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

This was not the first time Rath had seen the Serpent's Fang fight, so he was not ignorant of what he was capable of. The key to fighting him was to be able to match the power of his attacks. Rath, especially in his condition, was not able to do that. Rath had to fight with his speed.

Drake's fighting style made it hard to get to him, but not letting up would force the man to exhaust himself eventually. The bandit had to be kept on defense and not allowed to turn it into his offense, the way he liked to. The slightest moment of pause could open the door.

As Rath came back from a clash, his pain suddenly flared and made him flinch. The door flew open. Drake's swing came in and Rath met it, but the force on the other end was far greater than his own. It pushed Rath back and sent him rolling until he slammed into a pillar. He tried to move, but his pain crippled him. He was still very much weakened.

When he looked up, he saw Drake coming down upon him. "Tch!" Acting quickly and through the pain, Rath rolled out of the way as the large sword crashed into the tile. He was still in trouble though, because before he could get himself up, Drake was already standing over him, about to plunge the blade int his gut. "Damn it...!"

The young brown haired myrmidon wiped the blood off his sword. The initial battle was over. He checked his equipment. His beloved Wo Dao looked like it was going to shatter. Edward sighed as he gingerly finished cleaning it and put it back in it's sheath. Inspecting his other blades, he saw that they were fine.

The battlefield could be described in one word. Bloody. Dead bodies littered the ground, the bodies consisted of bandits and enemy soldiers but there were also a couple familiar ally soldiers too. The Mordachean soldiers had been killed by the nomads. Edward had recognized Rath when he did see him but the Nomad left quickly.

Edward drew his Killing Edge just in case an enemy soldier or bandit tried to make a stupid move on them. He looked back at Oujay and saw him on the ground. "Hi, the name's Edward." He gave him one vulnerably of the many he had packed. "While we rest use this. He smiled kindly as he handed the medicine to Oujay.

Things were definitely not going as they had been planned, but it was still manageable. The Shadow Guild's numbers were beginning to thin out over time, especially as the dawn grew nearer and nearer. The Learanians were particularly tenacious; even as things seemed more grim than they had ever been, what with the Serpent's Fang in the castle already, yet they continued to fight. Murphy could respect it, in a very grudging, frustrating way. As it was, in this situation, it only made it more difficult for the task of keeping the Learanians out of the castle more difficult. They just kept attempting to press forward even when it seemed clearer and clearer that they weren't going to break through. The wounded General from earlier had finally been whisked away by a blue-haired man on a wyvern -- whether or not she was going to live, it wasn't Murphy's problem, and as such the Assassin didn't give much concern to her health -- and left an empty expanse in the immediate area. The man that had decided to attack by emptying the contents of his stomach took what he must have assumed to be an impressive pose, and... fell asleep.

Well, that was unexpected.

Murphy lifted a dagger, intent on finishing the job, and then suddenly, as if she had been waiting somewhere very high to leap in at the most dramatic point. Murphy carefully held onto a neutral expression, taking one step back, closer to the entry to the castle. The odd green-haired boy (Jaren, if Murphy recalled correctly) rushed in around that point, tackling the sleeping man down and restraining him. It was a task a six-year-old could have done, but he just looked so eager, Murphy couldn't help but nod slightly to him. "...Thanks."

The Assassin then turned to face the new arrival, knives spinning once before being gripped tightly. "Who are you."

The new arrival in mention, after picking herself up aloofly off the ground, brushed the hair out of her face and watched Murphy curiously. "Not important right now."

Marina was staring at the mysterious gentleman. There was something about him. The stance, the style, something.

But you can take in the sights later, Marina!

Immediately preceding this little moment, Marina had found herself hitching a ride on a blue-haired man's wyvern. And before that her companion had been a rather odd blue-haired magician. Why was her company always so weird? After leaping off of the wyvern into the fray, she immediately plowed into a black-haired gentleman who may have looked familiar if she'd bothered to pay attention to him for more than the two seconds it took for him to break her fall. But there were more pressing matters to attend to than current situation and hair color, so she continued to watch the man. "I don't believe I know you."

Murphy's head tilted slightly to the side, brown eyes narrowed in the direction of the woman now standing a few paces in front of Lance. Dressed in all-black, with her hair falling in a long sheet down her back and her posture expressing an unusual mixture of casual and yet tensed for battle, Murphy's grip tightened on both knives just looking at her. Definitely not a push-over, not like that black-haired man and certainly not like Jaren. "No. You don't." Murphy's entire body tensed and shifted, arms held at the ready. The knives' blades angled outward, catching the light. "And that isn't important, either."

