---

The climb hadn't been particularly easy by any stretch, even without a Niyar trying to hinder him. The weight of the mud that gradually grew to cake his arms and front made it more difficult with every foot gained; but between his strength and his indomitable stubbornness, he climbed upward all the same, cresting the peak in that section just barely devoid of the conflagration that rapidly finished engulfing the rest after he stood. Through the fire and flames he caught Gisela's glance as she looked his way, a distinctly unimpressed look—surely it had to be for Aisling, who had disappeared and left him to finish his climb.

He grinned and gave a small wave; as he looked around further, he couldn't see anybody else atop the hill, only Gertrude flying higher above. Gisela called a fog upon them, and once it lifted he could see Gerard and Fleuri at the opposite side, looking as winded from their sprint as he felt from the climb.

He paused for a moment, glanced between them, Gisela, and Gertrude as the rest all started to ascend...a momentary flash of uncertainty across his face, not seen since they'd fought the Golden Boars some nights before.

Finally grinned again, and gave the two he'd originally been ordered to move with another wave. There was no room for uncertainy in Fionn's mind, not after the duel he'd sought had been stolen from him; he'd made it first, and the rest of his assigned squad with him. That was good. Gisela turning and giving Gertrude a dressing down was good as well, for all the trouble it might cause the rest of them; likely the old mage was the only one that their newest would listen to at all, no matter how much she affected disdain and disinterest at her elder's words.

With a mumbled word his hands returned to their proper shape, and with another, the focus and energy just released was transferred—drying the mud caking him in an instant, where it cracked and flaked off with a flex of the muscles and some simple stretching and bending, leaving nothing but dust behind. And an instant later, Gertrude went right back to her previous antics, outwardly disregarding what Gisela had told her...though no doubt the words would stick with her regardless. Fionn stepped forward, placing one hand on Gertrude's shoulder—ready for however much she'd hate it—and looked over to Gisela.

Better he field this one, than the captain have to debase herself for such a fragile ego.

"Give her a bit more credit, Gisela," he cajoled, his usual friendly smile plastered on his features. "She had a better vantage point than any of the rest of us, to see how I was faring with Aisling and how close any of us were to the top—not to mention how little flames like that bother some of us, or that our goal was to get to the top, not reach it and hold it after. She was playing to the rules of the game, smart, like. Can't blame her for that, can you?"

He gave the girl's shoulder a squeeze. Reassuring, at least to anyone else that wasn't such a brat—no reason he couldn't have a little fun with it if he was going to play at her game as well. "Now, Gertrude, that little plan of mine wouldn't have worked at all without your help, and you know it as well as anyone, so it's your victory as much as the rest of ours. Keep it up and show us what you can do when you don't have to hold back as much, eh?"

Fleuri Jodeau

They had made it. Despite facing one last surprise of a bombardment of "friendly" fire courtesy of the witch, Fleuri and Gerard had managed to reach the top. Fionn, too, had evidently managed to scale the hill, seemingly unseen by the Hundi. The only complication was that he had no idea where his dagger had gone, after he had used it to stop one of Gisela's spells. It wasn't exactly irreplaceable, but it would be a slight annoyance to have to continue these trials without it.

Fleuri let out a deep exhale, partially from the exertion of the sprint up the hill, and partially out of relief that this trial was over. Not that he expected to have much of a reprieve- after all, the last trial had been heralded with a spell that had disintegrated Fleuri, and he fully expected the next one to be accompanied by similar theatrics.

The Hundi took a moment to give criticism to Gertrude for her ill-conceived fire bombardment. Fleuri felt the feedback was well-warranted- having worked with Reonites extensively, he knew the importance of being careful with fire magic. If that sort of magic was what Gertrude would be using in the real world, it was essential that she learn not to use it recklessly. True, she might have factored in the fact that they couldn't die in the dream, but aside from the fact that being burned alive was a very unpleasant experience, there was little point in training here if the only techniques that she honed here hinged upon one's own allies not staying dead.

Just then, a massive shadow passed overhead. Fleuri looked up at the source- the great red dragon Thrinax. A living legend, mighty even by the standards of dragons. As he passed, Gisela announced the goal of their final trial- to injure the dragon.

Not kill, or defeat, but merely injure him. And even that would be a very lofty task. The Roses had managed to avoid losing any of their own so far, but for this trial...Fleuri wouldn't be surprised if they weren't all standing by the end of it.

"Err, Lady Gisela," he asked, addressing the Hundi, "I am not sure how this realm's restoration magic works, but might there be a way to restore my dagger to my side for this last trial?" he asked, gesturing at the empty sheath at his waist.

The Hundi shot Fionn a frown briefly, clearly unhappy about the safety warning being massaged, but Fleuri's interruption drew her attention first. "I'm afraid I can't—"

That was about the point there was the quiet sound of the dagger slotting into place, and the sudden and quite unmistakeable figure of the Witch sitting, legs crossed, just off the hilltop and looking, as always, annoyingly smug. "You've put on a good show so far, so I feel that this round deserves a little change of conditions. You won't always be fighting on a bright, sunny day, especially with something so aggressive as a dragon~"

No sooner had she said that than darkness. Everywhere.

