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No rest for the wicked, as Davor heard said. He had not allowed himself much time to recuperate in the hotel in-between fights and assignments, made restless by the constant chaos around them. It seemed the more they struck the metallic creatures down, the more seemed to take their fallen's places -- case in point by the massive swarm currently attacking some of his fellow Chosen, a scene he'd stumbled upon while gone out looking for a fight to make himself useful. Well, he'd certainly found one.

Without a moment's hesitation, Davor barreled into the battle, only the satisfying sound of metal crashing down onto metal announcing his entrance as he brought his war-hammer down onto two swooping birds, flattening them into the snow mid-flight.

Weapon: War-Hammer
HP: 50/50 DMG: 10
Swarm HP: 47/100

"Welcome to the party," was Mal's cheerful salutation. Maybe it was true that the Gods had intervened to send them help -- or maybe it was chance. It was a fine thing, someone wanting to help them.

And maybe that was what they needed; to know that any Chosen would help any other Chosen. A hero was a hero, right? And any hero should help any other hero, or so Mal hoped.

He lunged forward and was rewarded when the sword dug in to the nearest bird. Dug in well, caught on the metal feathers, and he pulled it out with a noise that made his skin prickle. Birds. No more birds.

Mal's Health: 30 - 5 = 25
Swarm HP: 45 - 6 = 39

Mal's Weapon: Sword: Balanced Melee

At the chorus of greetings and thank yous, of all things, Davor only gave a quick wave of acknowledgement, part focused on the fight, part a little sheepish. He was only doing his job and anyway, this fight wasn't over yet. Good thing he'd been so focused, as he heard Mathilda call out and immediately ducked, the ghastly sound of metal being punctured and the subsequent rain of feathers above telling him it was a successful hit.

He couldn't help the incredulous look he shot at the woman, before straightening again and hefting his war-hammer up for another well-placed swing. It wasn't hard to find a good target -- the birds, if they had any sense of consciousness, seemed to know the tide of the battle had turned and became only more desperately vicious in their attacks. Davor crumpled another few under his hammer, wanting this over with quickly. The other Chosen looked like they'd had a rough time of it.

Weapon: War-Hammer
HP: 45/50 DMG: 10
Swarm HP: 27/100

Mal stepped up when the lady went down; he caught the edge of the bird's beak with his sword with a hideous clashing noise. "Crap!" Mal pushed it away with his sword, and held a hand down to her to get her back up on her feet.

This was not a great fight. Thank goodness their new friend with the hammer had decided to join the fray. He looked half-embarrassed by the thanks (which made Mal think better of him) before he concentrated on the birds. Mal had to admit that the hammer was an interesting weapon. Everyone he'd seen using one seemed to like it pretty well.

Mal's Health: 25 - 5 = 20
Swarm HP: 25 - 3 = 22

Mal's Weapon: Sword: Balanced Melee

Momentarily distracted by Marisol's stumble, Davor moved to help her -- but everyone else seemed to have the same idea, too, and she was safely back on her feet before he could offer his assistance. For this minor misstep, he earned a heapload of embarrassment: while his head was turned, one particularly brave bird swooped down and managed to clamp its bronze beak right onto Davor's ear, earning a startled yelp -- some swear in Ukrainian, so at least none of them probably understood -- as he dropped his war-hammer and swatted at it, trying to get it off get it off. Whatever respect he had gained by so bravely dashing in was surely gone.

Weapon: War-Hammer
HP: 40/50 DMG: 0
Swarm HP: 18/100

Davor's curse made Mal pivot on his heel; instead of sliding in the slow, he managed to find what felt like the only solid footing, and the twist of his body went into the swing of his sword, more like a baseball bat than a sword.

To his surprise, it sunk deep into the bird, and it stopped moving. He yanked it out (with a grimace for the blood and smell of the thing) and studied the litter of bird bodies in the snow.

"Well." He grimaced again. "Thank god it's cold. Gods? I feel like this smell is never going to go away. Who wants to loot the bodies first?" He grabbed a handful of clean snow to get blood and gore off his sword blade. Someone, not that long ago, had taught him that it was bad etiquette to put a knife away with blood on it. He figured the same had to go for a sword-- it was just a bigger knife, right?

Mal's Health: 20 - 5 = 15
Swarm HP: 10 - 12 = DED

Mal's Weapon: Sword: Balanced Melee

Thanks to the Chosen's mark of protection, Davor's pride (however small, but still there) was wounded more than anything. His ear stung where it'd been nicked by that nasty beak, and it only reddened moreso as he flushed at Marisol's comment, muttering a quiet "Thank you," before he hefted his war-hammer back up.

Mal's suggestion sounded like a good one. He could use a little trophy, snagging an unbent feather from the metal bird that had gotten him. An eye for an eye, as they said. It was terribly sharp, something that might come in handy the next time he flubbed a swing, and Davor tucked it away into one of his coat's pockets.

Meanwhile, Mathilda seemed entirely too chipper after a struggle like that. Or was he the only one feeling so worn down by the constant fight they'd been going through? Still, he tried to sound a little friendly right back at her, hard when he voice was a low, thickly-accented bear grumble more than anything. "Well met, Mathilda. I am Davor." If there was one fine thing about no longer living in Ukraine or Russia, it was that he need only give his first name for introductions now.

61-80: Heart's Blood: You manage to collect a vial of the creature's blood. It can be used once to replenish 3 HP, at which point it is consumed and leaves your inventory forever.