There was a brief pause as Murphy inspected Marina again. The sounds of fighting rang everywhere around them, unidentifiable by sound alone. "Leave, and I will not kill you."

Marina chortled. "Words like that only persuade me to stick around longer, cutie."

Murphy's eyebrow twitched imperceptibly under the mass of curly hair and cowl, pulled down close to the face. "...Words like that only make me want to cut your tongue out." Murphy shifted again, calves tensing under the baggy trousers. Eyes partially obscured now by the hair, the Assassin watched Marina very closely. Very silent, very still, barely even moving to breathe, and...

Suddenly the Assassin was gone. If Marina's senses were sharp, she might hear the rush of fabric overhead, or see the tiniest pinprick of light catching the tip of one knife before she might suddenly realize a tiny body clad in dark hues was suddenly leaping for her from the side, steel aimed at her throat and face.

Marina, however, had been to a few more firefights than Sunil and Lance, and in an instant she had successfully ducked out of the way, flipping her body around to aim a foot slightly behind where her head had been momentarily before. Completing her retort, she whirled her lance around in a wide arc and ended in a defensive pose, hoping to catch her assailant with the blunt edge of the handle.

Murphy's eyes narrowed. Every part of the Assassin's body was trying to enforce how much of a bad idea this was - launching the first strike was always a bad idea. Always. And yet, there they were. Murphy tucked into a tight ball as Marina began to dodge, just barely managing to avoid the strike of her foot to the head. As the Assassin rose back up, though, the lance finished its arc right into Murphy's back. "Hrrrrk!" Murphy tumbled forwards a few more yards and rose up, breathing hard. A long, shallow cut across the back steadily seeped blood across the borrowed shirt, with tinges of ice across the torn fabric edges. The Assassin shivered in cold, eyes widening before instinctively narrowing once more.

"Y-You--" Murphy paused, grip tightening on the knives, and then spat once onto the grass. "...Hmph."

Marina barely gave Murphy an opportunity to breathe, once again rushing in with her lance with her hands far apart on the handle. She hoped to use the lance in a manner that would stun him, not kill. She knew that assassins tended to have similar fighting patterns, all based on speed and stealth, and if she could just wear him down, she'd have the upper hand. When she drew close, she brought the handle in another arc, sweeping low in order to catch the shin.

Letting out a startled sound, Murphy took one step back, knives still up, and leaped to the side. Barely managing to clear the lance's sweep with no more than a nick across the calf, Murphy's hands pressed to the grass and, utilizing both the paltry upper-body strength and the momentum the Assassin already held, Murphy rebounded off of the grass and back upright within moments, aiming a sweep of one knife across Marina's back before immediately moving away from the superior range of her lance. The cut Murphy had taken to the leg was covered in a thin sheen of ice, making it even more painful than it could have been otherwise. Goddamned enchanted weapons.

Damn it, assassins were fast. The knife's blade connected, digging into her back, and she hissed in pain. There would be no more playing around. Marina charged in the direction of her opponent's movement, lance fully brandished for the offensive.

Murphy's eyes widened. Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Murphy dipped back, ducking under the swing of her lance. The b***h had finally realized how useful that range on her lance was. Knives still up, Murphy attempted to parry the swing of the lance's head with both blades, catching it between. The Assassin held Marina's weapon there for a moment, braced against the ground, and then... ice from the weapon's blade was beginning to spread across Murphy's knives. If they were held there much longer, they would only be fused together from the ice, or fused to Marina's weapon. Actually, wait, that wasn't a concern; magical energy seemed to be focusing now at the tip of the lance.

Crap!

Murphy rolled to the side to avoid the blast of magic aimed right at the face, chest heaving as the Assassin rose to full height again. "How... y-your lance," Murphy mumbled before immediately backing away once more. As long as I hold her off long enough for him to finish inside the castle, it shouldn't matter if I can't defeat her own my own... right...? Murphy spared one glance at the castle, then back to Marina, watching the Halberdier warily. Where are the other freaking Shadow Guild members when I need them...?

Marina was not giving him time to even think, pressing her attack further. The lance went out in a wide thrust, and her shoulder heaved in order to slam into the assassin in the case that he tried to escape. It was her job to detain him, and she would do that, or she would deal a hurting while she could.

Murphy dipped to the side, falling into an awkward roll in order to avoid the chilled slice of the woman's enchanted weapon. Granted, Murphy's shoulder was growing sore now from the less-than-optimal collision with the dirt and grass, but at least that lance hadn't cut the Assassin's throat open. Murphy stared at Marina, scrambling upright and away. Need a plan, something. She's fast. Stronger than I am. Faster, no. But I need to... got to cripple her somehow...

