It did not take long for the group to rendezvous with Brynnalia ahead in the tunnels. Coatleque had taken up the lead with scimitar drawn at the first sight of bodies before. Jameson and his guard flanked each other as discussed while the robed man and Mister North brought up the rear. None of them had the grace or tact of a scout, and if the intruders had not been aware of their approach they certainly were now.
Most of the torches were either taken or extinguished. Brynnalia glanced over her shoulder at the Sworn's arrival and tilted her head towards the tunnel ahead. "I think this needs more light around here." Drawing her bow back she lit and released a single flaming arrow towards the darkness.
Time could have stood still as they watched the arrow fly through its long arc into the tunnel ahead. It seemed to bounce of a solid object and explode to the side in fiery sparks as a voice bellowed "Archers...!" Coatleque took another step forward, sword outstretched in a defensive position. "Lazarov!", she cried in response.
A sickening crunch and gurgling cry came from the front. Still too dim for either side to see what was happening, Brynnalia let fly more flaming arrows to light up the tunnel. Shadowy figures ducked behind the large shape in front with drawn sword flashing in the light. She cursed and looked towards Crofte who had taken another step forward. "Paladins!"
"Incoming charge!" Coatleque yelled as she suddenly side-stepped the shield barrelling down upon them. Her scimitar turned back as she swept it low to catch whoever it was by the shin and trip them as with a giant hook. The move was almost anticipated as the oncoming paladin stopped and dropped to one knee. The flash of a blade from the side caused her to jerk her blade upwards, hilt held high, to parry. Their blades now locked, she pressed towards her opponent to keep them as such.
The sounds of combat now rang through the hallway as figures before and behind moved through the dim light to press their chosen targets. Coatleque held fast, but could not make out Lazarov amidst the shadows that danced between flames. She pushed against the man before her. "Who are you that you are helping this murderer! He will face justice this night!"
There was a cry of pain behind her before the man's blade pressed back against hers in an attempt to regain control. The same deep voice that had warned of the archer before now growled accusingly at her. "You defend the man pulling the strings?! Despite everything he's cost us, cost you?!"
"HEAL ME! HEAL ME!"
The woman did not let up, but her eyes went wide under her mask as she recognized the voice. "You!" she hissed. "You side with this man for your vigilante justcie!?" A shape moved behind Warren but did not escape her sight. Now moved by anger as well she pushed against Warren's blade with all she could manage to force him backwards into the one attempting to pass.
A futile attempt on her part as he outweighed her considerably. The man planted a foot behind and stood his ground. "You back a puppetmaster! You serve one who serves himself! What was his bargain for your part, Crofte? Do you think he's a replacement for John?!"
Never before had he referred to her by last name alone in her presence. To add insult he dared mention that name from her past. That name nobody else but her should remember. The murder within her eyes was hidden only by the Blade's mask over her face. "You are not worthy to speak that name to me!", she nearly spat at him.
Twisting her blade free, she spun quickly to her left, rolling against his shield before stopping behind and lashing out with one leg against his to force him over. His knee met stone once more as his body twisted to keep the shield between her blade and himself. "Oh, so what is it then Florence?! Are you content to throw away what you've worked for to take the path of least resistance?! Are you a Sultansworn, or are you a puppet of the Syndicate?" There was a fire gleaming in his own eyes, an outrage gleaming in the light of burning arrows. "What ARE you in the dark, Florence? A pining housewife? Or a defender of the people?!"
It was then that Coatleque realized their positions were reversed on the field and Lazarov was within striking distance. Warren's words gave her only brief pause. "I am a servant who knows the difference between revenge..." She turned to the pirate to her left. "and JUSTICE!" There was a lunge towards the man as she noticed an immediate opening.
Warren saw his own opening, however, and immediately brought his blade down upon hers in full force. Whether by sheer luck, or fate, the blades met at the crossguard of her scimitar before she could bring it to bear. It fell clattering to the stone as she drew back cradling her wrist in her other hand. Her attention was no longer on the man before her, however, as she saw the armored figure further to her left collapse to a knee.
"NO!", she cried out. All at once she tucked her shoulder and threw herself to the left at the closest figure to her. Suddenly an unexpected obstacle tumbled in front of her and she tripped, toppling forward just as a sharp blow hit her square across her back.
She fell to the stone floor, coughing and gasping for air even through a pained groan. Her vision blurred as the battle raged around her. One arm reached forward and pushed as she tried to lift herself in vain. Instinct began to take control as her left hand reached to her boot and withdrew a long iron spatha. As the stonework came back into focus again her hand reached forward and dug the blade between the cracks in the ground as a lever to pull herself up with.
"MELKIRE! WHERE is LAZAROV!?"
She rose to one knee and jerked the blade from where it was wedged with her sword arm. Her vision cleared just in time to see Warren barrelling down upon her once again. "You defend he who would defile the Sultanate! What kind of 'Sworn are you!?" She could not defend but only scramble backwards, finally rising to her feet though clearly in pain.
She fell back against the wall, her eyes locked on Warren's just as a gunshot rang out through the tunnels.
*BLAM*
She felt nothing but pain as her back met the stone wall. The sword slipped from her hand and clattered to the stones.
