Iwannabeyours
Crusader Lord
Neziul
BaconA decorated markswoman, Scarlett saw the section of walking bones before they could hope to “see” her, and swapped herself with an Alchemical Doll - defenseless; helpless; distracting; the construct of alchemized sand and magic would be subject to the roving section’s attack, while she slipped into an alleyway and scaled an iron bar fence. Effort raised her heart rate, but she felt safe enough to allow it. If she was lucky, the skeletons were reliant on a purely visual method of location, since they seemed to have... half of a facial construct.
“Alright, we need to reassess the plan...” Scarlett says. “The targeted location is about two blocks away, but we don’t know how much more of this place is guarded,” she says, before drawing Heartstring and Heartbeat. A grunt escaped her, as she stabbed herself in the right arm; the obsidian blade sinking into the ash-black flesh, and drinking the blood it drew up. “I propose a riskier option. I have a few Alchemical Dolls left. So, we’ll use those,” she says, removing her cloak.
It was dark, so he couldn’t see in perfect details, but with the dim light of the moon above, Celtchar could make out the state of Scarlett’s back - her name was more of a testament to the state of her body, as he could see several scars from gunshots to slashes to burn; each various stage of colour, healing, and fading. Now, with her cloak removed, Celtchar could see why she wore it - it not only hid her scars, but it made her stand out.
In the darkness of night, she faded into it; her dark skin, muted hair, and the black jeans and muscle tee that she wore - even the saturated, burgundy cloak helped her stand out in a crowd.
“I’ll throw all that I’ve got, and they run in different directions,” Scarlett says. “As soon as they are out of sight, I’m going to shoot out the streetlamps, and we’ll start moving down the block - house by house, slowly, so we don’t overextend ourselves.” Scarlett reached into her pocket, and removed the little clay dolls, “Most likely, they already moved onto the house, so we’re on our own for now...”
“Ready, Celtchar?”
Sighing as he cracked his neck, Celtchar would say: "Oi, oi…even if you have all those dolls, at least keep a couple in reserve. Don’t go showing your hand before we’ve even seen the opponent’s. Besides, you’ll probably see Saber and Berserker coming in any time now. Shits like these are nothing compared to raw physical power. But if you want, we’ll go along with your plan and cut them down in isolated groups after they’re blinded. Sound good?"
“What I want is inconsequential toward completing the mission. The last transmission from Caster and the Director has made that abundantly clear,” Scarlett says. “Disobey Libra's direct order or stray beyond the mission parameters, and I will be terminated at Caster's discretion.”
Celtchar would outright say: "Then just blow everyone way with how well you can follow orders while completely disregarding them."
“That doesn't make any sense,” Scarlett says, “but, if it gets us to the bridge location, then I'll follow along.”
"Just roll with it," Celtchar said, smirking before following Scarlett’s lead.
Scarlett nodded, and tossed three dolls forward; they were on an intersection, so the dolls would take the roads going forward and sideways, while she doubled back to the main road to get access to the rooftops. From there, she could plot a route by popping lights with her gun, which fired magic blood bullets, so it didn't make noise to give away her position, and would cause the skeletons to relocate to the sudden explosion.
However, she wouldn't take her opponent as simple, and created multiple potential paths - creating routes she could travel, and providing support for her dolls. Unfortunately, bullets didn't come free or cheap, and her blood was a finite resource.
Where bullets couldn’t reach, Celtchar would intercept the lights and cut them apart, the lack of light soon depriving the skeletons of their main method of sensing targets without a Master.
“Now, the hard question,” Scarlett says. “what path to take?”
That would be up to Scarlett, as Celtchar awaited her order. But, since the group was currently fighting a bit of a ways away, now would be a good time to secure a path for them once the fighting finished.
Suddenly, Celtchar would find himself enshrouded by the smell of blood, coffee, and peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, as Scarlett pulled her cloak on him - hiding his overall form and his lance.
“My Alchemy Dolls can route the ones on the sides, and clear paths until they disintegrate,” Scarlett says, “The rest is on you. There's three routes that will lead to the bridge. I leave you to whichever your instincts says is best,” she says, “Draw as much aggro as you can, and led them into a dead end. Then, trust me.”
Celtchar would wordlessly take off after the plan was in motion, taking the roundabout way to the bridge while making as much noise as possible while staying out of sight. A trashcan knocked over here, a rock hitting a window there…the works.
Scarlett would follow him across the rooves, and wait until he got as much as he could into a trap.
