As Mors busied himself with tearing pieces off his kill, Branna looked ahead to the two bandits charging towards her, a grin stretching across her features. Glancing back, she flashed her grin at the wyvernless rider, then patted Mors, hefting her spear. “Axe.”
Under her, Mors gave the corpse one last tear before lifting himself into the air, a broken limb dangling from his jaws. Swooping towards the brigand from a sharp angle, he roared, his trophy falling to reveal rows of blood-smeared teeth.
On his back, Branna bared her teeth as well, her grin curling upwards as she angled her spear. Mors wanted the first strike this time—and just as well. The cute little horserider had landed an arrow on the bandit already, and he trailed a bit behind the spear wielder, but attacking from above gave Branna the choice to choose her target. In this case, she chose the weaker one—the one who'd make a quicker meal, and the one who already smelled of blood. And Mors, having just had a taste, was famished.
_________________________
Status: Fine Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 20/90 Inventory:
Iron Spear (3/3)
Vulnerary (3/3)
END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D
From the looks of it, they had managed to pierce through the front gates, though the commotion down south gave him some pause, before looking directly at the keep. He recalled his reports out this place being pretty decrepit, swarming with bandits, and needing to be repaired due to multiple weak points.
Einar sighed, his chest rising as he flicked the wrist holding his sword, staining the grass with crimson droplets as they flew off the blade. He didn't plan to rest, but he did do what he considered to do best besides wield a sword - observe, and thankfully his eyes were as keen as his ears as conflict occurred to the south of him. Resuming a combative stance, Einar looked to the ensuing skirmish down south, only for some of it to be resolved.
As the mercenary was about to dart south to assist, he stood still, instead whipping his head to look at something north of him. From a brief observation, he observed that the integrity of the keep appeared to be weakened in a certain area, worn and eroding with a few holes here and there; hell, he could possibly see in side if he got closer.
He could see inside.
Einar blinked, quickly looking to the blast powder he currently had, followed back to the wall, and the conflict transpiring at the entrance to the keep, cycling through this one more time before smirking and bobbing his head up and down. There was a plan being concocted in his mind at this moment as each information and item were thrown into the mix, all being brewed together as he pivoted around, facing the general direction of Alnard.
"Alnard," he bellowed, sprinting towards the prince like a jubilant school girl, his sword being a perfect substitute for the girls drooling dog as it splattered all over the area indiscriminately. "Er, Alnard, sir, we might be able to breach through a wall north of here with the blast powder," Einar exclaimed, turning and pointing in the general direction.
"If you bring a small group of people, we could easily infiltrate the fortress, possibly disrupting the flow of battle for the bandits while simultaneously making it easier for the southern advance to take them out. Just a recommendation."
_________________________ Status: Breaching like a bee
Class Page
Inventory Iron Sword [2/3] Vulnerary [3/3] Blast Powder [1/1]
Experience 45/115
Fortune 0
Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E
The south side was looking to become quite active, with Trace heading south too to join the fray. Bel manages to finish off the last archer in the window, while Branna strikes down the Brigand whose blood has already been drawn, a sure kill. Yet it left her sides open to an attack as the Lancer made a charge, striking at her and Mors' side. Not a clean blow, unsure if he should aim for the rider or the ride itself, he only manages to nick both of them. Not at all convincing.
As Trace arrives to the battle proper, he would spot two more bandits rearing out from the back of the building, a sword wielding bandit, and yet another axeman. It appears his presence was needed here.
Alnard gave the approval to use the blasting powder, and pretty soon the wall was done away. After a brief pause where the satchel was set, the fuse was then set off and after some tense moments the wall crumbled under a fiery explosion. While enemies were dazed from the initial blast, now was a good chance roll in and take the initiative.