Which soon resolved itself to, in fact, not be having blinded them or stuck them all underground; it was merely a starlit night, with no moon to speak of, and an unusually vivid nebula acting as a backdrop to the stars above. Even in this darkness, Thrinax was unmistakeable, no longer vibrantly red and yet glinting as he moved, wings flaring.

"Now, Thrinax is no Volkstraad, but I think you're all still a year or two, or currently too poor, to really harm him. Now, I'm sure you'll all want to be smart and go for the eyes, or the mouth… but just in case…" the mage continued, hands drawing strings of unknown runes in the air as she kept going, "I'll just give you a little temporary enhancement to your weapons, just so you can take advantage of any other opportunities."

Down below, the glimmering mass of scales had moved, rising—flying. "Ah, it seems Thrinax is tired of waiting. Well, he is a dragon, have fun~"

Then the witch and their previous opposition were gone—



—and now the hilltop was bathed in a torrent of white-hot flames, and the almighty crash of a dragon skidding to a halt and spinning to face the knights. Assuming everyone had made it out alive.

Rolan, if he were a less patient man, might have snapped rather harshly at the Witch's apprentice who had proven to be just as difficult to work with, especially in getting to cooperate, and was now blatantly goading the Captain in an attempted guilt trip. She warranted a close eye to begin with, now more so than before, but fortunately Fionn intervened to deal with her antics instead. Good, as he stepped alongside the captain and spoke plainly, though quietly enough to not be overheard by the spoiled child of an apprentice. "We've done well so far thanks to your leadership Captain. Regardless of her intentions and childish games, we'll see this done. No matter how things twist once the final challenge begins in earnest, you always do adapt well to what's to come, and we all stand with you."

Of course, things were never so simple as to begin plainly, the Witch intervening with her own alterations to the impending fight with a dragon. No, that was not fair, a dragon grossly underestimated Thrinax. Volkstraad he may not be, but Rolan had no intention on underestimating such a figure. Rolan was staring down at Thrinax's position the entire time the Witch spoke, waiting patiently for either the order to engage, or for the dragon to act. The settling night suited him fine, he thrived far more in the dark, skulking and hunting, than he ever did in an honest battle formation. Even after agreeing to join the Roses, that hadn't changed much. The runecraft the Witch weaved didn't matter, it didn't change his tactic or approach. Evade, watch for an opening, blind the beast, end the contest. Of course, that was easier said than done by a wide margin, as the shimmering mass of scales moved his thoughts interrupted as he darted forward, barking a word of warning alongside the Witch chiming in.

"MOVE!" Rolan's path was inefficient compared to just a straight path down the hill, trying to distance himself from the rest of the Roses, and as the hill was bathed in fire he glanced back to see his own cloak already partially ablaze from the near miss of dragon's fire. A quick movement with his dagger cut the burning cloak free, turning hard and moving away from the direction the burning remains of his cloak were being carried in the night. He kept low, moving to keep himself both blended into the darkness on the ground and not draw attention to either himself or other knights. He had to wait for his opening, simply firing from a seemingly concealed position was foolish, the longer he went without drawing attention to himself, the easier it was to forget him. The moonless sky, illuminated though it was by stars and nebulae, would have to give him enough concealment to avoid Thrinax's wrath until he could take a confident shot at the eye or throat. Gauging how long he had between the mouth opening and fire spilling out would do well, if the opportunity arose. Until then Rolan would keep low and in the shadows as much as he could, watching his fellow knights and how they arranged themselves before committing himself to any course of action.

"..."

Others were stepping in for her. Sir Fionn. Sir Rolan. Either attempting to convince the apprentice mage, or standing up for her.

But if she couldn't do this herself, what sort of captain was she?

They faced a dragon. Not just any dragon, but Thrinax himself. The legendary companion of Prince Erion. They needed everything at their disposal. Fanilly couldn't understand how someone in this situation could even threaten not to help.

Had she done something wrong down the line in dealing with the mage? The Knight-Captain searched through her memories. The fact Gisela reprimanded her certainly didn't help, but they were still facing a dragon. It had to be more than that, given the situation, didn't it?

Fanilly took a deep breath.

"... We can talk after these tests are over, Lady Gertrude," she began, "But---"

She paused for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. As much as she was starting to feel frustrated, she also had to secure the other girl's assistance to help with forcing the dragon to remain grounded. Without her, she still had faith in her knights, but at the same time she couldn't ignore the just how much a mage could assist in battle against a dragon.

Even if death was not permanent here, Fanilly had to act in the way she thought would secure victory with the least potential for casualties. That meant trying to utilize every advantage she could possibly think of.

And that meant leaning on Gertrude's capabilities as a mage.

"But right now---"

The glimmering scales were like jewels.

Thrinax had taken off.

He was approaching.

"Down!" Fanilly cut herself off, "Get down the hill now!"

Already she was running, sprinting to the nearest edge of the hill as swiftly as she could. She could already imagine it, see what could happen playing out in her mind.

Slashing claws. Snapping jaws. Lashing tail.

Sheer size.

A dragon was dangerous for all of these reasons.

But they all paled in comparison to the most unique and terrifying weapon of their kind.

Dragonfire.

Searing, scorching, devastating flames that could melt away even dwarven steel in seconds. That could burn the hides of trolls to a cinder. That could leave scars upon the land that would remain for hundreds of years.

