Gwyn’s stalemate didn’t last for long, however. The clattering of the bow against dirt, followed by Ash’s own haphazard approach, caught the attention of undead swordsman, his jaw click-clacking together as he turned to face the new arrival. In that moment, Gwyn pushed forward, discarding her own staff as she grappled the armored skeleton. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pushed forward, a prayer already on her lips as light spilled from her hands, the power of supplication manifesting itself.

But it was as far as she got, before the undead warrior drove his knee into her chest, before one hand grasped her by the waist and tossed her off, sending her sliding against the ice. Ash’s assistance came a moment before he could leap in to finish Gwyn off, and their swords sprayed sparks at they collided, ringing metal filling the air as they dueled. Cut and parry, thrust and deflect. The ranger’s wrists grew sore during the deadly dance, the difference in skill being felt with every movement, every stroke. On the icy terrain, where her core muscles clenched just so she could generate the strength to land an effective attack, Ash found it harder and harder to keep up.

Rangers, after all, weren’t trained off the bat to face foes alone.

With the crunch of a steel edge against armor, the swordsman swatted away Ash’s machete before charging in with a burst of speed, intending on putting an end to this farce and running her through.

Ettamri’s own greatsword swung with force unrivaled even by creatures unburdened by the weakness of flesh. Taken directly, there was no doubt she’d be able to decimate these skeletal warriors the same way she singlehandedly caved in the skull of the giant toad. Rather than the sundering of steel and the pulverizing of bone, there was only the whistling of wind. Moments before impact, the skeletal warrior had dropped down flat, his body sliding through the slick ice as Ettamri’s sword flew overhead. Engaging her in extremely close combat, his short spear struck upwards, a viper aiming for the underside of the white knight’s jaw.

Ettamri was skilled though. This surely wouldn’t be the end for her.

On the other hand, it very may well be the end for Muu.

Still trying to find her feet on the treacherous ground, the Bladedancer wasn’t able to respond in time to the charging axe man, who shoulder-charged her, his skeletal mass still sufficient to smash the smaller girl through the shanty wall and into the decaying hut. Broken bits of wood pierced her skin, and one or two of her ribs must have fractured from the tremendous impact. She wheezed painfully, but her foe gave her no respite, raising his axe over his head to deliver a mortal blow to his prone opponent.

She had less than a second to respond, and even if she did, perhaps it wouldn’t be enough.