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Super Awesome Swordsman;
Jaren Degriess!

I'm the HERO of JUSTICE

LOVE ME!

Jaren stopped at the entrance to the courtyard and turned around, letting Ali continue on. He'd stay here and wait for the arrival of those pursuing him.

A confrontation was unavoidable.

We all have our secrets, we all wear a mask. A persona if you will, to cover our real selves, our shadows, the face that we could not show to society and still appear sane. Not even we know our true nature.

Blossom had certainly lost time in following Jaren and Ali with that whole knocked-over business, but it was only a spot of good luck that Derrin hadn’t run ahead without her. He seemed to actually care that she’d been bowled over, too. What a nice guy. You know, underneath the perma-scowl. I should talk to him about that. Blossom turned a sharp corner and followed the road up towards the castle, watching with wide eyes as Ali… began to help the invaders.

She stalled and stopped in her tracks near Derrin as Jaren stopped in the middle of the road. "Jaren, why are... why are you helping--"

"Jaren, who was that bandit?"

Blossom fell silent, gripping her sword tightly in both hands. Her nervous eyes darted back and forth between the two young men, flinching as Derrin startled Jaren further. These two knew each other well, way more than anyone else would, but for them to start fighting now, while trying to ward off an invasion... this wasn't the time, they needed to help the others...!

"St-Stop!"

"Blossom, retard in the tin pot. Stay out of this."

"I missed you, you know? This is going to be fun! Just like sparring, isn't it?"

"St-Stop!!" Blossom braced Lysander's blade to the ground and seemed to lean upon it, her breath hitching in her throat. Oh no oh no oh no please no She stared at them, eyes wide. Please no

"No. No, it won't be."

"Oh, okay. You ready?"

"Stop!!" Blossom's hands shook, and it took every muscle in her body to not leap forward as they suddenly began to duel with an intensity she couldn't place. They were friends, they were supposed to be friends, people were already fighting, and... Blossom suddenly found herself pulling a stone from the ground, gripping it securely in one gloved hand, before throwing it at the back of Jaren's head.

"STOP FIGHTING!" she shouted at them, eyes wide with fear and indignation. "Think for five seconds where you are! We've already lost so many people and we're trying to keep our city from being taken over by bandits or Mordache and you two think this is the time to start beating the s**t out of each other?? You two are supposed to be friends, so start acting like it and work together, dammit!"

And they just... kept going, it seemed. Blossom stared at them, fury boiling in her gut. "Hey... Hey! Listen to me!" She lifted her sword and ran forward, heart pounding in her chest to match her steps. She was tired of being ignored, tired of people fighting one another, and tired of people all around her dying. She couldn't help Steely Dan and she couldn't help Ghis and there was... there was no way to tell if she could have helped Aidan.

But there was something she could do now.

Blossom leaped into the fray, blade catching the light, and attempted to parry Jaren's sword, body trembling in a mixture of terror and fury. It would be a miracle if they actually did as she said, but she had to try. There wasn't much time left. "Lower your sword. Now." She spared a glance to Derrin. "You too. Spellbook. Down."

"You ask why do I not talk much?"_______←«_____ ←«____ ←«___ ←«__ ←«
_____"...Because there is nothing to say."

As the Adlians continued riding down the hill, Rath looked over to his daughter. "Do not leave my sight!" When he looked back, he pulled out his bow, followed by an arrow which he promptly let soar into the sky. He aims were towards the magic users casting siege magic.

He eventually put his bow away, however, and pulled out his sword. The enemy cavalry was coming at them head on. As the two forces merged, riders zipped passed one another, some falling from their mounts without a moment's warning. Many nomads began to pick off the Mordachean cavalry, but many still continued on towards the commander- Rath included. He pulled his bow back out and continued firing at the dark mages, this time with far better accuracy. He knocked an arrow that happened to fly straight at Rosencrantz.

So much was going on, and in the chaos of fighting there was no way for either Grave or Kiote to fully know what was going on around them. To them, their surroundings were the only things that mattered. One moment of hesitation would get them killed. The only problem, Kiote was slowing down. Without a healer of some sort nearby, he was just getting slower as his body gave out on him. He was taking more and more wounds as he went as well. Grave was also taking a beating as well though. In the end, neither one of them could hope to last very long in the free-for-all at the gate.

