Fleuri Jodeau

Granted a brief reprieve from battle by the orcs' disorganization and the trolls' singleminded charge forward, Fleuri raised his visor to better scan the battlefield. He still could not spot the form of the Knight-Captain, however, and he could not afford to stand around doing nothing; he had to act. What would the Knight-Captain desire that he do in this situation?

She'd want me to not worry about her, and with the townspeople still safely behind the walls, she'd want me to aid my brothers and sisters, he silently concluded, just as he spotted Klaus battling a troll some distance away. She had maimed it quite handily, but it was still going, oblivious to what ought to be both unbearable pain and serious bodily distress. As you would command, Captain, he thought as he lowered his visor and tightened his grip on his zweihander.

"For Reon!" shouted Fleuri as he charged. Without his horse it took more time to close the distance, but he was deceptively fleet of foot even fully armored. The scarlet garbed knight rushed in from behind, swinging his sword horizontally into the back of one of the troll's knees. He preferred to strike killing blows as quickly as possible, but with the troll's great stature and hunched posture, there wasn't any place where he could decisively cut it down from behind, not without more strength than he could muster. And with the damage Klaus had already inflicted to the beast's arm, a grievous enough leg injury would leave it more or less immobile, and by extension, vulnerable to a killing blow.

"Klaus, finish it off!" he shouted to his sister-in-arms.

@Noodles

The troll under assault by the combined efforts of the enormous wolf and his mistress toppled backwards, its great head hitting the ground with a wet thump as dark red blood spewed onto the grass. Beheading a troll was hardly a common feat, to say the least, and some of the defenders on the town walls looked on in awe. This truly was the work of the Iron Rose Knights. The Order of Justice that destroyed the wicked and protected the innocent.

Indeed, now three of the trolls were dead(though one was possibly simply unconscious), and another had fallen, vulnerable to a lethal blow. The orcish forces were failing, but they did not yet seem ready to retreat. And still there stood six trolls on their feet. One troll swatted an unlucky knight to the ground, baring down on him. Even his armor wouldn't protect him from a direct blow, and he couldn't feel his left leg...!

Fanilly ducked under a swipe from the troll's clawed hand. It bellowed, perhaps in frustration. The blonde girl was well aware her weapons were not the best suited to killing a troll on her own. But she knew of weaker points across their bodies, places where their natural armor was thinner. Under the arms. The back of the legs. If she could hamstring the beast, too, its neck would be within striking distance! Another swipe nearly took her off her feet, but she jabbed its hand between two fingers. It snarled in pain, but soon was distracted when a hail of icy weapons struck it.

"Ah?! Sir Tiral?!"

The mage knight had come to her aid! The troll, along with the first of its kin that had been drawn by the arrows and magic bombarding the creatures, began to lumber away... though it was considerably slower, as if reluctant to leave its current foe. From this angle, however, Fanilly could strike its heel and bring it to the ground!

And yet...

Tiral would absolutely see it. And as a mage, he would have some inkling of what it was. There was what almost seemed like a spark of purple light from a distant treeline, and suddenly a rush of light and sound as something tore right towards the captain and the troll. Only ceasing his bombardment and trying to create some kind of barrier could possibly intervene...!

Klaus gave no time to waste, as she knew the anatomy of trolls well enough. No matter how durable they are, the heart, if stabbed, will let them lose consciousness. Just like the training this morning, Sir Fleuri has carved up another opportunity for her. And she wouldn't let it go away, not this time.

Klaus, with her one hand grip on the edge of the handle, thrusted her left hand towards the troll, making a slight twist as the tip sinks into the troll's heart. Her 'Piercing Moon' style was that same familiar technique that is used on various occasions, and she only uses that when she was certain she could kill her enemy.

Withdrawing her blade from the foul coloured corpse, Klaus sliced the body into pieces to lighten the falling weight of the troll's body. After all, an attack must have a beginning and an end. Despite thinking that way, she didn't bother shaking the blood off the blade. With her blade's fuller still thick with troll's blood, she galloped her horse towards another troll. She splashed the blood at the troll's eyes by making one rough swing of her sword, pulling the rein just ahead of the blinded troll's reach to observe what that thing would do next.

