Mitra frowned, crossing her arms as Jax spoke. Perhaps requesting she be allowed to finish off the bandit had been irrational, but it wasn’t as if she had done it without reason, and her presence certainly hadn’t prolonged the battle. However, her attitude shifted from indignant to troubled as she mulled over the scenario once again. Asking to kill someone probably wasn’t what one would consider appropriate conduct, and the knight had his own demons to contend with. Before she could follow this train of thought further, Mitra was stirred from her musings by Amelia’s voice.

“Toby is somewhere in this village. We cannot let these bandits burn this village down.”

“Awaiting your command. Point me in a direction and I’ll crush any of your foes that appear in my way.” Affirmed Jax.

Shaking the fog from her mind, Mitra chimed in as well. “The bulk of the enemy force will likely be near the center of the village. We should head that way...” The reaver trailed off as her eyes fell on Amelia, some of her wounds still plainly visible. She slowly twisted her head around to face Barrett.

After he finally fell, Helle looked down at the lancer's body for a moment. Though her blow was not impressive by any means, it had gotten the job done. Now that he was dealt with, she needed to find the archer that had been shooting from afar.

As if on cue, Helle heard the distinctive sound of an arrow thudding into wood. A quick glance over told her that the archer's new target was the stranger who'd rescued--or tried to rescue--the archer boy. Neither seemed in any great danger. Satisfied that there was nothing more urgent to be done, Helle left the lancer behind and ran towards where she figured the archer was located.

"The name's Herlewin" Jahan heard from the man that got him into this tree, while he gave Jahan the same look his master gave him that one time when he missed a shot so badly, he hit a bird that he hadn't even seen, instead of a grounded target. After Herlewin said that he was saving his life, Jahan figured that he could trust him... as if he had much choice, considering the state of his leg. As the man took Jahan's leg, Jahan winced in pain. "The first injury must be the worst, dear gosh... He thought. Jahan figured that Herlewin knew what he was doing with the whole bleeding thing, so Jahan kept quiet, waiting for when the pain would end. Then Herlewin asked if he had anything to wrap his leg with. "REALLY? YOU HAVE NOTHING, AND YOU WANTED TO SAVE MY LIFE?! Jahan thought angrily. Of course, he couldn't say that out loud. The man already gave him a look that made him feel bad, and he did nothing wrong.

"Older people are good at making me feel bad" Jahan thought. Plus, the archer girl was still somewhere, probably about to target the Torbican woman he helped. "Uh, no, but I have some bandages" Jahan responded. He always tried to keep bandages on him, just in case he found himself scraping his knee or getting shot in the leg, normal stuff like that. Jahan took off his hat, expecting Herlewin to give him a weird look. There he found one of his bandages and gave it to Herlewin. "Here you go, I gue-" Before Jahan could finish his statement, an arrow whirled past Herlewin's shoulder.

That darn archer girl was still at it.

"Her..." Jahan mumbled with the rage of a diseased dog. Jahan was tempted to get out his bow and start shooting. Problem was that Jahan still had a bleeding leg he had to attend to, and shooting someone and probably missing isn't helping him not bleed out. "Looks like I'm just gonna have to deal with possibly getting shot in the face..." Jahan thought, while giving Herlewin another one of his bandages in case he needed it.

It was when the boy took off his green bycoket that Herlewin first realized just how distinctive the young archer’s outfit was. Was this kid seriously wearing a red cloak paired with a green hat? That in and of itself was indication of an audacious sense of style, but topping it all off with blue boots and trousers was all but unheard of. Not surprising that his leg had been singled out for target practice. Where did he even get blue boots?

As Herlewin took the bandage from the boy’s hands, a sharp pain in his shoulder and a loud thwack in his ear snapped him out of his fashion-induced reverie. He glanced towards the tree’s trunk. An arrow that was definitely not there before had embedded itself into the bark, and judging by the angle it was at, the missile had passed dangerously close to his head. Yikes. He felt a mixture of both fear and frustration come over him as he realized that he and his patient’s newfound height had done little to impede the archer girl’s obnoxious range advantage. Thankfully, it looked like the tree’s leaves were at least hindering her accuracy, but if she could still reach them up here, they were as good as sitting ducks. He needed to hurry.

