[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/DtzPDwW/Marduk-Banner.png[/img][h3]The Swordwind Cometh[/h3][/center][hr]
Marduk was surprised that such a cursed man was a knight of all things, and had also been fighting the Fomorians. It was a good thing that this knight was not leading the Fomorians as he had initially surmised, but has been instead sent here to stave them off. To Marduk, it meant there were weirdos just like him in this world, weirdos who have also answered the call to battle. He smiled just a bit as this 'Ethelred' rode away.

This smile would quickly shift into concern and worry as Marduk would notice the sun setting far too soon, before getting slammed into the ground by a sudden goblinoid from the sky. His sword would disappear at an instant as he was struck by the thing, his shimmering cloak covered with the dirt, grime, and cursed blood that stained the ground beneath him. Of course, such a slight had made Marduk reasonably pissed. It was a good thing that he didn't see the source of who threw this goblin, else these knights would all find themselves another dangerous adversary.

There was no time to dawdle, however. A dread aura had entered Marduk's sights, one that was far greater than any threat he had faced thus far. Sitting up, he'd look straight at the armored monstrosity. The mere appearance of such a beast had caused the blood in Marduk's veins to fire up, offended by this beast's mere existence. Standing himself up and preparing to pounce at the one-eyed giant, Marduk's bubbling rage had made itself apparent as he roared a primal roar towards the monster.

Before he was fully blinded by his rage, however, Marduk would see another stranger enter the fray. It was a man in armor, with strength that could rival his own, leaping into the throes of the Cyclops and drawing its attention. Marduk's anger faded only slightly, just enough for him to see the reason in this knight's action. He would not let such an ample opportunity go to waste.

First off, Marduk would snap the neck of the goblin that had crashed into him, turning its head a complete 180 degrees. He would then quickly unbuckle his cloak, quickly throwing the hood onto the Fomorian as he would drag the rest of its body by its arm. He would then make his way towards the cyclops, running towards this enemy with his staff in one hand and the mangled corpse of a Fomorian in the other.

The Elven weapon-masters had taught Marduk many things revolving the arts of warfare. One such lesson was the usage of uniforms, identifying marks that would allow one to tell friend from foe in the heat of battle. It was these familiar things that ensured soldiers would not turn on their allies when emboldened by the fury of combat, and for these soldiers to work more properly as an organized unit. Of course, if told to wear a uniform by his a superior, Marduk would tell them to suck his unit instead. He disliked the usage of uniforms as it also meant that the enemy would more easily identify him, and that the element of surprise would be robbed from the engagement.

It was through this logic that Marduk's gambit had come to fruition. The Elves, who saw the Fomorians as cursed hounds who are better off being put down than to let their illness fester, hated the Fomorians with a passion more personal than any of the other denizens of Albion could possibly carry. As such, the few skirmishes they would carry among their cursed kin would be particularly bloody. The Fomorians, in contrast, hated the Elves in return, directed by the hatred of their cursed towards the uncorrupted. Their primitive intelligence had lead them towards all life, indiscriminately slaughtering them to meet the the desires of their Unseelie masters.

This Cyclops seemed to have some form of advanced thought compared to its lesser kin. After all, it was wearing armor, cowardly as it may be. Still, even if it carried the faintest fragments of intelligence that separated it from the rest, it was still a raving mad beast in the end, lead by simple instinct. It also helped that the foe was occupied, its vision potentially obscured by the knight who had chosen to enter combat with the beast. Surely, if it were to see a figure garbed in a Cloak of Elvenkind, it wouldn't think twice but to smash it.

"[color=BF4545][b]Eye over here, ugly![/b][/color]" Marduk yelled towards the Cyclops, directing his voice to the direction opposite of the giant foe's club before throwing the cloaked Fomorian towards that same direction. Once that was completed, Marduk quickly grabbed his staff with his opposite hand, placing one of its flat ends to the ground in front of him and utilizing the momentum of his charge to vault upwards. Much like the knight before him, Marduk soared into the sky, his Elven agility being made apparent as he had left little indentation on the ground in contrast. Somersaulting into the air and towards the Cyclops, Marduk's spectral greatsword would shimmer into existence once more as he began his descent towards his foe.

Marduk had hoped his own distraction would work, especially when compounded with the other knight's. Ideally, the Cyclops would slam its spiked club into his makeshift decoy, leaving its unprotected arms open long enough for Marduk to cut one of them clean off. Even if that wasn't the case, so long as he was able to lay a clean strike on the unarmored portions of the beast, his blessed blade would burn away at the cursed rot that permeated the thing.