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Breaking News: Murder at Hogwarts!.

Current Story: Breaking the Board, Nevermore

Field Aspects: Crumbling Ground, Killer Fog, Animated Corpses


25518, *Mr Heartland : He ate nothing spectacular or extravagant as he did in the States. The usually extravagant peacock of a man known as Mr. Heartland visited a local restaurant for something so simple as udon noodles and yakitori. He had not been properly home since he was deployed from his home first to Germany, then to France, where he ultimately died. A hundred years ago? The food was just as he remembered it and somehow vastly superior to thousand dollar meals he had eaten overseas.

Here too he was dressed simply, no sign of his normal flashy suits. Some might recognize him if they were in tune to foreign affairs, or knew of his underworld namesake, but otherwise he was nothing more than a face in the crowd, one of thousands.

Could he still not be himself here, he wondered?

Heartland put down his chopsticks, paying generously for the simple meal and bowing as he did so, like he was a completely different man. With that he gave his thanks for the meal and stepped out into the street, disappearing among the many, as though here he was no one of great importance.

Just another face in the crowd.
25518, *Mr Heartland : "Of course you may! Consult whomever you might, however I do have other issues to attend to, both in the homeland and without. My main reason of stay is to enjoy a proper meal - not what America has to offer, certainly - and spend a little time on my own at a local Shinto shrine. I trust I might find you here again before I leave? Or of course..."

As was customary he had a business card for each of them, printed in Japanese though most of it katakana for "Heartland" along with several phone numbers with which to get in contact with him. Losing the two boys would be disappointing but there were always more he could accept willingly into the fold, especially with his plans for Heartland Tower. He did have a good feeling about Ryu, however.

Something about him seemed useful, in a way he couldn't quite describe yet.
83bdc, *Jacob Williams : My apologies then, Mr. Heartland Sama, sometimes the honorifics slip my mind **He'd focus on the picture for a moment, taking note that Heartland seemed to be nothing more then a humanized peacock, or a brightly colored creature who's underlying nature only signaled danger and were infact venomous to those around it, and though it was stated he could trust the older man with anything, he wasn't so sure of that, especially with Ryu there, unsure if his fellow student was aware of people with abilities or not**
cc489, *Hamato R : Ok, on the one hand it was a little impressive. Like most, Ryu had a crush on the singer and while it was kind of neat as it sunk in? There was something else...Something weird.

It was a feeling he got every so often, something his grandfather tried to help him realize. He called it a beginners mastery of chi and cool as it was, there were times it'd react if he listened to it.

Like right now as he considered and then bowed politely.

"This is indeed an overwhelming bit of news. Forgive my rudeness Heartland-sama. But may I consider this offer with my guardian before giving my answer?"
25518, *Mr Heartland : "It's -sama," he corrected very quickly, his smile faltering. He hesitated a moment before he let his anger get the better of him, sighed out gently and then the smile was back in full force.

"Of course, of course, I understand your reluctance, and you are free to say 'no' if you wish. But as you can see, I'm a bit of a popular fellow in New York City, in America. Helping others is what I love to do - it's why I took the name I did!"

As if to prove this point he fished out his wallet - actually producing it magically from his sleeve when he dug into his pockets - and produced a picture of one of his orphanages. He showed it to Jacob as well: it pictured about thirty children of varying ages posing in front of what was apparently a reconstructed youth recreation center. Mr. Heartland stood with them waving, albeit wearing a suit that looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. To the opposite side of him, of all people, was Taylor Swift, who most of the children seemed to swarm around. This was a mundane picture that did not move, as he didn't know how clued in these two were.

"You're right to be suspicious of strangers, but I, dear boys, am no stranger. I'm a friend, the kind of person you can trust anything with."
83bdc, *Jacob Williams : **He'd keep his suspicious thoughts to himself over the sudden, random offer Heartland gave to Ryu** That's quite the offer, especially to a stranger, no offense Mr. Heartland **He'd then look at Ryu** I don't know, he doesn't seem like the type to have a white van
cc489, *Hamato R : He looked at Heartland blankly, a bit unsure before he started looking around. Back and forth, observing the alleyway and Heartland himself before he said flatly.

"I don't see a video camera. Weird. Look..Heartland-san. I appreciate the offer, but I'm kind of small potatoes and aside from being beat up, still aren't sure why you'd even do it."

He eyed the suit, realizing he was late before adding with a quirked eyebrow. "Besides, no offense but any moment I'm expecting a white van and a promise of candy to boot. It sounds too good to be true."
25518, *Mr Heartland : Heartland, of course, made note of everything. Neither fluent in the other's language, it'd make things easier. This second boy didn't seem like much, but Heartland had an eye for magic in others, so this Jacob might suit him well too.

"Wonderful to meet you both. Ryu-san, I may not look it, but I too come from America - as an immigrant of course - but I do have a wonderful training academy abroad for highly gifted youth such as yourself. I understand we've just met, but your devotion to your friends touches my burning heart, and I would be honored to offer you a full scholarship. And as a bit of good faith, I personally can make sure those horrid bullies never bother anyone at your school again. When I was younger I too had a bit of trouble with bullies; I learned a thing or two myself.