“Aight, change in plans. This is going to hurt.” Herlewin said, running his fingers along the arrow in his patient's leg, feeling for the metal tip. Steadying his grip on the wooden rod, he pulled the entire arrow out in one swift motion and set it down on the tree limb. The boy’s leggings were finally unpinned, and the acrobat could now access the wound directly. Not waiting for the youth’s reaction, he quickly rolled the fabric up to the point the arrow had pierced and firmly pressed the bandage onto the gash. He waited a moment, ensuring that the worst of the bleeding had stopped before taking the youth’s hands and placing them on the bandage. “Keep it pressed, and for the light’s sake don’t try ‘n climb down ‘til I get back.”

“Now!” Herlewin cleared his throat, taking the bloodied arrow back into his right hand. “You’ve borrowed this long enough, I’m afraid. It’ll be returning to its owner now.”
Plucking the grappling hook from the tree limb, he once again set it to his bow. It was time to show that archer girl just who she was dealing with.

Unfortunately, the number of nearby grappling points that would lead Herlewin directly towards his target was rather close to zero. Fortunately, however, it appeared that the Torbican woman below had won her duel with the lancer and was now heading in the direction of the enemy archer. If the Torbican could manage to scare the archer off, the latter would likely run away… and pass by another tree further down.

Setting his sights on the second-highest limb of said tree, Herlewin let his grappling hook fly. He waited for the hook to secure itself properly before leaping this time - what he was about to do was even more dangerous than the last leap - and promptly jumped. Transitioning his grip on the rope from his arms to his legs, the acrobat’s body flipped upside down as gravity began doing its work. Once again soaring through the air, he knocked the arrow to his bow. If he had timed everything correctly, he’d catch the bandit archer off guard and have a perfect shot once he swung passed the tree trunk. He wasn’t aiming for the bandit herself, of course. He was aiming for her bowstring.

Rich! The girl was rich! She had practically stated it outright! Hah!

Barrett couldn’t help but smile. He trusted his conman’s intuition. Rare was the occasion on which it had failed him. But this time, aided by a swift kick in the pants courtesy of the iron-toed boot of revenge, not only had it already netted him a tidy profit, it had led him to a veritable gold mine. It seemed as though getting out of his tree today would be worthwhile after all.

The cleric nodded slowly throughout the rest of Amelia’s reprimand, staring at her passed half-closed lids. She was a pitiable creature, really, and frankly, mildly aggravating. Grasping at any shred of control she could find in this miserable situation, pretending as though she held even the slightest authority. Did she not realize that he could just as easily have caused her death as saved her life? Swords and axes did the world’s dirty work, certainly, but those at the end of the pommel were just as mortal as those at the end of the point. It was Barrett who made them anything more. It was by his will that new blood flowed through empty veins, filled the hearts of the desperate and dying. Where two parties clashed, he decided the victor. Him, not her. He would make certain that she remembered that.

Even so, there was nothing wrong with playing along. It would be a simple game, but immensely profitable. Ensure the maximum degree of injury to his new allies while only barely fending off their death, mend them from the brink and reap the generous rewards. Likely as not, it would even be fun. After all, if the sides turned out to be mismatched, he would be there to lend a hand to whoever was struggling to keep pace. Truly, to heal was as beautiful and noble a calling as ever there was.

Barrett trailed behind his new patron, a few meters distance between them. He was struggling to hide his grin, and it was hurting his cheeks. He hadn’t been this excited since he was a boy. A puppet show for the ages, and him pulling the strings. What a gas. He would have to write a song about it.

The smirk that had seemingly set up permanent residence on Barrett’s visage all but evaporated when his least favourite hatchet harpie came into view. It was surprisingly easy to forget exactly how scary she was up close, but the terrifying expression with which she now fixed him had jogged his memory just fine. The walking mountain was there two, blood dripping from his axe. What a way to welcome the hero that had saved their leader’s life. Ingrates.

Barrett paused, still some yards removed from the trio. He had no desire to enter an irate reaver’s effective throwing range. Instead, he answered her silent question with a smile, a wave, and a bow. He looked up and caught her eyes again, still locked on him, and gave her a knowing look as he rubbed his thumb over the tips of his middle finger and index. She would understand.

