Erich Cazt.

It had been early in Thaln's history when a monstrous demon had, for reasons beyond human understanding, chose to become the country's enemy. Perhaps it was his own amusement. Torture. Murder. Brutality. That was the demon's delight.

Erich Cazt stood and challenged him.

Erich Cazt defeated him.

He broke the demon, slew his body, and sent his spirit fleeing from the gates of Aimlenn, in terror.

And now the Demonbreaker was their enemy. His body, yes, but it was the corpse of a hero nonetheless. He had cast Dame Serenity with ease, and now stood in combat with Sir Gerard.

Fanilly had to catch her breath. She had to steady herself. It was one blow after another. First that monstrous undead, now a fallen her turned into a weapon. A legend made into a tool for a necromancer.

And yet alongside the fear, anger burned in her heart. To take the body of a man who had done so much for their country and its people, to use it as nothing more then a puppet to defend himself. The true Erich Cazt would never have stood for such a thing.

Her grip on her blade tightened.

The necromancer was the true target. Not only that, but with his defeat, so to would fall all of the undead he had created.

But Erich was bearing down on Sir Gerard. That blade gleaming as it was readied to strike once more.

Fanilly was already in motion. With the necromancer shielded, that meant that the danger one of her knights was in was far higher in priority.

She was certain that her attack wouldn't kill. This wasn't Jeremiah. The undead felt neither pain, nor concern for their own wellbeing.

But if she could find a gap...!

Fanilly skidded to a halt beside Erich, twisting her body and thrusting her blade upwards with both hands. Her aim was to slip it beneath his arm as he swung, thrusting into a gap in his armor, piercing his arm, and disrupting his swing. She knew it wouldn't do enough damage to impact the undead in any considerable way, but if she could stop his blow then Sir Gerard would have a moment or two to follow up!

The Necromancer simply smirked. Erich Cazt was a legend. Even without his capacity as a mage restored, his skill as a warrior was more than enough.

This was a dangerous time for him, but he hardly cared what happened to anyone else in the mausoleum, as long as he survived. His barrier, and his hostage, would make him no easy target.

But his smirk faltered when he saw the figure that had appeared on the opposite end of the room.

Gripping a basket of nuts, having spoken in a sultry, yet casual tone, was the slim figure of a girl, not too different in height(or perhaps slightly shorter) than the knight-captain. Her features were slight, perhaps endearing to some, but the horns that curled form her head and the black that surrounded her orange irises were enough to indicate her true nature even without taking into account the redness of her skin. If not for her demonic nature, the fact the clothing she was wearing was too large for her and far more masculine then one would expect would be comical.

It was the same clothing one of the Necromancer's conspirators had been wearing.

"Y-you..." he spoke, eyes widening, "... Were you inside that gem then? Hah, well, you'll have to get past the Demonbreaker too, if you want to challenge me."

Fierense ducked low, sprinting to the side, lightning trailing in her wake as she did. The arrows, aimed as they were ,careening towards her, were suddenly tilted just off-course, towards the trail of electricity behind her as opposed to the witch herself. It was likely arrows that had not been infused with Shael's power could be drawn away from their target in a similar manner.

"Is that so? I thought it was a compliment, you know," responded the witch, cocking her head, "A divine spirit is a divine spirit all the same."

Lighting tore from her fingertips, towards the archer knight, but it seemed oddly unfocused. Almost as if Fierense didn't particularly care if her blow struck or not, in spite of her prior behavior.

But it would definitely make it harder to shoot back.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@ERode

---

With the elder princess left to see the various relics in Candaeln's halls and guarded by both Iron Rose Knights and Crown Knights alike, it was likely she would be a difficult target even if there was another assassin or wicked spirit that figured out where she had gone.

Princess Maletha smiled slightly when Sir Fionn patted her head, before slowly following Tyaethe out of the room.

When they arrived at the room, well...

It was difficult to say what the Second Princess expected from a legendary knight's room. But it probably wasn't this, judging by the way in which her eyes widened slightly. Then again, she perceived that knight as a child like herself, so perhaps it was the presence of the more knightly aspects that had surprised her instead?

It was impossible to say.

But when she was introduced to Elei, she approached the theoretically-a-rabbit stuffed to, clutching Thrinax to her chest as she did.

She took one of the stuffed dragon's forelimbs in her hand, and raised it, slowly making it wave back and forth as if in greeting.

@Krayzikk@The Otter@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze

@Raineh Daze@ERode@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow@PigeonOfAstora

---

"Ahaha, she thinks rather highly of herself." Cecil smiled nonchalantly, ignoring Shaels protesting about being much stronger then a lesser spirit. She had to keep moving, though, as the arrows were drawn off course in that moment of brief banter Cecil quickly pivoted, ducking low and rolling along the ground and quickly getting back to a knee. Interesting, okay. She could likely draw her arrows in with that magic of hers. She'd have to enchant them to even have a chance at hitting this lady.

