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With Aria quickly briefing the nameless knights that had accompanied their flanking force, Fanilly had given the signal to attack. Just in time, too; Aria had just managed to finish giving her troops the basic plan. Act defensive and form a shield wall that would slowly choke out the enemies. Without a doubt, the other groups would have raised hell with their relentless aggression. Such a move would force enemies back towards the "safest" path. They would only end up with Aria. With a platoon of spearmen and swordsmen who bore shields slowly advancing, they were to crush the enemy.

Of course, Aria couldn't let all of the glory go to those fools on the other sides. With the greatsword knight clearing a barricade of wooden spikes (really, if they were to be felled by a simple sword, they would have to be constructed horribly), she charged into the fray. Not dead ahead, of course. That would only scare any fleeing bandit into biting back. No, rats should never be cornered. They should always have a way out. The trick, of course, was making that way out a guillotine.

Aria would act not as the guillotine, but as a funnel to let those cowards enter her men. Of course, she remained close enough to stop any attempts of the Bandit King fleeing. With her spear at the ready and her shield on her back, she began to strike at the woefully unprepared bandits. Instantly, she was outnumbered. The fearful bandits fought back. Aria was much too experienced to be felled by petty strikes. Carefully moving in order to never be surrounded, she lead the bandits to have to push slightly too forward to attack well. Each sword they swung was dodged by a hair's breadth. Aria's movements weren't normal; they weren't that of a soldier. No, they were more akin to someone dancing on the battlefield. If any bandit had made a mistake, they would be instantly rebuked by a thrust of her spear. No attempt to block could be made; even the strongest steel that her foes could have possessed were unable to stop a simple thrust.

She simply ended those who were nearby. There was no brutish strength in her actions; every single ounce of her movement were precise and performed to the nines.

Well, it was certainly a meatgrinder. Staying at the back of the troop of knights, Elodie watched as bandits, given false hope when faced against a singular Iron Rose Knight, took the bait, rushed at Aria, and were summarily cut down by the others. Who would want to be a bandit in a scenario like this? No one, that's who. Though they were all fated to be executed for their crimes, some still sought the gentle release of the noose over the savagery of steel, a couple of the bandits throwing down their arms and pleading mercy. Others scrambled over their own barricades, seeking escape but not realizing that they'd never outrun a zealot on a horse. Tragic, honestly. Elodie'd pray for them, but moronic lawbreakers were rarely worth the breath. May the Gods smile upon them in the next life, and grant them the ability to stick to a less self-destructive path.

As it stood though, she had no reason for getting involved. No priority targets, nor any intrusive obstacles to deal with. Her weapon could swap over to a halberd, but it wasn't as if she'd be contributing anything significant to this sausage fest of stabby and slashy folk.

So Elodie stayed in the back and watched them all go at it. Nice and relaxing. She stepped out of the way of someone's dismembered arm, observed the flow of combat, and waited for something extraordinary to happen.

@OwO@Crimson Paladin

Fanilly felt her steel clash against another's, as the edge of her dagger locked up the blade of a bandit's sword from the result of a wild swing. She forced him back and swung her longsword up in response, slicing upwards through his body and briefly lodging her blade in his chest. He fell back with a gurgle. To take another's life had long been the greatest obstacle in her mind for her commandment of the Iron Roses. However...

She had surpassed such worries prior to truly taking her spot as captain, for better or worse. No-one deserved to suffer, but murderers and thieves with no remorse would be paid in death. That, at least, was no longer among the many concerns the young girl faced in the course of holding her position. The battle already seemed to be won. And yet... something seemed wrong. These were bandits who had slain soldiers of Thaln, those who had trained all their lives in combat. But these common criminals seemed utterly unprepared for such a battle. Just as the ambush party...

"Do NOT let your guard down!" she called to her knights. She did not what them believing they could simply focus on nothing more then slaying the bandits. There could have been some kind of trick, a second group, something... even as his throne burned, the Bandit King did not appear.

She hesitated. A soldier, one of the men who had accompanied them in the charge along, stood nearby, having just struck another of the bandits' number dead. However, the bandits seemed largely preoccupied with other areas. Indeed, it seemed as if Fanilly's initial shielded charge had pushed them directly into the path of the other three groups. At this rate, the entire camp would be cleared of bandits swiftly and without loss. "... Something seems wro-"

As she scanned the battlefield for a point of entry, she spotted a man in leather armor, emerging from the forest. He swung up... a crossbow? He raised his weapon, took aim, and fired, a bolt whizzing through the air to strike... Fanilly didn't see exactly who. She had only seen enough to know it was one of the other girls. She was already in mid-stride. Perhaps he had fired once already, but she could stop him from shooting again! But he was wielding a much heavier set of equipment. Fanilly's armor was made from an alloy purchased from the northern dwarves long ago, a suit passed down through the Iron Roses, known for being almost unnaturally light.