Alborz was extremely satisfied with how his attack landed. The bandit's sudden vigor surprised Alborz. As the criminal ran across Ignavus it did nothing but anger the mount. As soon as the Bandit landed behind the wyvern, Ignavus spun around and jumped at the man with his claws and teeth gnashing at the bandit. Ignavus launched his attack with intent to pin and finish off the weakened arsonist.

Without breaking off her gaze, Mitra reached into her sash and retrieved a small bottle, then casually tossed it to Amelia. Afterward, she spun around and stalked off toward the village center without so much as a word.

Catching the bottle with one hand, Amelia gratefully nodded at her very frustrated compatriot as she yanked the cork from the bottle with her teeth and drank its contents. She half-smiled at Mitra’s present mood, she had a very valid reason for being discontent, as the louse had now attached itself to their party much like the parasite that he was, (at her invitation no less). In her eyes however, they had no other choice, they would need a healer to support them in her quest for finding her brother. They were so very close; it was almost as if she could feel him in the village.

In no time, she felt a warming sensation in her stomach from the vulnerary as it reacted with her body. She felt a warming sensation flow through her body, and watched as minor nicks and bruises faded from her body as she was healed. Fully restored, the princess was ready to continue her campaign with zeal.

“Follow Mitra!” she commanded as she unsheathed her sword and followed her ally into the centre of the village.

Amelia: 42/42
Mitra: 42/42
Jax: 30/42
Barrett: 40/40

Mitra – Movement
Amelia – Vulnerary +20 recovered
Jax – Parley
Barret – Parley



Biting the bandit, the enemy reaver howled in pain as the wyvern’s teeth sunk into his shoulder. There was a crunching sound as the wyvern’s teeth managed to break bones, and blood poured from the teeth punctures as the bandit was flung like a ragdoll. The bandit fell onto the ground, lifeless.

Alborz: 53/62
-------------------------
Enemy Reaver: Dead

Ignavus – Wyvern Bite – 15 Damage



Herlewin soared gracefully through the air, and his focus was true; fate, however, was not on his side. There was a loud “CRACK!” that could be heard coming from the tree to which the grapple had been attached, as the branch suddenly gave way to the weight of the boy. He fell to the ground, only saved due to his acrobatic reflexes.

In the meantime, Helle had begun to approach the enemy archer, closing the distance between her and the enemy with her sword drawn. The noise from their battle, however, had alerted another archer who had been up the path in the other direction. Taking advantage of her lack of attention he spun his arrow before drawing back his bow sharply, his eyes narrowed as he loosed the arrow. The arrow struck her in the back of her arm, fortunately her armour taking most of the damage.

The female archer fired upon Herlewin while he was down, taking advantage of his misfortune. The arrow flew through the air and hit his thigh. Although the pain rushed through his body, Herlewin was still much closer than he had been before, the bandit archer did not realize that she had left herself open for the opportunity of a counter attack.

The scene had played out before Amelia, Mitra, Jax and Barrett just as they entered the marketplace. Although there had been great devastation, with the destroyed stalls and a few of the small huts burned to the ground, the casualties of the civilians seemed much lower than what they would have initially assumed. Watching as Helle ran after the female enemy archer, they were a short distance away from the other archer who had fired on her while the warrior-maiden’s back was turned.

Herlewin: 26/41
Helle: 32/42
Jahan: 17/20

Herlewin – Blunder! 10 damage to self //Available Counter
Helle – Movement
Jahan – Bandage +2 Recovered
Enemy Archer – Hit! 3 damage
Enemy Archer – Critical! 1 damage


GM: Something I’ve noticed that I think I might want to change. The triangle of auxiliary-magic-melee seems a bit excessive/unnecessary, probably going to remove it by the next skirmish. Leave thoughts in the chat or OOC? ^.^

Vulnerary recovery value subject to change. (FYI Tonic heals +10, Bandages +2 but boosts to + 5 if with other healing item)

Also, kills are now worth 10 exp or 5 exp for promoted folk.

