Fortunes Folly [Flynn, Duma, Don, Perun]

[Remus]

"Well. Guess it's up to us to collect the bounty now boys. Wouldn't you say?" Michael Shifted his shield over his shoulder by the strap as he walked over to the heavy wooden door that kept the tavern room firmly shut. The blade sheathed within shifted slightly with a metallic grating sound. He turned to look at the small group behind him before rolling his shoulders and tugging at the metal latch to open the door. "Everyone who isn't working off some half-baked debt, Sev, let's earn our keep. Mr. Morrison isn't gunna like being held up any longer, eh?" With a slight theatrical nod towards the ever-so-pleasant Sacaen swordsman who was standing broodily in the corner of the room, Michael turned to walk out of the tavern. Along side the raven haired plains-land swordmaster and himself were four others. Three assassins that had been in Morrison's employ almost as long as Michael himself had, and a burly man who probably sported a solid head and a half of height over them all and only liked to wield ax's heavy enough to cut a horse in half.

The others were somewhat slow to follow, but they couldn't deny the male. The shield toting sandy brown haired male waited patiently though. A small iron dagger danced in the morning sky as he juggled it casually with the single open hand. His other remained over his shoulder still keeping his shield slung over it. Sev was the first to approach. The man's brown traveling coat slung over his body hid the light blue Sacaen garb his tribe had often worn. No one could mistake the distinct features of his face though. He was a Sacaen pure blood through and through.

Next came Garth. The heavily muscled warrior was like an educated bear. A slightly shaved bear at that. Just as ugly too. Michael was glad to get a chance to fight with him again though. He was fun to watch, always flailing wildly and breaking things. The man's colossal curved Ax was known for the deadly strikes and it's ease at rending armor. ironically, he had more hear on his face in the form of a colossal grizzled beard than on his neatly shaven head. A man of few words just like Sev, though Michael suspected it was because he didn't know many words. Like most of the Ilian mercenaries who lived to an older age, he knew his way around a fight. Almost unmatched in drinking contests as well.

Then came two of the three assassins. Just like Morrisons favorites, these two were part of a "set" as the rich Ilian had referred to them. Two Sacaen brothers, which also made Michael realize that Morrison probably had a thing for Sacaen fighters, who had killed off their small little tribe. They didn't speak. Ever. Them, Michael could've done without. Sev was bad enough to deal with, but it was always a contest of silence. He could take or leave them really, but with their speed and stealth...well...him grabbing two kids and a priest unnoticed wasn't going to happen toting the giant shield and blade. So for once..they were useful to his little team.


Then there was Cain. An assassin from Lycia who had proven to be a damn good killer, and flat out fun to hunt bounties with. Michaels favorite by far. The man had a way with the daggers that he hadn't often seen before. It was like he had this knack for just..finding that special spot to make someone stop ticking. Even heavily armored targets hadn't taken much work. As if he had this magic eye. It helped that his blades were designed purely for the gruesome act of killing. he, unlike the other sword and dagger toting gits that had joined him, was also fun to talk with. Always had something witty to say.


As they made their way out of the run-down Tavern, Michael chimed in. It was early enough out that barely anyone in town was out, and the guards of the dingy little border town were desperate enough to accept the rather generous "donation" he'd given them to ensure they took a bit longer to rouse this day. After all, the guard worked hard. They needed rest too. He remembered the priest and the two kids well. He'd seen them clear enough back in Ilia with the brown haired woman.


It was just a matter of spotting them....


----------------------------

Remus stretched once more as another stifled yawn escaped him. The blue haired priest had gotten more sleep than usual. At four and a half hours, he felt over-rested. Maybe he was still tired though..? He couldn't tell. Even as he lifted a hand to comb fingers through his shaggy blue hair, he kept a gaze on Amelia while she moved about the lower dining room in the inn they'd been lingering. It wasn't much, but the niceties of them offering breakfast was well appreciated. Though the others who had chosen to accompany him were but a room away, no doubt waiting on the pair to join them so they could all return up to the room. Owain, luckily was still sleeping. Amelia however...well she had chosen to excitably wake the entire room up in the fantastic manner of attempting to cut an apple with Perun's ax..and though miraculously managed to lift it..had all but carved a gash into the wooden wall. Once Remus'es heart had stopped hammering and he managed to assert to Amelia that she should never use weapons to cut apples...or anything...or use weapons..He'd offered to take her to get breakfast so she could replace the apple ruined by being dropped on the floor.

The priest shifted his weight onto his left as he looked over towards Amelia, observing her while lightly resting his weight upon his healing stave. Amelia however was busy observing a somewhat remarkable *in a child's eye* blue bird that was hopping about on the middle of the dirt road. Her fascination with this small bird was clearly the only priority at the moment, and the sneaking suspicion entering Remus'es mind became fulfilled as the girl turned around to ask him as to if she could go out to try and play with it. While initial instinct was to say no, as per usual, Remus instantly buckled upon the girl looking up at him with eyes of pure excitement. In the end, all that truly mattered was Amelia and Owain were happy after all, to better draw them from their misfortunes.

As he walked into the small entrance lobby, and as Amelia ran out into the road, Remus took a moment to turn around and thank the Inn Keep for his kindness displayed to them thus far. It was the least he could do, even if no real signs of unusual kindness had been shown; him treating them no doubt as he would any customer. The jingling of the golden bell atop the door broke the quiet atmosphere as Amelia went out into the street with a giggle. Remus gave it twenty seconds of her trying to keep the bird from flying away, and half a minute more once it left before she came back in. This wasn't the first time a small wild animal had attracted her fancy. it probably wouldn't be the last.

