Theodore

It was punishment alright, Theo hadn't come this far to be reduced back to what he had once been; A glorified wet-nurse. For a moment it looked like he would protest, his fists balling as the muscles in his arms clearly tensed up. It was only a brief moment however. Although he might not agree with the bear, Theo hadn't put himself up as a candidate for the position either. The expression on his face hardened as he stormed back down the stairs, Guinand would feel this one.

Theo found the boy, still asleep in his bed, and proceeded to not-so-gently wake him. Up! Up I said, you dandylioned pigsty! Up or I'll string you up with your guts out! Theo continued with a long slur of other names before stopping himself. This wouldn't be the best moment to kill someone he decided, although he was sure Ladle-Maid did deserve to carry some of his stress. He released Guinand as life began to stir in the boy's body. Theo paced through the barracks a little, restless, as he waited for his companion to get dressed. He knew the kid to be a dreamy one and his eyes never left him, afraid the boy might fall back into bed if he did. Out of habit he started to strike down some of the creases from his own attire and making sure the buttons were in a line that was as straight as he could manage. Theo took note that he didn't feel as hung-over as before, although there was still the occasional tremor in his brain at certain quick movements.

When Guinand finally seemed to be done dressing himself Theo led him towards the queen's chambers. Enroute he took the time to explain the situation in as little detail as he himself had absorbed, which wasn't more then get Guinand out of bed and meet Jorrick. Their commander was soon to reach them and Theo gave up silent thanks to the steel man for the short wait. Entering the royal chambers the old man would stand as erect as he could hold himself, his arms clasped at his lower back and his chest puffed forward while his chin was pointing a neat thirty degree angle towards the far wall. He listened intently to every word said, but no expression would pass over his face. It was clear to him that the queen, even though with all the right intents in mind, was about to learn a lesson or two. If they had been emissaries then surely one of them would've rode closer sporting a white flag; or something similar to the kind. His commander on the other hand was either thinking too much about his own coffers or a coward for not pointing this out. In the end, it mattered little to Theo; this would escalate one way or the other and there would be plenty of opportunity between now and spring to make a good honest killing.

Theodore was sure it was the sound of Guinand's voice that made him want to strangle the most, a good runner up being the way his mind didn't seemed to function. He answered they boy with a grunt, which was supposed to say: You runt, keep your trap shut. So in the end it was a good thing Gnarl didn't send Theo alongside the huntsman. That seems to be a relief. Theo grunted at the comment about being off the hook from guard duty. He quickly added the Sir. hopping Gnarl would be too self absorbed to notice the laps of respect. Of course there was some work to be done on that level. A good commander should know more than just, command. He followed Gnarl around Stag's rest. Despite his disgruntled demeanor, Theo did as he was told or expected to do. Trust, after all was key.

The commander's personal chambers were something to be admired, if anything Theo felt slightly jealous. Theodore was literarily pulled, or rather pushed out of his thought by Gnarl's hand. He found himself surprised somehow at the strength by this action. It was only later that he remembered that Gnarl was as much a fighter as he was commander. Being forced on another merry-go-around there wasn't much to do but to follow and Theo started to think if there was any purpose to him being here instead of sleeping off his headache. He gave little notice to the clumsy guardsman, rather keeping an eye on how some of the boys were doing with their practice. Remus and Bert were going at each other, then again, they hardly drank anything besides water. Harris was watching and giving pointers to the both of them. Theodore's attention was brought to the maps Jorrick had spread out onto some barrels. At first he gave the man a half suspicious look before peering at the drawings more closely. I would say that we should also widen the moat. It's too easy to bridge and ill maintained. He started to say, gazing back at the wall. The section over there will need to be modified too, it's lower than the rest and will present a weak point if we are called to defend. He pointed out the section with his left, using his whole hand rather than just his index finger. There was hardly a sense to it for him, there were only two finger and a thumb left on it anyway.

Once again Theo found himself pushed into a direction, which started to annoy him quite a bit. His mood slightly improved however when he noticed where they were going next. Theodore watched as Yorwen was being pitted against a hopeless guardsman. And like he predicted the show didn't take long. After that Theo was glad for the invitation to teach some of his own tricks and replied with an almost gleeful: With pleasure, sir. He proceeded by jumping over the ring and arming himself with a blunted training sword. Alright you iron farmers, who will be the first at the physician?! And with those words charged into the group. Finally something to relief his hang-over with.

Astrid

Astrid was breathing heavy by the time she reached the top of the stairs to the massive tower. Looking over the edge she could see what would probably be a long, painful fall. Shivering she pulled back waiting to here Gnarl's inevitable speech. He loved those things way to much. For the most part she ignored what he said, something about riders scouting their place and gathering info. Not exactly what she wanted to be doing, but it was better than staring at Sikarthis's ass all day.

After a long, much-easier climb down the stairs, Astrid made her way over to the barracks to grab her gear. Couple daggers, Her sword, and she also donned her light armor. After she was completely ready she began walking over to the stables where everyone seemed to be preparing. Personally she didn't give a crap about the steads. They were animal, a means to an end, a system of transportation. Brushing the hair on the right side of her head out of her face, she grabbed the closest horse to the entrance and quickly rode out the gate. The faster they made it to the town the better.

As they rode Wren and Joachim took the lead. Astrid didn't know what she thought about Wren, she was something like her, only more... noble? That was probably the right word as Astrid didn't have a noble drop of blood in her body. Wren on the other hand was related to the previous Bear. At least that was what she had heard somewhere through the other mercenaries.

---

A few minutes away from the town, something strange triggered Astrid's senses. A smell in the air, like roasted pork. It was the smell of something burning. Looking into the sky, she could see a large black cloud formed in the air. Mouth drying up, and heart thumping fast, Astrid took off as quickly as Wren. For a moment they were neck and neck before Wren broke away along the path. Moving with the path would take too long, so Astrid went straight into the forest alongside the building. The horse fought against her lead, but she kept it straight, quickly maneuvering around the trees closing in on the house-line of the small town.

Suddenly the world tilted around her, and the ground rose up to meet her. Landing on her face and skidding along the ground, Astrid smashed her. Looking up while groaning she could see that the horse had tripped over an outstretched root, breaking it's ankle and throwing her from her seat. Face scratched up, she pushed herself up with the help of a tree and moved over to the beast laying on the ground in pain. Pulling her sword off of her back, she sliced through the neck of the horse without a second thought. She couldn't spare the time to help the horse, and even if she could there wasn't much you could do for a horse with a lame leg.

Blood dripping from her sword blade, Astrid sprinted the short distance to the village. Her beast had done it's job and gotten her close enough. Moving from behind a building she could see a group of bandit/soldiers lining up preparing to attack the Iron Company. Fools, all of them. A straight line up attack was like stabbing yourself to see if it was going to kill you. You had a chance to live, but a very small one. Stepping out from behind the building her blade swinging, she caught a man across the throat, killing him just like the horse. Pulling back her sword she left into the fray, stabbing and slicing at the evil men who thought it alright to rape, pillage, and take slaves. Anger at the injustice coursed through her, powering her in the fight. Blood soaked into her clothing and hair, adding to the impression of fear she gave off.

