Martin Hollowsland

"Come'on lads, w'this many tracks 'eyre bound 'ta be 'round 'ere some'ere!"

The gruff yet boisterous voice of the red bearded knight called back to his retinue. Following behind the knights tall mottled brown stallion were some of his squires and a small pitiful fellow by the name of Martin. All of the knight's retinue were carrying his belongings whilst he rode along at a walking pace. Martin was helping the other squires since even though he wasn't one himself, he was just along since the knights thought it best to send him along with the knight so he can go and ply his skills under their rising star captain's forces. As such, the others in this small travelling group saw it fair that he haul his fair share too. It wasn't mandatory but Martin was far too polite to refuse. What he was able to carry however was little more than a bucket with a flask of rust-proofing oil and a jar of polishing wax.

It was a struggle just to walk what with his lame leg which he had inherited from his friend. On each step with the injured leg pain shot up through it all the way to his hip and back. Still, he'd wince and bear it, trying not to let on he was in pain. He didn't want to have to lie to these folks and come up with some lame excuse as to why his leg was as messed up at it was. He had to compensate his steps just to not appear like he was favoring one leg too much over the other which definitely didn't help the hurting. With his lantern lighting up a little around himself and the bucket in hand he trudged on, ever quiet as he carried his weight amidst the small crew.

_
"Ho there! Aye see sum activitae up 'head."

Through the thinly spread trees the knight could make out something happening up ahead. He prudently kept at a trot until the scene beyond was clearer to him, his squires and plus one still in tow as what was going on became clear. It seemed a group of mercenaries, some Golden Boars if their heraldry was anything to go by, were setting upon... The Iron Roses! The knight managed to glimpse the familiar heraldry of his own comrades off nearer to what seemed to be a shrine of sorts.

Martin saw a somewhat different scene before him though perhaps felt might be more appropriate. He could see a medley of faint forces at play before him, magics of a small variety coming into use in the battle that was ensuing over in the distance. He could feel the latent energies even from this far, his skin lightly prickling from the unearthly sensation radiating out towards him.

_
"Aha! In'tah th'fray then!"

The knight energetically bellowed as he rode forth through the right flank of the mercenary's line, spearing who he could before rolling up to the Iron Rose knight's lineup.

"Hullo thar! Knight Rorly Redregard at 'yer service!" The thickly accented knight brandished his spear towards the mercenaries.
"Let's clean up this mess so we can get acquainted right propah!"

With that said the knight enthusiastically rode back out into the fray, using the chaos of combat, especially that caused by the really large armored fellow hacking mercenaries up down front to try and ride down the flank and catch loose mercenaries with the tip of his impressively hefty spear.

All the while his squires and Martin were left well behind the enemy line, standing there without much clue as to what to do from here on out given how their knight just rode out, forgetting them completely in the thrill of battle. Martin himself was subtly shuffling himself over behind a tree in the hopes of not getting spotted by enemy mercenaries and summarily murdered.

---

Every ounce of her practically screamed to continue her assault directly into the Boars' line. Runa knew full well her own prowess, despite her stature, might catch a few off-guard, and the rest she would handle by demonstrating her own skill. She was certain, ready to plow into the enemy and bare her fangs. "Damn it!" The Hundi swore to herself, shaking her head to force that edge from her mind. Now wasn't the time to play hero, to recklessly throw herself into her opponents. They wouldn't show mercy like the knights had during training, they'd finish the job this time. The Hundi pulled on Fenrir's reins to wheel the horse around and thunder after Gerard into the clearing. The Hundi dismounted a good distance about, joining the ring formed by her fellow knights around the Cal girl. Her position had her towards the front, where she would no doubt be meeting the vanguard of the Boars' forces as they charged into battle. On her left, she saw Gerard readying his longsword, ensuring she stayed even with him to neither leave herself exposed nor a break in their line.

With a deep breath, Runa let the adrenaline coursing through her veins leak into the expression on her face. A smile grew across her lips, eyes widened just slightly, and a slight hint of something wild burned behind her gaze. A glare shot across the soon-to-be battlefield, locking onto the merc directly opposite her. Whispering her incantation, the Hundi let loose a diagonal swing across her body, and towards the ground. Flames lept to life along the blade's length, and her equally fiery gaze shifted back towards her opponents. The Hundi twitched as if in excitement for the coming battle, a rather gratuitous display of aggression and intimidation. One, she hoped, would throw her enemies off balance. Cause a hesitation in their actions, just enough to give them an extra edge in the coming fight. Let these Boars think me mad... She silently prayed, hoping her over-zealous display had paid off. After all, she knew eyes would be on her after the previous fireball, she only hoped she could press any advantage she had previously gained. A soft sigh left her lips as she prepared for the coming fight.

While the Boars were attempting to build a formation and punch through the Knights' defensive line...

Fanilly found herself relaxing. If only a little. Not only had other knights joined them, those who had been stationed away from Candaeln due to return if she recalled correctly, but their actions had disrupted the mercenaries' attempts to reform their assault. However, that did not mean there was any reason to let their guard down.

She still suspected a second attack.