It was a shame she had such little mobility here, on top of that the flow of wind down here was terrible.

"Whew, almost thought I'd have to be a little faster." She'd question, talking fast and thinking even faster. "But that's fine, I don't particularly wanna take this whole dirty business seriously either." Two arrows knocked, but instead of a straight shot, Cecil arced the bow to the side as she'd fire. One arrow, carried by a fast moving wind in a long arc towards the woman from her right, while a second did a similar to her left in a pincer.

Fleuri Jodeau

The Barukstaedian warrior was finally defeated. He had been a difficult foe, bested only through the cooperation of the three knights. It was a shame that such talent was wasted working for these treasonous conspirators. The warrior wasn't done yet, though- he still had enough left him him for some dying words, asking for the names of those who defeated him. He also gave them a name- Alfrid Stormcaller. If he had to guess, it was that the warrior was a mercenary, fighting to obtain either a glorious victory or a glorious death, and make some money in the process.

"Sir Fleuri Jodeau, of House Jodeau, of the Iron Roses," he introduced himself, bowing and sheathing Candlestick. "I can't approve of your choice of employers, but you were a most worthy foe."

His voiced displeasure with the conspirators was a gross understatement, but there was no need to bring it up to a dying man. There was no harm in a bit of reverent tact for this man's final mortal moments.

@Conscripts@Creative Chaos

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@PigeonOfAstora@ERode@Raineh Daze

The clanging report was as though the grand bells of Aimlenn's chapel, rung to herald the day's passage— and beneath it, Gerard could feel old bones creak, maybe even give. A good hit to be certain, better than he would have dared imagine sinking into the Hero in his life—

Yet, inevitably, the armor fell away as the gleaming titan pivoted off the impact, finally having wrenched his blade free and bringing it to bear. The revived had no need for air, felt no pain, weren't traumatized by the shock rippling through their innards the way the living foes Gerard had faced until this point were. Techniques developed to maim and kill common soldiers were doubtlessly useful, rooted in universal principle— but it was a sure fool who expected them to work in full on one well past being killed. He had known as much going in.

Backhanded swing of the Demonbreaker. Propelled by the rotational velocity of Cazt's pivot away from the prior strike, it didn't waste motion. His skills were alive in there. However—

Gerard was close, necessary for the shorter Dawn's Break. There was less leverage the old knight could bring to bear for a cut, even with the space he'd created by his backward step. The arc of danger for the longsword, sharp as a razor even now, was as broad as the summer's day, but a sword's ricasso was never the ideal cutting edge— dulled by its lower velocity.

Erich's reflexes were surely there, in fairness, but a flash of blonde and blue appeared in the periphery, a streak of steel erupting from below less than a blink later. The Captain, repeating her thrust into the armpit from their fight against Jeremiah. It would find no lethal artery.

Yet it would jam the shoulder joint within Cazt's kinetic chain. Even if he somehow bypassed the well-forged steel lodged within, that would further slow his blade. A fraction of a second window becomes multiple. Strength that cracked mountains, speed that baffled demonkind, danger that lived centuries past the mortal life—

There would be no other opportunity like this, where he was nearer to human.

He could not think and waste any time. When opportunity struck, it was to be seized. Technically he could egress with this much— An idea immediately blown away by action, and instinct.

How did Serenity do it, that spar?

Gerard stepped forward and in, mirroring the undead's rotation to maintain the dominant angle.

His mace arm extended up, bringing the sturdy, blessed steel haft of Dawn's break to bear against Cazt's sword. The Demonbreaker was sharp enough to hew stone, yes. But enchanted weaponry was storied for exceeding the robustness of the materials they were forged from. Between this, and all the factors that would slow and dull the stroke, it was a worthy gamble.

He wouldn't go arm for arm against a massive foe, and waste this motion.

Almost simultaneously, the sturdy shield in his left hand slammed, as though a battering ram, against the shining revebrace, just behind the opponent's elbow. Blocking the arm's extension with a physical barrier, threatening hyperextension— the latter likely not a concern, but the former all-important.

He wouldn't go weapon for weapon against such a legend, none of them should have. However, if he could take it away..!

Shifting the haft of his mace in his grip, Segremors swiftly brought the butt of Dawn's Break forward, a shower of sparks casdcading forth— and hooked the crossguard from behind.

With a wrench of the hips, his whole body weight twisted, forcing the shield forth and down while the blade was yanked up— all of the force he could muster matched against Cazt's one hand. A bare fraction of a long-dead hero, versus the full, living physicality of a lifetime farmer, then mercenary, and one day proper knight.