Smoke and fire rushed into Atl's nostrils. He smelt the charred huts of wood and of strange designs, along with the singe of flesh. There was no altar constructed yet, as to be expected this early in. His eyes gazed upon the scene as the cold wind blew through his luxurious hair. Atl smiled from ear to ear as he bared his teeth, knowing this was going to be fun.

The Metal Men, placed upon the same beasts, held rope as they dragged along the captured foes. And upon the ground was where the true fun was. The tribal women of the villages were taken out shrieking and crying of the huts. Atl pondered on what the Man-Bear said earlier, oh yes, this was the Cheiftain's Village. Atl kept a savage and predatorial grin as one of the Metal Riders called the others of the Rival Tribe to arms.

This was going to be beautiful! Atl cackled wildly as he glanced at Slayer, "WE HUNT!" He yelled as a Metal Rider was heading towards him, and Atl jumped into action. Literally, he jumped off the horse as it was close to the infantry forces. He ignored the Metal Rider, who was possibly upset. Being stood up by a savage who'd rather fight on the ground with the infantry, the Rider decided to wait, possibly out of amusement to kill the savage. The Rider sent his own horse after the run-away Savage's Horse, eager to kill the mobility of the opponents. The infantry became scattered somewhat, as they didn't want to be trampled to death. Oh also another Tribal Warrior, Half-mane was also fighting them.

Atl charged at nearest infantry man, who was understandably scared of a mostly naked and savage warrior. The man, wielding a spear made a stabbing motion with his spear, his hands shaking as he mis-shot missing Atl and giving him the opportunity to rush up to close-quarters and slash the man deep in the neck with his stone-axe. Which, Atl managed to get stuck within the man. So he stole the spear and began stabbing at the assembled Infantry. "BLEED! BLEED! BLEED!" Atl howled out with such ecstasy and unfettered happiness, before noticing that Slayer ran backwards, away from the village and infantry and oh, towards the Metal Men.

Atl needed to save his cat, and as such promptly halted the stabbing. "Me be back, Half-mane. Need Slayer!" He shouted to Astrid. And as such he rushed back towards the Metal Men to save his cat.

Wren caught up to the village and reared back her horse, narrowing her eyes, and she began counting their enemy. As the number added up in her head, she heard horses galloping behind her, her fellow mercenaries joining up, while these men in the village noticed their arrival. She chewed her lip, but was arrogant enough to believe that they could take on all these green slated knights without issue. Wren glanced to her fellow mercenaries and a smug smirk danced on her lips, excitement brimming in her eyes. This was the part she was good at. Joachim let out their battlecry and raced off on horseback, but her short sword was not one that would fare well against other elements of weaponry better suited for horses. And so she slid off the beast quickly, leading it to the side of the fray and smacking it towards an opening into the group of men on foot. She could only hope the thing would trample someone before it was cut down.

In the meantime, she drew her own sword, one of the knights on their horses rushing towards her. He probably thought she was an easy kill there on the ground, but it wasn’t like she’d never been the underdog in a situation before. She rocked back and forth on her feet until his mace came too close for comfort, and she ducked, sneaking under the horse with her blade plunging up into its belly. Her feet took her quickly out from under the thing as its guts began dangling about, an awful scream exiting from it before it fell with it’s rider. The man with a shield came rushing to meet her, though he stumbled a bit on his getting up. She grinned and lifted her blade, sparring with him rapidly. She hit his shied a few times… enough to annoy her, before her blade smacked his helmet with as much force as she could muster. He tripped at the blow, falling backwards and allowing the metal over his face to fly upwards and expose his frightened, confused visage. The blonde plunged her sword through his face, blood spraying upwards before she yanked it back out, another challenger slicing his sword down towards her arm. She laughed a bit at how his armor restricted his movements, slowing them to what seemed like a snail’s pace to her quick eyes. The metal of her sword overpowered his until she sliced downwards with might and sent his weapon from his hands. The stupid fool fell to grab it, causing Wren to grasp his helmet and tear it from his being. Another swing of her sword came as his fingertips barely laid hold on his weapon and his head had become separated from his body.

”A woman, eh?” a voice shouted in a laughing voice as a man came rushing towards her, seemingly amused. Wren just raised an eyebrow and nodded. ”The woman who will cut you down,” she said with seriousness, running towards him in return and letting their blades clash. This one was a bit more difficult and skilled, his leather armor allowing him the quick movement Wren used in her own techniques. She had no trouble keeping up with him, but his strength was more than hers on any day. She verbally growled, causing the man to smirk at her before she barely blocked a blow that sliced the side of her upper arm. It wasn’t much of an injury, but seeing her own red blood was never something anyone wanted to do to the girl. A rage began filling her eyes as she shoved his weapon back with her own, slicing at him milliseconds after her eyes would spot weaknesses in his defenses. While the cut had only renewed her energy, his was draining rapidly from blocking her, until he failed, and she ran him through. Breathing heavily now, she wiped sweat from her face with the back of her gloved hand. ”Pathetic,” she breathed, eyes looking up for her next target.

On the snowy plains of Ustynia there was rarely a time when high winds were not prevalent, whipping up walls of snow in the face of anyone risking their lives by traveling through the wastes. One would think that this would dissuade the use of missiles during any kind of warfare between the various Tribes and Threnhalls that called the kingdom of ice and snow home. As it happened however, the people of Ustynia simply adapted to this natural difficulty, creating a type of javelin that could be thrown far while still being weighted down enough to stay roughly on course in all but the most violent of frosty gales. Sikarthis had carried with him the knowledge of how to create such missiles upon leaving his homeland, turning it over to the Company blacksmith after such a time as he felt they could be trusted to recreate them properly. Down here in the South, Sikarthis had found, wind was rarely an issue. For him this was good, for the two knights barreling towards him atop their mounts it was anything but.

Sikarthis let fly his first javelin when there was roughly 300 feet between him and the first rider, the sleek blackened missile tracing a dark path through the air before embedding itself in the space below the neck of the riders mount. With a fountain of blood and a terrible cry from both rider and beast alike, the horse collapsed forward, its momentum causing its limp corpse to roll up and over the knight who had rode atop it moments before. The sickening crunch of shattering bones could be heard even over the rising clamor caused by the remaining enemy forces.The other rider charging towards Sikarthis took note of the fall of his comrade.

When Sikarthis released another javelin into the air with the same intent the knight was ready, swerving from his course at the last moment to let the missile pass by harmlessly. By then it was too late to try for Sikarthis to attempt another toss. With a slight grunt of annoyance he sheathed the last javelin he had prepared, drawing out the longsword from the left side of his saddle as he did so. Sikarthis had fought mounted on numerous occasions during the civil war of his own making, though during such times it had been a Snowcat bred for such a purpose that served as his mount, not something as easily taken down as the horse he was riding. Even back then however he had made an effort to dismount as soon as he was able; he worked best on his feet after all.

