1427/Mediterranean Magic

Mediterranean Magic
Date of Scene:	27 January 2015
Location:	Somewhere In The Mediterranean
Synopsis:	A piece of rock in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea is the key to Psalm entering the Grail War. Another Master and his Servant come along to make sure all is well. And also to sight-see.
Cast of Characters:	181, 687, 701

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Caster (701) has posed:
The middle of the Mediterranean Sea. Many have placed a certain island as one place or another, but the reason that no one has been able to find it before is for the simple reason that it has been nearly wiped from existence. But Psalm has located it, with perserverence, research, and good luck. Or what's left of the island.

A rocky outcropping in the middle of nowhere. If it wasn't so far away from land, it wouldn't even be noticeable if one wasn't looking for it. Might damage a ship if they ran into it, but that's about it. Only Maggie IS looking for it. And so she found it. Something else she may have found along the way, or perhaps only just now, during her approach - three red sigils burned painfully into her flesh, somewhere on her body. Three inter-connected swirls, like miniature whirlpools.

The weather is poor, and gets poorer the closer that Psalm comes to the once-island. Clouds in the sky overhead are dark and growling with thunder. Winds turn the choppy waters into waves that can capsize smaller boats. But this is her destination. The place where she can find what she's looking for. And it's unlikely she'll be deterred by poor weather.

Psalm (181) has posed:
    Maggie has indeed been searchign for the island, of courese, or what's left of it. Circe's demise was... explosive, if nothing else, and it was more than silly for people to be looking for long dead remains of a volcano in the sea. This was of course, the much more viable choice.
    The 'island', though was little larger than the infield of a baseball diamond, the remains of the lava core that once made up the great firey mountain. The start of the inscription of those Command Seals was only a further sign that... not only was she close, this was likely going to work.

    The Bard pulls her little magical boat up and alongisde the rocky bits and looks over at her companion. "I think this is the place."
    If she's bothered by the rain, she certainly isn't showing it. A light burns behind those green eyes, despite the fact she's starting to look like a soaked redhead.

Ark Line (687) has posed:
Ark spent most of the trip marvelling at the scenery, stormy weather and all. The violet-haired young man is all grins and astounded exclamations, a strange combination of things to find in a Confederate ally. His grey poncho is helping some against the rain, but it doesn't look like it's actually waterproof. He doesn't seem to care. He's revelling in the damp. "Looks kind of... plain," Ark remarks, glancing at the island and the Bard. "If you're sure..."

Caster -- /his/ Caster -- is a tall, thin man with a porkpie hat, a tweed jacket, and a cigarette right up until the rain gets so bad he can't keep one lit. He tugs on his hat, murmuring, "This place... there is potential here. I don't know quite how to describe it." He seems a bit bothered. Ark claps him on the shoulder.

"Not your department. Relax; it'll be fine." Ark grins again, not quite reassuringly.

Caster (701) has posed:
Volcanic rock lies all around, beneath the waves. There's evidence of a significantly larger land mass once being here, but now most of it being... Gone. However, the slopes that lead down, down, down, into a cone shape until the reach the sea floor tell that there is still something here. There's still a mountain under the water, and as Maggie, Ark Line, and Caster are pulled up alongside of it, they are able to stand on the spot where the Island of Aeaea once floated - the domain of a powerful sorceress from ancient times.

There's a hint as to why just this one piece of land has remained intact when all the rest was wiped out. There's a glinting silver something just barely visible on the surface of the stone. Muted and partially buried by rock, puddles of water, and the dim lighting availabile, it's difficult to make out what exactly it is. But it seems to stretch all the way around the circumference of the miniature 'island'.

And there is indeed a sense of... Something. Something is here. Something ancient, steeped in mystery, and resonating with echoes of power so intense that even over the passage of thousands of years one can still almost hear the explosion.

But what is that shining material exactly?

Psalm (181) has posed:
    Maggie's boots hit the island, as she looks over her shoulder in a fetching manner, and grins. "It's plain because that's how it's stayed hidden for so long. If it was still Grand and majestic... I doubt I'd be able to do what I'm about to do."

    The redhead hikes her way across the expanse of rock, and then kneels down next to one of the tide pools, murmuring. "We've only got a little amount of time before the tide comes back in. We'll have even less space then. Come on."
    Hnads slip down into the water, and Magatha Songsteel starts to hum as she rests her palms easily against the silver.

Ark Line (687) has posed:
Maggie's grin is contagious. It helps that Ark is already finding the expression easy on this trip, even if the purpose of it is as serious as they come. "True enough, I guess." Ark gets out of the boat, stepping up onto the spit of volcanic rock and turning three-hundred-and-sixty degrees in a slow loop. He whistles. "I don't know anything about 'weather,'" he says the word like it was foreign to him, "but it looks like it's getting worse. We might not have that much time."

"If a storm was not brewing already," Caster says severely, "then it will once our friend here does her ritual." He follows Ark out, leaning over to look at the shining metal in the water. "Curious... what is that material?"