With the opposition cleared out, Artemisia's allies could put their plan in motion. After receiving approval from the prince, one of the swordsman laid down his volatile burden and lit the fuse. The dark mage held up a sleeve to ward of dust and shards of stone from the ensuing blast, but she did not look away. A moment later a deafening blast went off, shaking the fort and ground alike, and the path was open. Recognizing a golden opportunity, Artemisia grinned and, counting on any nearby enemies to be stunned by the detonation, moved to the front of the group.
“Clearing the area!” she warned, a roiling Flux bubbling to life above her elevated palm. A little focus made the fell orb blossom into a miniature storm of chaotic bursts, crackles, and swirls. The dark mage breathed her incantation. “Transient and fickle, existence ever-changing, here and gone again.” There. Inside she could see movement. Disoriented enemies hastened to compose themselves and meet the intruders. Their first guest would be most unwelcome. Artemisia steeled herself, and shouted, “Flux!” An angry whir escaped the undulating mass above her hand as she whipped it back and threw it. It arced, leaving behind shreds of itself to pop and fizzle. On impact it released a deep tone and series of fell wisps that scattered and randomly, like violet lightning, for a split second before it all went up into one big burst of dark motes right in the middle of the enemy group.
As confident as she was in her witchcraft, Artemisia didn't expect her efforts to clear out the whole welcoming committee. The melee fighters like Einar could now rush in and clean them up. Pointing into the breach, the dark mage signaled for them to advance. “Now, while they're reeling!”
Trace had to adjust his plan. The allies attacking the south gate could handle two enemies, especially with one of them wounded already. The two fresh enemies that just came out the front door were a different matter. Those could make things tougher if more allies didn't get involved. And, it just so happened that they didn't seem to have noticed Trace yet. This was good, he could rush the remaining distance without weakening but that would be it. He'd need to avoid unnecessary running for a bit after that.
He changed his target and dashed toward the swordsman, driving his spear toward the enemy's lower ribcage. Swordsmen were rarely taught effective counters for the lance so this should be the quicker of the two fights. If he could stop the enemy's breath or cause any other mortal wound, he could then concentrate on the axe wielder next. But, he kept his feet light and his eyes on both nearby foes. He would need to dodge if he was going to survive.
_________________________ Status: Lightly Injured and Winded
With a nod and a mirthful smile, pivoting around and dashing to the area where the wall was weak enough to be breached. It was only a couple of seconds as the battle passed on by, but he seemed to block it out as he swiftly set it up, raising an eyebrow at the powder, blinking before looking back to the side, his eyes scaling up and to the sides of the walls.
Clicking the roof of his mouth he returned his gaze to the crafted explosive, recalling that they were instructed about needing a small spark. Sounded simple enough in his head as he planted his sword into the dirt and knelt near the base of the powder. Wickedly smiling, he began to snap his fingers; instead of utilizing flint and tinder like was requested, he decided to deviate just a bit and began snapping his fingers.
A few of his allies nearby waiting for the breach possibly would of been confused at what he was doing, or more than likely didn't care, until he stood up, flicking his hand for a bit before snatching up his sword and backing off from the wall, "Back it up!"
In a few seconds, the fuse fizzled, the powdered concoction sputtering and spewing before blasting away the deteriorating wall, causing a few chunks of stone, dust, and debris to fly in their general direction, but most of it flew inside.
Einar took one step forward before briefly stopping for a second, the dust slowly settling as an eager Artemisia stepped up to the forefront and flung a spell at their assailants, but not before tilting his head as he eyed the pretty magi, chuckling at her theatrics. Of course, the spell did kick up a bit of debris and dust, but not enough to obscure his vision as he held up an arm an winked, looking back in the off chance that anything did occur.
He barely caught a glimpse of the amorphous, bubbling cacophony of dark energy before it detonated. Once it was over, she barked her own commands, stating they were still reeling. "And I thought the blast powder we got was the actual bombshell," Einar commented as he flew right past her, looking behind at her with a wry smile on his lips as he twirled his sword, "try not to bring the whole keep down."
