AND take! He couldn’t allow-NO!-just couldn’t afford to be their mindless slave one second longer, to take orders from an ungrateful and unforgiving world. A world that despised him, cursed him, betrayed him…it was too much. This was too much.

“I won’t…I won’t take this anymore. I will...I must...BECOME A MASTER!!”

The broken man then spoke out onto to world, words passed on from his father’s father. The summoning incantation from his family’s line of mages. A creed only he now knew. “Hear my call spirits! Place thy flesh under my command and I will place my fate in thine sword; with the authority of the Holy Grail and your desire to comply, answer my call! I demand it: ANSWER ME!”

A deep silence came over the world, the quietness then bought in the darkness that so slowly but surely stole from the world of it's existence. The bonds of counciousness loosed and fell as the void started to take over. Jonathon went then into a deep, deep sleep. His last thought resounded in his mind:

"Please, please...somebody answer me."

--------------------------------



"Why do I doubt you've ever woken up to the voice of such a beautiful woman? I can't believe I got such a buffoon...*ahem*, you are my Master, I suppose?"

[Eva]

Through my life there is mana
Through my mana there is magic
Through my magic there is power
Through my power there is justice.
Through my justice, there is peace.
I shall find peace in the embrace of the Grail.


Sylvia ar-Rhaman calmly chanted the incantation over and over again. Her grail was not glowing yet, but it never did in the beginning. Sylvia did not doubt at all that she would summon her Servant. She had not detected any magical signatures as powerful as hers besides the Proctor's, and that was a given.

Sylvia did not know how long it had taken her to succeed her summoning, but it didn't feel like very long at all when her grail began to glow. She felt the sharp spike in magical energy go up, and it was the only she had felt.

She was the first.

Sylvia felt a strange sensation on her chest. She knew that her Mark was forming. With a content smirk, she stood up and left the room. Her Servant would find her once it was finished forming.



Sylvia was glad that this little town had a library. It was not huge, but it was large enough for her. Once she got inside, she sealed all of the doors with a powerful barrier spell, and while she was at it, she reinforced the windows. They'd have to make a loud noise to get in...and she slept light.

Sylvia made her way to the third floor, where a surprisingly nice glass window stood. It overlooked the west side of the town...it would do. She set her things down and then sat in her meditating pose. Tonight, she would rest. Sylvia closed her eyes and silently chanted again.

I shall find peace...


The sunset's light woke Sylvia up easily. She immediately sensed another presence in the library. "If you are trying to kill me, you are not doing a particularly good job at it." she said softly. She heard footsteps, light, but with some weight on them. A green glow surrounded Sylvia's hand. She stood up quickly, raising her hand into the air before bringing it down in a swift motion. A man, clad in armor, rose into the air and was slammed down. Sylvia ran over to the third floor railing and looked down at him. "I Command you, Servant, tell me your name." she shouted. The man stood up and glared at her, but he made no attempt to attack. The Command Spell had worked. "I am Lancer. I am...your Lancer." he said.



Sylvia smiled. "We have work to do." she said.

[Gafe]

Haneeve Aetos had his eyes closed. Although no wind blew inside the room, the mere flow of mana was enough to make his hair fly in circles before the cup. His arms were extended to each side, palms open and hands down. His posture was perfect, straight back, chin up and arms making a perfect 90° angle with his torso. He had practiced this before, of course. There would be no room for failures. There would be no failures.
His lips moved as he chanted the summoning spell. Or perhaps it was the other way around, as a chant continued his lips moved. No matter. The words came out fluently, rhythmically.

Serviteur, se posent et d'aider votre maître Saint-Siège en cette sainte guerre.

Je te demande, le ciel, le Serviteur de faire mine de sortir de ce Saint-Graal pour m'aider à cela, la guerre de maîtres et serviteurs, afin que je puisse satisfaire mes désirs et de mettre la dignité de mes prédécesseurs.

Serviteur, se posent et d'aider votre maître Saint-Siège en cette sainte guerre.

Being from once-colonized by France Algeria, he had been taught the summoning in French. And it worked.
He felt it within his own body at first, somewhere along his lower spine, ascending rapidly towards his neck. The air became denser, and it became much more troublesome to hold his arms in their position. His final sign came with the ignition of the cup that stood in front of him. It didn't light up in flames, strictly speaking, but it glowed with much intensity. Thw whole thing had taken less than he'd expected, and he wasn't really expecting much. Haneeve knew his summoning was complete and successful.

It was a bother having to wait for the other magicians to summon their Servants, but it sure was quite amusing feeling several fail. Nontheless, some time later they'd all been summoned by the Proctor to be informed of the no-fighting time period. He wasn't happy at such a rule, but it'd give his lesser colleagues little more time to live.