"Thank you, Sir Zherun, Sir Rorly!" she called to the newly arrived knights, "I will fill you in on what has occurred as soon as I am able, for now ensure that not a single one of these Boars is able to reach Lady Cal!"

Even the attempts by the Boars to retreat and regroup were faltering. Not only had the knights disrupted them even further, but Haelstadt...

It seemed as if, with ever step, Haelstadt killed another man. Their enormous blade seemed to tear through armor and chain as if it was not there, sheering through steel in a single swing. They cut one man in half in a single swing, before piercing a man through his helment and entirely through his head, lifting the corpse into the air and allowing it to slide off of their Zweihander.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" cursed one of the Boars, the man who had lead the initial charge, "Where are you bastards?! We're being slaughtered!"

It seemed as if the predictions of a second attack were correct. Indeed, another force of Boars swiftly emerged from the foliage, this time many armed with spears. At their head was a particularly heavily-armored man, his figure appearing quite rotund though it was difficult to tell beneath the black plate.

If they were allowed to remain in formation, they would be far more threatening to horse-mounted knights.

"Disrupt their formation! Do not take them head-on!"

Haelstadt was already working on that of their own accord. While they had not strayed much further, the moment any Boar came within range the black-armored knight was upon them, hacking them down in seconds. Until, as they drew their blade from the body of one man...!

Fanilly was unable to move quickly enough.

A black-headed axe came down, and with an ugly chunk, it bit through Haelstadt's neck. With a spurt of blood, their helmeted head hit the ground. The perpetrator was a large, axe-wielding man, a grin on his face.

"... I..."

She should have been more careful. Fanilly cursed herself inwardly. She had just allowed Lady Cal's bodyguard to die, hadn't she? She should have allowed the knights more room to reinforce their ally, who was fighting so hard to protect their lady... She could have done something different, right? She should have...

"Hah!"

That, was Lady Cal's voice?

"As long as I'm alive, Haelstadt won't fall. Those morons are about to get the shock of their short lives!"

Haelstadt did not fall. In spite of currently being headless, the black-armored knight spun in place, bringing their free hand around with enough force to break the axeman's neck on contact with the side of his head.

Needless to say, the surprise of the headless knight continuing to fight(albeit clearly having a hard time coordinating after the initial neck-breaking slap due to the current location of their head on the ground) proved quite a distraction to the Boars' reinforcements. If they could break the second attacking force, the skirmish would be won!

@Raineh Daze@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow@Martian@A Lowly Wretch@JessieTargaryen@FlappyTheSpybot@ghastlyinc

Martin Hollowsland

His view was rather obscured from all the way outside the action where he was. This was fine since he was hiding in the bushes but the enemy reinforcements emerging from the bushes was waaay too close for comfort, giving him a real scare. He kept his mouth shut tight of course, one of the few skills he's honed quite well over his relatively short life. From his poor vantage he could see a mess of things happening, a good amount of it centered on the enigmatic black knight hacking away at the enemy soldiers. Well, at least until the knight got it's own head lopped right off. Martin cringed at the sight of the knight's demise. He knew he should of expected that these things would happen in battle but seeing it and not being able to stop it was still a hard truth for him to swallow.

And then the knight just killed the guy that killed him, breaking their neck with a punch. Martin's eyes were wide with disbelief.

'Oh goddess, that's probably an undead, isn't it? I'm eighty, possibly eighty five percent certain that's what it is. This isn't good. Who's using necromancy to aid the Iron Rose Knights? What have I gotten myself into?'

Thoughts were racing rapidly through his head in an ever-increasingly concerned tone. Much like Sir Redregard's squires however he was in no position to even say anything, let alone act upon these revelations.

_
Meanwhile, as for Sir Redregard he simply gave a salute, grinning with anticipation.

"Aye! Ah'll ride down any flankin' bahstids, dun't 'ya worry commanda!"

Leaving Fanilly with that difficult message to decipher he rode on out towards the rear. With spear at the forefront he swept against the flanks of the enemy's reinforcement wave, spearing men at the very edge of the line before peeling off to line up for another run at the enemy, keeping his eyes sharp for enemies units trying to pull up on the Iron Rose's own flanks.

Someone still fighting with their head cut off... that wasn't something you saw every day. Definitely necromancy, but it was hard to say if it was actually illegal on the face of it? Provided that Haelstadt wasn't actually dead then it was probably an offshoot of some of the more desperate healing scenarios... but now wasn't the time to go stripping the knight to find out. It just gave her an excuse to ask for a fight after this was all done, right? A strong opponent that wouldn't be harmed even if they didn't hold back...

The paladin shook her head. Right now, the important part was ending this fight, and Haelstadt had given her an idea. Disregarding Fanilly's instruction to not take them head on, Tyaethe took deliberate steps towards the wall of spears and then threw herself at the front lines.

If their morale wasn't already wavering from the headless warrior and flanking maneuvers, she'd make sure it broke. One unkillable monster was bad enough, but two...

Just because she wanted to get hurt, didn't mean that it was going to be any easy thing. Penetrating her armour was no simple task even with a wall of spears, and it was frustratingly obvious that there was some magic at play in the vampire's strength as she pushed forwards into what should have been an impenetrably prickly thicket. The same deceptive strength came into play as her sword swung round, the figure in front of her raising a shield just in time to intercept it... but with an implausible burst of speed added on at the last second. Shield, armour, body--none of them had the resistance needed.

