faderift | closed / i call this sharp stick "public relations"

Without Marcus Ellie might've fallen to one knee, but thanks to him she keeps her feet. She takes a deep breath and then another, giving him a nod, and is fine with taking a breather behind him while he crunches through another handful of men.

She stares at the arrow in her hand, exhales shakily and makes herself drop it into the dirt.

There are soldiers entering the house, but the sounds of fighting have tapered off, and Ellie has a cold pang of fear as Marcus calls out for Ellis. Thankfully, he appears a second later, and Ellie relaxes.

"Clear on this side," she calls back, then adds volume to her voice for the second part, hoping Glas will hear.

"Need to check the other."

There are soldiers on that side too, and she doesn't hear the sound of fighting, but a few may have slipped away to wait in hiding.

Nocking another arrow, Ellie rallies feeling back into her legs and starts to head that way.

Slowly, the surface of brimming lava begins to form up its dark cooling crust. Marcus lets it, motionless for an extra beat as Ellie breaks away, before falling into step behind her.

A voice, shouted, as they round the building: they're getting away!

One of theirs, yelling, over the sounds of skirmishing—the last of it, anyway, blades coming up red and wet over crumpled forms. Up ahead, a small knot of Venatori had been quick enough to determine that they've lost this battle, had mounted up on those fine horses the Inquisition had spotted on approach, and have gone for broke down the road.

Another spiralling turn of a staff, the sound of it cutting through the air to Ellie's left, behind her, and Marcus impacts the ground with its blunt end. Up ahead, there's the sound of whinnying as the earth beneath those few on the retreat shakes and breaks, forces two horses to rear and stumble, their riders tumbling to the ground.

But two more stay steady, racing away with scarcely a glance back. Beyond his range.

While Ellis has some passing familiarity with ranged weapons, his proficiency does not center around the use of a bow.

The sound of Marcus breaking the earth and the immediate consequence is only a sign to Ellis that the situation is being dealt with. The pair of them are attentive to whoever might not have been stymied by Marcus' ministrations, and it leaves Ellis to follow Ellie's instruction: round the far side of the building.

A pair of Glas' men scramble after him, which—

It's not unwelcome. Not when there is a cluster of Imperial soldiers attempting to heave crates into a covered wagon. But Ellis isn't unaware that how quickly the pair of them snap to his direction might become an issue after, if it's noticed.

Regardless, there is an immediate clash of sword and metal. No magic. Yet.

At the same time Ellis rounds the building to find the wagon, Ellie comes along the other side of it in pursuit of the riders.

She feels the heat of Marcus' spell hurtle past her and hit with devastating force, the horses throwing their riders. They'll be a problem in a moment, but more pressing are the two that have managed to escape the blast zone.

They might be out of Marcus' range, but they're not quite out of Ellie's. She pulls the bowstring back to her ear, narrows her eyes in focus, and the arrow burns with a golden light as it whistles through the air, punching through the eyeslit in the rider's helm as he looks back at his fellows tumbling to the earth.

He's probably not aware of his own fall.

"Marcus!" Ellie calls, gesturing with her bow towards the wagons, where Ellis needs backup that she can't give, if she wants to make this next shot.

Deep breath, pull- and loose.

For a second, she's not sure if even Gold can catch this one. It's at the very fraying edge of her range to begin with, and there are tree limbs starting to reach and claw down.

But it hits, taking the last fleeing Imperial soldier in the shoulder. The force of it knocks her off her horse with a scream; not a mortal wound, but enough to keep her from escaping.

His attention is easily hauled around, from the sound of his name through to the sound of clashing steel. As Ellie lines up that second shot, she can sense in her periphery Marcus moving away from her, a walk that moves into a run before

well, it is not vanishing, exactly. The substance of Marcus remains even as his body is both engulfed by and transforms into a rush of black smoke, full of embers and soot, that suddenly closes the distance between himself and the wagons in a split second. (A little unhelpfully, the trail he makes rushes through the two Inquisition soldiers who'd come to Ellis' aid, momentarily disorienting.) He resolves back into flesh and armor and an already hefted staff just at Ellis' shoulder, a grunt as he brings the bladed end around.

It cleaves deep into some weaker point, a flash of coppery light hinting at some tell of magic that is unclear to observers but made stunningly to the Imperial soldier, who buckles under more force than there should be, crying out, crimson spattering.

Edited (grammar) 2022-11-07 04:43 (UTC)

This isn't magic Ellis has seen before.

But he has fought alongside mages before. The crackle of presence at his back is enough to prompt Ellis to create space, feint one way as Marcus' staff comes around the other. It suits; it creates enough of an opening for Ellis to bring his mace around to connect with the soldier's knees. Seals his downward trajectory.

There is blood spattered all over them both.

"How many more?"

Aside from what they can see in front of them. Inquisition soldiers rushing forward. Ellis glancing back, trying to place Ellie in the fray.

Give it another second, and it'll be two more.

Ellie draws her knife across one of the soldier's throats; it's one of the two men downed when their horses threw them following the earthquake under their feet.

The other is lurching unsteadily, obviously hurt, drawing his sword and staggering. Ellie takes one step backward and stays out of reach of his wild swing, then closes the distance to catch him with her knife under the chin. He crumples at her feet, and Ellie turns back to Marcus and Ellis.

Lifts one hand to wave, as if to say she's fine. Closes the same fist, points back over her shoulder at the last downed rider, tilts her head quizzically to one side.

Need her to get that one?

At that question, it prompts Marcus to glance Ellie's way as he tugs free his weapon, the sodden weight of his enemy collapsing and momentarily ignored.

"One," he confirms. Which is, maybe, an unkind thing to say of the two remaining Imperial soldiers in front of them, about to fall under blade and staff. They are, anyway, fighting with the knowledge their lives depend upon it, and seeing an opening, swings, sword edge connecting with the layers of armor at Marcus' side.

With a grunt, the next strike from Marcus carries with it a magical brightness, a coppery gleam off black iron that sees his blade dent metal and sink past it to the flesh beneath it, the sort of wild strike that would have been a useless expense of energy if not for whatever quality let him slice through chain. Another bared teeth growl, a sudden explosion of spark and flame from that buried sword, and Marcus pushes his enemy off his weapon towards Ellis for finishing.

Backs off, now, bruised and slowed and stamina waning. The fight is at its end, anyway.

Edited (editing woes) 2022-11-27 03:49 (UTC)

closed / i call this sharp stick "public relations"

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