"Good, good! Don't let up!" Tiral shouted out as he watched the trolls slowly attempt to refocus their attention on the rearguard. While one was already slowly moving at the ground, the other seemed to just be torn between staying or going—ironic enough, given how they were probably too dull-witted at the moment to think beyond 'swing weapon at object in front of self'. This, of course, gave the archers and other magicians more than enough room to casually fire away. As Tiral continued to survey the battlefield from atop his horse, though, the slight glint of unnatural purple light caused him to freeze up. It took only a moment to estimate where it was headed, and his face immediately tensed up as he leaped off of his horse and pointed his dagger out at it.

"Position... Target... Gods be damned, I think I'll have to try this one," he swore under his breath before beginning to chant as fast as he could under his breath. As soon as it was complete, the mage shot out a small bolt of ice at his target, and not a moment too soon; just as the magical projectile could've gone through the Captain, the bolt of ice managed to collide with it. In that instant, the ice seemed to deform and curve, redirecting the magical attack towards the troll instead. Left in its wake, of course, was what looked to be a flower made from ice.

"...Huh. Irregular magical composition combined wi—oh, whatever, that's not important now. Men, keep firing! Focus on our initial target! I'll handle the one near the Captain!" he shouted, getting back on his horse before resuming his earlier tactic.

Indrau wheeled his horse around, away from the destruction he had caused to that flank. The residual heat from the blast would make that area difficult to cross for some time. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a streak of light that was deflected with just an instant to spare.

He urged his mount into action, galloping towards the treeline. He drew his blade once he was far enough away from friendly knights to avoid disrupting their magic. Indrau didn't know who else might be able to break away from the fight. Most of the other knights appeared to currently be bogged down in the melee, including his own lancers.




It only took a moment to catch her breath and pick up a fallen orc weapon. When the first enemy moved towards her she drove the point of the weapon through its armor hard enough to snap it off at the hilt and throw the orc into those behind it. Salz snarled what was undoubtedly a expletive in her native tongue and dropped the useless handgrip.

She found something more suitable on the ground, a crude looking club. With it she began to batter her way towards where the knights seemed to be concentrated most heavily.

Eyeing the battlefield, things were mostly going to plan--the orcs backed away from the bloodstained lunatic that had carved a troll apart with all the finesse the brutes themselves liked to display. The captain was under attack but any magical threats were being countered by their own magic users. The trouble, such as it was, lay in their reserves having already rushed in--so this would have to be the entirety of the enemy force. That, and a knight in perilous danger...

There wasn't time to think about it, but there was time to move, to run through the battlefield and intercept--the easiest choice, and safest; block this troll like the one that she had before. Only, she didn't--moving as fast as possible at the troll, the paladin didn't consider breaking, meeting the unstable creature's swing with the full force of her body and causing it to overbalance, unable to feel the force and appropriately retain its footing. Implausibly, the troll had been knocked onto its rear.

Which put its roaring maw within easy range for a sword to the back of the throat, adding another to the body pile.

"Can you walk?"

An uneasy whirring sound caught her ears. While the troll's eyesight is still blinded by blood, Klaus looked back to see if everything is okay. A knight in a tight situation, but that is taken care of by another familiar Knight. And a blast of magic aimed against one of the Knights. Since when are there magicians amongst Orcs?

Whipping the rein, Klaus turned her backs from the troll and had her horse sprinting for the woods, the place where the magician seemed to be hiding. The strongest Order of Knights would never lose a battle against Orcs and Trolls. Its a matter of time before they fall, but the 'big fish' must be dealt with before they threaten anyone else...

Entering the treelines, Klaus took note of the noises of the forest while following the trail of Indrau from the back. It wasn't very often that she would face magic users, but she knew that magic needed an incantation, and she must be wary on when it is about to be casted.

It wasn't necessary to handle the troll near Fanilly. Only the fact that magic was backing up the barrier of ice prevented it from shattering, merely warping its shape. The true destructive potential of the thick, purple beam of magical power became apparent as it was deflected. Beneath it the ground blazed red hot, solid rock liquifying from the sheer intensity of the magical attack. The troll was engulfed in an instant. Its entire body, skin, flesh, bone, was vaporized in that moment, leaving nothing but a fine mist barely visible to the naked eye. The beam rent its way back towards the treeline, only stopping once it struck the earth itself. In its wake it left a scar of molten rock in the terrain, and a glowing pit at its destination.