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Michael had been letting the two twins lead the path. Even though he was the only one besides Sev to know what the Priest and the two kids looked like first hand, they were faster. He could easily call it out. Infact...as the ringing of a distant bell drew his attention, a lone girl with onyx black hair ran into the middle of the road. Given how she tried to stoop and crouch, and her groan of frustration as a small bird sped away; she'd likely been attempting to interact with it? Who knew. Kids were stupid after all. Either way..he knew that to be her. Michael murmured quietly enough to not be over-heard, but loud enough that the brothers could hear.

"That's the girl. Yugen, grab her."

The slightly taller of the two leaned forwards only to speed off. Barely garbed, and clad only in basics plus a few wrappings to hide him well enough that others wouldn't be able to identify him later, the man moved with light steps and long strides as he sprinted towards the idle child. The brief and short crunching sounds of dry dirt grinding away beneath his padded boots was just barely loud enough that as the man extended an arm to grab her she could turn around and muster a loud scream of fear. His other hand coiled around her mouth to muffle it as Yugen spun on his left foot and skidded to a halt before running back and returning to Michael's group of hunters. Though Amelia struggled and kicked, she could do little to improve her situation as the silent male handed her off to Michael, who again muffled her. The brown haired sell-sword turned to look at the building she'd come from, and spoke up to the group.

"Give it a moment. Either they'll come out for her..or we go in for them. Remember..The kids we take alive ..and anyone with blue hair that's male. Looks young at that. Otherwise? They fight, kill em."

Show time.


------------------

Remus recognized that voice immediately. His head darted around as Amelia screamed, and he stumbled over himself, almost falling in the process but recovering thanks to his staff as he saw a man cloaked in black grab her and run off. Widened eyes filled to the brim with concern as he felt his heart almost seize in terror. Vivid recollections of the incident in Ilia came to mind. It was...frighteningly similar. However again, as then, he was powerless. The slowly whitening priest ran to the door in a panic as he shouted out.

"Amelia!!!"

He turned out the door and skidded to a halt. He could see her, struggling and squirming in the arms of a brown haired man. He held a blade to her small frail looking figure, and around him were five men who all looked like they had killed atleast a dozen warriors. To Remus at-least, they were all terrifying. He held his staff cross diagnoally to his chest as he swallowed and attempted to steel himself. His eyes never left the terrified gaze of Amelia, who looked back pleadingly to the priest. With the five men standing between Remus and the man holding her at blade point, his mind frantically blurred in a panic filled storm of thoughts. He couldn't figure it out, and his desire to protect her was making his anxiety worse.

"Well Well...you put on quite a show in Sacae..and in Ilia I couldn't help but marvel at how you got away. A sneaky little rat aren't you? Well..let's end that today..shall we?"

[Donovan]

Donovan woke up that morning feeling better than he had in a long time. Sure a part of his muscles were still sore, but after almost 3 weeks of training under Duma, the mercenary had finally stopped noticing the pain, and had begun to notice the results. And getting to sleep in for the first time in weeks wasn’t too bad either. He’d gotten a full 7 hours of sleep since he was lucky enough to not pull night watch duty. Gods know it would’ve been a long, slow night had he been made to sit in a booth down in the tavern bar, making sure no one dangerous came in late at night.

He woke up for his now routine morning session with Duma. The pair had begun to spar more often than not these days, leaving poor bucket head out of a job for the most part. Donovan could really see a difference in his skill level. It wasn’t just that he’d become more powerful, it was that he was finally learning how to use that power to what it was fully capable of. Now he was able to use a blade in his shield arm, in an almost passable capacity, and his sword arm was more precise and ferocious than he ever thought possible. He still had a very long way to go before he could get to Duma’s level, but he knew he’d be able to hold his own against whatever threat presented itself to him next.

Once their training was over, they went inside and had a small bite to eat before the group would likely have to hit the road. Over a mouth full of food, Donovan turned toward his best friend and said, “Sho, Perun, How doesh i’ make ‘ou feel,” the mercenary swallowed his food as a bell rang at the door, worried that his unclear speech might make his friend not realize he was jesting, “that a little girl can lift your axe? Maybe time for an upgrade, old friend?” The mercenary clapped his friend on the back and laughed hardily. “Does this mean that she’s going to grow orange chest hair now? With such phenomenal strength at such a young age?” Suddenly, there was a scream. It sounded like a young girl, but Amelia and Owain were by the priest.

Turning to double check , he saw Owain sitting at the table, Kitchi at his feet waiting for scraps, but Amelia was no where to be seen. “Amelia!!!” The priest sprinted out the door and Donovan bolted out after him. The green clad mercenary stopped a foot behind his employer to see a whole band of men, one of whom wielded a sword pressed against Amelia’s neck. All of whom were far more skilled than Donovan.

That one with the Axe is a warrior, a capable one at that. The one in the back must be powerful if he actually uses that enormous shield in a real fight. One sword master that looks like he might be able to rival Duma, and three men with daggers who are wearing too flimsy an armor to be anything but assassins. None of us are gonna get out of here unwounded. Looking back at the small guard that had assembled to protect these children, Donovan realized just how outmatched they were. With only Perun and Duma in the same class as their enemies, the trio of mercenaries were not gonna be as capable at fighting those assassins. Their biggest advantage, was the skilled healer who’d brought them all together. If we don’t keep Remus safe, we might all be as good as dead.