With a quarry of skeletons corralled around his Spirit Form, Celtchar would smirk. "Yeah, I figured this would happen. I’m terrible at sneaking up on things…only time I did was to nail hot iron into a guy’s foot."
Scarlett would whistle, as she ran Heartstring in a corkscrew motion down her right arm from her elbow to her wrists, “Bloody, Sticky Rain...”
Enhanced by Magic, and modified by Alchemy, Scarlett's arm would shower the skeletons in her blood, and the VERY light shower would accomplish its task, as the droplets would bind with each other, while missing Celtchar.
All he needed to do was cause them to bump into each other, and result in a katamari of bones that were stuck in a spot.
Collapsing onto the roof, Scarlett leaned against the wall, and focused on closing her wounds, before digging into her bag for a sandwich... the wrapper crinkled, as her hands trembled from blood loss and hyperventilation.
She was panicking.
With the spell cast, Celtchar would maneuver in his Spirit form to go behind the skeletons, before ever-so-gently nudging one from the back of its spine with a push of his finger. And thus, the skeletons would be bound amongst each other, incapable of swinging their weapons with their arms locked with coagulated magical blood ensnaring them.
He'd feel Scarlett breaking down above him.
In a rush, he would arrive on the rooftop to gather his Master in his arms. "This is only the start of the fight. You know that right?" he would ask, looking her in the eyes.
“I'm aware,” Scarlett says, fighting with the bag - her focus was torn between eating, panicking, and the next step. “You don't have time to coddle me. Inform the others of the path we've scouted,” she says, “I just need to eat my sandwich, and replenish my blood supply.”
"...Idiot,"Celtchar said, sitting on the roof after setting her down. "Contact Archimedes instead. You need to rest, and I need to guard you. Even if you don’t like the authority we’re serving, that doesn’t mean you should ignore the advantage of having a nosy mage keeping watch."
Scarlett grunted, before interacting with the radio embedded in the collar of her tee, “Master Ishval, reporting. I'm currently at rest, set a route for the team to enter the city, and acquired a new safe zone.” she reported, before reporting on the house she'd scouted out, as she followed Celtchar. It was secluded, a small attachment to an apartment complex - likely the owner's. “Path is clear, whenever you can be arsed,” she says, using British slang for some reason, “Don't wait on me, though. I'm sure you can secure it yourselves. Over.”
"You’re one stubborn dumbass of a Master," Celtchar noted.
Scarlett would lamely punch his cheek; there was no strength in it, no malice about it - her stomach growled, and she resumed trying to open her kid's snack.
Celtchar knew there was more to it.
Her casting such an alchemical spell was unnecessary. Surely, there was a simpler way to accomplish the goal she had, or even smaller skirmishes of the same tactic. Yet, something possessed her to go big enough to remove almost half of a section in one fell sweep.
Celtchar would snatch it from her hands and open it up, handing it back over. "Here. …Next time, just throw me at the problem so you aren’t half-dead before we even encounter the real monster."
“Sure,” Scarlett says, taking a big bite like it was a double cheeseburger, “when you bleed like I bleed.” Swallowing, Scarlett would trill and kick her legs childishly as happy as the preschooler her meal was intended for. “So yummy~!”
Suddenly, she would thrust the half eaten sandwich puck at Celtchar, “Want a bite?”
"Nah. Treat me to something nice when we’re done with all this," Celtchar said, wanting his master to keep her strength up. "Looks like the other Servants are doing well. But if the thing controlling the skeletons shows up, I’ll head over. Sound good?"
“This is nice! It's mathematically perfect! Alchemically divine! And, yummy!” Scarlett argues, before gobbling it all down; leaving crumbs on her face. “And, that's fine. I'm high enough to stay safe, until I'm good.”
Scarlett looked to the sky, “I'm good...”
Self-assurance.
She was telling herself that, as her tremors ceased.
She was okay.
...for now.
Celtchar would reach over and flick Scarlett’s forehead. "Remember. Trust me. If you die, I die, so I’ll always come to your rescue if I gotta."
“Owie!” Scarlett whined, “Such a bully...” she says, though she smiled. “You really are Irish.”
Exhaling, Celtchar would put his hands behind his head and just kept an eye out.
Scarlett would rest up. They weren't done, yet. They had a war to win.