Fanilly's eyes widened in shock. Of course, she knew magi were privy to all kinds of spells, but orcs were no magi. And that was no ordinary spell. You didn't have to be a magical expert to know that it was an incredibly powerful offensive spell. And it had been aimed directly at her. It was hardly as if she'd never been in danger, but somehow... somehow this felt different, somehow this felt like...

... Like that time before she was Captain... that time where she... almost...

The blonde knight shook her head.

"Sir Tiral!" she called, "Thank you for the cover! Iron Roses, do not allow another spell to be fired from the treeline! Be vigilant and ready for anything!"

She tried not to make it obvious her voice was shaking. Fanilly was the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. If she let them notice how frightened she'd become... She couldn't. She wouldn't allow any damage to their morale. No matter what had happened, they were still winning! The Orcish forces were fading fast. Some of them had fled the battle entirely, and the lingering orcs were falling to the Roses.

Heading once more into the fray, Fanilly tried to keep the matters at hand in mind. A magical attack had been mounted on her, but she had already noticed... Sir Indrau? And a pair of other knights had approached the forest. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted in battle for too long, but she had to ensure she didn't lose sight of another potential magical assault. If a beam that strong had struck the bulk of the Roses...

An orc fell dead as Fanilly cut through its throat and upper body, leaving it to hit the ground. Another was pierced through its chest as it raised its weapon, but now the target was the trolls. The trolls had to be slain as soon as possible!

The knight whose life Tyaethe had saved struggled to his feet.

"I... I am fine, Sir Radistirin! I-agh!"

He staggered. Though his face was concealed, by his voice it was likely the oldest knight in the order would recognize him as Sir Avlin, a relatively junior knight who had joined the order in the years after the defeat of Phoran Cal. He was a skilled fighter, but it was clear he had not been prepared for a blow from a troll. And from how he was holding his leg, it looked like he had sustained an injury bad enough to inhibit his ability to walk.

"... Ah, damn, I had to open my mouth, didn't I...?" he commented, with a hollow laugh.

The trolls' numbers had been cut again. Another lay dead, another blinded and wildly flailing, slaying several orcs as it trundled towards the knights, seeming only to locate their location by sheer bloody-minded murderous intent.

For the remaining four, one was still advancing towards the ridge, as the others battled the knights. Ultimately, it was the knights that were approaching victory. The strength of trolls was at its best when they were allowed to rampage, able to bring down crushing blows before their foes could react, fear keeping their enemies from reacting quickly. Eventually, however, the mighty beasts would fall.

At the treeline, the spot at which it seemed the beam had been fired from seemed vacated. But, burned into the bark of a tree and glowing a faint purple was the image of a simple heart.

---

Eyes wide, Lyrie stared in horror at the battlefield. The beam that had erupted from the treeline had burned through the earth, annihilating one of the trolls in seconds. And... had it been aimed at her cousin? The girl had never experience a battle before, let alone against trolls, let alone with the sudden intervention of high-powered magic. Could she help anyone here? Was she any use at all? The small girl shuddered, clutching at herself as she sunk to her knees slowly.

"Wh-what use... c-could I be here? I-if anyone's hurt will... will I even be... be able to..."

Glancing at the fading "flower" of ice and the lack of a troll corpse, Tiral let a nervous smile creep onto his face as he continued to have the other members of the rearguard fire away at the first troll that he had fired at. Given how the others in that group seemed to be handling themselves well enough, the mage-knight took a moment to estimate the strength of that magic spell. Initially, the spell that had been cast to reflect that blast of magic was far less elaborate that it had ended up actually being... Which made the fact that it had shredded what he had put forth in such an odd manner all the more worrisome. Under ordinary circumstances, that barrier would've remained as is, but given the fact that not a trace remained of the earlier troll, there was a very high chance that this was all a setup by someone else. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't already figured that out, but even so...

"Ah, I want to pursue, but I'm not sure if I'd be the best choice to combat someone who can fire something that destructive..." he complained to himself before returning focus towards the first troll. By chance, he happened to glance over at the young girl who had accompanied them—the Captain's cousin, if he recalled correctly. Bringing a child to a battlefield was in bad taste of its own, but in a situation like this hesitation and fear was something that group morale couldn't afford.