Fanilly's greaves hit the side of the hill, and her momentum allowed her to slide down, air rushing past her.

She could feel the heat behind her. Any closer, and it would have singed her cape and possibly even the back of her neck.

This was it.

They had to win.

They had to wound a dragon.

Gertrude did not hide her distaste when Fionn stepped in once again to take her prey away from her. She only wanted to toy with Fanny, and this shithead just would not allow it to happen. Gertrude let out a low growl like a particularly displeased feline when he grabbed at her shoulder, and shot him a glare. Praise was praise, and it didn't feel too bad to have someone stick up for her, but this feeling was grossly overshadowed by his depriving her of the thing she wanted.

Gertrude wanted the captain's own response, in her own words.

Even Rolan stepped up and whispered... something. Gertrude couldn't hear it, and didn't particularly care to. All it meant was there were just that many people between her and an actual talk with her employer.

Then, when Fanilly was finally about to say something, it was interrupted once again by that old hag and the dragon. Gertrude clicked her tongue, and got on her broom. She was going to offer to lift Rolan and Fanilly out of harm's way, but they were both already tumbling down the hill. Maybe if the captain had trusted her at all, she would have just grabbed Gertrude's broom.

...It wasn't as if Gertrude didn't want to help at all.

Well, it wasn't Gertrude's fault if the captain didn't trust her. It was Fanilly's. She could have chosen to have a talk with her new employee at some point. It's what a proper leader would have done, but instead Gertrude was left entirely to her own devices. People should pay attention to her. She was talented, so everyone owed her their interest and she wasn't getting as much as she should.

The one person who was still there, and apparently trusted her enough to take her broom when things were about to get very warm, was perhaps the person she detested the most out of everyone she'd met so far.

"Fuck," she growled at Fionn, "hang on tight!"

She roughly yanked the knight high into the air as the ground below them was turned into a flaming hellscape.

Gretchen, who was not on the hill in the first place, began chanting once more.

---

@Octo

---

As Fleuri began speaking up, Fionn left Gertrude's side for a moment, back towards the root he had used to climb up. Pushed as it had been, it had sent a fresh shoot up near the top of the hill, that might—someday—have made for a second trunk, given time to grow, paired with the one further down the cliff face. However, given the enemy they had to face, Fionn possessed a different idea. He reached down, taking the shoot in hand, muttering another word at it—"Aletou." At his urging, the shoot grew further, its shape being defined by his intention; straight, smooth, without any branches growing off of it that would need dealt with.

Once it reached just shy of four feet in length, he had it cut itself off at the root. Then he flipped it over, held his sword to the root end, and it grew over the hilt of the blade, wrapping itself around the crossguard to be fully secure. For dealing with dragons, longer weapons would be useful, especially after the minor enchantment granted by Merilia. In lieue of a butt spike for counterweight, the end opposite his blade flared out through the last foot, widening out like a club and helping pull the balance back. Inspecting his handiwork for a moment, Fionn nodded, satisfied—stepped back to the rest just in time to hear the air moving under Thrinax's beating wings.

Lacking any better options—short of dropping back down the side of the cliff and sliding down the root he'd grown—Fionn grabbed onto Gertrude's broom as she set aboard it. "I'll make sure to do that!" he replied as she commanded him to hold on, lifting off before he'd even pulled himself up to a proper position.

Oh. I don't know that I like dangling in the air like this.

With a white-knuckled grip on both his weapon and Gertrude's broom, Fionn was sped off away from the hilltop at a breakneck speed. "Bint!" he growled down at his weapon, a weightless, ephemeral chain linking it to his wrist almost instantly. One of the spells he'd learned from Erich, much like his pseudo-greatsword before—utilitarian, possibly embarrassing to say in front of the rest due to how they sounded like little more than simple and archaic Thalnish (which, he supposed, they just were), but invaluable in circumstances such as these. Bigger swords, something to keep you from losing your weapon...both quite helpful when fighting beasts and monsters far larger than oneself, whether demon or dragon.

Confident that he now wouldn't lose his blade, he brought his other hand up to the broom, before heaving his weight up and over it to resume a somewhat-comfortably seated posture. His left hand maintaind its grip, and he yanked his weapon back up into his right, holding it as if it were a lance on horseback.

Oh, there's a fun idea. Couch this in my armpit and charge Thrinax in the air...maybe Gertrude will agree to that.

But not for a while yet, as the dragon would likely be far too prepared for any such exceptionally-bold attacks. They'd have to wear him down first, no doubt. "Thanks for the help!" he said brightly to the girl piloting the broom. "You've got me starting to think you're not so difficult after all!"

Even through the sudden darkness and paying attention to the knowledge his weapon was enchanted, Renar hadn't taken his eyes off Thrinax ever since the beast started moving. It approached, its head rearing back, and-

Oh. Oh, damn it all. He bit back a curse, quickly diving off the hilltop and unceremoniously tumbling down a way before he righted himself into a slide. There weren't any chances to be taken when it came to a threat of this magnitude. The knight glanced up to see his sudden surge of movement pay off, as the hilltop was bathed in dragon's flame.

Right. First things first. Take stock. What was he working with?