[Perun]

Perun had spent the night waking from nightmares, and he was tired for it. He could barely keep his eyes open as he slowly, much slower than usual ate his breakfast. Breakfast this morning was a mush of apples and sugar, accented by whiskey from Bern, mixed together and served hot, which might have been Perun's favorite. It also included a few thin slices of ham cooked until they were black, and for Perun at least, a plate of biscuits piled as high as his head. Donovan always handled their payment, but Perun had always had an assumption about his own relationship with an employers COIN. Meals were included. As Perun lazily lifted a spoonful of the apple goop to his mouth, a clang sounded behind him. Perun turned and saw that it had been Amelia, trying to cut an apple with his axe. Perun shot out of his seat, and walked over to her and without being to forceful took his axe without a word. Later, when Remus was done with her, he would explain that the axe wasn't as simple as sword and spearmen made it out to be, and that you should only use a weapon that was a size you could use, or you could get yourself killed.

When he sat back down next to his friend, Donovan said something that Perun did not understand. For a moment, Perun thought that there were even more words he was going to have to learn in the common tongue. Then Donovan smiled, and made a jest about Amelia lifting his axe, and that he needed a new one. Perun laughed almost as heard as his friend, "Is just meaning people are knowing Perun has been telling lies with how heavy axe is! Orange hair doesn't make stronger Duno-ven, it is just helping." Then, Perun heard the same scream as all in their party.

Perun had the same reaction as Donovan, CHECKING where he thought the girl had gone, then looking outside. His younger friend was up a few moments before the Orange Giant, and Perun was not as nimble. He came outside to the same scene as all the others. However, he didn't stop. Sprinting past the others, Perun wrapped his left hand around his axe's haft just above his right, and took a swing in the middle of his run at the large man in the other party with an axe. He was a few inches taller than Perun, and actually looked almost Perun's strength. After Perun's swing, the large man barely managed to lift his axe to bat Perun's aside.

Perun yelled what weren't words in any language into the man's face. The man attempted to lift his axe in a swing, but Perun pressed him, pushing him back. After three swings the man gritted his teeth, and setting his left foot back, swung his massive axe. Perun was a massive man, but he was quick enough to dodge a blow given with such a clumsy weapon. He leaped back, and when not connecting with anything, the man's swing threw off his balance. Perun took his left hand and wrapped it around the shaft of the axe, and after only a brief fight, Perun solidly on his feet, the man not, ripped the weapon from his opponents grasp. Someone should have told the man, you should only use a weapon that was a size you could use, or you could get yourself killed.

Perun's blood was up, and a voice in the back of his mind told him that this group of kidnappers were handpicked. If they were, this man was clearly for him. He would prove that when you picked someone for Perun Volsungg of clan Volsungg, son of Hroth, you could not find a good enough man. Perun threw his own axe down, and threw his weight into the big man, going low. The two giants toppled to the ground.

[Duma]

The swordsman had finished cleaning up what was left of poor bucket head. His straw bits were stripped from his wooden frame and set aside in a small pile to be used for kindling later. As much as the children adored the broken training dummy, the poor thing was now broken to a point beyond repair. He set aside the bucket part of the dummy's head and put it in the wagon. He had enjoyed this little stop at the inn. The food was good and the atmosphere was pleasant. There wasn't any thick rolling for or mist that Bern was famous for at least not yet. Off in the distance he heard the chime of the door bell and from the corner of his eye he could see Amelia making her way out to chase yet another bird. Duma paid it no mind as this was a familiar sight for him at this point. Amelia was early to rise and usually found some manner of curiosity to wake them all up with her. Right on cue. He pulled his head into the wagon to look for something tiny that had rolled off onto the floor when he heard her scream.

Duma quickly pulled his head out of the wagon and turned to see her. Amelia in the arms of some stranger, kicking, and screaming for her life. He had no idea who these guys were, if they were random bandits, kidnappers, assassins, or slavers. Who ever they were they were about to feel the wrath of Duma's blade. The swordsman dropped everything into the cart and ran out towards them.

"Kidnappers!" He yelled, his sword in hand ready to strike. One man intercepted him, an assassin from the looks of it, one who seemed to have a bit of a grin on his face as he slashed at Duma with one of his daggers. Duma quickly blocked and took a step back. Great just what I needed, another competent assassin.

[Remus]

Michael felt the grin slowly growing onto his face as the blue haired worm made an appearance. Ahh..and here came his entourage. It was like watching a pack of mongrels crawl out for scraps when a butcher dumped the slops for the day. Yes...then there was the aggressive ones who tried to get first helpings. First the orange haired giant rushed Garth, surprisingly able to handle his own against the Ilian brute. Though Garth's bellowing roar soon split the sound of scuffling as Perun knocked him to the ground. The fury induced stupor soon transformed into a blistering rage as the burly Ilian warrior lashed out with the full brunt of his strength in an attempt to crash a heavy elbow against one of Perun's large shoulders; hoping to knock the man downwards and get a dangerous angle above him. Then there was the green haired bloke that came rushing towards them, blade drawn. Before anyone could really react to it, Cain had already rushed forwards and claimed the man as his next mark. With twin curved knives already piercing the air. Michael saw it then, a moment later.


Both Yugen and Mugen had moved forwards slightly. Each one had their hands tucked away, no doubt gripping the medium length assassination tools they implemented best. However, Michael didn't want them forgetting. They still had to grab the priest, and the other kid. Sev at-least hadn't jumped the fence. Then again....sacaens weren't known for that type of thing were they?

