[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@ERode][@Crimson Paladin][@Conscripts][@VitaVitaAR]

A breath pulled in, as the shot whizzed past the assembled vanguard's heads from the rear. Spinning end over end, and cloaked in an unknowable sheathe of luminous, arcane wind, the stuff of sylphs and storm, the arrowhead was a streak of white as it tore its path into the purple glow of the chamber, tailed by Gerard's gaze. The tomb of the traitor and his kin was far beyond tarnished by this cabal of necromancers— the amount of shambling, rattling corpses given new, unnatural life by the sickly lavender pouring from their eye sockets had to be tantamount to [i]desecration[/i]. He was no holy man, granted, but...

The dangerous points of [i]Dawn's Break[/i], a hallowed morningstar once wielded by such a devout figure as the Paladin Armand, seemed to hunger as they caught the point of white upon the gilded head. His grip around its haft tightened as the projectile made final descent, his weight shifting forward in turn for the charge. In his left hand, one of the rondel daggers retrieved prior from the Crown's armory. A point, a line, a rod of steel that could turn a strike away, catch a blow upon its sturdy diamond-shaped edges, a wedge to pry a guard open. He wasn't an expert by any true measure, but expertise wasn't needed. Ideas would do, so long as they served the purpose of breaking down the dead that walked.

On his back, the longsword that had served him, always. Should he need to leverage skill where ferocity and momentum faltered, it would be there.

Perhaps against whatever lieutenants waited beneath. For now, all Dame Serenity's plan needed from him was thunder, to chase the lightning. To her, and to [i]Dawn's Break[/i], he was more than ready to oblige.

The meteor hit the tile flooring, and outward exploded the howling wrath of the storm, a blossoming wind that scattered their reanimated foes' number throughout the chamber, leaving as many standing as it knocked aside, but all off their balance.

He breathed out, and felt the rush pass through him as his gold eyes shone beneath the visorless sallet, familiar and comforting as anything could in battle.

Then his boots shoved off the stone, and he surged forth in lockstep with Sir Steffen, hammer to the massive anvil at his side. Few presences would be as welcome as the Ingvarr's, a titan of strength and craft in even measure. There were few better suited to smash into unsuspecting enemy lines with—

He swung the morningstar with grit teeth, bearing shoulder, torso, and hips behind the unfamiliar weight as it bit deep into the skull of the nearest. It caught for a moment in pallid skin, spikes crushing cranial plate...

And then, rushing forth as the bone beneath crumpled into a spray of fragments, there bloomed a wave of sacred, shining flame that engulfed the corpse as it crumpled back to the crypt's floor, animus once again severed. Even after all these years out of service, the blessings placed upon the weapon were as strong as ever... [color=goldenrod][i]Good.[/i][/color]

They'd be needed for much more than this fodder.

Another approaching, carrying some blade the body had been buried with. It swung limply, as one would experct of its shambling gait. However, if there was any indication given by the breaking dawn in his hand...

With a clash of sparks, the edge of the swinging blade was caught upon the dagger, and shoved aside, opening the centerline of both combatants.

Though given new life by magic, no amount of puppetry would match a body that still lived in speed. Gerard brought the head of his borrowed bludgeon back around in a backhanded swing, a dull percussion line sounding as its weight pulverized the undead's ribcage. Even ignoring the damage, the raw torque was enough to knock it clear from the path of their charge, easy pickings for those that followed. No longer a concern.

And their crashing, crushing charge wouldn't stop here. An old hand at this, Gerard knew well that the whole idea was defeated by arresting momentum.

There were a few more ahead. Between him and his peers, their sickly lease on life wasn't long for the world.