He winked and smiled; paying off the kids' parents would have been reason enough to have the children behaving properly, but Heartland probably had other plans. Funner plans.
83bdc, *Jacob Williams : **He'd smile, more amused then anything on Ryu's attempt to speak english, so he'd switch to Japanese to make it easier on him, even if he still did have a bit of an accent and messed up a little on the wording** Well, as long as it wasn't that serious then, but it is nice to meet you both, I am Jacob **He'd bow his head a bit too, since it was a custom here and he wanted to be polite**
cc489, *Hamato R : Oh, it was the albino.

....That wasn't a nice thing to think, even on the inside of his head and he frowned inwardly. He knew this person too...Somehow. He snuck a glance and tried to remember before finally snapping his fingers.

"Aha! You're the American?" He refrained from using the G-word, considering current company. He then gestured to himself as he said in perfect english.

"I roll in wall today!"

...Ok, maybe not that perfect. To Heartlands request, he gave a small bow of his head, properity observed.

"Hamato. Hamato Ryu."
25518, *Mr Heartland : "Exactly. You're thinking small-scale. Tell me your name, boy. Myself, I go by Heartland-sama." A bit fancy with the honorifics on himself, but he did give a slight bow as greeting.

To the newcomer he waved the issue off quickly, the cogs in his head already in motion. "Just a little conflict our friend here got into, nothing too serious, thankfully."
83bdc, *Jacob Williams : **Leaving the apartment he lived in while his parents were away on business trips, he'd open the umbrella he had to keep the sun off his skin as he heads for school, e had hoped it would've been cloudy instead today, so he wouldn't have needed the item itself, but he couldn't control the weather even if such a thought was nice, he did have a couple of abilities nonetheless that he kept under wraps, even from his parents...it wouldn't do to make them wary or have them fear him as a result, as he goes along, he'd take note of the people up ahead, one of which he recognized as a fellow student, and he did keep up on world news, so recognizing who Heartland was wasn't all that difficult, indecisiveness came to him briefly, before he'd approach, taking note that his fellow student seemed to have been roughed up, from the way he was trying to fix himself up** Ah...good morning, is everything okay?
cc489, *Hamato R : He snorted in amusement as he cracked his neck and began stretching. As he fixed himself up, he responded with a drawl. "Maybe if the whole office thing doesn't pan out. At least I'll have a fallback." At the question, he shrugged once.

"What about them? Not their problem. And maybe I fight, but then they come with more folks and they start going after others. Being sneaky, that kind of thing. There's a pecking order here and honestly, it's kid stuff. I'm not gonna be here forever!"
25518, *Mr Heartland : "Are you training to become a makiwara, then?" he asked, apparently not impressed by the art of sacrifice. As a mage he was not particularly keen on physical training, however meta-humans also fell into the category of those he harbored. Heartland had a diverse portfolio when it came to manipulating. The boy was not yet 20, therefore, vulnerable.

He smiled like he was a man who had an answer for everything. "There are better ways to rid yourself of a problem than as a punching bag, boy. Several dozen, off the top of my head. What of your family, or theirs?"

The question slipped in so innocuously yet every word that escaped his mouth had meaning and reason to it. If one had their guard down, it would be so easy to become trapped in his natural charisma and disarming nature.
cc489, *Hamato R : There was a brief moment as he held up a hand, in the universal motion for 'one second.' He then proceeded to snap his nose back into place, then to get up in that order. As he cleaned himself up, Heartland would get a better look.

He was a short boy. Five feet, six inches give or take. Still growing, but already somewhat trained if his unconscious posture was any indication. He stood centered, his stance in that of the horse as he responded.

"It's either me or my friend. I throw a punch, they go after him. Or others I know." He shrugged as he finally looked at Heartland, his red tie loosened and his uniform bedraggled as he grinned. In english, he added.

"Besides, he punches like a wuss."
25518, *Mr Heartland : The old land always drew him back, eventually, even though he'd forged his immigration papers long ago. Fake as the rest of him, a passport gave him free reign, and his reasons for coming back were likely not for the kinds of things people would expect of him.

Mr. Heartland dressed down in Japan, still fully suited in expensive and hand-tailored Versace, but not the usual bright colors and patterns he typically wore. The sting of being considered okama was one that still bit him hard. Despite that the area felt like home: his native language, traditional meals, though much had changed in nearly 100 years. He'd have to bring Pegasus-kun down for a brief spell; he knew he needed to get back to the War before he was missed, but a brief stop by one of the Shinto shrines wouldn't take him too much time.

Unfortunately for his schedule, he caught sight of what might be an opportunity.

Passively, Heartland watched the events play out, with little intention of interfering or assisting either side. When all was said and done there was Ryu, who he studied with more interest than a man his age should be to anyone under the age of 18 - male or female - though not for any lecherous intent.

