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[color=aa0404]"Sirs."[/color] A calm voice all the more notable for the thrumming undercurrent, a riptide lurking beneath a placid surface, greeted [u]Jarde[/u] and [u]Fleuri[/u]. [color=aa0404]"[i]"Morire.[/i]"[/color]

A rippling arc of reflected light whipped out ahead of a matching arc of steel, cleanly separating a mercenary's head from his shoulders before he could slip around Jarde's guard. The stream flowed back to its origin tainted red with blood, spiraling gently around the tip of Nicomede's [i]spada[/i]. Nicomede's armor, clean and immaculate for the ball, was stained as only fighting close enough to hear your opponent's heart beat could make. Had the stone floor not run with enough already every step would have left a crimson print in the age old dust, and small rivulets ran down every metal edge. Drops had spattered on his cheeks, a stark contrast in the dark to the blue of his eyes. 

It [i]burned[/i] not to accompany Captain Fanilly and the others into the depths to rescue the Nem's sister. Conventional or not, his beliefs as a Mayonite urged him to protect the helpless. And the most helpless person in the entire gods-forsaken structure, beyond a doubt, was her. But the auspices of his protection were not solely for the defenseless, and it would not do to forsake his new friends and colleagues, either, now would it?

[color=aa0404]"I apologize for my tardiness,"[/color] He continued, flowing out of the way of a blow from a bastard sword and pushing it aside with his offhand. His [i]spada[/i] darted out, the concentric spirals at its tip accelerating and tightening as its just barely pierced the weaker armor and skin under his arm. The man barely noticed, readying his own counterattack with a sublime skill and speed wasted upon his profession. Then he faltered, a wet gurgle emanating from his throat as a jet of water stabbed deeply into his chest. The fluid, now truly the burgundy of his earlier cabernet, withdrew with his blade. [color=aa0404]"[i]Lancia.[/i] But there were some stragglers that required my attention. Now, this seems a more even fight, doesn't?"[/color]

And it did, at least to Nicomede. The hooded fellow was definitely the biggest threat, and he began making his way carefully but swiftly through the remaining mercenaries towards Fleuri to assist. His arrival had split some of them away from Jarde, no doubt enough to make the fight much easier for them both, and the truth is that Nicomede didn't hurry. Not to say he didn't make swift progress; but he never seemed hurried. As with all things, he seemed to flow through the opposition. Occasionally he needed to dodge, actually alter his own path to evade danger, but more often than not force was simply directed aside and countered with lethal force. 

Without the benefits of well made full plate armor, the first blood was usually crippling, if not always fatal.

[color=aa0404]"Holding up alright, Sir Fleuri? I imagine Sir Jarde and I will be able to assist in just a moment."[/color]