[u][center][h2]Marianne Delacroix[/h2][/center][/u]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Jr0Uu63.png?1[/img][/center]

The last body of the guards falling to the ground with a [i]thud[/i], Marianne withdrew her sword from him. Flicking her wrist and blade to cast off the crimson liquid, drawing a faint splattering line on the dark ground as she did so. Her ears alerting to a new, foreign noise, Marianne looked up to discern their source and her heart nearly stopped beating. Her blood running cold and her eyes widened as she took in the horrors of animated, decrepit bones of the long-since passed. Taking a step back, fear gripped her heart and prevented her from taking any further action as she scanned with slight turns of her head. There were too many of them for her to count, but it wasn't the numbers that overwhelmed her. It was a potentially lethal cocktail of emotions and feelings that was the culprit. As a man whom Marianne could only deduce to be one of the conspirators addressed them, she desperately worked to formulate a plan. Some sort of counter, anything! To combat these moving cadavers.

None of her life's training ever prepared her for this.

Over a decade's worth of learning, made worthless in the eyeless faces of the skeletons. The Delacroix Knights only ever practiced effective and efficient methods of conducting combat against the living. Never once was there an area which covered anything less or more than human. You couldn't cut vital veins and arteries when your adversary had none to cut. You couldn't stab a heart or crush a brain when their organs had long since rotted away. Cutting away an arm and leg meant nothing to something that didn't require them to function or ambulate. Marianne's mind blanked as all she could focus on was intense dread and foreboding. She had nothing. She was worthless here. What had she been thinking? Of course they would be facing foes such as this. Why hadn't she thought to prepare beforehand? Why hadn't she realized? She knew of no holy magic and if she were to rely on her Lightning-bolt Javelin spells now, she would be a helpless mess against any other enemies that lay in wait for the Iron Roses.

All she could do was watch.

As the sweat that clung to her body underneath her armor and clothing turned cold, Marianne trembled in the gnarling and clattering flocks of the horde. All she could do at the moment was watch as her brave and foolhardy allies charge forward, using brute strength that she herself did not have to simply batter away their bones. Bashing, crashing, and crushing admirably as her comrades did not falter as she did. A wave of relief washing over her ever so slightly when...[i]one[/i] of the Sults cast a protective spell that at the very least put distance between the two groups. Any that came too close erupting in holy fire.

[i]"No! This isn't like me!"[/i]
Marianne mentally told herself, shaking her head.
[i]"Focus! Concentrate! You are a Delacroix!"[/i]
Inspired by the actions of her allies, Marianne had a brief moment of clarity.
[i]"If-...If maybe the source of the dark magic was stopped. Maybe they would too?"[/i]
She could only hope she was right in her assumptions, thinking the conspirator that wielded the longsword to be their source of power.
If she was wrong, then Marianne could only hope she would live to tell the tale of her mistakes.
Otherwise, she would be joining the rest of the corpses in this tomb at such a young age.
The thought terrified her.
But it also angered her.
[i]"How dare they defile this tomb for their purposes!"[/i]

Sheathing her sword, she unslung her bow and collapsed its parts into place as she prepared an arrow. She would have to take up a supportive role for now. Once the horde of the fallen had been cleared away enough, she would take her shot at the conspirator. Praying to Reon that her aim be true, for at the moment there were still too many surrounding the conspirator to protect him from her arrows. Stamping her foot against the ground, she regained her courage and distanced herself from the rest of the fighters. Waiting for her moment. As it was, there wasn't much else she could do. Pray and wait. Her hands which held her bow and arrow still shaking slightly. What a terrifying and heretical evil they were combating.