When the other boys had cleared out he finally spoke aloud, in Japanese which sounded much more formal and less... free of expression than he was in English, "Child, you allow them to pester you when you obviously have the means to fight back. That is the behavior of an abused animal: a dog hit with a newspaper yet reluctant to growl or bite. What sort of man does that make you?"
cc489, *Hamato R : He had the dream again.

For about a month now, it was the same thing. A Shrine somewhere in the mountains, a lake and a waterfall. He's barefoot then, clad in an old uniform he'd never wear again. It disturbs him a little how right it feels, how much some part of him misses it. And then from out of the darkness it comes-no, not it...Him.

Clad in a black version of his own outfit, wearing a mocking smirk he'd given in the past to others, knowing how much it'd infuriate them. Those gleaming yellow eyes...Oni eyes, grandfather called them.

And just before the first punch was thrown he'd wake up.

There was no shrine. That was out in the country and certainly had no freaky kind of twin. He'd exchange his old clothing for a school uniform, a somber affair in black and white. He wore a necktie, as bright red as he could manage. But somehow, looking himself in the mirror, he had the inkling that he had just become one of those worn down businessmen types who wear colorful ties or weird socks if only to prove there was a person there.

He shuddered. High school and already going through a midlife crisis. As if he didn't have enough of that going around. He took another sharp glance in the mirror, grabbed his bag and was swiftly gone. Surely it'd be a nice day, if only by the laws of averages?

Some time later..

It was not, he mulled to himself inwardly as another punch in his stomach made him almost heave. Three delinquents...Bullies, all of them made it a point to pick on him. He noted mentally that he really needed to use his shoulder more, before they started talking.

"C'mon lizard. Give us a squeal? This gets boring otherwise!"

He said nothing. It was the wrong course of action apparently as he got punched in the face. His nose cracked and he fell to the ground, kicked once in the ribs as he gasped. It was enough for them apparently as they chuckled.

"See you later, Lizard!"

And as they left, the boy huffed out and laid there.

Yeah...Definitely not one of his better days.
25518, *Mr Heartland : "This is quite the development project you have planned, Mr. Heartland," the woman said, flipping through a large stack of papers. Both were dressed formally She smiled at him, pleasant and genuine, and he smiled back, in exact opposite fashion.

"Which is why I knew you were just the woman for the job, Mrs. Corcoran!" Heartland responded, sipping tea with her idly in an upscale Manhattan cafe. Both were well-known enough in New York to organize such a meeting, and it was easy for him to slip between the business in Ruined London and his affairs in New York through Barian World. And there was an important reason he needed this project started while most of the major players in the area had their eyes on the Grail War. "I know it's a handful of properties to acquire at once but you of all people know I have the funds for it, and something terribly altruistic in mind."

Barbara nodded, simply a mundane in real estate who happened to think of Mr. Heartland as a terribly benevolent mayor (and quite the fashionista). "I'm sure it'll be no trouble at all to get the property deeds you need, but can I ask: why is it you're suddenly interested in a large plot of land in the middle of Manhattan?"

Heartland chuckled affably. "I'll fill you in dear: I've been funding the construction of small orphanages throughout the city, but my poor heart realized it would just never be enough. The solution? Why, building vertically, of course! A brand new skyscraper to redefine New York: a home for the homeless, education from the best teachers I can provide, and care for the destitute. Heartland Tower will become a new icon for the American Dream. As mayor it's my goal to change this city, and this beautiful new landmark here..."

He smiled and laid down the architectural design work for a massive building marked at its top with a giant heart. The sheer size of it alone would rival that of the Empire State Building.

"...This will truly be the start of a grand future for us all."
86639, *Saber Of Black : Most people, when confronted with a horrifying inhuman figure giggling and charging at them with a scythe, would turn and run screaming in fear. Most people...were not Ser Mordred Pendragon, son and heir to the King of Knights. He stood firm, a confident grin on his face. As the scythe swung down at him, it was not his sword Clarent that rose to meet it, but rather an armored gauntlet seeking to catch it with hardened armor. The blow pierced through and drew blood, but that was acceptable. He would just have to give more punishment to the pumpkin shrimp in return.

With the bleeding hand, Mordred grabbed the scythe more firmly to yank Sam closer and impale him straight through with his sword. But that was not all, if the maneuver succeeded, as immediately following that, lightning burst from the tip of the blade, aiming to burn all of Sam's innards while the blade was in there.
5e227, *Sam : Ripping the blade from the decaying ground, Sam tilted his head to the side. As if musing over Mordred’s words before another giggle escaped his mouth. So the enemy servant didn’t care for his laughter did they?
Well, too bad for them! Sprinting forwards as the ground around them continued to collapse, Sam raised his scythe and attempted to swing it down towards Mordred, the blade glowing with the same spectral orange glow as the exposed pumpkin esque ‘skin’ on Sam’s person pulsated and writhed with power.