The two mounted warriors met with a deafening clash of steel, Sikarthis' longsword flashing left and right through the air to bat away the quick strikes of his opponents arming sabre. For a time that lasted no longer than several seconds but to the combatants felt like minutes, they fought, circling each other like snowsharks fighting over the last morsel of a kill. It seemed as if the green knight had the advantage, delivering slash after slash at his opponent, driving him to the defensive. The knight sensed this as well, his blows less reserved, more power put into them at the cost of precision. Exactly, it turned out, as Sikarthis wanted. Catching the tip of the knights sword in the handguard of his longsword, Sikarthis snapped his blade upwards, forcing a gaping hole in his opponents defenses. Quicker than expected, the longsword raced downward, trailing across the flank of the knights horse and slicing through both hide and saddle straps.

With a cry of rage and surprise the knight toppled out of his saddle, his horse running off and trailing blood as it cried out in pain. Sikarthis took the opportunity to dismount himself, taking his shield off the saddle and slinging it across his back before slapping his mount on the rear to send it off as he'd seen others do in the past. Turning to his opponent, Sikarthis was surprised to find the knight back on his feet.

"Accustomed to being dismounted are we? I suppose that's a good thing." the northman said with no trace of humor, his words muffling slightly as he slid his full helm over his head, "Come now, show me what you Southerners are capable of." And with that, their battle began anew.

The sun was too bright and everybody was looking at him. Rudolfo sat down and crossed his legs, his bones creaking in the process. "I'll be fine" he mumbled to himself as he looked out at his troops, all young, stupid, and impressionable; his "Bear" included. "If only I were forty years younger..." he grumbled.

The veteran slowly turned his head toward Gnarl. "Before you say anything" Rudolfo started "I'm gonna volunteer to watch the keep and protect the queen." Rudolfo used his sword as a cane to pick himself of the ground. He scanned through the masses of boars looking for those who were blatantly new and unbroken recruits. He knew in his heart that those were the ones who would... have the mot fun.

"Gnarl. Form for me two squads of your newest members. One of those squads stays with me over here to guard the keep. The rest will go with you." Rudolfo explained. In his head, he had formulated some kind of plan, not as much to handle the raiders, only to train his troops. "Keep your best men here to do as they please. It'd be a waste otherwise."

Rudolfo stroked his chin. "Now where's the Queen? I need to speak with her directly regarding our keep and my troops."

Rand watched the battle unfold not sure where he was needed, it was then when he noticed a knight heading around to try to flank them that Rand entered the fray. Rand and Stepper cut the knight off before he could get around the entire group, both knights stared each other down for a few seconds before spurring their horses, Rand suffered a glancing blow to his forehead, this blow opening a gash and little rivets of blood going into his left eye, the knight was de-horsed and knocked off the impact sounding rough. Rand slowed stepper down to a crawl and hopped off, smacking the horse on the flank and saying "Go home boy." Was enough to get stepper out of the battle. Rand strode over to the knight and kicked off his helmet and slashed his throat with the glaive sending a spray of blood over his boots.

With one knight dispatched Rand ran entered the village to deal with the general infantry, two footmen separated from their pack to engaged the knight one armed with an ax and shield, the other armed with a sword-breaker and a shortsword, the first one to step forward was the axman, Rand swept with his pole arm and took the axman off his feet but his buddy cut between the downed man and Rand before he could finish him off, Rand slashed at the second man with his glaive, who easily caught the blade with his sword breaker, the foot man tried to counter with his shortsword but rand brought the glaive up and the blade bit into the wood inches from his hand Rand pushed with all of his might and the man fell back leaving him open to be slashed down the middle with the glaive.

The axman now back on his feet went for the hammer blow, Rand brought up his glaive to block and the axe cut the glaive in half leaving Rand with two broken fragments. Rand cast the pieces aside and narrowly avoided another blow as he drew his sword, Rand was slowly being pushed back by the axman who swung wildly. Rand just casually strode out of the way each swing missing it's mark. It looked almost like Rand was dancing, finally the knight took a step to the side and took a swing, the blade cutting through the axman's neck, leaving the head hanging with only a small amount of flesh keeping the head attached.

Three more separated from the group but after seeing the look on Rand's face one tried to run only to be cut down by a slash to the back as he turned to run, the other two stood firm, one went around and stood behind Rand, which was a foolish mistake as he charged Rand side stepped and buried his sword into the back of the mans neck. The other one was much better and for awhile it seemed the two were evenly matched. But as Rand tired of playing around with this man he pushed forward eventually the man was backed against the wall, Rand took this opportunity to pommel strike him so they could interrogate him later. Looking over the battle lines he chuckled, "These guys lack spirit." He muttered, before charging back into the fray.

And so Atl returned back into the village where he heard the shrieking of villagers. One in particular caught his attention, mostly because it also had some meowing mixed alongside it. Atl rushed to the scene where he noticed a woman was trapped under a burning hunk of wood. Atl pondered on how strangely designed these huts were as he rushed towards the downed beam, and noticing a spot that was slightly elevated. He glanced at the stolen spear. "Hope it strong like stone." Atl grumbled to himself as he delved the spear into the downed structure. As he secured the spear into the ground, Atl pushed up the spear, as the piece began to lift slightly.

Slayer quickly escaped from the burning wood just as the spear snapped. Atl smiled at his cat, "Slayer! No do that again!" He said wagging his left index finger. While he did that, the young woman under the beam, with her left half of her face covered in scars continued coughing horrendously from the smoke. She stared at Atl, as her pupil quivered in fear, and giving the savage a pleading look.

Atl considered ditching the Tribal Woman so he could return to the slaughter, after all he had Slayer, which was his only purpose here. Then the thought occurred, this was the Cheiftain's Village. Atl knew what he'd have to do, and he began laughing, knowing he'd fully appreciate the next battle. And so he leaned down and approached the structure. Atl used his left arm and shoulder to secure onto the burning wood. Atl felt his flesh burning as he smiled, knowing the battle would be glorious. Oh and the fact no one seemed to be trying to fight him as he was saving a tribal woman. Though Atl was also slightly disappointed at that, it would have been a fun fight. They must've been busy with the rest of the tribe. As sweat went down his brow, he continued lifting it up, until he saw the woman began to crawl underneath it and manage to free herself. Atl promptly dropped the structure as he glanced at the marks of the flame, and moved his left arm, noticing yes, it did hurt to move it.

The woman's lip quivered as she muttered out, "T-thank y-" She stared at Atl surprised, noticing the fact that a Savage saved her. Atl merely gave a nod, "I go back fight now. You same." He glanced down at Slayer, who had a bit of fur singed. "Need weapon." Atl said, as he decided to glance at the Tribal Woman he said, dressed in strange garments which of course were blackened and charred. "Weapons." Figuring he should at least give the woman a weapon. After all, how could she help defend to the best of her ability if she was unarmed.

