Snippet #1298003

And still they came. Myr was accumulating small cuts and bruises as she went, testament to the wear she was facing at the prospect of what seemed like ceaseless hordes of combatants, each as much bent on ending her life as the last.

That was a temptation she at least refused to give into, and despite her growing fatigue, Myr continued to fight up the harder path of finding ways to incapacitate without killing. Her stubbornness, it would seem, was more firmly ingrained than her otherwise pliant personality would lead one to believe, and she continued to meet the waves without falling.

Even as engaged as she was, certain things about the battlefield as a whole were not lost on her. She could hear the loud, percussive sounds that Kain's device made even over the sound of clashing steel. The smell of blood, so much blood, flooded her nose, and she tried to ignore it, the sensation that pointed to innumerable wounds she could not treat.

She noted a shift, too, in something closer to herself; several of the men she was engaged with parted to admit someone who was perhaps taller than she had ever seen, and carrying a double-headed axe that may well have weighed more than she did. The reverence with which the other soldiers chose to look at him was perhaps more indicative of skill than his size alone, and though she would never allow herself to feel fear, such was not to say that it was impossible to intimidate her.

The man, upon catching sight of exactly who it was that had been troubling the soldiers on this side of the field, narrowed his eyes, a smirk twisting his mouth. "Oi, men, and here I think it be some upstart whelp with a sword that got ye all riled up, but what is this? It be a woman! And barehanded, too! Shame on ye all." He turned to face Myr. "I don't know how ye got here, lass, but ya won't be livin' long to regret it."

With that, he raised he axe over his head as though it weighed nothing at all, and swung it with surprising dexterity. Myr dove to the side, landing in a roll so as to come up on her feet as quickly as possible. All the while, her mind was running as many calculations as it could. The monk never fought with adrenaline; such things would do her little good. Instead, she suppressed the natural instincts that might have made her faster or stronger, but would probably hinder her thinking as well. Her mind was clear, then, as she observed the copious amounts of thick, heavy plate armor the man was wearing, protected even at the joints.

This was going to be difficult. Dodging another slash, Myr watched the axe cleave the ground and decided that if she was dealt even a glancing blow, she probably would never wake up. Therefore, avoidance would be first priority. That did make it awfully difficult to take an offense, though, unless... yes that would have to do.

Steadying her breaths, Myr closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen for the sound of an incoming attack rather than relying upon her ability to see it. In doing so, she recalled the meditation she preformed every night, and tried to attain that same awareness again. Normally, it was easy enough, but in the heat of battle, where she was constantly forced to move, it was proving very difficult indeed. Slowly, slowly, she synthesized the sensations incoming, until once again, her world was a cohesive whole.

The external result was almost immediate: everything that happened seemed to make so much more sense, to the point where she could almost feel something coming before it did. A small, very slight variation, but one that meant she did not have to expend nearly as much effort in avoiding attacks at the last second. The ripples in the air were tangible on her skin, and she understood why the monks detested armor in all its forms. Clothes, she could feel through. Leather, not as much, and certainly plate blocked you from everything just as easily as from the bite of a sword.

Moving quickly in the space between attack and readiness for the next, Myr slid past her opponent and lashed out hard with her foot, catching him in the back of the knee, armored only lightly, causing him to stagger forward. The rest of the sequence was visible to her plain as day, and she leapt, spinning herself to place force behind the solid kick that would strike the side of his helmet, the resounding clang sounding not in the least pleasant. The man collapsed to one knee, bracing himself on his axe, and Myr took advantage, circling once more to run up the haft of the weapon pressed at an angle into the ground, coming to balance precariously on his shoulder. Praying that she was fast enough to pull this off, she hooked her fingers underneath his helmet and pulled, tossing the thing away. Her hand reached for the right vein at his neck, but by this time, the man had gotten over his disorientation well enough to stand, attempting to dislodge her. The monk was forced to latch on before she fell, and in doing so, collided painfully with the back of his armor, effectively hanging from his neck.

It became a contest of pure endurance then; Myr shifted her hold so as to slowly cut off bloodflow and eventually render him unconscious, even as he tried with all his might to dislodge her. Her grip was vise-like, though, and eventually he succumbed to sleep, and Myr was hard-pressed to get off him in enough time to avoid being fallen on.

Doubled over and panting, the monk raised her gaze to the men that still remained, who were looking at her with a strange mixture of fear, awe, and something else she could not place. She attempted to straighten, feeling something odd shift in the flow of battle at about the same time as Kain's voice yelled something to Matt. One of the soldiers, the one nearest to her, gulped, holding his sword unsteadily and advancing. At about the same time, though, Myr felt something collide heavily with her side, and soon she was quite literally thrown over Kain's shoulder as he made a mad dash for the edge of the field. Her protests were lost in the wind of their passage, and she was relieved when her feet finally met earth once more. The screams and cries of dying men rushed to fill the void of sound created by their velocity, and Myr turned to Kain.

"Please... I think we need to know what is happening here."