If they surrendered their weapons, they'd all die. Nickolas didn't have to be a tactician to understand that. If it was to prevent that... he'd do something drastic. He could only hope that it would shock the banditry enough to give rise to an opening. He made sure to not look at anyone directly as he shoved his way to the front of the Reclaimers, the returning numbness in his leg the only thing that made walking bearable. He figured that if he had to be a distraction, he'd at least do it like a professional.

Nickolas steeled himself, muttered a barely audible prayer of forgiveness to Naga, and let loose a booming laugh. Fell light danced behind his eyes, and his pale flesh drained of any sort of color as he theatrically dropped his Dying Blaze tome.

"Tiny maggot with your tiny ambitions. I don't need a tome to tear out your soul."

He grasped down until he found one of the corpses of the men that had been killed earlier in the raid, and hauled it up as he touched the Flux tome that was slung behind his back. The curse came immediately with the sharp stench of rot, bubbling forth from where Nickolas had grasped the man and directly injecting itself into the corpse. It twisted and squirmed as the dark magic slid along and into the dead flesh. Bubbles formed under the skin and ruptured, leaking more foul gasses through the open mouth and torn flesh of the once-man's wounds. The body, weakened by rot, began to leak what could only be described as a chunky and disgusting smelling juice. A twisted grimace slashed across Nickolas' features and another cruel laugh tore itself from his throat.

"Little worm with your tiny sword. Did you really think a puny girl will save you from my wrath?" He stepped forward, crushing the already weakened skull of the desecrated corpse with little effort. He pointed a finger at the bandit as spittle sprayed from the dark mage's mouth. "G'narlak, Lord of Decay, will feast well on your rotten corpse as I devour your heart!"



At the sight of a hostage, the archer darted back toward the larger units of the Reclaimers, intending to use them as a shield against prying eyes. The graceful woman nearly tripped at the sound of harsh laughter coming from one of their own and spun around nearly immediately as she darted to the nearest human cover, the axeman she'd been lectured by earlier. Kuur glanced out for a moment to take in the situation. The sight that greeted her was... unpleasant. She barely held back her bile as the putrid corpse bloated and bubbled, organs melting into a disgusting green-brown mess that slid out of ruptured flesh.

Shuddering, Kuur nocked an arrow to her bowstring as the screaming rant of the dark mage reached its conclusion, her hiding spot behind the man known as Franky providing her time to consider which of the apparantly insane men she should shoot first.

Grimacing at the way the situation had progressed, Jakobe turned to Hugh and grimaced. Of course their enemy was willing to resort to such a tactic, they'd already been pillaging when the Reclaimers arrived. He was considering an attempt to convince the bandit that their best chance at not being brutally slaughtered would be to give up the girl and go home, but he wasn't sure they'd be willing to commit to such a thing. Neither side looked willing to back down, and the stand-off was the picture of tension.

Jakobe would have the advantage if he were to fight the bandit leader man-to-man, but the fact that they were holding a defenseless woman with a sword to her throat told Jakobe that these folks weren't the type to value honor or integrity. Put simply, this was a hell of a dilemma.

Nickolas's move was a hell of a crapshoot, and all Jakobe could do when he started his speech was look on in a mixture of horror, curiosity, and hope.

Oh, boy. It seems that they've taken a hostage.

"Gods, what a dishonorable dastard," Jeanne seethed, as she screeched to a halt upon reaching the rest of the Reclaimers. She sighed and lowered her grip on her blade.

She looked over at her fellow Reclaimers; it seemed that the general consensus was to not let the lady die. What kind of heroic honorable thief would Jeanne be if she let innocent people get nicked by a bandit's blade?

Jeanne tensed her grip once more, having reservations on that thought. What kind of honor comes from cowering in the face of danger like this? Why, the right thing to do would be to swoop in, blade at the ready, and duel this bandit-lord to the death for the life of the innocent woman! Jeanne was nimble enough to deftly avoid this guy's strikes (at least in her mind), and she could probably catch him off-guard as well--

"Habeen, why are you laughing?" Jeanne asked, snapped out of her mini-fantasy by the silent titters of the folk magician. "This is serious. I know dark mages aren't known for their sanity, but isn't this going a bit too far?"

"There isn't a thing to worry about," Habeen said with a smile. "He can press that blade against her neck all he likes."

Jeanne blinked. "Come again?"

"That's right, he can just hold that blade right where he wants it," Habeen continued, her smile unwavering. "I'm not putting my tomes down."

"Habeen. That's suicide! Or--or homicide!" Jeanne sputtered, lowering her blade.

"Maybe it is homicide," Habeen declared. "I don't really care either way."

