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The heathen's words glanced off Auberon's armor as surely as his pitiful strikes would, preoccupied as the blond was with the rest of the battle raging around him. At this rate, they'd be overrun in no time. Another wyvern had swooped in, and there was no guarantee there weren't more on their way. Worse, any thoughts of a tactical withdrawal - Auberon Casimir Galatea did not [i]retreat[/i], after all - were stopped dead in their tracks by a hauntingly familiar voice requesting backup for the rear unit. Was that Kellen? They'd been utterly outmaneuvered on all fronts. If they tried to regroup now, they'd likely just end up surrounded.

[color=ffd700]"Kel-"[/color] Auberon started to ask, only to be cut off by the whoosh of an axe sundering the air before him. He had no idea how his Housemate had gotten here so fast, but he had no time to dwell on that as the bandit wound up another powerful swing. Jorah's warning went unacknowledged but not unheeded, with Auberon circling away from the eyepatched man's onslaught far away from the Luin lookalike. Such grander musings could be left for later; Auberon wasn't in command here and he needn't concern himself with the entire battle, only cut down the foe before him as he was expected to. 

Distractions abated, he waited for the man to overswing in the midst of his reckless attacks and cut an angle with a wide sidestep in stark contrast from the wary backpedalling he'd done previously. With the man's left flank now exposed, Auberon thrust the pointed tip of his weapon toward the man's side. The pike found purchase in the man's tattered armor, briefly convincing the boy he'd scored a fatal hit. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd greatly underestimated his opponent's speed and tenacity. The bandit's axe surged back to slam into Auberon's own, nearly knocking it right from his grip. He spun with his weapon in an attempt to keep it within his grasp, ending with it firmly lodged in the dirt beside him. With no time to rip it free in the face of a second swing coming for him, he regretfully abandoned his axe and ducked to recklessly grasp for the bandit's haft to try and wrestle the weapon away from him. 

Expectedly, it ended poorly. His wrist jammed at an awkward angle as the wood slammed into his palm, leading to his elbow buckling as the force transfered and the axe blade continued on a partially-diverted path right into Auberon's pauldron. Thankfully, the armor held, though his shoulder felt as though it had been cleaved through all the same. He could only hope the swing had been the last death throes of a man skewered, and another swipe wasn't poised to send him to the Goddess as he crumpled under the injury. Whatever had occurred, the whistle of arrow through air gave Auberon's assailant pause and the blond didn't squander his chance. Staggering back, he tugged his axe free from its earthy constraints with his uninjured arm and circled back toward the arrow's path, assuming that to be Jorah's position.

[color=ffd700]"Apologies,"[/color] He hissed through gritted teeth back toward his incidental savior, [color=ffd700]"I grew careless."[/color]

The visor over his face, though he dared not take it off with one wound to nurse already, was beginning to become more hinderance than help. With so many enemies to contend with and his peripheral vision compromised as it was, Jorah's earlier chatter felt almost welcome in retrospect. His breaths echoed inside the steel case, heavy and forceful in the face of the pain radiating from his shoulder but still measured. The last thing he needed to do was run out of breath so early into the confrontation. Though he felt less a stone wall and more a crumpling wooden palisade, his resolution to stand between his allies and the men before him remained unwavering. He'd just have to stall until Jorah picked them off, as shameful as it felt to simply deflect and evade rather than part these heretics' heads from their necks.

At least, that was the plan until Auberon heard the Deer's fearless leader squawking at the other soldiers from a position decidedly not where he'd thought the man was. A quick tilt of his head in that direction revealed Jorah had moved from supporting Auberon to Derec and Isolde, and Euphemia was still with the other professors, which meant-

Saints above, his safety was in the hands of [i]Kellen[/i] of all people. 

The Goddess protects, of course, but She certainly did it in inscrutable ways. Though if he was being told to have faith in his friend, Auberon supposed he had no choice but to oblige. That, or hold the line until someone else untangled themselves from the conflict and aided him.

[color=ffd700]"I'll keep him off you,"[/color] The blond avowed as he replaced his wounded arm on his weapon, [color=ffd700]"Shut this bastard up for me, will you?"[/color] The limb throbbed but wasn't entirely compromised yet - the flesh might be weak but his spirit was still willing, he'd manage. Hopefully.

His arm protested when he went to hold his weapon as he normally would, so Auberon instead inched forward with his axe held out like a spear, peppering the eyepatched bandit with hounding jabs, generating force mostly with his rear arm and delegating the injured one to aiming. He stayed light on his feet, retreating after every few strikes to draw the man in a new direction like a wolf nipping at its prey. And because he was just as likely to eat an arrow from Kellen as the bandit was, and he wasn't too keen on staying nearby.

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