[center][h1][color=990000][b][u]        NOTHING WITHOUT COST        [/u][/b][/color][/h1][/center][hr][hr]
Gwynne had handily cleaned up her half of the battlefield, leaving only the remaining two imperials on either side of her to be dispatched. The sword taken from their now-deceased cohort had less reach than Adi’s own weapon, not that it would hinder her. She went left first to engage the other swordsman. He was still terrified from her display and kept stepping back with every parry. Adrianna thoroughly controlled the fight until soldier number two made his attack.

Her own stamina was approaching its limit from the protracted battle. She turned to block the incoming axes, throwing them off to one side. The fight needed to be equalized now or she would almost certainly be caught out yet again. Instead of drawing back the sword for an attack, she ran it towards soldier two’s neck and stepped around him. It wasn't a lethal swing but it put it against his throat right as she got to his back. As before Kassandra conjured a thin barrier with her aetheric magics to keep the steel from slicing into flesh as Adi grabbed at the sharp end with her right hand.

This position was uncomfortably familiar: a sword being wrenched against the throat of a hapless captive. Though now there was no wooden pole to stop the cutting edge. She drove her knee into his back without letting up on wrenching the blade back, forcing it all the way through his neck. Her own throat was starting to swell from being almost crushed a moment earlier. Her breathing was labored, but still present unlike the falling severed head. The jolt of energy from Kassandra’s appearance was gone and it was tiring to even raise the now crimson glazed blade.

The final opponent was four steps into a sprinting gait away from her. Meanwhile she was panting, propped up by a hand on her knee. [color=ff3f3f][i]“Oh for fuck’s sake ...”[/i][/color]
She took one more heavy breath and broke into a chasing run after him, dropping the sword she’d stolen. For the first time in the entire battle, not having her armor weighing her down was finally an advantage. Her prey was just as spent as she was, so she converged on him in little time just as he reached the treeline. He thought he was clever grabbing a tree to pivot his momentum into a fast swing of his sword, but Adi wasn’t trained yesterday. She dropped to a slide, ripping a knife through the flesh of his thigh in passing, and vaulted herself on the next tree root back to standing.

The hunter smelled the blood of her prey. Like a wolf she lunged at the injured fighter, driving him to the ground before he could fully turn to face her. With zero hesitation she gouged her knife into the soft tissues of his throat and ripped it open, leaving him choking and sputtering as she gracefully returned to her own two feet. That was the last one to be slain; the battle was finally over. She trudged back, collecting her staff and wiping some of the blood from her hand before scanning the surroundings for the others.

[hr]
The rush, the focus of battle, had faded. Death had a certain fragrance: sweat, blood, ammonia. Her nose coiled at the sickly scent. A few unfamiliar faces were now present, brandishing bows and arrows having done battle from afar. The help was not without appreciation. Her neck was turning unsightly colors from the bruising, but alas she had nothing to hide it with. It seemed some minor injuries were the worst of the damage. For being caught with their pants down, potentially literally for some among them, it appeared the rag-tag band of would-be conquerors had weathered the ambush without fail.

She dragged her feet through the grass and dirt, past weapons and corpses, to clean up what was left of the campsite and collect her belongings. Among the refuse was a body, [i]a woman’s body.[/i] Adi just stood and stared in disbelief. She didn’t know the woman; she didn’t even remember her name. She shouldn’t have felt anything, for she had just cut down half a dozen imperial soldiers without the slightest reservation. She didn’t know them any less than she knew half of the other chosen she fought alongside. But realizing the real price of battle, she felt cold. A shiver ran down her spine, her legs growing weak. Two minutes ago she stopped a broadsword with the bare flesh of her palm. The illusion of invincibility she built for herself fell away, leaving only harsh reality against her bare, vulnerable skin.

Nonetheless she was a chosen, same as all of them. For all their power, their potential, their Gods-given destinies, they were still painfully mortal. Her body had broken all the same under the weight of hammering hooves, caught out when the first riders came through. For having felt untouchable just moments ago, it was a sobering reminder of just how fast everything could go wrong, of how steep the consequences really were. [i]Nothing is without cost.[/i] The lump in her throat felt larger. Her breathing felt more strained, her own mortality subtly reminding her of its existence.