A gamble borne of daring and desperation, propelled by the sudden, violent seizure of the moment's window the Knight-Captain had bought him.

If it paid off, it would rip the sword from the goliath's grasp.

If he considered it not paying off, fear would have taken the moment, and it'd be lost for sure.

---

Steffen proceeded down the mausoleum, noticing the ceiling of the structure beginning to get lower and lower and also hearing the clash of metals beneath him. His worries grew gradually with every steps deeper into the structure. His concern for the kind of claustrophobic fight overtaken by the same feeling for his allies. Even just the Barukstaedian alone already proved quite a tough opponent requiring a strong response from three knights, who knows what they had down there, having only five individuals around to fend off. It could be that this was their strongest card and they intended to play it first, but he somehow doubted it. Maybe it was just his tendencies to over-worry things, but it's also wise to keep expectations low.

Not long after, the towering Ingvarr arrived at the heat of the action, the battle reaching its apex. And he wasn't the only gigantic figure in the fight. For a man well-read on the history and culture of the southern land he had come to call home, a glance over this opponent's armor already told him that his opponent was the legendary Erich Cazt, now defiled and forced to do the bidding of the necromancer that is hiding behind the barrier. What was left of the hero was still quite a force to be reckoned with, seeing how Gerard was trying his hardest to find an edge, along with the other knights making do with their chosen weapons. Steffen's first instinct would have been to go straight for him and alleviate the pressure Gerard and Fanilly was under. But instincts should not override reasons, at least not in this case, when there were more variables in this chamber:

There was the barrier that helped cower one of the perpetrators, and the hostage with them.

There was Erich.

There were multiple undeads in the room with him.

His allies mostly engaged, Serenity seemingly recovering from an attack he did not see earlier.

And the last and perhaps most confusing one: the red-skinned horned lady. Who even is this? Friend or foe?

Steffen decided not to take any particular actions yet, not when he was unsure of the situation at hands, and his fellow knights, as much as they had their difficulties, were not in immediate danger. But that could change any seconds now.

"The axe man is done." He looked upon Serenity, stern and having his newly acquired battle axe at the ready. "Quickly, what is the situation?"

@ERode

A moment before it was too late, Serenity realized her misjudgment. The strong shadows cast by the lightning witch’s spellwork made her gauge the height of the ceiling incorrectly; there was no room to leap over the ancient knight, and it was only with some fortune that the shockwave of his sword swing struck before his sword did. A blast of force sent her back, slamming into an unfortunate undead. She rolled with the impact, her mace driving a hole through the skull of another.

Skull fragments scattered against the floor, matching the tempo of the crunching of nuts, the arrival of Sir Steffen. Help and harm came in equal measure, and that battle axe could do what she could not.

“Ignore the demon and the witch. Break the barrier. Save the girl.”

Fanilly’s blade pierced into the gaps of Erich’s armor, Gerard putting his everything to disarm the Demonbreaker’s sword. The shield arm was left unchecked though, and Serenity could spare no more time catching Steffen up to speed.

She too ran, a golden shadow amidst the disorderly hordes. Shooting to Erich’s other side, Serenity brought back her mace and swung for the stained legend’s skull, following up one beat later with a second swing from her hatchet. Two blows in sequence, to keep the shield occupied long enough for Gerard to finish or to crack open his head Erich would expose his flank in order to protect his ewpon. Either was good, and neither was fine. Because if Sir Steffen was there, then soon Sir Fleuri and Sir Vier would arrive too, and the tides of battle truly would shift.

In the absence of proper gear and optimal conditions, in the absence of heroes and paladins, numbers alone would still make the difference.

As Fionn and Nicomede returned, Renar briefly noted that they only had one additional knight in tow. Between the three of them, they'd roped in double their original number as reinforcements. That was fine. He hadn't been expecting too many to be available on a moment's notice at this hour of the night.

"A half dozen will be enough. The Knight-Captain deployed with about the same number." Renar nodded to Fionn's inquiry before moving to a chestnut rouncey. He didn't recognize this particular one, but that was a moot point. At this hour of the night, it didn't particularly matter which steed he took. It would be returned before dawn without its owner ever knowing.

"Saddle up. Speed is of the essence here. We make through the city, toward the Cazt tombs. Slow for nothing. It may make the difference between arriving as timely reinforcements or arriving to put down the freshly raised." He made sure his poleaxe was strapped snugly to his back before cracking the reins on his borrowed steed.

Once everyone was mounted atop their horses, Renar led the charge, steadily speeding his steed up to a full gallop as they started making their way through the city streets. The distance to the crypts was short enough that they didn't need to ration the horses' stamina, and even if it had been necessary, they were still on a short timeframe regardless.