Jeanne shook her head in shock. "You, my painted pal, are officially insane."

Habeen simply leaned against a wall and smiled at Jeanne. "Maybe I am," she declared, before cracking open a book and thumbing through the pages. "Now, where was I..."

"Habeen, even I know that this isn't the time to be peeking at novels!" Jeanne cried, flustered and appalled at the folk magician's behavior. "You want that poor dancer girl to have her neck sliced open?!"

"Hey, like I said," Habeen continued with a shrug, "he can press that blade against her neck as much as he likes." She made a hand gesture with her palm turned upward.

Suddenly, Habeen made a sharp jerk with her dark fingers, causing a brief flash of white to envelop her wrist. Immediately, a sickly vapor materialized around Malboro's sword wrist, deliberately avoiding the dancer woman, in order to make him drop the blade with minimal harm to the innocent hostage (and maximum harm to the bandit).

"However," Habeen added, her smile fading and her eyes shooting open, revealing a dark glare aimed at Malboro, "I didn't say there wouldn't be consequences to threatening that woman." She clenched her hand, causing the Mire to coalesce.

Gaius sighed, "The old hostage ploy, no matter how many times it fails, they just keep doing it." To the bandit, he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Why don't you save us all the trouble and surrender peacefully?" "Not that I actually expect you do so." He muttered to himself. Kuur could probably shoot him, Gaius thought. but we would need to draw his attention first, and the shot needs to be instantly fatal...If we did that though, the girl would be in harms way from the other bandits. Maybe the mages and I could lay down enough magic to delay the bandits until our melee fighters could close in. But all that is a big IF. It might be too risky, but the alternatives are either to comply with his demands or wait for the situation to change. But we should not act predictably, we should act intelligently. Then again, its not my decision. All this he plotted out in the space of a few seconds. And then he companions, who had to be thinking the same thing reacted. Gaius watched the drama unfold and made up his mind. At Nick's unpleasant proclamation, He moved closer and hissed, "Don't do it. Keep his attention but do not cast, let Kuur take care of the leader, when he falls, keep the men away from the girl." He turned to the rest and quickly but quietly told everyone else his plan. "I'll head straight to the girl and protect her." Lilith volunteered. Gaius then looked at Hugh, "Well Don, shall we go through with this?"

Expecting hostile lancers to exit the building Syrena caused blue flame to leap up in a half circle the area immediately surrounding the front the building, Franky and herself to ensure that no reinforcements could be called. She might be some help in the coming battle but Syrena was not a large or imposing force. She'd need the pirate's protection.

With Ronin and Arkhant acting as rear guard, Franky stood and watching the eruption of flames engulf the building. Franky had never simply watched a building go down in flames before. As with all fires, there was something intrinsically both majestic and wild about it, the understanding that it could be encouraged or quelled, but not naturally contained or controlled. Franky's memorization only lasted so long, eventually straddling souls attempted to escape through the front. Protecting Syrena was a simple enough job to do as the few that weren't burned to death flailing as they escaped the building, were too preoccupied with being on fire to begin a counter attack. At the time, Franky was standing next to Syrena, resting a forearm on the handle of one of his axes and a foot on the underside of the blade. Seeing the few stragglers peeter out of the building, Franky casually stood up properly and gripped his axe that he had been using as a stand and went to work swinging down on them.

There were three in total. Their prior predicaments made them easy to deal with. The problem came in reinforcements. Evidently, from the moment that Syrena's spell emblazoned the building, it caught the attention of the local vicinity of bandits and a scout party of three rushed over to investigate. Unlike the others before them, these three were not currently on fire, giving them sound enough mind to fight back. Franky's posture was more deliberate now that they had arrived, his movements swifter. He marched towards them, an axe hanging at each side. As the leading lancer thrust his spear forward, Franky made a chopping swing with his Iron Axe, breaking the lance in twain before it reached his body. Before he realized it, the first lance was poking at Franky's bare stomach with a broomstick. Franky already had his other hand raised and sent it crashed down into the lancer.

Franky's inane method of fighting provoked the other two lancers to pause while Franky stood with his axe in the midst of the leading bandit's chest. Franky pressed his foot on the bandits chest while glancing back and forth between the other two. The pinned bandit wailed in pain.

"He still be alive," commented Franky. "Any'yer willing to gamble yer'own lives, he might also be saved," he added, deliberately letting go of the axe in the man's chest and putting his hands behind his back, still pressing one foot into the lancer's chest. Franky wasn't being cocky, but was actually clutching at a pair of hatchets he planned to hurl into the other two lancers before they could get close enough to attack him.

