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Chrysotile was caught completely by surprise by the senshi's attack. Charging full-tilt as he was, her boot landed squarely in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to the ground beside her, rolling in pain as he tried to catch his breath. That would teach him to underestimate the enemy -- even when they were down and apparently defeated, they were still a threat.

He would not make the same mistake again.

Coughing, he finally managed to maneuver onto his hands and knees. He was tempted to try and take her out himself, but he didn't want to risk defeat at her hands. She hadn't even used her magic on him and here he was, crawling around like a baby. And he was nothing if not a sore loser. "Think I've done enough damage to you," he rasped, trying not to sound too sour-grapes. "Painite can finish you off now that I've softened you up for her."

The site of the battle -- which was what it had already become by the time Hvergelmir arrived -- was a horror of blood, shouting, monsters, and thrown fists. The Cosmos knight wanted to be anywhere but here: in the middle of a fight she couldn't join, trying to avoid thinking about the crush of people that had been at the New Year's party trying to escape, or the horrible screams of people being tortured at the Negaverse's hideous funhouse.

It was too soon to go back to things like this. She didn't want to.

But this was Camelot asking. For Camelot, she would've smeared on sunscreen and marched straight into hell.

Hvergelmir ran through the scuffle, dodging blows. Where she passed, there were agents of Order and Chaos engaged in their own head-to-head fights, mostly oblivious to her, and she was grateful. She wasn't looking for an opponent, she was looking for a friend -- someone who'd run to her air when she'd called, across the city and with all his might, then gently cared for her afterward when she'd been too wary of going to a hospital for fear of her parents' reprisal.

And he was the only thing like a parent she had left now, anyway. She couldn't lose him, too.

"Camelot!" she yelled out, trying to center her awareness around his bright aura and follow it the rest of the way to its source. "Camelot!"

Then she saw him. A fallen knight, bleeding on his own standard.

Some sort of wound had been dealt to his torso -- the bleeding was ugly, and hard to discern around the surrounding damage to his usually-gleaming armor -- and worse, there was --

There was a bear trap around his leg. She let out a low, despairing sob, and ran to kneel at his side.

"H-hang on," she said shakily, trying to get her emotions under control long enough to be useful. "You'll be okay. I'll get you out of here, you'll be okay -- "

Hvergelmir stretched her hands through the air to rip her broad stardust cloak out of subspace and try to wrap it around Camelot's shoulders. She held her fingers on it for a moment and focused to activate the slow, steady flow of magic. It was slow, but it would help -- numbing some of the pain and slowing blood flow, if nothing else -- but she needed to deal with his wounds somehow. With that bear trap. God.

His armor had taken the brunt of the blow, thankfully, steel dulling the bite of steel as it was designed to do -- but it had still crushed into the meat of his leg, brutalizing muscle and maybe shattering bone. There was no way to really tell, not as a nervous layman on the battlefield.

Lost future-memories of working at a field hospital told her there was no removing a bear trap by hand, not even with a knight's strength. Maybe if she'd been Naeroyfjord, who could life refrigerators and bend steel pipe, but for Hvergelmir? No -- not as herself. She tried anyway. The metal didn't budge at all.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, wishing for a pair of C-clamps at that moment. "I'm not strong enough."

She focused her attention, instead, on something more productive -- fingers gropping their way down the chain to find the point where the trap had been anchored to the ground. Grabbing a loose piece of wood, she started digging the long metal stake out of the ground. If they couldn't get the trap off his leg, they'd have to take it with them.

She wasn't leaving Camelot here to die.

Kadyrelite felt the air move and snapped her eyes open just in time to see a soft, grey cloth snap out and touch her wrist. Before she could smirk and brush it aside, it twisted somehow and bound her arm to her body. Snarling, she threw a hate laden glance at the knight as she fought to free herself.

Well? she threw the question at her unwanted passenger. Can't you do something about this?

For the first time since Strytha had come into her life, she heard a note of alarm in it's mental voice.

Child, this is knightly magic. Strytha can do nothing to free you. Strytha cannot even free itself. It galls, but you must flee.

It figured. The first time she was doing well in battle, she had to run away. It did gall and Kadyrelite felt bitterness well up inside. Still, awful as Strytha was, the little youma had been nothing but honest with her. If it thought she was better off running... Especially since for all her struggling, she couldn't free her arm.

