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

[color=goldenrod]"Bounding!"[/color]

A blur of motion, and the unbalancing weight on his shield arm ripped free. Two foes ahead, one hostage between them. A sea of undead. Gerard had only locked eyes with the lightning mage for a moment, ozone still fresh in the air...

[i][b]"The order is important here."[/b][/i]

... And made his decision.

Steel flashed through the gloom, following the gleaming points of Cecilia's hastily loosed arrows. The throwing knife from earlier sailed end over end in their wake, pitched less with refined accuracy and specificity of target— and so much more a vengeful streak of raw force centered upon her torso. She was long range artillery compressed and refined into wielding the hammer of the storm— she'd cook them if she wasn't kept upon the back foot.

He was no distance fighter. He'd need to charge her to close that gap, probably slowed by smashing through the reanimated. Only three of them being here as it stood... best to leave this to the only archer among them, who didn't need to peel away from the unit.

The former merc brough his now-uniform shield to bear and brandished [i]Dawn's Break[/i], holding the blessed bludgeon tight to his frame. The boiling fury that had propelled him so was rising again within his drumming heart— pulling in the sight of the half-masked, sneering fiend ahead, of the struggles of the bound and gagged captive, the ugly hue of that barrier, the twisting of space bending light unnaturally...

And focusing it upon a single command:

[color=goldenrod][i]Forward.[/i][/color]

Riding the wave of heat that flowed forth, the tip of the spear crashed into the shuffling ranks that lay between them and the innocent life they had come forth to save, his shield and mace swinging, smashing, hammer and anvil. He knew the Captain wouldn't trail. The thought had not even crossed his mind long enough to evolve to a worry— it was instead cast aside, as his baleful glare beneath the shadows of his sallet were affixed upon the glinting nephrite sphere atop the staff.

For Reon, For the Roses, and For the desecrated dead— He'd smash that thing to powder.