Griswal blinked as the pelt-wearing man quickly trudged away from him to strike out at the enemy. Yet, with two of Grado's own in the way, Retario deliberately stopped short- pulling out a book and beginning to chant. Griswal was fortunate he had his helmet on at this point, because he was quite certain there was no way for the knight to mask his own surprise. That was undoubtedly a spellbook, and those motions were were of the Anima magics...

As if to confirm his observation and snap him out of his stupefied stance, a bolt of lightning crashed down from unseen heavens and fried one of the Jehannan fighters. While Griswal tried to react and rush to the fray, he found himself quickly and suddenly overtaken by the band of vagabonds rushing forth to break through the opposition. A moment later, the Gradian Prince Alvin himself too soared out on his wyvern, throwing a mere sidelong glance to Griswal as he flew to meet his fellow prince in the combat. It unavoidably troubled the knight that the royalty he was assigned to were both so aloof and eager to fly into battle, combined with the raw fact that he couldn't keep up speed-wise.

Occasional times like this, it gave Griswal some regret that he didn't take up cavalry himself. Or at least gave him the idea that he wished to become one of those Great Knights in the future. For as much as he managed to trust Alvin and Marwood's combat prowess alike, it was very much Griswal's job to make sure they only went and got themselves killed over his own dead body.

As best as he could afford, Griswal plodded forth with haste in his heavy armor, hailing for the two remaining ladies to follow in his wake. In his (currently failing) rush to break forth to the front lines, the Grado knight glossed over the presence of an excessively shady thief and a defiant Renais swords-woman among the throng of people behind him.

“Sup Ret,”

Ret lifted his fist from the slightly sundered floor, bits of loose cobble and dirt peeling off his scarred knuckles. Ret looked sideways and up at Archibald,

“why you punching the ground…?” Archibald asked.

He raised one eyebrow at the question,

" ... Picking 'tatoes."

“…and why do I smell burnt flesh?”

"Lunch." Ret burped unceremoniously and shrugged. Archibald sometimes took awhile to notice his surroundings, but whenever Ret looked at the fringe covered portion of his friend's face....... he understood why.

Though it did not explain the sudden death glare, Ret noticed, that happened between Archibald and a horse. A horse? With wings. Peh ...peh, pehsi-something. Looked delicious.

Standing straight up, Ret offhandedly slung a tuber he conveniently snatched up to Darius, who was behind them ...and missed horribly.

"Baldy." Turning back to the archer,

"Gehenna want rock. Want enough to war. But cannot give. Now must fight." Ret glanced sideways, distracted by the clink of armor. Yet another wave of soldiers were upon them...

It seemed that their moment to talk would soon be over. "If Baldy want go home. Understand. Help bring Baldy home." Retario stuck out his right foot and swept it in a semi circle in front of him,

"But help them first."

Then he slowly raised his left hand with tensely curled fingers, the tome he carried by his side flipped to certain pages of it's own accord. Smokey earthbound sigils previously drawn, now rose from the ground and positioned themselves in before him like a veil. He pulled his fist back,

".. promised."

He said, then immediately struck through it with a forceful punch. What came out from the collision was akin to thunderclap... archibald knew that when Ret promised anything, he would honor it no matter the cost. What he had agreed to exactly, remained a mystery, but it was clear which side he was on.

The two soldiers had come running forward, lances raised, their natural instincts as soldiers of Magvel telling them to go attack the one that was wielding a sword over there due to the advantage they would have due to the weapon triangle. However, as they were running forward one of them was suddenly struck by a thunderbolt from the not-very-mage-like-mage on the other side of riding prince while the other had to spin around with a lance raised due to the intercepting Pegasus Knight, failing badly as the soldier failed to protect himself and received a pin-pointed strike at his chest, injuring him and striking him off for a bit. This allowed Marwood to exchange to lance before their attack. The staggering electrocuted soldier proceeded to attempt stabbing the prince, but was unable to hit due to injury and the laps in ability, and the incoming jabs accurately felled the soldier. His companion intended to stand up again to attack, but the Lexa and Nightmare’s second charge turned too much for him.

