When it came to a test of strength like this, Fanilly couldn't deny she was at a disadvantage. For all the finesse that had been drilled into her, there was no ignoring the fact that the armored man was stronger then she was, and likely carried with him significant experience. But... she couldn't give in!

"You're not cut out for this, little girl," he snarled as he forced her back, "Let me demonstrate!"

She couldn't keep holding him back much longer, not with the undead he had brought with him...!

But at that very moment, Sir Gerard broke through the skeletons, bringing his sword down for a devastating overhead blow! Now it was the armored man's turn to be on the back foot, forced to disengage from Fanilly to save his own life, using the side of his blade as a barrier between his head at the edge of the knight's weapon.

The instant she got an opening, Fanilly surged forward, the razor tip of her sword glinting in the light of the torches as she immediately targeted one of the gaps in the man's armor. Cursing, he sprang back, clearly having anticipated his wall of skeletal reinforcements to withstand assault a little longer, even if they were capable of reforming provided there was enough of them to keep moving.

"Somewhat more capable then I'd thought, then," he commented, swiftly making more distance between himself as several of the remaining skeletons moved in to delay the knights' approach. Fanilly's eyes narrowed... this was cowardice, wasn't it? He'd only wanted to fight when he had a clear advantage, but now that he had two opponents he was making sure they couldn't close the gap and avoiding any direct conflict.

"Your undead won't protect you, nor will they prevent us from carrying out our duty," Fanilly asserted, raising her sword towards the man as the skeletons raised their weapons to defend him, "Surrender now and you will at least live to be brought before a court."

"Hah, as if you're in any position to make such demands," he replied, his free hand digging into the pouch a his hip. What he drew forth was something gleaming, red, a sort of talisman...?

"Tell me, Iron Rose Knights, have you ever heard the name Reddb-"

But before he could demonstrate whatever it was the talisman did, he let out a cry of pain, dropping the talisman immediately!

There, slipped into the joint at his elbow, was a gleaming dagger! Fanilly was suddenly struck by the realization that the ensuing chaos had made it difficult to keep track of the nem. Had Vosahnn...?

If she had, she had done her best to immediately return to the right side of the room, getting out of the way as swiftly as possible.

"Damn you little bitch! Kill her, kill her!" the armored man growled, clearly suspecting that the nem had been responsible. The skeletons lurched towards her, and Fanilly almost immediately sprang into action, bringing her sword sharply downwards and causing one to collapse into a heap of bone, fracturing its skull.

Now he was directly targeting Vosahnn, but at the same time, his anger and pain had lead to him making a critical mistake. The undead he'd used as a wall were departing in their attempt to kill the nem, leaving him open to a direct attack...!

[hr]

The armored Barukstaedian's axe swung again, and again, as he kept up his assault. However, Tyaethe's taunting seemed to have served only to make him somewhat annoyed... it was clear he either cared little for the fate of the Vos Korvungand, or quite simply because he was more concerned with the fight at hand then anything else.

This time, however, the runes on his axe were beginning to glow... the next strike he made would have considerably more [i]explosive[/i] force behind it!

The agility possessed by the hooded man was almost unreal. Not, it absolutely was. Just how could a man move so swiftly? How could a human being move with such agility? His strikes, the manner his body moved, it didn't seem as if it should have been possible.

But an Iron Rose Knight had likely seen such swiftness before, hadn't they?

The next strike that Fleuri made was not parried or dodged.

It was caught.

The man's hood had fallen down. Beneath was a handsome, clean-shaven face, black hair... and crimson eyes.

He'd caught the edge of the borrowed claymore in his teeth.

His fangs.

He freed the sword and stepped back, straightening.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began, "I... am Damon Cal."

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