Derdriu - Sunset - Cold
Mercer von Riegan
Mercer stared at the group in front of him. They were going to be taking back Derdriu, and for once, Mercer felt all the confidence in the world. All of his friends were here; Sorcha, Senka, Teach, Vi, Thea, Deirdre, Sofia, Sylvi, and Devon. They were all still alive. Senka had, apparently, lent Sorcha her pegasus, Liev, and she was riding a regular pale grey horse next to Teach. He supposed that they'd cleared some of their issues, and he was happy for them. The same with Vi and Thea, and even Devon and Sylvi. He was happy that his friends could find the small traces of happiness in a time like this. Even he felt a small flare of happiness with Sorcha at his side.
He wanted it to last.
Needed it to last.
It was why this battle would be a deciding point for their future. If they couldn't take back Derdriu, then they'd likely lose a war they were fighting so hard to win. Needed to win. Pulling in a breath, he calmed himself before addressing the group.
“You all know what to do. We're going to be reinforcing Alaric's group with ours, and pushing for a pincer attack. As far as we know, the Imperial army isn't expecting us, and are unaware we've arrived. Let's use it to our advantage while we still have it. Sorcha and I will take the skies," he began, shifting his gaze towards her and smiling softly.
“Teach, you and Sen take the right flank with Devon and Sylvi. Vi, you and Thea take the left flank with Sofia and Deirdre. Keep them reinforced until we know we're pushing them back. We don't know if they have demonic beasts or golems with them, however, so keep an eye on the field. We all know how to handle beasts, however," he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, “if you see a golem, don't engage it recklessly. We can't afford to have any of you dying senselessly."
As their leader, he wouldn't be able to bear it.
Teach wore a subtle little smile on his face, offering Mercer a slight nod. “As you say, general," he replied, a certain lightness to it despite the solemnity of the moment. Perhaps that was fitting, really—they had for so long been a team, always confronting together things that seemed at the time beyond them, from that first night in the forest with Sorcha and Vi through to the siege of Garreg Mach and now beyond it. Somehow, even when it hadn't seemed possible, they'd all survived, and managed to keep something of themselves. Something that had bowed under the pressure of five years since, but had perhaps not broken. Could still unbend.
“And if you do see a golem," he added, “remember that the large glowing stone beneath the carapace is its weak point. Worst case scenario, your goal should always be to destroy that, or cause enough damage to disable it so you can get away."
That little tidbit of information was courtesy of Sorcha, who had spent rather a lot of her time in captivity forced to listen to Cornelia's ramblings. At least some of it was useful.
The others all managed some combination of nods and verbal affirmations, and they were ready to go.
“Most of all," he spoke, making sure he made eye contact with every single one of them, “survive. Watch each other's backs and make sure you live to see another day." They nodded once more as Mercer nudged Sir towards the capital. Taking in a deep breath, he murmured, “we're coming, Al. Just hang out a little longer," and Sir took to the skies. With the dying light, it was going to be a bit more difficult to see, however; they still had enough of it that the way he and Sorcha would fly would make them look like tiny specks in the sky. If even that, really. The sun would be used to their advantage, a camouflage of sorts.
Up ahead, he could hear the battle. People were shouting orders, pointing in every direction as if they meant to using a pinning movement to wipe out a small handful of soldiers. Mercer pursed his lips.
“Sorcha," he called out to her, low but still enough that she could hear him. “We're going for that group, there," he stated, pointing towards the soldiers. “We'll free them up so they can be added to the pincer attack," because at this point, they needed as many able bodies they could get. He pulled his bow from his back, and took a breath, fitting an arrow to it. “We'll stay in the skies, though. We can't afford to get knocked off, either."
“Understood." Her bow was already in one hand, but she let go of Liev's reins with the other, steering with her legs as she nocked an arrow to the string. Her old hesitation was gone now; she shot without needing to think about where the arrow was going to go, on an instinct he'd spent nearly a year trying to hone in her.