On the east side of the battlefield Sion, Rhodri, Nethanel would be starting to engage the Grado lines. The hunks of armor fought valiantly, but King Sion and his men were simply superior, and the fact Sion was using a Lancereaver somewhat stunned the General before him who had made a poor choice of weapon. Rhodri’s brutality was going by the General in front of him despite the General using a sword and should have weapon advantage, while Nethanel had caused grievous damage to his lance-wielding General and not being hit at all despite another fight against disadvantage. That fight would not be continuing for long. Looking over this on the map within his mind, Aldo would look in that direction and tell those closest. “We should move with all haste… Or they’ll see us rounding the corner…”

“… So we’re sitting in the Throne Room instead of meeting them with our forces?” Garric would question, looking back at Rioga. Rioga would make a small, somber nod, and inform… “We need Sion to desire to hunt as deep into the Keep as possible before he realizes what he’s after isn’t here. For that, we should be protecting the most secure location, and that would be here, the Throne Room. This will delay him the longest, and give them the longest amount of time to escape.” Nero would have his eyes closed over there, awaiting the coming battle. “… Keh… I see…” Garric would say with a tone of not liking this one bit, but having no choice but to abide to this. … And then suddenly two archers came running up from the east staircase up on their left side.

“Sir! We heard you needed reinforcements in the Throne Room, so we came as soon as we could!” … “… Huh?” Garric, Nero and Rioga would be left kind of just looking at the archers, knowing no such order had been given…

Carlson and Leonard proceeded to flee west through a corridor that does not lead out of the Keep. To the south of where the soldiers were defeated, there was this makeshift wall created to keep them in, while the majority of the Spike Guild was still trying (failing) to get into the treasure chamber.


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What the soldiers fell to was reminiscent of a mauling, the trio of creatures with their Human keepers surrounded them and with a barrage of pointed metal, the battle was over for them.

Though it looked like the creatures themselves did little work, did they know how to even attack? Ret momentarily wondered. If not, Ret could demostrate to them later a proper mauling.

If there was a later.

Looking up beyond the stairs where the enemy were legion, he wasn't so sure...

"L-Left!" Ret hollered with a hInt of uncertainty when he saw the corridor around the corner. But what he did not know was that almost everyone here obviously knew exactly where to go, they lived in cities afterall and unlike to him - buildings weren't inescapable death boxes to them ...

Down the hallway were more 'Gehenna' troops, they would not stand between him and fReedom!

Alvin's competitive side smirked with the prospect of Marwood's challenge. Just like the Prince of Renais to make the matter of fleeing for their lives a game, still it did serve to lighten his mood a bit. The prince bowed back to Lexa as best he could whilst astride Medea. "Prince Alvin as I'm sure you're aware, you have my eternal gratitude for assisting us in our flight." When the lancers came upon them Alvin got in a few jabs but Lexa and Marwood took care of them for the most part.

With the immediate threat of the due lancers eliminated, Alvin took a moment to scan his battlefield map in his mind's eye. He saw that Sion and his generals were making quick work of the eastern defenses. "We have to hurry...." The prince muttered to himself as he started formulating a plan.

After a few moments he broke out of his reflection, turning and giving Griswal a sly grin and a wink. "Howdy Grizzly Bear, about time you caught up. Where's Aldo and Kalte? I thought they were right behind us. Anyway Sion's coming up quick so we need to get moving, pass it along to the rest that we're getting out of here now."

With that he turned to the mysterious mage who didn't really look like a mage type in front of him. "Thanks for the help, I'm Alvin, Prince of Grado. I would very much appreciate your assistance in escaping the castle. We'll continue down this corridor straight out of the Western Gate. Could you hang back a little and cover us with your magic?"

Finally he turned to Lexa and Marwood. "Alright here's the plan, Lexa you and I are going to charge down this corridor and engage the two lancers down there. Marwood, you're going to hang back until the the axe-wielder enters the fray, he's yours. If Lexa or I get caught by him we'll be in trouble. After the lancers and axeman are dealt with there'll just be Myrmidons for us to clean up, shouldn't be a problem. Our friend here is going to assist us with his magic so we'll all be fine." Hopefully was the unsaid word at the end of the sentence. Hopefully they'd make it and hopefully this endeavor wasn't doomed from the start.

With that Prince Alvin brandished his lance, gripping the reigns of his mount with his off hand urging the great winged beast forward. "Fly Medea, fly! Fly to glory, fly to ruin, fly to the last Light of Day!" He chanted the battle chant of all Wyvern Riders of Grado as Medea took off, flying straight down the corridor towards the enemy lancer. He threw his lance straight into the air, giving Medea a signal to do an aerial loop for him to catch the weapon, diving straight for the lancer's exposed neck.