Herlewin was once again soaring through the air, yes, but something felt off this time; he kept anticipating the sudden tug from the rope growing taut, but it never came. As the ground grew uncomfortably close, the sound of shattering wood loudly answered his silent question. The branch had snapped. Desperate, the acrobat dropped his bow and flailed his limbs in an attempt to flip right side up, but it was far too late to transition into proper landing posture. He managed to ensure that his head didn’t bear the brunt of the impact by straining his arms towards the earth and using them as a fulcrum, but landing was going to hurt no matter which way he sliced it. With nowhere to go but down, Herlewin’s back unsympathetically hammered itself into the ground.

If he was potentially a sitting duck before, the boy was definitely a sitting duck now. He could only lay and watch as the female archer mercilessly knocked an arrow to her bow and let it loose, unrelenting, implacable. The wooden missile imbedded itself into his leg’s flesh, adding its piercing high notes to the rhapsody of pain already throbbing its way through his body. Though the arrow hurt surprisingly little compared to the impact from his fall, the combined pain of both injuries pushed the acrobat to the edge of tears. Herlewin began to realize just how far out of his depth this whole ordeal was. He wasn’t a fighter. He’d never even shot anyone before. What was he trying to do? He couldn’t save the village; he couldn’t even save himself. Sure, he had scooped that boy up into a tree, but the youth was probably going to climb out and have a fall of his own before the performer could spare a moment to help him down. Come to think of it, Herlewin himself should have been dead by now; he’d only been saved by the female archer’s ghastly aim and apparent her inability to hit anything smaller than the legs. Backed into a corner by a conscience that wouldn’t allow him to run and an enemy that wouldn’t allow him a moment’s repose, Herlewin resorted to that which he had relied on all his life: theatrics. The show would go on, whether it spared the entertainer’s life in its wake or not.

Clasping his teeth together to keep from crying out in pain, the boy swept out his arm to reach for the bow and arrow he had abandoned in his fall. Weapon in hand, he gracefully stood, suppressing the agony tearing through limbs just as he had suppressed his stage fright so many times before. Upon standing up, he realized that his tree-swinging antics had - for all their shortcomings - landed him far closer to the enemy archer than he would have guessed. If he could manage to stall for just a moment, the boy would have time to use more than the single arrow he was holding. He could handle this.

Herlewin looked the female archer in the eye before addressing her directly; “Mademoiselle, you’re too kind, far too kind.” He bent over and, as dramatically as one possibly could, grasped the wooden shaft in his leg with his off hand. He continued his speech. “And the undying attention of one such as ye blarneys me to no end.” Herlewin didn’t really know what mademoiselle or blarney meant or even if he had employed the terms correctly, but his mentor had taught him to incorporate them into his talk when addressing a female audience member. His leg hurt.
“I believe, mademoiselle, that you’re all too generous with these…”

The performer took a large breath and tensed his grip on the arrow. He had done this once before back in the tree, how bad could it be? He started the motion and, whether from a surplus of adrenaline, a misplaced sense of recklessness or simply a lack of knowledge regarding the proper treatment of arrow wounds, pulled through. Or out, rather. The point was, there was now another arrow in his hand and a terribly mutilated gash on his thigh.

The acrobat had planned on finishing his speech with a zesty zinger, but he knew that even slightly lessening his jaw’s deathgrip on his teeth would let loose a scream the likes of which would dwarf even the blood-curdler that had started this whole mess. His leg hurt. Blood was probably pouring down his shin by now, but he didn’t dare look down for fear of the sight weakening his resolve. It was do or die from here on out.

Fractions of a second after having pulled the shaft from his limb, Herlewin began a full sprint, drawing on the final few droplets of willpower that he could muster. He ran towards the tree that had failed him before, hoping against hope that it would serve his purpose this time around. Once near the trunk, the acrobat kicked his injured leg up onto the bark, lifting off from the ground with his healthy limb and, once airborne, pushing it against the tree in order to flip himself up and over the enemy archer. Flying above his target, he set both salvaged arrows to his string at once, aiming the first at the archer’s left hand and the second at the archer’s right. He didn’t trust himself to aim for her bowstring after his luck with the grappling hook, but he figured he could at least slow down the archer’s rate of fire if he placed a shaft in each of her hands. The momentum from his flip turned his face away from the archer once he set his arrows loose, leaving him unable to see if he had finally helped the villagers as he stuck the landing.