@The Otter @Krayzikk

Lein

---

Location: The Cazt Mausoleum
Interactions: @Rune_Alchemist@Raineh Daze@ERode@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow@Conscripts

---

The Demonbreaker simply shrugging off Lein's attacks were disappointing, but an unsurprising confirmation of the necromancer's boast. It barely even reacted to arrows, barely reacting to even attacks that slipped through the plating. But as strong as that Cazt ghoul was, it was hardly the problem. They had the numbers, and the mace alone did significant damage to the plate armor. Not a whole lot, but still something noticeable. And with backup already arriving and no other way to escape apart from the exit they had just come through,

No, the real problem was two-fold. The first was that this necromancer still holding the hostage. That Nem girl, however Lein disagreed with the decision of coming down into the necromancer's den to simply rescue the assassin's sister, remained their objective. If the necromancer was to recognize the dire situation past his apparent ego, he could always threaten the hostage and force a stand-down of at least the honorable among them. Not good.

The second was the crux of the problem - that they did not know what the problem was. He could put a little less faith into the conspiratorial capabilities of his enemies, but Lein couldn't help but wonder if there was a larger trick at play. The lightning witch was aligned with the necromancer. Perhaps the man with the axe, and the large ghoul as well. But what was up with this 'demon'? Clearly, the necromancer was neither aware nor was happy to see the demon girl. If Serenity was right, that meant neither the vampire nor the man behind the tentacle monstrosity was on his side. And she was clearly disinterested in helping out. So why stall for time for the necromancer, without his knowledge, and not help him when it truly counted? And was the necromancer this stupid to corner himself in the mausoleum against an inevitable army of knights?

Were they playing against the necromancer or someone else?

Lein took half a step to avoid a stumbling blow from a ghoul, looking past the foul militia to keep an eye trained on both the necromancer and the lightning witch. He struggled to connect the dots while having to juggle the immediate danger of the slashing steel that threatened to cut his head loose, and the inevitable danger that Lein could barely make out the outlines. An arrow nailed the skeleton's rotting knee to the ground, Lein ducking past the mace as tumbled to the ground and swinging out further into the chamber. He was in a wide angle now, putting him far from his hardier companions. Dangerous for him, but it kept him out of the way. Out of attention.

If Lein couldn't sort out what was going on, the easiest solution was simply to cut the players down. From behind the wall of skeletons that churned in front of him, Lein hurled a bag of flour in the direction of the witch and the necromancer's barrier, following each of them up with an arrow to cut the bundle loose just before impact. Screen them off - keep them from noticing the deck getting stacked.

The lightning dissipated when the Witch took note of the arrows hurtling towards her on either side. This time, she couldn't draw them away with whatever manner of spell it was, so she was forced to move, leaping back, darting out of their trajectory as swiftly as possible, one hand on her head to keep her hat in place.

And yet, her attentions seemed to be drifting elsewhere. Indeed, aside from keeping on her toes, Fierense's target had ceased to be the archer knight at all.

Instead, it seemed, now that she had positioned herself further back in the room, her eyes were falling on the barrier around the necromancer and his hostage.

Before anything else could happen, though, a bag of flour hurtling her way took her off-guard. While she was able to jump out of its direct trajectory, the fact it ruptured only a meter or two ahead of her still made for a somewhat more difficult situation.

"Tch, trying to make it even harder for me?" she complained with a sigh, electricity crackling around her once more, "Fine, I've still got a clear shot."

She was raising her arm again, lightning flowing along it. This time, she wasn't aiming in Cecilia's direction. She was aiming past the undead, around the swarm, directly towards the side of the barrier, through the cloud of flour.

It wasn't as if it was going to move.

She didn't have to see it. She knew it was going to hit.

All she had to do was-

Fierense's gaze fell upon a knight that had just arrived.

He was an ingvarr, that much was obvious to her. That alone wasn't anything of note.

No, it was the axe he gripped in his hands.

The air was vibrating, now. The cloud of flour in the air began to burn, catching fire, as lightning crackling across Fierense's body, carrying her hair into the air. As she turned to face the knights, the scattered armor from fallen undead began to vibrate, too, rattling across the ground.

There was fury in her eyes.

"It wasn't enough to kill him, was it?" she asked, "I knew it. I knew it all along. I knew that bastard would send him to his death. But that wasn't enough, was it?"

She raised her arm as electricity ran across it, sparking between her fingertips.

"You're a knight, aren't you? You're supposed to be noble, aren't you? Not some kind of damned vulture!"

The flour burned brighter as the lightning witch took aim.

"I'm going to kill you, ingvarr. And anyone who gets in my way."