Ret turned and looked rather perplexed when alvin spoke to him, more and more so the longer he was talked to. It wasn't the look of bewilderment he showed, it was the look of hesitation. There were words clinging to the edge of his teeth, yet he remained silent.

He was the kind of person who had no qualms talking to others, it was when they talked back! Then he had issues.

So Ret just stared at him awkwardly, the same way he did with the soldier before. Well, at least this one didn't yell at his fRiends...

There was a mention of bears which prompted Ret to grit his teeth and aggressively look around, but all he saw was alvin winking flirtatiously at the knight? That wasn't a bear. Was it? Was he a shapesshifter? He didn't look like one. Ret knew quite a few shapeshifters.

Then, alvin, as if under some possession started singing a song out of nowhere!

...

....city-folk were so weird.

It was all almost enough to make him forget the crisis they were midst. But when Ret saw the Gradian royal charge into battle, nary a care that he had the stone - and straight into enemy lines... his eyes slowly widened.

The vein in his head throbbed. "Like I said, don't call me that," Archibald said through gritted teeth as he screwed his eye shut. Still, he listened to the wild man speak his nonsense. He...could barely make sense of it at least. "And while you're at it, learn some proper Magvellian," he added as he removed a small ceramic jar from his belt. Dipping a finger into it as he uncapped it, it came out covered in a stickly amber resin which he proceeded to suck off. It was sweet in his mouth with a slight minty refreshing taste, but started to grow harder as he chewed. "But I think I get the gist of it. You promised to help these...prudes, right?" he asked as he vaguely nodded his head in the direction of Alvin and the others. He sighed. "And I know that your promises are harder to break than a bandit's share of loot." Running a gloved hand through his hair, he let out another, deeper sigh. "Alright....tell you what, just this once, I'll help the Grado dirtbags with their little fight," he said as he kicked a loose cobblestone into the wall, "but only until we get the hell out of here, got it?"

It was then that a wyvern rider approached, addressing Retario...and acting like Archibald wasn't even there. He spat onto the ground as he left. A Prince...great...He didn't exactly have the best opinion on royals in the first place, but those near the top he assumed to be the worst. He might as well be a ghost to them for all he was worth. He gave Retario a look of 'do I have to?' before shaking his head. Like Retario, he had promised to help, at least until they left the castle. And to a bandit like him, honour was almost all he had left. That and 3 sacks full of dried meats, cheese and potatoes. Oathbreakers were, in his opinion, worse than the royals. As he thought about that, he spat out the gum resin in his mouth, where it splattered against the wall. "Alright...lets do this," he muttered as he unslung his bow from his shoulder, striding forwards with little hurry.

As the wyvern rider closed for an attack, Archibald was already in the midst of preparations. With his index and middle fingers, he plucked one of the arrows from his quiver, letting it flip around his fingers before catching it in his fist. Raising his bow, he nocked it into position on his worn beastgut string and reeled his arm back, feeling the wood of his bow begin to creak. Everything seemed to slow down in time as his one eye concentrated on the target at hand. The apprehension on the soldier's face as he attempted to bring his shield up to parry, the face of the man next to him as he scrambled backwards. The spittle dragging down from the wyvern's lips as it charged headlong into battle. Archibald narrowed his eye. Wordlessly, he released his arrow. With time dragging on as it did, Archibald saw the shaft of the arrow quiver as it shot forwards. He saw the few splinters on the crude wood split off against the bow. He could pinpoint the exact time where the fletching caused the arrow to spiral. He smiled. This would be a close shot.

Within the next millisecond, time seemed to normalise. The arrow became nigh on invisible to an untrained eye and flew straight and true. Towards Alvin and Medea. As they rose into the air for their attack, the arrow seared past them close enough to scrape off of Alvin's greave, leaving a small discolouration and a single spark as it barreled straight for the soldier's flank. Archibald aimed to maim. Not kill. If someone who wasn't him or of his band finished the job, so be it. It was then that he heard a sinister voice in his head speak to him, but he shook it off. Now was not the time.

Marwood firmly jammed his lance at a soldier trying to take him down as he listened to Alvins plan. "Alright if that's how you want it, I don't see any archers down the hall so just watch out. I'll cover you both and if you get injured let me know I can take your place until your ready to return to the front." He said lunging back one of the soldiers. He figured this would be a simple fight however they were proving tougher than the average bandits however after this they both be left dead. Spinning his lance he towards the remaining unhurt and slammed the spear tip home in the chest. His armor cracked as the tip of the lance struck home deep in the chest breaking ribs and no doubt puncturing a lung.

