[Center]Alicia Le'roux, East Watchtower[/Center]

As she had predicted, Alicia was able to watch the stealth attacks of Dread Fang and Zayn, as well as Kasim’s…bold arrow attack were quickly rendered obsolete. Adverse to what she had expected, the orc had not lifted a finger. The targets for her fellow Queen’s bladesmen, or bladesbug in the case of the chattering Dread Fang, were mere illusions. The entire group had been had.

The arrival of two more orcs had Alicia worried though. Two sneaks and an archer did not make good company in a close quarters fight. She fancied herself with a chance against any one of these orcs, or half-orcs, as the smaller ones seemed to be, but all three? That would prove catastrophic indeed. She had no real hope of holding off both these lumbering former-ravens, as well as Dirge.

Still, seeing the trio of orcs bow was an amusement in its own right. One couldn’t fault them for their standards or their honour, at the very least. If only she had better company for the fight: this would have been a glorious dance indeed. As it stood, she would have to take a page from the books of the sneaky ones. Trickery would be required in order to win this day.

Hearing Dirge’s bellow for war, Alicia knew that the time of reckoning was upon them. Both the smaller half-orcs, Daren and Oran, charged at Kasim and herself, and Alicia made sure to take a few steps away from the archer and leave a distance of a few feet. In theory, the two orcs should split up: an orc for her and an orc for the archer. She held little care for his fate at the moment: He was meant to be a member of this elite group: if he couldn’t keep one blasted foot soldier at bay, he wasn’t worth saving: at least not in her mind: Acceptable losses, and all that.

She waited for the two orcs to start splitting before she actually moved forward. If she engaged too early, they would collapse in upon her. If she waited too long, then the element of surprise would be lost.

[i]She was back in Liveria, a much younger woman who held her sword slightly askew. The middle-aged woman was barking instructions from across the hall about form and poise, and invited Alicia to begin the sparring duel. Alicia cleared her throat as she entered the polite stance, expected at the start of the duel: only to feel her feet swept out from under her and the dull combat blade at her throat. “You let your guard down, most foolish indeed, young Alicia. You expected me to wait for you to complete the proper etiquette? Do you expect me to allow you to pretty up war? Would that have been fair? Fair is for fairy tales; stand up and try again.”[/i]

Alicia gave the Orc that charged her two steps before she moved: the hulking figure was bigger than her: Probably stronger as well, even with her vampire heritage. It didn’t matter. Alicia never banked on being the stronger fighter. She preferred being the faster one.

Alicia threw the parasol forward and into the air. It would prove an adequate distraction for the Half-orc as she lunged forward with the Rapier at the ready. She didn’t go straight for a strike: instead she charged forward and aimed to move to his side: so that she might thrust the rapier into his weapon-side armpit. Armour was always weak where movement was needed the most: and even the strongest plate didn’t defend under the armpit. 

The feel of the sunlight tickling her skin was agony, and she longed for the parasol, yet her attention was set upon the Half-orc. She would kill him first, then retrieve her shade. 

She only just realised she had never given orders to Jacque. Was he standing outside the village with that silly little donkey? The thought had her smiling, even in the middle of the carnage.