@Rune_Alchemist@PigeonOfAstora@Conscripts@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos

As predicted, the concerted effort to halt the demonslayer's swing found success--the blade bit into the joint, and the desperate block was successful. Gerard was indeed not cut in half, free to try and disarm the immense figure of his equally huge blade. What he no doubt wasn't expecting was to meet no resistance to leveraging the weapon out of his hand—

—stepping forward even as Erich's free arm raised a shield to block the ambitious strike towards his head—

—and pivoting, outstretched arm wrenching free of the impairing stab, but more alarmingly, being solidly aligned with Gerard's midsection. Gerard, who had fully committed to a shockingly easy disarm, pushing himself entirely within the ancient hero's reach.

As it transpired, Erich's agility was scarcely less alarming than his strength without impediment. More than fast enough to turn Gerard into an impromptu projectile to disrupt Serenity's attempted follow-up, and temporarily limit the attacks from his now-unarmed sword hand. It was intelligence and skill unbecoming of an undead, his shield warding the captain off as the knight dropped to one knee and rose again with sword in hand.

The demon cocked her head, munching some more nuts as the reinforcements started to filter in.

Now dressed, Tyaethe felt her face heat up as she saw what Maletha was doing. Honestly, did the girl...? She was a two centuries old paladin, not a child! Had she gotten confused? But no, that shouldn't be it, she had spent most of the evening as an adult, the girl probably just wanted someone to play with, and it wasn't like any of the other knights would be particularly suited for it. Well, Lilianna had her family, that might be an option... but it was doubtless to late in the night to go and wake her up.

Maybe if the princess came visiting again.

No, for now she would just have to play along, and the vampire climbed onto the bed behind the rabbit, making it wave back. Hmm, was there something else...? Oh, it was just a little rabbit, and this was a mighty dragon. Dragons were very proud creatures, you didn't want to upset them at all if you could help it.

So, she had it bow, too.

---

"Gladly." Steffen nodded before Serenity took off back into her fight. He was to move as well, seeing an opening to the barrier that was only guarded by the undeads that wasn't the Demonbreaker revived, but the witch at the other side of the corner decided otherwise. He were to be the sole target of her wrath. A piece of his heart sank as soon as her hair roses from the electricity conducting naturally through her body. There was a saying - he had forgotten the origins - that if a mage wants someone dead, unless you have something of your own, there is basically nothing one can do about but run. They are quintessential part of an army; death, destruction and chaos coming out of their body sweatless. He did not expect to be caught in the receiving end of that phrase, and for what? This axe?!

As for running...

"Alfrid is a great warrior. And a great warrior's weapon belongs on the battlefield, not a casket." Steffen's hand reaching up for the shield behind his back, his other hand gripping on the axe shifted to the rear end of the pole. There is no running. He couldn't bring himself to run from a battle. Not anymore. "But fine. Honor him your way!" With a side-swing, Steffen threw the two-handed axe away from him.

The weapon was clumsy and not meant to be thrown, and so it landed in the middle of the room.

"Now do what you must, if you feel like that would ease your grief."

Both his arms were open, but he was walking forward. And his eyes. It wasn't one who seemed willing to back off from this fight. And he wouldn't. If the witch were ever to fire her magic, Steffen would immediately snap off of his stance to toss the small shield in front of him, hoping that metallic object will absorb the lightning rather than him for a few seconds necessary for him to dash towards Erich, or rather remain in sight obstruction of him, using the undead to deter another lightning strike.

@VitaVitaAR

"Evening, Tuono."

The chestnut palfrey snorted his opinion of the hour. Whatever ambivalence Nicomede might have felt about the change in their circumstances, he felt it was nothing but their due. However patient he had been about their turn in fortune the castle's stables were much more to his liking. Shelter, good feed, and staff to see to his care just like the good days of his youth. Nicomede thought he'd grown just a touch conceited. But the horse had earned it, after their shared exile.

"None of that. We've got work to do." The second snort seemed just as disdainful, but cooperative; he stood still for his tack and saddle, and Nico pulled himself atop with long practice. Whatever his complaint about the hour Tuono had been the steed of an heir, once, and he hadn't forgotten. Nicomede guided him to the group with the smooth amble characteristic of his descent, patiently waiting for the other riders. But when all were ready he took off in a gallop like his namesake, a thundering charge that challenged any of his peers to meet the pace.

That was Tuono's thought, such as it was for the proud animal. Nicomede's thoughts had already turned toward the fight ahead, holding his lantern extended ahead at his left to better see into the night.

@Psyker Landshark @The Otter

She'd stopped the Demonbreaker's swing! It was all she'd been asking for, in the moment, to prevent it from making contact and cutting through Sir Gerard's body.

Unfortunately, Fanilly couldn't stop what happened next, unable to do much more then watch as that shield deflected a blow from Dame Serenity before the undead hero's hand was used to send Gerard hurtling back. It was doubtlessly a better outcome then being cut apart, but it didn't change the fact that there was very little that Fanilly could do to stop it.

