[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/16tCqTN/Combat-Header-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] [center][hider=Battle Map][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/287fcbc3-3f00-4a66-b624-b5216bac23e8.png[/img][/hider][/center] [center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][color=darkgray][h1][i][b]Cavendish[/b][/i][/h1][/color][/center][center][color=darkgray][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] L16 -> H22 -> [b]?[/b][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] Hoarse laughter followed the tall woman's plea for their surrender. It was damn near adorable if it wasn't such a pitiful attempt at appealing to some sense of [i]something[/i] that likely wasn't ever in his character int he first place. Such a naive young warrior. No, Cavendish was going to be quite content to insert his very painful looking shortsword into various places of her anatomy until any concept of mercy or goodwill in combat was cut out in the same manner as a novice butcher might hack apart his first lamb - messily and without any particular plan. Maybe it was a joke. Yes that must be it. No one would actually spout that nonsense seriously in the middle of mortal combat in a rainy street. The Constable eyed Kathryn and opened his mouth to speak, a sneer forming on his lips, but he paused. The sound of one of the guards in their makeshift murder-hole above calling out gave him a split second to think. A quick glance around gave him as much of an assessment as he wanted. Then he spoke. [color=darkgray][b]"Nothing changes! SCATTER!"[/b][/color] It was apparent that he was speaking to his Guards at that moment, but the next words were for Kathryn alone, [color=darkgray][b]"I'll have that hammer back soon enough."[/b][/color] It carried the weight of a promise from a dedicated man. Something which bothered him in this moment was that Kathryn would probably believe that his coming course of action had something to do with her speech about surrendering. He sidestepped and broke into a run with remarkable agility, tearing off in a generally northeastern direction toward a side street. A mist, thick as any fog that ever was, formed around him and dissipated in an instant, leaving nothing of itself nor Cavendish remaining.