[h1][color=gold]Kane Bounevialle[/color] and [color=lightyellow]Karkadin Gatoa[/color][/h1][sub]featuring [color=lightsteelblue]Kane's Guard[/color][/sub]
[i]Written with [@SepticGentleman][/i]
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Kane felt himself grow furious following Sir Fallon's words. Would he truly sacrifice so many in the name of his own hubris? In case he was unable to tell, the people were already panicked - there were hordes of monsters invading their homes, standing at the ready for whatever catalyst that might trigger the wights' wrath. With his fists clenched, Kane marched forward after Sir Fallon - he was ready to finally speak his mind to that pompous ass, tell Fallon what he really thought, then tell him to lay away in some stable with that horse he loved to ride on so much. However, as he raised his finger, no words came out of his mouth. Nothing but dry silence. In fact, it was not just him, but the entire town had gone utterly mute. A looming darkness crawled from behind Kane, and the captain turned to look behind him, from where that darkness emanated. A sliver of light had penetrated from behind the veil, swirling around until the darkness that shrouded the city had fallen upon itself and sound had returned to Maceron. It formed the silhouette of a human figure.

Kane's hand instinctively went to the pommel of his sword. His spontoon was not currently with him.

When Lutis had appeared, in that ghastly form of robes and chains and the golden armaments of demons, his very presence made a chill crawl up Kane's spine. He spoke of his master Daraden and of his decree - and the unconditional surrender of Talbor. Kane and his own guard looked at one another uncomfortably. Never would they accept such a term. To think that any person would come in and expect such was unthinkable - and yet here they were, making that very demand. Kane would have joined the others in their flagrant mockery of Lutin...

...were it not for the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of wights surrounding them at this very moment. It was doubtless they were without connection, as was confirmed later in his negotiation with King Victor.

When Sir Fallon's knights moved to fall upon Lutin, they were restrained by magical chains that had appeared from nowhere! It seemed only moments later that the defiance of a wounded Sir Fallon was cut short by Lutin's power. An unceremonious end to a corrupt villain's story, as it were. Kane's eyes were like a deer's as all that he had known became irrelevant in the face of Talbor's newest enemy. As Lutin declared a final threat against King Draco, he vanished in a puff of smoke, and the dead began moving amidst a chorus of screams.

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All fell to chaos in seemingly moments. The darkness enveloping the city and suddenly retreating, the ominous hooded figure making his address, the wights growing indomitably restless and breaking through their chains, all setting their attention on the nearest living thing and engaging them. As expected, Bruk was one of the largest targets around, so he had a veritable crowd acting upon him. Karkadin reared back and drew his spear as the wights came close, swinging the thick of the shell at two of them before clambering up the beetle's shell and taking seat atop the creature.

Oscar, still nearby, was nearly overwhelmed by the sudden first wave. However, he was stronger than he looked and was able to support the weight and the force of the clamoring dead from beneath a metal plated tower shield. With a great heave with his whole body, the guardsman threw a good half-dozen skeletal monsters off of him and drew a leaf-bladed gladius from his sheath with his back to Karkadin's beetle. Caught flat-footed, Oscar was wild-eyed as he quickly looked around the battlefield assessing the danger - a wight flung itself on top of Oscar, where he then threw it several feet away, and was continuously harassed by a stream of undead that Oscar had previously dealt with. With moves and footwork surprisingly nimble with the kind of armor Oscar donned, he decapitated the first, shield bashed the second, and with the bash, twirled his feet so that he spun and he could place an armored foot behind the feet of the third that came towards him, and met it with a backhand to the side of its skull. The third fell over, and Oscar took his other boot and crushed the wight's sternum.

These damages were nothing that could keep them down, but buy him enough time while they reassembled. Oscar's eyes fell upon his comrades - Kane, Sten, and Alexander forming a triangle with their backs to each other, moving with each other as naturally as flowing water. Even in defending themselves from overwhelming numbers and great strength, their skill was so that they overshadowed the rudimentary prowess of the city's standard guard. Oscar turned a second to watch Karkadin climb his beetle and defend himself with his spear and the beetle's own strength.

"My Doraki friend!" Oscar yelled over the chaos. "All of the wights we tried to contain have broken loose, there are too many! I suggest we rally with my team!"

Karkadin nodded in reply and yelled back to Oscar, "Get on!"

As strange as it was for the guardsman, Oscar knew there was no time for hesitation. A quick sheathing of his sword and shield, Oscar gripped the chitinous shell of the beetle. As he did so, a wight grabbed onto his leg - a quick kick to its head had rid him of the monster and he finally pulled himself onto Bruk's back. Beside Karkadin, Oscar brandished his javelin.