Already the shield was swinging into position, swiftly enough that she couldn't try and follow up. Even though Erich Cazt was undead, he still possessed such power and agility, far beyond the near-skeletal rabble that shambled about the room.

But she had to do something.

Fanilly had to try and ensure this ended, to save the hostage, to-

The axe landed on the floor with a heavy clank.

The air was still vibrating, glowing lines of light shining beneath Fierense's clothing as lightning crackled from her fingertips.

But the witch faltered.

It was only a moment before she spoke once more.

"... I don't forgive you."

But even as she spoke, the Lightning Witch turned on the spot, her crackling arm now pointed squarely at the barrier surrounding the necromancer and his hostage. As the flashing light grew, swirling, sparking with magic energy and electricity, it spread out from her palm, swelling with power. The building light was growing larger and larger, brighter and brighter, and then with a sound like a roll of thunder it was unleashed, and-

-Before Fanilly's eyes, the barrier cracked and shattered. There had been a spectacular flash of light coming from the right side of the room, and then the sound of shattered glass, and then it was coming apart. The fragments scattering into the air, cracking, dissipating into nothinginess, the necromancer's shocked gaze turning towards the source of the light...

Fanilly was already running, as the lesser undead began to surge towards the necromancer.

"Cecilia!" she called out. Of the two archers, Dame Cecilia had the better vantage point as far as she should tell. No clearer orders needed to be given.

The necromancer was no longer untouchable, after all.

Fierense lowered her arm, the lights beneath her clothing fading.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@ERode@PigeonOfAstora@Conscripts@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos

---

After cleaning and sheathing his remaining blade, Vier wrenched his shoulder into place, stumbling from the shock to his nerves. He turned to the axe wielder, swaying a bit. This could’ve been so much worse. I don’t doubt it for a second. If I had dueled him, I’d be dead. His fellow Roses were the only reason he was still standing. And internally, he was forever grateful for the help he had received.

The red haired man didn’t bother to check the damage, he knew what the result would be. His heart finally began to slow down, as he watched their opponent clutch his wounds. Vier knew it was over, but he heard the man, Alfrid, begin speaking. Vier wasn’t really one for honor, but he respected a man’s right to speak his last words. Despite himself, he smirked slightly at the words of praise, and moved a bit closer.

”My name is Vier Alma. It was a challenging time fighting against you.” Vier simply left Flueri and Alfrid to their own devices, and went to retrieve his other blade, wincing at the movement of his shoulder. Definitely something that he would need to give a more thorough look at, in case he had somehow cracked the joint or set it back improperly in his haste. He knew he needed both hands to hold his own, especially without his longsword and armor.

Steffen’s concern was mostly warranted in Vier’s eyes, but it was a lesser issue compared to the fact that their compatriots still hadn’t come back from below. Whatever was happening down there had to be of great importance, considering there were five of them down there. Okay, this is definitely a very dangerous situation. So no fooling around, Alma. While Steffen went down to the lower levels, Vier quickly checked his twin blades for any nicks and folds in their edges, or stress lines in the middle. Nothing too worrying in the present moment, but enough for him to run reinforcement magic through them before he went down.

As he walked down, he saw a…rather confusing scene. First, there were an alarming amount of undead, which was a problem that seemed to be dwindling away. Then, there was the necromancer and a hostage behind a magical barrier: definitely a top priority. Then Vier noticed a woman pointing lightning at Steffen from the far end of the room, which was surprisingly not the scariest thing in the chamber. That honor went to what seemed like the corpse of Erich Cazt, the Demonbreaker. Fanilly and Gerard seemed to have a good handle on the situation, so he tore his eyes away and attempted to slowly sneak around to the necromancer amidst the chaos, layering sharpening magic on top of the reinforcement magic as a way to try breaking the barrier on his own.

But there was no need. The witch did the work for them, and shattered the necromancer’s barrier with a bolt of lightning. An unexpected development, but not at all unwelcome. Vier heard their captain give Lady Cecilia an order, and decided to capitalize on his own sudden arrival, waiting for an opportunity to surprise the necromancer with a strike from both blades if Cecilia didn’t do it for him.

The hero lived up to his legend, decayed and disgraced as he was.

An apex of humanity from a bygone era, one that possessed strength enough to one-handedly hurl Gerard towards her with such force that she hardly had time to think. Time, diluting further. Air, bursting through her veins. Heart, racing double-time.

She jumped back.

Two hands opened, weapons dropped as the knight’s form slammed against her own. The lioness found purchase in that moment, one hand grasping his collar, the other his belt. What was the point of training if she couldn’t do it in real-time? What was the point of mastery if she could not apply it beyond its usage? What was the point of study if that did not expand her options?