The violent nature of her own magic scared Syrena more than a little. She'd really only meant to like the thatch ablaze but when she saw the first lancer exiting the building with his weapon ready her flames roared up and out of her control collapsing the roof and lighting several of there enemies on fire. Franky went to work on both the weakened ones and the new reinforcements that had been drawn by the glow of her magic.

She stayed behind Franky, or cowered was more accurate. This wasn't her scene. She should be back at home, learning her father's trade in bookbinding, getting into trouble with the farm kids. Helping everyone pack for the winter. At the very least she should be at the castle learning to control her abilities. The battle field was no place for someone like her. Syrena wasn't exactly a stranger to blood or injury. It was all to common for accidents to happen back home but the way Franky went after them mercilessly made Syrena feel ill.

Moments later several more bandits arrived to find out who had created the unnatural flames which was quickly turning into a blaze. The pub was a ways away from the other buildings so a village wide fire wasn't likely but if she didn't stop it soon there wouldn't be much left of this one.

With the introduction of more soldier's than either Franky or herself could reasonably fight the flames Syrena had created at there perimeter turned into a fence caging them in. "C-come on." she said grabbing Franky's arm. They couldn't hope to fight all of these bandits so the best option was retreat. It seemed the rest of the Reclaimers were gathering not far off. As they ran towards the fire fence on the edge of area Syrena concentrated hard and her tome began to glow. The fire cleared a couple meters in either direction as they ran through and sealed again. The other units would be forced to take the long way around to get to there captain.

It seemed however that the situation was no better on the other side of the fire fence. The Reclaimers were faced with an almost equal force and they had a hostage in the form of a dancer girl. Nicki attempted some sort of bluff which if you actually knew him was sort of amusing but to a stranger would be completely terrifying. There tactician was spreading some sort of plan but Syrena was too far away to hear what it might be.

Desperate to be of some use Syrena decided to try a gamble. Bluffing was not exactly her strong suit, especially with her speech impediment but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Syrena stepped forward only slightly behind Nicki. "G-go ahead. We're n-not going to lay down our w-weapon. S-so s-slit her throat. The moment you do you're f-forces will be o-ov-overw-whelmed." As she said this Syrena pushed her grimoire into her sling bag and started to move both her hands in alternate circles over a small space. Blue sparks started to leap between her hands and soon a fireball was formed. It swirled and condensed and expanded in between Syrena's hands. She could feel her grimiore fluctuating through her magic keeping it from overloading. "W-what's your choice?"

The leader of the Reclaimers was momentarily at an impasse. Personally, he'd never dealt with a hostage situation before, and had no idea what the best way to resolve it was. At the very least, he knew he wasn't laying down his weapons. He expected that other knights might decide to be the foolish heroes, and demand that the entire platoon disarm themselves, but Hugh felt differently. If Malboro had his way, he'd likely kill them all, and the lives of this army outweighed the lives of a single Dancer in his eyes, as much as it hurt to say it.

He hadn't long to think about the scenario, however, before his allies began to respond. Hugh watched in horrified fascination as Nickolas raised and then desecrated one of the carcasses the previous battle had lain on the ground. To be sure, Hugh had little sympathy for worthless hooligans who lived by stealing from and killing those only slightly better off than they, but to see such a ghastly ritual performed on anyone would have made the knight gag. He barely even noticed Gaius.

Plain to see, Malboro was repulsed as well, but he did not waver in his position. The taunts of the dark mage provoked from him a snarling response. “Don't think so, maniac. I'm a bad man, but at least I'm not crazy. That display of your reminds me of a Grimleal Cult I helped clean out back in the day, when I was still a hero. Are you a cannibal too, I wonder? Hardly the kind of warrior you'd expect to find in the noble Reclaimers.” He smirked before casting his eyes to Syrena, upon which any glee he might have hosted faded away. The little girl was wise beyond her years; Malboro had known from the beginning that if he used up his bargaining chip, he'd have nothing left to shield him from the wrath of the opposing forces. Quickly, he searched for a clever reply—perhaps a bluff of his own.

During that time, however, he had not been paying full attention to either Jeane or Habeen, acknowledging their chatter but expecting it to be nothing more than quibbling over the moral dilemma with which they were faced. The Mire sputtered against his leather armor, hissing and steaming, and a little splashed on the dancer as well. Dark magic, it seemed, especially given its users' typical luck, wasn't so easily controlled. Regardless, Malboro cursed, flinched, and lost his grip on not his sword, but the dancer. The woman, still red-eyed from the pain, pushed away from him but tripped, and the brigand leader thrust out a leg and kicked her toward the Reclaimers for a distraction of his own. Holding his injured hand, he ran backward toward the guard tower, yelling, “Charge!” His men, not at all confident of the situation, hesitated, neither charging nor retreating. Malboro raced up the ladder and out of sight.



