"Of course." A spear? Lancer, then. All he had to do was stay out of range.
"If it's victims you want, you're looking at the wrong guy." Three marbles came out of his pocket, held between slender fingers--the first flew out towards Lancer like a streak of emerald lightning.
"...What...?" Sniper muttered under his breath, surprised for a moment. Not a Lancer? Impossible, that had certainly been a spear in his hands not moments before. Something was not right here, and he wouldn't wait long enough to find out what. The other two marbles darted out, streaks of blue and red.
Oh, shit. Suddenly feeling very wary, Sniper stepped a little closer to Patchouli as his eyes scanned the immediate area. The six of diamonds came out of his pocket, held at the ready as if it was a deadly blade.
A Berserker was exactly the kind of Servant that Sniper would be in a hopeless fight against, andjudging by that look in his opponent's eyes, that's what he was dealing with. Even if the man in blue used long-range attacks, the sharpshooter would still be in serious trouble. He needed an acuracy boost, and he needed it now.
"Crimson king on broken throne." he muttered half under his breath; twice as much magical energy as before filled the card as he threw it in an attempt to beat Berserker to the punch.
He wouldn't go through with the entire chant if he could help it--he'd need to save what little magical energy he had if this fight would drag out.
Damn it. Damn, damn, damn! His accuracy had been perfect, but he should have counted on the attack being intercepted. Now he had just wasted a sizable amount of his precious little energy.
But his expression remained calm, even indifferent. This was what he did best, what he was summoned to do. To fight and possibly die in this war was simply what would happen. If it came down to life or death--he'd finish the incantation, even if it cost Sniper his life as Servant Assassin. He at least had a small measure of pride to fight for.
"Impressive." he remarked with a small smirk. "Tell me something. What the hell are you--Lancer or Berserker?" As Sniper spoke, he took a few more marbles from his pocket--what looked like five in total--and held them tightly in his left hand.
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"...Something you want from us?"
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She began to chant.
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"If it's victims you want, you're looking at the wrong guy." Three marbles came out of his pocket, held between slender fingers--the first flew out towards Lancer like a streak of emerald lightning.
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"Crimson king on broken throne." he muttered half under his breath; twice as much magical energy as before filled the card as he threw it in an attempt to beat Berserker to the punch.
He wouldn't go through with the entire chant if he could help it--he'd need to save what little magical energy he had if this fight would drag out.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
But his expression remained calm, even indifferent. This was what he did best, what he was summoned to do. To fight and possibly die in this war was simply what would happen. If it came down to life or death--he'd finish the incantation, even if it cost Sniper his life as Servant Assassin. He at least had a small measure of pride to fight for.
"Impressive." he remarked with a small smirk. "Tell me something. What the hell are you--Lancer or Berserker?" As Sniper spoke, he took a few more marbles from his pocket--what looked like five in total--and held them tightly in his left hand.
Reply
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