That, is when Atl decided the most obvious course of action would be to grab some of the chunks of wood which were not on fire. Quickly he picked up a wood plank, and tossed it towards the woman. "I-I don-" Atl took another wood plank, "Hit. Hit rival warriors hard." He used his right hand as he demonstrated a swing with the wood plank. "... Follow me." Atl stated.

The woman, followed the Savage, as did Slayer. Atl glanced down as he noticed some discarded slave rope, oh and a charging Metal Man of Green, armed with a large shield upon his his left and a spiked mace within his right.

"New slaves..." The man muttered behind his helmet as he commanded his horse to draw near the Savage, Slayer, and the Woman. The horse trampled past as he swung his mace down towards Atl who jumped back from the attack. The horse continued galloping forwards as the Knight quickly pressed upon the steed.
"Dreadful beast! Towards the Slaves!" The knight said exacerbated at the, most likely new steed which had yet to fully be trained. It continued going forth, before tripping over an already dead horse, not having the sense to avoid it appeared. The knight tumbled off the steed, falling upon his chest.

That did not stop the Metal Man for long as he quickly got up and rushed towards the Savage, Slayer and the Woman. Atl held out his wood plank, ready for action.

Atl glanced at the woman, who stared at him with fear in her eyes. "Woman. Other weapon, get." He said, having the suspicion that, the wood plank, would not be the best tool for the job. But damn if it wouldn't be fun. "CRUSH! KILL! MAIM!" He howled out, as his opponent was dawning upon him.

Joachim closed in on the hurt knight rather quickly, while the man was still trying to turn his horse around. Sadly for him the horse was armored and moved slower than that of Joachim. His shield was pierced and in anger he threw it towards the ground, realizing it would be no use. However his arm hurt badly and he was forced to use his prominent hand only from now on, both to block and strike. Joachim's horse rode past his as he was halfway into his turn and Joachim lashed out, swinging his sword horizontally at the knight, who barely managed to parry with his sword. But in driving past, Joachim had also raised his leg and kicked the man in the chest. He fell off his horse, first slowly as he lost his balance ever so slightly before giving into the fall and dropping on his back. Contrary to the peasant rabble's sayings a man in full plate armor, while a bit more slow, wasn't fully incapable of movement. Joachim once again turned his horse around to ride back for a second strike, by which time the knight had already gotten up.

The knight had a large ornament of a swan on his helmet, a common symbol amongst the noble knights of any family, but it couldn't tell much about his alignment. It was also a danger, as anyone with a brain could pull the swan on the helmet to either get rid of the helmet or simply pull him down from his horse or off his feet. Never the less, Joachim rode to meet him with a strike of his sword. Before he got there, however, he noticed in the far distance a bowman behind the footmen of the enemy nocking his arrow, drawing and firing at Joachim. His arrow flew true, but a misjudgement on his part ended up with the arrow striking the horse in it's front knee, chipping the bone due to the speed at which it flew. The horse bent through its knee during the run and threw off Joachim, who got flung unto the ground with a loud smack. He landed right in front of the knight who had sent his mace down to meet Joachim's face, but he rolled out of the way in the nick of time.

Joachim quickly got up only to be faced with another mace, which he promptly blocked with his shield. Joachim stepped forward with his right foot and swung the sword at the knight, whom quickly parried with his mace before stepping back and raising the mace above his head and sending it down to Joachim, who met it with his shield which cracked loudly under the mace. Before Joachim could strike him again he sent his mace at Joachim again, this time breaking the shield fully and sending Joachim stumbling back. Another arrow flew by Joachims head, and it seemed that the mans mace that sent Joachim tumbling might've saved his life. The arrow landed in the dust and Joachim grabbed his sword with both hands, taking a brief look at the arrow, then the archer behind the main enemy lines which seemed to be busy with Wren and any other of the Queens guard which were rather in the fray of the fight than fighting knights. They were free to choose, but the spoils of a dead man go to it's killer, and a knight carries more coin than a footsoldier.

Switching his view to the knight, who stood fearsomely with his mace in hand, Joachim stepped forward and swung his sword at the man, whom skillfully parried it and countered with a blow to Joachims head. Joachim ducked under and pulled his sword to his side before thrusting it upwards into the knights gut. The penetration of the armor was slow and heavy but it went through. Never the less the knight pushed Joachim away and felt the wound, which bled heavily and was gaping at the rest of the soldiers. But it wasn't enough -- it was not deadly for now and they'd soon ride back to get to a woundmaster, which could patch this up. In a fit of anger the knight swung his mace around at Joachim, aiming for the shoulder.

The blew glanced off, because Joachim managed to twist his shoulder out of the way just in time. It still hurt like a bitch, though. The knight went in for another hit which was countered by Joachim's bastard sword hitting it, hard enough to knock it out of the mans hand. This gave Joachim the edge he needed, as he sent the sword towards the small gap between the knights helmet and armor and slit his throat, blood streaming from the mans neck and mouth as he slowly choked in his own blood and bled to death. Joachim turned away to face the larger crowd of soldiers before realizing the situation and raised his sword into the sky. „Get together to fight!” It seemed that everyone had divided and that now there were a few people fighting the twenty or so footsoldiers, while the rest fought the knights. While it may work for now, sooner or later the ones fighting the footsoldiers would be clubbed to death by overpowerment of sheer numbers. Joachim just hoped that they'd follow his suggestion. He stepped back to the center of the opposition's forces, taking a look around to assess the damages.

It seemed Atl was pre-occupied with fighting one of the last knights, with.. was that a piece of wood? Joachim decided that he'd best support the savage, though he wasn't sure if he'd appreciate this. Joachim would rush over to the knight from the back and attempt to stab the man in the back of his armor, where the pieces of plate were tied together. His sword would pierce upwards towards the mans neck, and leave it there. But it all depended on whether or not Atl saw him, and whether he would stop Joachim or not.

Atl readied himself for the battle, an honorable fight where no, Atl squinted as he saw Joachim rushing towards his foe. "METAL MAN!" Atl held onto the piece of wood as he chucked it towards Joachim, while the knight, rushed towards the left side, to avoid the chucked wood, that was not coming towards him, but towards Joachim. Atl would not have anyone sullying the honor of this battle. Atl shouted out, "WE FIGHT WITH HONOR!" as the woman who he saved just looked at the Savage incredulously, wondering why they did that at all.

The Knight, was perplexed by that shout, as he decided to cock his head to the side, and, ... there was someone else who could have easily killed him! "T-that Savage, di-" He grumbled out. As finished the trek to Atl, he quickly disposed of his shield, tossing it in a random direction, away from the woman and the savage. He used his free left hand as he took off his helmet, revealing his face. The man had bright blue eyes, and light blond hair. He had a rather bushy beard, and had the top of his head shaved so only a small bit of hair remained. Under his right eye there was a deep scar. "... Savage. I thank you." He said, genuinely happy that the Savage saved his life, and would allow him to have honorable combat. "I a-" He said, only to be interrupted by a screaming renegade foot-soldier who was wielding a spiked club. As the footsoldier charged up, the knight drew his own club and slammed it deep into the footsoldier's face, as some teeth fell from the man's head.

