[h2][color=lightblue]Rolan[/color][/h2]

[hr]

[color=lightblue]"Well done, I'm sure the Captain appreciates the effort even more than I do."[/color]

Rolan had, after a glance confirmed nothing would fall on his fellows below, loaded and loosed a bolt tipped with a vial of Alchemist's Fire to sort out the pack that the Astral Lance had not accounted for. The dense, choking cloud had worked like a charm in scattering the impending charge, leaving two clumps vulnerable to the attacks of both mage and knight, though it was never easy enough to simply deal with one wave of abominations. Still, the low pass gave him a moment to observe where his bolts were needed next while Gertrude slung another spell completely, this time not simply incinerating everything that offended her. So she could learn after all, there was hope for them all yet. The Captain looked to be directing other members of the Order, one group peeling off to intercept a flank from the left by Siheyar, and he only hoped that they got all the pain and misery they deserved, wretched things. Two more knights, those he was far less familiar with, struck out to keep the ranks of the Hunt from reorganizing and interfering with the duels going on. 

Rolan envied [i]none[/i] of his fellow knights, least of all Dame Tyaethe, no matter how much she enjoyed facing down Rozenalt, plenty of blood being shed but no signs of the pitched fight slowing down yet. Ser Gerard seemed to be in quite the, relatively speaking, civilized duel with the pale one, a blow left an interloper dead by the, nominally, Hunt's own hand. He'd have to be certain before interfering, no telling how far her reach truly was. Ser Renar met a trapper's cunning with force, and more than enough of it to splinter wood and lash out with a clever trick with concealed powder being hurled. He'd have to offer his fellow a more varied selection of mixtures to mix up what he could surprise his enemies with, a later consideration. Ser Fionn was show boating, not the best plan but given all they had to do was slay Rozenalt, keeping attention might just work better than a fast kill, fortune willing it worked in their favor. Ser Fleuri was the most beset, and Rolan was making ready to lend his bolts in the beleaguered knight's fight when two things came to his attention.

One, the Captain was making all due haste to assist Ser Fleuri, which was good for the long term. More irritatingly, however, the oncoming swarm was only growing. The screeching vulture crones were coming up in greater numbers, and he was reaching for another bolt of alchemist fire when they suddenly faltered. Sharp eyes spotted the black arrows felling vast numbers of the crones, a sharp glance towards where they were coming from was all he could spare as a previously agreed upon opportunity arose. Rozenalt had forced a gap between Dame Tyaethe and himself, blade raised high as it channeled some sort of mad power, and he plucked the bolt he had prepared specially for the Bloody Lord, the most potent paralytic he could make coating the bodkin tipped bolt. He spoke just loud enough to be heard by Gertrude, already shouldering the crossbow and taking advantage of the moment, however brief, the hail of black arrows bought them. He dared not guess names while in such a pitched fight, but black arrows stuck clearly in his memory for who might have loosed them in the Knight's favor. 

[color=lightblue]"Steady us for a moment..."[/color]

Breath in, take aim, breath out, and Rolan loosed the poisoned bolt. He could be chastised later, and the constant shots raining down from above had hopefully let arrogance set in for Rozenalt, that not even the crossbow wielding hedge knight dared draw his ire despite range and height allowing him to. The shot was aimed right for the armpit of Rozenalt, where the armor would be least effective and was most exposed from the raised blade, and where the bolt could bury itself most deeply. Then, fortune willing, the poison would tip the scales in the favor of their vampire even further. Did he have confidence that Tyaethe could prevail? Certainly, but as was agreed upon prior, better to ensure the victory, after all this was no tournament fight, it was a pitched battle for life or death. The rustling from the north was worth noting, loading and readying another bolt for what was about to come from the treeline.

[color=lightblue]"Fortune willing that works, though we've likely more trouble from the north. Shall we see how many of them we can make die?"[/color]