[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[color=goldenrod]"Horse,"[/color] Gerard's monosyllabic reply came swift as ever, undercut with the sharp ring of drawn steel as he stalked forward, sword catching the light of the high moon. He could tell who Renar's little reminder was aimed at by now— it was likely enough that this had already simply become a pre-battle ritual between them. Luckily, he had come to a similar enough conclusion— and was confident that surviving Cyrus in any respectable capacity would mean surviving the Hunt wouldn't be so impossible as it once seemed to him. Behind the shadows of his visor, his eyes narrowed even as he took in the field before him, leading up to the veiled woman atop her gaunt steed.

A clearing like this was... well, horrid, putting it bluntly. So easy to get encircled here, but the nature of this little quest had more or less put better options out of the cards, as he'd been grumbling about earlier. Only thing to do with it was do as he always did— see the good in things. At least here they could track their foes clearly, after all. The thicket would have been nightmarish, for all it cut down on lines of attack, by making that much damned impossible.

What was more, the current locale offered them ample opportunity to maneuver through the massed hordes of the lower-ranks, and find gaps to close in on and lock down the obvious big shots that had appeared from the throng— in the depths of the forest, those paths might have been filled by branch or bush or entire hardwood. [color=goldenrod]"Good hunting, boys."[/color] 

So, those elites... Many of them had readily available indications of what sort of nasty tricks they had to pull that had earned them the elevated stature. A Man of Many Traps, Feathered and Furred Beasts on retainer... But his was a different story. Her veil and dress were pure porcelain, as though spun from threads of the same moonlight that cast them, and the many leering fae folk between, in washed-out tones of grey and blue. The horse she rode upon was gaunt, in his estimation too gaunt by half... Maybe some tie to famine? Hunger? She was a Pale Rider, after all...

[color=goldenrod]"Reon guide me. May her light show me truth."[/color] he intoned below the beginning clamor, raising the flat of his sword to meet with his brow in one part prayer, one part present arms. All he had were guesses, meaning she was an unknown element on the field. None of these folk could wisely be left free to their own devices, obviously— so without any other recourse, the Knights would have to force her to show her hand while trying to keep her from interfering in Tyaethe's grudge match.

Of the lot of them, he had the fewest natural advantages to bring to bear against the other elites on the board— Fionn and Fleuri both had weaponry and skillsets better suited for area denial against the bestial hangers-on presented by the man with the bird and the man with the dogs. By process of elimination, that left him to deal with Miss Pale Unknown.

A very lucky thing that he had gotten quite, quite adept at keeping himself alive in the process of Finding Things Out in battle. A pair of the unarmored, grey-skinned men launched forward to cut off his advance— one was felled swiftly by a bolt from Rolan's crossbow raining down from high above, the other cut down mid-lunge by a quick line drawn from shoulder to hip. With a wrench of his wrist, a dark crescent of blood splattered onto the earth as it cast off the steel.

[color=goldenrod]"Shall we dance, madam?"[/color] he called across the field, pointing the tip of his now-clean sword at her seemingly-delicate form. He spoke as though neck-deep in a bit he was running, but one could doubtless rest assured that he didn't take her quite so lightly as to assume her appearance told all.[color=goldenrod]"We've all night to get to know eachother."[/color]

Times like these, it was only the mission that kept him from asking himself what the hell he was doing. 

First things first, he needed to know if these foes communicated— and if he was getting himself into a fight where her voice might carry arcane weight that demanded he silence it.