And Round 2 went to Barrett. The devious cleric smiled. Rather than bargain again, Battle axe had walked away, electing to use a valuable healing potion to mend her friend’s few minor scratches. Perfect; that meant they would need him later. This was going splendidly.

Barrett followed the trio - now a quartet, whether any of its members appreciated that fact or not - en route to the village. He was careful to stand behind the wall of armour as they neared the sounds of conflict, for it seemed the most advantageous position. He would be safe from the front, should they encounter any more ruffians, and by the same token he would not have to contend with the imposing mound of steel if the course of action necessary to ensure his own survival turned out to be a hasty, permanent retreat.

Even as they entered the chaotic village center, Barrett could not help but notice the pleasant aroma. There was something special about burning pine that lent a certain magical quality to the air. It was truly lovely. Lifting his eyes from the horizon to glance at the tall trees that decorated the village, Barrett imagined how pleasant it would be to rest among their branches, once this ordeal was over with.

*tink*

The cleric did a double take as a grappling hook shot through his field of vision and wrapped itself around the branch that he had been contemplating. Caught utterly off guard, Barrett followed the connected rope back to its point of origin and gazed in morbid fascination at the spectacle that ensued. The hook had been shot from the bow of a boy standing high amongst the branches of an oak across the square. The fool readied himself, and without so much as a check to ensure that his rope would hold, lept from the tree upside down, secured by naught but his own feet. He knocked an arrow to his bow mid-flight, and Barrett poked his head out from behind his bodyguard to steal a glance at what - or who - this madman of a marksman was aiming for. It was a lady standing several meters away, and from the look of her and the bow she held Barrett guessed that she was allied with the poor saps that his new companions had liquidated back in the field. It all fit together. Attacking bandits, daring deeds. The idiot kid was trying to be a hero.

Barrett turned his head back to the flying wonder just in time to play onlooker to the greatest comedy that he had witnessed since the time he had met that supposedly flame-retardant hairy monk. A loud crack echoed across the village, and the familiar sounds of a branch hurtling against its brethren as the earth beckoned it near soon followed. The boy, his planned graceful arc turned to helpless freefall, was going to die. ‘Twas a sad thing, yes, but it wasn’t as though Barrett could prevent his untimely demise by healing him before he hit the ground, even if he somehow managed to reach him in time. And after the human missile had made impact, there would be no saving him. The bushman was no miracle worker. There was, quite simply, nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the show. At the very least, it was an amusing way to go ou-

Ooh.

By means of some last-minute mid air maneuvering, the boy had managed to break his fall without breaking his neck - if only just barely. He lay there for a moment, clearly dazed, but alive, nonetheless. And then, in a moment of punctuation divinely inspired, an arrow pierced his thigh. Clearly, this welp had been borne under a shadow. “Curses eclipsed, boy,” muttered the cleric, scratching at his wispy beard. “What terrible luck.” Still, his suffering had made at least one person smile, so in the end the failed daredevil could chalk his foolishness up to a noble act of charity. That probably counted for something with the powers that be.

Shockingly, however, the kid had not let on to the terrible pain that he must have been feeling. On the contrary, he was... up on his feet, addressing his adversary like a showman? This transcended amusing; it was hilarity incarnate. Barrett’s head flipped back as he let out a kind of throaty screeching sound that might have passed for the creaking of an oak whipped to and fro by a ravaging storm, provided the oak had also been trying to play a violent jig on its fiddle. He was laughing, of course, and this outburst was followed shortly by an improvised ditty.

Flyboy fallin’ hits the ground, he ain’t no air combatant
For I ‘ave seen a sack of beans in which was twice the talent
He makes a show of courage ‘cause he’s tryin’ to be brave
But little bird is on the verge o’ diggin’ ‘is own grave

Helle steadily made her way towards the archer that had been pestering her for so long, lips drawn back to make a determined grimace. She allowed herself a quick glance to find that the loud noise she heard was archer boy's rescuer somehow on the ground, looking definitely pained but not dead. Archer boy was still in the tree despite his rescuer's antics, pressing a bandage on his wound. Helle briefly wondered what chain of events had led up to this result while her back was turned, but turned her focus back to the enemy archer. Disposing of her was the best way to ensure the others' safety.