"Venka!" Karkadin called out, pointing his spear in the direction of Kane and his men. Bruk reeled back and kicked his legs out, pushing back the wights at his side, and then charged forth as he did before. Dozens of the abominations were trampled underneath him as he headed in the direction his master indicated, though they reformed shortly after. Some attempted to grapple onto his side, but Karkadin and Oscar were both doing a fair job of keeping them off. Bruk bashed his way forth, his horn causing wights' bodies to practically explode as they came into contact. Within moments, Bruk was near the trio, and put down half of the surrounding forces to buy them a bit of breathing room. "Nasi!" Karkadin called out, and Bruk took a stand where he was.

"What in [i]blazes?[/i]" Sten swore as sweat dripped down from his nose. He looked down at the sound of a wight reassembling itself at his feet, before crushing the hissing skull once more with an aggravated stomp of his boot.

"Aha!" Alexander cheered at the sight of his comrade riding atop Karkadin's mount next to a mole man. "Oscar, is that you?! Atop an ankro bertis, no less! I fought me one o' these things before!"

The half-orc, even amidst the chaos of the battle, managed to spare a moment for blissful reminiscence. Then there was Kane, his bastard sword in hand, looking up to see a sightly scene - one he could not be more glad to see at such a time like this. True to form, however, Kane cut straight to business.

"Oscar! If you and your friend can stay with Sten and try to keep a clear around the gates for the people to flee through, Alexander can go around and cut paths and evacuate some of the citizens. I need to find John and help those along the way!"

There was a slight of hesitation in Oscar, but he knew that Kane was the sort that thought everything through, wrack his brain with everything he's got. Perhaps they had finally found a hopeless situation.

"Yes sir."

"Oscar," Kane continued, "there's an old gnome in a carriage in the corner of the square. I believe he can help you."

"An... old gnome?"

"Have faith!" Kane called as he turned and began his run through an alleyway. He disappeared in its crevices, followed by the sounds of shrieking wights, which were soon cut short. Sten looked to Oscar, throwing his hand up for help getting on top of the beetle, inviting himself on. Karkadin proceeded to turn his head and point his spear towards the gates Kane made mention of, and once again called out, "Venka!" Bruk's mandibles clicked loudly as he picked up speed and battered down more and more wights along the path. Once they reached the gates, Karkadin shouted back to Oscar and Sten, "Get off!" And he did so himself, before they could follow his action.

"Gnome, gnome..." Oscar muttered to himself as he slid down Bruk's shell. He found the carriage off in the corner, but whoever was there must have fled some time ago - because it was empty. With no other lead, Oscar gave up that order and situated himself beside Karkadin. Though short next to the Dorak's towering height, he no less stalwart with the heavy armor and great shield at his disposal. He poised himself in a defensive stance, with the edge of his sword gliding against a curved-in corner of his shield.

Sten, however, remained where he was on top of Bruk. His sword was sheathed, but in its place was a heavy looking crossbow and a bolt being notched on its string. Several other bolts were being latched onto a revolving conveyor - a contraption inspired by long time enemy Ignia and their weaponry. With each shot, a gear turned shortly after and moved the conveyor so that a bolt would be set in the crossbow's rail. A lever action crank was at the crossbow's side that helped to pull the string most of the way back.

"Just keep an eye on Alex in case he forgets he's [i]not[/i] supposed to die out there." Sten commented as he took aim into the horde of wights. In the distance, one was chasing a man. In the man's panic, he tripped on the road's brickwork. Before the wight had a chance to fall upon him, it's skull exploded as a bolt shot out from the powerful crossbow. Sten cranked the lever and pulled the string the rest of the way himself. Oscar looked into the distance, and was barely able to make out the face of the man Sten had just saved.

Karkadin, however, failed to notice Sten's remaining on top of the beetle before he turned and called out, "Divae!" It was only then he saw Sten taking aim, but it was too late. Bruk immediately began to act on his own accord, making short charges at the surrounding wights, spinning and sweeping his horn to toss them aside. This, of course, made for very poor footing for the man riding atop of him. Bruk was no horse, not like Sten was used to. Straddling the smooth chitinous surface was something of a chore, but Sten was nothing if not an accomplished marksman and equestrian.

When he slid forward, he found himself at the base of the head with his back against the shell, snuggled between Bruk's two elytra panels. The movements were erratic and wild - maybe something like a wild horse, but more skittish, uncontrollable, and alien - but the beetle could move all he wanted. All Sten needed was to keep himself braced and compensate for his aim.