The smidgen of time was enough to spare, but not a second more as his eyes shifted around to the now dazed and befuddled brigands, swinging and bobbing around, holding their heads like they had a bad hangover. As Einar entered the fray once more, his eyes shifted once again, blinking as he swapped between both of the downed brigands before making a snap judgement.
While both appeared to be disarmed, one of the two appeared to have specialized gauntlets on, with modifications on it that could possibly shatter a few bones or two with enough applied pressure. Einar could only shudder as he approached the puglist, looking to swiftly end this confrontation on while they had the upper hand.
Kicking the man in the chest, hoping to knock him down before he could completely collect his bearings. Once he did that, Einar leveled his sword at the bandits neck before thrusting forward, looking to pierce it in one fell swoop.
Whether he was successful or not, Einar briefly remembered he did have allies, and peered behind him. He noticed a familiar face in this small team as he raised an arm up and pointed a finger directly at the door. "Kyran, funnel any bandits that come through that door! Don't let any in!"
_________________________ Status: Clear!
Class Page
Inventory Iron Sword [2/3] Vulnerary [3/3]
Experience 45/115
Fortune 0
Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E
Yes! The archer in the window was down. Although she couldn't be sure there weren't more inside the fort, or if the other brigands were trained at all in archery and might pick up their fallen comrades' bow, Bel was feeling reinvigorated now that the ranged threats had been dealt with. It meant not only her allies, but herself was safer now too. Ah, stop thinking like that! You're part of team now!
Her mount was turning back towards the Southern entrance before Bel even gave the command, perhaps anticipating her direction or maybe just looking for action itself. Sunbeam swiftly carried her back into the fray, the pair of them catching sight of not only the two new enemies rushing out of the fort, but also Trace who'd apparently gotten by her while she was taking down the archer. The lancer's appearance helped bolster her confidence - between him, Branna and Mors, she doubted they would have very much trouble getting into the stronghold.
The sound of an explosion on the other side of the fort meant that the others were in the midst of breaching, likely sending the enemies inside into disarray. In that case, they needed to get through into the fort to carry out this pincer attack! Bel rode up behind Trace, shouting a quick, "Behind!" to let him know she was there. Raising her bow, she took quick stock of the immediate situation, and deemed that the axe-wielding brigand was a better target. Wanting to make sure the brigand didn't gang up with a buddy on either Trace or Branna, Bel took aim and shot at the man, looking for a fatal blow.
A searing pain on Branna’s back had her turn around, her eyes darting down towards the lancer now standing beside her. Under her, Mors snarled, snapping towards the lancer with open jaws. As he sunk his teeth into whatever he reached first, Branna added her spear to the fray, skewering the lancer from above. The throbbing pain along her back fueled the grin on her face, and she croaked a laugh as the lancer pondered his last movements. That the non-riding wyvern rider had let her fend the blow alone didn’t bother her much; such was the rule of the battlefield. At the very least, though, she figured he’d want in on the kill, but it depended now on how angry Mors was. After all, the lancer had hurt him too—something much less easily forgivable than slashing her up.
As Mors busied himself with whatever it was he wanted from this corpse, Branna scanned the battlefield for their next target, her grin fading into a cruel smile as she spotted a few of the other mercenaries heading over. The horsebacked archer was old news and was preoccupied with the castle’s archers, but the arrival of a mage woman seemed to have freed her up. Ranged help, then, which Branna disliked as much as she appreciated. One flimsy arrow or misjudged spell and an ally could be a target instead. That was why Branna preferred close combatants—those whose strikes could only go wrong intentionally, because carelessness was also an intent. That, Branna knew.
As the two new bandits strode into the battle, Trace and Bel responded in kind. The axe brigand was given no time to spare as an arrow flew right for him, landing right in his shoulder, definitely stopping him from running after anyone, but now Bel was in his sights. Pulling the arrow out he began to sprint for her. Coming up behind Bel though was Wes, the healer they met earlier, healing her wounds.
