His response to Archer of Red's volley was very much the same as her own. Twisting the handle of his bow about, Philoctetes struck two of the arrows out of the air, and stepped to the side of the third. He had already notched his return arrow, pulling back on the string further than most normally would. The sign of an overdrawn bow. In moments like that, even he could match the strength of Heracles. When the arrow left his hands, it was on a direct intercept. Catching the Red Team's archer as she was landing on the rooftop.
Impressive.
"Very impressive." He said outloud, eyes narrowed as he fired three arrows with precision. His three hitting the three fired by his adversary right out of the air. Three arrows colliding in the air. His shots were stronger than her own, but that hardly mattered too much when he was only firing defensively.
The thing that had his attention though was the arrow that had struck the side of his perch. He couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but the list of Archers who could pull off shots like his own, and even copy his 'misfire' at a moments notice was no doubt low. It was a precision worthy of the greats.
"I'll catch you, Archer." He said, feeling some pride in this battle. To battle somebody like him, with such similar moves? Was this a clone? Or a teacher? He had many teachers, but...
He didn't fire again, not yet.
"Saber, no doubt the enemy has allies coming this way now. I want you to intercept, and I'll provide covering fire." Firing into a forest would do him no good. His arrows would kill the trees, and give away the poison that coated each one. He couldn't risk another servant figuring out such a detail. Not until he could be sure. He was watching, eyes narrowed. Watching how his enemy moved through the forest. It was so... Familiar, and graceful.
He wasn't ready to give up his vantage point just yet. Not when he could see the whole city from here.
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Maeve had already seen the attacker before they had seen her. After all, the robes she wore had allowed her greater vision. Runes could help the body become better, if used properly after all. In one hand, she had already prepared her sling, in the other, a stone. The perfect one for dealing with stone golems.
ᚦ
She slung a rune.
Thorn. With percision and strength, Thorn was a rune to bypass challenges. A golem was a challenge. Big or small, it was made of stone. Thorn was designed to break things, and a golem was certainly something to break. The strength and accuracy, and the golem's own trajectory would collide, and the magic would be released. Shattering the makeshift drone into pieces that rained down upon the ground.
"Well, it seems an enemy has decided that I'm vulnerable." Maeve grumbled. It was indeed true. Most mages would stay at base, avoiding conflict. Assassins alone inspired that kind of turtling, and most servants would no doubt try to kill a master if it meant an easier fight for them. She'd have to prove them wrong in her own way. She held out her hand, and the wrappings around Celtchar began to unravel. The spear flew into her hand, still sleeping, but still willing to obey its owner while it rested.
She stepped off the horse, taking a step away and tightening her grip on Celtchar's spear. "Rider, you may deal with him at your own pace. I'd ask to spar with him myself, but I doubt he'd be willing to pull punches." In her other hand, a sling. Ready to pelt stones at a moment's notice. And pelt they did. Stones scattered about, hitting trees around the forest, and digging deep into the wood. Marking the territory of a bounded field.
"I can defend myself just fine from any golems."