It was different, though, from even a month ago. She grimaced as she released the shot, lining up the next even as it whistled through the air, catching one of the enemy commanders in the eyeslit of his helm. It toppled him, and the Alliance soldiers in the spot took advantage, swarming that part of the enemy line and punching through. It wasn't enough to break the pin, but a few more like it and they'd be in business.
He followed suit, releasing an arrow to take out another soldier. He wasn't going to make her do all the killing, after all. If he had the choice, he'd have let her sit this one out. But he also knew that Sorcha wouldn't have wanted that. She would have wanted to come, no matter what. Taking a breath, his Crest glowed on his wrist as he narrowed his eyes on the next commander, releasing the arrow and catching the woman in the base of her neck, severing her spine in the process. Quick deaths. Easy deaths.
A few more soldiers were dropped, and the Alliance soldiers were finally able to push free from the pin. He nodded in their direction as they made their way towards the part of the army where Teach was. At least that meant they'd be reinforced from there, if they needed it. He nudged Sir forward, intent on making it to the frontlines to see if he could see Reynard or even Alaric. He knew that Alaric wouldn't be sitting out the battle. That just wasn't the type of person he was.
Alaric fought alongside his soldiers.
The battle seemed to begin in earnest, now. With the freed up soldiers he and Sorcha were able to get to that were added to both Teach's side, and Vridel's, the plan to attack could commence. He glanced in Sorcha's direction, pulling his sword from its sheath. He wanted to reserve his arrows, for now, and he wanted to be on the ground, spearheading the charge alongside the others.
“This is it, Sorcha. Fall back and let the others know we're going to push forward now with the pincer. We need to get to Alaric and Rey. To the others. Join me when you've done so," because he wasn't sending her away. On the contrary, he wanted her beside him when this happened, however; he needed the others to know that now was the time.
“Okay," she said, brows furrowing a little but nodding nevertheless. “Be safe, Mercer. I'll be back soon." Wheeling Liev, she guided the pegasus to her top speed, leaning low over her neck until they were a blur across the sky.
It didn't take long for the message to ripple through the ranks, Teach and Vi leading their flanks towards Mercer for the charge. Sorcha landed next to him a moment later, slinging her bow across her back and drawing Areadbhar. Her eyes were fixed on the field in front of them, the blue hard but no longer cold. Not even close.
“Ready when you are."
He nodded, taking a breath and glancing out in front of him. This was it. This was going to be the deciding battle in who was going to emerge victorious. To be the ones who emerged with a future. He glanced towards Sorcha, before steeling himself.
This was it.
He slid off of Sir's back, and motioned for the wyvern to leave. Sir regarded him with an even stare before taking off. He'd whistle if he needed Sir, back, and they both knew that. Shifting the sword in his hand, he glanced at the battlefield. “Let's do this," he spoke, lunging forward as the soldiers behind him followed suit.
He barreled into the first soldier, quickly plunging his blade into the soldier's abdomen. He pulled it out and moved on to the next. He could hear a few wind spells being used, saw a saggitae, either Sen's or Vi's, and could hear the thrumming of Areadhbar near him. He countered an attack aimed for him, parried another, and cut down another soldier. He could feel the warm blood splash across his face as he grimaced slightly. He had to keep pushing through. Had to keep going.
Alaric was waiting for them. Reynard was waiting for them. Their future was waiting for them.
Around them, the battle roared, his friends visible as little more than glimpses in one moment gone in the next. There, Cyril felled a broad swath of soldiers with a thoron, throwing the Arrow through another's heart and launching himself into another cluster with nothing but his hands, fighting like a man possessed, blank faced and bloody.
There, Vridel, a bright flash of white amidst the muddled colors of the field, bright magic flashing along the blade of his sword, hewing down another and whirling to fling a spell over Thea's shoulder to stagger her opponent. Not far away, Sofia, setting her tower shield against a flank attempt, lance lashing out over the edge to catch those who tried to get around her at Deirdre.
