[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjY2LmZlZTMwMC5SWHBsYTJsbGJDQktiM0pwYjI0LjA/angel-bandit-demo.regular.webp[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Cq67IYB.gif[/img][/center]
[color=FEE300]Race:[/color] Aasimar
[color=FEE300]Class:[/color] Paladin
[color=FEE300]Location:[/color] Stormrider; Cargo Hold
[color=FEE300]Interactions:[/color]Scratch & Val [@Apex Sunburn]
[color=FEE300]Equipment:[/color] His longsword; [url=https://i.imgur.com/0dnfaQH.jpeg]Retribution[/url] and a [url=https://i.imgur.com/TAGHTJ2.jpeg]healing amulet[/url]. A [url=https://i.imgur.com/92lzGaT.jpeg]backpack[/url] with supplies and his [url=https://i.imgur.com/pSHLAct.jpeg]lute[/url]. 
[color=FEE300]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/cVUVpsf.jpeg]Clothing[/url] and [url=https://i.imgur.com/pezKStD.jpeg]gloves[/url]
[color=FEE300]Gold Balance:[/color] 87
[color=FEE300]Injuries:[/color] New injuries; concussion, fractured ribs, giant splinter in his leg, injured shoulder, all bruised up. Old injuries include a missing eye, numerous iridescent scars, and a knee that aches when it rains.
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[color=silver]
Ezekiel kept one hand tightly coiled around the netting that secured a stack of secured crates. The other remained wrapped around Venn, who he’d caught just in time before she could be blown away by the winds that filled the cargo hold. He shielded her from the worst of the flying debris. Between the powerful gusts, the shrieking griffon, and the clatter of wood and metal - the room descended in indistinguishable chaos. 

Then the griffon soon shrieked no more. 

The winds softened just enough. 

Little remained in the cargo hold to be flung around. 

As the paladin rose amongst the wreckage; the damage to the cargo hold was startling. If he was certain of anything at that moment it was that a giant hole in the side of an airship was a huge problem. If red-hooded terrorists didn’t kill them before that door opened a crashing airship certainly would, and if the ship was left so damaged and without its engineer…well that couldn’t be an option. 

The griffon was gone, as was the warrior with twin blades, and only two enemies remained. The odds shifted just enough as divine favor blessed them with an evened up battlefield. 

“I’m tired of these fucking tricks…Fight me, you cowards.” The warrior with the sickle surged forward, his weapon dragging behind him. Sparkler’s eyes burned, the rage in them was unmistakable. Good. Anger made men sloppy. 

Ezekiel matched the intensity but not the emotion. It wasn’t rage Sparkler looked back at, it was judgement. The sickle wielding warrior would not commit another wicked act. The only mercy Sparkler would find now was with whatever god he prayed to and his soul would soon journey to the next plane. 

The floor rattled. A pressure pulsed like an urgent warning. Whatever it meant, it wasn’t good, and it could not be heeded until those last two warriors were slain and the door to cargo had opened. 

One thing at a time. 

He freed his sword from its sheath once more. Magic powered by unshakable faith followed from Ezekiel into the weapon. It not only glowed but hummed softly with the protective light of [color=gold][b]Holy Bulwark[/b][/color]. If Sparkler dealt the first blow, the Aasimar’s sword was poised to handle it and any magical force that came with it. But he didn’t intend for the opponent to have a chance to lift his heavy sickle from the ground where it dragged and screeched. 

Both hands gripped the hilt of his sword, his eye remained locked on the enemy with intensity of a hawk, and Ezekiel charged forward. He couldn’t match the speed Sprakler had, but he wasn’t giving the spellcaster any more time to throw them another curveball. This fight was happening right now. 

A shot rang out, and Sparkler’s shield sputtered and died. Scratch held tight to the musket. 

[color=EBA536]"I'll focus on the spellcaster,"[/color] Scratch’s voice carried through the hold with ease. [color=EBA536]"You focus on taking the one with the sickle out as quickly as you can!"[/color]

As the two warriors closed in on one another, that momentary distraction was put to use. Retribution, aglow with light, swung at the red-hooded figure with unyielding intent to kill and decades of precision. He aimed not to merely strike the opponent with the blade but to cleave through him. As deep as the blade could cut and then just a little bit further, propelled by the paladin’s sheer will alone. 
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