Murphy's brown eyes darted momentarily over Marina's form. No time to think, only time to duck under another attack and dip to the side. Like performing an awkward dance, they moved around each other in varying degrees of grace, unless those two dancers were intent on killing one another. Murphy leaped over the sweep of Marina's blade and, watching the Halberdier with wide eyes, threw one knife at her unguarded thigh, keeping the other gripped tightly in one hand.

This attack was not expected, and Marina shrieked as the knife dug into her thigh, slicing a gash through its path. She stumbled momentarily, then gathered herself. Her eyes lit with rage and determination, and her gaze darted around, looking for the assassin. The lance twirled wildly, dangerously, within her grip, and as she stood back up to two feet, her hand slipped to a far extreme of the weapon's handle, taking care to avoid injuring herself with the weapon's alternate blade. Her momentum carried herself around and around in a frantic strike, the whirling blade and shards of ice ready to seriously injure.

Murphy's eyes widened again, one knife now lost in the faded light of early, early morning. Oh crap oh crap The Assassin dove to the grass to avoid the first whirling strike, shards of ice flying overhead, then back up and to the side. Her attacks were growing more and more erratic, stronger. More difficult to predict. Murphy's momentum carried to the right, but too far; as the Assassin attempted to correct this, a large section of ice slashed across Murphy's cheek and through the hood. A pained sound left Murphy's lips, and the hood was pulled back with the action. With a young, scarred face now fully visible under a head of unkempt black hair, Murphy continued to dip and dive through the blasts of magical energy. There wasn't much else the Assassin could do, with no opportunities to respond.

And there was her opening. "Hrrrrrraugh!" Marina snarled, arcing the lance over them and throwing her body at the assassin in a mad tackle before he could respond. Her other hand snatched the switchblade she carried by her side, flipping it open. Her shoulder dug into his light body, sending him to the ground, and as she tumbled onto him the lance fell off to the side. Fist met face as she began to rain down blows upon him, and her knife remained at the ready.

Oh holy craprap what. Murphy moved to slash at Marina's face, but Marina's surprising attack completely screwed up the Assassin's reflexes. Letting out a sharp cry, Murphy's body crashed into the grass with the rude introduction of Marina's shoulder to the collarbone. The Assassin bit back a scream and tried to work a hand in edge-wise, still holding onto the one remaining knife. The Assassin spat blood in Marina's face and tried to get the knife up at her face, slashing across her cheek, from the jawbone up to the hairline. "Get off of me!"

As if triggered by the shout, obscured figures began to move closer to the brawl...

Blows landed even harder, and her knife hand batted away Murphy's own knife flawlessly. "I could end this right now, you-- augh!" A large rock solidly met her knife arm, and she dropped the knife in sheer agony. "I'm going to <********>--" Her sentence remained unfinished as she started to pound with her good arm once again.

Murphy's breath came out in a pained wheeze, spitting more blood against Marina's face. The Assassin's hand reached up to claw at her face, and then... suddenly nothing.

A taller figure clad in black had leaped into the fray, crashing directly into Marina's side and carrying her away from the small Assassin and tumbling some distance away in the grass. He aimed a punch square at her nose while a second pulled Murphy upright again. Murphy said nothing, simply spitting blood on the ground, thanks to a combination of a bitten tongue and a badly-split lip.

Marina took a punch to the nose, bloodying it further, as she wrestled herself from the shroud's grasp. Her lance was within reach, and with a sharp movement she had it again and was using it to block future assault. She pulled herself to her feet, distancing herself from the group, and glared fiercely at Murphy. She was not in any condition to continue fighting.

Murphy stared back at Marina, eyes narrowed under the sweep of black hair. The knives had been regained at some point, held loosely in each hand. The Assassin shifted both to one hand in order to rub wordlessly once at the blood gathered over the split lip, spitting once to the ground again. "...I suggest you go." Whether or not there were more was to be seen, but there were definitely footsteps to be heard all around them. The little Assassin had received Shadow Guld back-up. A lot of it. And they didn't intend to play around as Marina had when her battle began. "Now."

There was no more fighting to be done here. After glaring at Murphy, making her intent fully clear, she sulked off from the brawl. She'd gotten exactly what she needed, and dying was not on the agenda. As quickly as she'd appeared, she was gone.

Drake smirked and then chuckled as he was about to kill Rath, when all of a sudden, terrible pain struck his shoulder. The same shoulder that was already hurt. "Augh, god dammit!" he shouted, as he angled his shoulder back and thus moved his sword away. Before he could recover from the arrow, he was cut in the leg and then kicked onto his back.

