The Troll tanked the claw swipe, and clenched its massive fist. Its next punch snapped outward like a fierce club blow -from a troll no less- and sent Ursaren skidding back. It would be a bit hard for Ursaren to breathe properly for a bit. Luckily, Argon was there to wade into the battle with his sword, hacking hard at the Troll's forearm. The Troll growled, tearing his arm back. Argon hissed, and bashed it in the head with his shield, stunning it. It shouldered Argon away, the relatively large Lizardman still being sent off his feet by the blow, though the Troll was stunned! 

Beren and Geradin fought side by side, the Dwarf hacking with his hammer and bashing foes back with his shield, taking hits with his heavy armor and sturdy constitution. Beren had since tired down somewhat, but he was still moving with swift reaction time and fierce hits. His corded muscles glistening in the sunlight with sweat, now wielding both his axe and staff in his hands. He could not use the staff effectively in one hand, of course. But he used it as an extra blocking (and prodding) tool as he spun and cleaved with his Dwarven Axe. Now that there were no reinforcements for the time being, and more importantly, the miasma behind the Rogs was demoralizing them somewhat, the two warriors pressed their advantage. Beren kicked a smaller Rog into the Miasma, and then waved to Alice, showing her he heard and was appreciative! 

Suddenly, a forgotten beast bounded out of one of the alleyways. It was a great red Elk, snorting some of the Miasma from its nose. It was Brogach! As if on cue, Calanon the Ranger was spotted by Alice atop one of the three story buildings to the northeast, around the wall of Miasma. He called out, exclaiming he found a place to hide it seemed. His arrows began flying as he cried out, thinning the ranks of the Rogs that were still alive, and spitting two that were encroaching upon young Mags. 

The Rog Captain growled, and gave a coarse cough. Blood seeped out of its lower helmet, indicating blood from the mouth. Still, like the cockroaches they were often compared to, the Rog was resilient and still remained upright, though shaky. It gripped its Halberd, raising it and pointing the tip at the grounded Skayleigh, crying out as it thrust forward. Only for an arrow to ping it in the helmet, offputting it somewhat. It growled, readjusting the helmet and swinging wildly to keep anything in front of him at bay as it did so.

[@The Fated Fallen][@Fetzen][@BCTheEntity][@Sypherkhode822][@Banana]