Meanwhile Trace with his spear would find a mark at the swordsman's side, the blade wielding bandit would be forced to jump back and away to avoid an immediately fatal blow, before trying to counter-attack, yet combined with the shorter reach of a sword, and the few steps he would need to take to get in range, Trace would have little trouble defending or evading the simple attack.
Branna's brutal onslaught only continued, a confirming arrow was not necessary here as the lancer bandit fell. She was in prime position to assist Trace or Bel, although for the first time since spotting him in the forest, Branna spotted Gerrian emerging from the shadows just by the trees nearby. He gave a confirming nod, signalling he was watching. It seems he would take whichever bandit that Branna was not going to go for.
Einar rushed through the opening and struck at the Pugilist Bandit. Artemisia's earlier Flux disoriented them further, though it's damage seemed lacking used in such a way. A huge contrast to a focused attack with fatal properties. Regardless it allowed Einar to get a very clean strike in on the Pugilist, without a retaliation as he reeled away to regain his composure.
As that occured, a burst of fire blasted into the face of the other bandit, dealing a decent amount of damage, as Alnard entered the mix. Any moment that door should be filling with enemies, if they were to push, they required more assistance. Fortunately Hadrick managed to move up and in behind Alnard and Einar as support.
Battles never really go the way you want them to. The swordsman managed to dodge and even attempted a counter attack. Of course, Trace had plenty of time to read his moves and step aside, shifting his grip on his lance in anticipation and using his own evasive move to set himself up for an attack as soon as he evaded. This attack should be fatal. It was aligned with the enemy's vitals, the heart and lungs.
Trace had wanted to engage the axe wielder as well but he held himself back. If he turned to chase after him now, not only would the archer be in danger but Trace would have left his back exposed to the swordsman. That would just be foolish. The young lady archer would just have to survive a bit longer while he finished off this enemy first.
The nonrider finally emerged from the shadows, giving Branna a nod. He would follow her lead, then—or, rather, take note of what she did and do in turn since there was no reason for both of them to head for the same target. As a fellow opportunist, she could respect his craft.
Reaching for her wound, she touched it, let the stinging pain ebb as she retracted her hand, which was only faintly wet with blood. It wasn’t bad, but Branna didn’t like being wounded. Injuries were a nuisance that carried on until after the battle, a reminder of something dead, gone, and eaten by Mors or otherwise. She’d forget about the axe-wielder Mors was working on soon enough, but the nick he’d made on Mors? That, she’d remember. Though his skin was tougher than hers, covered by scales that overlaid each other like armor, he was no less mortal than her, and he bled all the same. As the person leading him into battle, then, it was her responsibility to take care of him, to keep him at flying weight and in hunting condition. Injuries were inevitable, yes, but there was a difference between scrapes and actual injuries. For scrapes that only required a few drops of the vulnerary, Branna wasn’t too concerned. Offended, but not concerned.
Scanning the battlefield, she spotted two more targets available: A swordsman engaged with the lance-wielding mercenary in good graces with the mage, and an axe-wielder heading for the cute little archer girl, who was now backed up by one of the group’s healers. Of the two mercenaries, the lancer seemed like he had things more under control, so the axe-wielder it was. No reason to let Mors’ wingspan go to waste.
“Mors,” Branna croaked, peeking over the wyvern’s shoulder to gauge how far along he was in his meal. “Axe.”
Still chewing, Mors raised his head to look at his next target, straightening as he spotted the axe-wielder. Opening his wings, he boosted himself up, Branna grinning on his back. How many bandits would it take to fill him up, Branna could only guess. Keeping count of how much he ate could be done after the battle—after they tore through the axe-wielder and the rest of the bandits in the fort.
As Einar got off his strike, he quickly yanked the blade out of the body before backing off, narrowly avoiding being struck by a low kick from the recovering bandit. Despite all the ruckus that had been wrought, he swore he could hear the sounds of some shouting coming from the dilapidated doorway.
