Of course things would not be as easy as Rolan would have hoped, even with the combined efforts of the present knights.

Ser Caulder had struck true, supported by both Ser Gerard and Dame Yael's efforts to create an opening past the legs, though the beast had squirmed from a true gutting to a gaping wound. The fact it wasn't immediately stitching back together was proof enough that this would work, they just had to get the source of its meal free of its guts. However, Rolan narrowly ducked out of the way of the hurtling Ser Caulder, battered back violently by the retaliatory strike of the abomination, and he slung his crossbow as he grabbed a sturdy branch that was laying about. Nowhere near the practical trunk that Ser Gerard wielded, but he didn't need a bludgeon, not that he had the strength to put it to use. The pouring darkness and aching hunger would have, just a few weeks prior, driven him to flee. Hell, he wanted to still, but he could not afford to leave his betters struggling alone. Strength and agility were all fine and well, but that alone wouldn't cast back darkness. The hunger reminded him of just how much he [i]loathed[/i] this thing's existence. It reminded him of the failed hunt, the poor harvest, famine's gaping maw seating itself as an unwelcome guest for another winter. He wouldn't allow that darkness, that hunger to set in, not again. Never again, and he was making something just for that darkness encroaching on them all. The previous fear was giving away to anger, a tight knot in his stomach that he stoked, something to occupy his mind from that gnawing hunger. 

A swift slash of his dagger tore a long stretch of his cloak cleanly asunder, binding it around the branch before dousing it in half the ingredient's of his alchemist's fire, the component that burned so greedily, some of the records he read about the substance considered it almost unnatural. Nonsense, as both student and mentor agreed, but it would do in a pinch. Grabbing a small vial of prepared fire, the kind he would affix to a crossbow bolt before loosing into a formation, he closed his eyes tight as he dumped the erupting flames out of the vial onto the makeshift torch, fortune preserve him through this. The alchemical fire burned bright and loud, a roar consuming air and shadow alike as he opened his right eye, preferring to keep his dominant aiming eye shut in case he needed to shoot in a sudden darkness. He held the torch high, aiming to banish the billowing darkness coming from the ever mounting center of this unnatural, damned hunger. He drew his sword, not able to fire and reload a crossbow while holding a torch, and advanced on the Gannek to cover for Ser Caulder while he recovered.

[color=lightblue]"Come on you ugly [i]bastard[/i], all that hunger and darkness and for what?! Have a look at what all of that is worth!"[/color] Rolan moved to the flank of the Gannek, shouting a challenge at the thing to get its attention, to buy Dame Yael and Ser Gerard an opening. He would just have to hope they recognized the movement as just that, an attempt to provide them an opening. If it ignored him, he would go for the wound, hell he was going for it anyways, but if it was guarding against him, it couldn't guard against Dame Yael or Ser Gerard as readily. If he was lucky Ser Caulder would recover quickly and strike while the three of them fought to open the wound fully. The torch would, fortune willing, keep the darkness at bay long enough for them to bring the damn thing down once and for all. 

[@VitaVitaAR][@HereComesTheSnow]