“Alright, we need to reassess the plan...” Scarlett says. “The targeted location is about two blocks away, but we don’t know how much more of this place is guarded,” she says, before drawing Heartstring and Heartbeat. A grunt escaped her, as she stabbed herself in the right arm; the obsidian blade sinking into the ash-black flesh, and drinking the blood it drew up. “I propose a riskier option. I have a few Alchemical Dolls left. So, we’ll use those,” she says, removing her cloak.
It was dark, so he couldn’t see in perfect details, but with the dim light of the moon above, Celtchar could make out the state of Scarlett’s back - her name was more of a testament to the state of her body, as he could see several scars from gunshots to slashes to burn; each various stage of colour, healing, and fading. Now, with her cloak removed, Celtchar could see why she wore it - it not only hid her scars, but it made her stand out.
In the darkness of night, she faded into it; her dark skin, muted hair, and the black jeans and muscle tee that she wore - even the saturated, burgundy cloak helped her stand out in a crowd.
“I’ll throw all that I’ve got, and they run in different directions,” Scarlett says. “As soon as they are out of sight, I’m going to shoot out the streetlamps, and we’ll start moving down the block - house by house, slowly, so we don’t overextend ourselves.” Scarlett reached into her pocket, and removed the little clay dolls, “Most likely, they already moved onto the house, so we’re on our own for now...”
“Ready, Celtchar?”
Sighing as he cracked his neck, Celtchar would say: "Oi, oi…even if you have all those dolls, at least keep a couple in reserve. Don’t go showing your hand before we’ve even seen the opponent’s. Besides, you’ll probably see Saber and Berserker coming in any time now. Shits like these are nothing compared to raw physical power. But if you want, we’ll go along with your plan and cut them down in isolated groups after they’re blinded. Sound good?"
“What I want is inconsequential toward completing the mission. The last transmission from Caster and the Director has made that abundantly clear,” Scarlett says. “Disobey Libra's direct order or stray beyond the mission parameters, and I will be terminated at Caster's discretion.”
Celtchar would outright say: "Then just blow everyone way with how well you can follow orders while completely disregarding them."
“That doesn't make any sense,” Scarlett says, “but, if it gets us to the bridge location, then I'll follow along.”
"Just roll with it," Celtchar said, smirking before following Scarlett’s lead.
Scarlett nodded, and tossed three dolls forward; they were on an intersection, so the dolls would take the roads going forward and sideways, while she doubled back to the main road to get access to the rooftops. From there, she could plot a route by popping lights with her gun, which fired magic blood bullets, so it didn't make noise to give away her position, and would cause the skeletons to relocate to the sudden explosion.
However, she wouldn't take her opponent as simple, and created multiple potential paths - creating routes she could travel, and providing support for her dolls. Unfortunately, bullets didn't come free or cheap, and her blood was a finite resource.
Where bullets couldn’t reach, Celtchar would intercept the lights and cut them apart, the lack of light soon depriving the skeletons of their main method of sensing targets without a Master.
“Now, the hard question,” Scarlett says. “what path to take?”
That would be up to Scarlett, as Celtchar awaited her order. But, since the group was currently fighting a bit of a ways away, now would be a good time to secure a path for them once the fighting finished.
Suddenly, Celtchar would find himself enshrouded by the smell of blood, coffee, and peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, as Scarlett pulled her cloak on him - hiding his overall form and his lance.
“My Alchemy Dolls can route the ones on the sides, and clear paths until they disintegrate,” Scarlett says, “The rest is on you. There's three routes that will lead to the bridge. I leave you to whichever your instincts says is best,” she says, “Draw as much aggro as you can, and led them into a dead end. Then, trust me.”
Celtchar would wordlessly take off after the plan was in motion, taking the roundabout way to the bridge while making as much noise as possible while staying out of sight. A trashcan knocked over here, a rock hitting a window there…the works.
Scarlett would follow him across the rooves, and wait until he got as much as he could into a trap.
With a quarry of skeletons corralled around his Spirit Form, Celtchar would smirk. "Yeah, I figured this would happen. I’m terrible at sneaking up on things…only time I did was to nail hot iron into a guy’s foot."
Scarlett would whistle, as she ran Heartstring in a corkscrew motion down her right arm from her elbow to her wrists, “Bloody, Sticky Rain...”
Enhanced by Magic, and modified by Alchemy, Scarlett's arm would shower the skeletons in her blood, and the VERY light shower would accomplish its task, as the droplets would bind with each other, while missing Celtchar.
All he needed to do was cause them to bump into each other, and result in a katamari of bones that were stuck in a spot.