Pulling his own mace out, he grabbed the other with his free hand and tossed it towards the Savage. "Now. We can fight honorably. Savage you are good with a club yes?" Atl nodded, as he picked it up with his right hand and began swinging it to get a feel for it. The Knight smiled, "I am Barnaby Averill." Atl nodded, "Atl Etzli." Barnaby swung his mace, "Wonderful. ... I trust you wish to get straight to it then?" Atl nodded, confirming that he'd much rather not hear any more talk, but would instead prefer to fight.

Barnaby rushed up towards Atl as he swung his mace down in downwards diagonal fashion to strike Atl's chest. Atl, jumped back as he swung his mace to strike Barnaby in his right arm. Barnaby parried the blow with his own mace, before he hopped back. He ran up towards Atl as he swung again, keeping it level as he aimed for Atl's left arm. He scored a blow, though not as well as he would've liked, as the spikes of his club did not hit bone, but merely tore through the flesh. Atl smiled, rather happy that Barnaby drew blood. "Nice hit." Barnaby chuckled, amused at the opponent who was happy to have been hit. Atl rushed towards Barnaby as he swung at his right arm. Barnaby drew it back, his right gauntlets were struck as the mace pierced through his plating, striking its own blood. He dropped the mace from the pain. Barnaby scowled as he quickly swung with his left arm to jab the Savage. Atl leaned back as he pulled out the mace, noticing in the distance there were still troops that needed to be slaughtered. As he pulled it out, he swung the mace at Barnaby's face. Unfortunately for Barnaby, he was not swift enough to avoid the strike, and as such had his face smashed in with the mace. Atl paused as he ripped the mace out, as Barnaby fell to the ground. He glanced back, noticing that Slayer was still safe, then to the woman, who was watching the fight.

He reached at Barnaby's corpse as he placed the mace down, as he collected blood. He then smeared it over his lower jaw, before picking up the mace again, ready to fight off the rest.

"Ride out if you must." Isolde smiled at Guindand.
"But remember, this is a very important mission, so I'm counting on you! Do your best, okay?" she opened her eyes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get this manse in order. Everything must look right. Nothing they wouldn't agree with." she walked back into her room, and began shuffling around the papers, sorting them into several different piles.

Joachim managed to dodge the piece of wood that Atl flung at him, surprised that his ally would go to such an extent to have 'a fair fight' with someone that killed innocent villagers. This man was either an idiot or very much so focussed on fighting. Perhaps both. Probably both. Joachim was about to stab the man in his back anyway before noticing that there were two footmen coming from the left side, both holding an arming sword above their head rushing towards Atl. They must've missed the fact that the knight killed the last footman that tried this. Several arrows flew past Joachim, the knight and Atl, and they were lucky that they couldn't aim very well. Joachim decided that Atl was very much so capable of defending himself, so he rushed forwards infront of the two footmen.

Untrained peasants who had been given a weapon, this lot. One of them released his strike, sending the vertical strike towards Joachim's head who simply parried it quickly then brought the blade down towards the man's arm, giving it a fairly large but superficial cut. His friend rushed forwards now, not wanting the man to die. This 'attempt to save him' probably only prolonged their demises, but it worked for a short while none the less. He jumped in front of the other footman, pushed him back a bit then brought up his shield to Joachim to cover up his upwards aimed stab from below. Joachim noticed though, having been accustomed to the 'calls' of an attack so to say. He stepped back, sending the stab missing by a long shot, before stepping forwards again and smacking the mans face with the back of his left hand, grabbing his leather armor and shoving him back tumbling over the other man. This gave Joachim some time to look back at Atl, who seemed to have gained the upperhand by smashing the knights' hand. He may be stupid but he's a darn good warrior.

„RAAAGH! DIE YOU IRON SCUM!” a man yelled out pulling Joachim back into the fight only to be tackled to the ground and losing grip of his sword, which landed somewhere a bit further away outside of Joachims grip. A wrestle for the sword ensued, Joachim's hand inching closer and closer to it before the man punched Joachim in the face. Was that.. blood? Joachim spat in the mans face, a gross and messy spat of blood flying out into his eyes. But it didn't seem to give him much trouble. Joachim looked at the background quickly and noticed that not only had the man gotten up and was getting closer to help his friend deal with Joachim, two more footmen had broken off from the main line, which was preoccupied with Astrid and the others, to help their friends. Joachim gave up on his sword and instead grabbed the mans throat and began choking him as the man did the same to him. It was obvious the man would win, and slowly Joachims hands slid down the mans neck to his side, losing power every moment that the mans hands lay upon his neck. But then he felt something.

„Ggrlglll..” the man let out, a knife stuck in his throat. Joachim quickly threw him off and threw the knife onto him. He was lucky to have found that knife in the mans sheath on his side or else he'd have lost life this instance. He got up quickly, reorientated him to find Atl already having won and pulling the mace from the mans head. But now they faced 3 men, one of which had a sword and the other two held long spears. „Atl, I need your help now, please!” Joachim yelled as he went down to grab his weapon again.

---

The ship creaked and moaned as it sailed across the Howling Sea, the winds for which these waters were named howled harshly as the waves crashed against the hull of the ship and onto the deck spraying sailors with its salty waters. Much like the sea the men howled orders at each other as they ran across the ship trying desperately to keep her afloat. The captain, Arnold Hammund, was the one of the most notorious slave captains and had commanded several journeys across the Howling Sea. "If you lot don't pull your damn weight when we get to port I'll sell you along with the savages below!", that wasn't a threat. Years of living as a slaver had driven Hammund almost mad with greed. So much so he would actually sell his men into slavery if he felt they didn't work to his expectations. One would think this would turn away potential crew but Hammund knew how to get a crew. On every venture to Rannos he would only pick the most skilled natives to take as slaves, once he was back home he'd sell them for top dollar and pay his crew handsomely even if it was only a portion of his earnings.

Below decks in the darkest corner sat Talan, his face was bloodied and beaten along with the rest of his body due to his previous attempts to escape. He sat slouched against the wall of the ship packed with all the other slaves. Some weren't even Kahldari, in fact some of them seemed to be foreigners like the ones above. One in particular seemed more afraid than the rest. In fact he looked as if he was about to soil himself, "If you are going to shit yourself you better make sure it's nowhere near me", Talan said with a cruel tone in his voice. The foreigner snapped his head in the direction of where he heard the voice. "Y-you have no idea, savage, you have no idea what's in store for us. Let alone me!", the man tried to speak with some form of aggression but failed miserably.

"Oh really? Then what is waiting for us wherever it is we are going?", Talan replied. He would forgive the man for calling him a savage..this time.

"We are going to be sold as slave! At least you all are I was in Rannos to escape a debt collector and now he's found me. I know the man and he is not one to forgive those who don't pay him. Oh God he's going to kill me, I think-I think I'm going to be sick!"