Michael whistled loudly as he hefted the dagger to the girl's neck. The combined two actions were enough to get his own men to remember their directions, though they also knew when to back out. He was hoping that the priests lapdogs would get the memo; because while he had no intention of hurting the girl...he was very good at making it look otherwise. He felt the girl trying to bite at his gloved hand which covered her mouth, though the tough hardened leather made that a pointless task. Still, guts for trying. He let the edge of the blade show a bit more, just to convey that if anyone in the priests group moved, the girl's neck would be cut. His grin as dangerous as the small knife as he spoke up.


If worse came to worse, they had an escape plan. He highly doubted they'd need it however. He spoke up as the bears wrestled, and Cain stared off with the swordsman. Michael didn't bother hiding it. He was here to kill.

"Sev. Yugen. Mugen. Don't forget the priest and the boy. Leave the guards to Cain and Garth."

As Michael spoke, Cain lunged towards the swordsman. Light on his feet, he darted while moving downwards and flourishing both daggers briefly to give the man's eyes a hard time pin-pointing his angle. The curved blades spun around swiftly as he crouched and lashed out in an attempt to strike at the man's knee, showing an intent to disable first before killing. Cain was probing him, gauging how skilled he was. His entire body poised however to evade retaliation.

As the pair fought, Sev stepped ahead of Yugen and Mugen. The two Sacaen assassins gazed towards him, before stepping back and closer to Michael. The brown haired Ilian looked to them for a moment, before shaking his head. No doubt some Sacaen pride rubbish or some honor thing about ganging up on one person. Gods, they were stupid. They could just team up on the orange haired giant, or the swordsman, and then the thin looking scruffy haired sheep-herder that looked like he was guarding the priest, grab the kid and priest; then be done with the damn job.

As Sev slid the slightly curved sacaen blade from his sheath, he walked in-between the space where the two men wrestled and the dual between Cain who danced about probing and testing his new prey. The raven haired Swordmaster let one hand rest on the sash around his waist, his blade extended to his right. His eyes darted back from the priest, to the scruffy haired man.


----------------------------------------

Remus didn't what he could do. Perun had rushed into one of the men and toppled him over. They were fighting and struggling about. One of them was fighting Duma. One was holding Amelia at knife point, and Remus never felt more power-less. He could only hope Flynn was still inside with Owain, and keeping him safe. Another had moved from the group and began to approach, drawing a blade that looked similar to Duma's blade, but somewhat thinner. It was dangerous. The priest's heart hammed so hard in his chest he was surprised the others couldn't hear it. The sound of rushed footsteps briefly averted his gaze as the other Ilian mercenary came sprinting out to a skidded halt beside Donovan. His blade was already drawn as he stood besides the mercenary between the Sacaen Swordmaster and Remus. He spoke with a somewhat baritone voice when he growled. "Flynn's with Owain. They are in the room. I'll stay out here."

Remus tried to calm down. The best he could do now was maintain the others good health. If he kept them healed...perhaps they could manage this. He tried to slow his breathing. He tried to calm himself. No one was hurt yet. If they did get hurt though...he'd be ready to aid them. That was something he could do. The only thing he could do.

[Donovan]

The green glad mercenary watched in frustration as his sword master and his closest friend charged head first into the battle. As angry as he was at them for not stopping to assess the situation, he was mad at himself for not having the strength or the skill to head straight into fighting with them. He needed to get stronger. So he could protect them from their rash behavior. If they’d only stopped for a moment to analyze their opponents, they’d see they should be playing a defensive game. After all, individually these were far strong opponents than Donovan had ever faced, and there were five of them.

The assassins who looked so similar that they must be brothers edged forwards slightly. But then the man holding Amelia hostage whistled at them, calling them off from their desire to attack. That was the man’s first mistake. He made it all too clear that he was the leader. Then he raised his dagger to the girl’s neck, showing off the blade and letting the sun reflect off of it to make it clear how willing he was to kill her. A little too clear. That was his second mistake. They had force enough to completely wipe out the small band of fighters, but they were holding back because he didn’t want to kill them. At least not all of them. At the very least, not the children. Donovan didn’t buy the leader’s show of force, not completely.

Probably slavers. Kids are valuable. Priest is too, if they can get him alive, since he wouldn’t be able to fight but he’d be able to heal. The mercenary thought for a second before leaning in to the priest and whispering with strong conviction only a lifetime’s worth of performing on the stage could muster, “Don’t worry about Amelia. I don’t think he’s actually planing to hurt her. Everything’s going to be alright.” Donovan wished he whole heartedly believed his words.

Perun and Duma would be fine as long as the 2 assassin’s didn’t interfere. The Ilian mercenary had finally joined them, letting them know that Flynn was inside with the boy. Then the man who Donovan believed to be a sword master, much like Duma stepped forward, staring intently at Donovan. It looked like the rest of the fight was about to begin. The only saving grace was that the 2 assassins were holding back. Most likely to try and grab Remus and Owain when the rest of them were occupied. And Donovan had been fighting a sword master twice a day for almost 2 weeks. He was no match for one, sure, but as long as the guy wasn’t at Duma’s level, he’d be able to hold him off until one of his more experienced friends got free.

“Remus, I need to you keep me healed, I’m about to get cut up. A lot. Carter, if you see an opening against this guy, take it. But I’ll take point. You’re primary job is to keep an eye on those two assassins. Don’t let them get Remus or we’ll all die, understand?”

The mercenary stepped forward, glad that he had his targe in this fight. He’d need it. Taking his defensive stance of sword-over-shield, he focused on the sword master’s shoulder and footwork. Duma had taught him that that was the best way to predict an opponents attack. It’ll be just like practice. He told himself, not believing the lie for a moment.

