[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]
[@Psyker Landshark]

Silence...

And then [url=https://youtu.be/p0tQLPPYcRY?si=lx6kNm6NSHQQ11Yo]pandemonium.[/url]

The sinking feeling in his gut, wrenching and cold, had proven itself right— and with the moment's passing, Rudolf felt some small part of him die. By the time Eliane's bullets were loosed, and Isolde ordered their capture... he couldn't even let out the frustrated snarl that had been building at the back of his throat. He had to bring his blades to bear and step past the crumpled remains of that vain hope that they could avoid this. One it seemed not even Robin had been willing to hold. Normally, he'd have blamed [i]that[/i] on her boiling everything down to easy and thoughtless trope instead of muddy reality. But time after time, that same simple way of looking at it all seemed to keep her eyes clearer. 

His vision was getting hazy.

Sparks flew, as steel edges collided and his exhausted frame screamed in protest as he wrenched the hasted thrust of a longsword to the side, and he put all his might into a one-handed swing of the greatsword. On the wrong end of the speed dynamic he had just minutes ago enjoyed like this, he was dismayed but far from shocked to watch the white-robed Templar fade back behind the line of his peers, two men bearing spear and shield that barely felt the impact upon the barriers surrounding their frames, let alone any mar upon their iron curtain.

It was probably always inevitable, anyway. He had been careless... and he had already seen the lesson he learned in action only a few days before, when they thought that Isolde was at least one Grovemaster still on their side. He knew how any negotiation involving Drana Asnaeu and Skael on opposite ends of the board went— they'd done a dry run already in Brightlam and made a complete mess of it. He didn't know where the [i]hell[/i] Eliane had gotten it into her big [i]empty[/i] head that a glorified guard [i]had[/i] any authority to declare war, but they'd foolishly gone and given her the biggest gun they could find and a majority vote in favor of using it.

[color=c0392b]"Ngh."[/color] His eyes flashed as he saw the instant their torsos shifted, throwing himself back as a pair of spears blinked into existence in the space that had been his kneecap a second ago. [i]Behind's no good—[/i] a familiar voice called, almost soon enough to prepare him for the jarring shield bash to the back of his skull from a knight he'd not seen get around his guard—

Hell with it. The gun, the beam of light, the threats preceding, they'd all just happened. Didn't matter. Here they were. Maybe he had no leg to stand on.

That they were in this situation at all was every bit as much proof that he was no sterling judge of character, or the hand he was trying to play at the table. Irresponsible gambler, shocked that he'd burned a hole through his pocket once again, tale old as time. It was all fucked. They just needed to push their way through it now. No time or energy for anything else. [color=c0392b][i]Just focus on twenty four Galahad-level problems in front of you, twice as fast as probably still faster than you. Wield my armaments. Make openings. Get us out. That's already more than I'm ready for. Focus goes there. Burn what it takes.[/i][/color][sup]1[/sup]

Blood flew from his mouth, the inside of his cheek or tongue bitten open by the sudden jarring collision. The sharp pain and taste of copper was a small blessing in that it kept his head from swimming— enough to plant his boot onto the sturdy point where the two hafts hafts crossed, push off, and leap clear overhead of the two knights, in the direction of Izayoi. Twisting through the air to try and game a couple extra feet out of the momentum, he swung down with the greatsword as his body rose higher, willing a curtain of black flame through the arc to screen their vision that extra second—

[i]You're on your own there. I'm not risking it.[/i]

And instead was treated to the horrifying silence of a good five feet of blade bouncing harmlessly off of a top-class magical barrier. He landed and surged ahead, mind racing, into the space where she had managed to force a gap in their tight group. He was lucky, in a small respect, that he already was really familiar with how damned useless the thing was. It meant he could plan around it much more quickly, leverage what little strengths it had. Even a rubber Montante still took up space, and this one at least looked like steel. He could dissuade approach.

He swung wide, forcing a few helmeted men back, holding the gap she'd made— but hasted as they were, the Templars were quick to adjust after a few words between them all blurred together. That was another problem. They communicated well. While he had a hard time making out the words, especially in the rush of desperate combat, he had caught the directionality— the two behind.

The templars forced back in almost immediately, redoubled confidence behind the nearest one's mace. They had to have told eachother that it couldn't get through the barrier, he realized, barely catching the ringing blow on the flat, braced against his shoulder— strong as his body was, he still felt the ground crack beneath his heels with that one, and his joint nearly dislocate. He shoved the larger man away, filling the space in his wake with another forceful, vicious-looking swing—

Sure enough, a second and third came in behind his arc, practically on top of him an instant later and finding the point of his knife rammed into his eye as the faux-sagramori spun through fully, and his sturdy sabertooth dagger proved far better at piercing their bestowed defenses (at least when they unexpectingly ran into it). Wrenching it free, his right side blossomed in pain as he registered impact— the hammer end of a pollaxe had slipped past his guard. His teeth grit, and he ripped another line of long steel through the space around him, desperate to rebuild momentum and initiative—

[b]"THESHORTBLADEISTHETRUEDANGERBROTHERSHEWILLWEARHIMSELFDOWNIFWEKEEPLETTINGHIMSWING"[/b]

And his ears just about made out the words of the man he had relieved of an optic nerve not even a second ago, Regen and Reraise leaving him no worse for wear in the slightest. This was impossible against opponents of this number and caliber. They were too fast, too unkillable, too observant and [i]coordinated[/i] to even have a hope of dealing with fresh. The numbers alone had been against them— this wasn't stacking the deck so much as holding a crossbow to the brow demanding all the chips outright. He'd hold this opening as well as he could, but they needed to be [i]decisive[/i] if they wanted to pull a win or even escape out of this.

His heart hammered. His muscles screamed. His bones creaked. His head swam. His vision dimmed. His sword barely scratched anything on a good day. He was certain he was two steps from falling apart. How many bones had he already given up? How much blood?

His knife, that too-often relied upon last resort, punched through, at least. But...

The next Templar it bit into grinned, and grabbed Rudolf by the wrist for a mere instant, as he saw the wound it gave begin to close around the blade before his eyes. He bought himself a moment with a headbutt to the nose, and wrenched the handle while bumping a shoulder to the breastplate and kicking the man's leg out from under him—

... It wouldn't be enough to get anything [i]more[/i] done, and they were already wise to needing to take it from him. He was not a siege engine to punch through the gate, so much as a lone soldier trying to wedge his back into a gap in the portcullis.

Hopefully, at least, the others would fare better and be able to use that gap to get out of here before they were all overrun. He was done even pretending he ever liked his odds on anything. Let alone this. [color=c0392b][i]I may as well be in Hell already.[/i][/color]

He struggled on, buying what time and space he could.

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[*][sub]1. Not. Happening. After that dispel, I'm taking no chances. She still wants you alive. She may get what's going on in here, but when one of these upjumped zealots catches even a whiff of what I do they're going to claim we were an "incidental casualty" at the very best. They do not play about blasphemy. They aren't here because they believe in people like you pulling yourself out of a hole the way she does. I'm an accessory to murder, not to suicide.[/sub]

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