Outside, in the streets of White Pine, Nevada, Haneeve walked alongside a girl, some years younger than he, who'd been his penpal for some time. Though not a funny story, it was a long one and not one he'd be talking about anytime soon. "Frankly, Mac, I'm a little bit surprised at the amount of time it took you to summon." He wasn't scolding. He wasn't one to scold. He was, quite simply, just restating the facts.
No matter. They both knew and knew that they could rely on each other, at least until several other Masters were wiped out. Quite convenient, really, it was that they'd both been called for the same Holy Grail War. Between them, their lineage as magicians was no secret, and the news regarding the War came as a surprise to both. And now they each had one ally. Lucky, they were one step above the others.

Haneeve walked behind Mac into the building she'd so graciously chosen. She was the decision-maker more so than him. He wasn't into such kinds of responsibilities, and, thus far as he'd seen, she liked taking command. All the better. Inside the place he found a full-body mirror. He'd been searching for one, actually, as he had not been able to find his mark. It didn't worry him so much, Haneeve'd been sure of his summoning, especially since the Proctor had not teleported him back home. Indeed, his mark lay in his back, along the upper part of his right shoulder blade, good. Clothes would hide it well, just a small part of it showed up on his neck.
He went to sleep.

"Master? It's a little past sunrise."

A golden-haired girl with a bow stood before Haneeve."Archer."
Haneeve smirked, stood and walked over to Mac's room. After all, fights were sure to have begun.

[Aubs]

The whole time Mackenzie Blum-Deckler had supposedly been summoning her Servant she was so unsure as to whether she was doing it right or not. She wasn’t entirely sure if there was a true way to summon a Servant, but she was positive that whatever she was doing wasn’t it. Usually, new things came at amazingly fast to Mac but this was a whole different environment. Things weren’t the same as before. She felt extremely uncomfortable. Everything felt so wrong, so tense, and so unusual. She was out of touch for the first time in her life. How exactly did she get to this point anyway?

All her life, Mackenzie had known what she wanted. Unfortunately, things never came easily for her and her family, causing her to work for everything she had. She had to work for everything she wanted. When she was seven, she wanted art supplies and an easel but when her parents were unable to buy it she took matters into her own hands by getting a lemonade stand. When she was seventeen, she wanted her own car so she had to take the same tactics she used as a young girl. However, it wasn’t as easy as getting a lemonade stand. She had to get a job flipping hamburgers and frying fries. As unfortunate that it had been for her, she sucked it up and got through it. But while she was there she made the best of her opportunity by making sure she was the best at what she did. Mac always had to be the best. She pride herself in knowing she was the best. That was just how she was, a perfectionist. She couldn’t accept anything less. That was probably why she was having such a hard time with herself in the summoning session.
ugh.. Why can’t I do this? She panicked, beginning to get a tad bit nervous. It was eating her up inside of how long it was taking her. Why hadn’t she gotten a signal letting her know she’d succeeded? She probably needed to actually succeed to get that signal though which was why she wasn’t alarmed. Gah, this is seriously killing me! She thought, pursing her lips together in a pouting motion as her eyes glared at her grail and summoning circle. Making matters even worse, she was sure that she was one of the final ones to actually get contact from the grail. Holding her arms out, fingers extended as far as she could reach, she spoke the chant one last time.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For the first time in her life, Mackenzie had been on the brink of a mental break down. She couldn’t fathom why exactly for what reason she wasn’t able to have what she wanted. Especially when she was willing to work for it. She now understood why life hadn’t been fair. Why the Grail Wars weren’t fair. Why she wasn’t perfect in every aspect of her life.
“This sucks..” She silently mumbled under her breath. When she began to turn around, there was a slight purple-ish glow. A sparkle, have you. She felt a slight tingle feeling throughout her entire body, causing her to tense up even more. Was this summoning? Yep, it had to have been. As she watched her grail glow a bright in complete awe, she was quite happy with what she had achieved. She was still disappointed in how it had come about, but she was still pleased none the less.

After realizing she’d been one of the last magicians to summon, something that had knifed down her insides personally, she and all the others were then summoned by the Procter, who gave all of them an assortment of guidelines [the number one rule of the day being no fighting until the day had ended]. Everyone left as well as Mac and an acquaintance of her’s, Haneeve Aetos, a pen pal. The two strolled down the sidewalk of the near abandoned town. She looked over at him, he had been walking rather confidently as he’d been one of the first to summon, which made her sigh to herself in annoyance. They’d talked about magic and the like in their many letters to each other before, but she hadn’t expected him to be so talented in it.
“Frankly Mac,” He spoke, sounding surprisingly condescending though she was sure he hadn’t meant it that way. A soft wind blew at their backs as they continued to walk down the sidewalk. Mac kept silent to listen to the rest of his statement. “I’m a bit surprised at the amount of time it took you to summon.” He wasn’t the only one! Mac was too, for that matter.
“Dude, tell me about it..” She vented. “It seemed like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life and when you guys were done in seconds it seemed--” The wind startled her as it brushed up against her back, knocking her plait braid over her shoulder. “Pretty gust-y out here today. Anyway, as I was saying- It seemed like you guys were pros and I was a mere novice. So embarrassing, I swear.. Never in my life have I been so nervous and disappointed at failure.” She was especially hard on herself, but she was positive Han had known what she had meant by her statements. He was right, it was surprising how long it had taken her to summon. I guess I could use someone as truthful as he is though, she gathered in her mind. I’m going to need an ally I can trust in and I trust Haneeve. I’m going to need him and he’s going to need me- Despite my minor hiccup earlier. We’re all each other has for the time being.