"To your feet! A healer is someone who brings relief to a battlefield, and more than anyone else it is you who they look to for aid! An 'angel' has no room to cry, to weep, to fear—not when there are people who need their help!" he shouted, hastily trying to come up with something that might rouse her confidence. "If you cannot stomach the fields of war, then retreat to a safer location and return once you are more suited to facing death in the eye—unless you wish to see those who could be saved die right before your eyes!"

He had to admit, the words he spoke were... Harsher than he would have preferred, but in a situation like this, Tiral had no leeway to coddle anyone.

"You're not fighting like that," she stated, looking at the injury. Not life-threatening, if she could get him to somebody else it would be fine to go off after that laser, wouldn't it? With a magic user that strong, it might even be needed for her to do it right now... but if it wasn't treated in time, there was no guarantee it would heal right. As much as her sword hand itched to get back into the battle, there was a healer now. She couldn't leave Avlin here if that was the case.

Tyaethe's bedside manner would definitely leave something to be desired: picking the knight up, ignoring any complaints, and slinging him over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. On the positive side, this meant her shield was covering him from any further damage--though lying face-down on a back soaked in troll blood would be a horrifying experience.

The path back to the ridge was easy, Tyaethe barely slowed by her cargo, and so immediately after Tiral's speech, it would be put to the test... a knight soaked in the blood of foes, depositing an actually-wounded knight before Lyrie.

"Leg."

---

"What the hell?" the half-Nem said under her breath, left in shock for a brief moment as her eyes took in the sight, even amidst her having been occupied prior with sending a hail of arrows into the fray upon the orcs and trolls remaining in the field of battle.

The bright purple beam was reflected back, leaving a dent in a magically-generated shield and a scar of molten rock and flames in its wake as it had rebounded back towards the treeline proper, and in no small amount she could tell right away that this was no small-scale magic. This was a large spell, something that required a lot of mana to use....and had been directly aimed at the captain, a direct attempt to assassinate the knights' leader on the spot with overwhelming and absurd force for a single attack. But if she could get to where the attack had originated...hmmm....perhaps she would be able to be of some use if the enemy was still nearby, being a magic user herself of course. Not that she doubted the capabilities of the far older and more experienced Sir Indaru and his runes, of course, but even so it could be a risk.

Biting her lip, Cymbeline noted that even with Sir Tiral's support, the captain might potentially be targeted again. Potentially of course, even though they were currently winning.

Breaking into a run, the half-Nem mage-archer of the Iron Rose Knights moved over to some of the dead bodies of orcs that now lie on the ground, grabbing up a few of her arrows and putting them back in her quiver before looking over at the blind and lumbering troll head towards them. Dropping to one knee and into a solid firing position, Cymbeline wheeled her bow around towards the blinded, raging troll, before pulling out one of her sigil-marked arrows still covered in good part with orc blood. She carefully knocked and aimed the arrow at the blinded troll's throat, her breaths slowing for a moment to ensure careful aim, her arms taking account of the wind, before....

Mana ran from her into the sigil on the arrow, flaring up its power as the arrow was released. Moving through the air at great speeds, the arrow flew towards the troll's head with a sort of bloody grace, the sigil seeming to glow even more as it neared its target, the tiniest of cracks only beginning to form on the arrowhead.

Were the arrow to hit its mark, or anything for that matter, the arrowhead would explode on impact, shattering in a burst of magical energy that would usually take a chunk out of flesh from a target and send small fragments of arrowhead out as well like shrapnel. Albeit, a very limited amount of it that would likely be lodged in the troll's body.

From here Cymbeline would fire two more recovered arrows of the normal sorts both in succession at the blinded troll's left knee, seeking to incapacitate its movement somewhat if the initial arrow did not kill.

From here she would turn her attention to the one of the other four trolls still advancing towards their ridge, loosing two more arrows aimed at that troll's throat in succession as well. Were that magic user to reappear or attack again, she wanted to maintain this position to try to assist in protecting the captain...or any other nearby targets for that matter. To that end she wanted to conserve more of her mana, that one sigil arrow fired at the blinded troll being an attempt to end it fast and allow herself to focus on other targets and keep an eye on that treeline.