Grave heard Kiote grunt in pain, but it wasn't until Grave too a quick glance at Kiote that he realized Kiote was actually kneeling on the ground, the steel sword he had been using laying aside as blood spilled from his side. Kiote was glaring up at a soldier, the soldier's spear being pulled back to take Kiote's life. As the spear was thrust, Kiote moved with what little strength he had left. He pulled out an arrow from his quiver of all things and slammed the arrow home into the soldiers neck before turning as Grave moved in front of him. "Grave, I'm not going to last much longer... I'm sorry." Kiote whispered as he shakily drew out Verson. He didn't have the strength to draw Caviel anymore, the blade was simply too heavy for him to fight with in his current state. Verson was thinner and much more easily used.

Grave growled, but turned his head momentarily as several gusts of wind suddenly tore to the gate, clearing a small area. Grave turned to push Kiote back, telling him to get away, before Grave moved to assist the swordsman. As for Kiote, he moved back slowly, using what strength he had to mainly avoid fighting and blocking as necessary. He avoided any direct confrontation though. He was too weak to fight someone head on.

It was raining arrows towards Avery’s troops, and their numbers were reflecting it, steadily decreasing. Worse yet, the cavalry Avery had sent out to meet the Adlians head on was talking a toll as well. Not all the casualties were hirs, however: the siege magic was doing a significant number on the Adlian ranks at well, at least. Better yet, when an Adlian rider fell, their corpse served as an obstacle for those behind them – it wasn’t a major obstancle by any means, but anything that even momentarily delayed the enemy was helpful. Especially since hir gambit was to wait handle the Adlian savages until more of hir troops arrived. Avery had sent some of hir informants into Eyris to tell hir Lieutenants of the circumstances and have them return to assist with the Adlians. Theoretically, they were already on their way.

With Rosencrantz’s magic users being the most effective threat to the savages, it was unsurprising that they were the primary target or the arrows. It was for that reason that Avery had ordered Clyde and his units to cover them: their armor and shields went a long way for defending the squishier-by-comparison dark mages and healers. Clyde, himself deflected many an arrow targeted at Rosencrantz with his shield, larger than any his soldiers had – for the time being at least, Rosencrantz was protected from fire. Avery, hirself, was also a major target. Zhe raised hir shield to cover hir beautiful face from arrows. Still, eventually zhe ended up getting hit anyway but one of the covered healers immediately attended to the wound from a distance with the appropriate staff. At this point, Wedge was sent in with the remaining cavalry to confront Songhua and those others who had gotten through the previously sent cavalry. Avery continued to unleash bolts upon the Adlians, one of them striking one of the music-makers that were spurring the savages on.

As the morning light shined above the mountains, they made it to Eyris. Isadora, riding alongside Cyric and army, came into view of Eyris. The Dame Knight let out a gasp as she rode further ahead to see what the outcome was.

The gates of Eyris had been broken. Sentrians and Mordacheans were now inside the city, battling against her people. Outside of the city was Adlian horsemen that Rath brought as reinforcement. However, it seemed that the Mordacheans had brought in the cavalry to push the Adlians away.

"No..." Isadora muttered softly at the sight before her. "We're too late..."

She thought that they would be able to make it. However, it seemed that the defense had broken.

Suddenly, she heard Cyric reassuring her. The Dame Knight turned her head, trying her best not to look like she had lost all hope.

"I hope you're right, Cyric. I hope that they are still alive at this very moment." She replied.

Maybe Cyric was right. It was just like what happened during winter; only the location was different. During winter, it seemed that Estarcia was about to lose, but they had managed to save their country at the very last minute. Maybe they could save Learania too. All that they needed to do was to join the battle and aid their comrades.

"Cyric, thank you for your help. If it wasn't for your aid, I don't know what I will do without a home and my duty as a knight." She gave Cyric a small smile.