Twirling his sword, he had no doubts that a swathe would be coming soon as he felt a blast of combustion from behind him, pivoting to witness Alnard entering the fray, as well as realize that the person he called out to wasn't Kyran, but someone else who emerged from the outside - an older knight in armor that he saw around camp nearby Alnard.
His eyes shifted between the entrance inward as well as the still very much alive assailants they were facing as they scrambled to recover. Einar primarily kept his eye on the one he attacked, who was clenching the side of his arm while blood leaked out profusely, groaning and barking out in pain. The mercenary locked eyes with the rabid pugilist, seeing the smoldering fury in those eyes as he clenched his jaw.
Einar merely took a deep breath before adopting an defensive stance once again while the pugilist held up a bloodied fist, the other arm limping somewhat uselessly, though twitching from time to time. From what he could observe, this man was completely focused on him, disregarding the other experienced knight. As Einar began to back up, the brigand began to slowly trudge towards him, before instantly breaking into a sprint.
Quickly, Einar aimed his sword at the mans vulnerable side, only for the bandit to switch priorities from punching his handsome mug in, to ramming straight into him with some thick, studded leather. Squinting, his breathing stilled, moments away from getting smashed by this fool.
Instead of playing at this game, the mercenary opted to just side-step the man, whose bullheadedness brought him almost careening into that mounted knight. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he instead chose to dash forward and strike a blow to the brigand that was engaged with the princeling, hoping to catch the man off-guard as he brought his blade down.
_________________________ Status: Planning and Prioritizing
Class Page
Inventory Iron Sword [2/3] Vulnerary [3/3]
Experience 45/115
Fortune 0
Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E
Action Disengaging from the Pugilist Attacking the other Brigand
Mission accomplished - well, sort of. Her arrow had indeed stopped the axeman from targeting any of her comrades, but he was still alive, and angry. Bel watched, slightly mortified, as the man ripped the arrow from his flesh and made a beeline for her. She didn't know if it was pure adrenaline that had the man running towards her with blood spilling from his open wound, or if the problem was her. Was her arm too weak, did the arrow not do as much damage as she'd thought? The girl sucked in a quick, steadying breath and silently urged the wild horse below her not to rush ahead to meet the man's charge. For what is was worth, Sunbeam seemed to heed her thoughts and didn't move save for stomping the ground in an attempt to intimidate everyone around.
Not many would find a horse, even one Sunbeam's size, very scary - but a wyvern was another story. As Bel nocked and let fly another arrow at the brigand getting dangerously close to her, suddenly the heavy flap of wings announced Mors' and Branna's arrival. Bel had, maybe not so secretly, found the woman and her wyvern to be a little frightening, but the sight of them now relieved her instead. Their strength was nothing to scoff at, and if Bel's arrow didn't take the axe down then surely the wyvern's teeth would finish the job.
That wasn't the only welcomed arrival however. A pure, healing light washed over Bel and she blinked as the wound she'd received earlier started to close up. Surprised, the pink-haired archer turned to see Wes casting his white magic beside her. "Wes, thank you!"
Contrary to earlier when she'd split from the larger group, now that she was back in the thick of it with companions by her side, Bel's heart was lifted and her conviction grew stronger.
Following her incantation, Einer moved forward to capitalize on Artemisia's provided opportunity. Before fully committing, however, he cast a glance back at her to offer a compliment. The dark mage permitted herself a smug smirk. “Of course. My magic is remarkably potent.” Then he was off, into the breach and striking out at the foes within, kicking and thrusting like he was being paid for it. Of course, she couldn't let him keep all the fun for himself, but she needed a moment to recover before casting again. Alnard himself arrived to sustain the attack, following Einar through the broken wall. Together they continued the attack, and when Hadrick appeared alongside Artemisia, they moved in one after another.