When the plainsfolk of Velt besieged fortresses of stone, the scarcity of wood in their homelands called for solutions of another sort. In the absence of trebuchets and catapults, the strongmen of that era would grasp great slings loaded with boulders, spinning them round and round to building up momentum. Would release at the peak that their bodies could bear, sending stone to strike fortifications two hundred paces away.

They called it a hammer throw.

One foot landed, a pivot finding purchase against stone. Her body twisted, forcing Gerard’s body away from her own. Shoulders stood strong, fingers gripped like a vice. Lightning sparked, both in her mind and out her mind. Second foot landed, granting more stability now, keeping her balance. With the initial force of Erich’s own throw, there was no need for a full rotation. All she had to do was add her own strength to existing momentum, use her own strength to resist the building inertia, and!

The barrier shattered.

The Captain disengaged.

Serenity released.

And Gerard flew, a boulder to test a fortress.

---

@Psyker Landshark@VitaVitaAR@Krayzikk

---

With a small amount of surprise, Fionn nodded at the other knight that came walking up behind them. He hadn't really been expecting anybody to follow him in particular, rather that they'd all elect to see to securing the keep and the princesses within. Overkill, certainly, but no one would be brave enough to suggest it was too much for the future ruler of the kingdom and her younger sister. Seeing that it was the same knight from his hall that immediately got down to brass tacks trying to figure out what was happening, however, wasn't so surprising. It only made sense that the first one to ask after what was going on would be the one to join the goings-on.

"Aye," he muttered at Renar's words, glancing over the horses in the stable. He could recognize his own not far away, as well as some others that he generally liked from among those kept for common use. Precious few were already saddled and ready to go, the stablehands roused at Renar's arrival having gone as quickly as they could. Not that it mattered much, given that all they were doing was riding; beyond that, Fionn wasn't the sort to fight from horseback anyways, and he was still getting used to a saddle. He waved the last night on at the last horse that was already saddled; another had bridle and reins, but nothing more than a blanket atop the back and withers.

He stepped forward, grasping reins and mane both, and swung himself atop the animal. "No time for that, lad!" he said to one of the stablehands rushing up carrying a saddle, waving them out of the way before the horses took off from their stalls and thundered out into the night, falling into place beside Renar and just behind Nico's lead. He was somewhat glad for the darkness of night as they rode—no doubt Renar would be bothered at the sight later, given that just as much as Fionn would propose extra tricks and techniques his way for sword fighting, Renar was often trying to get Fionn to be a better, more proper rider. Cavalry work. Bareback riding was not entirely conducive to the way mounted knights fought.

Not that Fionn had any illusions of using a horse for the purpose of being anything more than mobile infantry, of course, but it was good to humour his friend. Even if only because it might buy him some extra leeway if he ever found himself chiding the man like the day before. Rather than think too long on how Renar might react to his riding later, though, he looked out, peering into the darkness as much as he was able with the starlight and Nicomede's lantern. "How far is the mausoleum from Candaeln, anyways?"

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@PigeonOfAstora@ERode@Raineh Daze

Easy, said the mechanical advantage he'd imposed upon the hero of old, proving itself capable of even bridging this gulf in strength, that between one who had reached the pinnacle and one who had just begun to climb the slope. The clanging resounded through the chamber as the sword was wrenched free of Cazt's grip, falling to the earth, opening the path to press in, nullifying half the threat—

"!"

Too easy, you idiot, said the sudden force that wrenched the bottom edge of his cuirass up and forward— an acceleration so sudden and sharp that it could only ever take him with it. Vertigo flooded his veins, sweeping through his body as he was sent sailing like a tossed stone. His commitment to the bit, as it were. For all his snap judgements and opportunism bore in the boon of a dropped sword, the inevitable end of his ilk had come— overextension. Capitalization by the enemy. Had he the presence of mind, or perhaps better schooling, he'd have rankled at the blunder.

Gerard, instead, busied himself with trying to right the ship, and realign which direction was which. He craned his neck up, casting his vision afore to his imminent destination—

Time slowed, as he beheld the leonine knight fading from the space he'd just sailed into. Her arms were outstretched, weaponry yet to touch the stone below. She had him. A blessing for her sharp eyes and snap judgements, turning what would have been a head-on collision that threatened to take the both of them out into a mercifully quick reset.

... But, strangely, her gaze was still pinned on the knight.

He felt grips upon his burly frame again, this time around his collar and belt—

Oh.

And when a second rush of sweeping momentum began to pull upon his body, continuing and redirecting the first instead of arresting it,

That's why. Alright.

He understood.