Fortunately, it seemed Thrinax's opening move hadn't killed anyone among the Roses, or even seriously injured them. Very good. Everyone was regrouping, with the exception of Gertrude, who was high in the air on her broom, and Fionn, who'd evidently hitched a ride. That opened possibilities. Ones that would be difficult to coordinate considering they were out of speaking range, but Renar trusted that Fionn would take opportunities as they came.

"Gerard, Fleuri." Renar picked himself back up onto his feet, poleaxe brandished in front of him. "With me. We're missing Fionn, but he's in a better position to deal critical damage. All we need to do is keep Thrinax's attention long enough for the others to strike a decisive blow. Remember, it isn't stupid. We can't simply survive. We'll need to pose a credible enough threat to stay engaged with, lest it have the opportunity to shift its attention."

He surveyed the immediate area, mapping a route forward in his mind.

"Forward, and keep to cover as we approach. I don't doubt that a dragon has better night vision than we do, but Merilla's change in conditions may benefit us more than it does Thrinax."

@Crimson Paladin @HereComesTheSnow

Gerard Segremors

@Psyker Landshark@Crimson Paladin

True to expectations, Gerard had skidded to a halt down the slope a mere couple meters away, eyes never having left the massive beast all the while. By the time it had taken wing, he'd already been verifying the unchanged heft of his blade in response to the Witch's enchantments— by the time the silvery-white flame, so close to the golden blazes found in every Reonite shrine he'd ever been blessed by the warmth of, he had similarly already been moving.

"Fionn on high with Gertrude, Rolan slinking around in the shadows for an opportunity with that crossbow, only the Captain and Gretchen unaccounted for with us at the fore..." he muttered in undertone, glancing about the field.

He narrowed his eyes, blinking once, twice, as they adjusted again to the sudden shift in ambient light— that'd potentially prove troublesome. Between the moonless night and Thrinax's brilliant, searing flames, there would be points where the dark might more or less appear as void, before the pupils dilated anew, and the blaze from his maw would conversely be blinding. On the subject of light, though...

"Done." he nodded as Renar's instructions took shape, before driving his sword back into its sheath for the approach. He could pull it free at a moment's notice if need be, but assuming they didn't want to reveal their positions early, judging from Renar's train of thought... "Shadows where possible, too. Less light caught by our steel, less chance he spots us before we're in position."

With that, the wolf set to a prowl like those he once walked his home woods with, stalking forward with a light and considered stride.

After the explosive arrival, Thrinax seemed to be almost leisurely as his head drifted skywards to regard the odd sight of the witch's apprentice and her passenger… although the brief snort of red-white flame showed that even that small interest was a hazard that would kill anyone not prepared to mvoe.

But with most of the knights scurrying for cover, there was a dearth of available targets for the massive figure to address. Except for one: Fanilly, not pulled into the same attempts at stealth as… well, just about everyone else. Fortunately, the dragon's approach was obvious, his pace slow.

And then he pounced, and suddenly there was no space between them, and a claw slashing down.

Rolan observed the knights scatter and take to their strategies. A lot of going to ground and staying low, though a trio was moving on Thrinax as he moved rather casually down the hill, noting the flying duo, before turning his attention back towards who was visible. The Captain had not gone to ground, whether that was because she had not had the time to go to ground, or because of some other reason, some foolhardy effort to prove herself maybe, didn't matter. He couldn't do anything to prevent that, but he had to hope the other knights would be able to intervene more directly to draw Thrinax's attention. At this point Rolan had stopped moving, settling into a low crouching position, putting himself into the most stable position he could to line up his shot. The dragon's movement was slow, for now, but he wasn't going to waste his shot yet.

Rolan settled his breathing, quelling his nerves and concerns, pushing everything out of his mind except the basics. Pick his target, the eye. He didn't trust the witch's enchantment to let his crossbow bypass glittering scale, and he watched every twitch, every movement, the subtle motions of the head as Thrinax gauged his surroundings, chose his target in the Captain, tracking every detail he could in the time span he had to work. He would take aim with his crossbow, slow in comparison to his rapid volume of shots earlier in the challenges they had faced, clamping down hard on his misgivings, his nerves, every concern and what if racing in the back of his head. Now was not the time to doubt and panic, he could do that later when he had time alone to ruminate. Slow his breathing, force himself into a state of absolute control over himself, for as brief a period as needed.

He couldn't loose his shot while Thrinax remained unengaged, such a small target was easy to shield and guard. No, he had to wait until the Captain was in the greatest danger, under direct attack, and sure enough the blistering speed at which the dragon covered ground would have certainly thrown off any shot he had made prior. Instead, as the claw came down, Rolan exhaled and let loose his crossbow bolt, not waiting to see if it connected or not. With his first shot loosed, and position revealed if it hadn't been before, Rolan began moving and firing as fast as he could span the crossbow, only pausing his movement to draw aim and fire again. After the first shot, he was attempting to keep Thrinax from being able to leave the weaker spots exposed, distracting rather than outright going for killshots, well, wounding shots rather since a single crossbow bolt to the eye wouldn't fell a dragon, let alone Thrinax. If he was shooting to kill he would be poisoning his bolts, but right now that was not necessary. A solid enough shot that would allow poison to work would also count as wounding the dragon he suspected. But for now, focus on putting enough bolts towards Thrinax to, if he was lucky, distract. If he was luckier, maybe even wound Thrinax.