Of course, this finally gave someone time to locate a chink in her armour and bury a spear deep.

Excellent.

The same as with Haelstadt's unexpected decapitation, there was no cry of pain, just a triumphant look in the glimmering red eyes. One hand freed itself from Tyaethe's sword and grabbed at the spear shaft, pulling... and pulling... and pulling. In a dark battle like this, it was hard to see, but an arm shouldn't have quite that range of motion, should it? Nor should a single person be able to overpower you so...

Whatever was going on, that enemy was never going to work it out. The spear, wrenched free of its target, was similarly ripped out of their grasp and buried in their throat. That, Tyaethe thought, should surely be enough? Everyone was working at the edges, she was now in their midst, that was two people that didn't die if they were hurt...

Sir Kherun Zeydria

The snow haired knight smiled as the Knight-Captain welcomed him. But then he remembered that he had just entered a battle. He made his steed Wedge whip around to face the mercenaries surrounding the knights. Pretty much all of them that Kherun had knocked over were back up on their feet. But in the confusion another knight had joined them, a Sir Rorly.

Kherun turned to the red-haired knight, giving him a quick nod. Kherun then made ready to charge the mercenaries’ line, but then more of them emerged from behind some foliage. The majority of them were wielding spears, one’s with quite a long reach. Kherun immediately thought of Wedge, worried for the safety of his longtime steed. Not wanting to risk the horse, Kherun quickly dismounted him.

Kherun then turned to his horse and ordered, “Hide within.”

Thanks to his druidic history, Kherun was able to clearly confer his meaning to the animal. Wedge then turned and trotted back into the fort. Kherun then raised both his sword and staff, spotting a mercenary a few feet away. The white haired knight lunged with his sword, but was promptly deflected by his enemy’s blade. Kherun grimaced at the revelation that the bad guys wouldn’t go down as easy as in stories. Truth be told, this was Kherun’s first actual combat. But he wasn’t wielding a wooden sword at the castle, this was deadly steel.

The mercenary then slashed at Kherun, which he blocked with his staff, the wood undamaged from the blow. Kherun then responded with a slash with his other hand, this one making contact with his opponent’s throat. With a gurgle, the man collapsed as he bled out. Kherun wasn’t prepared for how much blood there was. He instinctively turned his head away from the sight, only to see a man a few meters from him have his head lobbed off.

There was even more blood with this, as the head hit the ground. Kherun was upset to see that the man seemed to be an ally. But then the young knight noticed that his body should of fallen already. Instead the body moved on its own, slamming into his killer’s neck, immediately breaking it. The whole incident caused a wave of anxiety to wash over Kherun. Not only was this deadly combat, but dark magics were at play, as necromancy was the only way Kherun figured the headless man could still be fighting.

Fleuri Jodeau

It was clear that fighting mounted wouldn't be a good idea, as the Golden Boars were now quite well-prepared to repel cavalry. Fleuri was just beginning to dismount when he witnessed one of the mercenaries cleave Haelstadt's head off. Fleuri was quite horrified by this development, which served to him as a harrowing reminder how dangerous these mercenaries really were. It was a warning that they could not
afford to underestimate the Golden Boars, lest they suffer the same fate.

However, Haelstadt did not fall. In fact, they didn't even stop fighting. Veileena proclaimed above the sounds of battle that her bodyguard could not die so long as she lived. It must have been magic of some sort, but Fleuri wouldn't have any idea what sort of magic it was. If Damon Cal's death by beheading was any indication, however, Haelstadt probably wasn't a vampire. In any case, it was something he could think about some other time, because right now, he needed to rejoin the battle. Hearing Fanilly's orders to disrupt the formation, he gave a brief nod to Gerard, then charged.

"For Reon! For the Roses!" Fleuri shouted as he dashed towards the second group of Golden Boars. He swung his sword at the enemy forces' incoming spears just as they came into range of his weapon, intent on cutting off the spearheads and making a hole in their formation. He didn't fight a lot of spear-wielding enemies, but he knew how to fight them- by striking the wooden shafts in a manner not too dissimilar to cutting his way through defensive stakes, using the length of his sword to keep himself out of skewering distance. Gerard, being a former mercenary, was probably more familiar with such techniques. If Gerard had a zweihänder instead of that longsword, it probably would be Fleuri following his lead, but in any case, he trusted that the younger knight would know exactly how to back him up in this situation.

Assuming his attack succeeded, he'd take another step forward and backswing his sword back at them, this time aimed at the men behind the spears. He would need to rely on the others to follow through, lest he be cut off an surrounded by these ruthless mercenaries. They needed to break up the Golden Boars defensive formations and defeat the black-armored commander leading them.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

---

While her distraction seemed to have caused some to stagger, the boars soon grew more distracted by a horrific sight that even shook Runa for the briefest of moments; the headless Haelstadt continuing its rampage through the enemy. What the hell is that thing? The Hundi thought for the briefest of moments before her attention was once more turned on the second wave of Boars. It seemed that even with the horror show of a display, the enemy wouldn't be stopping their attack anytime soon. Runa tried her best to force the thoughts of the headless swordsman fighting nearby from her mind, knowing that a distraction would only serve to end her life. A fact which was frighteningly real to the young woman, now that she was fighting a real enemy instead of training back at the castle.