---

---

Parrying, deflecting the blows of, and cutting into orcs was a labor, albeit a necessary one in the group's current situation, Elissa felt that with many of them being mopped up the trolls were the next most important matter at hand. Beyond the one that seemed blinded, and one still advancing on the ridge, the remaining three were not seeming to make much progress. At least, at the moment. As her blade stabbed through into an orc's armpit under its raised arm, and into his chest and straight into its sinewy heart, the orc collapsed to Elissa's side in a dead, bloody heap as its blood fell off in drops from her sword once the blade was withdrawn from its corpse. Looking over after this as her eyes moved to the rest of the battlefield, she cooly took in what her plan of action would be, before blitzing off on her feet towards her next target.

Seeing her sister had moved a bit more forwards than normal, probably to pick up some of her arrows, Elissa turned her attention to where her sister was aiming at right now. As it were, this was at the lumbering troll still coming for the ridge. Internally rolling her eyes at her sister for not having sought to take aim at the thing, she adjusted her shield in her right hand and sword in her left as she moved to get behind the still-moving troll.

'Take this, you hadrid!' she shouted within her mind, not actually aloud of course, as she swung her sword at the troll's tendons on the back of its right leg whilst moving, aiming to essentially hamstring or partly-hamstring its leg to hinder movement or perhaps cause it to fall over in a hit-and-run attack.

She'd already had to replace a few swords this battle, but not enough to be in danger if she had to replace them a few more times. However, the shield she held was in at least "working" condition for deflecting blows, albeit this was a troll and not an orc.

Personally speaking, she had not blinked too much beyond a moment at the captain nearly being disintegrated by that magical purple beam, knowing that the "captain" had an actually experienced knight at her side for that. Sir Tiral, if she recalled correctly, was a well enough mage and knight to handle things there, she assumed. And indeed, he had managed to reflect the beam with seemingly some effort. But of all things, aiming for this little girl of a captain was a sad move on the enemy's part in her mind. Such desperate measures at a time like this, trying to kill a girl in the middle of battle with an overwhelming attack. Albeit, tactically it was sounder than some things.

It was not that Elissa didn't care for her comrades, as she had already been trying to take the front from the more injured knights among the group so they might be able to pull back and rest in this current battle alone, but to her personally Fanilly was not the linchpin of this operation and their forces despite being the highest ranked member here. It would not be good, nor did she wish death upon the girl-captain who was younger than her, though whilst her death would have been...well, shocking and terrible, it would not have as much of a loss for combat prowess to her as one of the major fighters like Sir Indrau or Sir Radistirin or even Sir Tiral himself would be if they died here. Without those needed people of great experience and age holding the line with the others and keeping the pressure on, the knights' forces in her mind might cave to just enough troll then even if Fanilly herself was still among them in such a situation.

But perhaps she was being cynical about things, as it were, but it was not like she hadn't thought of what potential losses of certain members would do in this battle. It sounded rather cold even by her standards, but that also was why she didn't really talk about that to anyone. Sure she'd once or twice drunkenly rambled on the matter among the members dissenting knights in the order in regards to their dislike of Fanilly being the head of the Order itself, but as it were she'd listen to the girl's orders out of respect for her rank. However, to her that was it. A rank, much like how a countess could command her servants. And until this blond girl eventually led them into a situation that her age would foul up, she would obey her superior's orders and follow her into battle.

Sure, Elissa herself was only eighteen years old, but she had worked for this spot, earned it, gained it from practice and proving her worth. Her sister had gotten to this point as well in that manner. Fanilly, on the other hand, had been handed this on a silver platter. Sure there could be the work to earn respect in such a title, and to prove she was worth the effort and value of some old tradition, but with there being enough of a dissenting party among the knight in regards to her....well, had Fanilly earned this yet? Elissa personally was not sure, but she felt this leader of the knights, in her own humble opinion, would make or potentially break their tradition for choosing a leader.

He dismounted at the tree line, sword unsheathed and held ready. Unfortunately whoever had fire the bolt of magic seemed to have already left, their initial attack having failed. Either they expected a followup to be deflected as easily or that single beam had been at the limit of what they could achieve.

Indrau turned and glared at the glowing sigil in the tree for a heartbeat and then drove the point of his sword through it.