Collapsing onto the roof, Scarlett leaned against the wall, and focused on closing her wounds, before digging into her bag for a sandwich... the wrapper crinkled, as her hands trembled from blood loss and hyperventilation.
She was panicking.
With the spell cast, Celtchar would maneuver in his Spirit form to go behind the skeletons, before ever-so-gently nudging one from the back of its spine with a push of his finger. And thus, the skeletons would be bound amongst each other, incapable of swinging their weapons with their arms locked with coagulated magical blood ensnaring them.
He'd feel Scarlett breaking down above him.
In a rush, he would arrive on the rooftop to gather his Master in his arms. "This is only the start of the fight. You know that right?" he would ask, looking her in the eyes.
“I'm aware,” Scarlett says, fighting with the bag - her focus was torn between eating, panicking, and the next step. “You don't have time to coddle me. Inform the others of the path we've scouted,” she says, “I just need to eat my sandwich, and replenish my blood supply.”
"...Idiot,"Celtchar said, sitting on the roof after setting her down. "Contact Archimedes instead. You need to rest, and I need to guard you. Even if you don’t like the authority we’re serving, that doesn’t mean you should ignore the advantage of having a nosy mage keeping watch."
Scarlett grunted, before interacting with the radio embedded in the collar of her tee, “Master Ishval, reporting. I'm currently at rest, set a route for the team to enter the city, and acquired a new safe zone.” she reported, before reporting on the house she'd scouted out, as she followed Celtchar. It was secluded, a small attachment to an apartment complex - likely the owner's. “Path is clear, whenever you can be arsed,” she says, using British slang for some reason, “Don't wait on me, though. I'm sure you can secure it yourselves. Over.”
"You’re one stubborn dumbass of a Master," Celtchar noted.
Scarlett would lamely punch his cheek; there was no strength in it, no malice about it - her stomach growled, and she resumed trying to open her kid's snack.
Celtchar knew there was more to it.
Her casting such an alchemical spell was unnecessary. Surely, there was a simpler way to accomplish the goal she had, or even smaller skirmishes of the same tactic. Yet, something possessed her to go big enough to remove almost half of a section in one fell sweep.
Celtchar would snatch it from her hands and open it up, handing it back over. "Here. …Next time, just throw me at the problem so you aren’t half-dead before we even encounter the real monster."
“Sure,” Scarlett says, taking a big bite like it was a double cheeseburger, “when you bleed like I bleed.” Swallowing, Scarlett would trill and kick her legs childishly as happy as the preschooler her meal was intended for. “So yummy~!”
Suddenly, she would thrust the half eaten sandwich puck at Celtchar, “Want a bite?”
"Nah. Treat me to something nice when we’re done with all this," Celtchar said, wanting his master to keep her strength up. "Looks like the other Servants are doing well. But if the thing controlling the skeletons shows up, I’ll head over. Sound good?"
“This is nice! It's mathematically perfect! Alchemically divine! And, yummy!” Scarlett argues, before gobbling it all down; leaving crumbs on her face. “And, that's fine. I'm high enough to stay safe, until I'm good.”
Scarlett looked to the sky, “I'm good...”
Self-assurance.
She was telling herself that, as her tremors ceased.
She was okay.
...for now.
Celtchar would reach over and flick Scarlett’s forehead. "Remember. Trust me. If you die, I die, so I’ll always come to your rescue if I gotta."
“Owie!” Scarlett whined, “Such a bully...” she says, though she smiled. “You really are Irish.”
Exhaling, Celtchar would put his hands behind his head and just kept an eye out.
Scarlett would rest up. They weren't done, yet. They had a war to win.
With the party on the bridge in full motion, Elise would stick by Conner. Most of her Magecraft involved potion-crafting or poisoning someone, and as far as she knew you couldn’t poison a pile of bones. Not that she didn’t think it wouldn’t do anything, but it was better to save something like Ampelos Bakkheia for when something as dangerous as an enemy mage showed up. "Bunbuku Chagama, think you can handle the west flank?"
“Mh~” Bunbuku smirked, as she shook herself, and cracked her elbows in big stretches. “What kind of question is that? Such pathetic summons. Any first-grade Caster could summon these,” she says, before taking a swig from her tokkuri, and clicking her kiseru - igniting the much larger stream of sake she expelled as a liquid flamethrower.
Normally, the hottest sake would be served is “tobikiri-kan” at 131-degrees Fahrenheit, however, Bunbuku was not your average tea kettle, and burned at degrees in the thousands. As such, the bones of the skeletons would be incinerated and melted at the same time - dealing collateral as her stream would catch houses on fire and melt through stone, while leaving puddles of burning sake.
