Suzanne
The man Joss tackled to the ground was knocked out cold with the hilt of the boy's knife. It was a hard concussive strike, enough to put the man to sleep for a while. When he turned to the one he slashed the calf of, it wouldn't be a surprise that the man was already up and his idea to stomp his head to the ground had to change. The man was crippled, but still dangerous, especially when he grabbed a throwing knife from his belt and flinged it at the boy's torso. Then he followed with a quick slash from right to left towards the kid's neck.

But then multiple flashes of light occurred and made the group stagger. The white booms of light blinded the enemy temporarily and gave for a chance to execute some sort of escaping plan. It was certain that they wouldn't give up so easily, but at least there was a chance of increasing the gap between the shady figures and the two thieves.
Judy
Joss yelped in alarm, as the man threw a knife at him — trying to jump out of the way, but it passed quickly enough to graze his side. Enough he could tell he'd been cut, but it was not bleeding much yet. It left him jumpy enough that he was a little quicker to get out of the way as the man sliced for his neck, and to rush away —

And then came the flashes of light, which had him damn near blinded. Being on Emiko's side did not in any way make him immune to this effect. He didn't understand what they were, or what had happened — thoughts of some horrible magic came to him — and he turned to run away from it. Quite literally, blindly.
April
Emiko was immediately on the attack after the light faded, leaving pretty much everyone, aside from her, completely blind in the dark of night. The fist carrying her knife immediately slammed down, aiming to either cut into the thigh of the man on top of her, or straight up punch him in the dick, or hopefully, both, before she twists her hips, and tries to shove the man off of her with both hands, so she can roll away, at the very least so she can get into a crouch and figure out her next move
Suzanne
Blinded by the light, the men were distracted enough to give the duo of thieves a window of opportunity to escape or try to kill them.

Considering Emiko thought of one or the other, she ended up throwing a weird punch that made a slash to the thigh of the man on top of her that ended up in her hand feeling his package. That was weird.

Still,he rolled away from her in pain as he squinted his eyes and tried to see again.
Judy
Joss was running, feet pounding the snow, left hand holding to the cut on his side as he did so, massive spots before his eyes from the flash — the right hand still held the knife, and as he tried to look back, he extended the left hand in front of him. He didn't want to run right into the wall surrounding the estate, and realized that there was an actual risk of this. Slowing, vision spotty, trying to see what was going on, if the lady-thief was getting away, what had been the source of all that light.
April
The thief was immediately on her feet, taking a quick glance around the area, and ignoring the men on the ground, she sheathed her knife, dashing for Joss, grabbing the kid's left arm and, as gently as she could, pulled him after her.

"Put yer knife away, ya'll climb faster without it" She says to him quietly, quickly leading him to the wall, while keeping an eye on the blinded thieves "Now, up n' over, but keep it quiet"
Judy
Joss saw her approaching, and was *Relatively* Sure she wasn't one of the men — not sure enough that he didn't put some more distance between them initially, though. He was a good climber, but he'd never climbed blind like this before. Sheathing his knife as she pulled him along, trying to quiet his breathing down from panting to something more silent as he found places to grip primarily by feel, head moving all about, trying to see through the bright blotches in his vision. Managing to get over relatively quickly, and very quietly, though it was painful, feeling the cut at his side pulling with the motions, and his left hand left a bloody print where it first gripped. 

Once over the wall, he'd try to keep going as quick as he could, none of the threats still behind him forgotten — not the blinded thieves, nor her threat of a thrashing.
April
Emiko made an effort to help Joss over the wall, making sure he could find all the right handholds, before nimbly following him over, about as easily as one would hop a small fence. She then proceeds to grab his arm again, though less forcefully, and starts leading him through the streets 

"Keep yer eyes closed, yer sight'll come back faster. An' don't worry, I won't let ya run inter anythin" She says quietly, the hard edge missing from her voice, her general demeanour seeming much the same, though she was still rather alert for any signs of being followed
Judy
Joss' teeth gritted, but he did as she suggested, closing his eyes tightly. His hearing was particularly acute, due to an unusual aspect of his upbringing, but he felt incredibly disoriented. Must have been the light — and the confusion of the entire situation, he supposed — moving quickly as she pulled him through the streets.
Joseph
The shifters stomach began to turn as the group passed the sign indicating they weren't far from their destination. Perhaps another day's journey and they'd arrive in Brindell by the next rising sun. Thats if they continued without rest. 