And so, in that moment, Fanilly acted without thought. She had to protect her knights. She had to keep them safe. Lowering her shoulder, she slammed it into the man's side. He let out a surprised wheeze and stumbled, and she swung her sword up to knock the crossbow away in the same breath. The bandit drew a shortsword and lashed out, catching himself as he did. Fanilly raised her sword to deflect the blow, but he swiftly followed with another. The blonde locked his blade in her parrying dagger and struck out, impaling the man through his chest. He let out a wheeze, and as she drew back he fell with a thud.

"Haah... haah..." Fanilly looked back. She'd covered the distance between herself and the others, and the crossbow man, quite quickly. Only now did she realize just how far away he had been.

Only now did she realize that everything had become warmer. Hearing a violent creaking sound, Fanilly looked up in time to see an enormous tree in flames. It tilted, and fell towards the battlefield.

"Look out!" Fanilly cried. Taking a step forward she made a bid to run back to the battle, but everything happened quite a bit too quickly for her to make it. The burning tree crashed down ahead of her, cutting her off from her knights.

Inwardly she cursed herself. How had she been so foolish as to charge for that crossbowman, away from the battle?! It had been a kneejerk reaction. Her faith in herself plummeted. But she didn't have time for that. She had to return to battle, to-

There was a clattering sound beside her.

Fanilly turned. It was the body of one... one of her soldiers. Half of it. Her eyes widened as they traveled over the bloodied upper half of a man, cleaved apart cleanly.

"At last, the Iron Roses," spoke a deep voice. Fanilly looked up.

He was a huge man, taller then anyone Fanilly had ever seen before. He worse simple pants and was barechested, his face remarkably cleanshaven. He looked to be in his thirties, perhaps, with dark hair and a truly enormous sword resting on one shoulder, stained in blood.

"It really is true," he said, with an amused smile, "They did get a little girl for their captain. Heh."

He swung the blade off his shoulder.

Fanilly raised her sword and parrying dagger. But the sheer size of that sword... deflecting it seemed unlikely! Was this...?!

"Allow me to properly introduce myself," the man said, smile widening into a grin, "I'm no simple bandit king, even if that human garbage saw me that way."

He cocked his head to one side.

"Knight's Doom Jeremiah is my name," he said, "The Three Hundred Man-slayer!"

He charged.

@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@Asuras@jdh97@Psyker Landshark@Click This@OwO@Animal@TheFake@ERode@Crimson Paladin@ghastlyinc@PaulHaynek

Her searching for Jeremiah was fruitful--in that she was actually looking the right way when the tree fell, dividing them from their captain. Though the log somewhat obscured the view, it didn't hide the soldier's brutal death, which confirmed everything that the paladin needed to know, calling out over the din of the battlefield and the screams of bandits with surprising clarity: "Nobody try blocking him!"

Exactly like the royal soldiers they had seen earlier--plate cleaved like it was just foil; armour, weapon, and bone giving way with no difficulty. Her sword might be able to take it, but the number of blessed blades amongst the Iron Roses was quite slim. It wasn't a firm way to judge Jeremiah's ability, but perhaps he was one of the more exclusive adventurers gone rotten, already a match or more for most of their knights without the advantage of negating their main usual advantage.

The bandits between Tyaethe and the log were the next people to fall in pieces. If Fanilly could just deal with him until others got there...

"Three hundred...? Three hundred? W-We killed the Vos Korvungand to a man!"

... if he didn't make Tyaethe collapse with laughter first.

Fleuri Jodeau

Aria and the shielded knights surged past Fleuri through the breach, into the fray. I've done my part, I suppose, he thought as he watched his colleagues charge. No. An Iron Rose's work is never done, he rebuked himself. He was unsure what he could do, and how to make himself useful. He needed to see where he was needed, and he couldn't do that from where he was standing.

I need a better view of the battle, he contemplated as he looked around. His eyes came to a stop on a tree at the edge of the camp, possessing branches low enough to climb onto without difficulty and large enough to support the weight of an armored knight. From up there he'd have a relatively unobstructed view of the camp.

Somewhat reluctantly, he drove his greatsword into the ground, as it would impede climbing (and in his haste to join the battle he had neglected to take a sheath or sling for it), then drew his dagger and thrust into the tree trunk. Using the dagger as a step, he made his way up to a large branch. The limb shuddered as he climbed onto it, but to his relief it did not give. He remained uneasy at having disarmed himself to get up there, but was at the same time relieved to be able to see what was going on.

The bandits were surrounded on all sides. The initial attack, spearheaded by the captain herself, had driven the bandits back, right into the path of the three other groups. He looked closely for any sign of this so-called "bandit king" but none of the surrounded brigands looked like or fought like a bandit king. None of them looked or fought like real warriors, just raiders and ruffians. Certainly nobody capable of cutting through those Thaln soldiers. He continued looking, searching for any exposed flanks of either friend or foe, and for any spots where the bandits threatened to break out of the encirclement and escape.

He spotted one straggler, a crossbowman who had somehow avoided the encirclement. There was no need to go after him, however- the Captain herself rushed up to the shooter and handily dispatched him. Perhaps I should just join Tyaethe's group. No real use for me in Aria's shield wall...