Suddenly the dragon was there.

She knew he'd been in pursuit. It was impossible not to know. But suddenly the enormous creature's claws were flashing through the air as his bulk slammed down.

Fanilly threw herself forward as soon as she hit the bottom of the hill, hearing the earth tearing apart behind her from Thrinax's mighty blow.

Her heart felt like it was about to tear its way free from her chest. She had to shake the pursuit and regroup, but on her own... how? How did she do something like like that? She had to think, in the scant instant she had before Thrinax renewed his assault, she had to think.

Her sword wasn't particularly useful for this purpose. There was no way she could damage him notably with it from this angle, even with the blessings. They would need a more concentrated effort in order to strike the dragon and wound him. And besides, if she could do that then the challenge would already be over.

No, it was clear she would have to do something, anything, else. Something that would shake the dragon for at least a few moments, either to give her an opportunity to escape to cover or for her knights to join her.

Their win condition was to wound the dragon, however slightly. Thrinax had to do everything he could to ensure that didn't happen, so---

Turning her body, Fanilly tossed her sword into her left hand and drew her knife with her right. She didn't need to hit. She just needed it to seem possible that she might.

The Knight-Captain drew her arm back and threw it.

The Dragon's head was a large target. A nick on the gums, the eyelid, or even the eye would be a loss for Thrinax, so at the very least he'd likely rather move his head even a little to ensure that it missed or hit his thick scales, wouldn't he?

It's what Fanilly hoped.

She was already running.

Gerard Segremors

@Psyker Landshark@Crimson Paladin@Eisenhorn@VitaVitaAR

The period of tension, in many ways, mercifully short. Within it, the triad of hidden roses had moved swiftly, closing distance under the cover of the moonless night's gloom as the mighty dragon busied himself, for a moment, with idly regarding Gertrude and Fionn as they made their circuit high above, to Gerard's eyes little more than a vague dot against the backdrop. Just a little more...

And then, in the span of a moment, that "little more" was handled by their prey himself, launching forward in a feline pounce and suddenly bearing down on—

Aw hell, the Captain hadn't gotten to cover. She'd be quick enough from what he'd seen to evade the first claw, slashing down, but anything after that was getting dicey. He about-faced, his low prowl shifting to a ready position to bound, reading the new distances they were faced with, forcing a layer of rime over his rushing blood. The distinctive report from Rolan's crossbow, somewhere hidden in the underbrush on the opposite side of the dragon, bought them a split second—

"He's on the Captain. I'm goin' get pressure off her, this is close enough to work."

And with that, timed in sync with the third shot from their ranger, he was off.

He trusted Renar and Fleuri both to be able to fold this into the operation they were running without issue, given the sudden closure of range between all the pieces on the board. While he, Rolan, and the Captain occupied the bulk of Thrinax's attention, the remaining pair could cross over behind, and truly encircle him. A pack of wolves, harrying and harassing their singular target from every angle it'd take to wear him down.

He drew his sword, no longer worried about stealth. His angle of attack would take him close to the hind leg, obscured by the red curtain of Thrinax's wings. He could go for the tendons of the ankle here, the membrane of the wing if it crept low enough, if he was adventurous, even the underbelly, traditionally understood as "softer" in myth.

A flash in the peripheral, a thrown knife from the Captain. Good, another layer of distraction. It'd buy her more time to reset, too. On his end, he likely needed to mind the tail the most.

Time to test out those blessings.

Gertrude clicked her tongue. This guy just couldn't stop saying things that annoyed her. Still, from their vantage point, they had a pretty good shot at finding a time to make a difference. The trick was being close enough to take advantage of it, which would be difficult if Thrinax didn't have some good distractions.

"It's everyone else who's difficult," Gertrude growled, "it's not my fault they're all witless dunderpates."

As she said this, the dragon fixed his gaze on the captain and swung, his fearsome claws only narrowly evaded. Gerard converged as Rolan took his shots, and the rest were doubtless not far behind. Gertrude, for her part, wasn't able to do as much as she'd like against the dragon's powerful hide. Gretchen was already chanting, but that was a powerful wind spell that would make escape for the dragon (if he tried it) considerably more difficult. For once, she had the chance to take any interest in what Fionn was doing.

"I didn't figure you for a magic-user, even if it's idiot magic," Gertrude snorted, looking at the modifications the man had made to his blade, "still, idiot offense is a perfectly acceptable answer to idiot defense. I think we can close in a little more without being in too much danger."

Gertrude's broom turned sharply, and she began heading towards the dragon from behind while still maintaining a respectable distance. It was a large creature, and despite being terrifyingly agile, it would take it a moment to get turned around. If it wanted to spit fire, Gertrude would have a good amount of warning. Normally she'd bombard something at this point, but there might be some value in a more sneaky approach.

"If you have any more stupid plans like during that last test, I'm all ears."

Fortunately, Thrinax hadn't attempted to waylay any of the distraction team as they moved into place. Unfortunately, the dragon went for the next worst target possible: the captain. At the very least, the aforementioned along with Gerard and Rolan were already reacting quickly, giving time for himself and Fleuri to move.

Renar caught Fleuri's eye from a distance away as Gerard dashed forward, nodding to the former.