Marsila found herself being uncommunative towards the group for a short while as she had been preoccupied, using most of her focus in seeking out any possible attackers towards their group. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was to intrude on their trip. Perhaps she was being paranoid without the safety of Rekkan by her side, or she was simply reacting to the lack of her amulet to calm her mind.

Eventually she was forced to focus back on the task at hand and the group she hoped to protect. The two boys, Twiss and Swass, were cracking jokes between each other when Marsila found herself walking closer towards them, her fingers tapping anxiously against the hidden amulet as she did so. The shifter did her best to mentally talk herself out of wearing the jewel, though it was a difficult task to accomplish. Fortunately in the end, she had managed to continue without it. 

"Would either of you two have an extra weapon I could carry?" She question, mainly aiming it at Twiss. Even though Swass had spirit, Marsila didn't enjoy the thought of him pushing himself past what he is capable, especially with his injuries. "Swass, I really think you should be in one of the wagons, or guarding the sick if you're so desperate to be placed on guard duty."
Suzanne
The two friends stopped with their antics and looked at Marsila, paying attention to her request. Twiss was the one to hand her a sword he had extra to the one he acquired just prior to joining Atovar's group. It was well balanced, though not of the best quality out there. It would have to do. Swass scratched the top of his head, a habit he shared with his childhood friend.

"Ugh, you sure, Marsila? I think I'm ready to be in the frontline. Kinda feel like dead weight if I'm stuck all the way back guarding the kids."

He was eager to prove himself, although he had already shown his worth by helping the group with cover fire when fighting off the mercenaries in the village.

Several paces ahead of the caravan, the lone wanderer focused his third eye into a scope that scoured the surrounding plains for the energies that peaked through the terrain. He found it odd to sense a wave of mixed essences being encrypted in its enclosure, which gave him an eery creep that chilled his spine in its crawl. He started a low chant to enhance his shamanistic abilities, but as he did that, the energy that tried to disrupt his readings elevated as well to counter his efforts. His third eye throbbed and he grit his teeth. Something was coming. The warrior turned around to walk back to the caravan, but he was met by the sudden appearance of a woman garbed in a familiar tribal outfit.

"Who are you?" He demanded, almost sneering.

The woman's skin was of pale complexion, akin to that of the nomadic people from northern Taemar. She did not answer his question, not with words, for she had other plans for Rekkan. Just like the wanderer, she uttered words in a low and rhythmic form, a chant that made the earth around her stir and become wet. The mudlike mold shaped into humanoid figures that hardened quickly and rushed the man. In their charge, they were further manipulated to have earthen sticks jut out from their hands.

"Tch. Filthy tricks."

Rekkan armed himself with Fang, but at the same time the flames were cast from the palm of his right hand, he felt a cruel bite that made him drop the soul forged sword. The visions of the nightmarish tunnel of flesh and gnawing teeth burned his eyes and caused him to be open for attack, which the mud figures capitalized on. They struck his upper limbs and torso, making the wanderer reel back as the sword faded into flames, then smoke that turned to nothing.

A heavy current of wind rolled through the atmosphere. Rekkan almost got too caught up in his confusion to listen to it, but he managed to duck as his eyes widened. A small but heavy ball of iron flew past and above his thick strands of hair. The sound of chains deafened the sizzling motion of another threat as the weight was pulled back and once more over his head, though a deadly sickle sizzles from his left flank to try and stab his left shoulder. Rekkan rolled onto the ground, trying to increase the gap between himself and the threats. He had an idea how they managed to fool his sixth sense, because memories of his mother surfaced for a moment. A shamanka was with them. Both spirit and flesh were combined to hunt him this time around.

Behind him was an athletic figure wielding a very odd weapon. A sickle attached to a weight of iron by a long chain.

"Quite the reflexes for a big guy!" The man shouted. "But you're not getting away this time!"

