[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180428/81179b260873ea5d7d2bb904afb80c77.png[/img][/center][hr]Octavio and his two illusions streaked through the ground like rabid dogs, making only the faintest traces of noise as they ran into the heat of battle. His second illusion, the one he had failed to give a complete form to, tailed its two allies, its features warped and its clothing lacking any of the finer details of its brethren. It was similar in appearance, albeit with features that could have been called distorted. It looked as if a foggy reflection were in motion. 

The descent of his group onto their target was similar to the way pack animals ambushed and tore their prey apart. There was no definitive, single blow that signalled a beginning or end to their attack, rather an onslaught of flourished daggers against armor, probing one after the other in a frenzied hunt for bare skin. The second illusion had taken a supporting role, its weapon smudged and crude yet blunt enough to refuse being ignored. It fought harder than the rest, aiming for strikes to the head and legs, displaying no hesitation in hurting itself for the sake of hurting another. It hit the floor frequently, scrabbling and clawing its way up using whatever warm body was available, bruises spreading to every inch of its smudged shape in dark streaks. 

The element of surprise was all a rogue needed to transform from a lowly scavenger into a far bigger menace as Heb would witness with his ally. Six pairs of lifeless eyes stared back at the other guard, three daggers each. A pair of throwing knives littered the ground around them in a smear of red and silver, like the metal bones of an animal they had devoured. A fight this unfair was when he was strongest, although Octavio took no pleasure in killing, so much so that it bled through into his illusions. It only took a stiff movement of the arm to break their hesitation, however, as the strongest of the two withdrew a stiletto knife and plunged it through sinew and flesh. 

Clinging to the awareness of all his illusions amidst the sharp scent of blood and the plumes of dust that rose in the distance, it was hard for him to register what the pause in the remaining guard's movements meant. A change of plans now that he had three more opponents to deal with? Was he going to resume attacking Chres? Was it [i]fear[/i]? Octavio couldn't quite tell through the haze of adrenaline and sensory information. He crouched and retrieved a throwing knife, which had missed its marked yet ended up splattered regardless. 

[color=dde0c7]"Surrounded by enemies, all by yourself,"[/color] he uttered.