Sylvi had her axe, abandoning her gauntlents, perhaps, in favor of the range the axe provided her, and caught a soldier in the shoulder. Deirdre was flinging fire spells and wind spells to help stagger soldiers who were trying to flank the others. Senka was much flurry as Vi was, using Blutgang to either disarm her opponent's weapons, or literally disarm them. She caught a few with her blizzard spell, and Mercer could see Thea using Amyr more as a throwing axe, occasionally ducking behind the shield she had with her before she recalled Amyr to her.
They were pushing forward. They were succeeding. He grit his teeth, though, and before he could move forward, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him out of the way. The arrow that would have lodged in his neck was now lodged in Sen's arm, as she held it in front of her, the tip of the arrow just inches away from her face. If it pained her, she didn't show, and it looked like it had hit her arm that wasn't her dominant sword one. She'd be okay, for now.
“Go," she spoke, breaking the arrow in half and pushed the other half out of her arm. She held it, though, as she glanced in his direction. “The general was spotted further up. If you and Sorcha can reach him, we have a chance of routing their forces," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly at him. He motioned towards her arm, but she shook her head. “You need to end this, Mercer. Be careful, he doesn't appear to be your typical general," she stated, her brows furrowing deeply. He nodded his head, and she disappeared back into the fray.
Mercer glanced in Sorcha's direction. “Let's end this, Sor," he spoke, pushing forward until he could see the general. He was a rather large man, taller than Teach, perhaps, by an inch or two. Maybe three. It was hard to tell from this distance. He was situated atop an Imperial charger, and donned heavy armor. The shoulders were spiked slightly, almost reminiscent to the Death Knight's armor, however; the difference was the coloring. Where the Death Knight's armor was black, this general's armor was mostly gold with silver trimmings. He donned a large zweihänder at his back. The blade was rather thick for one, however; Mercer had a suspicion it was mostly for show rather than use.
But the man was muscled. He looked like he could swing the weapon with just one hand. Grimacing slightly, he gripped his blade just a little tighter. “With a weapon like that, he's not going to be able to swing as fast. Sor, cover me with whatever arrows you have. If we can keep him on his toes, it shouldn't be too difficult to take him out," he stated. It would require a lot of work, but Mercer believed they could do this.
“Okay, but I'm getting in there if it looks like too much," she said, meeting his eyes intently for a moment. Areadbhar found one of the leather loops at her back, and then drew her bow again, nocking an arrow and setting about the task of clearing his path forward.
To their sides their friends still fought on, bloodier and wearier than they had been at the outset. Devon was limping, but still firing arrows; Vridel's hair and clothes had turned red and pink in places, though how much of it belonged to him was hard to say. Sofia was still hunkered behind her shield, her motions flagging a little but steady. Where Teach had gone was unclear, but from the free space on their left flank, it was a fair guess he'd pushed the line back a bit.
He nodded in response and lunged forward. Even he was starting to feel the effects of a prolonged battle, but he couldn't show it. He had to keep pushing forward until they had won. Or died.
When he'd made it to the man who was, supposedly, the general, Mercer fixed him with a harsh stare. He simply lifted his blade towards the man who drew his own from his back, however; a hand placed itself on his arm as if to stop him. Beside him, hidden from view, was a smaller person. Feminine from the way her armor was made. Her silver helm had a long black feather from it, and she regarded him with cold dead eyes. She pulled her bardiche from her back, and leveled it at Mercer. Was she the actual general?
Whatever it was, he readied his sword. The larger man moved back as if to give them room for this strange duel he'd silently agreed to with this woman. She lunged towards him, quick and smooth-like. Mercer barely had enough time to dodge, and the bardiche caught him in the shoulder. His armor, light as it was, managed to protect him for now, however; with an onslaught of attacks, it wouldn't hold up for long. The downsides of bringing light armor into battle, he supposed. He lunged for her with his sword, swiping horizontal at her. Poled weapons were usually not so useful for attacks like that, however; she seemed to block it with ease.
