[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/9SpAqdN.png[/img] [b][h3]L A P L A G E[/h3][/b] [b] Interacting with Hildr [@jasbraq][/b] [/center] [hr] There came a time when no other opponents met Osanna's blade. The Eskandr fleet still sat before the beach, a conglomeration of ships as endless and uncountable as a flock of migrating birds. They dotted the water so thickly that Osanna could not see the darkening horizon through them, a wall of planking, masts, and sails. For all their number, no more Eskandr stepped foot on the rain-drenched beach. Around her, the defenders of Parrence screamed their victory, lobbing bursts of flame and lightning at the enemy ships, though most fell short to fizzle in the waves. Somewhere to the north, the roar of a knight rallying troops came dimly to her ears, the words lost beneath the wet slap of rain against armor. Osanna raised a sand-sticky hand to wipe at the water in her eyes; her clothes and hardened leather armor were all dark, in places with water and others with blood. Her boots were sand-caked, and she'd taken a blow to the shoulder that ached dully above the usual discomfort of exertion after a fight. Osanna's blood still sang with the heart-pounding exhilaration of pitting her skill against others in a competition to the death, but unease now crowded in among the edges. Too many of the beach's defenders were surging away to the north. Surely the warriors of Eskand were not yet finished with them here? Behind her, everything was a chaos of bodies. Foot soldiers fought their way up the dunes in sprays of sand and rainwater, the light of the setting sun glinting off weapons and armor. Osanna could not see the lady knight nor any of the others that had charged in with her—they could just as easily be halfway to the Witchwood or one of the dark, indistinguishable bodies sprawled in the sand. She hoped for their sake that Aun-Echeran had stayed her hand and that she would see them again on the other side of this conflict. There seemed to be no one left in charge on the sands, and overwhelmed by the tumult, Osanna fought for higher ground. The insanity only deepened. A knight or noble Osanna did not know came thundering in on horseback, leading a group of mounted warriors. He shouted for those still on the beach to hold firm, to prepare themselves even as another wave of Eskandr forces landed on the beach amid salt spray and a barrage of ill-timed arrows. They swarmed up the incline like ants or locusts, mixing into the Parrench soldiers until the groups looked the same but for the differences in their dress and armor. Osanna flung herself back into the fray, squinting against flying sand and rainwater. Nightmare visages sprouted in oozing, vaporous black, turning the friendly forms around her into the shapes of strange, hellish creatures from the depth of some curse she did not understand. By comparison, the enemy only looked stronger, frightening and impossible in their extraordinary size. Unlike before, when Osanna first charged the beach surrounded by good fighters and facing normal men, her heart thudded in her chest with fear. She knew, on some level, that these strange sights were likely the work of an enemy mage, but she could not help but shudder when an Eskandr berserker with shoulders nearly as broad as she was tall barreled toward her. Osanna killed him all the same, staying low and taking each opening afforded her, though allies died in droves on every side. Even she, servant of the death god she might be, flinched at the wonton loss of life. Nowhere did they fall in such great numbers than around a woman adorned as a Drudgunzean soldier. Her pale face was blood-spattered, and her hair whipped about in its braid. The tides of war pushed Osanna towards her, and she grit her teeth in anticipation of the meeting. [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/f67wb4k.png[/img][/center] [center][h1][color=870C0B]H[/color]ildr [color=870C0B]t[/color]he [color=870C0B]R[/color]ed[/h1][/center] [hr] Hildr remembered the words of Wulfric every time she swung. 'Do not attract too much attention.' 'I know this.' She thought to herself. 'But how can I not enjoy putting my strength to the test against these men….' Her face would contort into something looking much like boredom as she now was just going through the motions. That dirty knight was somewhere here; she just needed to find him. It became harder not to taunt the knights as they felt one after another; most she only left wounded as there was no reason to kill people that posed no threat to her. Instead of using her signature second sword, she now just used her bare fist to incapacitate any that her blade did not clash with. "Was Parrence really this pathetic? I thought Hrothgar would only go for big game!" The Kressian yelled out while trying her best to go as low with her voice to sound somewhat manly. Seeing a Quentic Drudgunzean knight wielding a zweihander made her show some form of excitement, rushing his way. "Oi! You!" The knight turned to meet this regular-looking knight preparing to swing. "Why would a scrawny weakling like you wield such a big sword." As the zweihander swung the disguised woman's way, a grin formed on her face as she did not even attempt to block it nor avoid it. To the shock of the knight, this shorter knight punched the blunt side of the blade into the ground. "Not a great looker either; perhaps a closed helmet might've been better for you." "Filthy Heathen, you will pay for that!" The knight, now angered from being shamed like that, had enough of playing with the other and began to swing blindly around the general area of the other knight. In attempts to block the swings the arming sword snapped, annoying Hildr enough to get tense. Dodging a couple of swings before finding an opening before ripping the blade of his hands… or rather using enough energy to rip the hand off his arm. Swinging the sword while still holding onto the blade caused the guard to cave in the knight's temple. In his place, someone far smaller stood, a woman in simple half-plate and hardened leather. Her only weapons were a thin side sword and a long dagger, but she grinned with a sort of feral joy that Hildr knew. "I think it's about time someone put a stop to you. Aun-Echeran did not sanction your blade, though all the souls it reaps will be hers in the end." Her smile widened, and she lowered into a fighting stance, still amid the chaos. "This one speaks! What a surprise to see a Quentic with enough pride to taunt others." The Drudgunzean laughed as she tried to get used to her newly acquired blade. "This one is a bit heavier than I'm used to, so you'll have to excuse my poor swordsmanship." Getting into a fighting stance, the knight's grin filled with excitement. "Don't