mariodb2000

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

Siris sees something strange in the woman's eyes, he couldn't understand what but it caught his attention. Although slightly irritated from seeing her attack his comrade after they helped her, she did also earned his respect by showing her resolution by attacking Iddin.

Siris: "Look, uhhh, woman. Your friend's deaths are unfortunate. However keep in mind one of ours died too. Balathu’s not coming back, and I'm sure Iddin and the others are suffering too. And yet he went out of his way to heal your friends before our own. "

With his usual irritating smile, he holds his sword tighter while speaking "If I was you, I'd make up for their deaths by becoming stronger. That way the next time you try to hit something, you can make sure you actually hit."

He looks up to see Iddin next to Balathu's lifeless corpse, the blood seeping from his corpse decreasing as time passes. Siris looks lost in thought for a moment before turning towards his other comrades

Siris: "See ya"

As he walks over to his other friend's melancholic faces, he notices a new nearby body on the ground.

Siris: "Hold up!? I see two bolts in him? No way, Zarif you bastard was it you again!!?"

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

With little else to focus on, Siris turns his attention to the loudest voice nearby.

He exhales through his nose as he approaches, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sheathed sword. The woman’s frantic efforts grow more desperate with every passing second.

The blood pooling beneath the bodies is thick, dark. Too much of it. Their faces were pale, Siris doesn’t even need to check for breath—he’s seen enough men die to recognize the stillness.

A glance to the side catches Iddin approaching from the distance, he must've retreated from the earlier fight. The thought of him running away pulls a small chuckle from Siris, potentially seen even by the healer himself as he got closer.

The sound isn’t lost on Ia. She snaps her tear-filled gaze up at him, anger twisting her features. Siris meets her glare without much thought or concern. Whether she misunderstood the chuckle or not doesn’t concern him, he still maintains his usual attitude.

"They look like good fighters, however, I'm sorry to say girl but unless our Iddin" Siris says with a headnod in the shaman's direction "found a way to resurrect the dead, this was their last battle."

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

Siris looks at Kurgazu load his crossbow, prepared to take the next bolt in exchange for ending his opponent's life. But before he can strike, heat surges from behind.

A roaring fireball hurtles past him, illuminating the battlefield in a sudden blaze of orange and red. It slams into Kurgazu with a violent whoomph. The bandit's screams tear through the air, his desperate curses swallowed by the crackling inferno. He flails, stumbles—burns.

"Damn it! DAMN IT!"

The fire consumes him before he can beg or curse again. His charred body collapses, smoke rising in thick plumes.

Siris doesn't flinch, but his jaw clenches. His sword lowers slightly.

He doesn’t turn to Ashür. He doesn’t say anything. On the battlefield it's first come first served, but still, a flicker of irritation lingers in Siris’ chest. He wanted to end Kurgazu himself. The bastard deserved to see his fate coming.

But it’s done.

With a slow breath, Siris sheathes his sword and turns away, trying to walk seemingly lighthearted as he walks toward Balathu’s body.

The bridge is slick with blood. The river below carries it away in thin crimson streaks, indifferent as ever.

Siris kneels beside Balathu, checking for any sign of life, but the man lies still. Siris’ gaze lingers on Balathu’s bloodied form before instinctively glancing down at himself—cuts on his leg and chest, burnt upper body, a crossbow bolt still buried in his side.

Siris: "I guess we both got a pretty brutal treatment in this fight huh Balathu" he says with a small laugh.

Siris crouches beside him, resting one hand lightly on Balathu’s bloodied armor.

They had fought together many times. More importantly held the frontline side by side, covered each other's backs in situations too dangerous for others. Siris was definitely closer to him than many other Hellions, despite the lack of communication from the latter.

And now?

Siris figured he'd have to just do that by himself from now on.

He forms a fist with his hand and light taps Balathu's chest with a slight smile.

Siris: "You're a strong warrior Balathu, I'll remember that strength, rest now" he says in a quite enough voice to try not to be heard by others.

He then picks up Balathu's spear and lays it across Balathu’s chest. A small gesture, maybe, but it felt right for a warrior he personally respected.

After one last look at his comrade, Siris exhales, straightens his back, and rolls his shoulders as if shaking off the moment. His fingers twitch slightly before he forces them to relax.

He turns, stepping away from Balathu with a lightness that doesn't quite reach his chest, contrary to the small smile still on his lips. As he nears the others, he cracks his neck and stretches, like just another mercenary shaking off the dust of battle.

Like it doesn’t bother him.

Like it never did.

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

Siris' grip tightens on his dagger as the scene unfolds in front of him, completely ignoring Makeen's comment.

Balathu—tough as ever—cuts down the horseman in a single brutal stroke, sending the armored rider crumpling to the ground. The man had barely hit the dirt before the crossbow bolt came.

There's a sharp whistle as it flies through the air.

Balathu stiffens, staggering slightly. For a moment, Siris thinks the bastard might just walk it off. He’s seen him fight through worse. But then Balathu falls, the blood spilling from the bridge and into the river below.

Siris doesn’t need to look to know where the shot came from—he already felt it. Felt the smugness radiating from the bastard standing right next to him.

"Stupid mercs, stupid BASTARD mercs! You always get in the way!!!"

Kurgazu doesn’t even turn to acknowledge him.

Not an insult. Not a challenge. Not even a glance. He killed Balathu in front of him, ignoring Siris as if he was a wandering ant.