"HISSSSSSSS!!!"
86639, *Saber Of Black : ...With each passing second, the thing masquerading as a servant only grew more and more grotesque. Just looking at it was an affront to the eyes, and more than that, the smell rolling off the thing in putrid waves? It was more than enough to make those of weak constitution gag and vomit. But what was most offensive was that despite his attempts to silence the thing for good...all it kept doing was laughing! And that, above all else, pissed Ser Mordred off. The knight scowled but remained unmoving as the ground between them burned.

"Am I supposed to be frightened? You're about as scary as a bunny rabbit. No, lemme tell you, there's only two things you are. Annoying...and soon to be dead."
5e227, *Sam : ”I don’t NEED to be careful. This ignorant whelp is NOTHING to-“

Sam was knocked back by the sudden charge and as soon as his feet touched upon the ground, he quickly jumped from side to side and stumbled back, a confused screech escaping from his mouth. The slashes hit home, slicing across his chest, his left arm and his head.

”Grrrr!!”

Before the next swipe connected, it became clear to Mordred that it struck nothing but air. The flaming pumpkins had gone dim, smoke flowing away from the burned husks as Sam stood atop a nearby roof and clutched at some of the pumpkin seeds that were falling out of the gash on his chest. His body heaved up and down with anger practically boiling throughout him. His eyes narrowed, and he bared his fangs and reared back his head only to notice something. The glob of what had once been in his throat was no longer there. Likely having been swallowed without Sam realizing it This…this filthy sweaty mongrel not only injured him but made him WASTE his candy! That was an unforgiveable SIN!

“Nghh…Grrrrgh….Aghhhh!!!”

Stomping his left foot up and down, the rooftop below said foot cracked and the entire building seemed to shake as if an earthquake was rumbling in the area. He wouldn’t stand for this! He wanted to spit his dissolving magically enchanted candy mush at his enemy!! But as Sam saw the pumpkin seeds falling from the wound on his head, a lightbulb flickered atop his head.

“…!”

Clenching his right hand into a fist, Sam pulled it back before smashing himself in the stomach. His eyes went wide and his knees trembled but instead of a shocked or pained expression, his face had twisted into a devilish little grin as he held his scythe close to his mouth.

“Blegh!”

What he had been spitting at Mordred came back up in a terrible way. Dropping out of Sam’s mouth onto the blade of his scythe, it dissipated leaving the blade’s edge jagged and resembling Sam’s lollipop all while adorned in the traditional Halloween orange. Sam’s scythe wasn’t the only thing to make a transformation, however. His wounds began closing themselves as he pulled his mask down atop his head. The godling’s body cracked and contorted as he grew in height to better look down at his opponent, his eye shooting pure unfiltered hatred towards the knight.
The flesh exposed beneath his pajamas was just as equally inhuman as his true face. Bright orange skin, seeming to resemble the thick skin of a pumpkin rather than any kind of normal human being. Raising the scythe above his head, Sam let loose another mad cackle before leaping from the building and swinging his scythe downwards. As it’s blade punctured the ground below, another rumble was heard before the smell of sweets and treats mixed in with a horrible blend of death and disease assaulted Mordred’s senses as the ground in the direction of the scythe’s blade began to crumble and break apart almost as if it was melting away. Just like a fine chocolate bar in a young trick r treater’s mouth….or acid burning away the flesh of an unfortunate victim….

”HAHAHAHAHAH!”
1e4a3, *Adrian Thorne : **He'd wince as he watches the fight through the eyes of his servant, though he wasn't sure how much magic he actually had to support Lancer without needing a good deal of rest, but he'd allow Lancer to take what he needed without draining him to the point of exhaustion, at the mental message, he'd proceed to respond** I understand, but remain careful as well, please?
86639, *Saber Of Black : "..." Why the shrimpkin felt like having an intermission snack of his own blades was beyond Mordred. Such ridiculous hubris, to not only redirect his blast but also stop in the middle of a fight for a little snack! Ser Mordred would have seethed in anger...except there was a greater affront. That foul smell reached even his nose and he grimaced at it even behind his helmet. "Do you think you can--"

Whatever else was about to be said went unfinished, as the filthy shorty spat out. Mordred didn't know what the hell was in that but both the smell and his Instinct skill told him to get out of the way. Which he did, narrowly avoiding the foul spit as it hit the pavement. It burned right through almost on contact, which got Mordred to raise an eyebrow as he glanced at it before lifting his gaze back to Sam and steeling his face.

"So you're as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside. Tch. Just do me and the world a favor then and DIE ALREADY!" Mordred bellowed, dashing forward to strike out with a frenzied series of slices from Clarent.
5e227, *Sam : It was as Mordred spoke that Sam realized the kind of opponent he was facing. To whoever was behind the armor, he was little more than a monster that needed to be exterminated. A fair enough assumption to most but while he wasn’t on to brag, Sam saw himself higher than that. The god of Halloween, a great spirit to some Native American tribes, and the enforcer of the Halloween traditions. Without him there’d be no order and without him? There’d be no proper Halloween!

