[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@VitaVitaAR][@Rune_Alchemist][@PigeonOfAstora]

The former mercenary, by contrast to Cecilia's flighty and careless whimsy that so befit the wind spirits her bow ensconsed, had become a picture of tight-lipped and grim violence, smashing the puppeteered bones free from the unholy strings that held them aloft behind furrowed brow, unspoken snarl, and furnace-like eyes. Gerard instead responded to the shaken-off concerns by closing the gap between himself and the other three whenever the fight may have pulled one astray, surging to fill whatever holes their maneuvering and distance management opened in their small, diamond ranks with bludgeoning, swinging steel. 

Keep formation tight, and she could worry as little as she liked. That was the role of heavily-armed brawling escort like himself to an archer like her to begin with, in all fairness.

Against these foes, he was glad to have taken Dame Serenity's shield off her hands— there were few men-at-arms alive that overlooked its capability as a weapon in its' own right, merging a wall of steel to block the jerkily swung but visibly fresh blades sent their way with a good mass strapped to the off hand to return with full-bodied shoves, charges, and back-handed swipes that crashed into the enemy as though a mighty chariot.

The silhouette stalking up the stairs, doubtless, was another of the Lieutenants at play, meaning to take another of their number off the formation as the rest descended. They were fuller of form, careful in their stride, heavier in their footfalls as the ascending steps thumped with their approach, beneath the many sounds of battle. With nothing else to go off of, the valiantly conscious part of Gerard's mind that hummed beneath his familiar battle-rush spoke of a third refrain, to be sure.

Gritting his teeth, the wolf's amber gaze affixed the figure with an open glare, catching the burst of burning Aurum of Reon's fury as he brought Dawn's Break smashing through the clavicle, then ribcage, then spine. All that spared it of his wrath, speaking frankly, was knowing how thin they had already spread. Unless they held for their fellows behind to crash into the enemy from above, hoping they would make short work of the strong foes they'd already been faced with... he couldn't go for this one's throat. Not yet. Not on his lonesome.

So instead, he howled.

[color=goldenrod]"Another one coming up!"[/color] he called, about-facing to bring both shield and morningstar to bear on the new threat. [color=goldenrod]"If we're going [i]through[/i] him, I've got point!"[/color]

The burliest and meanest of their number, and armed with a Paladin’s steel, him as the battering ram just made [i]sense[/i]. His prior career had shaped him for it.