“Any ideas on where you’d want to stay?” Mac asked, to which Han gave a nonchalant shrug in response. “Hm. I guess I’ll pick one then! Come on, let’s go down this street. The houses down this way seem pretty nice. Maybe we can find the perfect one down here?” She inquired, taking command of the situation. Whenever problems arisen, it was a part of her nature to be the person to lead through. Even when times were bad and she eventually ended up making a horrible decision. She wouldn’t had been herself if she hadn’t taken over. “That’s it, it’s perfect!” Mackenzie gushed, standing out in what seemed like a deserted suburban neighborhood of White Pine. The house the two had been in front of was one of the most gorgeous houses Mac had seen in her life. It was so architectural.



“Yep- this is definitely the place we’re going to be staying at! Come on!” She demanded, rushing to run inside the house to marvel at all its wonders. She didn’t realize how obvious it would make them in the long run, she was more concerned with the beauty of the place. More than likely, they would be able to put a barrier on if they were in danger later on. Now was the time for excitement! There were at least a few more hours until the day would be over.
She was so busy roaming throughout her new house that she hadn’t even noticed the purple mark on her wrist. In fact, it hadn’t been until she was washing her hands after using the restroom that she had saw it. “Oh wow!” She said happily, as she stared down at it. She walked out of the room and down the hallway to Haneeve’s room to show him only to see him soundly asleep in his bed. “I guess I’ll show him tomorrow when he wakes up..” She left the room and proceeded to walk to her own bedroom. “Gosh, only seven o’clock and Han is sleeping like a baby. Guess I’ll go to sleep too” She sighed, lifting the covers over her body and going to sleep.

The next morning, Mac got dressed and began to walk to her kitchen to prepare breakfast for the morning. “What was up with me yesterday? I was so horrible I don’t even-” She paused, as the sight of a figure in front of her, outside the window, startled her. WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?! She looked and saw a rather handsome man, half-dressed, standing outside of the window. She was about to begin questioning as to who the person was, when her wrist glowed a purple hue. Mac quickly ran outside the front door to where the man stood. Normally, she wouldn’t have done so but something on an impulse had told her to. She didn’t resist. Could this have been the person she thought it was?

“Hello,” the man spoke, standing strong and regal like, almost similar to a royal Prince or King. “Master.”
Mac was on the brink of freaking out. Was this really happening?! She was filled with so many emotions, mostly excitement though. “Oh my god, this is seriously not real right now is it?” She asked aloud, although she hadn’t meant to.
“Real as ever,” the man responded, sticking his hand out to shake. “And who do I have the honors of serving under? Your name, miss?”
“OH, uh.. I’m Mackenzie- But I’d rather you call me Mac instead. And I would prefer you don’t call me Master, it seems uber creepy. For some reason, I don’t know why though..” She was so flustered. This was so new to her. “Come- come inside, we can- We can talk in the house!” She proposed, walking ahead to walk into her home.
“As you wish.”

Mac and her Servant sat down on the couch to talk more. Well, Mac was the only one who had actually sat down on the couch while her Servant had towered over right next to it. The shining sun outside peaked through the windows, hitting both of them in the faces some. He's just so perfect. “So-“
“So?”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Mac had spoken again. “So- what do I call you?”
The man smirked. “You may call me, Rider. But I am impartial to anything you so decide to call me.”
“Rider? Is that your real name?” She asked out of sheer curiosity.
“It is not.” Rider calmly stated, wanting to avoid the subject. “If it is fine with you, I’d rather we not discuss that at this time,” He insisted, his brown eyes piercing Mackenzie’s being.
Mac wanted to go on, she wanted to pester him until he told her but she didn’t. She wanted to show him some respect. “Okay, that’s fine. Rider it is then!” She slowly swiped a piece of her bangs out of her eyes before she continued. “I’m so glad you’re here. I really could use the company. My friend, Han, he’s asleep in the back and that’s such a drag. But not that you’re here I have someone to talk to!” She happily smiled. “You hungry or anything, I was thinking about maybe going in the kitchen and fixing something to eat. I’m starved!” She patted the fluffy tulle fabric emerging outside of her skirt [since she’d been sitting down] and stood up. Hmm.. Maybe he's more nervous than he looks? After Rider hadn’t spoken, she figured he had been hungry and wasn’t going to tell her so causing her to grab his hand and pull him into the kitchen herself. “You should tell me when you’re hungry, because more than likely, I probably am too! I cook great breakfast!”