As the main bolt of lightning came soaring towards him, Sam extended his left hand towards it and the bolt began to slow down as Sam’s arm shook and trembled. He had no problems with his telekinesis most of the time but the power this other servant wielded was far stronger than Sam had anticipated. While he had no doubts in his mind that he could regenerate from it but he was annoyed by his opponent’s massive lack of respect. They didn’t deserve him at his best.

“SCREEEEEEEEEE!!!”

Throwing his hand off to the side, the lightning diverted and crashed right into the side of a nearby building. Looking back towards Mordred, Sam’s attire returned to normal and he touched down upon the ground clad in his footy pajamas once more. His eyes narrowed, Sam threw a handful of candy-all clad with blades-in his mouth and started to chew. As he didn’t have blood like a human or even like Mordred, the thick foul-smelling gunk clad with pumpkin seeds began to drip out of the corners of his mouth as he grinned, seemingly ignorant of whatever potential pain he was causing himself.

Rearing back his head, Sam spit out a wad of the disgusting mix of pumpkin innards/candy in Mordred’s direction. Whether or not he blocked it or dodged it, the effect was clear as the gunk/spittle landed. Smoke hissed from it and began to burn through wherever it had landed.

“Hisssss!!!!!”

Communicating with his master through their own link, Sam made his intentions clear.”I won’t be disrespected. Not by anyone. I don’t care if they’re stronger than me. Halloween flows through me! I won’t be stopped by someone so ignorant!”
57232, ºThe Narrator : This was bad.

Assassin of Red could hear the clashes ongoing, but his current problem was here. Assassin's by their nature were devious servants, but in the Legend of London where their stories took fertile root? That was a whole mess of worms, though he counted his blessings.

This could have been happening in Whitechapel and he turned and parried a blade with an open palm, as the Ripper giggled and fled through the fog. All around, her voice echoed in amused confusion.

"What kind of knight fights with their bare hands?"

"One who wins." Retorted Assassin of Red before he called via the mental link.

"Master. I'm unable to observe the fight between Lancer of Red and his opponent. Though I'm certain he's clashing with Saber. Assassin is preventing me from helping him though. Orders?"
86639, *Saber Of Black : "...Eugh!" The knight exclaimed at the sight of the weird crap staining her blade. That wasn't blood, it was just nasty weird shit! But that could not compare to the sight of the thing's face. If Mordred's face showed any signs of disgust, it was hidden behind his helmet, but the tone of his voice made the disgust plain for all.

"A monster such as you...the world would be grateful to have you gone from it." Mordred smiled. "Sucks to be you. It was my duty to rid the world of dark mages and monsters." Clarent was hefted up, tip of the blade pointing at the oncoming daggers and Sam himself. "And I was damned good at it."

Another blast of lightning shot forth from the blade, just as massive as before if not more so. As it soared through the air, crackles of lightning split off from the main blast and intercepted the small blades, knocking them off course, but the brunt of the power still remained on track to strike the laughing mad Sam.
5e227, *Sam : Oooh, that was unexpected!

The sword hit it’s mark and cut a gash across Sam’s torso and once sent him flying across the street. Crashing into the ground, candy bars flew out of his pajama’s pockets and pumpkin seeds and gunk coated Mordred’s blade. Sam laid prone on his back, seemingly none the worse for wear despite the pumpkin seeds spilling out of his chest wound.

He’d been mutilated before, this was no big deal truth be told. The insults aside (goblin, did this person even have the slightest idea of who he was?? He was way stronger and more important than a goblin!) Hopping back onto his feet, Sam reached up to his mask and pulled it off and snapping his fingers, his bag of treats and tricks appeared behind him. Throwing his mask in, Sam’s true face was revealed.

If one was crude it’s likely they’d say his face definitely resembled a mix of a baby and a pumpkin and that was NOT a compliment! Baring his fangs, a swirl of black magic coated Sam’s person as his body twisted and contorted as he became much taller and his arms extended into a length more befitting for an adult. All the while his pajamas were overtaken and obscured by a cloak, identical to the one most people associated with the Grim Reaper. The scythe had changed as well with Sam, taking on a more devilish-pumpkin like theme rather than a seemingly ‘normal’ looking scythe.

Holding the scythe with one hand, Sam turned his others towards the candy bars that had scattered across the street. The blades ripped themselves free of the chocolate and found themselves telekinetically hurled towards Mordred with Sam blasting off behind them, cackling madly as he swung his scythe like a madman.