The next instant, Sanguin was after him, like a wolf gotten the trail of bloodied prey. Her impetuous advance brought her head-to-head with one of the spear-wielding soldiers that Malboro had left behind, and without hesitation she brought her scimitar around in an ebony arc, smashing past the soldier's weapon and jarring the hands with which she wielded it. A moment later, the blade cut a bloody ribbon across the bandit woman's ribcage, and the two were locked in close-quarters-combat.

The remaining five soldiers stepped back, not wanting to surround Sanguin despite the opportunity, lest they leave themselves open to a brutal demise at the hands of another Reclaimer. Hugh raised his lance and shouted, “After him! Someone check on the girl!” He hailed Dylan. “Hey! If we all go up the ladder, we're at his mercy at the top. Find somebody lightweight and fly up there, keep him occupied while another pair ascends! If he's got both an axe and a sword, he's at an advanced fighting level, so be careful!”

Dylan was about to fly up to stop the bandit commander or whatever, when another Reclaimer called to him and gave him orders. "Yes sir, I'll bring someone with me." he responded to the man who talked to him before turning Andromeda around and moving quickly next to Syrena, grabbing her and hoisting her up with or against her will. "Hold onto me tightly, we're heading up to the top of that building to handle their leader." After the Mage was on, Dylan pushed Andromeda forward and with a sudden lurch they were into the air. Not waiting for any response from his new passenger, climbing to a height just above that of the buildings, before banking and heading for the roof the bandit leader was on, giving him a moment to speak. And realize how bad this probably sort-of looked.

"E-er, sorry for just grabbing you like that, but you're one of the few not wearing armor, nor are you very large. So between the two of us we should, uh, be able to take this guy out no problem. And I'll keep him from hurting you, if he tries." Dylan gave his passenger a nod, and they landed on the building only a moment after they landed, giving his involuntary passenger a chance to get off should she want or need to. "You can stay on if you wish, that way you're no longer and danger, and Andromeda is used to having t-two..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off the man he had come up here to fight. "Two riders, but if you need to get off or can't fight from up here, then by all means." He barred his lance at the bandit leader, ready to fight.

As some of the members of the Reclaimers each attempted their own way to discourage the bandit leader, Jakobe simply watched on, his halberd tight in his hands. He was waiting for the moment to strike. Between everybody speaking, moving, and enacting their own plans, the bandit leader was distracted enough that an attack landed, and despite hurting the woman slightly, the end result was in their favor: the leader was running, the girl was freed, and their enemies were momentarily confused as how to react.

Sanguin shot forward after the leader, but wound up locked in combat with another bandit, as Hugh called for the group to engage. Taking his cue, Jakobe gave a kick to Thunderclap's flanks with each foot, sending the pair forward as well. As he approached, Jakobe flourished with his halberd and moved between the bandits and the dancer. "Go now, we'll hold these bastards off! Get one of our healers to see to that wound of yours as well!"

"Maybe-"

Nickolas' snappy response was cut short by the timely intervention of the rest of the Reclaimers. He smiled, relieved that at least the young girl showed a way out of the situation. He struggled to keep himself to together as the magic keeping him upright began to fray at the edges.

The dark mage managed to look imposing up until the bandit leader retreated. He collapsed moments later, gasping in pain as arrow's pain came back in tandem with the promised agony of Marcus' healing. He bit back tears and thrust a hand forward to catch himself. It ploughed into the corpse he'd defiled, ripping open the bloated belly with a shower of disgusting goop. Retching, Nickolas struggled to hold in the contents of his belly as his consciousness swam around him. Darkness flickered in and out of his vision with every labored breath. His paling face hadn't been a part of the act as much as the fact that his leg was still sluggishly leaking blood. One way or another, he was no longer fit to fight.

Half dragging himself upright, the dark mage managed to pull himself over to the injured woman and check out the damage for himself. He wouldn't be able to help other than offer bandages after the healing finished, but his expertise in the field of dark magic could help describe the problems.

Green faced and now sweating heavily, Nickolas looked down and grasped the woman's uninjured shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Something that he later realized would be hard to come by, especially since he'd just threatened to eat someone's heart. He also failed to consider that his hand was still covered in putrid gore.

"Miss? Please get up and move back as Sir Jakobe holds them off. One of our healers will be here shortly."



She was in motion the second that the Mire tome materialized its curse, darting out to shoot an arrow into the nearest bandit. It impacted moments later with a meaty thud, punching inside the spearwoman's upper arm.