[Perun]

Perun was flipped on his back by a quick elbow move pulled by Garth. The two massive forms growled as the rolled and thrashed about on the ground. The man, on top of Perun now, tried to crush Perun's neck with his forearm. Perun bucked his knee up into the taller man's stomach, and tried once to rock the man over onto his back, unsuccessfully. The blow to the man's stomach had managed to get the man away from his throat, but not for long. The man tried to dig at the orange giant's eyes, but Perun thrust his head away from the man as hard as he could, attempting to protect his eyes.

As the man's left hand reached for a weak spot on Perun's face, he had dug his right hand into Perun's left shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Perun wrenched his head to his left, and after a second with his mouth open hovering over the man's index finger, bit down hard. The man screamed and pulled his hand away, Perun spit. The large Ilian tribesmen pushed the other off of him, and took his position atop their two man pile. He delivered three crushing blows to the man's face, swelling his left side. After his fist left the man's face the third time, Garth drove his leg into Perun's groin. Perun spun off of his enemy, but crawled away to avoid giving the man any advantage.

For a moment, the two giants looked at each other, panting. In a flash, they were at each other again, their hands clashing. The two put their feet back, the soles of their boots digging into the dirt as both men attempted to gain ground on the other.

[Duma]

Duma didn’t like this. The dark brown headed assassin he was dealing with, was skilled and experienced. Duma was starting to grow a minor distaste for fighting competent assassins. They were a test to his skill and dexterity. And Duma knew assassins needed just one good blow for them to plunge a dagger into something vital. Depending on the killer that vital thing could grant either death or crippling. To Duma, death would be mercy compared to being crippled.

The swordsman’s eyes narrowed slightly as the man’s attack. He twirled his blade around in his hands as a means to confuse Duma. But the swordsman was well versed in this sort of trick; he focused his gaze at the assassin’s arm rather than his hands. That would at least better determine where and how he would strike. As the man crouched down the angle shifted and Duma could tell that he was going for the legs. The swordsman blocked the strike perfectly as well as the follow up strike.

He then jumped back a bit to give them some distance. The assassin did the same. Of course he would. The voice in Duma’s head nagged. Duma took a quick moment to look around at his surroundings. The blur of orange that was Perun was wrestling another man to the ground. And Donny was occupied with another swordsman, a Sacean one he assumed simply looking at the man’s style of blade work. And Remus was a few feet behind him judging on the sound of his voice.

Focus on the target. The assassin lunged again poised to land some sort of blow on the swordsman. Duma braced himself, he was going to let himself take one hit. The dark haired assassin readied for a strike. In one swift motion the assassin attempted to cripple Duma again but the swordsman moved so the dagger came into his side. The pain was bad, but Duma had his opportunity. He grabbed the man by the shirt and slashed with his other hand. The dark haired one squirmed out of his grip and as a result the blow that should have killed him was turned into a non lethal strike. The assassin now had a fresh deep gash under his arm instead of one on his side going up to his chest like he wanted. Duma kicked him away before he could do more damage.

The swordsman groaned and held his bleeding side. He didn't want to shout Remus name and possibly give away any of their identities. He had no idea who or what these guys were and to whom they were affiliated with.

"Heal please!"

[Remus]

Remus observed as the events unfolded. His eyes darted swiftly between the dueling pairs. Perun and the other man were wrestling violently. Had he not seen it, he personally wouldn't have believed there was a man strong enough to physically match Perun. Then again, he wouldn't have believed that there was a man out there larger than Perun, or even at his own size. Keeping his staff poised, Remus also had a hard time fathoming that the assassin Duma fought was able to contest with him. He'd seen how fast Duma was. How agile he could move yet the deadly precision of his blades. That this group was able to then almost equally match them, truly frightened him. The approach of the raven haired swordsman concerned the priest even more. Carter and Donovan were poised between him however. Despite young Donovan's words, Remus wouldn't suppress the internal panic that came from a paternal instinct towards Amelia.

It was agonizing, to be powerless to help yet see her so close. The terror in her eyes filled him with a fire unknown to him prior to that point. Unlike the incident in the Ilian hotel where the man had abducted the two children only to be killed by Miss Nayru, he was not trailing behind trying to catch up. At this point, he could see her. He was able to see her in danger. It tortured him inside. He looked to her with a determined expression. However that was when his attention shifted as Duma called out to him. It figured. The single moment he looked away from the combat; someone was injured. Bitter, and quick to kick himself mentally for his lapse of attention, Remus responded swiftly. He lifted his staff into the air as he focused. His thoughts became unyielding as iron, his mental desire unshakable and reinforced by pure faith.

His staff pulsed with a blue warmth outwards. A light of deep lapis hued began to brightly shine outwards. The healing magic formed a sphere around the priest before condensing into a singular globe of soft blue light. He raised his staff and pointed it towards Duma, as the magic swirled and merged with the Swordmaster's body to heal his injury. Remus couldn't fight...but he certainly wouldn't be a by-stander.


--------------------

What was this? They were actually holding their own? Impressive! Most impressive. Michael shifted his poise. He slung the struggling girl over his shoulder some as the fighting grew more intense. It was obvious that his attempted poise of holding the girl hostage to get them to lower their arms wouldn't work. Not with two of his own invested. He continued to gaze towards the defenders before blinking as he saw Sev slowly unsheath the curved blade. The raven haired Swordmaster shifted his stance, flipping his blade upwards but holding the wepaon so it's tip pointed behind him and it ran along his hip backwards.