She prepared a full meal for the two of them and Haneeve, once he’d woken up. After talking to Rider and picking his brain some, as well as giving him details about her life thus far, Mac glanced over at the clock. It was almost 8 AM. “Wow, it’s still pretty early in the morning. I didn’t think I’d wake up so early in the morning, considering how tired of was yesterday. Good thing I got rest though, don’tcha think?”

Rider didn't respond. Was this the company she'd hoped for?

The twosome left the kitchen and was nearing the living room when Mac noticed an envelope taped on the front window, outside the house. “I wonder what it is?” She inquired, not speaking to anyone in particular but since Rider was in the room he was the only one to have heard besides her.
Grabbing the brown envelope, Mackenzie realized it had been addressed to her. Her body became stiff. “It’s for me,” she spoke to Rider, nervousness all over her face. “I’m kind of scared.”
“Don’t worry,” Rider began confidently. “I’m here to protect you. Open it.”
Mac sighed and proceeded to open the envelope. Although she’d only been with Rider for a few hours at least, she was sure he was telling the truth. She wasn’t positive enough as to whether she trusted him but she could tell he was being truthful. Scanning the paper, Mac’s mouth opened agape. “Oh my god, it’s from the Proctor. She has a favor for us.” She was so unsure as to whether they should take the offer. This was weird for her. The note had said she’d offer Mac any resources needed. Re-reading the note once more, aloud this time to Rider, Mac still hadn’t grasped whether or not this was something she wanted to do.

The sound of footsteps ended their silence, as Haneeve [who had just walked out of Mac’s room to find her] and his Servant.

Rider quickly moved over and stood in front of Mac, doing his job as protector.

“Morning, Haneeve! It’s quite lovely outside today! I prepared break-” she caught the sight of Han’s Servant. She was beautiful. For once, Mac was lost for words.

[GnomesAteMyCake]

The light of morning woke Aislinn from her dreams, none of which were perticularly nice. Stretching, she lowly sat up, leaning forward as she rubbed her face. What had that dream been about? He had maybe been in it... but there had been a shadow on the edges of her dreams, holding the horror back.

Horror holding back horror, she thought sourly to herself as she saw the small lantern on a chest of drawers; the form her Berserker took when not in her humanoid form. She couldn't spend all her time floating around scaring the living hell out of people, could she?

Kicking the thin sheets back, Aislinn staggered to the window and parted the curtains, squinting as light assulted her eyes. As shabby as the hotel was, it had a nice view going for it; a large and barren park, trees planted along the road, shading the street from the suns rays, which at the moment were still relitively weak. Mist covered the grass, sending a shiver up Aislinn's spine; yes, she could believe that a magical battle would take place in this sleepy town over the next few days. Although the sun had obviously only risen, the fight may have already started, possible targets already losing and making her journey for the Grail even easier.

Turning from the window and dressing swiftly in a pair of black jeans, dark purple t-shirt and a jacket, Aislinn grasped the handle of the iron lantern and swept from the room. A feeling of irritation laced up her arm from the lantern. Clearly, she'd woken up her partner.
As she closed her hand on the doorknob, A flashing from her bedside table that she hadn't noticed before captured her eyes. Stomping over, she picked up her phone and flipped it open, pressing buttons to open the message that was titled to have come from 'The Proctor.'
"Hmm..." she hummed to herself, biting her lip as she read the message. "Looks like we've got a job already, partner. You interested?" she muttered quietly, looking down at the lantern in her hand. The Spirit held a dignified silence. Rolling her eyes but saying nothing, Aislinn slid her phone into her pocket and exited the room.

"I apologise for waking you, Berserker," she thought as she took the stairs two at a time, smiling widely at the lady who owned the hotel (who definately wasn't as chatty as the day before) and walking out into the brisk morning. "But the sun has risen; let us find the other Masters and gage our competition. We should also keep an eye out for this 'Wu' person., I suppose..."

"...If you wish it, Aibou," A whispering voice echoed in her mind. Swinging the glowing lantern, Aislinn smiled grimly to herself. She wasn't sure when the the other Masters were instructed to summon their Servants, but circumstances had her attempting the summoning ritual a day before she should have. Luckily the summoning went well...unluckily the summoning went well, Aislinn wasn't sure which way to look at it.
Her Servant was...different from any legends she'd read about the Spirits that usually presented themselves. But she could feel the strength and pent-up rage inside the Berserker through their mind-link... a good fit for her, then.

Aislinn walked for an hour or so, the sun rising properly and dismissing the early morning chill. A wind whipped her hair away from her face, revealing the Master's Mark on her neck as she turned onto a street lined by modern buildings. Aislinn looked over them with disinterest; a house was a house, did it matter what it looked like as long as it kept rain out?

A shock flashed through her mind, not from her Servant, but from an outside source. Okay, maybe this street wasn't so boring. Aislinn lifted her head, eyes narrowing as she looked down the street, trying to pinpoint where the feeling came from, almost like it was a fire and turning her face to it she'd be able to feel the heat. It was a silly idea, but since she'd never come across another Master, trying the basics at first seemed like a good idea. If it was a Master, that is.