Kuur nodded as the woman dropped her spear in shock and pain, deeming it a satisfactory blow. It still counted as her kill, no matter who finished the woman off. Dashing forward into more hard cover(This time, one of the village houses), she looked over the battlefield. She caught the abduction of Syrena in passing.

The archer frowned, glancing up at the newest addition and their resident uncontrollable mage. That stank of trouble more than the insane northerner just plain stank. She didn't plan to be anywhere near that group as they swooped up and away. Instead, she took off again, making good distance as she circled around the guard tower. The dark skinned woman planned to take a shot from the ground as the armor of the group distracted the rest, and claim victory. Kuur smirked at the thought. "....Easy shot."

Whether her actions were wise or not moments later the standoff dissolved into chaos. Habeen tossed dark magic at the bandit leader and true to there horrid luck some of it spattered over the dancer hostage. Seconds after that the dancer was shoved to the ground and the Reclaimers began to charge. Syrena prepared to let loose her magic. Perhaps she could separate or disrupt there enemy in some way. She certainly didn't want to immolate anyone. As she was preparing however Syrena felt herself yanked into the air as a Pegasus rider slung her onto his mount.

In a wild flurry of surprise Syrena's fireball broke out of the containment she'd been holding it and shot over the heads of the Reclaimers and the enemy exploding in glorious light over the watch tower's midsection. It wasn't powerful enough to do structural damage right off the bat but the wood had begun to burn. They didn't have much time. Her flames burned hotter than conventional fire. If any of the Reclaimers wished to climb the tower they would have to do so before the fire became too intense and the smoke chocked the air from there lungs.

The man whose Pegasus Syrena found herself riding was unfamiliar to her. He wasn't one of the Reclaimers but he seemed inclined to help as he apologized for dragging her roughly from the ground. As the winged horse landed on the top of the watch tower the Pegasus rider assured her that they could take the bandit leader together and he would stop the axe wielding man from hurting her. But who's going to stop me from hurting them both? she thought to herself. If her magic got out of control this far up they would most certainly fall to there deaths. Nevertheless Syrena pulled herself off the mount and readied her powers for battle. She didn't want to kill anyone but it wouldn't stop her from defending herself, this man and the villagers below.


Marcus stayed to the rear of the Reclaimers as the fighting broke out. He was not one for battle but for healing the wounds of the injured and easing the pain of the dying. He knew before this war was done there would be dead to mourn. When the army rushed the bandits Marcus saw his own first targets. The dancer girl had been struck partially by the Mire curse.

Marcus remembered that one well. The slime magic had not exactly suited his fancy as a teenager. It was too messy and somewhat ill inducing. Still the show it put on could not be denied and he and the Black Dragon Guard had used it to intimidate. He knew that even the smallest amount of it would be deadly if not treated promptly. If left on the dancer girl's skin it would cause her flesh to erupt in pustule like boils which would then explode violently spreading more mire over her body. It wasn't enough to wipe it away from the surface. Though invisible the magic had worked it's way deeper and as Marcus moved his staff and heal crystal over her skin he focused on that deeper layer. The surface stuff began to instantly dissipate then below if slightly painfully the rest of the magic was expelled. He did the same on the pieces of clothing that Nickolas' hands had deposited the rotten debris from the corpse. It wasn't mire and so likely not as toxic but it was safer to remove it just in case. The sludge would have to be washed off by hand but any magic that it held had been disbanded.

With that done Marcus glanced over at Nickolas' wounds. There was nothing that could be done about the nerve damage cause by the ice dragon. It was too soon to reheal it, that could cause further damage but Marcus could repair the muscle damage down the by arrow. "This will be quite painful but in the long run you'll thank me." It occurred to Marcus seconds after saying this that as a cloister monk he shouldn't have had the kind of experience with dark magic that would lead him to be able to dispel the mire so effectively. He should have asked Nickolas's expertise on the matter before performing the procedure. No matter it was too late now to dwell on what should have been.

Marcus pulled the arrow as straight and precise as possible from Nickolas' leg before he started the healing spells. It was simple muscle damage and the wound closed in an instant. Lastly Marcus dispelled any residual magic the muck on Nickolas' body that his desecrated corpse might have possessed. As a dark mage he would have a higher tolerance for it but all the same it was not good anyone getting sick from something that could easily have been prevented.

