[center][h3][color=E4D00A]Hugh – Westroad Village[/color][/h3][/center]

The leader of the Reclaimers was momentarily at an impasse.  Personally, he'd never dealt with a hostage situation before, and had no idea what the best way to resolve it was.  At the very least, he knew he wasn't laying down his weapons.  He expected that other knights might decide to be the foolish heroes, and demand that the entire platoon disarm themselves, but Hugh felt differently.  If Malboro had his way, he'd likely kill them all, and the lives of this army outweighed the lives of a single Dancer in his eyes, as much as it hurt to say it.

He hadn't long to think about the scenario, however, before his allies began to respond.  Hugh watched in horrified fascination as Nickolas raised and then desecrated one of the carcasses the previous battle had lain on the ground.  To be sure, Hugh had little sympathy for worthless hooligans who lived by stealing from and killing those only slightly better off than they, but to see such a ghastly ritual performed on anyone would have made the knight gag.  He barely even noticed Gaius.

Plain to see, Malboro was repulsed as well, but he did not waver in his position.  The taunts of the dark mage provoked from him a snarling response.  “Don't think so, maniac.  I'm a bad man, but at least I'm not crazy.  That display of your reminds me of a Grimleal Cult I helped clean out back in the day, when I was still a hero.  Are you a cannibal too, I wonder?  Hardly the kind of warrior you'd expect to find in the noble Reclaimers.”  He smirked before casting his eyes to Syrena, upon which any glee he might have hosted faded away.  The little girl was wise beyond her years; Malboro had known from the beginning that if he used up his bargaining chip, he'd have nothing left to shield him from the wrath of the opposing forces.  Quickly, he searched for a clever reply—perhaps a bluff of his own.

During that time, however, he had not been paying full attention to either Jeane or Habeen, acknowledging their chatter but expecting it to be nothing more than quibbling over the moral dilemma with which they were faced.  The Mire sputtered against his leather armor, hissing and steaming, and a little splashed on the dancer as well.  Dark magic, it seemed, especially given its users' typical luck, wasn't so easily controlled.  Regardless, Malboro cursed, flinched, and lost his grip on not his sword, but the dancer.  The woman, still red-eyed from the pain, pushed away from him but tripped, and the brigand leader thrust out a leg and kicked her toward the Reclaimers for a distraction of his own.  Holding his injured hand, he ran backward toward the guard tower, yelling, “Charge!”  His men, not at all confident of the situation, hesitated, neither charging nor retreating.  Malboro raced up the ladder and out of sight.

[center][h3][color=DC143C]Sanguin – Westroad Village[/color][/h3][/center]

The next instant, Sanguin was after him, like a wolf gotten the trail of bloodied prey.  Her impetuous advance brought her head-to-head with one of the spear-wielding soldiers that Malboro had left behind, and without hesitation she brought her scimitar around in an ebony arc, smashing past the soldier's weapon and jarring the hands with which she wielded it.  A moment later, the blade cut a bloody ribbon across the bandit woman's ribcage, and the two were locked in close-quarters-combat.

The remaining five soldiers stepped back, not wanting to surround Sanguin despite the opportunity, lest they leave themselves open to a brutal demise at the hands of another Reclaimer.  Hugh raised his lance and shouted, “After him!  Someone check on the girl!”  He hailed Dylan.  “Hey!  If we all go up the ladder, we're at his mercy at the top.  Find somebody lightweight and fly up there, keep him occupied while another pair ascends!  If he's got both an axe and a sword, he's at an advanced fighting level, so be careful!”