Then came the orders to disrupt the enemy's formation, and Runa knew exactly what she needed to do. That familiar rush surged through her veins as adrenaline, and anticipation for the coming battle electrifying the young knight. In a sudden flurry of motion, Runa charged the enemy lines at a breakneck pace. Her bastard sword still burning brilliantly, wreathed in flame as she descended on the Boars' formation. Off to one side, the Hundi was aware of Fleuri making his own assault on the enemy lines, nearly in perfect sync with her own attack. As she slammed into the enemy lines, the Hundi's bastard sword flashed around in a deadly arc. The attack meant to smash clear through the spears of those Boars closest to herself, and ward the others back a few steps.

Already, the knight would then be driving her weapon in for a decisive killing blow, a stab through the gut, on the Boar directly ahead of herself. Aiming to keep the pressure from her assault on the opponents, regardless of whether or not her initial attack had succeeded. She knew the moment she lost the offensive, the Boars would have her in a bad spot. She needed to keep them on the defensive...

Gerard Segremors

@JessieTargaryen@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

And roughshod over the Boars, the crushing thunder chased the piercing lightning.

He recognized this.

As the man ahead of him charged forward, drawing his zweihander into a whirling, deadly cyclone of silver, Gerard caught his intent in that shared glance all but perfectly— and it seemed the more things were to change, the more they'd stay the same. How to reconcile his reforged commitment to grow beyond his past with this perfect position to draw upon the experience it gave... he could not begin to scratch upon it. The irony registered in his head, passing as a flicker, before the crash of steel on wood blew it away. He could ruminate when there was time for it.

"For Reon! For the Roses!"

"For Reon! Their lines are broken!"

His voice echoed Fleuri's, a coarse bellow that doubtlessly reached the ears of all on the field.

His legs had already begun to move as the call resonated in his ears, body acting even while the mind had jammed. As a mercenary in the Black Regiment, he had played this role so many times as to beat it into the very fiber of his being, surging towards the Boars' second line in Fleuri's wake with longsword held ready. As an emulation of a Doppelsöldner, his senior's primary focus was acting as a shock troop— hitting the formation hard and fast, with intent to disrupt just as much as kill. The Zweihander he held had tremendous cutting power thanks to its length, mass and balance once it got up to speed, and he plainly wielded it amply, utilizing himself as fulcrum and maintaining that hewing, smashing momentum as much as he could without overextending his balance.

And smash it did. Ahead of him, in the second and a half span between their charges, Gerard saw him bring all that velocity and force down upon not the boars wielding the spears, but a comet crashing down onto the hafts themselves. It knocked them loose from their grips, the sudden force down past the center of the weapons' balance sending them in a jumble as their thicket of spearheads were knocked aside, past where they could be kept facing Fleuri, Gerard, or the troops yet behind.

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. Such a misplaced pride, given the circumstances, and yet...

The torrid, bright yellow-orange of a surging bonfire burst to life in his peripheral, and he realized that Runa was making her own stab at the idea, a few paces away. The sword she carried served as something of an intermediate point between his own and Fleuri's Zweihander, not quite so plainly smashing as the latter but still enough to amply knock the spears off line— and if any of them caught the flame, so much the better.

Two pockets of discord in the formation ahead, on either side. Two of his compatriots extended outward, ahead of him, and potentially encircled once the enemy regrouped from the sudden disruptions in formation. Already working their way into the meat behind the spears they attacked, the concept of attacking the weapon to split the guard as the enemy was forced to retreat or recover. Step upon the enemy's sword, and you have his throat without fail. They had maybe seconds.

On their own, that was.

He had to keep his head about him. The rush of combat was inevitable. It was the body readying itself for doing whatever it needed to survive. Like stepping into a roaring river, it was not a force you stopped. He couldn't hold it down. He would ride the current. Let it carry him, but not toss him about.

In his final steps, Gerard centered his resolve.

"DON'T LET 'EM REGROUP!"

And then he was upon them, and let the flow of swordplay take his movement.

The former mercenary brought his longsword down through the collarbone of the nearest Boar in a tight oberhau while they scrabbled to bring their formation back to proper regimenting, to reassert their control over their weapons. It bit deep, drawing a spray of crimson— and with a firm boot planted in the chest, Gerard wrenched it free again, shoving the dying man into his fellows behind. He drew it up to his brow, entering ochs guard, before stepping forward in a lunge and ramming the tip into another as they tripped over the sudden body in their feet.

Having caught himself between the two, his role was crucial now— the more he capitalized on those moments of disruption, the safer he would leave his two fellows as those moments passed. He fell in upon both groups simultaneously from their fringes— the areas that were also most likely to survive the initial clashes with Fleuri and Runa without him.

A senior and a junior knight. A respected mentor and one of the first wave of recruits newer even than he.

Both ends of his relationship with the Order, and his status within its members. Two very different sets of responsibilities a man could feel, but both ended at one duty: He would not let them die for this.