Annoyance began to stir within Taene as the person charging him didn't simply give up and was steered forward by his beast. How was he supposed to avoid killing him if he was going to get into point-blank range? It was like the kid had some odd sort of death wish. More cold air began to gather between Taene's teeth as he decided that he wasn't going to be able to avoid killing his adversary. As he began to charge up his next frosty assault, he noticed the boy take off his mask. Presumably to avoid it freezing to his skin, which likely wouldn't have been very good for a young warrior. The face that greeted Taene after his mask was removed didn't intrigue him, and he tore his attention away from it quite quickly without second thought.

Surrender? ...I could. Doubt that my employers would be that pleased with a choice like that, though. Taene thought over what the kid preparing to charge was saying, and took particular notice to the fear that was heard in his voice when he brought up the threat of attack. The ball of frost within the drake's jaws was nearly finished forming, when... something happened. The sphere crumbled in his maw and dissolved into nothingness, and he let out an oddly low noise that had a quite quizzical sound to it. His attention snapped to the rider opposite him, and Taene suddenly spoke up.

"Boy. I shall surrender to you, and your men, as I wish not to continue fighting. I am done offering resistance. However," He began. "Before I make myself any more vulnerable to a man that might possibly kill me, I must ask you a somewhat odd question. You would not happen to have a warrior sibling, would you?" The dragon's voice took a much calmer, relaxed tone as he asked his question but it still managed to carry over the sound of his large wings beating as he maintained his flight. Taene quite hoped that his inquiries would go somewhere. He was very sure, more so than he was in many other things. Their faces lined up in a way that made almost no sense.

Habeen's smile had returned.

"Um, you do realize that you accidentally hit the dancer girl, right?" Jeanne asked.

"My goal was to make him let go of the dancer. I have achieved that goal," Habeen simply replied.

"Ought you to check on her?"

"Marcus is already on it."

Jeanne nodded awkwardly. "Listen, I'll take care of the brigands downstairs. You help storm the watch tower."

The fact that the watch tower was literally on fire seemed to fly over Habeen's head. "Hey, I ought to help finish the job, eh?" she asked. Especially since I accidentally hit the poor lady, she thought to herself. Shoot.

Jeanne drew her sword and flamboyantly circled it over her head. "Have at you, honorless brigands! Thou thieve but to merely thieve; thy grisly greed shall lead thee to a grim fate by my blade!"

Yeah, she was a show-off.

Jeanne immediately raised her sword and prepared to blitz the bandits. Her blade held upside-down in her right hand, Jeanne charged the bandit in the center and with a swift motion unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps. She gave the man a swift kick in the stomach before bringing her sword around to strike the man next to him, creating a larger opening for Habeen to run through and into the tower. And run she did; the folk magician sped through the opening in the enemy forces that Jeanne and Kuur had created, right into the burning building.

When Dylan and Syrena entered the top of the guard tower, they found the bandit leader waiting. The man looked suddenly older than he had when he'd been at the bottom; he bore the sagging visage of a man who knew he was about to die. However, his black eyes glittered fiercely, and they held no trace of mercy in them. When cornered, a beast would fight to its final breath.

He upturned his sword and jammed it into the wooden floor before removing his axe, evidently knowing enough about weapons to prefer a hatchet against a lance-user. This iron weapon he leveled at the pair, and spoke in a strange, toneless voice, “I knew death would come for me sooner or later. But if you think I'm going to let you take me easy, you're wrong—dead wrong. I'll show you how a former Hero fights.”

Snarling, he rushed at Syrena, swinging his axe in from the side. With a weapon advantage over Dylan, it seemed, he wanted to eliminate the potential problem first.



After an exchange of blows, the masked woman had the advantage. Her adversary, obviously intimidated not only by her opponent but by the whole situation itself, was unable to properly leverage the advantage given to her by her weapon. As she stumbled back after delivering a glancing blow, Sanguin charged forward. A surge of adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she yelled, “You're out of time!” The myrmidon leaped into the air and with her scimitar cleaved through her opponent's shoulder, finishing her in one shot.

She hadn't time to celebrate her victory, however. Sanguin felt a hard jab in her hip, and a moment later after she'd recoiled, the familiar trickle of blood across her skin. She whirled to face the soldier who'd attacked her and backed up out of the reach of his spear, nearly backing into Thunderclap as she did. A glance at the cavalier astride her convinced her that his help for the moment would be appreciated given her diminished vitality. “Yakob! Help me a second?”

Gaius never got to implement his plan, Smiles got trigger happy and everything went straight to hell. Gaius glanced around, decided that the others could handle the grunts, and took off after the leader. He climbed up the ladder with caution, holding his breath as he climbed through the rabidly thickening smoke. He stopped briefly when he thought to tie a hankerchief he had in one of his many pockets over his mouth and nose. As he climbed the ladder, he angrily thought, That amateur, if I was in his shoes I would have set an ambush at the top, or at least cut the ladder, maybe weakening a few rungs. Then again, why did he corner himself in the first place? He got up and found the bandit facing down Dylan and Syrena. Gaius didn't bother announcing his presence, he brought his tome out, muttered the familiar chant and sent a bolt of lightning coursing between his allies at the bandit. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with him, the unpredictable lightning magic missed his target, but the metal of the sword in the floor attracted it and caught the current.



