[center][color=#008b8b][h2]Fionn MacKerracher[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@Crimson Paladin][@VitaVitaAR][@Psyker Landshark]
[hr]

[color=#008b8b]"Curse hounds, you said?"[/color] Fionn asked just as the Boars' forces began to show from the treeline, already stepping towards the one that seemed clearly to be the leader. [color=#008b8b]"That's good, actually. I was worried I might have to behave myself. Renar, be a good lad and keep an eye on her, will you?"[/color] His blade slid smoothly out its sheathe as Tyaethe lunged forwards and Gerard yelled over at the north end of the clearing, his own pace quickening as a grin grew beneath the shadow cast by his helmet.

The fetid, distempered imp that had tried to attack the princesses hadn't been a fight at all, and dreams and training did not make up for actual combat. If these Boars wished to rush to the slaughter, then he would try to be accommodating to their needs. [color=#008b8b][i]It's only polite, after all.[/i][/color]

He sprinted wide around the whirlwind that was Tyaethe as many of the mercenaries tried in vain to overwhelm her with numbers; one of the faster hounds leaped at him, and he ducked low, its snapping jaws going clear over his head where they'd been aimed for his throat. He straightened quickly, driving his shoulder into its ribs and sending it up in the air; a relaxed backhand swing with his longsword neatly opened its back half, the hound landing in a spray of its own black ichor hissing and smoking on the ground as it thrashed around in its death throes. One of the Boars ran at him next, swinging a mace at his chest.

Fionn lunged forwards, first putting his left forearm against the Boar's weapon arm to stop it before slamming bodily into the mercenary and sending him toppling over. He wasted no time; the most the fallen Boar got was a single stomp to the now-open throat as Fionn carried along. A second, too much of a spendthrift to even afford a back to match his breastplate, had ribs and spine severed as the Veltic knight surged onwards, the tip of his blade coming back fowards, quick as a viper and coated in red. A scream punctuated the roars and yells of the fighters, and Fionn glanced back in Tyaethe's direction for a moment.

His left hand shot up, grabbing a severed forearm that had just flown his way, a dagger still tightly clutched in its hand. He hacked outwards at another of the mercenaries that stepped in close to him, splitting that one's hand in half, sending them quickly retreating and clutching at the flood pouring from their glove, before wrenching the dagger out of the loosening fingers, disarming the dismembered arm.

[b][color=#008b8b]"PIG!"[/color][/b] he bellowed at the Boars' leader, arm cocked like a spring; at the slightest hint of recognition, he sent the dagger flying for the man. [color=#008b8b]"Get over here and at least pretend you're worth that armour!"[/color]