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[JHYMERS]

((Sorry for the delay in reply, got busy unexpectedly.))

Astrid peeks out from the behind Rider, trying to get a good look at Caster. "Are you seriously making friends with an enemy servant?"

Rider whispers back to his master "He is obviously well versed in magic. He may be of use for now." Astrid sighs, "Fine, you're the expert."

Rider returns his attention to the robed servant, "Caster, I will cut to the chase, as the saying goes. I am not strong enough to win this war on my own, and neither are you I'd wager. We have a connection to each other for some reason unknown to me. Perhaps we are related somehow. I propose an alliance, for now, until we have a better understanding of the meaning of this."

Rider eyes the man. Trying to discern his thoughts.
"If you refuse, I will allow you to leave unharmed, this one time. But when we next meet, it would be as enemies."

[Stirk]

Hug Bolg

Bolg is hugged! The whimpering fades from the fuzzy creature, making both of you feel much better.

However the glare continues, only increasing in intensity as you approach the center of the lake. It feels like a warning: Leave. Now.

You are about to reach the center of the lake, were the prana output is highest.

[Lenglon]

"Come out and talk please. We aren't here to fight."
It's clear that we're being monitored, lets see how they choose to handle being directly addressed.

[The Ensorceler]

Archer stops rowing and lets one oar drag in the water to turn the boat around so he can face the light.

[Stirk]

Archer/Master

As Archer turns the boat around, the ripples from the maneuver start to increase in intensity.

A figure slowly emerges from the lake, a beautiful young woman, around 15 feet in front of your boat.

She is apparently Native American, with dark-colored skin, black hair, and darker eyes. Fortunately, she seems to be in civilian clothing- a simple green skirt. Each of her ears posses a well-crafted jade earring, matching the jade bracelets on her otherwise bare arms. Her long hair was tied behind her in a pony tail, kept together by a cotton band. Currently, her bare feat stand on the water without causing any further ripples. The light of the city is at her back, in the far distance.

A voice as clear as the lake responds:
"You are trespassing on sacred territory. If it was my decision alone, you would have been slain already. Turn back and never return."

[Lenglon]

I look at Archer and wait for his answer, staying beside the comforting presence of Bolg.

[MCipher]

((My apologies for this late reply!))

Caster looks baffled for a moment, before smiling.
”Indeed, I am incapable of winning this war on my own. I feel an alliance is the best - if not only - feasible choice, strategically.”
Caster extends his hand.
”I do believe we have a deal?”

[The Ensorceler]

Archer rows away, and not slowly. As he takes the boat away, he apologizes, raising his voice to cross the increasing distance."I am deeply sorry to have tresspassed against you and yours. We will leave. There will be others who seek power here, I am afraid, but should I see them first, I will tell them not to come."

[Stirk]

Archer/Master

The woman says nothing, simply watching as you row away. Once you get a fair distance she vanishes into the lake. The pressure that you felt before is nearly gone.

[Lenglon]

Return home.

[The Ensorceler]

Archer travels with Faye, also returning home.

[Lenglon]

"So wha'd you think of that?"

[Stirk]

Archer/Master

The road home was normal.

Behind you.

At least for the night.

Something is.

You still didn't encounter any people on the walk back.

Not right.

Empty streets, empty sidewalks.

They're watching.

In a town you have known your entire life, it wasn't hard to choose a fast path either.

Swarming.

All the lights where off, too. The stars above sure look pretty.

Like countless maggots.

But still.

wHy dOeS iT FeeL lIKe sOMEthING is wRONg?

No, its not right, its not right, its not right, its not right, its not right, its not right, its not right.

This town used to have a nightlife. Nobody has questioned the empty streets so far. It was useful even. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

But Archer and his master soon found reason to question it. Once again they felt like they where being followed. No matter where they went in the town, it felt like someone unseen was watching them.

Now they came upon a pile of corpses in the street. Bad condition. Unidentifiable as male or female, or even human. Closed casket. They where not there before. Fresh blood is everywhere. Splattered like paint.

The cause is still nearby. You can hear them cocking their guns. Behind you. Three "men". You can tell they arn't human. They arn't Servants either. Two have Tommy-guns. One has an m1911. They are wearing modern cloths, fashionable but generic enough that it would be hard to pick them out of a crowd. Blue jeans, T shirt, and jacket.

Archer is faster than them. This was a warning, not an ambush.

((Plan C for revitalizing the game: Kick the NPC's Aggressiveness up! Like I planned from the beginning! You both get to attack before your opponents do.))

[The Ensorceler]

Behind us, have to draw fire away from Faye. Archer jumps up, spinning in midair to get a good look at the gunmen. Two tracking me, good. Not good enough. "Protect yourself!" Before he lands, Archer's sword is drawn: a plain, whitish shortsword, all hard edges and flat surfaces. He lands low to the ground, sword-arm outstretched, legs and off-hand bundled beneath him. A sprinter's stance. Have to make this clean. A splinter of a second later, he dives forwards again, directly past the middle gunman this time, the one still aiming at Faye. A flash, not quite of steel, and the outstretched arm is severed at the elbow. The pistol and hand drop with a thud, still together. ¡Dios mío! The other two followed through all that? At least Faye would be ready this time.

Disable the pistol-wielder and buy time for Faye to act without being shot. ((I don't remember if I have to spend Prana to attack with a Noble Phantasm weapon...))

@Anyone who looked at the sword with the note: I noticed the description was wrong when I checked to see which one I still had. The sword is not bland and mostly featureless, but an almost cast-iron looking black longsword, scarred with dull brown and orange rust. Because someone looked closely, they also notice the rust forms stylized flames down the length of the blade, highly unusual if this weren't obviously a Noble Phantasm.

[Stirk]

((Sorry if I got the description wrong, I'm trying to work with what you give me and had horrible bookkeeping with everyone's sheets >_>.

Attacking with an NP weapon doesn't cost any prana, but it will only activate passive effects if no prana is spent. The NP's damage is considered an active effect.

Also yay! We finally got a fight in! We have at least one accomplishment! This game can die happy.))

Spurts of blood quickly follow the man's hand to the ground, as if the attack had burst a pipe within him. Along with it flowed prana at an astonishing rate.

With its remaining arm, it tried to reclaim its weapon. It bent down and opened its own cold-dead hand. It grasped the gun in its remaining hand, now dirty with its own blood.

It then collapsed like a puppet who had its strings cut, its remaining limbs bent in odd directions like a smooshed spider. In a moment, it was gone. It evaporated into gold particles, down to its weapon. Bloodstains are all that remain.

((Master's turn!))