Sev's style was different. It focused on deadly long sweeping arcs, fueled by lethal speed to build up enough momentum in each blow to create a truly freighting combination. His first swing came towards the Ilian boy who was standing guard near the Priest. That however wouldn't stop the man from healing his wounded comrade who had just created some distance and-..

Heavens be damned, were his eyes right? Had the man managed to wound Cain? He didn't even know the bastard could bleed given his tenacity for evading attacks. Even so, the ringing of metal on metal came to join the sound of grunts and snarls as Sev found his blade blocked by one of the Ilian Mercenaries. Though he was fast, two enemies meant two sets of bodies to block. Michael felt a brief twinge of anger threaten to develop, forming into a palpable rage. He shook his head then after a moment, ever so clear once again. With Cain now attempting to stab at Duma's left knee with another low sweeping easily, and Garth wrestling the meat-head into a violent tumbling match.

This..was taking him longer than planned.

[Donovan]

Donovan kept his eyes locked forward on his enemywhile the rest of the battle raged on in his peripherals. He couldn’t tell much of who was winning what, but it didn’t matter to the silver tongued merc. He knew Perun couldn’t be beaten in a feat of strength and Duma wouldn’t be bested by anyone; the shame of defeat would kill him long before bleeding out could. The only person in the world for the green clad mercenary was the killing machine right in front of him. The Sacaen was dozens of times more dangerous than anyone or anything that the mercenary had ever faced before. Even when he heard Duma scream for a heal, the mercenary refused to take his eyes from the swordmaster, less he give the man an opening.

The Sacaen unsheathed his blade and slowly held it aloft, as if to advertise where he would swing it next. But Donovan knew better, Duma had taught him that old trick. If you can get your opponent to watch your sword, you’ll be able to throw them off and feint easily. He kept his eyes locked firmly on the man’s shoulders and readied his sword and shield.

Then the Sacaen attacked. He moved with a lightning speed, right past Donovan and towards Carter. The Ilian Mercenary managed to raise his sword quickly enough to deflect the first strike, and Donovan used the opportunity to swing swiftly at the sword master’s arm. Trying to sever his tendons. He missed, of course. Donovan’s opponent was simply too fast to be hit right out of the gate, but between the black haired merc and his Ilian ally, the Sacaen was kept largely on the defensive.

Strike. Blocked. Pierce. Parried. Sweep. Dodged. Everything that the pair threw at the sword master was expertly avoided. But Donovan was just relieved that, for the moment, he was able to predict some of the man’s attacks and not receive anything greater than a few minor lacerations on his chest or arms. He was desperately glad that it wasn’t a one on one fight, he knew he wouldn’t have lasted a minute if he were on his own.

He maintained a very efficient use of strength and movement, Duma’s warning ringing throughout his mind. The old, brawler technique that were quite handy at taking out bandit’s would be torn apart by anyone with real training, according to mullet head. So the black haired merc avoided anything flashy. Focusing mostly on cautious attacks, defending from any retaliations, and carefully timing his strikes with Carter to keep their opponent occupied. The efficiency of the Sacaen’s movements was remarkable. Part of Donovan felt like they were being toyed with.

A quick slash at Donovan’s arm cut deeper than he thought it would. All of the minor wounds were starting to add up, so he called out to Remus, “Carter and I could use a heal, here!” I hope those two finish off those black hearted killers soon! Carter and I will only be able to keep this up for so long.

[Duma]

The assassin went to deal with the swordsman's knee. As the healing magic passed through him, he felt restored. The wound was healed and Duma felt his pain lessen. He was able to block the assassin's sweeping motion with his blade. He retaliated with a vertical slice. The brown haired man jumped back to avoid it. Duma saw an opportunity. Rather then jump back and give himself some distance. Duma charged forward. As much as he enjoyed this duel he had against the assassin, Amelia was still in danger. He couldn't afford to dally any longer. The assassin braced himself for the sword master's impact. He held his arms up with his daggers in order to strike down the swordsman as he got close. The clang of steel upon steel resounded through the air. Duma kept the pressure on the assassin.

Duma gritted his teeth. He was in a bit of a power struggle with the assassin. Duma was trying to keep his weight on the assassin while the assassin was trying to push him off. They seemed to be evenly matched. Unfortunately for the assassin he was forced to keep both his arms up in the struggle while Duma was able to keep his blade held with one arm and keep pressure on with his shoulder.

"This has been a good match. Shame I must end it." Duma grabbed a throwing knife from his sleeve and threw it down to the assassin's leg. The asassin managed to push the swordmaster off of him. But Duma knew he had this man cornered. The assassin was injured in the leg, his movements would be slowed down. The brown haired man crouched down to try and tend to his wound. Duma took a small jump back, landed then charged forward again. The assassin quickly got up and tried to defend himself. Duma faked a high strike, the assassin raised his arms up to protect his face, but Duma quickly flipped his wrist and the blade hit the assassin in the gut. The sword sliced through the assassins flesh with ease Duma soon found himself behind the assassin. The brown haired man lay dead on the floor.

Duma was panting, that second run took a lot out of him. The green haired swordsman walked over to the recently deceased and made sure the man was dead. He began to root around through the body and saw something that caught his attention. The assassin had an interesting sword scabbard on him, Duma took the sword off of him and inspected it. The sword was unusually light and had a strange blue hue to it. He swung the new sword around the sound it made as it glided through the air was wonderful. Duma almost had it fly out of his hand with it being so light. Brave swords. I haven't seen one of these in ages. There was a grin on his face as he took the scabbard out of the dead man's belt and attached it to his own.