Ark ignores him. He's caught up in the wind and the rain.

Caster (701) has posed:
The silver foundation, layed out thousands of years ago, shines more brightly as Psalm touches it and begins to hum. A blue-white light even begins to not only emanate from it, but to spread all the way around the island's remnants, a bit at a time, but gradually increasing in pace. Prana crackles through the air, and the dark waters already become even darker in contrast to the radiance shining up from the ritual circle. It may not have always been meant for this purpose. But it has become such. Little jets of magical fire streak out from where Psalm is touching, tracing intricate patterns within and without the circle. The edges are defined and then redefined. Swirls, ancient symbols, lines, boundaries, all appearing right before their eyes.

Lightning cracks in the sky overhead, and the boom of nearby thunder follows shortly after.

As far as is able to be determined, the material itself is either pure silver or something closely related to it. Possibly even a material crafted through alchemy, given its conductive properties for prana. That would be something wouldn't it? An entirely new substance that doesn't belong on the periodic table, left here back when there was still an island, waiting for the day when it might be used again. Almost like it was destined.

Psalm (181) has posed:
    Magatha Songsteel smiles and does not answer Ark or his Caster or do much more of anything except hum now. Her music is her magic is her prana is her identity, and it is being focused right now. All of it. Every piece of her magic coming forward, calling out to the Grail, seeking that Hero that she knows is waiting in the wings now.

    The fires and the symbols confirm that more than ever as she rolls her neck, letting her long red hair fall forward.

    And then the Humming stops.

    In its place, there comes a terrible, lovely, desperate noise in Maggie's throat, a raw cry of loss and anguish and pain and despair. Raw Emotion pours out of her frame, as she shakes and shudders and starts to sing. The words... are not translating. It's not translating but it is Greek, the magic in her song twisting the anguished, terrible lament and dirge into a proper magical calling now. The song is a gasping, weeping thing, possibly by design, and if Ark is even able to understand Greek, it is a calling for those long dead, those lost to war, those soldiers who never came home... And to a guide who tried to lead them back.

Ark Line (687) has posed:
Ark doesn't understand Greek any more than anyone in the Multiverse would by merely /being/ in the Multiverse, but so much would be lost in translation even if it did work that he couldn't really understand what's going on anyway. He /does/ understand that it's music, and that much speaks to him; music is one of the few things he can still enjoy in a world devoid of life that is not derived from humanity in some way. He listens, but he does not understand.

Caster /does/ understand. Languages come easy to him; they always have. He's given lectures in a language he's had little experience with, and adapted when he's had to. Greek is strange to hear, not precisely his forte... but he understands. He thinks to the classics, to his long education, and watches the magic build and the storm intensify.

Caster has a bad feeling about who this other Servant might be. Ark hasn't a care in the world.

Caster (701) has posed:
As the humming stops and the singing begins, the intensity of the light increases even more. The design of the circle is complete, the blue-white flames having cut right through volcanic rock. The sea all around is starting to shine a brilliant, cobalt blue, spreading outwards and outwards. The light spreads and spreads. And then the shining starts to come up from underwater too. It's not visible except from a bird's eye view, but... This circle that Psalm and Ark Line and his Caster are at the center of, is in-turn at the center of an even larger circle. A circle spanning at least a mile radius in every direction, surrounding the drowned mountain that they stand atop.

When the chant reaches the appropriate place, the proper pitch, the right intensity, a column of light erupts upwards into the sky. The light is no longer blue, but red. And the clouds above turn the hue of blood and fire, right before everything is blanked out by overwhelming waves of power that obliterate all detail, all definition, all sign of reality still existing.

Eventually, the light fades, and smoke and steam rise up all around the trio. The very ocean around them within the dimensions of the larger circle is gone. The waters are rushing to fill the empty space, but for the moment, they are standing on a mountain once more, with walls of waterfalls surrounding them in every direction.

There's no sign of a Servant. Not visually, at least. But there's still a fiery red glow coming from above. And the source seems to be a person. She is a tan-skinned woman in a short purple tunic, with flame-red hair up in a fountain-like ponytail, and a golden veil over the top half of her face to conceal her intensely red, cat-irised eyes. Held in one hand is a golden staff, both curled and jagged. She descends to ground level, but she does not deign to actually touch the soil.

The voice that speaks is not in Greek, but in Khorvairian Common, the native tongue of Psalm. It can be understood by everyone anyway, because translation effect, but that's what she's using. "I have heard the call and come. Tell me..." Slit-irised eyes look between the trio, before settling upon the other red-headed woman present. She smirks. "...Are you my Master?"

Psalm (181) has posed:
    And as the explosion of magic comes forth from the remnants of the mountain the ocean, Maggie remains, head bowed, neck limp, energy drained fron her for the moment. But that only lasts as long as it takes for to suck in a very deep breath..

    And the Casters present will feel her regaining her prana from the environment with a deep sigh.