Mercer gritted his teeth together. He wasn't going to have the energy for this. Something had to give, one way or another. At least her companion hadn't joined in on the battle, and seemed content to let her do most of the work. She continued a barrage of attacks at him, blocking and parrying every attack he threw at her until she'd mostly had the upper hand. If something didn't give, soon, she was going to win this battle.
“Mercer!" Sorcha's attempt to interfere was blocked by the large man, but she did manage to fling a healing spell his way before she was forced to leap back and draw Areadbhar. “You're not allowed to die!" she called, staving off a heavy swing of the large man's blade with the pole of the Relic. “Your life is mine, right?! You better keep it safe for me!"
She swung the spear with a mighty heave, clearly fighting to get through to where he was, to help him, but an armored bulwark like that man wouldn't go down quickly or easily, not even to Sorcha.
He would have laughed, really. He wasn't allowed to die, was he? “Yeah, Mercer! You're not allowed to die, you stupid fish face!" it was Thea's voice, next, and Mercer blocked an attack from the general with a little more ease as Thea appeared. It seemed that she was helping Sorcha, now, and Mercer felt a strong wave of relief wash over him. Two people might be able to bring the man down, but Mercer focused his attention on the woman. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she thrust her bardiche at him once more, however; unlike him, she had no one to fling a healing spell towards her. No one to help her. Mercer might have felt bad about it, but he couldn't afford to.
Not when so many lives were at stake.
He pushed back, swinging with a bit more vigor in her direction, forcing her back until she was on the defensive, now. He could hear Sorcha and Thea working together, Amyr and Areadhbar both clashing with the man's weapon, however; with a final thrust, his blade slipped past her poled weapon, finding a home past her chest armor, and into her heart. Her eyes widened with surprise as her grip on the bardiche loosened and it fell from her hands.
“You won't... win," she spat, gripping the blade with her hand. “He won't let you... win," she spoke before her arm fell limp at the same time the large man screamed. He was silent afterwards. Mercer sighed, putting his foot to the woman's shoulder and pushing her off of his blade. In the distance, he could hear the cries of victory, the joyous ringing of a bell somewhere, however; he turned his attention to where Thea and Sorcha were, and smiled.
“Come on, then," the new voice belonged to Vi. “I'd best finish patching you up; no one's going to want the man of the hour bleeding all over the carpet."
Sorcha giggled, the lightest sound she'd made since they found her. “I dunno. Scars are kind of heroic, right?"
“I can always leave them if you want," Vi drawled.
Mercer pursed his lips together. He opened his mouth to say something, however; someone else spoke first.
“Attractive. I think the word you're looking for is attractive," Senka spoke, smirking in Mercer's direction as she stood next to Thea and folded her arms over her chest. Her arm seemed to be healed, probably due to the plethora of healers on the team there were, or by herself.
“I think I'd rather be healed so I don't bleed to death, heroic or otherwise," he deadpanned. This brought a light laugh forth, though, and Mercer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. This... he missed this.
Teach took a moment more to join them, but seemed to have caught the end of the conversation at least. “Probably for the best. They take some work to keep limber, and no one wants to pass out from blood loss." He stuck the butt end of the Arrow into the ground and let out a long, slow breath, reaching over to press a brief kiss to Sen's temple, heedless of any blood or battlefield dirt.
“I found Reynard and Alaric," he added. “They're both all right, and ready to welcome us into Derdriu as soon as we're keen to make an appearance."
Vi stepped back, his healing so unobtrusive Mercer almost hadn't noticed him doing it, and shrugged. “I'm ready when our fearless leader is. And he's not bleeding anymore."