“HAHAHAHAHA!”
86639, *Saber Of Black : "You gotta be kidding." Mordred growled in disbelief as the tiny fool pulled out candy bars. Even the reveal of them actually being blades left Mordred miming a yawn...though as soon as they came in, the knight treated them seriously...by batting them aside with deft swings of Clarent. "Is that truly the depths of your--" The tap on the back got Mordred to swivel in an instant and as Sam leapt back, he found he didn't gain as much room as he thought. A quick mana burst from Mordred had the knight right there alongside the diminutive sackhead, a swing of the sword coming in before Sam had even landed back on his feet. "You annoying bastard."
5e227, *Sam : As the scythe’s blade was met by Saber’s own, Sam let out a dismissive hiss of his own. He looked child-like and he wished to act as such but he’d been around the block long enough to see plenty of sword wielders. Most were dimwitted brutes and Sam had no reason to believe this one didn’t fit that same description. As the punch came in, Sam let out a curious coo before-

*WHAM*

The punch sent him away from Mordred and bouncing across the pavement before his skidding came to a stop. Kicking his feet in the air to signify that he hadn’t been knocked out, Sam hopped back to his feet and ran his hands along his makeshift mask to see if it was okay. Which it was for the most part except for a corner that’d been ripped off by the force of Mordred’s punch, revealing Sam’s left eye and a little bit of just how inhuman he looked behind the mask. With bright orange skin like the pumpkins he cherished, Sam narrowed his eyes and hopped from one foot to the other.

“Hehe…”

Reaching into his left pocket, Sam pulled out some more candy bars he’d been stowing away on his person. They normally would have just been a snack but the situation had changed. The candy burned in his hand and as he closed his palm over it, he’d open it once more to reveal a series of razor blades laying where the candy had been.

Looking towards Mordred, Sam began flicking said blades towards Mordred faster than any human made gun could manage. Moving to her right, he continued the attack and then using his great speed, he moved behind her and even went as far as to tap on her back before jumping back, giggling all the while.

“Ooh!~”

He’d admit that this armored man likely had him bested in raw strength but he had speed and what was a better tool to aid in wearing your opponent down if they couldn’t get a hold of you?
86639, *Saber Of Black : "Hnh." Mordred grunted in pure dismissal at the approaching...well, to call that pumpkin shrimp a threat was giving the little guy too much credit. That is not to say he let the would-be assailant strike freely. The blade rose to meet the scythe with a metallic clang, keeping it at bay.


And a punch with his free hand followed right after. "Shut the hell up, you cackling goblin."
5e227, *Sam : Sam didn’t give much thought to entities who served similar purposes as him. Like those of good ol Saint Nick or the Easter Bunny(well, let’s leave what Sam did to him between us shall we?) They did their thing and Sam did his and unfortunate as it was, most of the time he usually chose to ‘depart’ from this mortal world by returning to the pumpkin patch where he’d been birthed and simply for lack of a better term, die, once the holidays were over.

Though on some occasions he stuck around longer than was needed to meddle in a few other joyous occasions. Such as Father’s day, the aforementioned Easter and Christmas! But while he made sure not to step too much on the toes of others within his weight class, Sam wasn’t afraid to give out punishment where he felt it was due. The view he’d gotten from one of his pumpkins before it suddenly went black solidified that feeling. Leaping to the side and landing on all fours like an animal, Sam accordingly let out an inhuman hiss, spittle staining the interior of his mask, his eyes aglow with rage and a heavy need to punish this rulebreaker.

Rising to his feet, Sam watched as the pumpkins that he had scattered around had their insides burst into flames. A warning sign to those that Sam had personally chosen to punish rather then let one of his minions (be they werewolves, zombies, serial killers and the like)do the heavy lifting for him. Drawing his half-eaten lollipop from his pocket, an orange glow circled the candy treat as it gave way to it’s true form of Sam’s scythe.
At the same time, the expressions along the pumpkins had changed starkly. No longer were there expressions of sadistic glee but rather a wicked mimicry of what appeared to be none other than the Grim Reaper itself. Sam’s shadow also gave off such an image, seeming much larger and menacing than his child form currently did.

“Hehehehe…”

Sprinting forward, both fighters illuminated by the flames glowing from Sam’s pumpkins, Sam dragged the scythe’s blade along the ground before leaping at Mordred, scythe blade brought downwards to try and cleave right through that armor like a can opener.

”HEHEHEHEHE!”
57232, ºThe Narrator : Assassin of Red burst into action, rolling to the side as a blade began to crackle as he moved as though to draw.

Though before he could do so, a dagger swung out of the shadows and was deflected on his gauntlet as Assassin of Black giggled, the mists drawn in to consume them.

"Play with me!"

The first clash had begun and the Assassins took off down the bridge.

Leaving Saber of Black and Lancer of Red to fight one another.
86639, *Saber Of Black : "Jeez. Talk talk talk talk talk. If all your side is good for is talking somebody's ear off and-" The annoyed voice echoing out suddenly shifted, accompanied by a few snickers. "-taking out scarecrows and planting pumpkins, then this will be quite a short war. Almost takes the fun out of it." For a few moments it was unclear where the voice was emanating from, the servant staying within spirit form. That is, until one such pumpkin was able to discern a heavily armored figure suddenly appear before it. The figure gave a few seconds for the pumpkin eyes to see him in full before a metal boot squashed it all to hell.