As soon as the bandit leader dropped the dancer, Lilith charged in to protect her. She fended off the reminder of the bandits, intent on protecting the dancer and Nickolas long enough for Marcus to check and treat their wounds. Lilith managed to slip inside one's guard and slash open an artery, killing him in a spray of blood. six. She looked around quickly, checking on the others. Most of the rest of the bandits in sight were either dead or dying, except for a few still fighting here and there. She flicked her sword, to clear the blood away, spraying droplets in a crimson arc. You know, for a rag-tag bunch, their bravery is respectable. She noted. After all that, they came together one last time, and very few actually fled. Maybe, they have a lot of faith in their leader, if so, I can almost respect that.

Dylan nodded to Syrena as she got of Andromeda, not saying anything, and looked up as Malboro began speaking. He certainly seemed intent on a fight, while Dylan was sure the Reclaimers wouldn't kill him if he surrendered, though he wasn't so sure about the judge that would try him. "If you just-" Was all the Pegasus Rider got out before Malboro charged Syrena.

Dylan hesitated, longer than he should've before reacting what was happening. He had brought Syrena up here, and he'd never forgive himself if someone else died because of his actions. He pushed Andromeda to try and get in the way as Dylan stabbed forward with his lance, trying to get it in the way of the axe being swung at Syrena, thinking he could stop or at least slow it down so it couldn't do much damage. It was then that Gaius' lightning struck nearby causing Andromeda to rear up, taking off, as the thunderclap rang out, startling her. Dylan lurched as he tried to keep his lance in the way, but couldn't, and it ended up hitting the mage he was trying to protect a good whack on the torso and likely a short cut from the tip of the blade at the end of the weapon.

As Dylan struggled with the Pegasus to regain control, he was forced to move back off the top of the tower, fighting for the moment it would take for Maldoro's axe to finish its swing. After several longs seconds he managed to get Andromeda back under control, cursing under his breath. He didn't have time to think about what he was about to do. He had to act or Maldoro would attack Syrena again, or the new mage on top of the tower. He forced Andromeda at her full speed towards the Highwayman, rearing Andromeda up and stabbing with his lance so that the point of the lance would have not only the strength of Dylan behind it, but most of the weight of Andromeda as she dropped back to the ground, every intention of running the man through in the attack.

Six.

Kuur had counted just as Lilith had. While the archer doubted that the swordswoman had any intention of competing, it still stirred her fighting spirit. As Kuur hauled herself up the side of the house she'd taken cover behind, the memory of Lilith's carefully kept sword sprung to mind. The other woman was a fighter, and a good one at that. There was no shame in loosing to someone like that. She grunted as she dismissed the thought. That was weakness. She wasn't going to lose to anyone, much less a woman who barbarically carried around what amounted to a cleaver.

The green eyes narrowed as she glanced up at the top of the flaming guard tower. The distinct form of the bandit leader stood out even behind the wafting smoke that obscured the features of the assaulting Reclaimers. The bow creaked as Kuur lined up her arrow and kept her breathing slow and steady as she waited for the time to finish the man. A smile played on her lips as her breath stirred the taunt string. She only needed a moment, an opening. When he was wounded, when he was overconfident, when that guard dropped and she had the perfect shot.

She'd win.



The dark mage barely blinked as Marcus skillfully removed the remains of the Mire curse from the downed dancer. While his old master had been a healer of rare skill, he'd always assumed that was the base for competence. The Reclaimers were in good hands.

"Thank you, good Sir Marcus. For both my leg and the girl." He ruffled his hair, glancing up at the burning building where he could just barely catch figures moving around. "I'm no help with actual healing, I'm afraid." His features suddenly twisted in pain as he tried to stand, falling onto his rear as soon as he tried to move his wounded leg. The dark mage gestured to the tower. "Sir Marcus? Can you help me up, please? I have to help them up there."

Kel was caught off guard with the mention of having a sister, but wasn't in shock. Anyone can have a sister, a warrior sister is rare but that wasn't Jace. Couldn't be, since she was such a bookworm and the letters she sent seemed like she was doing well for herself in some village, working in a shop baking breads and such. Nothing warrior like about her. "I'm sorry Dragon, my sister is no warrior. But your surrender is nice. Now you're gonna land ok?" Kel spoke, he wasn't happy to let this thing live but the fact he almost had his face taken off minutes earlier weren't giving him his old confidence.