Of course, at that moment something hit her in the back of her arm--an arrow, and she knew that the archer girl couldn't have shot it from her position. It didn't do much damage, thankfully, but it meant there was another archer, which was another nuisance of an enemy. Helle hated ranged opponents. They took an unnecessary amount of time to dispose of and cost too much damage, especially if they caught you by surprise. However, her few allies were temporarily incapacitated, so she had no choice but to deal with her disadvantage as best she could.

First, she would have to deal with the first archer, the girl responsible for injuring one of her allies. (Grappling hook boy's injury could have been blamed on any number of things, but Helle got the niggling feeling it was probably his own fault.) She picked up speed, hoping to avoid another shot from the new archer--or at least that she'd get to the archer girl before she got hit again.

The archer girl's arrow had flown overhead, but Helle couldn't spare the time to wonder where it had gone. No one had screamed in pain, so she assumed no one had gotten hit. Grappling hook boy's following rambling, however, was completely inexplicable. What in the world did 'mademoiselle' mean? Filing him away as 'probably insane,' Helle blocked him out and kept her focus on her target. One thing at a time--she had to keep moving towards the archer and pray that her enemy's arrows wouldn't find their way to her.

Jahan, still in excruciating pain but getting better, watched as his rescuer swung out of he safe tree in the archer girl's direction. "Oh, sweet, he's going to give that nuisance a piece of his min. This is great, this is- Jahan thought. Before he could finish his thought, however, he heard a loud crack where Herlewin's grappling hook was attached. "Uh oh... Jahan thought, as the attachment gave way and Herlewin promptly fell. And then promptly got shot by the nuisance. "My hero...." Jahan said to himself. Looking from the tree, he could of course see Herlewin in pain down below, and the Torbican woman approaching the archer girl."At least SOMEBODY is going to take care of her. Jahan thought. As Jahan finished the thought, he saw an arrow land itself nicely in the woman's armor.

There was another archer. There was another GOSH DARN ARCHER?!

"I should stop thinking, it just brings bad luck. Jahan thought, completely contradicting the statement he just made inside his head. "Well, if both of them are focused on the archer girl, who will take out the other one, wherever he is?" At this, Jahan stared at his bow, which was right next to him. "Should I?"Jahan whispered. Then he stared at his fingers, which were now a little bloody, holding a bandage to the cut. "Hmm... Can I risk letting go of this bandage? Herlewin said that I better keep it on.... Then again, look where he is now... But, do I risk getting shot again?" Jahan argued with himself, eventually going with staying put... for now, anyway.

The command was quickly followed, the knight doing the best he could to keep up with his compatriots, though the newest one seemed content to keep pace with him instead. Still they would likely end up being the back pair to enter the square, however it would seem everyone would stop upon arrival momentarily. Likely taking in the actions of the many archers in the square, at least some of which were responsible for the skewered bodies that now lied on the ground, fighting against some was a warrior with a sword, seemingly of Torbician decent. She at least had to be on the side of the light in this battle, giving the motivations the lancer had giving him, so any archer that was aiming for her was an enemy.

As it would happen on sure man was in the immediate vicinity. And while Jax wasn't fast enough to stop the man from from hitting the swordswoman as the group arrived, he could make damn sure he wouldn't hit her again.

Moving in front of the man as close as would be reasonable and raising his great shield he roared, "Lower your weapon and surrender now or die. You have ten seconds to comply."

Since the woman was moving away the man's low quality bow lose effectiveness in less time then that, and Jax was prepared to step to the side as needed to remain an obstacle.

Mitra’s eyes narrowed as the party arrived at the town’s plaza, though the glare was promptly broken by a raised eyebrow as she took in the scene before her. She had never seen so many bows in one place, save the battlements of the palace. And the archery range. And fairly often in regular combat— in any case, they weren’t typically the preferred weapon for such a small-scale engagement, making the sight of so many sufficiently unusual. Enough so to warrant a raised eyebrow. Honestly, she’d think she was in a circus were it not for the burning buildings and general bedlam. This raid needed to be put to a decisive end quickly, but the reaver had no clue where to even start.

