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[color=#ffff66][i]Song and dance most likely predate language.[/i][/color]

Lynx had said something akin to that once. The memory of it smeared with the smashing of metal weapons and shouts. A lump in his throat jostled as he hit the ground in a roll tinged by sleep. As he fixated more on the sensation of it, the odd everyday annoyance striking during battle, it began to dawn on him. His magic was nullified. An entire method of communication and combat, gone. His tongue rolled in his mouth the way someone would grope the stump of a limb that had been chopped off. 

The adrenaline of the realization overpowered the fleeting traces of weariness. [color=dde0c7]"Now!"[/color] he shouted. 

Lynx careened towards Tayla's attacker, claws bared. Rather than connect with their intended target, all twenty hit the ground and scattered like loose nails in a workshop. Octavio watched his familiar buckle and roll and followed the momentum with his own movements. Misfortune surrounded them, sure, but he had two coin flips. 

His dagger messily connected with the servant's abdomen, Lynx a blur as he fought to intimidate another male servant that had been stalking behind. 

[color=#ffff66][i]The misfortune intensified the distraction.[/i][/color] They could still communicate mentally, at least.

Octavio dug the dagger out and engaged in a scuffle with the servant. Arms and legs intersected in a series of crude grapples and shoves, both winding their movements with care that reached trepidation and ending by crashing them into one another. A single misstep from either would prove fatal. The brief war of attrition ended in Octavio's favor, however, with the man stumbling for a pause just long enough for him to go for a second attack. The way the dagger pierced the servant's skin was a far cry from the precision Octavio had developed throughout his travels, but it got the job done, so to speak. Any sense of victory dissipated with his second foe.

The second male servant, now free of Lynx's flurries, tore the gap and air between them. Octavio wheeled himself to use the dying man as a shield, then pushed the man forward, watching his body morph. Lynx continued his barrage of feints and bites sensing the opening. Despite the teamwork the second servant proved to be a tougher fight, their short swords clashing and streaking near the stumbling soon to be corpse. Octavio made greedy cuts across the man's upper body, and received one across his arm in turn. The sting of pain made him hop backwards. He had to be more careful. His illusion magic... it was smoldered, not extinguished, he realized. He already knew it wouldn't be enough to form a whole person. But just how much did the servants know?

[color=dde0c7]"Rise! My undead servant! Annihilate our prey!"[/color]

The dying man's eyes. He coated them in a thin sheen of white. It was entirely useless, but they didn't know that. The man would appear, for the briefest of moments, to be reanimated. Or so that was the plan. The second servant made a move to step back, but he was faster. His dagger scraped across the servant's face, then closed in on his throat. This second opponent too morphed in front of his eyes. Their bodies slumped on the cold floor, entirely changed in their features. 

Octavio exhaled loudly, towards both Tayla and Lynx. [color=dde0c7]"That first act of theirs was clever, I'll give them that. Although there's an air of inexperience to them, as if they were actual servants."[/color] He remembered having called them amateurs during the tour. [color=dde0c7]"I almost feel bad."[/color] He looked down at his dagger and tutted. [color=dde0c7]"Now my sleeping knife is all dirty."[/color] 

Lynx tensed his front legs the way a man would ready a weapon. [color=#ffff66]"There is no time to rest. We should expect more threats and seek the others." [/color]