Dude, Where's my Shining Helmet?
Core District, Outside his Master's Workshop
(Temporary Player Change)
The Prince of Troy had made a slight error, but he had learned something in the end. The enemy could match his technique with predictions, and match his strength with power. What was next? If he fell back on the reliable move of tossing mud, would Rider unleash his hidden mud-cannon? Still, jokes aside, the flow of the battle was not running in his favour. By relying on pure power, he had tarnished the skills and techniques developed in his lifetime. He would have to correct himself.
“TAKE THIS, LANCER!”
Rider had located an opening, and prepared an attack.
"Gah... I'd rather not, though."Thus, Lancer did what he had done in the past against
that overwhelming foe.
Disengage: A
With the unbreakable spear raised as a precaution, a slight retreat was made. It was in this way that he had eluded even the hero who could cross a battlefield in a single breath, and so this opponent could not compare. As Lancer moved out of reach, he struck a streetside trash can with the shaft of Durindana, almost as an afterthought, and sent it flying towards Rider. With that, he leapt up onto a nearby rooftop, further from Hemlock's apartment than where the fight had began, and readied his weapon for the enemy. It was hard to say whether some gap would arise in Rider's abilities, whether through mana supply or otherwise, but no hero ever got anywhere by giving up!
His Servant was being overwhelmed. His workshop was at risk. An enemy stood just outside, held back by nothing but a verbal agreement.
None of that was too important, though. Hemlock had finally determined the perfect blue to capture the way the old man's clothing was tinted by the night sky.
It was wonderful. The emotions displayed by Cerzelium were rare in proper magi, who would have long since been mentally prepared for the furthest reaches of death and sacrifice. Moreover, the wrinkles on his face made his expression clear as day, even in this black night. It was a fine work. Extremely accurate, even on the handheld canvas as he looked down through his window.
And yet, he would tarnish it soon. The painter's brush hovered for a moment over his most fabulous shade of red. He considered the final stroke that would 'complete' the art.
No. Hemlock's magecraft would become greater the closer his painting was to the real thing. It would be best to continue.
His veins... yes, that's what I'm missing. Now, do I have a brush fine enough..?As combat raged outside, the visionary continued to slave away.
@Phonic@Unoedipal
SSW
BrokenPromise