Gripping the handle of her Berserker's lantern (she could feel the Servant coiled like a spring inside, ready to spill out and cause havoc at a word), Aislinn walked slowly down the street, her limited magical powers extended in every direction to detect the soruce of the magic that was greater than her own. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Her irritation grew as she went further and further down the road, not feeling the same flicker as before.

"Aibou, I can...help you, if you wish it," her Berserker said suddenly, sounding as if the last thing she wanted to do was offer help. Smirking, Aislinn swung the lantern, feeling a worm of anger directed at her wriggle up her arm.
"If you like," Aislinn, trying to sound uninterested. It was a funny system, the two of them had. Aislinn had read that Servants had to follow their Masters, no questions asked. Her Berserker, however, seemed to have missed the memo in the hundred years or so since she was last summoned; her Servant had only showed contempt and in some cases over the past day or so, anger at her Master. Clearly she wasn't a spirit that liked being tied to someone else.

The lantern rattled in her grip as the small glass window on the front opened with a tiny creak, a small amount of black, oil-like water dripped from it to create a puddle. Two hands appeared out of the puddle as her Berserker crawled out, her hair hanging in her face despite the wind. Aislinn tapped her foot, trying to look unimpressed although the sight creeped her out good and proper.

"Do you have to do that?" she snapped, holding the lantern out to the woman as she rose to her feet. A feeling of amusement bounced across their mind-link as the Berserker took the lantern and turned to stagger down the street.

"Yes. I will find the source for you, Aibou, as it appears you are too useless to do it yourself." Snorting, Aislinn crossed her arms across her chest and followed the Servant, her eyes peeled for any signs of other Masters...and also on her partner, who had an annoying habit of slipping into the shadows and becoming one herself as she raced along the sides of buildings and across the road.

"Pfft. Showoff."

[Vale]

Lindsey had woken up, and to no surprise his Servant was standing vigil, it didn't appear that it needed to sleep.
"Are you tired, Uh...Silvery? Golemn-y?" Lindsey tried asking his servant as to break the early morning silence between the two.

I exist to serve you sir. Never will anything harm you, so long as I am here. The Massive Silver Golemn spoke, his voice fierce---yet peaceful.
"That's a relief, and here I had thought something bad was going to happen." Lindsey jokingly smiled to the silver golemn. "Do you happen to have a name, Defender?"
I had a name once. But a name is merely a way to address something or some one. Humans do not name tables or tools, so therefore I require no name, Master.
"But what if I want to name you?"
Then I shall have a name once again, and will go by that for as long as I exist.

Lindsey thought about something, then lost his train of thought and noticed a small piece of paper, seemingly left on the side of the tracks.
"What is that? Is that....a note?"
Yes Master, it is from The Proctor.
"What does it say?"

We are to find The Golemn stopped mid sentence.

Lindsey quickly looked around, throwing back up the reflective light spell.


Something, or someone else was in the tunnels. It didn't have a strong enough Magical Pressure to be a Master....but it was something. Something Lindsey and his Golemn could sense. Something which didn't want them there.

---Defender, stay on guard.---Lindsey thought spoke to his Creation.

[Eva]

Sylvia ar-Rhaman had wasted no time after waking up. She assigned her Lancer to patrol the area around the library while she cobbled together the necessary mana to perform the cumbersome spells she had to cast. Having such massive magical presence herself, Sylvia was able to detect most other spiritual pressure, and she felt a great deal of it nearby. Well, not so much nearby, but whatever. "Return to me, my Servant." Sylvia said softly. In seconds, Lancer was by her side. Sylvia stood up, breaking her meditation. "I have located the source of the magical pressure. It's too large to be one person, though, so we shan't go in there with obviously hostile intent. We must be subtle."

And subtlety meant outright avoiding public areas. From the library, the duo ran behind empty buildings, and buildings that were not empty but not bothersome either, to their destination. They did not bother to keep quiet, as anyone who posed a threat would be able to sense them from a mile away- Sylvia's magical pressure did not lend well to sneaking anyway.

"What an ugly place." Sylvia scoffed upon seeing the rows of houses that made up the suburbs. "Let's do what we must and move on. I'm nauseated." She followed her senses, and she could tell that she was nearing the source of the power. A regal-looking house, not bad. Sylvia casually walked up to the door and knocked on it. Lancer stood in next to her, weapon at the ready in case things went south.

[TragicAce]

His heart stopped, his pulse raced and his pants…tightened. It was morning! A completely healthy and natural occurrence! Never-never mind that! Regardless the direction of his blood circulation Jonathon was without words. It was not just that his mouth had dried but his mind had numbed. Standing before him was such a presence, such a display of feminine beauty that the middle-aged accountant’s wildest fantasies never could have prepared him for. He wasn’t even expecting to receive a Servant! He was expecting to have failed and be sent home. Then he could live with himself, carrying out the rest of his days in contentment knowing that he had at least tried. That’s what he wanted. An easy way out.