"Welcome to your new home, sword. We are going to bash the hell out of the rest of your former owners." He then turned his gaze out towards the man holding Amelia over his shoulder. He started to make his way towards the hero until, he was intercepted by a pair of assassins. OF COURSE IT'D BE MORE ASSASSINS! I'M REALLY STARTING TO HATE ASSASSINS.

[Perun]

Two mountains stood on a field of battle, running red with blood. The mountains were respectively the taller man Garth, and the shorter man Perun. They were almost equal in strength, however, Garth's height made their contest of strength an uphill battle for the orange giant. Gravity was doing half of Garth's work for him, with Perun having to push against the full weight of the man's upper body as well as the strength in his arms and legs. The man was leaning forward, looming over top of him, with Perun's hips hinged so that his shoulders hung over his knees, an uphill battle up a mountain was steep. When mountains move the earth shakes.

Garth was known by many as the Glacier due to his immense size, and Ilian heritage. The man's gaze could freeze the heart of a priest, and his jaw could be used as an anvil. He had entered his current line of work when Morrison saw him crush the throat of a man with his bare hands. In Elibe, there are not many freaks of nature, but the glacier was surely not a product of the same waters as any other man. Either of his nine hands with either five or four fingers was large enough to wrap itself around the neck of a man many could call large. They were not however, large enough for his opponents neck. When mountains move the earth shakes, and glaciers slide from the peaks crushing all as they come down.

Garth's opponent was Perun Volsungg, a man not as well known as the Glacier. He was however called something by the people of his valley, Thunderbolt. He was a mess, covered in blood and mud from thrashing against the ground in contest with the taller man. He was not used to being small, and had not seen a man this size since leaving his village. The man was strong, maybe stronger than Perun. However, Perun stood in Garth's way to killing Donovan. Garth stood in Perun's way to saving Amelia. Truth be told, both threw Perun into a rage hot enough to melt a glacier of any size. When a thunderbolt walks on the battlefield, mountains shake.

Perun's feet were being pushed through the mud without his body moving, so that the heels of his boots had scraped a smooth path as the orange giant slid backwards. Just out of the corner of his eye, Perun saw Amelia struggling against the leader of the bounty hunter's grip. Perun summoned what was left of his strength, and tried all at once to push the man back. The glacier slid forward, with Perun barely stopping the man's advantage for a split second. Perun's body began to shake, and his arms felt like the mush he'd eaten for breakfast. It felt like he was lifting a tree.

Still, Perun managed to find some strength. He had it left in spades, it was his mind. As he fought against the man so much bigger than he, his arms beginning to move now, he though of how easy it might be, to simply close his eyes. He could wrench his hands away, grab his axe and finish the man. He could lie down, and take the death he had deserved for so long. He could call for help from one of the gods he'd been raised to believe in, a thunderbolt could come crashing down from the sky to kill his enemy, just like in the story of the Perun he was named for, a myth told by the storytellers of all three villages in his home valley. He could lose. As his elbows almost touched behind his back, he knew he would.

“Carter and I could use a heal, here!”

The battlefield stood still. Through the racing thoughts in Perun's head, his best friend's voice broke through, strained from his injuries, calling for aid from the little priest. Perun, who had been sliding back in the mud, slowly but surely, suddenly stopped. A look of shock flickered in Garth's eyes.

After a few seconds of the two men locked against each other, still once more, Perun began to walk slowly forward. Garth was now sliding backwards, through those same little paths the other Ilian behemoth had made. He tried much like Perun had to push back, but did not even slow the orange giant whose speed only increased. By the time Garth's feet had begun to tear their own path along the ground, his elbows had begun to move behind his back, gravity's advantage being stripped from him. When his arms were too far back, he bellowed, his spit covering Perun's face.

A few seconds after the below, a few inches further through the mud and grass, and Perun's grip grew tight. The man had a new pain to yell over, as the bones in both his hands began to break. Perun roared with the man's cry, and threw his head back. The man was so far leaned back that Perun now stood over him, and the orange giant threw his forehead into the man's as hard as he could. Three times. Perun did not need a god's help. He was a Thunderbolt.

The man slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. Quickly Perun scrambled, and taking up the man's huge axe, lifted it high above his head, and brought it down on the man's throat. Perun put the axe over his head again, then threw it at one of the enemy men not in the fight, the one who looked like the other one. Before seeing if it connected, though with the size of the thing he knew it wouldn't, Perun collected his own axe, and then ran for the two of them, who appeared to be preparing to fight Duma. Without Duma Perun knew that Donovan, Remus, Owain, Amelia, Carter, and Flynn would all be killed by one of their enemies. As long as they could all stay alive, they'd have a chance to actually all stay alive. The orange giant took a broad swing at one assassin, once more staring his death in the face.

[Remus]

There was a brief silence. Michael looked on as he held the struggling girl, briefly inclining an eyebrow in surprise at the sudden deaths of Garth and Cain. That was when he felt the slight tug of it. Like an infants hands grasping at the pant legs of a parent, only to slowly grow stronger as the tugs became more dominant. This struggling child kept flailing. Cuffing his ear multiple times and kicking at his back. His irritation was slowly rising. As the swordsman rushed towards Yugen and Mugen, he hoisted the girl only to suddenly hit her in the side of her tiny head with his palm. The swift blow to her temple was enough to black her out. Her body went limp, and he shifted her off his shoulder and let her fall to the ground at his side. Now at-least, she wouldn't be going anywhere. However, he shifted his shield infront of him. Digits coiled around the crimson shaded blade hilt that lie sheathed within it. A pulsing rage threatened to over take him, a deep-rooted fury that he looked to the battle-field with a dark scowl. He waited however. There was a chance he wouldn't have to fight this trash. Hopefully Yugen and Mugen wouldn't be useless; and he counted on Sev to stay alive.