The prince then turned back to the others. "We should move, quickly before this gets out of hand. No doubt more Jehanna's forces are moving this way with there great generals and king leading them. We need to hurry! All of you who plan on getting out might wanna come this way quick!" Yelled the prince as petted his horse, she whined and clapped her hooves against the cobblestone floors as he prepared to spur her on to follow Alvin and Lexa.

As Griswal managed to trudge up alongside the prince, he expressed a somewhat relieving (if a tiny bit regretful) sight that the princes had still managed to make short work of the Jehannan soldiers. It would seem that their motley band's odd new allies were managing to prove their worth. Still, a feral-dressed man like that, casting magic? Certainly wasn't what met the eye, he was...

"Howdy, Grizzly Bear," Alvin quipped to the Grado Knight once he took note of him, "About time you caught up." Truly, if there was anything the prince of Grado was known for, it wasn't his ultimately princely attitude; more accurately, it was his lack thereof. Griswal returned the comments with an aggravated snort - yes, the armor was bulky and heavy, but it did exactly what it needed to, provided he could at all manage to stay ahead of the prince.

"Where's Aldo and Kalte? I thought they were right behind us?" The young wyvern rider mused aloud.

Griswal twisted around to shoot a glance behind him, attempting to confirm the assumption. "They are," the knight said, to be quickly overwritten by the prince's announcement of his further plans. Hearing the idea to alert them, Griswal turned to call back to the pair, "Aldo, Kalte, everyone! We're going to make a break for it before Sion gets any closer!"

When the Grado Knight turned back around to face Prince Alvin and the rest of the group, he managed to overhear the remainder of Alvin's current battle strategy. Without even making mention of Griswal's use, Alvin broke out of the huddle and charged forth with a cry of his Wyvern Rider's creed. Gritting his teeth again, the armored man bucked up and thundered after Alvin, yelling out, "Wait for me, you clod! I know you're doing that just to spite me-!" The young prince's zealous and excessively intricate technique would only carry him so far...

He was heartily interrupted in his attempt to catch up by the sudden sight of an arrow barely scraping off Alvin's armor to strike one of the soldiers. Griswal halted just long enough to fire off a threatening glance at the offending archer - that punk kid from before, who apparently knew the wild man - before he resumed charging after the reckless prince.

Arathyra looked around nervously, oh it was far to loud here what with everyone tramping around and fighting. She saw Griswal move in front of her and followed close behind making to keep him between her and anyone who wasn't clearly on their side. Arathyra clutched her healing stave worriedly looking ahead at those charging into battle, she did hope they would be careful and not get hard, that would be no good at all. Arathyra practically spun in circles trying to keep an eye on everyone at once but luckily as far as she could see everyone was in pristine condition. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she careful followed the in the heavily armored knights footsteps. Far to much yelling all around.

The soldiers prepared themselves for the ensuing combat, raising their shield and spears to meet with the incoming enemy. Due to the given commands and currently being of NPC status until Skittles takes control of her again, Lexa would not in affirmation to Alvin’s plan and have Nightmare soar forward, part-way into the air as much as possible inside this castle that apparently doesn’t exactly have a roof considering Habit was walking on the wall earlier, in any case.

The soldier which Albin flew towards did raise his shield to defend himself against the attack by the Grado prince, not aware that he had attracted the intentions of another individual on the battlefield. Alvin was the superior fighter of the two and had the supported strength of a Wyvern’s charge, he would have been the one to come out of the encounter victorious, however before Alvin was able to strike an arrow soared through, shot from Archibald’s bow and hit the soldier exactly where he was intended to be hit, the soldier yelping in pain and falling over with an arrow going through his armor in his side. He wouldn’t be dead, though if Alvin continued his strike he would likely be. Regardless, this battle was over for this soldier. Though, exactly as was predicted the Fighter behind them would leap forward, physically dashing forward with a glee in his eyes as he would attempt to jump at the wyvern-mounted Alvin, grabbing his axe with both hands to attempt striking at the currently lance-wielding prince in order to take advantage of the weapon’s triangle. Of course, since this was already part of the strategy…

Meanwhile, Lexa would charge down and attempt attacking the other soldier. However, this was not done with as much success. The soldier was able to lift his shield and parry the attack, proving to be more skilled than his company gave him credit for, and unless someone comes up with a timely saving or her player reappears Lexa will be inflicted with a minor injury on her side, the tidings of battle showing off its dangers. In addition, the soldier had moved aside a little in order to allow a mercenary to jump forward and try to strike in addition at Lexa, hoping to take advantage of the current numbers in that particular encounter to take her off-guard. Lexa would probably be able to avoid the blow, weapon’s triangle and the speed of a Pegasus Knight on her side, but at that point she’d possibly be sitting in a little spot of trouble.

