[colour=D4E637][h3]Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc[/h3][hr] [b]Defense Of Relouse III[/b][/colour] [sub]In the Witch Wood Seen & Mentioned: Otios'yyia'thala, Talit'yrash'osmax, Kol Death's Hand, and Horik the Gold[/sub] Even as she neared the treeline of the Witch Wood Lyen could hear the battle and destruction raging to the south: The city proper was being attacked. There was little point in fretting over her chosen path; all that was left was to see it through. The heartbeat of the marked Yasoi she sought had long since stopped, but she could still use the remainder of her spell to find his body. She could ensure he would be the last at least. Her horse reared unexpectedly, knocking Lyen from her mount. She cursed in her native tongue as she righted her self to view the source of the beast's fear: Eskandr were emerging from the forest. It was easy enough to differentiate the southerners with their ranger gear in comparison to the cumbersome armor donned by the Perrench. The horse squealed and screamed as Lyen began to draw. [colour=D4E637]"Exiran keep you"[/colour] was all she said in way of prayer and apology as it crumpled to the ground in silence, just as the enemy forces came upon her, a dozen screaming savages seeking her blood. The remaining Yasoi had taken their toll on them she noted; there were too few bleeding from too many places. Axes raised around her and a single arrow was loosed before Lyen unleashed her magic. A torrent a blood fell upon her enemies. Warm and sticky in comparison to rain soaking everything else in their surroundings, the Eskandr quieted for a moment in confusion before the caustic properties reached the surface of their skin and the screaming began again; the agonizing cries of burning men. Lyen left them as she continued her journey on foot. She found the body with little effort, a pale figure sinking into the mud. He'd been trying to escape the forest she surmised. Rain had washed most of the blood, but at least four stab wounds were clearly visible in chest. A shock of gold, darting between the trees impossibly fast. Lyen's heart leapt to her throat. No ordinary soldier. She raised her hands to her mouth and let out a low whistle, trilling upwards on the last note: a common signal among Yasoi hunters. If there were allies nearby the would come. She just needed to survive. Her hands still covered her mouth as a wave of force energy brushed against her face. Lyen ducked just in time for a long dagger to embed itself into the tree behind her, inches from where her head had been. Survive. She reminded herself, and focused on slowing her opponent. Jagged stones appeared under his feet, forcing the mage to slow and adjust his trajectory. "You, pointy-ear, why are you fight for Parrence?" He spoke Parrench poorly, barely understandable to Lyen's untrained ear. She could feel the energy of her surrounding being drawn from. He was trying to distract her. She tapped into her essence magic again misting the flooding creeks and streams of the forest in effort to reduce visibility. [colour=D4E637]"Why are you in Parrence at all?"[/colour] She replied in less broken, but equally accented Perrech. [colour=D4E637]"Run out of goats to fuck?"[/colour] Her retort was punctuated by a bolt of lightening, instantly followed by the roar of thunder that shook the ground. Visions of the man cooked inside his own armor, and the remains of Cap Redame's forces flooded Lyen's mind, and she feared the thunder-mage that had wrought such devistation had already arrived in the Witch Wood. Her fears were unfounded of course. The lightning was targeting the Æresvaktr and only a Yasoi could create such a spell and remain hidden in the trees. What served as her relief only enraged the southerner further. A blast of force energy emanated from him, enough to knock the wind from Lyen's lungs though she managed keep herself upright, bracing herself with the undergrowth. "Hah! Goat jokes. If I didn't know any gooder, I think you were Parrench and not Yasoi!" Lyen didn't respond further. His distractions were working despite her efforts; he a trained warrior practiced in drawing and casting for combat while she was only able to react. Lyen climbed her tree, binding footholds to speed her assent even as her pursuer followed. Enough. Half the tree dissolved even as the blond Eskandr began to climb, instead a dozen impossibly thin branches jutted outwards, impaling the figure. Or they did in Lyen's vision, for a moment, before he shimmered and moved again, revealing himself to have been barely grazed by the attack. An illusion. Lyen cursed herself for not realizing it sooner. A wasted attack, a wasted opportunity. By the time she corrected her own internal essence, the Eskandr was fleeing. Strong as he was, he knew he was overwhelmed. Panic and desperation not to waste another opportunity lead Lyen to leap from her perch, karambit in hand. Another miscalculation and misstep. No sooner did she land in the softening earth than she was caught between two Eskandr. The blonde she'd been in combat and a hulking beast of too large for a human in full plate. They both moved to attack her in unison. There was little hope, but she choose left - avoiding the brunt of the new-comers attack. Instead an axe finds her chest, splitting skin and flesh before cracking through bone. Without the time to scream, Lyen took a final gasp of air before falling and drawing herself underneath the foliage, water, and mud making up the terrain. The fighting continued above without her. It took all of her effort to keep from crying out. Blood was splashing around her, her heart was beating to fast, and there was no air for to breathe. She willed the panic away and grasped the weapon in her chest, preparing to remove it when it disintegrated in her hands. Barely a second later, a warm burning replaced the searing pain. She was being binded by another. More help had arrived. She surfaced again, drawing herself for anything to help accelerate the binding, keeping her wound from being fatal. Instead she found the armored human, prone on the forest floor. Still blinking mud from her eyes and coughing for air, Lyen raised her karambit again. "Enough!" A sudden surge of energy comes off the man as he stands, repelling Lyen to her feet beside him before her weapon had chance to find purchase. He moved away from her to aid his comrade, but when Lyen tried to follow, her legs gave out under her. She had lost too much blood, and her recovery was far from done. Her weapon fell from her hand as she fought unconsciousness to watch the Yasoi and Eskandr fight through the hail and rain. Her savior was not other than the Baroness of Loriindton, outpacing and outclassing them all with one leg. There wasn't even time for Lyen to find the humor in it before an explosion turned her world white. [hider=summary] - Lyen finds the dead Yasoi just in time for Horik to get the jump on her - She signals for other Yasoi in the area for help while they have a bout - Otios arrives and they begin to corner the Æresvaktr - Kol shows up, completely turning the tides and Lyen nearly dies - Lady Talit to the rescue - Horik dies at the hand of Otios, Kol manages to escape, Lyen passes out. The Yasoi will need to heal before planning their next action[/hider]