    And as she stands again, she is damp, wet, bedraggled... but abosolutlely radiant. All of her Charisma is on focus now, and she looks like a red headed sea nymph, a vision of beauty alongside the Servant.

    "I am. Are you My Servant?"
    The words are just as defiant in return to the Summoned Caster.

Ark Line (687) has posed:
The display of light, smoke and flame is astounding to someone who is not so used to magic as all that. Neither of the Ark and Caster pair are. They stop and stare, shielding their eyes from the glare. An object comes to Ark's hand in the midst of it, an amber glow outlining whatever it is. It stands out, even amidst the all-consuming light and power.

Eventually, it fades. The now-manifest Caster hovers, looking down upon them. Caster and Ark look back up, struck into momentary silence, if not by awe then by caution. Ark holds a bone tessen in one hand, the glow along the war fan's edges dim but steady.

"That was way more impressive than when you got summoned," Ark says to 'Fake' Caster.

Caster mutters, "Shut up, Ark."

"I'm just saying, if you'd had that kinda show --"

"Shut /up/, Ark."

Caster (701) has posed:
"Mm-hmmmmm~." the Servant replies before drifting around to put herself between Psalm and the other two. Her own hair is beginning to become wet from the rain, but the droplets remain like beads of liquid diamond among the strands of red. She looks at Ark, and his own Servant, and then reaches out a hand to rub her drenched Master's shoulder gently. Then she looks back to Psalm and says, "The contract is formed then. I accept you as my Master. However, finalizing the details may need to wait..." She turns to look at Ark again, as she asks, "Are these two are with you, then?" Well, it's fair to be suspicious. Someone who is probably a Master with someone who is almost certainly a Servant, just hanging around during a summoning? Alliances are not unheard of. But still, she will not offer her name to her new Master and finalize the contract until she is certain that it's safe to do so. Though her Master probably already knows her identity.

The waters are starting to fill the temporarily empty area below them, and Caster looks down, and around at the gloomy, wet environment. On top of that is the fact it's a reminder that her home is gone. Wiped off the map. "This place does not please me, Master. Shall we and your companions depart?" She raises her golden staff, and a magic circle immediately forms of shining light above the quartet in the air. Unless there are objections, they are all teleported instantaneously about a dozen miles, appearing briefly, and then vanishing again. It's a somewhat disorienting experience to go from one set of sensory input - visual, auditory, tacticle, even olfactory - to another. Jarring, really. Far more so for those with enhanced senses, but even for normal people it is odd. Each reappearance would also have the four of them floating in the air, well above the waters.

And they would eventually arrive back on land, and hopefully somewhere DRY. Because this Caster does not care for being uncomfortable. While she has nothing against water, it must be in the proper amount in the proper environment at the proper time.

Psalm (181) has posed:
    Maggie is certainly about to explain the presence of the other two before the group is suddenly...

    back on dry land, out of the wet, and stumbling a little bit at the suddenness of it all, probably. Maggie's eyes water at the change, but she does grin. "Goodness, they did used to do those spells a little more... primally back in your day, didn't they?"

    The Bard starts to wring out her clothes a bit, a hint of tattoos showing through the red fabric along her arms, though nothing obscene about it. Is that a dragon, maybe?
    She does straighten up though and smiles at the other redhead, lifting up the hand with the Command Seals to rest on Caster's shoulder. "It is so very nice to meet you, dear lady."

Ark Line (687) has posed:
Ark doesn't have any particular thoughts of immediately backstabbing Maggie or her new Caster. He's not sure if this 'alliance' thing in a Holy Grail War is normal or what, either. He doesn't really know much of anything about it. Caster hasn't been terribly forthcoming, considering the state of their Grail.

And then *ZORT*.

They land. Caster adjusts how he stands, but Ark looks like he's stumbling for a moment, totally thrown by the abrupt change in position. He looks up and around. "Woah. Not much of a question, huh?"

Caster (701) has posed:
The boat is left behind, but it's conjured, so oh well. Caster could use more magecraft to dry everyone off (or at least her and her Master), but there's still DETAILS to work out. For now, she falls back on manners. Because conduct is important to her. "You as well!" she responds to her Master, with a lilting laugh. "Whatever your wish for the Grail, I am certain that we will achieve it. And with these individuals I take to be allies, I am sure there are many options available." Caster has an encyclopedic knowledge of this era she has been summoned into... But that applies mainly to her own world. The concept of the multiverse is likely going to have to be explained to her, so that she understands this other Servant is not part of her Grail War and thus not potential competition.

After all, as far as she knows, even working together can only end one way: One of these pairs is going to have to die.

One hand comes up to rest over Psalm's as it is placed upon her shoulder. Seems she's comfortable with being touchy-feely, and seems Maggie is too. "But first, we should get out of these wet clothes, and discuss matters in more detail. Specifically, the acquisition of certain materials..."

Her home may be gone. Wiped from the map.

But she has the means to bring it back.