Assumingly Aiph and Darius would be following after Archibald, trying to keep up. Aldo would aim a stare at Griswal and after aiming a glance at Kalte the two would dash after, hoping to at least get past the corner so that Sion wouldn’t see them when he came through the door…

… On that side, Sion had already sliced through his opponent, the general falling as Sion stood proudly and swung his sword to clean off the blood. Like his king, Nethanel had also finished off the General he had been fighting, but no such motion of cleaning seemed to be necessary for him as he simply smiled and sheathed his sword. The two shamans who had been standing behind the generals raised their hands to combat their enemies, but powerful spells of flaring anima magic suddenly flew over the heads of the symbols of the invasion forcing them to jump into the corners for their lives, rolling around on the floor with burning robes trying desperately to put out the flames. Meanwhile, the druids on the ledges west and east of the corridor prepared to shoot their magic to injure, but as if completely ready for that the enemy Sniped moved in and sniped at a speed and force which magic-users simply cannot handle. Both stunned Druids fell as Sion walked up to the door…

“Key.” He asked, and a Rhodri (who had left his opponent as a shaken damaged mess leaning against the wall incapable of movement) grinned behind him as he lobbed a key (which he had taken from said General) which landed perfectly in Sion’s hand. The king of Jehanna held a serious expression of combat as he inserted the door-key and opened up the large door, letting it swing open as he looked out over the remaining defenders on the other side of the door, who held their weapons with determination despite the fear they had for their enemies.

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Ret crossed his arms, nodding approvingly at Archibald's choice to merely wound the soldier - and also to his question. It looks like this would not be too dIfferent from the good old days. With perhaps an even more righteous cause this time round? More righteous! The thought instilled vigor into him.

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As the fighter charged the wyvern rider, his axe would suddenly erupt with a blinding light when electricity leapt from it towards it's wielder. Ret's right palm was facing the offending soldier and the book in his left fluttered in an unseen breeze, 'Over your dead body' Ret's stern scowl seemed to say.

Watching as the soldier collapsed to the floor, clutching at his wound, Archibald narrowed his eye. 'Good...Strike back against those who have wronged you...make them suffer...' whispered a voice in his head, causing him to gasp in pain as he clutched at the right side of his face. "Now...is not the time!" he forced through gritted teeth as his hand clenched the bow hard, the other pressing down on his hair over the eye he had screwed shut. Shaking his head, his hair parted momentarily, revealing a flash of white. Whether it be a mask or talisman, no-one except him knew. And he intended to keep it that way. Suppressing his inner demons as he leaned against a wall, Archibald grabbed another arrow from his quiver and nocked it onto the string. Taking a step forward as he brought the bow up, he narrowed his eye again.

Focussing in front of him, sounds became duller as he ignored his environment, steadying his aim. His arm shook and he was visibly sweating. 'Spill their blood...' whispered the voice again, almost lovingly, 'an eye...for an eye...' Gritting his teeth again, his vision swam in and out of focus. The wyvern in front of him struggled as the axe-wielder jumped in, making a clear shot hard. The red and dirty white fletching of his arrow whistled faintly in a passing breeze as a scream was cut short. The wyvern darted in front of him again as his eye narrowed further. 'Take the shot...I care not where the blood spills from...' With each passing second, the voice grew more malevolent. The old wood of his bow creaked as he tugged the string tighter, resting it against his thumb against his cheek. The wyvern darted past again. With a thundrous crash, the fighter was struck with lighting, but that was not all. Startled, Archibald released the arrow, his eye widened as it flexed against the air pressure before soaring straight and true.

The fight was erupting into havoc. With Grado's own prince leading the group, the line of mounted units charged the reforming Jehannan offense. With some trepidation, the archer and spellcaster were also lending their aid to make short work of the incoming mercenaries. Redoubling his own efforts, Griswal hefted himself forward to fill the gap as he was supposed to.