“My patience grows thin…perhaps you are not capable of speech?” The sultry female Servant did nothing to hide her displeasure of the current situation. She had sought for a Master strong of will and spirit-the cowering man in need of a shave in front of her inspired little confidence of either quality. After a long moment Jonathon’s good sense returned to him in a rush that caused his cheeks to burn a blazing red. Realizing that he had been staring and that this wasn’t a dream he immediately looked towards the ground and avoided eye contact.

“I don’t…I mean how can I…it’s not possible…” Mumbling more to himself then anyone, Jonathon shook his head at such an outrageous thought. Even being associated with someone like her…that’s for some celebrity, some famous mage, some…someone else. Lost in his self doubt he failed to notice that the woman had approached him. Indeed, she was quite close. Invading his personal space bubble, even. Hell his wife doesn’t even do that these days. Taking the initiative a slender and unbelievable smooth hand took hold of the Master’s chin. The sensation of her touch caused Jonathon to vocally gulp from unease. But this was such a wonderful uneasiness. The disquieting sensation that you could so easily lose yourself in.

“If you are my Master,” -Jonathon’s eyes were now forced to stare deep into her own- “be proud enough a man to look me in the eyes when I speak to you.” Spiteful words were nothing new to Mr. Barnes, but coming from her…they cut him deeper than any blade ever could. So he kept his gaze on her, as much as his mind and body were trying to pull him away. Those beautiful eyes…those beautiful obsidian eyes. Something in them spurred the coward onward, giving him a kind of courage he didn’t think he had. Courage enough to speak and think clearly for the moment, anyway.

After clearing his throat he finally found his tongue. “My name is Jonathon, pleased to…pleased to meet you.” Very slowly did he remove his chin from the palm of her hand, as if fearful that any sudden movement might set her off. After he had composed himself as best he could, he continued. “If I am a Master, there should be some kind of tattoo. At least that’s how I think it’s supposed to work.” Jonathon frowned as he looked on his arms and legs to no avail. His sexy comrade gave an over-exaggerated sigh and before he knew it, he was shirtless. “WHA-?!” Before he could cover himself (which was a rather silly thought, given his gender) the Servant had already made quick inspection. “I don’t see a mark…” Jonathon’s fears consumed him. "But didn't I want this? To be refused, to be able to go home? To go back to a normal, safe life? Why am I so afraid?!"

This was the inevitable outcome. Defeat and disappointment. Because that's just who he was: Jonathon Barnes, a man who’s known for falling short and giving in. A man who never amounts to anything. A man who lets the world pass him by. A man who…is getting groped by the sexiest woman alive?! Jonathon lost complete perception of the world when he looked down to see she had unzipped his pants and was proceeding to pull down his briefs. All logic stopped. His brain had just processed a fact that could never be real as truth. Anything made more sense than what was happening right now.

“There’s but one place left to check.” She gave a playful giggle that threw Jonathon’s mind into an even faster spin. In one fell swoop all was exposed and the least of the accountant’s thoughts were on the draftiness he now felt. Such shame was enough to kill a man. Indeed, Jonathon wanted to be killed. Especially when the sexiest woman on the planet falls back rolling on the ground in laughter after looking at your junk. Yeah, that’ll make a man real insecure. Real insecure.

“HahaHAhahaha-I can’t-hAHAhaha-believe it!” Taking in a breath the Servant continued “This is so rich! Your mark is-hahaHAhaha!”

Jonathon looked down. Sure enough, it was there.

[Shorik]

Most of the individuals trying to summon a Servant for the Grail Wars had some incantation, chant, or mystic gesture they were applying. Seth Mikor stood in front of his grail saying nothing, nor making any sort of movement, with his eyes closed. He really didn't know about magic, so he was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. He could only imagine a Servant appearing from the Grail, while the same thought echoed through his mind.

I must succeed! I will not have this chance.. This opportunity taken from me! I have lost enough already....

Soon enough, Seth felt a burning feeling upon his face, though it subsided just as qucikly as it appeared. The young man opened his eyes to see his grail emmiting a blue light. This must have meant he succeded...

Indeed, he had, as he was in the group of sixteen that had been presented to the Proctor. After listening to the instructions, Seth left the building, in search of a place to use as his own. As he walked down the streets, he came across the city's mall. It was average sized, as far as malls go, which was still plenty of room. seth thought about it for a moment. The mall was a large space, which would give him many places to hide, if need be. Also, the stores would have many useful things for him. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Seth walked over to one of the glass doors, and caught sight of his reflection. He noticed a tattoo of sorts had appeared the left side of his face. From what he had heard, all Masters recieved these marks, though where they would appeared varied form person to person.
I suppose it could be somewhere worse...

