Clash

JP Lucian, Omni and Bandorchu

Ostiarium, Forest

An arrow flew from Marden, and he whistled sharply, signaling the attack. It made contact in the back of the fur-clad Odonine holding the captive.

Malacost grinned at Alexis and dashed forward with a fierce cry and steel flashing.

Seeing dagger, arrow, and Malacost flying into the camp, Tarmen lunged more silently from his own position. He had managed to travel a good ways away from the others alongside several of the Pack, now rushing towards the gathered natives as their attention was drawn the opposite direction.

And with that, the fight was on.
Alexis brandished her sword and joined the rush, looking for a way to get to the captive quickly.
Picking an opponent on the way there at random, she challenged one of the black robed assassins.

While caught by surprise, they, especially, recovered quickly. Her opponent had instinctively drawn his blade and met hers in a crashing impact.

With the natives properly facing the wrong way, there was little to prepare the first man Tarmen met from the machete that easily sank through the cloth and flesh. He saw a few of the Craven able to find their own kills, but the Arcadians were swift in their response. His next target was ready for him, brandishing a thick blade similar to his own.

If it wasn’t a life or death situation, Alexis would have had more time to ponder some shared traits among the Brotherhood members she had met so far.

There was that confidence bordering on arrogance - or maybe even crossing that line - that she had seen in several of them already.
Same condescendence regarding her supposedly unwieldy weapon like that woman she traded blades with in the desert, too.

As it stood, however, she was better advised to remember her confrontation with the Hound and use that experience against her current adversary.

And it served her well - the man‘s expression shifted to anxious surprise as she met each and any of his agile swings, putting him on the defence.

The force of her heavier blade ate away at his posture until he couldn’t keep up his guard anymore, her blade piercing through his middle.

Alexis wasn’t given much time to recover, having to dodge the swing of a large battle ax right after. Cruder than the curved blades of the assassins, but just as dangerous in its own regard.

The dance was the same as always, weaving between strikes to find the perfect moment to end your partner. This time however, Tarmen felt off. Not in how he fought, it was as brutishly fluid as ever, matching each strike and blow, but he perceived the fight differently than before. To him it was like his field of vision was wider in the peripheral, focused fully on his opponent but aware of the greater struggle. It all seemed so crisp as long as he didn't try to think about it, letting reflexes and instinct guide him. While he had been reckless before, he felt more in control of the fight now. Something to do with his consecration?

A well placed headbutt ended his deeper thoughts, stumbling his foe. Going in for a clean beheading, the assassin conjured magic, a bright fire that was flung towards Tarmen. He had seen what such spells could do and tried to shield his face, feeling the heat wash over him. To his surprise however, he felt no worse than when he had been in the house, heat-licked, but not on fire. The man looked as perplexed as he, giving a rather comedic moment to their fight as they exchanged a glance. Then Tarmen's momentum carried him on, barreling into the assassin and devolving the dance into a brawl.