[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[@VitaVitaAR][@The Otter]

The mountain [i]moved[/i]. Impossibly, on the back foot and down one of his main levers, the Bandit King wrenched his massive blade over to cross his own body, easily knocking Gerard's low cut aside with the flat.

Unreal.

The knight grit his teeth. That was the sensation of striking a stone wall, not the sword of an enemy soldier— No, not even. With one hand, the wrench of his trunk, and the mass of that ridiculous weapon, he hadn't just checked his attack, he had forced it [i]back[/i]— Less a wall, more the winds of a mighty storm. The longsword's false edge bit into the top layers of the earth as it skirted back into Gerard's guard in that instant, small plumes of dust knocked into the air, and despite himself— he marveled even as his fury spiked.

To think this man was their foe... If this much he could manage in so crippled a state, there was no doubt in Gerard's mind that he would have his humble blade snapped clean in half if he went strike for strike with Jeremiah at his height, and his body then torn asunder, just as Sir Rickert's. Even with initiative firmly torn from his grasp, he was still swinging that heap around with the right timing and angle to deflect both— no, all [i]three[/i] of them.

"So [i]you're[/i] the fools who follow that wretched little bitch?!"

This was more than brute strength. This was skill. This was ferocious battlefield instinct. Proof that his fighting ability was the real thing, even so disadvantaged. An angry bear was no trifle. Three hundred... likely not just empty boasting. Not with the speed, not with the strength, not with the danger. His hatred wasn’t steeped in the blood of the innocent for her, or him, or Fionn— it was for all that their Order was, all that it [i]stood for[/i]. [i]That[/i] was the root of this vicious rampage. One man, willing to wage his war at any cost.

And he was going to turn it all [i]on more innocent people.[/i]

The wolf's snarl deepened, as the rushing flood of action filled him again. It washed the awe away, filling him with the purity of the Instant. No more thought. Just purpose.

He had to keep this man from swinging that thing around. Any swipe he took could spell their end. Giving him space was deadly, giving a chance to read tendencies would open the door. Gerard would keep them safe from this. They had him off-balance already— He had to pry open that crack and take him down!

As the Bandit whipped his body and blade back around to block their returned Knight-Captain's thrust, Gerard dipped low to the ground. His grip on the longsword slacked as his left hand came free, sinking into the earth. This was a vulnerable position. Suicidal if he were a duelist. Bent like this, he wouldn't be able to dodge much of anything. If his foe had even a moment, he’d be flattened or cleft in twain. The [i]only[/i] thing keeping him alive was the threat of his comrades tearing away Jeremiah’s attention.

[color=goldenrod]"No wonder you [i]lost—[/i]"[/color]

And, fearlessly, the disdainful growl rising from Gerard's throat called it right back to him. Such considerations made for [i]smart[/i] fighting, yes— but as [i]Verloren[/i], they wouldn't be allowed to be an obstacle to the mission. His, at its very core, was a gambler's trade. Skill and daring in equal measure. Where his skills hadn't been enough...

At the next shift of Jeremiah's torso, that free hand whipped skyward, flinging fingers open.

The words had surely reached the vengeful brute's ears, and through them, his mind. He'd rise to it. Gerard knew. The man's hatred, sick and twisted as it was, ran deep enough to stage all this. Salting the wound would do it.

[color=goldenrod]"You talk too [i][b]MUCH[/b][/i]!"

[i]...Let daring shore the gap.[/i][/color]

And when he did, a thick spray of dust and dirt would fly into his eyes, taking his vision. Either that or he'd have to block— and put something in the way of the eyes regardless. It would buy Gerard a moment. He wouldn't bet on any more than that...

But such was all the opportunity in the world, and he'd [i]seize[/i] it.

His form obscured by the cloud, Gerard's right hand clenched tight around the handle of his longsword. There wasn't any time to shift to a proper grip, nor to return to a right stance. The Instant would pass them by. Jeremiah would bring his heavy blade around and close off the body on this line. The gambit would fail.

So instead, with all his being behind it, Gerard locked his eyes upon the Bandit King's torso and [i]lunged[/i].

With a flash of caught blaze, the wolf's fang streaked through the night.