Purposefully. Sneaking around was for the weak, not for a knight. A large sword raised into the air, crimson light gathering in the air around it and reflecting off the knight's armor and helm. Between the inhuman look of the armor and the ominous red light, it was quite a sight. But not one seen for long, as the blade was leveled to point at the group of enemy servants and masters and a massive blast of lightning surged forward for them all. "Almost...but not quite."
5e227, *Sam : “Hisssss….”

If the strangely shaped head that certainly didn’t seem human wasn’t enough of a giveaway, there was that almost reptilian hiss that escaped past Sam’s lips and hit the cool air. He’d clearly been expecting something more of a spectacle when he’d cut one of the scarecrows down. Making his way over and looking over the downed scarecrow, he was less than impressed. Though he appreciated the sack cloth. He could relate to that choice in attire.

At the mention of the scarecrow being an enforcer, Sam gave a curious coo in response. He considered himself well informed but only on matters that actually mattered to him and what he cared about. Which meant that as he was concerned, this was simply a spiffy looking scarecrow and little more than that.

As the servant’s masters spoke among eachother, the pumpkin that Sam had left behind turned it’s frown up into a devilish grin once more as the fire within it lit itself once more. Drawing his half-eaten lollipop from within his bag, Sam saddled the corpse mocked up as a scarecrow and jabbed the jagged corner of the candy into it’s throat.

” All of the pumpkins I’ve had scattered around are authentic. Born from the same patch as me. They serve the same function as they would on Halloween. They’re my eyes and ears and I can tell who blows them out and if it’s done at the right time and if somebody breaks the rules. BUT…If I were to turn something into a jack’o lantern one would reason that it’d become just as legitimate. Halloween has traditions that need to be upheld to the letter but I’m not a stickler for how one decorates or gets their decorations.”

The implication here of course being that Sam would happily turn this poor deceased Enforcer’s head into a hollowed out Jack’o lantern. If given the time anyhow. In the meantime, the pumpkins that he had left behind him and Assassin as they moved to help watch their backs incase the enemy tried a sneak attack continued to swivel back and forth…

”Let me see if the others have seen anything…”
1e4a3, *Adrian Thorne : Funny, I would've thought I was non-magical for the rest of my life if I wasn't here, seeing all this shit....no offense, but it's crazy to think there's all this just going on beneath our noses, and it's fine for an info dump, the sooner I learn these things, the more help I can be
5e0fc, *Dennis Macfield : "Enforcers are kinda like police for the Clocktower. Kinda. No-maj - that's non-magical people - have the BRPD, the Foundation, stuff like that, the Church has Executors - like Lucifer, he's with us, the one dressed like a priest - sticks have aurors, and the Clocktower has Enforcers. Different names, different groups, kind of similar in what they do. Sorry if that was an info dump on you there.

It's just unusual to see them here, specifically. I haven't heard of any aurors coming to watch the war or anything like that."
1e4a3, *Adrian Thorne : A trap? Well, I suppose anything is possible **He'd continue watching through his servant's eyes as the scarecrow is cut down, feeling some sense of confusion over the choice in clothing** Scarecrows aren't usually that well dressed, right? And what are Enforcers? **He'd then look back at the pumpkin near them** Lancer, can you try to see anyone else where you and the other servant are? Through your pumpkins at least
5e0fc, *Dennis Macfield : "Enforcers?" He didn't quite know what that meant in terms of their current situation. "Either way this seems like the work of an Assassin, maybe. Please be careful," Dennis warned his partner, knowing the message would be passed on to Lancer. It was hard to think of Assassin as simply a tool; he felt more like they were partners. Not friends - Assassin didn't seem to think of Dennis as such - but certainly as his own person.

"Can Lancer see through the scarecrows like he can the pumpkins? It's kind of... Halloween-like."
57232, ºThe Narrator : The blade sliced through the rope, the scarecrow falling to the ground with a clatter.

Made up of formerly fashionable clothing, stuffed with crow feathers. It's face was sack cloth, painted over with bleeding smiles. A closer examination however...

Assassin of Red leaned forward and then frowned.

"Master. These clothings-they're Enforcer Garb."

Assassin of Red frowned beneath his helm as he looked up more closely.

"What are the Enforcers doing down here?"
5e227, *Sam : ((*Pretty though**))
5e227, *Sam : “Ooh~”

Scarecrows were lovely little decorations that a creature like Sam cherished ever so much. Although it’d not been the case when they were originally concocted, they had become a Halloween staple. Saddled in corn fields always watching and leaving those who saw them wondering if they were watching back. Sam didn’t know who exactly they were fighting as in how they looked and minor details like that but he could certainly respect their aesthetic taste.

” Scarecrows are typically meant in displays like these to serve as tools of intimidation, a sign of things to come if the warning that comes with them is not needed. These ones are very though. I like them.” Sam responded, mentally of course. He’d never speak aloud if he didn’t have to.

Glancing back at the crows, Sam gave them a small demure wave. Crows were often seen as guides for restless souls who still had unfinished business left in the world of the living. It wasn’t Sam’s place to prevent such things and so for the most part Sam and the corvids generally existed in harmony. Unless of course one was to done then Sam would happily poke it with a stick, who wouldn’t?