“Oh, good. I could use a bath, now," he stated, smiling brightly at his friends. “And as your leader," he spoke, glancing towards Cyril and Senka in particular, “you two have to cook because the gods know we've all missed it. And I think it'll serve as a good victory feast for troop morale and all that."
“Only because our fearless leader said it must be done," Senka huffed softly.
“Great, now let's go because we're all filthy and need a bath."
This was it.
The beginning of their new future.
A better future.
He wanted it to last.
Needed it to last.
It was why this battle would be a deciding point for their future. If they couldn't take back Derdriu, then they'd likely lose a war they were fighting so hard to win. Needed to win. Pulling in a breath, he calmed himself before addressing the group.
“You all know what to do. We're going to be reinforcing Alaric's group with ours, and pushing for a pincer attack. As far as we know, the Imperial army isn't expecting us, and are unaware we've arrived. Let's use it to our advantage while we still have it. Sorcha and I will take the skies," he began, shifting his gaze towards her and smiling softly.
“Teach, you and Sen take the right flank with Devon and Sylvi. Vi, you and Thea take the left flank with Sofia and Deirdre. Keep them reinforced until we know we're pushing them back. We don't know if they have demonic beasts or golems with them, however, so keep an eye on the field. We all know how to handle beasts, however," he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, “if you see a golem, don't engage it recklessly. We can't afford to have any of you dying senselessly."
As their leader, he wouldn't be able to bear it.
Teach wore a subtle little smile on his face, offering Mercer a slight nod. “As you say, general," he replied, a certain lightness to it despite the solemnity of the moment. Perhaps that was fitting, really—they had for so long been a team, always confronting together things that seemed at the time beyond them, from that first night in the forest with Sorcha and Vi through to the siege of Garreg Mach and now beyond it. Somehow, even when it hadn't seemed possible, they'd all survived, and managed to keep something of themselves. Something that had bowed under the pressure of five years since, but had perhaps not broken. Could still unbend.
“And if you do see a golem," he added, “remember that the large glowing stone beneath the carapace is its weak point. Worst case scenario, your goal should always be to destroy that, or cause enough damage to disable it so you can get away."
That little tidbit of information was courtesy of Sorcha, who had spent rather a lot of her time in captivity forced to listen to Cornelia's ramblings. At least some of it was useful.
The others all managed some combination of nods and verbal affirmations, and they were ready to go.
“Most of all," he spoke, making sure he made eye contact with every single one of them, “survive. Watch each other's backs and make sure you live to see another day." They nodded once more as Mercer nudged Sir towards the capital. Taking in a deep breath, he murmured, “we're coming, Al. Just hang out a little longer," and Sir took to the skies. With the dying light, it was going to be a bit more difficult to see, however; they still had enough of it that the way he and Sorcha would fly would make them look like tiny specks in the sky. If even that, really. The sun would be used to their advantage, a camouflage of sorts.
Up ahead, he could hear the battle. People were shouting orders, pointing in every direction as if they meant to using a pinning movement to wipe out a small handful of soldiers. Mercer pursed his lips.
“Sorcha," he called out to her, low but still enough that she could hear him. “We're going for that group, there," he stated, pointing towards the soldiers. “We'll free them up so they can be added to the pincer attack," because at this point, they needed as many able bodies they could get. He pulled his bow from his back, and took a breath, fitting an arrow to it. “We'll stay in the skies, though. We can't afford to get knocked off, either."
“Understood." Her bow was already in one hand, but she let go of Liev's reins with the other, steering with her legs as she nocked an arrow to the string. Her old hesitation was gone now; she shot without needing to think about where the arrow was going to go, on an instinct he'd spent nearly a year trying to hone in her.
It was different, though, from even a month ago. She grimaced as she released the shot, lining up the next even as it whistled through the air, catching one of the enemy commanders in the eyeslit of his helm. It toppled him, and the Alliance soldiers in the spot took advantage, swarming that part of the enemy line and punching through. It wasn't enough to break the pin, but a few more like it and they'd be in business.