At last able to put his armaments to use, Griswal approached one of the sword-wielding mercs trying to push his way through. Blocking the man's path, the Grado Knight thrust his lance forward to meet the man's abdomen. The pointed edge hit true, gutting the man just below the ribs before Griswal pulled back. Fighting off the painful shock to the stab, the swordfighter leaped up with a defiant cry to split the knight head in two. The armored man shifted himself enough for the sword to strike elsewhere - between his helm and pauldron, hacking slightly at his shoulder.

This twinge of pain did not go unregarded, as Griswal moved to shove the foe back with his huge shield. Between this and the man's own backpedaling, the two combatants were reduced to a brief standoff again. "You will not bar our path!" The Grado Knight cried out to the Jehannans in force.

Alvin was a little surprised by the arrow that clipped his greave, actually he was downright shocked. Enough so that if the arrow didn't strike true and hit the enemy lancer Alvin wasn't likely to hit him either. The prince's head whipped to look behind him, spotting the offending archer. He'd never seen him before but apparently he was trying to help........Or not

He brought his attention back to the battle at hand, the lancer replaced by a warrior with an axe. Alvin knew he had to back off, if that warrior got too close he and Medea were finished. All it would take was getting inside the range of his lance, then the warrior could wreak some true havoc. With that thought in mind Alvin tugged on the reigns, causing Medea to pull back in response.

"Marwood now! The Warrior's all yours!" Alvin called as he drew back behind Griswal who was valiantly fighting a swordsman. In truth Alvin really wanted to help Lexa, unfortunately there was no way he could get in there to help. "After we finish this lot off there's only two more that stand in between us and the gate." He informed Griswal, in a rather serious tone coming from the prince. "Oh and if these guys are too fast for you Grizzly Bear I can handle them." The prince added in a tone that was much closer to what you'd expect.

Arathyra looked around nervously, well from what she could see from back here it looked like they were winning, and that it was very loud. If they were winning though that was good. So many noises, the crash of metal on metal, the loud thwang of bowstrings, even the crackling of magic in the air. Her gaze happened to alight upon an archer who looked like he was in pain, although there were no wounds that she could she see. Never the less she rushed over to him her face full of concern, "Oh dear, are you alright?" she asked worriedly, her stave at the ready, so far everyone else was doing remarkably well for being in a pitched battle. The only other one in their group that had taken a hit was Griswal and his armor made the damage minimal, she would still run over to him next and take away what pain she could.@Harbringer

Marwood watched the arrow that nearly hit his friend and chuckled. "Someone's not happy." He chuckled and turned his horse ready to charge in the moment Alvin gave the word. He wondered where they would go and more importantly who all would be with them? Perhaps he should ask his knights or even his brother for help in fighting this war... Okay maybe not his brother, he couldn't risk the crown prince. After all he may have been mother's favorite son but it was his brother that would take the throne not him.

He would ask the Riders if they would join him first chance he got, perhaps even ask Frelia if it could spare troops, history between Renais and Frelia had always been good. However his thought was broken when Alvin yelled, his horse charge as he drew his sword and ran in swiping the blade right at the warrior, a smile etched in Marwood's face. His eyes glowed as if right now he more alive than ever. "Surprise!" He yelled as attacked, joining his best friend the madness of combat.

The fighter was struck from three different sides, he did not stand a chance. From above came a lightning-blast he had no power to dodge while trying to leap through the air and strike at the Wyvern-riding prince, the electricity jumping from the weapon into his head and electrocuting him. After that, an arrow came flying and hit where it was intended to, the fighter now already injured past the point when he could continue fighting. However, completing the original plan at hand Marwood arrived and swiped him a final cut on the man before he fell defeated over towards the side. On the other side it would appear that the mercenary which was intercepted by Griswal was injured and held his guard against the plate of armor he clearly couldn’t injure, meanwhile Lexa managed to strike back and injure the side of the soldier which had managed to hit her.

“…” The mercenary which had yet to join the actual combat looked at what was clearly a losing battle, and then it appeared he made a calculated decision before he span around and dashed for safety. The steps were clear to the two remaining, somewhat injured Jehannans, who exchanged a quick look before making the unanimous decision that ‘this isn’t worth it’, whereas the both of them took steps backwards and hid behind the pillars of the corridors, hoping that the party of escaping Grado individuals would simply pass by without issue. They would obviously still defend themselves should they be struck, but the party should be able to pass by unopposed for the moment should they desire to.

