[center][h2][color=b5a0d2]Steffen Gravinir[/color][/h2][/center][hr]
He was glad the former-mercenary lad had the same idea, though he hoped Gerard would have taken a few companies with him. It is a pretty easy position to be encircled, like he himself said. If he got into a fight, he'd be in trouble. 

Steffen took a bit longer to get his own patrol going, calling upon a few other knights to form up before moving. He also took the northern edge, trailing behind Sir Gerard from a distance, being ready to cover for him in case of an attack, but also to cover anything the young knight might have missed. 

He could hear bits and pieces of the commotion that was happening with Fanilly: the mercenary mage with Lady Veilena, with the towering Haelstadt behind one of them. Nothing surprising, aside from the two latter individuals being here for some reasons. Worth a deep investigation into it for sure. But soon, the attention was snapped to the treelines. Movements, a lot of them.

Ah, the mystery of yesterday showed up. With new reinforcement this time. 
  
[color=b5a0d2]"Behind me."[/color] Steffen instructed the knights that accompanied him. They were outnumbered, but the confidence of victory laid with the knights, as they moved slowly in Gerard's direction. 

For many years, the Ingvarrs achieved a degree of mysticism that preceded them and accompanied Steffen every step of the way, more often an annoying stigma to shake off, but today, just today, in front of the despicable slavers, the murderers and the abominable, he would gladly embrace that image, to demonstrate the dread that these northern warriors would instill deep into the nightmares of soldiers and combatants across the continent. 

One of the charging hounds would immediately find its heads ruptured from a quaking overhead slam of the metallic spear. The aftershock of such a blow allowed him to impale the hound through the forehead for a quick finish. In the time the hound dissipated, another would make its jump on him, only to be bashed in the face with the crescent shield and swiped aside in the same movement. The Ingvarr didn't even bother finishing it off, his comrades would. 

Behind the hounds was a Boar's human member - the ones that would actually feel pain and terror. Right now, there wasn't any yet, as he fearlessly bellowed his battle cry and charged. At the same time, a juxtaposing lullaby echoed, which saw Boar's speed slowing down. His movement lacked the same energy and precision as before. 

He was going to just stab this Boar with the spear, but no. That would be too kind. 

His spear shifted left to his shielded hand, leaving his right hand bare. As the Boar fell and made its swing, its speed and ferocity had been dampened considerably that allowed Steffen to easily intercept and grab hold of the blade's handle, forcefully removing it from the Boar's grip, which in this case was not very strong. The Boar having just realized this, could only register one more thing before the Ingvarr skewered him in the chest with his own sword in an uppercut motion. The force exerted was so powerful it knocked him off his feet and fell on their front, the sword handle impacting the ground first, driving the blade further in his ribcage. 

The spear swapped hands again, and the Ingvarr kept moving. His was a silent but disciplined march towards a loud barbaric horde of slavers and monsters. His voice was reserved for the blood-soaked mercenary in the carnage. 

[color=b5a0d2]"Sir Gerard! You're straying far, get back!"[/color]

Looks like his reputation for recklessness was true. 

[@HereComesTheSnow]