[center][h2][i][color=6ecff6]Ethelred[/color][/i][/h2][/center]

Ethelred assessed the foe as they came into view and he brought his horse down to a trot.  It was a band of brigands, perhaps fifty in number.  Their goal was probably to break down the gate and sack the town, and their current objective appeared to be to break down the gate.

[color=6ecff6][i]I can't be sure how good their odds of success would ordinarily be against such fortifications, but in these very un-ordinary circumstances, I can be sure that they have no chance of success.[/i][/color]  While Ethelred had aided people against bandits before, he had never actually taken part in a siege, and knew very little of the field of siege engineering.

The prevalence of banditry was a sad reality of the current state of Albion.  This was this dark age, without law and without order.  Men lived in fear of one another, and for strong preyed upon the weak.  Even before being frozen, Ethelred had sought to undo these injustices, to fight against those who would selfishly darken Albion even further, but there was only so much that a single knight-errant could hope to accomplish on his own.  But with the Queen and her fellow knights, they could do more than just fight bandits.  They could lay the groundwork of a society where people can live without fear of being preyed upon by bandits, and make Albion a place where banditry is a much less attractive career choice than it currently seems to be.

For now, however, working towards that lofty goal meant repelling this horde of brigands.  The knights needed to convey the message that Airedale is off-limits to bandits, that depredations upon the good people of the town would not be allowed to happen.

Ethelred was not the first one to have engaged the bandits.  Someone was fighting them up close, and what looked like Fio's sword magic was being cast upon them from the walls.  He couldn't see who it was that had drawn first blood, but it'd make a good distraction for his own attack.  The knight rode closer, his mount increasing its speed to a canter, then a gallop.  As he drew closer, he couched his lance under his arm and aimed for the first unlucky bandit in his way.

Ethelred made no war cry as he closed the distance, for he needed no war cry.  His appearance- an icy knight upon a frightening steed- and the effects of his powers would speak more loudly than any words he could shout.  Prior to being cursed, his family's motto was his war cry, but with his family line wiped out, he no longer had a desire to speak it.

The mounted knight plowed into the bandits' ranks.  Anyone unfortunate enough to be in the path of his crystalline lance would likely be knocked off their feet, bearing a grisly, flash-frozen wound where its struck them.  His horse was fighting equally aggressive, using its horns to ram any bandit unfortunate enough to be in its direct path, and trampling beneath its icy hooves any who were not thrown clear by the blows of the horse or its rider.  It was fortunate that despite the horse's newfound aggression and surprising mastery of its new state (in fact, it seemed to have been a quicker learner than Ethelred when it came to getting used to their new forms), its obedience to its rider had never wavered, because Ethelred would not want to find himself on the receiving end of its horns or hooves.