Wrenching her whole body with all her strength, Kadyrelite scrambled away from the knight, somehow managing to pull herself out of the pit trap. All around, other fights were in progress, but she wouldn't intrude. As she bolted, she was dimly aware of the binding cloth vanishing, but nothing could induce her back to that knight. Not when she had no idea how that b***h's magic worked.

Go home, child. There is no shame in a strategic retreat.

Strategic retreat, huh? Grimacing, the young lieutenant nevertheless obeyed. She'd served her purpose for the night.

Kadyrelite out!

It was either the adrenaline or the effects of the paralysing poison naturally wearing off over time that granted Dallol the ability to move though it wasn't anywhere near what was normal for her.

Irate at the sound generated by the rapid beating of Mothro's gigantic wings which was breaking her concentration and starting to disorient her, the Squire glared blearily at the creature, grasping tightly onto her weapon as she struggled to maintain her balance and swung it around her in an arc like a drunkard with an empty beer bottle.

Her movements were still slow. Too slow to cause any grievous injury perhaps but at least enough to serve as some form of temporary deterrence for the time being till what strength she had remaining eventually gave out on her and sent her crashing to the ground, leaving her entirely at the youma's mercy.

Vulpricry was beginning to see that it was in over its head here. A bit late, of course, as it was too involved in the fight now to eject itself. This knight was going to pay for kicking it so many times, damn it!

Once the youma could stand from the ferocious kick Palatine launched, though the going was slow and its legs shook from the profound effort, it looked around in an effort to get some sort of advantage. The stump it had slammed into was tilted now, and offered no real help.

Shuddering, growling to hide the fake that the shaking was from fear and exhaustion, the youma decided that this was it. All or nothing. It had to make one final run, and it used the distance it had gotten from being punted across the field to its advantage. It disappeared once more, though the effort left it drained of energy almost completely, and skittered toward Palatine one more time. This attack came from behind, as Vulpicry circled around the knight and leaped onto her back in an effort to sink its teeth into her neck or shoulder. It was all the youma had left to give, and it was throwing everything it had left into the effort, even if it did not amount to much.

Merlinite was panting and miserable, and not sure if he was winning or not. Or if there was even a possibility of thinking things could work out. What did it mean to win here? For anyone else, it was to defeat their opponent.

Merlinite did not know who his real opponent was. He did not want to fight, but he kept at it because he let his fear rule him. He decided to be a coward instead of anything else. He was dead either way, he supposed.

Just by different meanings.

He was trying to bring his arm up to swing again, but it was shaking too much for him to really complete an actual attack. If he managed to connect or not he didn't know, charging in and making a shuddering effort, but being stopped short by the senshi's attack.

Yelping in surprise, Merlinite had no where to go, and one of the snakes managed to clamp on to his club-bearing arm. He felt the effects quickly enough, his arm growing heavy and useless, and he stumbled backwards, looking surprised.

Camelot was struggling to keep himself conscious, bending most of his focus and energy to that one seemingly simple goal while the battles raged around him. he wanted to help them, but could hardly move, and was trapped by the vice gripping his leg, anyway.

He had slipped into a bit of a daze as he lay there, his blood staining the grass beneath him, his glossy eyes staring almost unseeingly at the sky overhead. He was not expecting someone to make it to his side, and was startled half out of his daze as he heard a familiar voice calling his name.

It took him a moment to respond, but he turned his head toward her, though he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time she had tried and failed to pry the trap open, he had managed to lift his hand in an attempt to touch her arm.

He felt the pain in his body growing a bit more distant, and he was not sure if that was a good or bad thing. He did not put it together that it was the cloak she had wrapped around him.

"Hver," he said slowly, with some effort. "Be careful..."

Of course his main concern was the safety of his loved ones. That was why he was here, and why he had been injured in the first place. But now he was concerned about the people who came to help him, realizing he was putting them in danger on top of everything else. It wasn't fair of him to do that, and his guilt felt like a weight on his chest. It was hard for him to focus on much in this state, but that was what his mind decided to settle on.

"It's dangerous here. Ugh..." he was beginning to feel a little more clear headed, though, as the magic of her cloak steeled him.