He followed suit, releasing an arrow to take out another soldier. He wasn't going to make her do all the killing, after all. If he had the choice, he'd have let her sit this one out. But he also knew that Sorcha wouldn't have wanted that. She would have wanted to come, no matter what. Taking a breath, his Crest glowed on his wrist as he narrowed his eyes on the next commander, releasing the arrow and catching the woman in the base of her neck, severing her spine in the process. Quick deaths. Easy deaths.
A few more soldiers were dropped, and the Alliance soldiers were finally able to push free from the pin. He nodded in their direction as they made their way towards the part of the army where Teach was. At least that meant they'd be reinforced from there, if they needed it. He nudged Sir forward, intent on making it to the frontlines to see if he could see Reynard or even Alaric. He knew that Alaric wouldn't be sitting out the battle. That just wasn't the type of person he was.
Alaric fought alongside his soldiers.
The battle seemed to begin in earnest, now. With the freed up soldiers he and Sorcha were able to get to that were added to both Teach's side, and Vridel's, the plan to attack could commence. He glanced in Sorcha's direction, pulling his sword from its sheath. He wanted to reserve his arrows, for now, and he wanted to be on the ground, spearheading the charge alongside the others.
“This is it, Sorcha. Fall back and let the others know we're going to push forward now with the pincer. We need to get to Alaric and Rey. To the others. Join me when you've done so," because he wasn't sending her away. On the contrary, he wanted her beside him when this happened, however; he needed the others to know that now was the time.
“Okay," she said, brows furrowing a little but nodding nevertheless. “Be safe, Mercer. I'll be back soon." Wheeling Liev, she guided the pegasus to her top speed, leaning low over her neck until they were a blur across the sky.
It didn't take long for the message to ripple through the ranks, Teach and Vi leading their flanks towards Mercer for the charge. Sorcha landed next to him a moment later, slinging her bow across her back and drawing Areadbhar. Her eyes were fixed on the field in front of them, the blue hard but no longer cold. Not even close.
“Ready when you are."
He nodded, taking a breath and glancing out in front of him. This was it. This was going to be the deciding battle in who was going to emerge victorious. To be the ones who emerged with a future. He glanced towards Sorcha, before steeling himself.
This was it.
He slid off of Sir's back, and motioned for the wyvern to leave. Sir regarded him with an even stare before taking off. He'd whistle if he needed Sir, back, and they both knew that. Shifting the sword in his hand, he glanced at the battlefield. “Let's do this," he spoke, lunging forward as the soldiers behind him followed suit.
He barreled into the first soldier, quickly plunging his blade into the soldier's abdomen. He pulled it out and moved on to the next. He could hear a few wind spells being used, saw a saggitae, either Sen's or Vi's, and could hear the thrumming of Areadhbar near him. He countered an attack aimed for him, parried another, and cut down another soldier. He could feel the warm blood splash across his face as he grimaced slightly. He had to keep pushing through. Had to keep going.
Alaric was waiting for them. Reynard was waiting for them. Their future was waiting for them.
Around them, the battle roared, his friends visible as little more than glimpses in one moment gone in the next. There, Cyril felled a broad swath of soldiers with a thoron, throwing the Arrow through another's heart and launching himself into another cluster with nothing but his hands, fighting like a man possessed, blank faced and bloody.
There, Vridel, a bright flash of white amidst the muddled colors of the field, bright magic flashing along the blade of his sword, hewing down another and whirling to fling a spell over Thea's shoulder to stagger her opponent. Not far away, Sofia, setting her tower shield against a flank attempt, lance lashing out over the edge to catch those who tried to get around her at Deirdre.
