[center][color=#008b8b][h2]Fionn MacKerracher[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@VitaVitaAR] [@HereComesTheSnow]
[hr]
There was no surprise at seeing the onslaught denied. By this point, Jeremiah would have to have lived through dozens of battles—no matter what the odds, no matter what wounds he took, and based on his scars he'd certainly had his fair share. Showboating aside the man knew how to fight, how to [i]survive.[/i] This was nothing new to him.

No doubt, if he still had the use of his off hand, the three of them would be on the defensive, not Jeremiah himself. As comically oversized as the sword was, the 'Bandit King' clearly knew how to wield it with some modicum of effectiveness, both offensive and defensive. He wasn't a fool relying on a large weapon and fear to compensate for a lack of skill, and he wasn't going bare chested out of base overconfidence. If he hadn't managed to cut himself off from the bulk of his own forces, then even the mistake he'd made with the captain might not be enough to bring him down.

But mistakes and errors had a habit of piling on top of each other at the [i]worst[/i] times.

Jeremiah ducked away from Gerard's thrown dagger, the series of furious thrusts that Fionn had started his assault with ringing out with a cacophony of scratches and clangs as the brute's blade was interposed. The last was sent wide as the bandit shifted entirely, moving to deflect Gerard's cut; Fionn whirled the bardiche around in a fast arc, choking up on the haft and switching his grip at the last moment. Jeremiah moved to parry both the whirling blade and the thrust from Fanilly, but his defense only found the second, Fionn's shifting grip having momentarily broken measure and voided the man's deflection entirely as Gerard roared his defiance.

A spray of dust rose up from the right, followed by a glint of steel in the firelight. Fionn's point came back on target, Jeremiah's blade still off to the right, his inside line wide open, and Fanilly recovering from her parried thrust. A single free moment, one in which they could sever the head of the snake in one swift blow. A multitude of options, but only one unorthodox enough that it might slip past the man's own tactical acumen.

[i][color=#008b8b]Shouldn't have let us get so close, Jeremiah. [b]Go hIfreann leat![/b][/color][/i]

Fionn stepped in close, swinging the blade of his bardiche not at Jeremiah's momentarily exposed torso, but at the arm wielding his massive sword, and stepping through in the same movement he raised his foot for a swift kick between the slaughterer's legs. It left him unbalanced, but any level of damage to either target would suffice for his goals—and more importantly, it meant that his entire person was between Jeremiah's blade, trying to parry their blows, and Gerard's own two-part attack.

More for the bandit king to try and force out of the way, or to retreat from. Delay his defenses, preserve any opening, back him into a corner if necessary.

[i][color=#008b8b]Time's up, amadán.[/color][/i]