He was about to climb down when he saw a burning tree fall near the Captain's location. He couldn't discern whether or not the tree struck her, but what was clear was that she had been cut off from her group. Whether it was a trap or not, the captain likely needed help. Without thinking twice, he jumped down from the tree and reclaimed his armaments from their impromptu sheaths, then rushed in the direction of the burning tree without delay.

If his hunch from earlier was correct- that the enemy leader would single out Fanilly, as a perceived weak link in in the Iron Roses and as a symbol of the kingdom he so brazenly opposed- it was quite possible that he was heading straight for the Bandit King.

Reon, whatever I face, I ask for your blessing that my sword strike true, and I ask for your protection that will I not fall.

@Psyker Landshark@jdh97@Crimson Paladin@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR
Ebb and flow.

Action and reaction.

Impacts against the blade resonating with the pumping in his skull.

The rhythm through which he experienced this loud, bloody, and unforgiving world. Many likened it to a dance when they romanticised it, the constant give and take of force and space.

Gerard Segremors could not bring himself to agree. There was nothing so whimsical here— warfare could only be warfare. It was simply too discordant to be anything else. Even dueling had enough order, enough regulation, enough elimination of meddling outside forces to still step one foot into the realm of dance in his mind, but not warfare.

He surged forward, his longsword biting deep into the clavicle of an axeman. As the tip of the rightward spear, he had met the forefront of the slapdash defenses their enemies had managed to mount, and was by now deep in the thick of the camp after the mere moment it took for the full weight of his detachment to crash through behind his lead. It was as if the battle before had been a sample of that of now... There were no more elite forces here than out on the roads.

The routing of the king's men could not have been done by these bandits.

He ripped the blade free, kicking him as he fell and fully disregarding the spurt of blood that fell upon his boot. Such was expected, but less so was one of your fellows suddenly falling beneath your feet— the final lesson learned by a charging spearman before the knight he had set to impale cracked his skull with their warhammer.

It had to be this King Jeremiah.

The knight barked their thanks, receiving a simple grunt of affirmation as their impromptu "commander" dashed forward, scooping up the dropped polearm. Gripping the eight-foot oaken shaft by its end, he stepped in deep and thrust forward, breaking through the boiled leather over another's ribcage as he was attempting to turn towards the approaching noise. With his dying breath through the punctured lung, the malcontent managed to bring his crossbow to bear upon the knight's furrowed brow—

But Segremors's instincts and experience proved too savvy. As the bolt was fired with a thankfully labored motion, he was already ducking out to the side, and the projectile struck home into the shoulder of another bandit who had the thought of trying to split Gerard's skull with a club from behind, while he had been busying himself with a little spearplay.

"AGH! KEITH, YOU FU—"

He was not allowed the time to finish his reprimand, as the vengeful Reonite came out of the roll in a turning, two-handed cleave that drew a murderous line right through his neck, very nearly decapitating the man outright. In severing two major arteries, this hew had a naturally spectacular effect.

The crack of a burning, falling tree drew his attention towards the front. A shout, high and stern, cutting through the din of his fellows righteous slaughter. In the personal lull of combat, all enemies in the immediate area accounted for, he found himself returning to his own mind.

"Nobody try blocking him!"

Paladin Tyaethe. If she was spitting out a warning, that could only mean they had encountered something worthy of it even in her eyes, more battle experience behind them than he had in simply living.

These bandits were getting torn open all the same. For the one exception to have shown himself, in cutting down that massive, burning log—

From the rear, he saw Sir Jodeau racing past him, directly towards that now cordoned off section of the camp. All the confirmation he needed.

Jeremiah.

He wiped the warm and wet crimson from his eyes with a sleeve.

Well, if the man's blade couldn't be blocked, then he simply needed to engineer an offense that negated the need.

Planting a boot in the corpse of the crossbow-wielder, he ripped the spear free from the man's midsection. Eight feet or so, all told... Almost certainly longer than whatever the hell Jeremiah was carrying. Harassing with this, baiting out wide swings, then closing the gap in their wake...

It could work. It could definitely work, especially if he had the help of such experienced fighters as Paladin Tyaethe and Fleuri Jodeau at his si—

"Y-you..."

He looked up, a small squeak wrought with terror penetrating his rudimentary plan and bringing him back to the present in full. This being a battlefield, he couched it into his armpit on reflex at the sound— before he truly saw where it had come from.

Within one of the tents, tucked away as deeply into the shadows as her quavering form could muster itself to be, was a girl. A young girl, dressed in plain, disheveled clothes of brown and tan cotton— likely barely older than their captain. Her hair was a mess of brown curls, and her eyes wide and white, ragged as her breathing. One of the prisoners their interrogations had revealed, there was no doubt in his mind. A peasant. An innocent.

Someone stolen from her home. From her family. From her life.

The pulse rose again within him.

"You're one of the Iron Rose Knights, right? Th-The bandits were shouting that when the fighting started..."

A plea.

"I am."

An answer.