Inside, the dust and dark particles had just about cleared, leaving just friend and foe to sort out their differences. Unfortunately for them, the brigands seemed outnumbered. Artemisia pondered her team's good fortune, wondering if the squatters lacked the manpower to repel the attack, or if the blasting strategy was just that good. Either way, while Alnard engaged the brigand, she could scoot freely to the side and ready another Flux. Smaller and more compact, she held it aloft and waited for a chance. If Alnard possessed even the slightest situational awareness, he'd disengage with a parting blow and give her the chance to sneak in a Flux that'd make his job that much easier. Maybe it would even kill the guy, after that fireball.
Her plan went awry as the dynamic shifted. A full-bodied blow from the man fighting Einar brought him out of close quarters, and the swordsman went after Artemisia and Alnard's target instead. That left the other vagabond to deal with herself and Hadrick, but the dark mage hadn't counted on someone challenging her directly and was out of position. Undefended, she made for a tempting target, and she knew it. With a yell Artemisia flung her Flux at the free bandit, but her aim was high and her shot easily avoidable. She turned the movement of her arm into a sideways swing, pivoting to dart behind Hadrick for protection, but in her panicked state she harbored no idea whether or not she'd make it in time.
__________________________ Status: Alive but starting to fatigue
Bel having been healed by Wes, was no longer in danger while being engaged by the axe wielding Brigand. Her arrow and Branna's fierce companion striking nearly the same time, but between an arrow to his chest and a beast biting at the man's chest and neck, it was clear what would most certainly kill.
Within moments the front of the fort would be cleaned up as a super-charged Rin surged around the side of the castle, strike the sword-wielding bandit, giving Trace an opportunity to end this engagement immediately.
WALL BREACH! Enemy Spotted!
Bandit Pugilist (Einar, Artemisia +15/10 EXP)
Brigand (Einar, Alnard, Artemisia +10/5)
@Savo Einar +20 EXP @Lugubrious Artemisia +20 EXP NPC: William, Sumire, Rin
The bandit stumbling near Artemisia had barely just managed to graze her as a blast of dark magic made it to him in a full force blow sending him hurtling back. He would not give up though, but it was to little avail as Hadrick body-blocked him. A simple follow-up from Artemisia would easily seal the deal, especially in a now advantageous situation.
Regardless, the two would witness the last remaining bandit with his axe attempt to fight back Alnard and Einar to no avail as a rapid series of sword strikes from both combatants would give no quarter. The room was secured quickly enough, it was likely that more would be pouring through that door at any moment, so it's best they prepare themselves.
Blade met blade once more, though this time the squire's strike found no purchase anywhere on the mercenary. Frustratingly enough, the opposing swordsman was every bit skilled as he looked, with a clearly experienced block easily deflecting Kyran's slash. As his sword was flung wide from the defender, he offered a knowing smirk, for his allies had arrived and were now rapidly descending upon the exposed man. Like a pack of hungry wolves they struck their prey down with relentless blows of blade, spear, and flame. Not even the most skilled of fighters could defend all their flanks at once. Turning to face his allies he offered them a quick nod to show appreciation before following the amassed group towards the weakened northern wall they'd discovered during their previous scouting sortie.
The outside of the fortress was deceptively quiet now, being home to a tempest of combat mere moments ago. Though not all was calm yet, in the distance he could see Bel firing towards the fortress proper and the dragonrider, Branna dealing with brigands of her own. Einar was off planting some kind of blasting powder at the wall so a second entrance could be made, while he waited alongside the others some distance away. All things considered, the assault had been going relatively well. No losses that he knew of on their side and the exterior of the fortress was as good as secured. Those within the fortress however were all still unknowns, and they were about to rattle the hornets nest yet further. Caution would be wisest, as Kyran knew from his admittedly limited experience that bandits would rather fight like wild animals when cornered then try any kind of diplomacy.