think I will be easy to stop, little one." The woman laughed again and switched her sword from her right hand to her left, completing the operation with surprising deftness despite the awkwardness of also holding a long knife. "Perhaps we should even the odds then? I wouldn't want to win too quickly." She still did not attack, evidently content to watch Hildr, amusement lifting her delicate, Parrench features. "Even the odds? That doesn't sound likely for a Quentic dog to do. What slimy plan do you have in that head of yours?" The knight gritted her teeth in frustration. Did the other take her lightly? To be looked down upon. She's felled way bigger game than her. Who did she think she was? "Come at me then and see if you can win." "Why? Are you too much of a coward to come at me? I thought the Drudgunzean were brave fighters, but maybe I'm wrong. I've certainly never had any trouble killing them before." "Because you challenged me! That is why!" In a small fit of anger, she swung the zweihander into the ground, shaking the ground from the immense amount of energy. The woman snorted, apparently only more amused by this display. "Perhaps. Perhaps I'm just trying to stall you. You're a lot less harmful here chatting with me than killing my friends." Still, the image of Hildr with her sword down and her guard exposed seemed to be too much of a draw for the small swordswoman. She stepped forward and, with a tiny, almost lazy flick of her wrist, cut loose the red cape clasped over Hildr's breastplate. Heavy with mud and rain, it slithered from her shoulders in a wet crumple. "Fine by me. Fighting's been nothing but a bore anyway. Chatting like this has been a lot more entertaining than fighting these folk." A sigh left Hildr's mouth as the cape slowly fell off her. "I couldn't even be bothered to kill them, even though they will be asleep for a while." "Well, if you can't be bothered to lift your sword, then killing you will be rather sadly easy. I must confess I was hoping for a bit more fun." This time, when the black-clad swordswoman moved, she drew blood, scoring a sharp line up Hildr's cheek before stepping back. What movements she made were small and controlled—finesse rather than force. She hardly stirred enough wind to ruffle her dark hair. "I'm afraid I do not have the luxury of avoiding this encounter. You see, I fight for the Pentad and their people. You will die, or I will. Do you know the Pentad? Or Echeran, keeper of the dead?" "A cheap shot. Why not go for my neck? You could've just killed me right then and there." The woman looked rather annoyed when religion was brought up. "I really do not care for your faith, Quentic. I live by my will, and no god will influence that." Picking up the blade and getting into a fighting stance. "Truthfully, it doesn't matter. You will meet him all the same. Fear not. In death, glory." The woman smiled again, her eyes on Hildr's sword. "Can you call anything a cheap shot if you do not defend yourself? Perhaps you hear Echeran's call even if you won't admit it. You should know the name of the one who will kill you." She bowed. "Osanna Lenoir." "Hildr, my family's name is not of importance. Just know that cutting me has become an easy way for you to meet that Echareen or whatever you call them." "Says the woman who will not meet my blade. Are all Drudgenzeans such wretched liars? Or are you an honorless dog even among a people who do not know who to fight for?" That was enough for the knight to give a physical response by swinging the blade loosely at the other's direction, no longer concerned about hitting friend or foe. "That was your final warning." Instead of answering, Osanna sidestepped the lazy swing and left another shallow cut on the outside of Hildr's thigh. "I'm not playing, Drudgunzean. Fight me or take the coward's path!" Feeling the cut on her thigh, she threw a swift jab at the other's shoulder, not content with the swing speed of the zweihander. "Filthy sly bastard!" Osanna leaped back, knocking the tip of Hildr's sword away, and disappeared. Around them, the rain was still falling in sheets, the clash and tumult of bodies churning the sand. Somewhere far off, a rumble started that grew and grew until the ground shook beneath them. Osanna flickered back into existence on Hildr's other side, her sword darting at Hildr's unarmored bicep. "Why, thank you," she quipped. "That's most accurate, though I can't say for certain if my parents were married or not." The woman yelled with a force strong enough to resonate throughout the battlefield. Along with said yell came a blast of pure kinetic energy blowing away everything in its way. "You're pissing me off!" When Hildr looked around again, Osanna was gone, though the ringing of her laughter still flickered around her ears. "Hide behind your magic then, coward. Echeran will still take you in the end." [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/9SpAqdN.png[/img] [/center] [hr] Osanna pulled herself up from the sand, cloaked in bent light so that no others could see her in the dark and storm of the battle. Yards away, Hildr still stood, force pouring off her like lava out of a volcano, irritable and uncontrolled. Not for the first time in her life, Osanna cursed the trick of fate that left some people with more magic than their bodies could possibly contain and others with little or none. She found they rarely seemed to deserve it. Hildr was unfocused, believed in nothing, and had not Osanna's skill with the blade, and yet, so long as magic surged through the Drudgunzean's veins, Osanna would never be able to openly best her. Such was the will of the Pentad. Osanna gritted her teeth and turned away, darting between writhing forms of fighters even as her skin began to warm, and the first vestiges of fever began to make her limbs shake. She had used her body's limit of power already. She would have to rely solely on her wits and skill the rest of the battle. She just hoped that the distraction had been enough, that she'd saved a few lives by keeping Hildr occupied. With any luck, some spell caster on their side would notice the force blast and head over to stop her. Osanna had done all she could. It was enough to make her wonder what she was doing in this mess. Osanna knew how to fight, but in the open, against warriors like Hildr and Hrothgar and his elite, she could do little. Perhaps she should have approached this like an assassin from the beginning, staying hidden and taking out enemies with a mixture of poison and sharp blades. It was too late now. Osanna's pride had led her to throw herself into battle directly, and now she was wrung dry. Was this what the Archbishop had wanted? She could not tell. At least, so far, Echeran had spared her to fight another day.