She flinched as he knelt after approaching with those words. They had unfortunately come out rougher than he had meant, still wrestling with the righteous fury within his heart that screamed at him to head for the Bandit King. He desperately wanted to, there wasn't any sense denying that fact...

But he could not simply leave this defenseless girl to her fate.

"You hurt?"

"No, I tucked me'self away when the screamin' started..."

"Okay," he said, glancing down to the weapon his left hand and then back to her. "Do you know where the other prisoners are?"

She shook her head. So he couldn't sweep for the rest quite yet, nor could he send her to gather them up anywhere safe. There was no telling if there were more bandits lurking the forest, and the battle was still being fought fiercely elsewhere within the camp. He didn't want this kid catching a bolt or arrow, stray or otherwise. Dammit, not many options were left after all that. She had survived this long here...

"Alright, then I need you to stay put and out of sight. We'll get you out of here once this is over."

He amended every plan he had tried to make in the past two minutes.

"Ever use a spear before?"

"N-No, Sir."

"It's easy." he stated, inverting his grip and holding it out to the opening. "Put the sharp part through whomever's trying to hurt you."

Slowly, over the course of an agonized and tentative minute, a pale, thin hand emerged from the shade and wrapped around the haft, followed by another, and he let go. It wobbled and shook a little in her grip, but she nevertheless took a hold of the weapon. Her newfound protection.

"Atta girl."

Gerard rose, favoring her with a hopefully reassuring, bloodsoaked smile before turning back towards the center of the camp.

"Now, I have to go help my friends. Stay silent, stay safe, and stay steady, understand?"

He gripped his longsword with both hands, returning to familiar form. His previous plan to abuse a likely reach advantage on Jeremiah now firmly out of the window—

"May Reon's light protect thee."

—He nevertheless raced forward without a second thought nor a second of doubt, propelled by boiling blood and following in the wake of Sir Jodeau towards the center.

Towards the lynchpin of all this.

Towards the Bandit King.

The battle had been fierce. One-sided, but fierce.

The Iron Rose Knights cut, sliced and stabbed. The bandits attempted to put up somewhat of a fight but not only were they caught by surprise, but they were hopelessly outmatched as well. The clash of blades sang in the air and the ripping and tearing of flesh joined it. Guarding the vanguard's flank, Jarde lost himself in the fighting. His entire focus was in taking down bandits and surviving.

The bandits... were not fighters. At least not good fighters. Jarde easily moved, dodged and avoided their almost-clumsy swings and thrusts. His counterattacks were quick, too fast for any of the bandits to react to. Although, the young knight found himself going for non-lethal takedowns instead of the clean kills his fellow knights exhibited. He had kicked bandits into tents, his sickles struck limbs and his knees met faces. Jarde wondered if his sparing would change these bandits' ultimate fates but he supposed that was outside of his concern.

Jarde soon ran out of bandits to fight. The respite allowed his thoughts to return to the battle plan. Surveying his surroundings, he realized he was still at the vanguard flank protecting it but someone was missing.

"Captain?"

He called out. Fanilly was nowhere to be seen. Jarde's eyes darted to and fro the battle, trying to spot the Captain. A fallen, burning tree caught his attention and beyond its inferno, he saw who he was looking for... and someone he was definitely not looking for. Fanilly had separated from the battle and found herself facing a large, imposing man wielding a blade of enormous size. Jarde's feet were already moving, covering much distance thanks to him being light and agile.

As the Bandit King charged Fanilly, Jarde made one great leap over the burning wood. The tall flames singeing his legs a bit. The young knight delivered a bold, flying kick at Jeremiah but the Bandit King saw it coming and blocked with his huge blade. Jarde's foot landed on the blade's broad side and he quickly hopped off before Jeremiah could do anything, landing just beside Captain Fanilly.

"You okay, Captain?"

He threw a short question at Fanilly, his gaze still focused on the Bandit King. With a blade as large as that, blocking was out of the question. Jarde will have to utilize his speed to avoid the swings. Like his fights earlier, but the stakes were higher this time. While he could take a painful hit from a bandit's weapon and survive, there was no surviving this blade should an attack be successful.

When the attack was sounded Indrau made little better than a fast walking pace. He wasn't a front line fighter by any means but neither were their opponents. Against a professional army he would have sat out the fight. Fighting simple bandits let him treat each opponent as a duel, defeating them before another could come to complicate things.

Most of them lasted a just a couple of moves before he landed a crippling or lethal blow. Some exemplars among them lasted half a dozen before being cut down. He paced himself to keep abreast of the front line and stop himself from getting cut off.

He watched with horror as the tree came down, powerless to do anything. He redoubled his efforts in fighting the bandits, taking more risks and using his bracers to parry as well as his blade.

And there it was, that extraordinary incident.

Even from the rear of the camp, the burning tree was easy enough to spot, its crash thunderous. Immediately, Elodie was on the move, her Blasting Rod in hand as she rushed past the melee of knights and bandits. With so much steel and death around, few paid attention to the brunette that slipped into the camp itself. Keeping quiet and subdued, the artificer kept careful watch over her surroundings as she got closer and closer to the keystone to the bandit's success. That was all that mattered, after all; if what she had witnessed at the rear was any indication, the bandits were wholly worthless against the regular armor without this.