A stabbing pain shot through his arm very suddenly, it seemed that his adrenaline was wearing off, the wound from the mercenary was making its presence known and felt once again. A glance downward at the torn up, now crimson stained cloth revealed that the wound was deeper than previously thought, and with no healer in sight, certainly an unfortunate scenario. The roar of the blast itself coupled with the pain of the injury caused the squire to recoil, grit his teeth and reach for a vial at his hip, a vulnerary. In a swift series of motions Kyran drank the contents and fought himself to not immediately retch at the taste, a mix between herbal bitters and a lingering earthy aftertaste that was all around nasty. It wouldn't completely take care of the injury and he'd have to deal with the wound properly after the battle, but it swiftly reduced the blazing pain to an almost unnoticeable level. With the injury dealt with and the weakened wall now a gaping open maw, Kyran spurred his mount onwards to join his allies inside.
Where he expected resistance however it seemed that the others had swiftly neutralized whoever was guarding the breached room. "Sorry I'm la- Huh... I guess you didn't need me after all." he offhandedly said as he rode up beside Einar. "Thanks for earlier, by the way." Kyran added, as he took stock of the room and situation they found themselves in. Two dead bandits, one exit. Myself, Hadrick, Einar, The Prince, and a mage... alright then. Maneuvering himself and Lei towards the door that lead deeper into the fortress he looked over his shoulder and asked the group. "Okay we're in, so what's the plan now then? Are we just holding this room for now or are we going further?"
_________________________ Status: Regrouped and ready
Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Sword (2/3) Vulnerary (2/3) Experience 50/90
END: C STR: D MAG: E DEX: E SPD: D DEF: D RES: C LCK: E
Action Using a Vulnerary, and preparing to advance With: Einar - @Savo Atremisia - @Lugubrious Alnard - @Sho Minazuki
Just as Trace was about to finish the sword wielder, that other lancer came charging around the corner and caught him at the same time. So uncommonly unfortunate was the bandit that he caught that other lancer's strike somewhere near the neck at the same moment that Trace's own lance pierced his chest through the side. It was an anti-climactic end to his final battle.
The bandit swordsman fell with barely a confused gurgle.
Trace didn't exchange much more than a glance with the other lancer before taking a place beside the main entrance. Both of them knew what they were doing and there were still enemies to slaughter, though not outside. Trace realized as he looked around that the remaining enemies all seemed to be inside the fort, or dying. Well, it would be a safer gambit with the other lancer involved. After all, there was no telling how that archer's horse would handle the interior... to say nothing of the rather savage wyvern.
As for Trace, he waited for long enough for the others in the immediate area to finish their business. In particular, he watched the other lancer. Depending on how he was trained, he might know the meaning of Trace's position. It was not uncommon for a pair of lancers to enter a hostile room in the same breath, side by side, before splitting up to face any foes on the flanks while their allies charged into the center. Trace was in position for his side. It remained to be seen if this other lancer would follow suit.
That was all the enemies outside down, then. At least from her count - and Bel was pretty confident in her counting, thank you. She was in starting to get a bit more confident at this whole battle thing too, as evident by her arrows still sticking out of a few of the corpses scattered around. She had the brief thought to stop and collect them, but no, that would be left 'til the end of the engagement. Taking the fort came first, along with making sure herself and her allies came out of it unscathed.
"Are we heading inside?" Bel found herself asking as she paused to collect herself. The question was quiet, more to herself than the others nearby but they would be able to hear it nonetheless. She gathered up as much of her courage as she could, staring into the fortress' entrance with bright, determined eyes. Her mount split his time between looking at the same entrance, and at the scaly winged creature close by. Sunbeam sneered at the wyvern, perhaps trying to intimidate it. The horse had an "alpha" personality, that much was certain...
With a quick tug the reins, Bel brought her steed under control and both mount and rider focused on the fortress, poised to gallop inside as soon as her companions did the same. She wasn't sure how tight the space would be considering Sunbeam was rather large, but the animal usually found a way - either by destroying interiors or scaring any people away.