Sylvi had her axe, abandoning her gauntlents, perhaps, in favor of the range the axe provided her, and caught a soldier in the shoulder. Deirdre was flinging fire spells and wind spells to help stagger soldiers who were trying to flank the others. Senka was much flurry as Vi was, using Blutgang to either disarm her opponent's weapons, or literally disarm them. She caught a few with her blizzard spell, and Mercer could see Thea using Amyr more as a throwing axe, occasionally ducking behind the shield she had with her before she recalled Amyr to her.
They were pushing forward. They were succeeding. He grit his teeth, though, and before he could move forward, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him out of the way. The arrow that would have lodged in his neck was now lodged in Sen's arm, as she held it in front of her, the tip of the arrow just inches away from her face. If it pained her, she didn't show, and it looked like it had hit her arm that wasn't her dominant sword one. She'd be okay, for now.
“Go," she spoke, breaking the arrow in half and pushed the other half out of her arm. She held it, though, as she glanced in his direction. “The general was spotted further up. If you and Sorcha can reach him, we have a chance of routing their forces," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly at him. He motioned towards her arm, but she shook her head. “You need to end this, Mercer. Be careful, he doesn't appear to be your typical general," she stated, her brows furrowing deeply. He nodded his head, and she disappeared back into the fray.
Mercer glanced in Sorcha's direction. “Let's end this, Sor," he spoke, pushing forward until he could see the general. He was a rather large man, taller than Teach, perhaps, by an inch or two. Maybe three. It was hard to tell from this distance. He was situated atop an Imperial charger, and donned heavy armor. The shoulders were spiked slightly, almost reminiscent to the Death Knight's armor, however; the difference was the coloring. Where the Death Knight's armor was black, this general's armor was mostly gold with silver trimmings. He donned a large zweihänder at his back. The blade was rather thick for one, however; Mercer had a suspicion it was mostly for show rather than use.
But the man was muscled. He looked like he could swing the weapon with just one hand. Grimacing slightly, he gripped his blade just a little tighter. “With a weapon like that, he's not going to be able to swing as fast. Sor, cover me with whatever arrows you have. If we can keep him on his toes, it shouldn't be too difficult to take him out," he stated. It would require a lot of work, but Mercer believed they could do this.
“Okay, but I'm getting in there if it looks like too much," she said, meeting his eyes intently for a moment. Areadbhar found one of the leather loops at her back, and then drew her bow again, nocking an arrow and setting about the task of clearing his path forward.
To their sides their friends still fought on, bloodier and wearier than they had been at the outset. Devon was limping, but still firing arrows; Vridel's hair and clothes had turned red and pink in places, though how much of it belonged to him was hard to say. Sofia was still hunkered behind her shield, her motions flagging a little but steady. Where Teach had gone was unclear, but from the free space on their left flank, it was a fair guess he'd pushed the line back a bit.
He nodded in response and lunged forward. Even he was starting to feel the effects of a prolonged battle, but he couldn't show it. He had to keep pushing forward until they had won. Or died.
When he'd made it to the man who was, supposedly, the general, Mercer fixed him with a harsh stare. He simply lifted his blade towards the man who drew his own from his back, however; a hand placed itself on his arm as if to stop him. Beside him, hidden from view, was a smaller person. Feminine from the way her armor was made. Her silver helm had a long black feather from it, and she regarded him with cold dead eyes. She pulled her bardiche from her back, and leveled it at Mercer. Was she the actual general?
Whatever it was, he readied his sword. The larger man moved back as if to give them room for this strange duel he'd silently agreed to with this woman. She lunged towards him, quick and smooth-like. Mercer barely had enough time to dodge, and the bardiche caught him in the shoulder. His armor, light as it was, managed to protect him for now, however; with an onslaught of attacks, it wouldn't hold up for long. The downsides of bringing light armor into battle, he supposed. He lunged for her with his sword, swiping horizontal at her. Poled weapons were usually not so useful for attacks like that, however; she seemed to block it with ease.
