[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@Krayzikk][@ERode][@VahkiDane]

[color=goldenrod]"They looked pretty nasty. Had to deal with something similar in the crypt, but..."[/color] Imperceptible beneath the leather and steel save for the ensalleted head, he let the thought trail away with a shrug, scanning through the field for a moment before meeting the shadows of the Knight of the Harvest Moon's visor with his own gaze. They'd largely torn through this flank, enough to scatter the rank-and-file. A couple pairs of them had glommed back together into skirmishing form after the mayhem began to settle, but were swiftly being pulled back apart before they could pick off any lone Knights. 

For the moment, at least, this side had won itself reprieve. Enough to reset before the wedge pushed back behind the treeline, to hunt down whatever masters the desecrated abominations thrown their way heeded. [color=goldenrod]"Big bastards like him are used to throwing their weight around amidst starving sellswords, untrained peasantry, and run-of-the-mill conscripts."[/color] The hammer shifted on his shoulder, as if testing the heft for a swing yet to come, shifting the grip for control. His tone was tight and unkind, but blunt and frank in the way debriefs so often went. [color=goldenrod]"He'd have killed the me from when we first met, probably— But that game crumples when it gets hit by somebody with enough weight to throw back. Steffen and I pretty much ran him over."[/color]

More importantly.

[color=goldenrod]"We need to get a healer to you if we can. How bad?"[/color]