[center][h1][b][color=8B0000]Black Maw Syndicate[/color][/b][/h1][/center]

[b]Kelvara[/b] twisted away from Barrock’s overhead strike, the heavy blade embedding itself in the wooden planks beside her boots. Rolling sideways, she came up in a crouch and pressed her assault relentlessly. Her smaller frame proved advantageous—darting between his defenses, using crates and support beams as cover while her curved steel sought gaps in his armor.

Then suddenly, [b]Grimjaw[/b] erupted from behind as [b]Kelvara[/b] engaged Barrock’s attention. Powerful arms hooked under the orc's armpits, wrenching both limbs backward. Barrock’s sword pulled away from any defensive position while [b]Grimjaw[/b] locked the other orc’s shoulders in an agonizing hold, ignoring the fire in his wounded knee.

Perfect. [b]Kelvara[/b] seized the moment instantly. With Barrock’s arms restrained and defenses completely open, she reversed her grip and lunged. The weapon sliced through dust-filled air, death riding its edge as it closed the final inches...

[hr]
[b]Ironboot[/b] sat up groggily, blinking at the throwing knife protruding from his heavy shoulder padding. The dwarf plucked out the blade and examined it with curiosity. He noted the green coating along its edge before giving it a cautious taste, then spat with disgust and wiped his beard. Decades of his wife’s cooking had built up an impressive tolerance to poison.

He hefted his war hammer, then hurled the poisoned knife at Rowan. The knife sailed past the elf, and [b]Whiskers[/b] charged forward, snatching the thrown blade from the air with ease.

Their coordinated attack struck swiftly. The dwarf’s war hammer crashed into Rowan’s legs, staggering the elf under the weight of his unconscious burdens. As Rowan fought to maintain his balance, [b]Whiskers[/b] sprang up and snatched Aurora from his faltering grip, while [b]Ironboot[/b] rolled and wrapped his thick arm around Vasco’s neck.

Both attackers retreated immediately, dragging their prizes to opposite sides of the warehouse. The dwarf’s muscular forearm pressed against Vasco’s windpipe—a chokehold that could crush the human’s throat with little effort. Meanwhile, [b]Whiskers[/b] held the poisoned knife to Aurora’s pale neck.

[color=FFCC00]“Drop whatever fancy moves you’re planning, pretty boy,”[/color] the rabbit demihuman called out, his voice carrying a manic edge. [color=FFCC00]“One twitch from any of you and these two get to meet their maker real quick-like!”[/color]