Cyric shook his head "Do not thank me just yet. The battle has just begun." With that out of the way, the captain turned to his army and raised his bow. "Eyris is closing, prepare for a battle probably much like before." If his soldiers knew what he meant, then they would most definitely recall their time with the Archaneans. A battle that will never be forgotten for as long as Estarcia existed. "Brace yourselves. Artemis, aid those that need healing, Tanya will support from a far. The rest of you will help the people." With orders given, Cyric tugged the reins to his left toward the gate and flicked his wrist. Ronan knew what this meant and immediately took off toward Eyris.

Isadora listened as Cyric gave his orders to his men. She was thankful that Cyric was Estarcia's soon to be king unlike their previous king. If it wasn't for him, she was sure that Learania would lost for good. Once Cyric rode forth, the Dame Knight snapped her reins and charged toward the battle.

The Estarcian soldiers cheered at their captain before following him. Trumpets were blown loudly of their arrival as their banners waved in the air. Horsemen rode forth as the frontline while the footmen followed after them, heading toward the cavalry that the Mordache had sent.

Caterina saw the army pause before she knew they would make their charge. Cyric raised his bow, said something she was too high up to hear clearly, and spur his horse toward Eyris. The army shouted their response; this was the signal.

"Knights, we fly!" she cried, raising her sword. "For Estarcia! For Eyris!" She urged Adara forward, her knights's shouts joining those of the foot soldiers and the cavalry, as they flew to join the battle.

((The posts had been made by Jisen Meizuki (Isadora), Sushio Tomoe (Ninian), and Lady Arieta (Yes! I said Lady Arieta.) using the website program called TypeWithMe (thanks Joshua). Caterina and Cyric does not belong to me but to their respective owners.))

In all fairness, it wasn’t like Murphy should have seen this coming. Yes, the man was unbalanced and yes, the man was clearly inebriated or otherwise impaired (Perhaps he simply was stupid? Or could simple stupidity reach that far?), but the Assassin’s eyes rounded in unbridled shock as the collision into his front, rather than his back, sent the black-haired idiot stumbling back before unloading his stomach’s contents across Murphy’s chest and stomach.

Murphy stood in stunned silence, vomit splattered across a dark grey oversized kerchief and black shirt. An eyebrow twitched. Murphy’s hands shook, still gripping both knives.

”…AAAAH! I’m so sorry! I, I don’t know what happened, it all came so fast, I really didn’t mean to shower you in it! Hang on! I’ll help you wipe it off!”

Murphy had gotten both knives to one hand, and then the newly-freed hand up to Lance’s wrist, gripping it with all the strength the small Assassin could muster. “Don’t. Touch me.” Murphy glared at Lance, brown eyes focused briefly on Lance’s gold before he was shoved away. As Shadow Guild warriors left other positions in the courtyard in order to swarm before the castle gate opening, Murphy disappeared into the darkness…

Elsewhere, a Shadow Guild fighter was struggling on a wounded leg, gasping for air. If he could just hide, find a place to get his leg wrapped up so he could get back in the fray, then maybe…

“Give me your cloak.”

The man startled, looking around, and then noticed Murphy’s eyes as the Assassin melded out of the darkness. “S…Sir!”

“Give me your cloak.”

“But sir, I—”

“Now.”

A few moments later, the man was left wondering what had just happened, shirtless and still left with a bleeding thigh. “…uh…”

Murphy reappeared in front of the castle gate shortly after the booming explosion that shattered both the gate and the door, adorned with the new shirt. The old one was nowhere to be seen. The cloak, normally too large for the Assassin, had been neatly tucked to fit properly. “Done vomiting?” Murphy asked of the sobered-up buffoon standing just a few meters away, knives held tightly in both bandage-wrapped hands. Brown eyes were narrowed in frustration, not even taking any pains to hide it from the rapidly-sobering man that had just decided that projectile vomit was an effective attack strategy. The long, tattered cloak rustled with the wind, and Murphy reached back with one hand, yanking off the chains and dropping them to the ground. The Assassin's entire body tensed, knives at the ready, and reached up with one hand, adjusting the hood briefly over the forehead. Murphy's eyes never left Lance, the Shadow Guild peons returning to their positions.

[An attack from a third party on Murphy is incoming, so please keep that in mind...]