[ WP ] The time for another holy grail war is upon us . The servants are as follows :

# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) 
 
 Aidan Wolfe rose from his crouch, the joints in his knees popping from kneeling for so long. Hands covered in blood he paused to admire his work, his eyes tracing across the perfect circles and razor thin lines. Glyphs drawn in pig's blood in a dozen tongues covered the title floor, all focusing the arcane energy of the space towards that one point. 
 
 The space was an abandoned ice cream factory, the faded sign outside listing its name as *Schn e nd Co.* The light of the moon spilled through the broken windows, casting beams onto the empty cement floor. Decades old machines stood like iron sentinels over the room, the conveyor belts and mixers as still as the grave. Outside an owl hooted, the wind rustling the autumn leaves on the trees. 
 
 Wolfe cursed his stupidly, his foolhardiness of having decided to under take the Holy Grail War. But he was already here, the reason for his decision a desperate one. He had no other options. 
 
 From his bag he pulled out his chosen catalyst, a dented and well worn bowl he stole from a museum in Madrid. The bowl was shallow and with a curious half moon cut out from the wide rim. He remembered the information card that accompanied it, the description as followed, 
 
 *'' Barber's basin from the mid-1500's, part of a collection of items belonging to an officer in the Spanish Republican Army. Died in the War. Donated by his daughters. `` * 
 
 Wolfe read the stories, knew the tale, even saw the musical. Only an extreme act of desperation made him choose it, what with time running out to the Grail War and he still without a catalyst. So he took it. Now... he was n't so sure. 
 
 He placed the shaving basin in the middle of the summoning circle and carefully retracted his steps, mindful not to interrupt his lines. The remains of a stray cat were thrown into a corner, the black feline being the source of his writing blood. From his pack he pulled out a worn leather book, the gold lettering rubbed away by fingers and time. Even as he thumbed through the tired pages the atmosphere of the space begun to change, an unnatural wind billowing hot dry air through Wolfe's hair, trickles of music spilling out of the book's pages. 
 
 
 `` Awake, Rider of Chivalry. Great deeds await. There are wrongs to be righted, evil to be banished and justice brought forth to the lands that have seen none for so many years. Awake! Rider of Maddened Faith, awake! The horns are blowing, the hunt has begun and the chase waits for not man. Awake! Rider of the Impossible Dream, awake! Knight of truth and courage and challenge, bring hope once more to these dark lands this I beseech you. Awake! Rider de la Mancha!'' 
 
 The space dissolved into flashes of light and sound, the music becoming clearer and louder. The sound of hooves and clash of metal. Aidan Wolfe fell to his knees, shielding his eyes from the glare. 
 
 *'' Who bears the Golden Helmet of Mambrino? `` * A voice asked noble and proud. 
 
 Aidan Wolfe spoke through shut eyes. 
 
 `` A master, the one who summons you to do War for the Holy Grail. I claim you as my servant, as my knight-errant. What say you?'' 
 
 The voice paused for a moment, reflecting. 
 
 *'' A knight must always have a lord... and a squire. He must have each to be a true knight. Will you be both?'' 
 
 Wolfe winced, having expected something like this from the stories. 
 
 `` Yes, I will be your squire...'' 
 
 *'' Excellent! Step forward, so that I might see you. `` * 
 
 Wolfe rolled his eyes and did as instructed and stepped closer to the column of light that filled the summoning circle. 
 
 *'' You have an admirable aura about you, worthy of the great knights of valor and honor from the past. Someday, if you remain true and pure you too shall join their ranks. If you would, please kneel'' * 
 
 A long lance, made of termite eaten wood and rusting metal dipped out of the light, touching Wolfe gently on each shoulder. 
 
 *'' A noble squire must have a noble name. So therefore I dub thee... Sancho Panza! Arise, and take your first steps onto knighthood! `` * 
 
 With a rush of wind the column of light dissolved into nothingness to reveal a aged man with pointed beard and graying hair. His armor was covered in rust where it was n't missing altogether. His shield was covered in dents and scratches, his lance like a twig. The horse he rode was pathetic and thin, the ribs of the tired beast visible through its hide. 
 
 `` Come, Sancho! Great deeds await us and the Cup of Christ waits for no man! Saddle your donkey and let us ride! Let this world know that its champion has returned. In the pursuit of this noble quest, Don Quixote rides once more!'' 
 
 Aidan Wolfe, now apparently Sancho sighed. He was desperate alright... 
 

