[img=http://i.imgur.com/V9AIQ2M.png]

[URL=http://s281.photobucket.com/user/Prophetsblade/media/A1Siberia_zps079cb274.jpg.html][IMG]http://i281.photobucket.com/albums/kk207/Prophetsblade/A1Siberia_zps079cb274.jpg[/IMG][/URL]

[i]’Well that went to shit pretty damn quick.’[/i] A thought, a feeling, a goddamned conviction to the bottom of Veti’s soul. There wasn’t a thing in this world - even that self-same disbelieving soul - the werewolf wouldn’t give to have Siya with her at this moment. The number of clandestine missions the two had performed flawlessly together - too many to count. Siya could read the cant of her head, the pitch of her frown; and in turn Veti could discern the target in her best friend’s ebony eyes, trust that the tiny killer in the shadows would know where to strike… 

This was a shit storm, a genuine shit storm and the regret she got to wallow in lasted a whole of a split-second and no more. Her amber eyes instantly scanning the heads of the massed professionals of Bain & Hoyle in the path of the largest damn sword she’d ever seen, swinging to cleave the mass of the group in half - 

- And caught her breath with a slow, small smile. [i]Semyon[/i].

[i]...Impressive[/i]

The volunteer’s plan had worked, it seemed, one statue stumbling over in a crash of… ice? The echo catching Semyon momentarily off-guard. Rare was the mage who preferred to tackle problems in such a direct manner. The volunteer was an interesting person, indeed.

Semyon filed the thought away under ‘things to consider later’. When there wasn’t a stone statue charging through his comrades, seemingly straight for him.

[i]“Clear the charge!”[/i] 

The words bellowed themselves from his rotted throat as the Wight moved to follow his own advice. Ducking to the side of the hall, he brought his pistol to bear against the stone creature, gaze darting across it’s form to pick the best shot he could… before catching Tamarind’s own.

“Miss Tamarind! Eyes!” He punctuated the shout with a muted report of his own firearm, the quick burst of rounds raising a small cloud of dust upon the construct’s face. “Blind it! Then we can take it down!”

Veti had gone full wolf the instant the word “blind” left Semyon’s mouth. She’d needed no order at all though, to handily toss the rusalka Mila away before diving out of the way herself, without so much as a “by your leave.” If they survived, Veti’d apologize ‘til she was blue in the face. 

But that remained a very big [i]“if,”[/i] and the giant Anselm remained very much the target of those dire orange eyes.

[i][b]”GOING RIGHT!”[/i][/b] the werewolf shouted, her supernatural voice booming over even the rumbling cacophany of the charging behemoths. She never doubted for a moment Semyon would understand her intent. In a flash of crimson, the werewolf scaled the Anubus, powerful claws of one hand and her feet buried deeply in its stone hide as she climbed, the Desert Eagle still drawn. No way the pistol had the range she needed to make this on-the-spot plan happen - there was really only ever one way it was going to work.

Up close and personal.

Corded muscles straining as she hauled herself furiously up the onyx hide, Veti growled as she leapt from one massive shoulder to its jackal face, burying her claws in its snout as she twisted desperately, opening fire directly into that one burning, glaring orange orb. 

Semyon found no surprise watching the sight before him. Tamarind could always be trusted to tackle a problem head-on… and to great effect.

“We’ll blind it- [b]Anslem![/b]” Settling his aim as he watched Tamarind scale the statue, Semyon aimed his next words at the giant nearby. “Can you trip it up?”

Answer or none, the Wight settled down on one knee, arms locking the machine pistol in place as he took aim. It fired off in startled, muffled cracks, each careful pull on the trigger pulling up more and more dust about the construct’s left eye. He used them to correct his aim, always ensuring the firearm’s error wouldn’t place Tamarind in danger. With luck, even pistol rounds would pockmark it’s eye and ruin it’s sight. If not, the dust and flying lead should block it’s vision enough for the giant to duck it’s guard. [i]His[/i] strength would be the deciding factor here, all Semyon had to do was help present an opening.

Adjusting his aim another fraction of a centimeter, the Wight continued attempting to do just that.