"Her name is Jace, by the way. My sister." He continued his descent, trying his best to hold his ax ready to swing, maintain eye contact with a dragon and keep Druug from acting out. It was a handful and a very stressful situation. He saw something else flying out of the corner of his eye and just hoped it was something friendly, as opposed to actually checking who it was. He flt Druug hit the ground and before dismounting awaited the dragon's next move, ax still ready to swing, Druug still in battle mode. Nothing around him could break his focus. Not the lightning crackling in the distance, not the bandit leader ready to kill the two soldiers he had barely known. Not the remaining forces that were distracted by being killed by his fellow soldiers.

The fact nobody had stepped in to help with this dragon gave him a confidence boost, helping him focus more. Druug was still ducking his head, spreading his wings and generally trying to be threatening. A familiar smell exited his throat as a plume of smoke shot out. Kel Blew his hair out of his face in sync with the smoke. The flight mask was now thawed on the ground in pieces, not even salvageable. "Now, I don't know how this works. Dragons don't fit in caravans. The only way I see this working is if either I ride you or you just flap your wings on that-a-way." He didn't motion a direction or even look a different way. That-a-way could be anywhere, but it was for sure not here.

Gaius cursed as his magic went awry, startling the pegasus, and Malboro charged Syrena. "Hey! Ponyboy!" He shouted at the pegasus knight. "Change of plan, grab the girl and get out, we will let the fire finish him! Or, if he makes it out, we can set a trap of our own. Gaius thought. Then he realized that Dylan needed help and after he nearly killed Syrena on accident. Gaius sighed as he drew his sword, and charged forward, thrusting at Malboro without breaking stride. He followed his strike with a backhand slash.



Satisfied that that rest of the scattered bandits were taken care of, Lilith walked over to the healer and his patents. On the way over, one of the people lying there grabbed her boot. She looked down with dispassionate eyes at the woman with an arrow on the inside of her upper arm. Lilith studied the wound for a moment, before raising her sword and finishing her. seven. She strode over to the healer and said "Nickolas, right? You're awake, good. That was quite a show you put on back there. So, Marcus, how is the girl?"

Habeen, upon reaching about a quarter of the way up, felt a hot blaze in her face. It was then that she realized that running into a burning building is probably an awful idea, and that she ought to offer support from a distance; she did have Mire, after all.

Habeen wheeled around and whistled as she walked back down the stairs. She didn't intend on suffocating via smoke before she reached a higher state of understanding, after all. She wasn't quite that well-traveled yet.

Habeen walked right out the watchtower to a scene laden with corpses. "Oh, gee, that's pleasant to walk out to," she said.

Jeanne wasn't quite sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Whatever happened to charging up the building and Fluxing that brigand's bloodied behind?" Jeanne asked.

"Eh, I thought better of it. Turns out that running into a tower that's just been lit ablaze by a stray Arcfire or something isn't the best way to stay alive," Habeen replied with a shrug.

"So... you turned tail and ran?"

"I certainly turned tail, but as you can see," Habeen said, casually flipping her book open and eyeing the window of the watchtower, "I'm no deserter."

She snapped her fingers and the white circles reappeared around her forearm. Habeen then pointed at the window just as she saw Malboro flash by, and loosed the tome. Mire has VERY good range, though it is difficult to control by virtue of its status as dark magic. Habeen crossed her fingers and hoped that it wouldn't hurt anybody other than her intended target, Malboro.

Though given the general rotten luck of dark-magic wielders...

Grunting in reply to Sanguin, moving towards her attacker with a look of anger in his eyes. "Since you've been so rude as to refuse our generous terms of not killing you, and you've hurt one of my allies, I have no choice but to destroy you utterly." Raising his halberd, Jakobe brought it down, severing the spearman's forearm from the rest of his body. As his weapon curved down towards the ground, Jakobe redirected it, bringing it forward into a one-armed stab, the spear-end of his halberd driving several inches into the other's chest before coming to a halt.

Pulling his weapon out of the now-deceased bandit, Jakobe held tight as Thunderclap moved away from another attacker, but not without sustaining a long wound to his flank. Thankfully, the damage wasn't serious, but it would definitely become dangerous if left untreated. Glowering at the offending bandit, Jakobe grabbed his longsword in his off-hand as he replaced his halberd on his back. The attacker leapt backwards, trying to draw Sanguin and Jakobe apart, but the cavalier wasn't about to be fooled, sticking by his battle partner. "You gonna be alright, there?"