She takes the time to flip her sword over in her hand. This is so she can press the hilt over her Master's lips. They stare into each other's eyes but the warrior is already scrambling away from the wall to avoid being crushed under the latest barrage of giant artillery. 

"Patience," she growls, "If you want a treat then earn it, Master. The mystery of what's underneath this armor is more than worth the wait."

There is the merest hint of a smile before she lifts the blade again. She sets it gently in her teeth and bites down with practiced care so as not to shatter any on her invincible sword. Not that they wouldn't regrow, but it's a question of grip in the meanwhile. She hand slides smoothly along her side and up her back to grab her axe again, and she turns to face the onslaught of the skies.

One, two, three, she counts as she shadow above her grows deeper and fuller in the promise of death. Her long, sinewy legs tense in preparation of a charge. Four, five, go! The mysterious shark woman rushes forward to the absolute edge of the shadow and leaps up as high as she can manage. This batch of siege fire is better clocked on her position than the last volley, and is more densely clustered as a result. 

That's what she was counting on. With a grunt of effort she kicks off the edge of the first boulder and tumbles into the second. Her feet scrabble against its rough surface for a moment trying to find purchase before she manages to turn herself around. She pushes off again and rises into the sky on a high arc that is carrying her directly into the path of yet another rock. Her eyes glint in delight and she throws the axe with all of her strength directly at the wall: it tumbles gracelessly end over end in seeming slow motion before it buries itself more than halfway up the head in the middle of the barrier. 

The next boulder crushes into her, but the Servant is prepared for this too. Three on one, with time to plan, and hers a broken Master to boot? That just makes this [i]fun![/i]. She rolls her body to spare Diaofei the shock of the impact, the arm cradling her tightening as her body compresses to feel once more the truth of the hardened muscles the unfortunate little priest still has to her name in spite of every curse and poor decision that had dragged her underneath the waters of an icy bathtub in the middle of a ritual. Her free arm stretches and the warrior punches the side of the rock with all of her might. It buys her just enough momentum shift to hurtle her way toward the buried axe.

A creature of her size should not be able to pivot so smoothly or seem so at home in the air. Yet she manages. Her great tangle of powerful limbs rights itself out of the topspin in time to set her legs against the haft of her buried axe in control enough to push and leap off of her makeshift springboard, though it shatters the weapon to do so. Up she sails, and up and up and up. Down she falls like a comet, drawing her sword free from her teeth and crushing down on the knight in a burst of steel and sparks.

Expertly parried. The warrior's eyes light up with a thrill as she is hurtled effortlessly back up into the air again. She is forced to twist her hips and then her spine to keep momentum from throwing her back to the bottom again and even then only just manages to skid to a halt on the edge of the rampart. Her battle stance once again returns to a half-bestial crouching, only now with the sword in her hand and her Master still tucked protectively in the other she favors leaning far back on her left leg and stretching the right one out in counterbalance, hunching over her extended knee with her impossible torso instead of putting her weight on her hand again like a paw.

She snorts.

"Ho there, little English! You happen to be fancy yourself one of those honorable knight types? 'Cause I've got a mind to bargain with you if you've got ears to listen."

She shifts forward all of a sudden and they clash in a flurry of slashes that grind edge against edge. Behind her the latest deadly missile crashes through the floor of where she'd been standing just a second before. She lets out a low whistle as the material seamlessly reconstructs itself in an absolute refusal of the castle to yield even to the viciousness of her own allies. They separate once more, and a cold night wind howls between them.

"They call me Saber. At least so far as you're concerned anyway. Which one are you then, child of steel skirts and a lifeless home?"