*BLAM*
She slid against the far wall as her gaze fell upon Osric Melkire, and the smoke rising from his direction.
"...no.", she stammered.
Most of the torches were either taken or extinguished. Brynnalia glanced over her shoulder at the Sworn's arrival and tilted her head towards the tunnel ahead. "I think this needs more light around here." Drawing her bow back she lit and released a single flaming arrow towards the darkness.
Time could have stood still as they watched the arrow fly through its long arc into the tunnel ahead. It seemed to bounce of a solid object and explode to the side in fiery sparks as a voice bellowed "Archers...!" Coatleque took another step forward, sword outstretched in a defensive position. "Lazarov!", she cried in response.
A sickening crunch and gurgling cry came from the front. Still too dim for either side to see what was happening, Brynnalia let fly more flaming arrows to light up the tunnel. Shadowy figures ducked behind the large shape in front with drawn sword flashing in the light. She cursed and looked towards Crofte who had taken another step forward. "Paladins!"
"Incoming charge!" Coatleque yelled as she suddenly side-stepped the shield barrelling down upon them. Her scimitar turned back as she swept it low to catch whoever it was by the shin and trip them as with a giant hook. The move was almost anticipated as the oncoming paladin stopped and dropped to one knee. The flash of a blade from the side caused her to jerk her blade upwards, hilt held high, to parry. Their blades now locked, she pressed towards her opponent to keep them as such.
The sounds of combat now rang through the hallway as figures before and behind moved through the dim light to press their chosen targets. Coatleque held fast, but could not make out Lazarov amidst the shadows that danced between flames. She pushed against the man before her. "Who are you that you are helping this murderer! He will face justice this night!"
There was a cry of pain behind her before the man's blade pressed back against hers in an attempt to regain control. The same deep voice that had warned of the archer before now growled accusingly at her. "You defend the man pulling the strings?! Despite everything he's cost us, cost you?!"
"HEAL ME! HEAL ME!"
The woman did not let up, but her eyes went wide under her mask as she recognized the voice. "You!" she hissed. "You side with this man for your vigilante justcie!?" A shape moved behind Warren but did not escape her sight. Now moved by anger as well she pushed against Warren's blade with all she could manage to force him backwards into the one attempting to pass.
A futile attempt on her part as he outweighed her considerably. The man planted a foot behind and stood his ground. "You back a puppetmaster! You serve one who serves himself! What was his bargain for your part, Crofte? Do you think he's a replacement for John?!"
Never before had he referred to her by last name alone in her presence. To add insult he dared mention that name from her past. That name nobody else but her should remember. The murder within her eyes was hidden only by the Blade's mask over her face. "You are not worthy to speak that name to me!", she nearly spat at him.
Twisting her blade free, she spun quickly to her left, rolling against his shield before stopping behind and lashing out with one leg against his to force him over. His knee met stone once more as his body twisted to keep the shield between her blade and himself. "Oh, so what is it then Florence?! Are you content to throw away what you've worked for to take the path of least resistance?! Are you a Sultansworn, or are you a puppet of the Syndicate?" There was a fire gleaming in his own eyes, an outrage gleaming in the light of burning arrows. "What ARE you in the dark, Florence? A pining housewife? Or a defender of the people?!"
It was then that Coatleque realized their positions were reversed on the field and Lazarov was within striking distance. Warren's words gave her only brief pause. "I am a servant who knows the difference between revenge..." She turned to the pirate to her left. "and JUSTICE!" There was a lunge towards the man as she noticed an immediate opening.
Warren saw his own opening, however, and immediately brought his blade down upon hers in full force. Whether by sheer luck, or fate, the blades met at the crossguard of her scimitar before she could bring it to bear. It fell clattering to the stone as she drew back cradling her wrist in her other hand. Her attention was no longer on the man before her, however, as she saw the armored figure further to her left collapse to a knee.
"NO!", she cried out. All at once she tucked her shoulder and threw herself to the left at the closest figure to her. Suddenly an unexpected obstacle tumbled in front of her and she tripped, toppling forward just as a sharp blow hit her square across her back.
She fell to the stone floor, coughing and gasping for air even through a pained groan. Her vision blurred as the battle raged around her. One arm reached forward and pushed as she tried to lift herself in vain. Instinct began to take control as her left hand reached to her boot and withdrew a long iron spatha. As the stonework came back into focus again her hand reached forward and dug the blade between the cracks in the ground as a lever to pull herself up with.
"MELKIRE! WHERE is LAZAROV!?"
She rose to one knee and jerked the blade from where it was wedged with her sword arm. Her vision cleared just in time to see Warren barrelling down upon her once again. "You defend he who would defile the Sultanate! What kind of 'Sworn are you!?" She could not defend but only scramble backwards, finally rising to her feet though clearly in pain.
She fell back against the wall, her eyes locked on Warren's just as a gunshot rang out through the tunnels.
*BLAM*
She felt nothing but pain as her back met the stone wall. The sword slipped from her hand and clattered to the stones.
*BLAM*
She slid against the far wall as her gaze fell upon Osric Melkire, and the smoke rising from his direction.
"...no.", she stammered.