All rank fell away in the melee. They were fellow soldiers knights now, no more and no less.

For their courage to amount to nothing would be the lowest thanks he could give— no honor to be had. No justice.

He would answer them rightly.

Cutting,
whirling,
thrusting,
swinging,
parrying,
fighting,
killing. killing all who would do harm.

Gerard felt the rhythm, the ebb and flow, hold him again, guide his hand through motions it knew. His skirmishes with the Boars would serve a grander purpose here than he had ever known they would within them. He trusted the memory of his body, and let his mind clear.

Need not rage.

Purpose.

Terror.

Terror was a weapon wielded by the Boars. Their black armor, their ruthless tactics, all of these were intended to bring terror upon their enemies and ensure that they were paid.

And yet today, they were on the receiving end of that terror.

A headless warrior, who had now now only shrugged off multiple spear thrusts to gaps in their armor but had used those attacks to locate the Boars and cut them down, who seemed to be using the line of sight of their own severed head to navigate. A crimson-eyed knight who ignored any injury to simply slaughter one Boar after another.

This disruption only served to weaken them as the other knights attacked from the sides. Fleuri's spear-breaking blows, Gerard's aggressive yet focused assault, Runa's burning sword, and the knights who had freshly joined the fray...

A last ditch effort by one foolish(or perhaps terrified) Boar was ended in a flash by the edge of Fanilly's sword, as she advanced on horseback, the Boars' line no longer able to resist a forward attack. Still, it was not a feeling of triumph in the young Knight-Captain's heart. Even if Haelstadt had somehow survived, anyone else would have died. But at the moment there was no further time to dwell upon that.

For the skirmish was nearing its end.

Another unsuspecting Boar attempting to desperately attack one of her knights was bowled over by her horse.

"Victory!" she cried, "Victory for the Moon, and the Iron Rose!"

The Boars shattered. Their formation completely broke down under the knights' assault. The fact that they were being attacked from all sides, that their formation was no longer effective, and that two supernatural nightmares were among their enemies, was far too much even for the ruthless Golden Boars.

The black-armored commander let out a bellow, a cry of "Retreat!"

The skirmish had ended. The Boars were fleeing, turning tail and scattering into the forest that they had sprang from.

Haelstadt's lengthy blade lowered, blade glistening with blood. Their armor, too, was stained, both by the enemy's blood and their own.

Then they fell to their knees, and, with their hands extended, began to try and locate their head. Indeed, it seemed like they were trying to use their sightline to direct their body to the right location, but that was easier said then done.

It was a surreal sight, to say the least.

@Raineh Daze@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow@Martian@A Lowly Wretch@JessieTargaryen@FlappyTheSpybot@ghastlyinc

Martin Hollowsland

Battle. A brutal, unforgiving clash of will and skill. Martin by nature avoided conflict. It was terrifying being caught amidst the maelstrom of conflict that surrounded him, the various knights employing differing means of breaking their enemies both physically and mentally. The Iron Rose's tactic ultimately won them the battle as the enemy were now fleeing. Fleeing past him.

He hunkered low, praying hard that he wasn't seen by the many vicious mercenaries who were scattering past him. Heavy boots of heavily armed men stomped nearby. He couldn't see for his head was low, the bushes being the only thing in his sightline. He was neither brave nor fierce like the knights he had come to serve. He was a pitiful sight indeed. Luckily no one was able to see it, else he'd be caught by stray enemies and most likely killed. So he waited, biding his time until the foes were well and truly cleared from the battlefield.

_
With time he soon found an opportunity to peek his head from his hiding spot. Only corpses and the Iron Rose knights remained, along with the woman and that... Thing that seemed to be wandering about, grasping for it's missing head from the looks of it. He really didn't know what to make of it, not without further inspection. His curiosity was far lesser than his discomfort with being near the strange thing.

Still, it had done an admirable service. Protecting the knights and dispersing the enemies, this headless knight was a big part of their victory here. He wasn't going to fault the other knight's efforts but this now headless swordsman sowed a great deal of discord and racked up a fairly large body count too.

He was conflicted. For his reticence towards the headless knight he still felt it would be wrong to slight it after all that it had done. It was far more than what he had done, hiding there whilst the battle ran to it's own conclusion. Had the knights lost or suffered it would of been his fault, at least in part. Doing something was better than doing nothing, however little it might be.

_
Stepping forth from the underbrush he tentatively approached the site where the headless knight's head laid, cautiously stepping around the dead bodies both to avoid unnecessary bloodstains upon his garb and out of his relative squeamishness. Gingerly he lifted the decapitated head from where it lay, turning to face the knight's body as it searched for what he held. He could feel his stomach in his throat as the fear seized him, this intimidating unnatural entity standing before him, no indication as to what it may do next.

Preemptively grimacing so tightly his eyes were shut he held the head out, offering it back to the knight it belonged to.

It wasn't much but at least he was doing something.

_
@VitaVitaAR

Throughout the melee, the naga had spared the occasional glance over her shoulder to keep tabs on the action behind her. When Sir Haelstadt had his head lopped clean off, Maritza tensed briefly, the Knight Serpenta clearly noting Lady Cal's words as she filed the information away for future use. Having returned her attention to the still seemingly empty woods behind them, it was not until after the Boar's commander had called for a retreat that the naga finally let up on her vigilance of their back.

