[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OvtbTEP.png[/img]
[sub][@TheWendil][@Flood][@SilverPaw][@dioscuri][/sub][/center]
Shika watched.

They did not cooperate.

Internally, the corpse-flower frowned, before shrugging, resigned. Oh well. If the Hunters were drunk, then they were fine with waiting until they were sober. Until then though? The show had to go on!

Arrows lanced through the sky, a meaningless barrage for a horde of infected humans. They screamed, horrified as piercing points drove deep into their flesh, their bones, their organs, leaving grisly exit wounds. Some survived still, gasping, twitching from the agony, while others were mercifully slain on impact; an arrow through the head perhaps. But no matter the trauma, the parasite-devil lurking in their bodies drove them forward, lurching with a swift but uneven gait towards the Devil Hunters.

Maria had the right idea though, and Mai followed through after her sword gave her some confidence. For the dead and the soon-to-be dead, dismemberment was a simple affair. Their bodies parted for flaked obsidian and tempered steel, arcs of blood brilliant against the moonlight that reflected from the snow. Could Mai’s sword read ambiguities, or was a convenient answer all that she needed? Regardless, Maria had set the example first; if there was a fallout, Maria could take the blame as well.

And of course, Maria would take all the glory too!

[color=a2d39c]“Truly,”[/color] the vampire lady crooned, [color=a2d39c]“A slayer of devils rather than a savior of man.”[/color] She drank from her glass of wine with irreverent disdain at the woman’s fiery approach, before her eyes burned with a predatorial light. [color=a2d39c]“Well then, have at thee!”[/color]

With a flourish, the seven foot tall lady swung her wine glass in the Devil Hunter’s direction, and sanguine [i]blood[/i] surged out, a veritable tidal wave of aristocratic excess. From behind Maria as well, the anguished cries and the crick-cracking of bone sounded as well, five of the parasiticized humans lunging at her in expense of their legs. Even puppets had value, after all. Far be it for one to assume that a mob was composed solely of weaklings.

Indeed, with both vanguards occupied, Hoshio found seven rushing for him as well, hurtling through snow and foliage at a frenzied pace. Perhaps in a zombie shooter, this scenario would simply be unfair. After all, speedy zombies were usually not so annoying tenacious either.
It was Mai’s encounter, however, that perhaps was the most curious.

As the Envoy turned in the direction of the voice, the eyepatched woman’s gaze widened, an animal fear seeping in. Not at the Hunter, but at what laid behind her. And then, like a rabbit, she bolted.

A feint or a genuine threat? How long did Mai have to decide?