He drew his frame in tight, allowing as little force to bleed off as possible when he was wrenched around, smoothing the rotation—

And soared again, to the sound of shattering glass and cracking lightning. He drew in his breath as he flew, boulder coated in burning pitch, and noted the fresh storm upon the musty air. As though a smelling salt, it sharpened his eyes, brought his muscles to a springing coil. He hurtled.

This time, his gaze was ready, and his body primed to act. Up ahead, he saw the Captain darting in close to the Necromancer, his once-impenetrable shield diamond dust upon the wind. He saw the undead swarming to intercept her path, securing the fiend's escape. And above them, ahead of them, he saw him.

Erich Cazt. Gleaming. Resplendent. Indomitable. Even in death.

An insurmountable wall.

A fortress unto himself.

In their way.

When you couldn't pass a wall...

Gerard drew Dawn's break back, high, and tight. Over the shoulder, as though an oberhau.

You went through it.

He wrenched his trunk, with nothing to push off of save his own body. In throwing the arms to lead the motion, he cast away the shield in his opposite hand, sending it sailing towards the massive undead. It'd bounce off him in all likelihood, unless he deigned to swat it away. Didn't matter. It'd cover his vision, occupy him for a moment, free Gerard's other arm to draw every last drop of power out of the strike—

And in its wake, brought the second meteor down onto the revenant myth, this falling star a burning sun.

@Raineh Daze@ERode@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow@PigeonOfAstora

---

It wasn't hard to tell that the witch had stopped being interested in the fight the moment her eyes drifted to the barrier. She was almost ready to thank her, but before she could things got...complicated, to say the least. A bag of flour, of all things, came and completely obscured the terrain. Whoever did that really didn't understand that if they couldn't see outside, she couldn't very well see inside the dust cloud either!

She was about 90% sure she could still aim but what a moron!

Bag of flour aside, the witch had already turned targets. From the barrier to Steffen. She wasn't sure what the witch was upset about. The death of that axe wielding man from earlier? She was already knocking an arrow, prepared to put her down the instant she loosed any sort of spell towards Steffen...but more unexpected events.

How tiring.

But the barrier shortly fell. Before even Fanilly had called her name, Cecil was already moving. She knocked the arrow, quickly pivoting on her feet towards the necromancer's direction. Thankfully a fellow knight was already making his way quietly over there.

"Vier! The hostage!" Verdant colored wind danced at the tips of her fingers as she'd draw the bowstring, the arrow wrapped in wind and fury. She could use a Burst arrow - it would certainly put the necromancer to rest...but a high chance of hurting the hostage too. So there was one solution here she could do if she wanted to ensure this was finished quickly and nicely.

"Divine spirit of wind," She exhaled, her pivoting motion finishing as the bowstring was pulled fully back. "hear my plea," Wind enveloped the entire arrow now, a solid form appearing on the arrow. "Peirce the heavens and clouds with divine fury! - Wind Piercer!"

The arrow was loosed, a blade of verdant wind hurtling towards the necromancer.

The man from Barukstaed
@Crimson Paladin

---

"Gahaha...I made...my decision." Alfrid responded to Flueri and Steffen with a strained breath. "Dying at the hands of the Roses...but if you'll hear me out, honorable friends." He held a hand to his quickly bleeding out wound. "There...is a witch. Uses lightning. Do not...drag her into this mess more than I have. She is here entirely...because of me." He sputtered, the strength in his body quickly leaving now as he'd rest against the stone wall. Before Flueri or Steffen could even affirm the request or not, the mans chest would slow in his breathing...until all that was left, was the sound of their own, and the echoes of combat and fighting from further in the tomb.

When the arrow found its home, severing the arm holding the hostage close, there was a moment of stillness. With all the magic that had been thrown around in the mausoleum, there was already a weight pressing down, the feeling of mana unleashed discernible even to those with no magical talent. Even as Serenity redirected Gerard, that ethereal weight seemed to double, or even triple.

The dents and cuts in the ancient armour healed themselves, restoring itself to a parade finish. And now the fortress of a man flowed with a grace and ease not visible seconds before, sword and shield dropping from his hand. It was a burst of speed that couldn't have been anticipated or foreseen as the Demonbreaker stepped out of the path of Gerard's shield, one hand pushing back the strike as the other seized the knight once more—

—And spun, accelerating the knight even further.

Not back at Serenity. Not at Cecilia. Not at the captain, nor any of the numerous other knights that threatened to do something. No, it was straight at the necromancer himself, threading a path between the seemingly-dazed zombies and over the head of the still-close hostage.

A voice echoed through Gerard's skull, deep and resonant, more thought than sound. Finish this.

The knight was released once more; the ancient hero's cape drifting to a stop behind him. Still. Perfectly still, without a hint of movement. The unearthly weight was gone.