Salz returned to the frontline where the remaining orcs were heaviest, swinging withe the oversized club that might have been dropped by one of the trolls. It was heavier than she was used to and not as versatile as a spear but she made use of it with brutal efficiency.

Klaus halted her horse as she stood beside the treeline, having a moment to gaze at the glowing heart symbol. She couldn't imagine an orc, out of all races in the world, would carve a symbol like a heart. Turns out that it have left, and she wondered if she should pursuit deeper into the forest. Her life in the borderlands tells her two things: Orcs never uses magic, let alone making a delicate symbol like this one... She wasn't sure whether stabbing the symbol is a good idea, but its better than doing nothing.

"This isn't the work of an orc, I'm sure of it. Another race must be on their side."

She said with a frown, she had never heard of anybody fighting alongside goblinkind. Because they cannibalise everything else.

Fleuri Jodeau

With this troll down, Fleuri took another moment to look across the battlefield while he pulled his sword free. He could not spot the captain nor Tyaethe, but he did see several more trolls in the distance. Unable to keep up with Klaus on foot, he opted to head for that direction as he hefted his blood-stained sword over his shoulder.

He did not get far, unfortunately; a pair of orcs spotted and charged him, letting out inhuman warcries. When the closer one drew near, Fleuri skewered it on the end of his zweihander with all of his strength before the greenskin could get close enough to strike the knight with its own weapon. The momentum with which the orc charged forced Fleuri back several paces, but he regained control and tossed the his wounded foe to the side, freeing it from his blade just as the second orc closed in.

He swung his sword in an arc at the second one as it came within range, but the orc stopped just shy of the tip, narrowly evading injury, then charged forward before the knight could bring his massive sword back in the greenskin's direction. Fortunately, Fleuri was all too familiar with this window of vulnerability when swinging his zweihander, and had devised techniques to adapt to and deal with foes who sought to exploit it. In addition, his fixation on the recent sparring match with Tyaethe had brought these now rarely used techniques to the forefront of his mind. He sprung backwards with surprising agility, just narrowly avoiding his foe's crude cleaver-like weapon, and swiftly drew his dagger from its scabbard with his left hand. When the orc pressed its attack and swung again at the knight, Fleuri parried its blow, giving him the opportunity needed to decapitate his foe with his zweihander.

One mistake is all it takes, he mused as he slew his foe. One mistake, pressing a perceived opportunity a bit too far in the heat of the moment, was all it took for even a clever warrior to fail. It was something the knight knew all too well.

Just as he delivered the fatal counter-blow, something further into the battlefield lit up like lightning, and in the corner of his eye, he saw the strange beam flying at an unseen target. He had only enough time to notice the beam change direction and disintegrate a troll. What was that? he wondered. Was it one of ours? No, the mages were instructed to stay behind. Besides, he had never seen any of his fellow knights cast such a spell before- this had to be a third party. It had struck one of the trolls, but only after changing direction- if they had meant to hit one of those massive beasts, there would've been no need to pull off a trick shot. Then what was it's intended target? "Oh no," Fleuri muttered, as he came to a realization. If it was aimed at one of the Iron Roses, he reasoned, it must have been meant for either Fanilly or Tyaethe.

If this hypothesis was correct, than he could find at least one them further ahead where the beam had been. Once again, however, he found his way blocked by another orc raider. At this rate, I'm not going anywhere quickly, Fleuri lamented as he tightened his grip on his weapon.

Fanilly's sword flashed, and yet another orc fell dead, her blade piercing the front of its head and protruding through the back. She drew her blade back and it toppled to the ground in a splatter of dark red blood. The remainder of the orcs had fled, or died on the battlefield. She noticed some of the fleeing beasts hit the ground as arrows pierced their dark armor and flesh. Undeniably, victory had gone to the Iron Roses.

Any orcs that remained on the battlefield were soon struck down, and a troll fell with a thud, dead. Soon the others followed, leaving a battlefield littered with dead orcs. There had not been a single casualty on part of the knights, but she could see there were some injured... and that was not to say the fight had no claimed any lives on their side, either. Towards the wall she could see a few bodies of the dead soldiers, the bodies of men and women who had been stationed to defend the town with their lives. The orcs had claimed the lives of several of the defenders prior to the arrival... the blonde girl gripped her sword more tightly. All she could hope for is that their intervention had prevented those sacrifices from being in vain.

