Dame Maritza's sudden appearance, wielding the hefty axe Fanilly had previously seen in the northman's possession, heralded a sharp turning point. No more could the skeletons reassemble unless Fanilly delivered a solidly destructive blow. For the axe seemed to shatter bone and leave the skeletons as nothing but useless fragments in a single blow. Even when, for example, an upper body managed to continue to move, it was far less dangerous then a fully assembled warrior.

Fanilly nodded.

"I'm counting on you, Dame Maritza!"

With that, taking Tili with her, Fanilly sprinted forward... moving deeper without support was dangerous, but at the same time there was no way to tell how much time that they had.

As for the mercenary...

At this point, with his injured arm and the situation turning against him so strongly, there was little hope. And this was reflected in the outcome of the battle.

His blade failed to catch Sir Gerard's as he attempted to respond to the second attack, steel sliding against steel. The edge of the knight's sword bit through flesh and bone, and in an instant the man's life left him with nothing more then a rasping death rattle

With the skeletons well in hand, the only path forward was deeper.

[hr]

The vampire was not so easily dealt with. He was quick to raise his crossbow and avoid its destruction, springing backwards and landing on his other foot.

"... The serpent woman is gone? A shame, I found her quite lovely," he commmented, cocking his head to one side as he did, "Ah, but you handsome gentlemen haven't escaped my attention in the least."

He glanced towards his leg. Ah, he'd been injured at some point? It was quite a deep cut... and had to heal.

"... Hmm... ah, testing your willpower against mine, I see? Hahaha, bold! How bold!"

The chain slung towards him was swiftly deflected with his shortsword, but the second struck true, wrapping around his left arm and pulling tight.

But the vampire hardly seemed bothered by this.

Licking his lips, he [i]yanked[/i] firmly with his arm, displaying strength that a human being would be unable to naturally attain, in a bid to drag Sir Jarde into arm's reach, his fangs flashing in the light of the torches.

His goal was rather obvious. His injured leg was healing, now, as well, the vampire [i]willing[/i] the injury shut even as Sir Nicomede attempted to slow it, even as he tried to pull Sir Jarde into reach of his fangs.

It was plainly clear these efforts had failed to work. But perhaps a more concerted and united assault...

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