With a twist of her human body, Naritza looked down at the young noblewoman still loosely wrapped in her scales. "As long as you're alive, Haelstadt won't fall. Those were your words, yes Lady Cal?" There was something oddly detached about the naga's tone; a cold, predatory attitude, as if preparing for the kill. "I do believe you owe us an explanation in full for all this, now." The Knight Serpenta added in the same too-calm voice as her coils tightened around the childish noble with gentle firmness. For Lady Cal, the naga loomed above her, the demi-human's helmeted face and not entirely human body language offering little in readability.

Haelstadt seemed to express a moment of confusion at the offered head before taking it out of Martin's hands and putting it back where it should be. Seemingly, without any other intervention required, it was being healed to remain firmly attached once again, with one hand only staying there briefly to steady the process.

Veileena, unfortunately, was being particularly uncooperative despite the seeming danger she was in, the girl's expression stormy. "Are you threatening me? Hmph. Then I won't answer your questions or any others."

That got a response out of the armoured knight, immediately turning without so much as a word to Martin and starting towards the pair...



... now what? Maybe there was a survivor here that they could interrogate? There had to be some reason for a group of hired mercenaries to be ambushing them here. Preferably an answer that would make the inconvenience and pain of being impaled worth it; although, all things considered, that had gone remarkably well on the knights' side.

But questions of "what should we do next" or "maybe we should split up and look around were arrested by the more pressing concern of what was, ostensibly, an unkillable bodyguard seemingly in the process of about to get right to that. Moving fast, Tyaethe dropped her sword and attempted to restrain Haelstadt... although, as fast as she was able to close the gap, this was proving to be difficult. Of course, she didn't want to push it and she wasn't that strong, but even basically just wrapping around Haelstadt from behind... how strong was this knight? Haelstadt was still making forward progress. Just slower.

"Maritza, maybe let the noble girl go?" Tyaethe sounded rather irritated. Perhaps it was the diplomatic incident this would be.

@FlappyTheSpybot@A Lowly Wretch

Gerard Segremors

@JessieTargaryen@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

Their ranks crumbled beneath the crushing surge from the knights, and they began to turn tail at the behest of their blackguard officer. One by one, by two, by five, then by tens— the Boars were in full retreat, scattering and melting into the trees, out of the reach of his silver-stained crimson. His own breaths now filled the deafening void in the wake of clashing steel and spraying blood. The Knight-Captain's high and clear call reached his ears to confirm it:

The night was won.

"Victory," he managed, lost beneath the stronger cries of his fellows with fuller lungs.

Gerard... didn't know how long it had been.

Even with the resolute desire for presence within the chaos, time was a wind that slipped between his fingers, even had he wanted purely to grasp it. To throw oneself in the melee as he had, lost within the swordplay, it was a fool's errand. All he knew was that his condition hadn't failed before their morale.

Though, as he stood there panting, it may have yet been a close-run thing. Following up the Zweihander might not have exactly been tip of the spear, but acting as the weight driving behind it was tough work in its own right— like sprinting up a mountainside. All momentum— the moment he lost pace or focus, he would have been gutted like a fish. Their training had seen to it that they could exploit the opportunity Fleuri and Runa had created, but, equally, the Boars had their own— and it allowed them to get halfway to regrouped.

He took a step forward, waving to the two he'd wedged himself betwixt—

On the individual level, at least, their counterattacks had been sound right at the end. The better fighters, more experienced of the Boars, had for all his distaste of them been cut from the same cloth as he— thinking and acting on their feet was pressed into them on the anvil of the war campaign. The knights had won on a formation level handily with the snap judgement made by the Doppelsoldner routine.





He grunted, shaking his head and forcing his vision straight again. With a furrowed brow, the knight wiped sweat free from his face only to find himself suddenly aware of a deep, burning sting down from his cheekbone to his jawline, fading back into his senses as the last of the fight left him, and he was brought down to earth.

He grit teeth as more of those same lines of angry, dull flame began to draw themselves along the gaps in his armor, the folds of cloth where he moved. His armor had begun to feel heavier, now, and he imagined he was beginning to look a little pale and sluggish. Was the air always this cold?

Well, it being nighttime, maybe it was just the atmosphere. Long days asked for long rests, and the moon was high among the stars tonight, drowning them beneath its soft white glow. Tired and aching were familiar enough...

He checked his palm, fearing the result. A pull in his arm didn't make matters any better...

Red.

No trying to convince himself otherwise now.

He sighed inwardly, as two thoughts hit his mind at roughly the same moment as he marched forward again, this time with a pointedly steady stride.

Guess that was a long time coming.

"Fleuri, Runa. All good?"

Ow. Ow, okay. Ow. Dammit. Ow.

For several moments the naga offered nothing in reply, except for her snake half which carefully tightened it's grip around Lady Cal further. Though not enough to risk genuinely hurting the girl, the knight serpenta's scales were tight enough to most certainly be uncomfortable. Then with a slow sigh, Maritza unraveled herself, gently pulling away from the young noblewoman. "As you command, Dame Radistirin." The naga's reply came in the same eerily calm voice, as she withdrew to a more polite distance and sheathed her axe in the process.