"... Iron Roses," she declared, raising her blade skyward, "We have taken victory! But do not let your guard down. There was a magical attack from the forest, until we're certain there won't be another we must remain vigilant!"

Indeed, they had defeated the orc forces. And yet... something still felt strange to Fanilly. Regardless of how it felt to her, however, the gate in front of Brennan, tall and made of dark wood and steel, slowly creaked open as the relieved defenders made there way out. They wanted to congratulate the Iron Roses, it seemed.

---

"A-ah...?"

Lyrie trembled. On... on her feet... shuddering and taking a deep breath, she tried to remember what she was. If she panicked her healing wouldn't be as good, if she panicked then she definitely wouldn't be able to help anyone at all. She didn't respond to Tiral, fearing that it would make him yell more, but instead she stood up and clutched her staff in both hands. It was hard but... she had to keep it together. She had to focus. She didn't feel any particular confidence boost, but at the same time Lyrie didn't want to let anyone down... so she had to try and focus.

And it was only a moment later that she got a chance to put her skills into practice, as the blood-soaked Tyaethe deposited Avlin before her. The knight seemed more embarrassed then in pain.

"She's got the right of it," he said, with an awkward laugh, "I can't stand on it. Ah, and against a rabble of orcs, too. How does a knight end up like this?"

Lyrie didn't respond for a moment. His leg. It was his leg. Which was currently armored. Taking a deep breath, she knelt down beside the injured knight.

"P-please, lay down," she began. Sir Avlin followed her request moments after. "N-now... I... maybe need help removing the armor from his leg, er..."

---

When the sword pierced the heart symbol on the tree, it suddenly blazed a brilliant shade of purple. The air was abruptly filled with an overwhelming, overbearing feeling of power, and the symbol itself ignited and erupted outwards.

There was a rush of noise and heat, but an instant later it was gone.

In front of the knights stood the third of their number, the shield-bearing Angeline. The silver-haired knight panted, her shield smoking. Any investigating would reveal that the outer side of it was glowing white hot. At some point before the explosion, she had managed to force herself between the blast and the others.

It was likely that the only reason they were not dead now, however, was the capabilities of Indrau's sword managing to dampen the strength of the trap. The tree had been blown completely in half.

@PKMNB0Y@Raineh Daze@Crusader Lord@TheFake@Noodles@Crimson Paladin

Indrau grunted and lowered the point of the blade to the ground. His sword was unmarked, having devoured any energy emitted towards it or its weilder. Through the grip Indrau sensed a feeling of sated hunger. "Fortunate that I never thought to just touch the cussed thing."

He hefted Silence and slid it into his sheath. Looking out over the battlefield he brushed bits of shttered tree from his cloak. "And it seems that we've carried the day."




With the commanders declaration of victory Salz fell to one knee. The sharp aches and pains with every breathe told her of the great many bruises to be seen once she took off her armour. She rested for a moment to recover her strength and then used the club to push herself back to her feet.

"By rushing in when there's trolls around like you can take on an army," was the paladin's blunt summary, undoing the fastenings for the wounded knights armour with remarkable deftness given that she was still caked in blood. It was sticky enough already and starting to dry... maybe she should go find Tiral; the mage might know a spell to create some water. If she could learn it enough to copy or at least enough to fail explosively, she could just blast it all right off. Much easier than having somebody try to come along and scrape it off later.

---

With the threat nullified, the duellist slowly picked her way across the battlefield towards Fanilly. Watching from the outskirts, it was easier to work out that something had been very off about the whole situation--magic that orcs had no business throwing around was only the start of it. From beginning to end, the fight was wrong in the first place... not so much the outcome or their opposition's lack of tactics, nor the number of trolls. No, for orc bands this was all a fairly standard approach. What became clear when you had time to think about it was much more insidious than that--

"Captain, if I might speak? Although we have not had time to ascertain the details in full due to the suddenness of this battle, it seems beyond the pale for such a large band to gather with trolls and yet attract no attention. Travellers and the like are all known to report such things before they make their way to major settlements, and as such a defence can be mounted in time. Orcs simply cannot reach so close to the capital so quietly without assistance."