Siris’ heartbeat slows. A strange, quiet fury takes hold of him. He tells himself there's no point in getting angry at Balathu's death. After all he's seen men die dishonorably, shot in the back, butchered like cattle, insulted as they died, but never like this. Never where the enemy didn’t even bother looking at him. This lowly bandit killed and insulted his comrade right in front of him and wasn't even worried. A myriad of emotions swells in Siris, all of it, focused on one man.

Kurgazu turned his back to him. To him.

A mistake.

Siris sheathes his dagger and rips his sword from its scabbard in a single, fluid motion. His shield comes up, bracing against his still burned arm, the leather straps pressing against raw skin. The pain is distant, drowned out beneath the weight of cold rage.

His first attack is not theatrical. It’s not graceful. It’s fast, ruthless, and direct.

He lunges, slamming the edge of his shield into Kurgazu’s ribs with bone-cracking force. The bandit stumbles, his cocky smirk vanishing as the air is knocked out of him. Siris however doesn’t give him the chance to recover.

His sword carves into Kurgazu’s side, slicing through the bandit’s leather armor with brutal precision. A howl of pain erupts from his throat as he staggers backward, crimson soaking his tunic.

Kurgazu, panicked and desperate, jerks his crossbow up. There’s no space to aim, no time to think—just a frantic shot.

The bolt slams into Siris’ side. Siris barely flinches.

He steps forward, ignoring the blood from his wound starting to flow down towards his leg.

Kurgazu’s eyes widen. He tries to raise his crossbow again, but Siris is already moving, swinging his blade in a savage arc with a yell.

The sword tears across Kurgazu’s chest, splitting through cloth and flesh. The bandit cries out, stumbling back, barely clinging to his weapon.

Siris exhales through gritted teeth. He should have cut him down then and there. Should have left him bleeding in the dirt like the coward he was. But surprisingly the bastard still stands. He was tougher than Siris thought.

"You're looking at me now," Siris says, his voice low, but a smirk slowly appears on his face. "Too damn late for that, isn’t it?"

His sword drips with Kurgazu’s blood. His shield is raised. He’s ready to finish this.

_{Siris switches to his Bronze Short Sword and Heater shield, he then hits Kurgazu twice for 18 damage and is countered once taking 8 damage.}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

The dust around Siris stings his eye, but he doesn’t wipe it away. Instead, he fixes his gaze on Zarif, who’s seemingly sprinting in retreat.

Zarif has already dispatched one enemy, but the rest of the mounted soldiers were closing in. Siris narrows his eyes, gripping a dagger in his hand and removing the shield from his back and adjusting it onto his arm. He couldn't help but thinking to himself that against all that reach and movement that those lance horsemen had, he needed to focus on his speed and defense as much as possible if had any possibility of surviving his next idea.

"Zarif!" Siris yells, his voice cutting through the sounds of galloping horses. "What are you doing?!"

"Is a little blood all it takes for you to run?" Siris laughs, hurting his injured body, but trying not to show it. He raises a finger, wagging it mockingly. He gestures toward the remaining enemies. "Slay at least one more. Unless you’re content counting coins and would prefer letting me have all the glory—again."

Before receiving a response and with no further words, Siris turns on his heel.
He bolts toward the group of mounted soldiers alone, his wounded leg slowing him only slightly.

One of the horsemen spots Siris and charges, lowering a spear in his direction. Siris doesn’t stop. Instead, he shifts his weight mid-run and, with precise aim, hurls his dagger. The blade whirls through the air, embedding itself in the rider’s side.

The man wobbles in the saddle, his balance faltering, but he doesn’t fall. Siris doesn’t wait, he closes the distance in a heartbeat. Using the momentum of his sprint, he leaps into the air, drawing a second dagger with a reverse grip from his belt before the enemy can think about attacking.

The blade flashes for an instant as Siris slashes across the rider’s chest.
Blood sprays, but the man grits his teeth and remains upright, refusing to go down. Siris lands on the ground with a thud, rolling to absorb the impact before springing to his feet.

"Not bad, stubborn bastard" Siris already adjusting his stance. He raises his shield, ready for the remaining enemies to attack.

_{Siris moves 4 spaces to J28, switches to his Bronze Throwing Knife and Heater shield, and then hitting Lance Cavalier #3 twice for 14 damage}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

The enemies on the bridge seemed to have been mostly defeated by Siris's other allies, his underestimation of the river's flow causing his tardy arrival. The sole remaining enemy giving him not interest whatsoever in aiding his allies. However, as he stepped foot on land again he noticed the large amount of warrior's approaching Zarif. He doubted the merchant's capabilities at facing 5 enemies at once.

Siris: "Zarif damn you! Using a horse is cheating, lead them this way so we can have a fair competition!"

_{Siris moves 3 spaces to L26}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

_{Siris moves 1 space to L23}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

Seeing the squadron of enemies approaching his comrades, Siris decides to lend a hand rather than just wait on the sidelines.

Siris: "Nice kill, for a Merchant! It'll take us too long to get around though! You go on ahead Zarif, I'll try to cross through the river!"

_{Siris moves 3 spaces to L22}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

_{Siris moves 5 spaces to I22}

The Dweomer of Akkad - [ A Fire Emblem-like RPG! ]

_{Siris moves 6 spaces to I17 and equips his throwing knives}