"Get it togethor man! You think acting like a frightened child will do anything!", Talan looked around the hold on the ship to see all the others looking at him with the same expression on their faces as the pathetic man beside him. He stood up, more like half crouched as his chains kept him down somewhat. "Listen, all of you! You can sit here like cowards or you can fight for your freedom! Follow me and I will lead us back home!", the other slaves spoke quietly amongst themselves before giving him a look that he knew meant they were with him. "Good, the three of you. Help me break these chains", he pointed to the three closest men to him and they shuffled over to him grabbing his chains. "When I say, pull the chains...Now!", the three men and Talan jerked at the chains as hard as they could, amost instantly others joined in and in a few moments his chains broke away from the hull of the ship. The three did the same for each other and not long after there was enough of them free to release the other slaves. They all gathered at the stairs to the deck where Talan stood ahead of them all, "How many of you can fight?", he asked and in response a handful of men and women came forward through the crowd, "Alright the rest of you wait here, we don't need you getting in the way". Looking to his fighters he said, "When I give the word we all charge the deck. We have no weapons so knock the men off the ship. Take their weapons if you can-wait. What do you think you are doing?", Talan noticed the man he spoke with earlier at the front. "I-I want to fight", he said with the same nervous tone he spoke with before.

"You are no fighter...fine just stay out of my way", Talan readied himself and signaled to the others to do the same. There was a moment of silence despite the raging sea outside, in the next there was only screaming as Talan lead the charge tackling the nearest sailor to the ground and bashing his face in before moving onto his next opponent. The slaves followed close by and the revolt seemed to be going well...that is until the slavers realized what was going on. They quickly began to surround and recapture the slaves, all except one. Talan was still fighting by the time they captured the others, he managed to get a sword and was slashing this way and that. It almost looked as if he'd take down the entire ship's crew if he hadn't been tackled from behind. Once he was captured the captain ordered his men to have the offending slaves lined up across the deck. Arnold strolled up and down the deck surveying each of the slaves Talan lead into battle. "My problem isn't the fact that you lot tried to rebel, but that I can't kill any of you. That would cost me money and I hate losing money...what I can do is teach you all a lesson", Arnold looked with hateful eyes as Talan who met Arnold's gaze with his own. "Men! Take this one and tie him to the mast. Then give him 50 lashins' to his savage hide!", Arnold walked over to the foreigner Talan had spoken to before. Still shaking from the assault the man nervously looked up at Arnold only to piss himself in fear. "Do you think I appreciate you soaking the deck of my ship with your piss?! Ey Boy?!...this one is not worth selling...kill em"

Talan could hear the little man screaming as the sailors dragged him over to the side of the ship, slitting his throat and throwing his body overboard. "As for you, savage, remember where you are next time you have one of your primitive urges", Arnold gave one of his crewmen a nod and they began to whip Talan, each time adding to the already numerous bloody marks on his back. For the first 30 he was almost silent, letting out only grunts or muffled yells. After the first thirty was when he began to scream, his screams weren't like those of the pathetic man who died moments before. No, his were screams of anger, of hate, almost animalistic and the very man who was whipping him seemed reluctant to continue. At one point he stopped completely but to his surprise Talan spoke, "Are you satisfied? Because I swear once we get to where we are going I will kill you! When I'm done with you death will be welcoming!"

Arnold with a blank look on his face gestured for them to take the beaten Kahldari below decks and chain him up again.Talan would not speak again until they reached the port city by the Tyne River delta. "Lead the cargo to the plaza!", Arnold ordered his men. In a few hours Arnold had managed to sell a good amount of his cargo before interested buyers were no where to be found. He still had a handful of slaves to sell, Talan among them. "Take this lot up river to the village near Stag's Rest when you get the chance. I'm not letting them go to waste", the leftover slaves were herded into a large holding chamber owned by Arnold himself for this very purpose. It is here that Talan would wait for his chance to be free...and to kill the man who dared to whip him as if he was some animal.

Collab between Whirlwind & Enalais

Wren looked up in time to see an arrow flying towards a figure, she realized was Rand moving into the thick of things. Her eyes widened and she dove towards him shoving him out of the arrows path and letting it slice near their heads. Breathing heavily she looked at him as she backed off, shaking her head. ”Mind the skies,” she said with a nod, before looking around them to see they were starting to become overwhelmed with footsoldiers. Her instincts kicked in and she turned her body, pressing her back against Rand’s so they could fight from all angles.

Rand removed his sword from the gut of an enemy, he looked around for another footman to sink his blade into, but as he turned to get moving he was push to the side and the hiss of an arrow passing too close filled his ears. Looking over he saw that Wren had saved his life and she gave him a warning and a nod which he aptly returned. As she pressed his back against his, The knights heart seemed to skip a beat, but he stood at the ready. “I bet I’ll kill more than you.” The knight muttered, sizing up the group of men already.

Wren chewed her bottom lip, hazel eyes unwavering while she kept her back pressed to Rand’s, taking in every enemy near them and their weapons. Her ears twitched at Rand’s challenge, changing her serious nature for the moment and making her smirk, eyes dancing. ”In your dreams,” she said quietly, the first of the infantrymen coming at her with a mace. She chuckled under her breath before her sword work began, moving and dodging when she needed to but keeping against her fellow mercenary so he would feel how she was dodging and not get caught by the same blows.

Rand felt Wren already get engaged in her own fight, a couple of men stepped forward ready to engage the knight, one armed with a long dagger and the other hefting a two handed sword. Rand shifted his stance so he could keep close to Wren and engaged. Parrying aside the man with the dagger was child's play, the man with the two hand tried to catch Rand while he was busy but ended up with a sword through the chest for thinking the knight was easy prey. “One”

Rand said and went back to dealing with the footsoldier with the dagger.

Wren blocked the mace at all angles, but another man ran up with a long sword. She licked her lips, grasping the mace just above the handle while the man looked over at his fellow soldier, using the opportunity to plunge her short sword through his body. As he cried out and fell, his buddy swung his sword. Wren twisted the mace out of the other man’s hands, ducking slightly and swinging the weapon towards the man’s knees. He dropped, but still held tight to his sword, which Wren began defending against. He faltered because of his injury and she sliced his throat with ease. ”Two. Easy,” she said breathing heavily, 2 more coming at the woman.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Rand said, parrying another swipe from the man with the dagger. The footman was wearing down pretty quickly, but there was no sign of sweat or increased effort upon Rands brow, the footmans last effort came in swinging his dagger wildly. Rand easily countered and cut the man’s knuckle on his good hand causing him to drop his dagger, Rand gave the man time to pick it up. Before cutting into the man’s neck above the shoulder, the man let out a surprised gasp as Rand put his boot on his opponent's chest and withdrew his blade. “Two.” He said, his breath heavy as he picked up the fallen footmans long dagger and shifted so he was standing next to Wren. Using the dagger he took one of the men by surprise and jammed it through his chin. “And three.” He chuckled.