"Do as you did with the griffin!" Was all he had time to say before charging forth, moving to help encircle the dragon and hoping Fleuri got the point.

The front, flank, and one hind leg were under assault. It was distracted. Regardless, Renar held no illusions of being able to land a telling blow without risk. Against a dragon, that was a fool's wish.

“There are too many things in the world that can attack you even if they leave themselves open to injury. Magic armour, vampires, wild monsters in general…”

“Most of what the Iron Roses deal with are normal humans or similar. But you’ll need to be ready for those that aren’t, who won’t be impaired the same way. How you learn to deal with that is up to you, but try not to learn on the spot. Doing it that way hurts.”

Perhaps not all of Tyaethe's advice was applicable in this situation, but he parsed the gist of it. Renar made for the dragon's hind leg on the opposite flank as Gerard was attacking from, closing the distance as quickly as he could while Thrinax was still otherwise occupied. Instead of attacking from the ground, however, he slung his poleaxe up across his back and leapt up, attempting to climb atop the dragon using its scales as hand and foot holds. They wouldn't get anywhere presenting a credible threat from the ground alone, and thankfully the only member of the Roses that had any amount of experience with mounting flying beasts wasn't otherwise engaged yet.

@Crimson Paladin @HereComesTheSnow @VitaVitaAR @Eisenhorn

---

@Octo

---

"Do you always badmouth every last thing that doesn't fit your exact expectations?"

It almost seemed like she did. It must be a sad life, but he didn't have the time to really dig into it; indeed, as she had asked, it was time for him to come up with a 'stupid' plan to try and see things through. Neverminding that it couldn't be stupid if it worked—something she'd no doubt say about her own plans if the situation were reversed.

At least they were getting better at communicating with each other, not just fighting. "Aye, if you can save your coping for after we're done!" he confirmed. Luckily, even in the darkness, Thrinax's scales caught the starlight and whatever other illumination there was and reflected it nicely enough that he remained well visible. Even when the light was blocked, the mass was unmistakable. It would make Gertrude's piloting easier, certainly, something he'd be relying on.

"The others are going to be aiming for his eyes, undoubtedly. We'll want to be careful around the head if we want to avoid friendly fire, not to mention his own. See if you can make some passes at his wings, close enough I can stab down at them—and if he rears his head up high enough, take us in for his neck. I leave it to you to keep us from getting skewered by a knife or a crossbow bolt."

Whether Gertrude said anything in the affirmative or not, Fionn couldn't hear it over the sudden rush of wind as the broom picked up speed, diving downwards and coming up along Thrinax's side rapidly. There was the unmistakable site of one of the knights below trying to climb up the dragon—something to keep in mind for a second pass—but he barely had a second to register that before his spoken target was nearly upon him.

Another breath, and he thrust hard downward, the tip of his weapon seeking the softer membrane of Thrinax's left wing—not just to puncture, but to let the broom carry them along and rend a gaping hole in the limb if they were successful.

Fleuri Jodeau

Ordinarily, having his dagger restored to him and his weapons enhanced with magic would be considered very generous. But in this particular context, in this particular challenge, it was clear to Fleuri that this was an act of mercy to give them a fighting chance. And all of this was just to wound Thrinax.

Looking at what they were up against, however, it was no surprise that the terms of the match seemed so merciful- they were going up against a legend whose power supposedly even surpassed Volkstraad, whom it had taken a living saint to bring down. Merely managing to draw blood with magically enhanced weapons was going to be a very difficult task.

And it looked like Thrinax wasn't going to wait for them to come to him- he took flight and let loose his fire upon the hill. Fanilly ordered the knights to take cover (not that they really needed her guidance to know that staying put would end very poorly), and Fleuri complied, bolting and tumbling into cover as the flames blanketed the hilltop.

Renar was quick to take charge once again, giving commands to Gerard and Fleuri to keep the dragon's attention. He couldn't deny that Renar had some skill at taking charge in a fight.

As the dragon swiped a claw at Fanilly, Renar gave Fleuri another command- to do what he did with the griffin. Evidently, his stunt with Lucas had left a lasting impression on Renar. Either that or it was just a ploy to get Fleuri non-permanently killed in an amusing manner. But Renar had a point in that something like this would need to be attacked from all directions, and even if Thrinax knew how to deal with someone latching onto his back (and he probably did), it'd still probably be more troublesome than dealing with someone in any other position around him.

Since there was no watchtower, he opted to circle around to the dragon's neck and head, opposite to where Fanilly was readying her knife, from the look of it she was about to throw it. Fleuri had no idea how good her knife-throwing skills were, or how well-balanced her dagger was for throwing, but he had faith that the Captain knew what she was doing.

Assuming that Thrinax would move his head to avoid the blow, Fleuri readied his sword to strike at it while it was focused on not getting hit by Fanilly. And if the opportunity presented itself, perhaps he might even see an opening to latch onto it on like Renar suggested.

@Psyker Landshark@VitaVitaAR

With all the attacks coming, from every angle, it was inevitable that the dragon would be unable to respond to them all individually without suffering a small nick from some direction. Of course, with every attack so far made being so targeted at vulnerable positions…

All the dragon had to do was spin, and suddenly the immense size was barely any different from a normal animal doing the same. Although, it must be said that a dragon spinning around, even with wings flaring and adding an oppressive gust of wind to the flying duo, looked almost absurd. Like something that big should never be able to be so sinuous at the same time.