So even if a couple of them escaped, that was within the realm of expertise of regular towns' guards. Only the Bandit King's head had to be taken to consider this a victory.

The acrid stench of smoke grew stronger as she approached. The blazing tree had set surrounding tents ablaze as well, creating a fiery, breath-stealing arena. Few would last long here, but this fight wouldn't last long. Jeremiah had a thick neck, but prodigious size did not dissuade the sharpened blade. Readjusting the goggles over her eyes, Elodie grimaced at the stink, before leveling her weapon unto the bare-chested man.

But Elodie did not fire. Not yet.

Fanilly was the Knight-Captain, after all. She deserved a chance to earn glory before all else.

Maritza Verenna

Their assault was proving to be a quick as it was lethal. Campfires scattered in the fighting had lit a couple of tents alight, adding smoke to the sensory overload of the of the battlefield. Cracking the skull of a bandit with a spin of her quarterstaff, Mari slides back, taking a moment to observe the fight. They had pushed well into the camp, the rose knights now fully inside what had passed for it's walls.

The resounding crash of the flaming tree hitting the ground was impossible to miss. Rearing up on the end of her tail for a better view, Mari catches sight of the bandit king on the far side of the tree and Cpt. Fanilly stuck over there with him. "Nobody try blocking him!" She hears Tyaethe shout as the vampire goes bolting towards the scene along with several other knights, leaving a number of holes in their battle line. Instead of charging in, Mari falls back towards Dame Aria's squad, intent on serving as a skirmisher on the outer wing of their shield wall.

Was this all? Alongside his fellow knights, Renar tore through the bandits that sallied forth to face them, his poleaxe smashing their heads and ripping their guts open. Untrained, barely armed, not organized at all. There was no way these bandits could have defeated the king's regulars. Was their success only due to the might of this Bandit King? They had numbers to overwhelm innocent villagers, surely. But a unit of ordinary soldiers would have dealt with this rabble with little difficulty.

Renar brought his poleaxe down, the axe head burying itself deep into a bandit's skull. He ripped the axe out, whirling around and plunging the poleaxe's spike into another charging foe.

And then he saw him. Jeremiah. Now Renar could understand. No armor, but that sword...Renar grimaced behind his helmet's visor. Even he'd have difficulty wielding a monstrosity like that, and Jeremiah was waving it around like a toy. Damn. Something of that size and mass, he'd have no chance of blocking. Now he saw how all of the soldiers' armor was cleaved through.

Renar began to turn towards Sir Gerard. He'd been fighting beside the man for most of this battle. But he wasn't there. The man was busy tending to one of the prisoners. Damn. Renar hefted his poleaxe up, glancing around for any stray bandits who could take advantage of Gerard's situation. The man was a noble one, to be certain. But he wasn't paying attention. Busy reassuring the girl. Well. Fortunate for Sir Gerard that Renar wasn't exactly inclined to let him get killed. Even more fortunate that there weren't any stray bandits to assault the distracted knight and prisoner.

"Damn it, woman, just take the spear..." Renar grumbled under his breath as the girl took eons to simply take a weapon for herself. After what seemed like forever, she finally armed himself, freeing Sir Gerard of his distraction and Renar of his charge. With a brief nod at the man as he turned back towards the battle, Renar joined Gerard in his charge.

@HereComesTheSnow

The enormous sword came down. Fanilly lept back, her heart hammering in her chest, and watched as the hard ground was torn where she just stood. But without missing a beat, Jeremiah brought his sword back up and pushed forward, aiming to skewer her before she could recover. The blonde girl managed to throw herself out of the way, but barely, rolling to the side and holding her sword at the ready. But the huge man was already facing her, ready to attack once more.

"Do you know why I'm here, little girl?!" he said, his voice a gleeful snarl as he spoke. In an instant he was already swinging his enormous sword. Fanilly, eyes wide with fear, attempted to sidestep, and in a last desperate bid raised her sword to defend herself. She felt the impact slam into her body even from a glancing blow and was sent reeling, pain reverberating up her arm as she did. She barely managed to catch herself. The flames were so hot from the burning tree, she could feel them from here. Perhaps if someone was moving fast enough they could get through it relatively unscathed, but...

For now she was on her own.

"... N-no, I don't," Fanilly, straightening and trying to quell the quavering in her voice, "But regardless, you are an enemy of Thaln's people and must be defeated!"

"Heh, what a fool," he commented, simply, "I have killed hundreds of knights, spilled the blood of men across the battlefield for years. I'm here to do the very same with your order!"

He was moving again. This time, Fanilly felt herself move before his sword came down. His swings were practiced, he wasn't attacking like a wild berserker! But at the same time, Fanilly herself was learning that if she kept moving she could still outpace him! Perhaps if she could get around him, perhaps...!