“Oh shut up,” Wren mumbled at Rand’s teasing words, readying herself for the man coming at her with an axe. The other had a sword, and she placed him as second priority. At the moment her blade stopped the one’s axe though, Rand turned and killed the swordsman. ”Don’t,” pushing the man’s axe away, ”Make” kicking him hard in the gut ”Me kill you,” spinning half way to meet the axe again ”To get to” sliding out from under the weight of the axe and slashing down with all her might onto where the man’s neck met his shoulder ”Three!” she said breathlessly, sweat on her brow. She glanced over to Rand next to her and smiled. ”Thanks though,” she said, before turning in the direction Rand had been previously, a man with a short sword meeting hers.

“They look scared.” Rand shouted, studying these men. Looks of fear on almost all of them, one who didn’t seem afraid stepped forward sword in hand ready to challenge the knight. The soldier went for a stab but Rand slapped it aside with his blade. Rand slightly pushed Wren out of the way, so this man’s blade would miss her as he took a dive and a roll. Coming up he slashed the back of the man’s legs bringing him to the ground, a downward stab finished the footman off. Nobody stepped forward to challenge Rand after that.

Wren was fighting off the man before her, seemingly the last one stepping forward towards her. He was quite skilled as well, not that she would ever admit anyone was nearly at her level. The clang of metal rang out as they sparred. She felt a push and got distracted for a brief second, getting missed by the blade Rand had saved her from, but just stopping the other blade as it sliced into the same spot she’d already been injured, this time to the bone. She cried out, arms shaking a bit while holding back the other sword, but her resolve strengthened in her mind and she let out a huff while pushing the man back once more. She swung a bit haphazardly, but managed to catch an open spot and stabbed the man through. She stabbed him again for good measure, irritated he’d caught her.

As Wren cried out, Rand spun around. “Are you alright?” He shouted grabbing her arm and giving it the once over, his voice full of concern and worry as his hand grabbed her’s. “Was this my fault?” He asked, he asked speaking a bit faster but he was still full of concern as he studied her wound.

”I’m fine,” she said, a bit wearily as she too looked at the wound, seemingly unimpressed by it but sighing. ”No, it was my fault,” she said, moving her arm in a shrugging motion and looking up at Rand. Her face didn’t show any pain, though her eyes might have, as it did hurt though she was too proud to allow herself to cry out again.

Rand looked into her eyes, she was lying through her teeth but he allowed her to save face. “Alright.” He said and then continued on. “It seems we tied, and since i am a man of honor the victory goes to you. So what are your terms Wren?” He asked a slight smile on his face as he wiped some blood out of his eyes.

Wren let her hand fall from Rand’s and smiled, shaking her head. ”I don’t believe now is the time to discuss it,” she said in an amused voice, nodding over to where Joachim and Atl were fighting. ”You’re more use to them than I at the moment,” she managed to admit, turning her sword over a few times in her hand. ”Go,” she said firmly.

Atl finished up some war-painting, using the blood of the fallen opponent, and he did have the mace ready. He glanced down at his cat Slayer, who meowed at him. Then he glanced at the tribal woman he saved earlier. Then, Pale Hide Who Values No Honor, grew near him and shouted something about needing help, as he was reaching for his weapon. Atl glanced at Joachim, and gave a simple nod. "Yes." He readied his mace again, ready to kill, and if time allowed paint himself in more blood.

Astrid

An ugly screeching sound filled the air as Astrid and a warrior parried. She had managed to knock off his helmet and was now stuck with the misfortune of looking into his face. "My you are a pretty one, even with that blood stuck in your hair. When we're done here I'd love to have a turn with you." His deep voice rumbled out causing hair to rise on her back. Crinkling her noise she quipped, "And my your an ugly one." Continuing to hold her sword against his, she kicked forward, foot landing between his legs. Instantly all pressure was gone and he was on the ground. "Bastard, not a fair fight."

Spitting in his face, she reached down and grabbed his sword before plunging it into his hand. His scream rang out through out the battle, causing several of the assailants to stop and look. Stopping and grinning at them all, warm sticky blood dripping across her face in an almost evil smile, she took her own sword and stabbed it into his eye. The scream suddenly cut out, letting her know he was dead. Yanking the blade out, she watched as the men flinched away from her.

Turning and looking for the next battle she saw Wren on the ground blood seeping out of her arm. Her face seemed to be contorted in pain, it was pretty obvious she had been hurt. Moving to help her up, Astrid watched as a bowman drew back and arrow preparing to fire on the wounded woman. Running quickly towards her, Astrid grabbed a shield from one of the bodies laying around Wren. Holding it up just in time the arrow his the gleaming green metal and bounced off. Throwing the shield away, she reached into her boot and threw out a knife at the archer. The knife stabbed into his throat causing blood to spurt up and bubble out of his mouth. Sinking to his knees he quickly died.

Turning back around Astrid reached out a hand to Wren, an offering to help her up. Her other hand reached up and pushed the blood stained hair from her face. If Wren were going to survive, she would need to stand and defend herself. "Stand." Astrid was puzzled as to why she even cared about this woman's life. She was a practical woman, she didn't stop to help save the weak. Perhaps it was that she thought she could relate to Wren, at least in some ways.

Valentín


"Mother...as you said...it has started...", Vale said to the walls, his voice monotone and empty. His beautiful face was partly shrouded by some of his hair rolling over into his eyes. However, he didn't seem to care and made no gesture to move it. He walked up to the wall slowly, gently placing his delicate fingertips onto the cemented slabs of stone and began sliding his fingers across its frame, etching around any paintings that might have been in his way. "Ah, yes....of course mother...she is doing just fine...", he continued in an eerie tone, taking a moment to acknowledge a particular painting in front of him with his glazed eyes. He tilted his head and stared at it, as if he was hearing its thoughts.

He slowly swiveled around and oddly glared as a young maiden girl came into his room and informed him of the raiders who had begun an attack. "Master, a band of of raiders have begun an attack. Would you like me to bring the guards to your position for protection?", she said to him in an awkward and unsettled tone, making sure to keep her distance from him by remaining by the door. It was quite normal for people to be afraid or leery of him. His beautiful, yet ominous persona made everyone unsteady. He glided his hand to his bangs, and slowly maneuvered them out of his face to have a better look at her. His eyes were pearly and lonely as he responded in a low and ghostly tone. "Hmmm...guards you say? The guards are never around when the darkness comes. So....they are not needed now either...The walls say they will provide all the protection I need", he spoke, eerily looking around in a daze as though the maiden were not really even in his presence. She looked at him once more and bowed awkwardly, and all she could muster was, "Of course Nightingale.", before quickly scurrying away from his room.