“S-sir!” The mercenary that dashed away shouted as he was approaching his Guild Leader at the southern entrance, Morag glaring at him with a relaxed, but mildly annoyed expression with the spiked mace (that somehow counts as a Steel Sword now) over his shoulder. “We need to retreat!” The mercenary called. “The enemy coming down the corridor is too strong! We need to regroup, get reinforcements, alert King Sion and-” Kaplow. There was a stunned silence from the mercenary as he fell over rolling across the floor, having just taken a heavy hit from the handle of Morag’s weapon. The Guild Leader glared after the rolling individual, with disgust in his eyes.

“… Lie there, and watch. Sion needs not bother with trifle matters such as this.” Morag glared ahead, something in his eyes telling that he knew a tough fight was coming, but he wasn’t facing away. He held his spiked mace forward with both hands in a stance that anyone would recognize as a stance you should be holding a sword, except he was doing it with a spiked mace, a feat impossible without considerable strength. “I cannot be breached. I am Morag of the Spike Guild.” There were signs of a grin forming under his mask for those with considerable analytical ability. The fighter to his right (also somewhat more capable than the average Spike Guild member) smirked, seeing how his Guild Leader just took the stance he’s the most fearsome and dependable in, and held his axe ready to fight as well. They were ready.

On other places on the battlefield, Sion and his two closest men carve their way through the Grado defenses, held back only by the amount of units they can attack per turn while Grado forces run to defend. … And a single female Myrmidon who had not planned on being on this battlefield in the first place had noticed the escape through the western corridors and was now stalking them, because that’s what made sense from a survival point of view.

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Ret grimaced watching the soldier fall, maybe all this killing has gotten to him. But he quickly reminded himself that they were the ones who attacked first, showing them sympathy was unreasonable - they would have shown him none. This was to save the world. Right?

Right.

So he grunted and shrugged it off.

Seeing how poorly the enemy ranks were treated by their own side, Ret felt a pang of indignation - he glared at the one who just raised his weapon against their own soldiers.

"Kill fat one, maybe little ones run." In the wilds, killing off wolves who attacked - caused their remaining members to flee. Especially killing the fatter ones first. It seemed that Ret no longer considered morag human.

"I'm...I'm fine," Archibald said as the initial shock of his arrow release left him. Turning to the young healer, he flashed a somewhat faked smile. "I'm completely fine, no need to worry," he said as he smoothed his hair over the right side of his face. No-one needed to know. 'Why do you hide yourself?' the voice rang again, 'be true to your desires!' With an intense internal effort, he gagged the voices and once more locked them in the back of his head. No-one needed to know... Closing his eyes, Archibald took a deep breath and steadied himself. The initial sweat had dried up now as a cool breeze blew past. They were nearing the entrance now.

Opening his eyes, a wide smile appeared over his face. "Alright you sons of bitches!" he shouted to Aiph and Darius, "just a few more leagues and we're home free! And the only thing standing in our way is Morag!" This elicited a cheer from Aiph and a a small grunt and spit from Darius. "Let's show him the same hospitality he showed our boys a month ago!" Archibald hissed with little malice, his hand resting on a particularly colourful looking arrow. For every enemy, Archibald had a special arrow made for them. In Morag's case, it was a cruel creature. With an easily splintered shaft and a hooked, barbed bone head, this thing was meant to shatter upon insertion...and stay there. It wouldn't necessarily kill him, but it would most definitely hurt. The voice rose up to the surface again as he fingered the rough raven feathers of the fletching. 'An eye for an eye...' For once...Archibald agreed. The torture and murder of one of his men would not go unpunished.

He and the Spike Guild leader were very much opposites. Archibald was carefree and fun loving. Morag was cruel and greedy. Archibald commanded his men through respect, camraderie and friendship. Morg ruled by fear and an iron fist. As such, it would only be natural that the two would meet each other in combat sooner or later. Dashing forward, his cloak flapping behind him, Archibald cleared the wall and came into view of the guild leader. "Oi! Morag you pox-ridden, ponce brained, limp wristed sheep fondler!" he yelled across the distance separating them as he pulled his hood up, "I've come to repay the hospitality you showed my boy last month!"