As Mors got to work with his kill, Branna scanned the battlefield again. The outside of the fort was now clear, the enemy reduced to individual scraps and bodies around the place. A decent number of people had joined her at the front of the castle, and she vaguely wondered about how many people were still with the lordling. Allowing the coin purse to get himself killed before he coughed up was hardly right, even at the beginning of a long and high-stakes job like this one. While time might be saved, they’d already spent several days on this job, and every new one made ditching this one a less worth it.
But, that wasn’t the task at hand. Currently, there was a fort to seize, and when the little archer spoke up first, Branna felt herself grin. So the girl had a voice—a quiet one, yes, but one that didn’t tremble. One day, when the girl had a few more tallies in her headcount, she just might make a strong ally.
Under her, Mors snapped a bone loudly, crunching on it as he stared pointedly at the archer’s horse, who returned his gaze readily. The archer quickly redirected her horse’s attention, and Branna took her lead, patting Mors’ side with a scratchy snicker. In her experience, mounts tended to pick up some of their rider’s traits, so perhaps there was more to the archer than met the eye.
As for the fort, well, the door was large and the interior would no doubt fit Mors. Comfortably, probably not, but no self-respecting commander would build and rule a small fort. That said, while Mors was no stranger to small spaces, he didn’t like them much. They tended to give him a bit of the ‘cornered animal’ feel, if Branna were to try and describe it, and cornered animals were perfect for the battlefield. There’d be no flying or dodging inside, perhaps, but there would be lots of room for flinging and smashing things into walls.
Directing a final grin at the other mercenaries, Branna straightened. “Fort,” she croaked, looking straight at the structure’s metal-reinforced doors. They were thick, yes, but they were open.
Mors took off for them on foot, his feet pounding on the ground below as Branna grasped her spear. There was a real battle waiting inside, complete with skilled warriors and a talented commander. Bringing them down, well, didn’t that sound fun.
Stilled and silent, as the bandit should be as he slumped to the floor, bleeding out from the cuts and orifices the princeling and mercenary created. Without missing a beat, he pivoted to face the brawler he had wounded earlier, only for the corpse to slump onto the ground as small flecks of magic danced about the body, before dissipating, just as his life.
"Whoo, that takes care of them," he muttered giving a thumbs up and a smirk to the mage and prince before making his main priority the door once more. There was a bit of breathing room, at least for a brief minute as Einar tore a good chunk of cloth off the bandit closest to him. In one quickly swipe, most of the blood was absorbed, with a bit dripping or flying off onto the decrepit pavement.
However, his gaze stayed firm, eyes fixated on the door with a penetrating glare, like a hawk watching its prey, waiting to make one wrong move. He made one more quick swipe with the red-stained cloth before tossing it to the side, brandishing it as he held the edge close to his face. He didn't blink, only turning around to size up Alnard's guardian.
The way he rode his horse, the dull yet practical armor he sported, as well as other factors gave him pause for a moment. Maybe, just maybe...
...
Well, that maybe would have to wait for another time as Kyran came galloping in on his steed, Einars eyes being drawn to the arrival of his other companion. As his horse strode up, the mercenary gave a shallow nod and a slight smile, "No problem, just took advantage of the situation, that's all."
With that being all said and done, Kyran took his horse and steered it towards the door, observing it just as Einar had earlier and the mercenary noticed. "I think it's best that we hold down here," he replied, hoisting his sword onto his shoulder, pointing the hilt at the door as he gave a sidelong glance in the general direction of the others.
"They focus on us, the others assaulting the front should be able to clean the other bandits up; if they don't, we flank em'," he uttered, nudging his sword off his shoulder, before swinging it in a lackadaisical fashion as he pointed it at the door.
"To make this happen, Kyran and I will cover the door, Alnard and Artemisia will harass anyone that attempts to get in with spells, and Alnard's Bodyguard will watch our flank to make sure there are no stragglers." The aura he projected was vivid, rapping his fingers on the hilt before tightly grasping it as he fiendishly smiled, waiting for them to try and catch them all off guard, if they even tried it.