As Duma rushed towards the twins; both let the deadly blades flash from the hidden sheaths. Each twin moved in synchronous movements while spinning their blades swiftly between nimble fingers. In that brief moment, it looked as if each one planned to strike him simultaneously from the left and right. If it wasn't for timely interruption of Perun to distract Mugen, as he swiftly ducked and swung one leg to knock out the behemoth's feet from beneath him, Duma would have been forced to face the full might of the murderous twins alone. However with both twins divined into one on one fights, it became a much closer split to even. Yugen was swift to evade, similar to Cain in fighting style but far more quick to use murderous force in his blows.

Each moment that Sev's blade rang out in the metallic flurry of blows; it became obvious of the difference. That Carter and Donovan could fend him off was ultimately due to his honor as a Sacaen. His blows seemed just slow enough to parry or repel. As they began to accumulate wounds, Sev adjusted his fighting style to acclimate slower opponents. His eyes however never left his true target. The blue haired priest.

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Remus felt his heart jump for a moment. The sheer terror racing through him at the site of Amelia getting hit in the head and going limp briefly blanked all other distractions out. It was as if a frigid hand had abruptly seized his heart. No. Rationally. Think Rationally. He forced himself to calm down. A quick blow to the head wouldn't have killed her. Not at that spot, with that speed. He knew enough of the human body to know that. Remus snapped back to reality however as Donovan shouted for him and carter to be healed. Given the nature of their fight; Remus knew that he'd have to heal both at once. Lifting his staff into the air, the priest eased his eyes shut and focused. His staff's gemstone pulsed with a ruby shaded light before a colossal sphere of lapis energy bloomed out. It engulfed a large radius around Remus and began to mend both mercenaries wounds as the priest struggled to maintain it briefly before letting it out. He was panting softly, and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. Concentrated and focused group healing spells were far more draining, but he was getting much better at mending them. They were doing far better than he could have hoped; thus far.

[Donovan]

Donovan could tell that things were going to continue getting worse in this fight. The mercenary’s sword master had taken a nasty hit, his best friend was locked in a wrestling match to the death, with a man even larger than the Giant himself. If either of them fell, Donovan would not have to worry about how devastated he’d be. Because it wouldn’t be long after that that the entire group would be dead in front of that inn.

But then some remarkable things happened. Perun struck down the behemoth before beheading him with his own oversized axe. Duma’s throwing knife caught the assassin he’d been fighting in the leg, allowing him to easily get around the killer’s impossibly high speed. Then they were off, both of them at once to kill the remaining two assassins. Donovan knew that with the thunderous strength of Perun and lightning like speed of Duma together, those poor assassins wouldn’t stand a chance.

He and Carter kept up their offensive, the healing wave replenishing their ability to continue on and their friend’s success inspiring them to do their part. Donovan could tell that the sword master they were facing was merely toying with them. His attacks would slow down when they were wounded. He fed them easy to parry attacks, clearly beneath a master of his caliber. But Donovan was not so proud a man. Honor and “dignity” were nothing in the realm of survival. As long as this Sacaen was “honorable” enough to give the two mercenary’s a fair chance, Donovan would allow him to make the fool out of himself. Soon it would be a five on one fight, and even this Sacaen would fall to the might of this band. Donovan knew it would work out. He knew they could all make it out with their lives, at the very least.

[Duma]

The assassin moved quickly. He moved in a similar manner to the other assassin that Duma had just killed. The sword master gritted his teeth. Part of him was starting to have a vendetta against assassins. He could see the struggle between Donny, Carter, and the enemy sword-master. I need.. to help them. The sword man held onto his new sword and used it to defend. This new assassin wasn't afraid to use lethal blows, he didn't toy with his opponents like the other man. Duma could not afford to make any mistakes with this one. The assassin continued his assault. He was poking and prying with his twin blades in order to try and find any weaknesses in the swordsman's defenses. Duma was tired but not tired enough to have any lapse in judgement. Slowly, Duma maneuvered himself so he could get closer to Donny and the others. The brave sword almost danced in the air as it kept clashing against the assassins blades. With each hit Duma could see tiny weaknesses in the assassin's form. Weaknesses he can exploit. Yes. Just.. a bit more.

He slashed once with the blade then seized the opportunity of the movement. The assassin jumped back to avoid the hit, Duma stepped forward. He struck again due to the lightness of the brave sword, the blade tipped grazed the assassin, and gave him a cut. But Duma wasn't done, he channeled the power of his inner spirit, and did two more strikes. Two hidden strikes that would catch the assassin off guard. These hits were virtually unavoidable the assassin would wounded. The adrenaline coursing through his veins would limit the fatigue he felt from using Adept. But he was going to feel it later. All the fatigue was going to hit him like a ton of bricks once this battle was over. Despite the adrenaline he could feel pain in the muscles of arms and shoulders. He took a deep breath before yelling to Donovan.

"Donny switch!" He commanded. Suddenly, Duma charged forward and put himself in the sword master's path. Their swords clashed and rang out in the air.

"You who have been trained among the nomads. Come let us see who's style is better." He swung the blade upwards to give both sword masters some distance. Then Duma sheathed his brave sword and pulled out his Katana like iron sword. Both men now had similar swords thus evening the dueling ground between them. Duma's heart was pounding but he kept his face calm.