Klaus crouched against the horse the instant the corner of her eye caught sight of a bright purple explosion. "Tsk..." She hissed, nothing like an elaborate magical trap has ever crossed her mind, especially from an orc army.

"Thanks," Squinting her eyes open, Klaus muttered to the Knight of the shield. She felt that she had severely underestimated her enemy. The faraway sight of the defenders' triumph have added to her frustration on the fact that she had let her guard down, and the rogue mage being still at loose. Recent victories felt more incomplete than ever.

"So many years in the borderlands, and I've never seen goblins working together with intelligent races. Victories like these make food taste bad, Sir." Klaus snarled whilst trying to be formal at Indrau. She gathered her reins, making a detour along the treeline before returning to Brennan. Just in case...

With the last of the opposing force finally falling to the ground dead, Tiral let out a sigh of relief as he and the other knights finally stopped their onslaught. The fight itself wasn't as clean as he would have liked, of course, but if there was anything he had learned as the de facto strategist of the team, it was that things never went according to plan. Brushing off some of the dust on his armor, the mage glanced over at the healer he had scolded earlier, who had decided that she would tend to the wounded on the frontlines. With the battle over (or so it seemed), that was likely for the better.

The knight that the young girl was tending to had better days behind him, but at the very least the wound at hand didn't seem anything too impossible to fix. The drying blood, in his experiences, though, was never a good thing. Without a second though, Tiral pointed at the ground next to the girl with his dagger and created a small bowl of ice before filling it with warm water. Of course, tending to more wounds elsewhere was the healer's job, not his; there were more problematic matters at hand.

As soon as he had finished filling the bowl, though, the momentary glimpse of another explosion coming from where the initial blast of magic that he had deflected had originated from caused Tiral to grip the reins of his horse tightly. Things weren't quite as over as they seemed, at the very least.

"I'll go check the issue out. The rest of you, regroup with the Captain and survey the area for anything else that might be an issue," he stated, quickly riding off to go check the area out himself.

Deliberately choosing to avoid cutting through the battlefield filled with dead orcs, Tiral took a tad longer than he would have liked to reach the area in question. Seeing that Indrau was only now picking up his weapon off the ground, the mage-knight quickly came to the assumption that it had weakened the strength of the magic somewhat—more of an issue, all things considered.

"Sir Indrau! I moved as soon as I saw the explosion over on the wayside. What was the cause?" he asked, dismounting from his horse before walking over to the decimated remains of a tree and staring at them. "Anything left of whatever caused this?"

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri breathed a sigh of relief as he looked over the aftermath of the battle. The trolls had been felled, the surviving orcs had routed, and he didn't see any of the Iron Roses among the dead. His armor was splattered with blood from head to toe, but the important thing is that none of it was his blood. It was another successful mission in the order's long and glorious history, and further proof of the worthiness of its young captain. Tragically, it seemed that a number of the town guards had been killed, but fortunately the fiends had not made it into the city, he assessed as he looked up at the battered walls that had protected the city.

Now that the battle was over, the question in his mind was why and how this happened. The raiding party somehow slipped deep into Thaln undetected, yet they had foolishly opted to beat their heads against a fortified town not far from where the Iron Roses are headquartered. They certainly weren't greater fighters than a typical orc. Fleuri wasn't an expert on this sort of matter, but the seeming inconsistency in the orcs' competence suggested to him that they had help, he thought to himself as he listened to the captain address the knights.

So this magical attacker is indeed an enemy. Whoever they are, they probably had something to do with these orcs making it this far into Thaln. Trick these dumb brutes into making trouble, wait for us to respond, and then ambush us. But who? There were probably many evildoers who held a grudge against the Iron Roses. Perhaps someone knowledgeable in magical fields could narrow it down; surely there couldn't be a great many people capable of such a deadly spell, he guessed. Regardless, what was important was that the orcs were stopped, the people were safe, and it this was a trap, it had failed.

When the gates opened and the locals emerged to congratulate their saviors, Fleuri opted to step away from the crowd. As much as he craved attention, it was best if he didn't partake in it, not anymore. Not since he gave himself to Reon and to the Iron Roses. He needed to find his horse anyway- hopefully it hadn't been stolen or killed, because he didn't want to have to explain that he lost two horses in a row.