“Phew~!” Bunbuku sighed, fanning herself with her tail. “Next on the agenda, my dear?”
"Mm…stay on the defensive for now. Fran and Mordred have the other fronts covered, so its just a matter of time until these sacks of bones are done for," Elise would say, glad that her Servant’s flame-based magecraft was powerful enough to melt bones.
“I see, I see,” Bunbuku says, before taking another swig; only turning her flaming liquid upon the buildings, and palisade walls that lined the walking paths. If the bone wanted to approach her, they would have to walk through flaming pools of sake, molten stone slag, and burning wood. “That defensive enough?”
"Yeah, I’d say so. …Though, good thing there’s no civilians, because you just destroyed a few apartment complexes…" Elise said, giving a wry smile. "Anyways, just try to reserve some energy for later. After all, we don’t know exactly what we’re up against."
“Two dual Mana Bursts aren’t going to kill me,” Bunbuku says, before she snapped her attention towards the not-so-distant cityscape. “Did you see that?”
"Hm?" Elise asked, narrowing her eyes. "...The lights went out. Think it was the power grid finally giving up the ghost?"
“They are exploding,” Bunbuku says. “I can’t see why, but I know it’s not overloading - they are exploding in too random an order.”
Elise considered the possibilities for a moment before saying: "Maybe its Celtchar and Scarlett? …But why would they be breaking lights at random?"
“Didn’t they go to scout,” Bunbuku asks. “The way she carries herself is like a rounin, yet she acts --” Bunbuku paused, watching the lights pop. “You’d think she’d have summoned an Assassin instead of a Lancer...” she says, leaving her previous thought unfinished.
"Hey, Leon. Looks like Scarlett is up ahead breaking the lights. How should we proceed once the bridge is clear?" Elise would ask, using radio comms so that Leon could hear over either the battle, or his own magecraft.
“Mh~” Bunbuku smirked, as she shook herself, and cracked her elbows in big stretches. “What kind of question is that? Such pathetic summons. Any first-grade Caster could summon these,” she says, before taking a swig from her tokkuri, and clicking her kiseru - igniting the much larger stream of sake she expelled as a liquid flamethrower.
Normally, the hottest sake would be served is “tobikiri-kan” at 131-degrees Fahrenheit, however, Bunbuku was not your average tea kettle, and burned at degrees in the thousands. As such, the bones of the skeletons would be incinerated and melted at the same time - dealing collateral as her stream would catch houses on fire and melt through stone, while leaving puddles of burning sake.
“Phew~!” Bunbuku sighed, fanning herself with her tail. “Next on the agenda, my dear?”
"Mm…stay on the defensive for now. Fran and Mordred have the other fronts covered, so its just a matter of time until these sacks of bones are done for," Elise would say, glad that her Servant’s flame-based magecraft was powerful enough to melt bones.
“I see, I see,” Bunbuku says, before taking another swig; only turning her flaming liquid upon the buildings, and palisade walls that lined the walking paths. If the bone wanted to approach her, they would have to walk through flaming pools of sake, molten stone slag, and burning wood. “That defensive enough?”
"Yeah, I’d say so. …Though, good thing there’s no civilians, because you just destroyed a few apartment complexes…" Elise said, giving a wry smile. "Anyways, just try to reserve some energy for later. After all, we don’t know exactly what we’re up against."
“Two dual Mana Bursts aren’t going to kill me,” Bunbuku says, before she snapped her attention towards the not-so-distant cityscape. “Did you see that?”
"Hm?" Elise asked, narrowing her eyes. "...The lights went out. Think it was the power grid finally giving up the ghost?"
“They are exploding,” Bunbuku says. “I can’t see why, but I know it’s not overloading - they are exploding in too random an order.”
Elise considered the possibilities for a moment before saying: "Maybe its Celtchar and Scarlett? …But why would they be breaking lights at random?"
“Didn’t they go to scout,” Bunbuku asks. “The way she carries herself is like a rounin, yet she acts --” Bunbuku paused, watching the lights pop. “You’d think she’d have summoned an Assassin instead of a Lancer...” she says, leaving her previous thought unfinished.
"Hey, Leon. Looks like Scarlett is up ahead breaking the lights. How should we proceed once the bridge is clear?" Elise would ask, using radio comms so that Leon could hear over either the battle, or his own magecraft.