Who: Anyone who remained in the city
When: 23 - 27ish
Where: Anatole
Format: ANYTHING YOU PREFER. Action to start out.
What: The elves and the winged monsters have come to Anatole. Blood in the streets! Blood in the streets!
Warnings: Violence, Part II
Notes: Tag into the location threads, or make your own if that suits you better! Feel free to
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[That's when the thunder starts.]
[The invaders' warcries turn to screams of shock and agony as a leaden stream of hot death begins to rip into their very formation. 7.7mm rounds reduce Red Elf flesh to mangled chunks and their rowboats to waterlogged wrecks. Not a single bullet is wasted. There's a true professional at the giving end of this death machine, and he's firing in controlled bursts ( ... )
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Every bullet finds it's target in the head or the heart of her targets. Like clockwork she pulls the trigger, the echo rings against the water and the lighthouse stones and an elf falls, and she draws back the bolt with a clack to clear the rifle so she can fire again, neat and easy. She falls back a step to stand closer to Snake-Eyes as she reaches into the inner pockets of her jacket for the row of ammunition stored there so she can reload her rifle.]
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[Soon, they're playing off each other. Every new target Riza picks becomes a marker of sorts for Snake-Eyes to finish the job. Her sniper shots become a herald for his machinegun bursts, ensuring no rowboat they've singled out gets to reach shore and unload its howling passengers.]
[For all its horror, this is one good thing that comes of war. This feeling of brotherhood regardless of rank or role. Of holding the line together, shoulder to shoulder, against overwhelming odds. There's nothing like it. In that moment, Snake-Eyes knows he will gladly give his life for his comrades here. Just as he will for any Joe.]
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It's hard to tell which is which in the haze of smoke, and she coughs into her sleeve, presses it to her mouth and nose as she moves forward, stepping over broken things.
(Here a dead thing there a dead thing oh god what am I doing?
The scythe in her other hand is crusted red with disuse, not blood, but she's resolved to use it if she has to.
Closer, closer and the familiar flash of green hair.]
H-hey?! Do you need---
[What she doesn't need is a hand on her shoulder, but that's what she's got - and it spins her, catches her off guard. As she turns, she begins to lose her footing, skidding on glass and blood and going down hard.]
---help!
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Are you alright? [Her posture is protective even as she's offering a hand, Asura held like a dagger rather than a sword. Warding off the enemy is easier like that than having to strike out.] It's not exactly safe here; you lost? [Is that weapon covered in rust?]
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[ Well. They do - with a sound so crippling that she cannot help but stop, amidst the burning buildings and the terrorized citizens and the monstrous reptilian creatures, wedge herself into the small alcove made by one of the yet to be charred building and clamp her her hands over her own ears. Although at that point, if it's to smother the sounds within her own head or the screams and cries of humans and monsters alike around her is anyone's guess. ]
[ This is some sort of hell, right? Or at least a level of destruction that could - would destroy a whole mess of people. Perhaps this whole city if things continued at this rate. People were fighting - people she knew! Or if not having known personally, recognized from the Network. She was sure she'd seen a few natives she'd known as well, from the market, running, screaming, crying... littering the streets in broken bodies ( ... )
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Those red eyes of his soften, and for a brief moment he's reminded of something he shouldn't be, of another little girl who is no longer here. But she is not that girl, she is not out there attempting to fight, attempting to lead others to safety. She is not trying to take on the responsibilities of someone much older. She shouldn't be out here at all.
Scar isn't even sure why he is out here, fighting, when he's not even really sure what he's fighting for. It's not survival, not quite...his own life hasn't been important to him in quite some time, and until recently was only measured in terms of its ability to care for another who's since gone ( ... )
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[Trickster appears next to Nill and Scar in the street quite suddenly. He had been standing on the roof of the mansion he was boarding in, protecting it from the fires and swatting down and lizards or elves who came too close when he felt that Nill was in trouble.
He'd taken a liking to the small girl and had, promised, after all, to come if she was in trouble. She hadn't called out for him, probably too scared to think strait, but he'd still come.
Trickster glanced at Scar and a quick evaluation showed him that he wasn't a threat to either of them.
He patted Nill on the head to calm her and scanned the street for any enemies coming their way.]
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More than things: people.
No time to think about that or she'll lose more, and she's not doing that. It's not an option.
She's been up and down these stairs for what feels like an indeterminate amount of time. Six times? Twenty? But she's escaped notice of the Red Elves every time but one - and that time her shot had been quick and clean and on the mark.
Down again she comes this time - purposeful and silent and reassuring as she finds the boy just where his brother had said he'd be. Another one she won't fail as she leads him around and back and up and through - winged bastards be damned because oh yeah, there's this other gun - and tonight luck is on her side ( ... )
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[ It's easy to forget he is Mist-augmented, so slowly did his strength creep upon him. But in Dismas his armour is suddenly heavy again, the strain of swinging his sword greater than he's used to. If he survives this he's going to start training down here: Arthur has relied too long on magic. ]
[ But he cannot go anywhere else. Not when he sent people down to Dismas to safety, only now to see creatures swarming down the steps. He can organize and order all he likes, but Arthur cannot keep himself from the front lines. Keep himself from doing something incredibly stupid. Because those tall figures with their bloody eyes, he fears them, and so he must face them, because he fears his own cowardice more. ]
[ Now in the tight underground tunnels, he fights, tasting blood from where he's bit through his lip. Fights for hours, up the steps and down, giving ground and taking it back, his strength ( ... )
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