[center][color=#008b8b][h2]Fionn MacKerracher[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@VitaVitaAR][@Raineh Daze]
[hr]

Unsurprising that the Boars' leader was content to hide behind his men. Let them rush on, force Fionn to tire himself fighting through them. A coward's strategy, and not even a sound one at that, even if he [i]did[/i] intend to fight through all on his own. Not that he entirely [i]did[/i] plan on that, of course. [color=#008b8b]"Tyaethe!"[/color] Fionn barked, turning his head slightly toward the vampire not far behind him before they got swarmed again. [color=#008b8b]"Help cut me a path!"[/color]

No time to contemplate whether or not she'd hear him and do as he asked, or if she'd see something else that needed taken care of; by that point more of the Boars were upon him. The first jabbed a spear his way; he beat it down to the ground, stepping on the haft to keep it down before the Boar could withdraw the weapon. He brought his blade back up, slicing down at the spearman's lead arm; their hand cleanly separated from their wrist, and they fell back clutching at the bloody stump. He kicked the spear up, catching it and plunging its butt spike into the gut of the next one to run at him.

A third came in from the side, swinging a hammer down at him; he pulled back hard on the spear, lifting it and ducking beneath to catch the blow. The haft split under the blow, and he twisted the front half of the spear around and stabbed it into the Boar's armpit as he raised his hammer for another blow, driving it in hard enough to send the mercenary falling off to the side, useful at least to trip up any of his comrades that might come up. He turned back again, facing the better part of the mercenaries standing between him and their commander.

[color=#008b8b]"Care to make way?"[/color] he asked them, his tone light and conversational. In the face of their inability to get through a single knight, he could see some of the mercenaries starting to doubt their choice of battle, especially when considering the struggles they had with the other knights. The hounds, their one real surprise and advantage, had rushed the others, trying to find their way to Veilena's throat; where he stood, it was just Golden Boars filling the space between him and their leader. [color=#008b8b]"Might be you lay your arms down, the others give you a chance, an opportunity to repent, at least a trial. I just want your commander."[/color]

They stood silent, for a moment, before one broke ranks and came at Fionn, axe in hand. He stepped in, thrusting forwards, and the point of his blade pierced through their shoddy gambeson, sliding between their ribs. Undeterred, however, they rushed into him, trying to tackle him and let the others tear him apart. He released his sword, wrenching the axe from the dying man's hand instead; he punched forwards at the next to rush him, the strength of the blow and the weight of his gauntlets caving in their forehead and sending them falling limply. Then he turned, throwing the axe at a third; they ducked, raising a shield to try and deflect the blow, and screamed as the axe bit in, pulling the shield along with it and wrenching their shoulder out of its socket.

He grasped at the hilt of his sword, planting his foot on the corpse it was buried in and pulling it smoothly back out. From another he reached down, claiming a shield that had been lost in the melee; and, bellowing some unintelligible war cry, he sprinted forwards himself, shield out, to knock aside or trample any Golden Boar foolish enough to stand between him and their leader.