” They could also be this servant’s way of greeting whoever may be pursuing them, meaning us of course. Which means it’s quite possible they’re likely a trap as well. I’m curious as to which it is…” Dropping his bag on the ground behind him, Sam reached inside and brought out the chocolate bar that had the razor blade embedded within it that he’d used to spook his master earlier. Digging his human-like fingers into the bar, he ripped the blade free of it’s chocolatey prison and flicked it towards one of the scarecrows, seeking to cut it down from where it hung to see what if any effect it might possibly have. Who could know for sure and how much would it be if something DID happen!?

“Hehehehehhe!”
1e4a3, *Adrian Thorne : Ah yeah, sorry, I'm Adrian, nice to meet you **He'd then frown lightly when seeing the scarecrows, before communicating to Lancer through their mental link** You'e probably already heard, but do you know anything about those scarecrows?
5e0fc, *Dennis Macfield : "Scarecrows," Dennis commented, both of them kept up-to-date on the happenings through the eyes of their respective Servants. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name, but - that sounds like it's Lancer's forte. Does he know anything about why they'd be out guarding like that?"
57232, ºThe Narrator : The pumpkins provided an eerie addition to the fog and flocks, Assassin of Red on his guard as Lancer of Red accompanied him. At the bridge itself, the fog would reveal itself to be mingled with toxic prana, obscuring magical forms of detection within. A nuisance but one they would have to work through.

It was the scarecrows that got Assassin's of Reds attention however, four of them hanging by the neck in a way that'd ensure people would have to pass under them to enter.

On them and all around, crows would be staring down at the servants.
5e0fc, *Dennis Macfield : "Yeah, I know how you feel," Dennis mirrored, having not found out he had magic potential in him until he was picked up by one of Heartland's generous orphanages, and taught how to expand on his own innate abilities. He'd been quite young at the time though and it was all so exciting then. A little less-so now.

Since Adrian couldn't put the flame out he gave it a try, the flame extinguished painlessly in the palm of his hand. Halloween wasn't too far out, it might work, especially if a rival Assassin was trying to kill the lights in a particular area. "That's great scouting work, but I'm really hoping to draw them out in a fight. Maybe not even the Servant, but the Master if we can. I could... I could work with that too."

Again the hesitation. There were certain people now he wouldn't hesitate to kill, but he had no idea what the Masters on Black were like. Were some of them decent people just drawn into conflict like he had been? Dennis realized he had to stop dwelling mentally on the little details like that or he'd never succeed.
5e227, *Sam : Sam’s voice was high pitched and child-like just as one might assume given his appearance. But whether it was because he chose it to sound like that or if it was how he truly sounded? He wasn’t going to say either way. As Adrian’s message came in, Sam was quick to reply.

”Hehehehe, you want me to play with them already? I can’t force them out but I want you to take a good look at the Jack’O Lantern I left with you and the other…” If Adrian did indeed look, he’d see the pumpkin had turned to face him. ”Jack’ O Lanterns are a Halloween staple. If they were to be blown out before midnight, it is my duty to punish whoever did it. But they also serve as an eyes and ears. It’s how I knew that you were going to contact me. I heard you through the pumpkin..”

The light within the pumpkin seemed to grow a bit brighter in conjunction with that statement. ” Try blowing it out or have the other try it.”

If Adrian were to try, the pumpkin’s candle would not go out. If Dennis did however, the flame went out and the pumpkin’s devilish carved in grin seemed a touch…sadder. ”Regular people shouldn’t be involved in this. Too messy. So only those with enough magical knowledge can blow these pumpkins out. Like a master or servant... But I’ll know who it like I knew it was him. The other one there with you…” The eerie declaration came as Sam continued to follow alongside Dennis’s assassin, stopping every now and then to set down a Jack’o Lantern before resuming the following.

”If the pumpkins see anybody capable of blowing them out? I’ll know. If somebody blows them out? Then I’ll know who it was. Heheheheh!”
1e4a3, *Adrian Thorne : Sorry, I didn't mean to get defensive, I'm still a bit exhausted from studying those books on magic, even if I did get some sleep...and I don't know what to focus on first, aside from the basics...it's a bit disconcerting to be shoved into something you had no idea existed, but yeah, I'll see if Lancer can draw them out **He'd then focus on their shared link** Lancer, can you see about trying to draw the opposing servant out?
5e0fc, *Dennis Macfield : "Relax, I wasn't insulting him or anything," he said defensively, holding his hands up. Appearances meant little in a Grail War; Servants took many different shapes and forms and all of them were powerful in their own right. Some in fact used an innocent appearance to lure its victims in.

"But yeah, Lancer could help us. I need to identify the Masters and Servants to be able to target them specifically. If we are up against Assassin that's the toughest one to pin down, but if we got them early it'd be a big advantage."

Last Post:7:16pm, May 24 (UTC) (1)

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