"Very well Lady Cal, if you won't answer to us, then I suppose you will have to answer to the crown and church. The daughter of a traitor with an undying bodyguard who has hired mercenaries to acquire a shard of an apocalyptic weapon which is responsible for the death of an entire garrison of soldiers, all of which neatly coincides with an assassination attempt on the princess... You must understand that this does not look good from our position." The naga added with slow, carefully chosen words; folding her arms across her chest as she looked on noblewoman.

Sighing, the vampire released the armoured bodyguard, armour disappearing and shrinking... though, as short as she was, it was at least considerably more adult than normal. After all, it seemed like there wasn't likely to be much more fighting here, and this was less intensive to maintain. Healing lethal stab wounds off a limited diet... well, it worked, but it was inefficient. Haelstadt, of course, went straight for Veileena, hovering protectively behind the noble and not taking their eyes off Maritza. Probably, they couldn't be seen.

"As the senior representative of the Goddesses present, only why Lady Cal knows about the shard is of interest to me. Haelstadt bleeds and I can hear a heartbeat, which rules out any form of undeath that Reon would have me exterminate. And Mayon is not, on the whole, interested in investigating every suspicious piece of magic, otherwise we'd be rounding up every healer in existence..."

Fleuri Jodeau

The mercenaries finally broke under the knights' assault, fleeing into the woods. The Iron Roses were victorious once again. With the darkening sky and the unknown question of what lay deeper in the woods, they wouldn't be able to pursue, but like he had noted before, the deaths of the Golden Boars weren't their objective. Either way, however, between their attempted infiltration of the fort, their attempt to kidnap a noble, and their attempt to kill several Iron Roses, they won't be welcome anywhere in Thaln anymore.

The next step would be to attend to the wounded, but it seemed that their order's attached healer, a boy named Martin, had already attended to that and retrieved Haelstadt's head. Seeing the headless knight becoming whole again gave Fleuri some concern. If they were to go up against something like that, he didn't think they had no way of putting them down. Between the necromancer in the tomb, the shard that could drive an entire garrison mad, and now with this, Fleuri was becoming increasingly worried that there were some foes in Thaln that the Iron Roses might lack the necessary skills and expertise to deal with.

Fleuri looked at Veileena, who was now being questioned by the other knights. They were entirely justified in doing so- it was the Iron Roses' duty as servants of the crown to find out whatever they could about this dangerous shard of a literal doomsday weapon. But, hypothetically, if Veileena got tired of the knights and decided to sic her undying bodyguard on them, Fleuri didn't think they'd be able to slay Haelstadt. They could probably win such a fight since it was evident that Veileena's mute black knight wasn't invulnerable, but Fleuri didn't like not knowing the full limits of such magic that could make someone able to keep someone alive even without a head.

"I'm fine, no wounds," Fleuri replied to Gerard's query. The perceptive former mercenary might note that Fleuri's tone was a bit worried, but the reason for his worry would not be evident.

The knight didn't participate in the questioning of Veileena or pester the Captain with his concerns, but stood back and looked around at the bodies of the fallen, hoping to find a fallen Golden Boar who was still breathing. He'd have to put his worries about the Order's capabilities into the back of his mind for now, because the situation at hand demanded that they keep their attention focused, in some way or form, on the very dire matter of the shard.

@HereComesTheSnow

Fanilly lowered her blade.

The boars had vanished entirely, just as swiftly as they had appeared. Their numbers had been crushed, and they no longer had the advantage of an ambush. Needless to say, they would not be back soon.

Unfortunately, simply defeating them in battle did not answer the many questions circulating in the knight-captain's mind. Just what was going on here? Whoever had hired the Golden Boars had ordered the mercenaries specifically to target Lady Cal.

"... Search the fallen. If there are any who yet live, detain them for questioning," the blonde knight paused for a moment, hesitating, "... And if they are not long for this world..."

She took a deep breath.

"... Ease their suffering, but not before learning what they know."

They needed information, and these were ruthless mercenaries, but at the same time leaving them to die slowly if they had not been killed outright was unnecessarily cruel.

The Iron Rose Knights were a just order, and those who dedicated themselves to justice could not allow suffering to occur without cause, if they could help it. At the very least, this was the ideal held in Fanilly's mind.

As for Lady Cal...

Martiza had attempted to question her over Haelstadt? For that matter, Haelstadt had their head returned to them, and was now standing behind the young girl and seemingly staring directly at the naga knight.

Fanilly had no idea what to make of Haelstadt. She felt that, had Haelstadt been an ordinary, mortal being, she would have failed to guarantee an ally's survival. The only reason they were still alive was because of something she couldn't possibly have known about.

That made it a failure, no matter the circumstances.

But more pressingly...

What was Haelstadt? How did someone survive being beheaded so? Most undead couldn't survive being beheaded like that.

"The crown?" scoffed Veileena, eyes narrowed, "Fine. I'll inform them exactly what I was doing. And I'll tell them everything I did was in service of this country. I'm plenty used to people judging me by the actions of that bastard. I won't be threatened, snake woman."

