The Knights of the Hunt. The grinning men. The twisted imps. Moments ago, Fanilly and a few of the other knights had been in their midst, but now their enemies stood as crystalline statues. It was a further moment of respite. Fanilly could move more freely again. And the one who had offered this assistance--- "Thank you, Lady Gertrude!" Over the din of battle, it wasn't necessarily certain she would be heard, but she would offer her thanks as best she could nonetheless. Now she had a further moment to breath, direct her knights, and See that she put her own skills to their best use. "Sir Heyverd, take your men and suppress the Siheyar emerging from the left flank," she ordered, casting her eyes towards the tall, poleaxe-wielding knight. He was of an easygoing, but reliable nature, and no small amount of skill. She'd noticed the tall, blackened figures of the Midnight Men arriving to join the Hunt, and could not allow them to disrupt Dame Tyaethe's duel or any of the other clashes. Besides, the child-snatching terrors deserved the blade of justice, and this was their best opportunity to see to it. "Dame Alisaie---" Of the knights, Alisaie was an odd sort. She almost seemed like a ghost, barely present and ethereal, her white armor matching her pale skin and grey hair. She was rumored to carry fae blood, and at the very least was among the knights of the order capable of magic herself. It was only fitting that she was among their numbers today when considered in that light. "---The Knights of the Hunt are regrouping. Take Sir Urgoven and disrupt their formation!" The darker-skinned knight, child of an Asheraadi diplomat and a noble of Thaln and a highly capable defender with a hotblooded nature, raised his sword and shield and joined Dame Alisaie as the knights broke off to pursue their orders. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. They were beset by nightmares from all around. And yet, and yet--- Dame Lilette's words. The training in that world apart from this one. She had to have faith in them, and in her knights. They had to beat the Midnight Hunt! And to that end, she'd fight as hard a she could. She had to, for that was the role of Knight-Captain. Blade glittering in the light of the moon, of hurtling magic cast over the battlefield, Fanilly made her choice. Of her knights, it was Sir Fleuri who was beset by the most number of foes! Meanwhile, in the air, the vulture crones shrieked, their hideous voices ripping through the knight sky like razors as they tried to evade the black smoke, disrupting their approach. They had largely split into two separate flocks, the malice on their haggard faces only growing as they were forced to evade the black smoke, making them easier targets for Lady Gertrude's spells and Sir Rolan's bolts. Indeed, several let out a final screech as their bodies were torn apart by the brilliant light of Astral Lance. But more still rose from the forest, ascending to join the others in an attempt to swarm the mage and the knight. And the--- Fell? Indeed, no small number of the new flock of crones was falling, screaming, from the sky, as black arrows from the forest struck them, piercing their twisted bodies from below. Someone from the forest was assisting the knights? But who? Solace would be difficult to take, however, when the treeline to the north suddenly shifted, rustling. Something enormous was about to emerge... [@Octo][@Eisenhorn] [hr] Were it anyone else, a single nick from the blasphemous, cursed blade could have spelled doom. The grasping phantoms would tear wounds larger, invade them, curse them--- But such low-level attempts at possession would find it far harder to find purchase in one of the clergy. And the tattered edges of the wounds would mend just as swiftly due to Dame Tyaethe's nature as a vampire. It was something that the Bloody Lord was well aware of. "Arrogant? Arrogance is your presumption of victory, vampire!" Red tendrils, almost like thorny vines, emerged from beneath Rozenalt's armor, a flurry of them hurtling forth. While Dame Tyaethe could certainly heal, a shredded limb could make it more difficult for her to keep on the pressure. Regardless, as the tendrils filled the space between them for a moment, the Bloody Lord leapt back, raising his sword above his head. The faint cries of pain from the spirits bound from it were growing louder and more desperate, screams of horror and fear as a current of red-black light began to swirl upwards and around the heretical weapon. "The pain I sew as the Leader of this Midnight Hunt is only a fraction of the joyous vengeance I will one day wreak upon this land! I won't have that future taken from me!" [@Raineh Daze] [hr] The spectral falcon seemed to take some effort to reform from its cleaving as the falconer regarded Fionn, its head at a curious tilt. Whatever alien thoughts passed through its head judged Fionn as worthy, or perhaps necessary, to engage; the avian knight shrugged back the cloak of feathers to reveal its thus-far hidden weapons: in one hand, a serviceable rapier, and in the other… a plethora of knives? No; a gauntleted claw, its long talons each a heavy blade. Without the element of surprise, it seemed the falconer was instead relying on speed and, unexpectedly, fencing technique as it thrust forwards. [@The Otter] [hr] The trapper caught the end of the polearm easily, despite the clunkiness of doing so [i]with[/i] a beartrap, and seemed entirely content to leave the trap affixed to the end of the weapon as an attempt at destabilisation. But despite its silence, the blinding powder seemed to have some effect on the eerie creature – rather than attack with the short dagger slipped out from somewhere on its armour, it instead slipped backwards with an uneasy gate, the lingering embers flaring up protectively. The gap between it and Renar grew darker by the moment, a thick carpet of leaves blowing in from the surrounding woods. [@Psyker Landshark] [hr] The Houndmaster scarcely seemed to care as its Hounds were cut down, even as its axe was deflected – it simply spun the weapon around to cleave through the beasts in an almost exaggerated-seeming spray of blood, continuing to slam down on Fleuri with a staggering amount of force. Of course, there were only seconds before it seemed to have yet more to call on; another pattern of whistles betrayed the fae huntsman's call… Yet, there was no immediate attack. Oh, they were visible out of the corner of Fleuri's eyes, but they seemed to be [i]waiting[/i]. [@Crimson Paladin] [hr] While her features were obscured, at the very least the Pale Lady's response to Sir Gerard's declaration did not appear to be a negative one. The edged, spike weapon in her hand gleamed lightly as it would almost be possible to feel her unseen gaze traveling over his appearance. Perhaps it was simple analysis, the frail-looking unseelie fae doing everything she could to understand what her opponent was capable of before the fight even began. Or perhaps, as was equally likely, she was merely curious. Regardless, she appeared to have some level of interest in a fair, one-on-one clash, given she not only slew the interloper but allowed the knight to ready himself. Perhaps his willingness to accept the challenge had mattered, rather then attempting to flee? Without words or even expressions, it was difficult to guess. But certainly, there seemed to be a chill on the air that wasn't present, and then--- A flick of the wrist. It was visible, but only barely. The disturbance of the air could be felt, too, but more then that there was something even stranger. For the briefest of moments, it appeared the view of the world before the knight was split, one half unaligned from the other. It was quite obvious what would happen if he failed to answer her attack. [@HereComesTheSnow]