Oscar stood his ground beside Karkadin, stealing glances at his new ally when he could spare the time between cutting down savage wights. The Dorak was capable, keeping wights at a distance, some of them even turning themselves into kebabs, but weighing down his spear. Which Karkadin would promptly slide them off with his foot and get straight back into action. Karkadin's skill warranted further questions of where he came from - but Oscar was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth in his time of need! All that mattered was allowing survivors to escape Maceron. As Alexander cut swathes through the horde, going from house to house, more and more survivors began to making a run for the gates. Sten covered their escape from atop Bruk, shooting down any chasers.

"How are you holding up, my friend!" Oscar yelled out, keeping several wights at bay with his shield - his own weight was too much for them to push back while he kept himself rooted. From behind his shield, it was easy pickings to sink his blade into their heads. As long as their attention was on them, that was one less wight chasing the survivors - but as they attracted more wights, the objective of defending the gates grew harder. Karkadin was somewhat preoccupied, and his delayed answer of "Fine!" came after he kicked back a wight running at him with a club.

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[sub][@Maxx][/sub]
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Kane had to find John.

A young man like him with only his own hands to defend himself wasn’t going to last long alone. His training was far from done and was only up to par to the guardsmen of the city, and well... they were dropping like flies. Every time he had to step over one of their helmets, Kane’s heart sunk. The wights may be higher populated in the square, but even back in the alleys, the density was nearly unbearable. With each wight charging themselves at him, Kane felt more and more run down – and they would keep getting back up, only to follow a short while later. Along with this, each step of the way, he’d barge into whatever home or building and evacuate whoever resided in there – or slew, whichever of the two came first. He had to get as many people out of this town as he could.

He came back to the one side street where they had rounded up one selection of wights before. None of them remained; they had dispersed since then, hunting down whatever living being they could find... the nightmarish fiends. But more immediately pressing was the massive scorch mark on the ground, as if an explosion or a fire had taken place here. Now that he thought about, a number of loud noises rang up around the city but was too busy trying to fight off the swarm of wights to do or think anything about it. Blackened bones were littered about.

Blackened bones... were [i]littered[/i] about.

Kane’s plan was to burn up what he rounded together, simply out of hope – but was it really the secret for keeping these guys down? He eyes traveled up and down this alley curiously, before a glint of light flickered from the ground. There it laid, his spontoon, on the ground and against the wall. With these things wearing him down, keeping distance was becoming more and more important. As he approached it, a wight jumped out from another alley from the side. With a side swipe of its rusted hatchet, Kane’s sword was ripped from his hand by the wight’s superior strength, and the wight moved in for the kill. Kane moved to grab the creature’s wrists, fighting it in a grapple as its skull moved inches closer. He felt its unnatural strength pressing upon him, slowly and barely moving Kane back toward the wall. He was being overpowered.

Kane roared as he swung around, holding the wight by the wrists, and using the creature’s own strength against it, slamming it against the stone wall that was once behind him. The wight’s bones were rattled, and it was immediately thrown onto the ground – Kane used their inertia to go down with him, using his armored forearm to crush the wight’s neck, and his knee shattered various ribs. The wight’s head began rolling off, before the invisible threads connecting them started to slowly reassemble itself. Kane, with great haste, grabbed his sword and sheathed it, then lunging for his spontoon. The half-pike, now in his possession, felt like the most natural form of the entire Knights’ arsenal.

Kane hurried back to the storage house in front of the great scorch mark to check for survivors. Inside, he found a South Nepharian man with a rapier, and a young fairfolk woman behind him – and a number of recognizable citizens behind those two. A few hopeful, though silent whispers chattered through them.

“It’s Kane...!”

“Sir Bounevialle?”

“You must hurry!” Kane urgently said to them, taking deep breaths between words. His eyes looked as though he were still in the middle of a battle and stray locks of hair fell into his face. “My men have taken point at the main gates; there you can evacuate the city! I had fell the wights on the way, but they won’t be down for long! Come, go!”

The wight that he had taken down earlier and risen faster than expected, and leaped onto Kane’s back; Kane was quick to react though, and slammed  his back into the corner of the doorway, causing the wight’s bones to shatter in several places. It let go, and Kane took the shaft end of his spontoon to violently bludgeon it to the ground, and its bones scattered across the alleyway. This time it won’t be back up for a while. As quickly as Kane had come, he had left, pressing his charge down the way in search of John.