Suddenly the girl saw Jeremiah alter the course of his sword, swinging it outwards and towards her. She barely had time to get her sword between her body and his before it hit. The impact slammed into her, and she felt the breath leave her body and paint reverberate up her arm. Fanilly was lifted from the ground and sent careening through the air, her sword tumbling away and skittering across the ground. She rolled once and came to a stop on her stomach, panting as she tried to right herself.

This man was a monster! Even unarmored he fought with such confidence!

The girl's arms trembled as she tried to get up. She didn't think she was seriously injured, she had to calm down! She had to get her sword and-

Fingers wrapped around her helmet and pulled it off, tossing it aside. A hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her into the air, immediately digging in.

"My joy in life," growled Jeremiah, "What brings me happpiness, is death. So I joined this trash, to make them into a threat that you Iron Roses would notice. To draw you here. To kill you. And what better way to kill you then to begin by beheading your order?"

The man chuckled to himself as his grip tightened on Fanilly's through. Her heart was bounding, her eyes wide as she struggled to breath. No... she couldn't breath, her legs kicking as one hand clasped at his arm.

"But maybe... maybe I'll keep you, girl," the man continued, grinning, "Let the death of your order break your will, turn you into nothing more then a trophy! The trophy that marks the death of the Iron Roses!"

Fanilly gasped. She could feel herself slipping. She'd fall unconscious soon. Was he right? Would he kill the Iron Roses? Her own grip slackened as she felt her dagger begin to-

... Her dagger...

"Besides, it would be a waste to-"

Fire lit in Fanilly's eyes, she swung her arm up and then downwards. A Parrying Dagger was not made for attacking, and yet it served well against Jeremiah's bare arm. The tip bit into his flesh and plunged into him, drawing blood. He let out a cry of pain and shock, his grip loosening!

Fanilly fell to the ground, clutching her throat with her free hand and coughing. Her neck hurt, his grip had been squeezing the air from her body... but she was alive! Managing to steady herself before the massive man could recover, she sprinted for her sword, grasping it in her right hand and raising it.

"All your words have done is tell me you're nothing more then a monster, Three Hundred Man-slayer!" she called, raising her sword, "And it is the Iron Roses' duty to slay monsters, even if they're men!"

His arm was streaming red. She'd managed to force her dagger in deep. Fanilly was still scared. But now... if she could keep on her toes...!

At just that moment, one of the other knights sprang over the burning tree! His kick was deflected, but he managed to land safely, close by. Fanilly was no longer isolated! It would only be a matter of time until the other knights were able to provide assistance, then...!

"I'm fine!" she asserted, though her throat was rather hoarse. Glaring, the hulking figure of Jeremiah raised his enormous blade once more...!

@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@Asuras@jdh97@Psyker Landshark@Click This@OwO@Animal@TheFake@ERode@Crimson Paladin@ghastlyinc@PaulHaynek

Tyaethe was only just behind Jarde, stepping through the flames with nothing more than a snort of derision and her armour melting away--as she had called out, there was no point in blocking; that went just as much for her attempts to have her armour take any blows. Better to be a smaller and more agile target in this case.

Jeremiah had proved that he was a talker, though, and that suited her fine--it would buy a few moments for the captain to get her throat back and anyone else who wanted to catch up. "Death of the Iron Roses? Some~one's~ cocky~"

"Even if you could get everyone else, captain and knight and alchemist and mage, you're just a brute with a sword! Dragons, giants, trolls, armies of the living and the dead... if none of them could stop me, you're not going to, Jerry~"

There was a moment to take in the red eyes--vibrantly glowing, visible even with the backlit flames--and then Tyaethe's patience for waiting ran out. Everyone else had better be in position, ready to kill him. An inhuman burst of speed to get behind Jeremiah, and then an arcing overhead slash... how well could he defend against the basics, she wondered, if he was being pressed from all sides? Surely he had more to go on than brute strength?

@VitaVitaAR@PaulHaynek

Fleuri Jodeau

As Fleuri drew closer to the burning tree, a warcry sounded nearby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bandit rushing at him with a mace held high, nearly blindsiding the knight with the speed and abruptness of the attack. He narrowly dodged the powerful blow, its great momentum preventing the bandit from adjusting the trajectory of the swing. Fleuri then leapt away from his attacker, putting some distance between the two. Behind the first bandit, another approached, brandishing a handaxe.

It looks like a few have broken out of the encirclement, Fleuri assessed. He wasn't the only knight that had rushed to aid Fanilly- he had seen Tyaethe rush to the Captain's aid, and Gerard was right behind Fleuri, with the same intention. While it wasn't a reasonable assumption that the survival of the captain and the death of the Bandit King were the most important objectives, the fact remained that they couldn't let anyone escape. None of these murderers could be allowed to evade justice, and they certainly couldn't be allowed to share their firsthand knowledge of Iron Rose tactics with other brigands. He couldn't be sure if these bandits were simply trying to escape by going through him, or if they held some loyalty for their bandit king, but either way, someone was needed to take care of them and make sure nobody else breaks out.