Even stranger was hearing something of that size speak, Thrinax's voice a bassy rumble—but nothing so deep as the size alone suggested. "Not all battles can be won on cleverness alone, little knights. Thou hath proven thy ability to plan, now show thy valour."

The dragon's eyes flicked far back towards Renar's extremely precarious position as he said that. Acknowledgement? Or just a warning before another stream of dragonfire was shot cascading down his side. But this time, the rest of the dragon wasn't still; one claw still slashing out at the captain that threatened his front, and Gerard indeed having to worry about the tail swinging around to crush him. Annoyingly, the dragon's spin hadn't been a complete revolution, leaving everyone just slightly out of their relative positions and nowhere near as safe.

"Really?!"

Rolan was, by this point, unable to keep the frustration with the situation under wraps. He hadn't expected his shots to land home so easily, but the borderline ridiculous whirling the dragon Thrinax engaged in that threw off every attempted attack, the gale force of the movement staggering both him, and sending his bolts hurtling who knows where, the knight sized up the situation while recovering his footing, staying out of reach of claw and flame. He was one the right side of the dragon to evade the flame, fortunately, but the attacks on the others continued regardless. Crushing tail, honed claw, off balancing movements and shudders, and the only sign of the mage was her playing at a glorified chauffer of one of the better knights of the band. Observing the situation, he was reminded once again of the fact that, as far as he was concerned, he was almost comically out of his element. It was time to take stock of his options, moving back further into the shadowy underbrush, valor be damned.

Approaching and engaging in close was pointless, even with enchantment getting his knife in under a dragon scale was the best Rolan could hope to do. Take shots at the glittering hide? Sure, trust that he could pierce the hide enough to actually inflict injury. Alchemical supplies? The alchemist fire would just blind and endanger his fellows without getting through the hide, and his ability to land a blow on vitals would defeat the purpose of a loaded bolt. Same with the caustic smoke, if he had any vials of that left. The rest was poison, which all looped back to landing a blow in the first place. He furrowed his brow, staring at the scales on Thrinax as he moved and fought, his fellow knights engaging how they saw fit, his mind flitted back to the enchantment. Yes, he could rely on that, but frankly? He struggled to allow himself to. There was no promise that, should they have to cross paths with a dragon under circumstances worse than these, he would have a means to just punch through dragonscale. That assumed the enchantment even allowed his bolts to pass through the scale, but trying to pepper Thrinax with bolts was just going to empty his reserves into the whipping winds that each movement of the wings produced.

Settling further back, further out of reach, he moved beyond what most crossbowman would consider a reasonable or comfortable range. If Rolan could not make his strikes from within reasonable range, he would make them from unreasonable range. He kept low, settling into a shooting position, but didn't immediately open fire. He grabbed the most potent poison he had brewed, back when he thought they had to kill the dragon. Valor be damned, he wasn't going to ever soar to the same heights as the other knights in terms of status and station, so why restrain himself? He grabbed a bodkin tipped bolt, the best one he had and the one with the best odds of piercing dragon scale, even slightly. Thrinax be damned, he was not going to simply play along with the contest like the dragon presented it now. Loading the bolt and spanning his crossbow, he took his time aiming. Enchantments be damned, all he trusted at this point in time was his own capabilities, regardless if they were up for the task or not.

Rolan would have to trust the others to hold as he set up his shot, the winds that Thrinax whipped up spinning rendered trying to overwhelm with volume of fire pointless. Steadying his breath, almost to a complete still, he blocked out the sounds of combat, of the rumble of the dragon's voice, everything except his own heart. Steady, steady, slow, slower, panic would unsteady his hand, worry about consequences would unsteady his hand. Watching with nothing acknowledged but the sound of his own heart, he only loosed the bolt when the wings were slowing, preparing to move again but still arresting the last movement that would whip up winds to throw off incoming attacks. He was still aiming for a weak point, not the eye at this distance, but he was looking to land his shot somewhere the dragonscale should, if he was lucky, be thin enough to penetrate. He didn't need the bolt to wound, just to deliver the poison he had coated the bolt in, that would be wound enough. Thrinax could demand that the knights show valor all he wanted, but Rolan wasn't here to be valorous. He was here to wound a dragon or die trying. Let the others argue about how their actions hadn't been valor enough already.

---

Fionn cursed as Thrinax’s wing flicked slightly, on of the fingers knocking his blade aside with nary a scratch; it was all he could do in the moment after to draw it back in as Gertrude pulled up sharply, the both of them immediately buffeted by a hefty gust as Thrinax twisted in place. She dove again as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t lose control, throwing the broom into a tight, spinning turn, up and under the dragon’s jaw.

Even feeling his heart trying to rise into his throat from what felt like a free fall, Fionn still swung up as they passed under the dragon’s head, as much to harass him as anything else—maybe enough to force him to change his angle, and not directly bathe Renar in flames trying to climb upon him. In another moment he was upside down, clenched legs and hand keeping him held to the broom for dear life—and right side up again just as quickly, his teeth as clenched as everything else.