Mercer gritted his teeth together. He wasn't going to have the energy for this. Something had to give, one way or another. At least her companion hadn't joined in on the battle, and seemed content to let her do most of the work. She continued a barrage of attacks at him, blocking and parrying every attack he threw at her until she'd mostly had the upper hand. If something didn't give, soon, she was going to win this battle.
“Mercer!" Sorcha's attempt to interfere was blocked by the large man, but she did manage to fling a healing spell his way before she was forced to leap back and draw Areadbhar. “You're not allowed to die!" she called, staving off a heavy swing of the large man's blade with the pole of the Relic. “Your life is mine, right?! You better keep it safe for me!"
She swung the spear with a mighty heave, clearly fighting to get through to where he was, to help him, but an armored bulwark like that man wouldn't go down quickly or easily, not even to Sorcha.
He would have laughed, really. He wasn't allowed to die, was he? “Yeah, Mercer! You're not allowed to die, you stupid fish face!" it was Thea's voice, next, and Mercer blocked an attack from the general with a little more ease as Thea appeared. It seemed that she was helping Sorcha, now, and Mercer felt a strong wave of relief wash over him. Two people might be able to bring the man down, but Mercer focused his attention on the woman. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she thrust her bardiche at him once more, however; unlike him, she had no one to fling a healing spell towards her. No one to help her. Mercer might have felt bad about it, but he couldn't afford to.
Not when so many lives were at stake.
He pushed back, swinging with a bit more vigor in her direction, forcing her back until she was on the defensive, now. He could hear Sorcha and Thea working together, Amyr and Areadhbar both clashing with the man's weapon, however; with a final thrust, his blade slipped past her poled weapon, finding a home past her chest armor, and into her heart. Her eyes widened with surprise as her grip on the bardiche loosened and it fell from her hands.
“You won't... win," she spat, gripping the blade with her hand. “He won't let you... win," she spoke before her arm fell limp at the same time the large man screamed. He was silent afterwards. Mercer sighed, putting his foot to the woman's shoulder and pushing her off of his blade. In the distance, he could hear the cries of victory, the joyous ringing of a bell somewhere, however; he turned his attention to where Thea and Sorcha were, and smiled.
“Come on, then," the new voice belonged to Vi. “I'd best finish patching you up; no one's going to want the man of the hour bleeding all over the carpet."
Sorcha giggled, the lightest sound she'd made since they found her. “I dunno. Scars are kind of heroic, right?"
“I can always leave them if you want," Vi drawled.
Mercer pursed his lips together. He opened his mouth to say something, however; someone else spoke first.
“Attractive. I think the word you're looking for is attractive," Senka spoke, smirking in Mercer's direction as she stood next to Thea and folded her arms over her chest. Her arm seemed to be healed, probably due to the plethora of healers on the team there were, or by herself.
“I think I'd rather be healed so I don't bleed to death, heroic or otherwise," he deadpanned. This brought a light laugh forth, though, and Mercer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. This... he missed this.
Teach took a moment more to join them, but seemed to have caught the end of the conversation at least. “Probably for the best. They take some work to keep limber, and no one wants to pass out from blood loss." He stuck the butt end of the Arrow into the ground and let out a long, slow breath, reaching over to press a brief kiss to Sen's temple, heedless of any blood or battlefield dirt.
“I found Reynard and Alaric," he added. “They're both all right, and ready to welcome us into Derdriu as soon as we're keen to make an appearance."
Vi stepped back, his healing so unobtrusive Mercer almost hadn't noticed him doing it, and shrugged. “I'm ready when our fearless leader is. And he's not bleeding anymore."
“Oh, good. I could use a bath, now," he stated, smiling brightly at his friends. “And as your leader," he spoke, glancing towards Cyril and Senka in particular, “you two have to cook because the gods know we've all missed it. And I think it'll serve as a good victory feast for troop morale and all that."
“Only because our fearless leader said it must be done," Senka huffed softly.
“Great, now let's go because we're all filthy and need a bath."
This was it.
The beginning of their new future.
A better future.