The young man then opened the door, and entered the mall. It was very quiet.. almost to the point of creepy. Looking around him, Seth saw a Store directory a few feet in front of him. He consulted it, and went into the dollar store to his left. There, he grabbed a pad of paper, and some pencils. He went back to the directory, and drew out the map of the mall, marking down important locations.
Maybe I should set up camp, and get ready for tommorow...

Seth headed over to the Sears store, and went to the second level, where there were beds on display, along with armoires. The young man found a bed within sight of the escalator, and layed down. He had forgotten how soft a proper bed felt, and he drifted to sleep almost immediately.

Upon waking, Seth was a bit alarmed to see a slender woman with long, straight brown hair, wearing a long white dress standing near his bed. She had fair skin, and deep blue eyes.
"Do not panic, Master." the woman said, "You are in no danger."
"Master?" Seth said, "Then that would mean... You're my.. Servant?"
The woman nodded.
She looks so much like her...
Avoiding eye contact with his Servant, Seth reached for the laptop he had been given by the Proctor. Turning it on, he began searching for information.
"Master, if I may ask.." the woman said, "What should we do? It is morning, and the war has started."
"Give me a moment.." Seth said, still avoiding eye contact, "I need to do soemthing first..."

[kipponoui]

Anita stared into her grail, the shallow silver cup reflecting only her distorted image. “Ooh, I know she’ll be a sveet young vooman…” the old lady spoke, her soft voice thick with a German accent.
“ Aufwach, aufwach mein Kind. Die Zeit für roten Regenschauer ist hier.” she spoke, smiling. Despite her sweet smile, her voice was so coated in mana it held no softness. It was a Command, not a Summoning—this was her Servant, and it was time for her Servant to arise.
The cup did nothing. Anita sat back in her wheelchair, her smile never fading. She felt it beginning; it was only a matter of time before her Command was answered. Saturated with time as she was, Anita had begun to feel and appreciate every passing second; indeed, not many had passed before her grail began to glow with increasing intensity. Twisting her chair around, Anita wheeled herself out of the room.

---

“Awaken, fool. Come and serve your Master.”
It was a long time. Alexander knew it, after all the impatience he had to put up with his grandmother. Oh, she was dear to him, but really; calm your ass down, if you haven’t finished your life when your life is finished with you then tough shit. He didn’t really mind, though. Alexander was patient—he needed to be, if he was ever going to bring anything to fruition. People were stupid, and it took them time to walk into the waiting traps that they had spun for themselves.
“I said awaken.” A few minutes passed; nothing.
Alexander stared at the grail before him, focusing on sending his mana to it. “Rise, Servant; your Master Summons.” The grail ignited in a flash of white—finally—then immediately faded back to its shining silver. “You wear my patience, Servant—I Summon thee.” He clenched his body in concentration, forcing every ounce of mana he had into the calling.
Nothing.
He hung his head, thinking of how he was going to tell Grandmother he had failed. Of course, he could just not tell her; she’d find out on her own, in due time. But then, what if something were to happen, and he wasn’t around?

The grail sparked to life. Relief washed over Alexander, his entire body relaxing a little more. He stood up, walking over to the door. His hand touched the polished handle; immediately, the light he had been bathed in vanished. Alexander turned, anger flashing across his face. He strode over to the grail, staring at it from his six-foot height. “ARISE.”
The grail once more burst into silver light, though it was cold against Alexander’s lightly tanned skin. He towered over the glowing cup, feeding mana into the Summoning until he felt a tingling sensation along his back. That must be the Mark… Alexander turned once more, getting to no more than a foot from the door when the Grail when dark a second time. The tingling stopped.
Already thinned patience finally snapped. Turning, Alexander grabbed the stupid cup and threw it against the wall, as hard as he could. “Wake up, damn you!” The grail made contact with the wall, and shattered into an innumerable amount of tiny pieces. The man stared in shock; for such a magical instrument, that was surprisingly weak. The tingling resumed, however; Alexander, confused, left the room anyways.
As the door quietly clicked behind the man, the shards of grail glowed softly, vanishing. In the center of the room, glowing softly, remained a whole, unflawed grail.

---

Shortly after the Proctor’s speech, Anita found herself outside with her grandson, Alexander. “Your Summoning took kvuite a vile, Alex. Eez everytheeng okay?” Anita asked, her voice sweet and her smile innocent.
“Yes, Grandmother. Everything is well; thank you for asking.”
“Gut, I vould hate to zink zere eez sumzing bozzering my Alex.” Her eyes closed in a gentle grandmother-like smile. “But now, ve need to find a place to rest hour eyes… Alex, do me a favor, and help granmammy vind a place to sleep?” Alexander sighed, but nevertheless began pushing his grandmother’s wheelchair.


