The initial shouting of Cyril sent Alice flying into action. Her items had never really been unpacked aside from being polished and cleaned every night per her usual routines. Her weapons, including the new bullets Karin had gifted her, were packed and ready to go. Her horse was saddled and ready to move the moment Cyril gave the order. Something was churning at the pit of her stomach. She’d never had to deal with something like this before but she was in it now, may as well see it to the end-be it good, bad, or indifferent.
She’d kept her head down with the arrival of the Chieftains and kept it down well into their camping for the evening. She was rather perturbed at the fact she had not been able to utilize her sole form of magic- invading one’s mind to withdraw information. It was with that magic she had finished most of her jobs in the previous years. Instead of dwelling on the issue Alice simply turned to making food for the party and making it as delicious and warm as possible. She knew, thanks to that small annoying voice in the back of her mind, this could potentially be the final meal of some and she would be damned if they had something poor.
In her usual fashion Alice was one of the last to sleep, after the Prince himself who she left alone as she knew not what to say to the man, and one of the first to rise. She rationed out what was left from the night before, just enough for everyone to eat if they so decided-many didn’t with the heat clearly on its way to melt them all.
Alice, under the thick coat and hood, was sweating bullets under the weight of her loaded weapons and her fully arranged rifle slung hidden against her back. She’d received instructions to move towards the broken thumb and proceed forward when the time came. Something akin to rage made her heart beat hard in her chest and her blood to run thick.
’How dare they disrespect her! How dare he think he is enough to rule a country-full of garbage as it may be.’ Alice stole a glance towards the King and the Advisor just behind him with heavy disdain,
’I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes you bastard. She viciously thought as her hand tightened dangerously against one of her pistols.
She was stunned for a moment at Kori’s smooth actions and grace; her calm was terrifying. Her heart beat a bit quicker as Gartian spoke about it being easy. Her muscles coiled as she prepared to launch into action.
Cyril giving their less than subtle signal she scurried up the Thumb after Alasa, giving no words or snark as her eyes glowed with their magic and her cross hairs zero’d in on the King’s head. It was just after the King had given his order to ‘kill them all’ that Alice gave a steady exhale and pulled the trigger with her target in her sights.
The next moments of Cyril telling them to cut down the H’kelan forces went unheard to her as she witness something she’d never seen in her life. Her bullet was dead set for Gartian but it never made it’s mark. Oh no, in fact it was stopped entirely. By a hand. By the hand of the Advisor to be precise. Alice’s body went numb for a moment as the Advisor didn’t even glance in their direction and simply flicked the bullet out of her palm as though it were an insect.
Then came the rage.
”THAT STUPID BITCH CAUGHT THE FUCKING BULLET! I’M GOING TO PUT A HOLE BETWEEN BOTH OF THEIR FUCKING EYES I SWEAR TO LINEA I FUCKIN WILL!” Her teeth ground as the muzzle of her rifle changed direction towards the front lines.
”No, fuck you fucking bastards! You’re all going to die today!” Instead of staying in her kneeling position, Alice dropped to her belly with her sites focused on several second line H’kelan soldiers until it was empty and there were bodies littering the inside of the enemy lines.
Then she changed her tactics entirely.
Rather than go for single she would use her multi shot, focusing carefully for a long moment as several locked on targets pulsed in her scope. She pulled the trigger and a hand full of them fell. Her mind jumped to the black magazine of the Power Bullets she had been giving. The same small voice from the night prior told her not yet- so she ignored it. However her white magazine was well within reach in case the time came that her comrades needed healing.
Her pausing in firing continued for a few more moments as more targets came into view.
And more fell with less than a head or a face.
To be quite frank after hearing the news of what was going on everything passed in a quiet blur. She was still dealing with the backlash of what had happened with Drosil, dealing with a vision full of emotions that weren’t her own and with old memories surfacing that she didn’t want to deal with.
So when it came time of them to keep traveling and camp and become ready for their strike the following day she spent it on the outskirts of their camp, fidgeting with the bracelets that would, as it currently seemed, never come off. The same things kept her calm but they made her feel anxious at the same time.
Would she need to use them? Would she need to prepare for the worst possible outcome? Would she another person she admire die?
No, she shoved that last thought out of her head and instead turned in early for a less than restful night of sleep.
The following morning came and Stark assisted where she could but she felt tense. Almost like the blood in her body was too much-too full. Her arms and hands pulsed and she’d found herself more than once giving a throaty growl. She’d never felt this before and she was less than happy with it but she would address it at another time when they weren’t about to go into battle.
Under her thick cloak her silver hair was plated back in a single long braid and she had each of her water skins filled to the brim strapped to her body. Of course she was able to summon water of her own but this was more efficient and overall easier to handle. She kept to the outer edge of their distanced group,knowing her attacks could get in the way of others when the assault began.
As Cyril gave the signal to begin their attack Stark discarded the cloak with little care and began her own attack. Her pupils thinned as her arms rose with her spell circles drawing immediate attention to herself while water formed in a circle around her with several tendril like arms waving to and fro and reacting to each of her movements.
Another throaty growl escaped from her as arms shot out and engulfed a handful of the closest H’kelan soliders-promptly stopping their breathing and leaving them to collapse on the ground having been drowned in a desert. Stark didn’t spare them another thought as her water recollected quickly back to her.
She’d taken a few steps backwards as another few soldier focused on her once more, this time her water shifting and swelling in size before a full body motion from Stark sent the literal wave of water forward and promptly soaking through several of the ranks.
She had planned on tearing away their armor but a stray elbow from one of the fights near her set her nose to a loud ‘crunch’ and liquid to begin pouring down her face.
With a sizeable curse she wiped the blood from under her nose with the back of her hand-regretting that immediately. The ever familiar tingling sensation grew across her arms as the blood from her nose that was on her was drawn immediately to her wrists where the stones would soak up the blood and send her into her shifted state.
A few of the soldiers balked at her change but it would be the last thing they did.
The sensation of feeling too full in her own skin came back as she bared her teeth at the soldiers and completed her actions from before; pushing her palms outward to cause the water under the armor of those who had come into contact with her wave to break and separate from their respective soldiers.
Many stumbled and some continued on as though it were normal-a few ever tried to put it back on but it was their own mistake.
Stark’s fingers curled viciously as her arms lowered and she launched forward at the closest unarmored soldier. Her body acted on instinct as she dipped under his arm cocking back and plunged an arm into the fleshy belly of the soldier.
He seemed stunned for a moment before screaming as Stark wiggled her blood soaked claw inside of the man before gripping whatever was there and yanking it out.
His sword dropped and he was simply being stepped over and she continued on with her attack.
At one point one of the soldiers had gotten close enough to the feral little beast; so much so that he had been able to get a downward swing on her and would have taken her arm clean off it those odd textured scales on her arm stop his effort.
Her left forearm bore the weight and pressure of the enemy's blade-silver steel against grey iridescent scales that seemed to flex under the blades touch as Stark reached up with her blood covered right hand and wrapped her hand around the blade and quite literally yanked the blade out of the soldiers hands.
In his moment of falling forward her left shot out and gripped his face as though it were a ball- her usually small hands were dwarfed compared to their sizable current state- and gave a quick squeeze. She felt a crack under her palm before dropping the man and continuing her work forward with a less than human look in her eyes.
Two more came at her with swords swinging but they were quickly taken down as the petite female swung both her arms out, abet with little proper form, and her claws opened up several slashes across their faces and necks. Her arms just getting redder and redder as she continued on into the mix of the unarmored soldiers with little more on lips than a guttural,
”Who’s next?”
Hos