With a soft groan, Mitra turned to Barrett, who seemed to be rather enjoying himself. “Look,” She began, doing her best to swallow what little pride she had remaining. “I’m sorry” that you’re such a waste of flesh. “We got off on the wrong foot, and I didn’t treat you the way I should have.” If I’d known better, I’d have slaughtered you on sight. She reached out and grasped the man by the shoulders, bowing her head. “But please, for the sake of all that is bright, do not hold my transgressions against these fair people! I beseech you, in your great generosity, tend the wounded that they may live to repay your kindness!” I’m sure they’ll gladly subject themselves to extortion if it means they get to live a bit longer. The girl was legitimately tearing up by this point. It hurt so much.

Mitra turned to see Jax rushing ahead to engage the enemy. She took this as a cue to wrap up her speech. “I must go hold off these shadow-touched brutes to buy you some time. I only hope that I can begin to atone for my wrongdoings with this act. May your path be always lit!” Before Barrett had a chance to solicit any further compensation, she dashed off after Jax, throwing up a little in her mouth. She heard the knight speaking as she approached.

"Lower your weapon and surrender now or die. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Ten!” The reaver shouted. She hurled her hatchet at the archer with enough force to break armor, then quickly took refuge behind Jax’s great shield great shield. “Oh, right. Watch the axe." she warned briefly.

OOC: You'll have to forgive me as I get back into the swing of things. We're going to wrap up this skirmish with the old system, and then we'll switch over for the next one ^.^


Click to expand thumbnail

Herlewin’s acrobatic feat did not go in vain as he loosed his arrows at the enemy archer. The first arrow hit its mark, striking her free hand as it reached for her quiver. She yelled in pain as it pierced her flesh, taking no time to yank the arrow from her wounded hand. This movement however caused the second arrow to go wayward; it was a shot that she could see coming. She turned while grasping for another arrow from her quiver desperately, the second arrow landing in her shoulder. Herlewin’s approach, however, had left him quite vulnerable, and the enemy archer grimaced as she fired an arrow in return, striking his side.

The volley of arrows released between the two archers had left them quite unaware that Helle had closed the gap in between herself and the archer. Left to her own devices, Helle would be able to quickly approach and strike the enemy archer if she saw fit to do so.

Helle: 32/42
Herlewin: 22/41
----------------------------
Enemy Archer: 33/41

Helle – Movement (Now within striking range of archer)
Herlewin – Hit! 4 damage; Hit! 4 damage
Enemy Archer – Hit! 4 damage


GM: Alborz is close enough to hear this exchange



The enemy archer seemed to be unmoved by the threat of the imperial knight, though he was not prepared for Mitra’s sudden attack. She threw her axe with great force, catching the bandit off-guard, and he had only moments to react as the weapon flew towards him. Fortunately for the bandit, though unfortunate for Mitra, his slight movements managed to save him from much more egregious harm as the blade only happened to graze his leg. Dutifully, the axe flew through the air (miraculously circumventing the guardian knight), returning to the woman’s hand.

Emboldened, the archer felt as if he had fate on his side and he quickly nocked an arrow and let it fly toward the knight and the warrior. With his great shield raised, Jax was sure to defend himself and his ally, though to their surprise, the archer’s arrow completely missed its mark. It flew over their heads harmless, lodging itself in a tree.

Jax: 30/42
Mitra: 42/42
---------------------------
Enemy Archer: 35/41

Jax – Skill: Great Shield
Mitra – Skill: Shield Breaker – Graze! 6 damage
Enemy Archer – Miss!



Amelia quickly scanned her surroundings to see if she could spot any clue of her brother’s whereabouts. Looking toward the inn, she saw what looked like a boy in a tree; her heart skipped a beat. Without thinking of her own wellbeing, Amelia immediately began to sprint in the boy's direction.

"Toby?" she called out "Toby!" she yelled recklessly as she ran towards the tree. As she approached, however, it became quite apparent that the boy was not whom she thought it was. Standing at the foot of the tree, she could see the young wounded boy watching the scene warily from above. His face was pale, perhaps from fear, or pain, or perhaps even both.

"Do not worry, boy" she called out to the young boy "We will save your village" she said, assuming that he was one of its inhabitants.

“Healer!” she called out to the useless log that had followed them into battle “This boy is injured!” she said while indicating to Jahan.

Amelia – Parley
Jahan – Parley
Barrett – Parley