They had been walking for about 10 minutes, filled with the occasional “Vould you like a hard candy?” “No, thank you grandmother.” “How many times have I told you to call me granmammy?” “Sorry, grandmother.” The rest of the journey was filled only with the soft sound of knitting needles clicking together.
“Is here okay, grandmother?” Alexander asked, stopping front of a ranch-style suburban home. The garden was filled with prim roses and hedges. It reminded Alexander of his grandmother’s ho—
“Oh, it iz perfect Alex! Reminds me of home. Oh, how beautiful…” Anita spoke. Alexander couldn’t help but smile at how easily pleased his grandmother could be. “Vell, hurry up! Take me inside!” The smile faded.
Once inside, Anita made a dash to the kitchen—well, as much of a dash as her wheelchair would allow. “Damn, zis place has such tiny hallways. Whoever lived here did not eat enough.” She burst into the kitchen, exploring the place. A soft eggshell paint had been placed on the walls, with a border coated in apples defining the wall’s top. Similarly designed tableware adorned the small wooden table that looked to seat no more than 2. A gas oven and stove, toaster, fridge, microwave filled the remainder of the small kitchen; Anita sneered in disgust at the last appliance. “Lazy.”

A small protest caught Anita’s attention; old her ears may be, but her still keen hearing could pick up the ‘Bitch!’ muttered from a cupboard behind her. “Vell, vell, vell…” Anita muttered, wheeling her chair over to the cupboard door. “Alexander!” she called to her grandson, who had found his way to the surplus-sized plasma television homed in the room next to the kitchen. Almost instantly, he appeared in the open doorway; grandmother did not like to be kept waiting. “It appears ve are not een an empty house. Do granmammy a favour, mein Kind, and open zis door for me?”
Alexander rolled his eyes, knowing full well that no wooden-shutter door could keep his grandmother out, but opened the door nonetheless. A small woman shrieked, cowering on the floor behind her frail arms.
‘Hush, hush, mein Kind. Vy do you scream? If ve vere going to kill you, ve vould have done so already. Ve do not vaste our time.” The woman shook her head.
“No!” she said, her thin voice coated in a Vietnamese accent. She peeked out from under her arm.“You are bad people!”
“Mein Kind, do I look like a bad vooman to you?” To prove her point, Anita shifted her old wrinkles into a smile so authentic only a grandmother could produce it. “And zis ist just my grandson, Alex. Do not mind him, he ist just a young man, angry as zey tend to come.” She shifted her sight up to her grandson’s face, beaming. “But he ist mein Kind, and he ist too kind.”
“You are bad people!” the small Vietnamese woman said again, carefully forming each word on her lips. Her eyes shifted between the two intruders nervously.
Anita scowled. “Very vell zen, you may sleep hier for die Nacht. Gut Nacht, mein Kind. Gut Nacht.” Her scowl replaced itself with another smile as she grabbed the side of the door and, taking the frail wooden piece from her grandson’s grip, closed the cupboard. “Einschließ.[/i]” The door, despite not having a lock on it, clicked softly.
The old woman’s scowl once again took over her face as the door began rattling, followed by helpless shrieks from the poor Vietnamese woman. “I vill never sleep wiss all of zat racket. Erstick.” Though the door continued to rattle in its place, the noise instantly fell. “Vell zen, mein Kind,” she looked back up at Alexander, “ist time for granmammy to bake. Go, relax yourself, you have worked hard to Summon today. And granmammy ist proud of her Kind, who vilt have Summoned a powerful beastie indeed.”
Alexander returned to his spot of relaxation on the couch, while Anita turned about to bake until the sun went down.

[Eva]

Clemence flicked another page and began to read once more. She sat on the bed of the house that she had taken over, her personal items having arrived during her sleep. They'd been on the first floor, and were rather heavy. Luckily she had Caster around to get it.

Speaking of which, the newly summoned Servant was busy with his own project. He had been ordered to improve the protections on the base, due to the fact that defensive spells were so simple for him that they barely lost any mana for the powerful ones. In fact, it was so easy that it was...utterly boring. Caster stole a look over at his Master and let out a loud sigh. Her eyebrow flicked up for a second, but besides that she remained totally focused on her reading.

If Caster wasn't so bored, he wouldn't have noticed the very subtle signal that would save them both. It was small. Just a tiny speck of the barrier had gone inactive, and only for a second. Normally, that wouldn't be alarming at all. But Caster felt a downright crushing magical presence. Someone that powerful would be able to teleport through a hole the size of a molecule. "Our base has been compromised." Caster shouted, bolting upright. He clutched his staff and opened the bedroom door.

Downstairs was...quiet. Caster looked back at his Master. She was still sitting on the bed, but was no longer reading. She was completely still and silent. Then, a loud crash. Caster felt the barrier being ruptured completely, this time anything but subtle. More people were coming through...fortunately, all were fairly pathetic in terms of magical pressure. But the first one...

One of the invaders came into view and started climbing up the stairs. Caster waved his wand casually, setting the woman on fire. Clemence jumped off the bed and stood behind him. "What are we going to do?" she asked. "Let them bottleneck themselves like this. It'll be easy." he replied, just as two more got themselves burned for their troubles. "Whoever got them in here is laying low. But with that much pressure, they won't stay hidden for long."