The young girl seemed to be quite incensed by what she perceived as a threat.

"Lady Cal?" Fanilly called. She had to try and defuse the situation as best she could, to try and get Veileena's cooperation once again. She was their only clear lead, "Surely you must understand, none of us have ever seen anyone like Haelstadt, short of Dame Tyaethe, perhaps."

"Hmph," insisted the grey-haired girl, "I don't know why I should give you an answer after I've been threatened. Apparently I'm supposed to speak to the crown now instead."

"This... this isn't helping!" Fanilly called to the young girl, who huffed again.

"Then perhaps I deserve an apology, if you want me to answer any more questions."

Was... this real? After all that, now she wasn't going to cooperate because of this?

Among the fallen Boars, a large made with wild red hair was still breathing. Given the considerable hole punched through his armor, it was unlikely he would be alive much longer, but perhaps if he was questioned he would be willing to talk.

As for Sir Gerard...

As the stinging sensation ran through his body, the pain impossible to ignore, a voice that would sound somewhat familiar would drift through his mind. It would not, perhaps, be immediately recognizable, but if he thought back to the catacombs, then maybe...

My, does it hurt?

It said nothing else. In fact, was it even real? And yet...

@Raineh Daze@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow@Martian@A Lowly Wretch@JessieTargaryen@FlappyTheSpybot@ghastlyinc

She gave a shrug at that, "I haven't met anyone that would walk around without their head on their own accord. But the best healers can pull off something like that for a little while. With proper rituals and a strong enough mage, I guess you could keep it going for longer."

And Veileena was something of a prodigy there... with all the negative attention that the daughter of a traitor tended to get for magical excellence. Still, she had the power and her family did have some history of mages in general, so if they had something like that rattling around, it wouldn't be the most surprising thing, and they were standing in holy ground without the paladin (or the knights in general) being given any signal to do something, so that ought to rule out any sort of undeath or slavery.

With enough preparation, too, magical effects that would be nearly impossible to sustain as a constant spell (or even annoying to do so) could be maintained with much less effort, even if they might still need input sometimes. Enchanted items tended to be the obvious example--it wasn't like Tyaethe's sword had gotten any heavier in the last two centuries.

Sir Kherun Zeydria

It was shortly after the call for Reon, during which time Kherun wanted to call out for Mayon, that the Boars called for a retreat. The young white-haired knight was prepared to cheer in victory for his first battle, but was interrupted by a mercenary trying to land one last blow. Luckily, Kherun noticed it is time to deflect the heavy sword. Instead of hitting his neck, the blade struck hard against the plate mail over his right arm. The force of the blow caused Kherun to drop his sword, as a great pain started in his arm.

But Kherun recovered quickly, pushing back the mercenary with the staff in his other hand. As he pushed back the mercenary, Kherun quickly knelt down to pick up his sword again. But by the time that the knight was standing again, the mercenary had fled into the tree line. Kherun breathed heavily as the pain in his arm throbbed. The young knight hoped that nothing was broken and that instead it was just a nasty bruise.

Kherun then looked over the battlefield, praying that no fellow knight had fallen in the conflict. Luckily it seemed that only the mercenaries were littering the ground. But what was interesting was that the beheaded man still stood. And even more interesting was a young man handing him back his head.

Kherun only looked away from the walking corpse when the Knight-Captain ordered her knights to end the suffering of the injured. Kherun was immediately mortified by this prospect, but he was also conflicted as he knew to obey all of the Captain’s orders. With a gulp, Kherun began surveying the field. After a few minutes, Kherun was pleased to see that everyone he had seen had already passed away. That was until Kherun heard some mutterings.

The young knight turned to see a mercenary lying on his back, bleeding from several wounds. Immediately Kherun inspected him to see if his druidic magic could save him. But as he saw how fast he was bleeding, Kherun knew he was a goner. Fanilly had ordered to them to try and get information from the wounded, but it was clear to Kherun that this man could not form sentences anymore.

“I am sorry,” said Kherun as he raised his sword, “May Mayon guide you to the afterlife.”

With nervous force, Kherun drove the sword through the man’s heart, ending his pain instantly. The young knight breathed heavily as he removed the sword, now coated in the blood of the dead man. As Kherun stood still, his horse Wedge approached him, as did the owl Watcher fly down to him. As a druid, Kherun had a link to both animals, and they could tell that he was troubled.

Watcher landed on Kherun’s shoulder as he led his horse back toward the other knights. As he neared the Knight-Captain, Kherun made sure to stand up straight, sheathing his sword, and grasping his wooden staff securely.

“I am afraid we haven’t had a proper introduction Knight-Captain,” said the white-haired knight as he walked up to Fanilly, “My name is Sir Kherun Zeydria, junior knight of the Iron Rose. And these are my familiars, Wedge and Watcher.”

At the mention of them, Wedge neighed and Watcher hooted. Somehow the animals seemed able to sense that this was an important meeting for Kherun. True enough, nerves shot up and down Kherun’s body as he met the legendary Fanilly Danballion. As he awaited a reply, Kherun kept telling himself in his mind to not screw this up.

@VitaVitaAR