”Póg mo thóin!” he growled. ”Good flying, I think, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it. I feel...chomh ciotach le muc i sciamhlann!” He nodded to himself, seemingly entirely unconcerned that Gertrude wouldn’t have the faintest clue what he’d just said. As always with the northern Veltish knight, sometimes nothing was better to express himself than his native tongue, listeners be damned.

Gertrude snorted, though less in derision and more in a facsimile of amusement. Of course she had no idea what that dullard had said, but she understood it. She’d nearly forgotten how it felt to train on her broom for the first time. If Fionn was anything like her, she’d get the opportunity to see him vomit his guts out when they hit the ground.

Gross, yes, but also funny.

“Not to your taste?” Gertrude taunted, the usual bratty sneer on her lips, “Well, I can’t blame you. It takes a certain caliber of mage to handle something like this, especially while casting and observing.”

Gertrude would frankly take any opportunity for self-aggrandizement, though she left out that soul partitioning made every aspect of her borderline insane feats that much easier.

They were safe for a moment, rounding around to face the great beast a second time as the others, saving themselves from the immediate reprisal, started to resume their assault. Valour. Thrinax said he wanted to see their valour, was that it?

Fionn’s fingers flexed along the haft of his weapon. ”Gertrude...you’re not worried about a little fire, are you? Someone as strong as you certainly knows wards to keep even dragonsflame at bay.”

Gertrude couldn’t help but look back at Fionn. Dragonsflame? From one of the most powerful creatures in recorded history? Where the hell would she even get context for that? He had to be joking. His expression, however, told her that he was not.

That manic grin on his face might have been chilling enough to keep those flames at bay, if dragonsflame cared about metaphor. Gertrude returned his insane grin with her own.

“Are you daft? You’re mad as a March hare! How the hell would I have the opportunity to know that?” she laughed uproariously, “Still… maybe if I started a chant right now and put as much magic as I could into a flame ward. But why would I risk that?”

Even as Gertrude said this, however, Gretchen had changed the chant into a defensive spell. If Thrinax wanted valor, then he likely wouldn’t be running away with his tail between his legs.

”There’s the confidence I was looking for!” Fionn exclaimed, his grin growing wider. It was nearly past the point that it could be likened to a normal human expression at all—a row of white shining in the starlight like a dog baring its teeth before a strike, or a shark smelling blood in the water. Whatever he’d come up with, he certainly seemed quite pleased with it.

Or, perhaps, he saw a shot at some sort of glory and he was ready to take it heedless of the consequences.

“Confidence? Out-and-out madness, more like,” Gertrude snorted. He hadn’t answered why she’d possibly risk this, especially with how selfish she’d acted all along, but at this point he didn’t need to. They both understood what they were doing. They’d implicitly agreed on that much.

Fionn had his reasons, and Gertrude had hers. She hadn’t been able to make as good a showing as she would have liked so far, but her pride would not go quietly into the night. She was just aggravated, seething, young, and crazy enough to take that gamble.

He glanced over towards Thrinax just as the unmistakable, quiet snap of Rolan’s crossbow sounded down below. ”Strong a shield as you can, Gertrude, and if you could get as low over this thing as you can that would help even more. Push it as fast as you can, too.” He hefted up his makeshift polearm, couching the butt end of it just under his armpit.

Like Renar had shown him to use larger Thalnish lances, not the light sort he was used to whenever he had to ride a horse in battle before joining the Iron Roses. Tightening his grip, he uttered—”Grandesce!”—and the sword at the end of the staff once again became suffused with light, a spectral blade growing larger and past his sword’s actual blade, twice as large and wide as it was before, glowing like a new star in the sky. Back to the first spell he’d used in this entire test; Sometimes, all you need is a bigger blade.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gertrude growled, swinging a leg over the broom. Side saddle was more comfortable, but if she wanted speed, she’d have to cut all the wind resistance she could. She clinched, and hung horizontal over the broom.

”Try to come at his head from the side first, and do it fast enough that he’d rather try to burn us out than just twist away—then just aim right for his mouth. I’ll keep this as steady as I can, but if I have to rest it on your shoulder to keep my aim, well, you’re strong enough that shouldn’t throw you off, aye?”

“Don’t get shy now, schweinehund. You’ve put those stupid paws on my shoulders enough that they might as well be a second home. Do what you have to, just make sure we win.”

Gertrude didn’t tell him that she wasn’t strong at all. That she needed magical enhancement just to get around like a normal person. But being strong or not didn’t matter, as long as they got it done. If she braced as hard as she could against the broom, she could support the weight.

Gertrde got Thrinax’s head in her sights, and went at him at full speed from the side. Fionn leaned down as well, bringing his feet up behind him to brace against where the bristles lashed to the broomstick, his blade still held high as they started to gain speed. As much as he didn't expect that the two of them would walk away from this charge, it still felt better to brace himself for the impact than to not.

”We'll put a hole in your hide yet, dragon,” he uttered grimly, the grin not leaving his face. They accelerated rapidly to a break-neck speed, far faster than any horse Fionn had ever rode upon. He lowered his glowing blade towards Thrinax, the fore end of the haft resting against Gertrude's shoulder as the committed to their fate as a giant missile.

As they streaked across the sky like a shooting star aimed at the dragon, he couldn't resist roaring out in challenge: ”Bás! Buaidh nó bás! BÁS AGUS BUAIDH!”