"Nightingale....pretty...", he mumbled to himself. Reaching over to his dresser and picking up his book, The Road to Bastion, he made his way out of his room at a snail pace, slowly etching along like an empty vessel being pulled by strings. His body moved awkwardly and his attention didn't seem to follow any particular direction, though, his feet seemed to be the ones directing him.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"On and on the road does go,
Down into the depth below..."
"Off you went to call the king,
You wish to hear the Devil sing...", he began to sing, his hauntingly beautiful voice echoing throughout the corridor. This sequence of the same song went on repeatedly, and as he passed by, many guards who were posted on duty found themselves peculiarly entranced and scared for their lives at the same time. "What in the devil possessed him?", one of them mumbled. "No clue, but he sure is beautiful.", the other whispered back. Having finally reached his destination, the ghostly song seized and Vale slid his slinky hands through the crack of the opened door, slowly pushing it open as his gaze landed on the Queen. A smile managed to spread upon his countenance as he looked upon her as she was going through some papers. With one hand gripping his book and the other pressed against the cold wall, he slowly slid his body into her room and spoke in a low and almost, child-like tone. "My lady, mother has told me to come to you on her behalf. She wanted me to inform you of the raiders who have attacked...but...it seems as though you are already aware of this performance. Have you settled on which path you would like to go down?", he said in a worshipping like tone. His infatuation with the Queen, albeit a little weird, was sincere and protective no less. He held his head low as his long hair flowed over his face. He remained silent until she would acknowledge him.

"Oh, Valentin!" Isolde turned and smiled.
"Raiders? That's odd; I only heard of my dear brothers' messengers. Thank you for telling me; I knew I could count on my favorite adviser!" she cheered, tilting her head.
"If that's the case, Gnarl, I'd like you to do your duty as my mercenary. I trust there are already men riding forward to discipline these bandits?" she asked.

Sikarthis was not enjoying himself. He had expected (and hoped) that the knight he was facing would have learned from the mistake that allowed himself to be dismounted in the first place, reserving his strength and focusing more on using his skill as opposed to brute strength. Instead, his opponent had immediately launched into a flurry of wild swings and jabs, the full force of his strength backing up every wayward slash. It was all too simple a task for Sikarthis to bat them away with his longsword or step nimbly out of range. He had yet to even require the use of his shield, instead adopting a two handed grip on his longsword that was more than sufficient in dealing with the pathetic display of swordsmanship he had been pitted up against. Throughout their 'fight' Sikarthis couldn't help but notice his companions engaged in their own battles, suffering injuries and dealing death to opponents who, while by no means matched their skills, certainly tried a bit more than his own opponent. More importantly however was the couple of footsoldiers rushing to assist the knight Sikarthis was currently putting up with.

Without word or warning Sikarthis went on of the offensive, his longsword going from parrying and batting away swings to delivering blow after blow against the small shield his opponent had strapped to his left arm. Up and down again the blade rose, chipping away at the shaped lumber and driving the armored warrior backwards as he desperately attempted to regain both his balance and the upper hand. Neither happened. Tightening his grip on the pommel of his longsword, Sikarthis brought the sword down on the shield with all his might, sheering through shield, gauntlet, and bone all in one go. With a cry of immense pain and terror the knight fell backwards, his sabre forgotten as he attempted to stem the steady stream of blood flowing from the stump where his hand used to be. He cried out for mercy as he lay on the ground clutching his bloody half limb, sobbing and simpering like a craven. Sikarthis ignored him, turning instead to face the two footmen who were nearly upon him.

The first of the footmen arrived just as Sikarthis drew the shield from his back, swinging his one handed maul with the precision and skill more often attributed to veterans of several battles than an undertrained farmhand. Stepping out of range of the maul, Sikarthis swept his longsword down and across to put some space between them, raising his shield at the same time to intercept the spear thrust from the second footsoldier on his left. The Northman was pleased to find that his opponents were both fairly skilled and, more importantly, capable of working together well without verbal communication. For close to a minute the three of them fought, a blur of movement as Sikarthis parried, sidestepped and intercepted the various jabs, thrusts and swings from his two opponents, occasionally pushing back one or both of them with a series of cuts and feints. However when the spearman overstepped a lunging strike, inadvertently placing himself within range of Sikarthis' longsword, the Northman was ready.

Disengaging fully and suddenly from the maul wielding footman Sikarthis stepped in close to the spearman, his shield lashing out and flattening the man's nose against his face with a sickening crunch. Stumbling forward and past Sikarthis, he had barely enough time to drop his spear and cover his shattered nose before the longsword buried itself in his spine. The cry of rage from behind him told Sikarthis all he needed to know about what his other opponent was doing, and by the time the other footman realized that his overhead strike wouldn't hit his target the Northman was already pivoting down on one knee, his longsword slicing through the air as easily and cleanly as the boiled leather and bone of the unfortunate soldier's legs. Sikarthis ended the man's suffering before he could so much as beg for mercy. He had deserved at least that much for his display of skill.

Sword and shield dripping crimson, Sikarthis surveyed the battle continuing around him for a moment before stalking off towards where he had last seen the savage Alt and the younger Joachim.

Joachim was about to step forward and engage the enemy troops that were moving in, but they suddenly stopped in their tracks and slowly backed off before turning around fully and running away. Joachim looked behind him to look what made them run, but nothing caught his eye. When he returned to face the enemy fully, it seemed the main enemy force was disengaging as well, taking their losses and going home. A few of the men were being helped by their friends and brothers in arms, their wounds keeping them from walking normally. Joachim considered giving chase, but they were all pretty beat up too, and it wouldn't be useful anyway. „Looks like we won.” he mumbled to nobody in particular, surprised that everyone was still alive and well. All the horses seemed to be dead however.

Joachim walked over to the mangled corpse of one of the knights and pulled the helm from his head, to reveal an ugly pig-like face staring back at him. The eyes were staring into the abyss of the sky, something that was always a bit strange to see. But that wasn't what was interesting about this guy, no, it was his identity. „Aemon Howard, the brother-in-law of Aryen Ewain. Seems like the nearby lordships have taken an interest to the queens lands.” It was a strange ordeal however, with them getting rid of the Ewain insignia on their shields. Was it possible that Aemon had acted on his own accord due to a deal struck with the king? Pure speculation at this point, and Aemon was dead and couldn't clarify.

„We should head back and inform Gnarl and the Queen.” Joachim said with the utmost serious voice that he could muster. Looking around, however, Joachim found most of the horses had been slaughtered. It seemed the enemy opted to take out the horses first. There was no doubt that the villagers that survived could point them to some leftover horses. Joachim sheathed his sword as he went to stand straight again, looking at Atl and then the woman behind him. „Woman, can you point us to the nearest horses?” The woman was still a bit shaken but pointed to the nearby stables, which luckily hadn't caught fire. There seemed to be enough horses in there for everyone that needed one for the journey back. Joachim walked over to the stables, looking at the edge of the village that was by now deserted by the enemy -- they were clearly fleeing at a speedy pace. Once he walked inside he grabbed a horse by it's reins and headed outside, where he'd wait for the rest of his companions.

It seemed that the Ewain family enjoyed either a very strong tie to the king, or that they liked Stags Rest and saw this as an opportunity to wage war to obtain it. And by burning the village and murdering everyone or taking them a prisoner, they'd quickly drain the manpower of the queen.