He growled angrily as he staggered back onto his feet. As he turned around to face the man, his eyes widened at the sudden flames. To the six people in the room, the flames seemed to engulf him. When they vanished, Drake was nowhere to be seen. There was silence.

What the hell happened outside..?! ******** Mordache... useless! It's pointless to stick around, now... even if I kill the kid, it won't mean anything. Damn it! I'll have to take my leave for now...

As the smoke was clearing, Drake suddenly darted out from behind a pillar and headed for the exit. He knocked away the lance from the rider and attempted to shove him from his horse, before continuing off. Even if hit by an arrow, it wouldn't stop him. With his movements, it would take a miracle to get hit anywhere vital. When he got to the exit, he turned around, eyes full of rage. "...This isn't over!"

He continued off as fast as he could with his leg wound and got to the outside of the courtyard. He looked around to see who he could find and spotted Viscen. "Viscen! Order a retreat!" he glared at the bandit leader. "Now!" He breathed heavily as he continued looking around. "Murphy! ....MURPHY!!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, very impatiently. Fortunately Murphy knew to come when called on. "...Get me a damn horse. We're getting out of here... Do it now!"

If Lance had a pleasant dream, he would be snoozing happily for quite a while.

He wasn't, however. In his dream, he was wrestling a bear. A vicious bear with a bad temper. With Lance's small stature, an animal of that size posed quite a problem. But even Lance realized that going from blood and carnage to fighting a bear in a stream didn't make sense, so it was probable he had fallen asleep. As he realized that, he started coming to his senses.

Only to realize that in the real world, he was actually wrestling with a green moss monster.

Yelping in surprise, he instinctively pulled his free arm around into an awkward angle, placing his palm against the monster. "Get off you little critter!"

As he Impact knocked the creature out, Lance wriggled himself out of the grapple, panting heavily from the schock as he realized the monster was actually a person. "...serves you right, you tosser!"

Realizing he was just about to battle Murphy, he quickly went back into fighting stance, only to see said person on the ground, badly beaten up. Puzzled, as Lance was fairly sure he couldn't have done that in his sleep, he actually worried about the enemy, since Lance felt bad about how Murphy had gotten beaten without Lance being the one responsible. "H-hey, wait...how long was I knocked out? A-are you alright, do you need he-..."

Promptly being ignored, the young assassin trodded past him on the call of the person Lance had set out to stop in the first place. Lance should've gotten worried about whether the king was alright or not, but that thought didn't even show up in his mind. He started following the assassin, his expression changed to something more angry. "Oi! Is that how you treat someone expressing concern for you, ah?! I was seriously offering my help, you little tw-...!"

Getting cut off by his face rapidly becoming familiar with the ground, Lance's words got muffled as he faceplanted forward. Turning around, he could see that the green haired b*****d had managed to grab a hold of his legs and trip him up while unconscious. Dedication or thick-headedness, it was commendable, but it still made Lance lose his cool. "Argh! Let go! Piss off!" he yelled out as he tried stomping on Jaren, watching Murphy and Drake preparing to leave.

*******************

Though you know, I wish, I could...

You know there ain't no rest for the wicked...

Until we close our eyes for good...

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Running took longer than riding a horse. Abel had lost sight of Rath and the others a while back, but he kept going. He eventually made it to the area outside of the castle courtyard and stopped a moment to catch his breath. He looked around, amazed that there was so much fighting. "...When did it get so crazy up here?"

Suddenly, a bandit came at him from the side and swung. "Whoa!" Abel dodged the axe, almost losing his balance and falling on his behind, but managed to plant one foot and kick the the bandit into a building with the other. "Geeze..."

Just then, he heard a girl's scream coming from a nearby building. When he looked over, he saw bandits attacking where the medical facility had been setup. Even worse, the one who screamed was a girl Abel knew; one of the clerics from Pentheus! He immediately rushed over and slashed the bandit, but it was too late. The bandit's axe had hit the cleric's side and she was on the ground, bleeding. "No!" Abel dropped his sword, knelt down to her and quickly applied pressure to the wound. "Help! I need a healer! Somebody, quick! Help!!"

Drake pushed himself up onto the horse, holding the reigns with one hand and the cut on his leg with the other. He glanced around and saw that the orders were being carried out. His forces were retreating and now it was time for him to get out as well. "...Cover me."

Drake turned the horse around, looking for a side street to travel down. He turned towards the first one he saw, but then did a double take as he saw somebody familiar. As he looked back, he happened to lock eyes with Abel. The boy seemed different, strangely, but he shrugged it off as unimportant. Drake smirked. He knew the boy had it in for him, but their fight would have to come another time. He looked away and flicked the reigns, sending the horse down the street.