"Gerard, go on ahead," he told his companion as he released his left hand from his greatsword and drew his dagger. "I'll take care of these bandits and make sure none escape." He immediately rushed at the bandits, swinging both weapons in succession. The bandits easily evaded his aggressive swings, but the immediate goal of this assault was not to kill them, but to drive them back and keep them on the defensive so that they could not bar Gerard's way.

Reon, please let this be the right choice.

@HereComesTheSnow

@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

It appeared that part of the reason his delay in rejoining the fight was uninterrupted was the watchful eye of Sir Renar, who offered Gerard a curt nod of what seemed to be acknowledgement before falling in after his chase of Sir Jodeau, perhaps a half-step behind the younger swordsman. That was good— the more skilled and wily fighters they could throw at what could only be the Bandit King, the better.

A cry off to their flank interrupted that hopeful train of thought before it could get any further, however. A pair of bandits, coming in at almost perfect perpendicular with the tournament veteran, burst from the edge of the camp and forced him to sidestep. Not good. Gerard hard no doubt that any of the three of them could easily dispatch these men, but their sudden assault had forced them into an engagement— wasting precious time. They needed to aid the Captain— They needed to take Jeremiah out of the picture. This setback needed to be dealt with before it could bog the three of them down.

Bringing his Longsword to bear, Gerard raised it to the familiar Roof Guard, blade floating above his shoulder as he chewed up the remaining distance between himself and Sir Jodeau. It had been fortunate in a sense that they'd shown their hand so early, and that Gerard and Sir Renar had been trailing behind by paces— as they fell upon the first knight they saw, the second and third following him would fall upon them. He made to adjust his course and line up a murderous hew at the man with the mace—

"Gerard, go on ahead! I'll take care of these bandits and make sure none escape!"

—Only for the tournament veteran to fill that space himself, greatsword and dagger twin fangs that lashed out at the fleeing forms of the would-be ambushers. They did evade him, but they were also driven well off the following knightly pair's line of advance. The experienced knight's voice, his tone... It was collected and calm, but it brooked no dissent.

"Goddesses guide you."

He would be a fool to waste the opening his compatriot had given him.

Bathed in the orange light of the roaring flames, Gerard charged through, heedless of the waves of heat that blasted his face. Upon the other side, he heard the tail end of Paladin Tyaethe's signature needling words. She generally wasted little time beyond a few flicks of the acrid tongue in his experience— so they had come sailing in just on the mark for the battle to begin anew, then.

Perfect.

Without hesitation, Gerard planted a boot upon one of the dimmer branches and pushed off, carrying himself over the tree in a single motion— and for the first time, he saw the mountain of a man that stood before them.

Several things began to make sense. Firstly, that blade he carried— far too large to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, too rough— the man was swinging around a hunk of raw Iron. The weight alone would smash straight through any sword of standard make that tried to get between it and a knight once it got up to speed— and Gerard's longsword would be no exception. Next, he noted that there was no armoring upon Jeremiah's frame— on one hand, it meant he had no protection from any attacks that slipped past his guard, but on the other, it meant that he would worry relatively less about tiring out or overheating while swinging that hunk of metal around. If one could get past it.

Thirdly, he noticed the sadistic grin upon his shaven countenance. He was enjoying the carnage, then. Living up to his title, the king of these brigands and all their savagery. Toying with those he considered beneath him, wantonly chopping good men in half and pronouncing that he would be the death of their historic, noble order. Everything Sagramore had expected.

Monstrous strength, massive blade, and three hundred dead men to his name or not—

The pounding in his skull returned.

This will not stand.

Paladin Tyaethe had moved in at remarkable pace, darting into a blind angle behind Jeremiah's wide back— Captain Fanilly and Sir Jarde were currently at his front. Two cardinal directions taken care of.

Find third. Force attack from different angle and different level. Seize the initiative.

Even as his blood turned to boiling pitch, Gellert used that of him which was still reasonable to formulate a plan, similar to the one he had prior. Landing and bleeding off momentum into a roll on a diagonal, he managed to position himself roughly betwixt Tyaethe and Jeremiah's left side.

Perfect for shoving the point of a longsword through a man's kidney. He sprung out of the roll into exactly such a thrust, coming in at an almost exaggeratedly low angle with every ounce of force and velocity he could muster behind it. There was neither fear nor doubt in his movement— such things had long since burned away, in battles far earlier than this one.

Now, the Bandit King had to deal with an attack from The Roof by the vampire woman's blade, something massive in its own right— with whatever frontal counterattack made by Fanilly and Jarde in this instance— and with his own thrust, low, long, and direct. Even if Jeremiah killed him here, doing so would leave him open to attacks from at least one the former two angles through the simple variation in position and height. The same went for the others.

Someone would bring him down today.

Jarde was at the ready. Ready to react to whatever the Bandit King was going to do. But Jeremy did not do anything, or rather could not.

Paladin Tyaethe, who was just behind Jarde, spirited behind the Bandit King with her armor gone. Her sword was arced for an overhead slash. Jarde wondered how the Paladin got out of her armor so quickly. Magic? Definitely magic. But now was not the time to ponder Tyaethe's abilities. They had a large Bandit King to take down.

Next was Sir Gerard. He had also joined in moments later and, with his longsword, rolled into position on the Bandit King's left side and ready to run through the leader of the brigands. The Bandit King was now outnumbered and outmatched. Just with Gerard and Tyaethe, Jeremiah's chances of survival, much less victory, were incredibly slim.

But that did not mean Jarde could sit back and relax. Jeremiah's defeat may be certain but he could still inflict a serious injury on a knight, and Jarde preferred if no one got hurt in this little bandit control.

The young knight surged forward, ahead of Fanilly. Tyaethe's attack already covered the top and Gerard the side, Jarde then thought it best to strike at the Bandit King's legs. His sharp sickles aimed at the limbs, intending to cut and rend flesh.

Now it was the Three Hundred Man-Slayer who was on the defensive.

Altering the course of his swing, he spun in place, sparks flying as metal struck metal. He staggered, gritting his teeth. Fanilly noticed it didn't seem as if the arm she had stabbed was working properly... it could no longer form a fist. Had she severed something inside? And yet, he was still gripping his enormous blade one-handed, the blood from the man he had killed glistening on its steel.

"Fine. I'll take all of you on!" he snarled, taking another step back as he did. His arcing slash had been designed to force back his attackers as smoothly as possible, and give him as much breathing room as he could get. Fanilly took a step forward, her breathing still somewhat ragged as she raised her blade. She had to do everything she could to ensure the Bandit King-No, that Knight's Doom Jeremiah was defeated here and now!

Suddenly, he drove his blade downwards and dragged it through the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris! It was from here that he raised his blade once more, preparing to strike a heavy blow...!

As for the rest of the battle, the bandits seemed somewhat emboldened by the appearance of their leader, having failed to realize her cared absolutely nothing for them. They were beginning to rally, somewhat... but others were still attempting to flee, or throwing down their weapons and falling to their knees. At this point, the battle largely hinged on Jeremiah himself.

@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@Asuras@jdh97@Psyker Landshark@Click This@OwO@Animal@TheFake@ERode@Crimson Paladin@ghastlyinc@PaulHaynek

She boiled beneath her clothing, her lungs protesting against the smoke all around. Pressed against the carcass of a tent, Elodie waited and waited, as more Iron Rose Knights dove towards the Bandit King, their weapons matched by the gargantuan man's own. Sparks flew frenzied, yet even with all directions covered, the giant did not fall, was not even injured by the onslaught. In a way, it was certainly terrifying. In another way, it'd be certainly satisfying to take him down.

In a third way, it had been what she was waiting for this entire time.

The artificer read Jeremiah's attack before he had completed it, and in that moment, she burst out from her hiding spot, runes on her magic weapon glowing bright. A single strike to maximum effect; that was what all her weapons were designed for. No need for duelling, no need for skill. Just a decisive, universal blow. The wave of debris rose, and Elodie met it with grim determination.

"Fire."

Ensorcelled inscriptions lit up within the barrel of the Blasting Rod, before an eruption of force and flame burst out from the open end, rocking her backwards. It was force enough to shatter stone walls, force enough to put thunder and lightning to shame, and against it, the shroud of debris simply could not withstand, dirt and stone blasting back against the Bandit King, crimson flames encompassing him completely. Mayhaps the lawless champion could withstand such a blow, but it mattered not. No longer obscured and wholly robbed of his senses by the roar of fire and light, the man was naught but prey to blades. After all...

Monstrous size has no intrinsic merit, unless inordinate exsanguination be considered a virtue.

Renar observed Bandit King Jeremiah's movements as he fought off the combined assault of several knights at once. Despite the fact that he was on the losing end of the last exchange, it was exceedingly impressive that the man even survived the attacks of multiple trained knights at the same time. Had it been a series of one-on-one duels, Renar doubted that any of the Iron Rose could prevail against the man singlehandedly, with the exception of Paladin Tyaethe. But they couldn't rely on her for everything.

Taking a moment to smack a charging bandit out of the way with the flat of his poleaxe's axe head, Renar leveled his weapon at Knight's Doom Jeremiah, his gaze steely. He saw how the man moved. He had his measure. One blow. He could get one good blow in. Renar would have to make it count.

Jeremiah raised his blade to strike. There it was. Renar charged from the man's flank, aiming to blindside him while he was preparing to strike one of his fellow knights. If he only had one sure blow, he'd make it count. Renar raised his poleaxe with both hands and thrust with all his might, aiming for the unarmored man's throat.

Tyaethe, on the explosion of fire and noise, promptly chose to disengage from Jeremiah and watch the results from a safe distance. Say, beside the person responsible for the shot in the first place. It was pretty unlikely that Jeremiah would be able to see anything now, which ought to make getting more blows in easier, but if there were too many people around they might hit each other, and...

"Have you ever been boar hunting, Elodie? You know, where if the spear breaks they'll gore you even if you're run through, or flail around wildly despite being fatally wounded, and they're too strong to stop?" the vampire asked, seemingly out of the blue, eyes fixed on the massive man.

@ERode