The sickle was thrown first, sizzling echo muffled by the rapid chain flight following in tow. The man had a solid grip on the length of the chain as he kept twirling the ball to his right side.
Joseph
When Swass replied, Marsila felt her eyes roll as she had expected his answer. He was far from ready to be on the front line of anything and if a fight was to break out, she didn't want to to risk having him further injured due to his own carelessness. 

"I'm certain." She interrupted before he was able to continue with his complaints. She took the sword from Twiss, weighing it in her hand before sliding it into the sheath on her side, something that had been part of her outfit that Rekkan had found. "Just give yourself another day to allow your body to heal and then you can do whatever you want." 

The feeling of dread never ceased but grew instead. She hoped Rekkan was able to take care of himself if something was to happen. At least she had Ymir, his men and the Two friends to help her if they were attacked. Though she would most likely force half to protect the children and injured as they were unable to do so themselves. 

As she looked between Twiss and Swass, her lips pressed together into a thin line as she thought of possible outcomes they may suffer through. 

"Are you able to guard the sick and young? I don't think we have enough people on them if something was to happen. The women may even swoon over it. I've heard us females enjoy the sight of a strong man protecting children, a turn on to some." Was she telling the truth? Who knows. She just wanted Swass safe and not throwing himself in danger.
Suzanne
The warrior's aching head was a hindrance that slowed his reaction, but he managed to get a grip over the blade of the sickle. It drew blood from his left palm, a pain that he endured.

The wielder of the strange weapon pulled the side of the chain belonging to the curved blade. He wanted to drag Rekkan towards the ball of iron which he threw, switching the length of the chain through the attack so that Rekkan was caught with a massive blow to the center of his face. Such an unorthodox weapon would break the nose, if not obliterate the skull at the speed it was shot from its momentum built swing. To counter the attack, Rekkan planted his left foot on the ground, making the man grit his teeth. The wanderer was strong, and even if the sickle dug into his callused skin, he'd resist and prevent the man from having a good grip over the chain. It made his opponent switch tactics and whip the chain, thus making the ball fall flat on the ground in front of Rekkan as the mud beings tried to surround him.

The warrior let go of the sickle. The strange weapon needed to be retracted and build again on momentum to be used again, so he used that window of opportunity to bring forth a weapon he hadn't in a long time.

Rekkan's hands met to the left side of his hips. His right pulsed with a powerful light that flashed as he rotated his center mass and dragged his right foot back in the spin. From the incandescent surge bloomed the elven blade, Flash. The Flash was a slightly curved sword crafted in the continent of elves to the East, inherited from his mentor's house when it was brought to ruin by his own kin.

The blade was removed from the hard case sheathe in a horizontal release. Its length beamed with the reflection of the sun as it cut through earthen bodies and ripped them in half. His body's movements were fluid, like water. It was contrast to his wilder actions when wielding Fang.

It was then that actual men and more earthen figures appeared. The chain and sickle warrior attacked again, throwing his ball. Rekkan wielded his weapon with a two-handed grip and parried, finding his sword wrapped in the ball and chain.

"You're fucked now!"

...

There was some truth, subjective as it was, to what Marsila said. The boys didn't find it wrong to be looked at as strong protectors of the weak, so they abided by her suggestion and reassigned their positions closer to the wagons transporting the sick, the elderly and the infants. That was perhaps the best thing Marsila could have done in that moment, but also the worst. She could sense them when they were close. It was a group of horsemen charging at full speed, and one of them was clearly a familiar face, if not engraved in the minds of the caravan's members.

Atovar did not hesitate. Even when Antonius ordered his men to form a line and raise their spears, the chargers kept going with the intent of breaking through the flimsy shield wall that was created by peasants turned guards.

It would take time for Ymir to rush from the rear and provide backup to the caravan. Marsila could join the wall or spectate the initial clash, but the collision was brutal. Bodies were tackled to the ground and trampled by Atovar's men, who were more experienced than the ragtag bunch. 

Arrows rained on the rear of the cavalry formation. Ymir was still several meters away, but as he and his hunters closed the gap, they fired at the enemies they had a clear shot on.

As for Twiss and Swass, they followed the shapeshifter's advice. The horsemen that unmounted or tried to pass through to harass the wagons were shot by bolts or slashed at by the two friends. Even with Swass not at full health, they worked well together, and when one reloaded his crossbow, the other stepped forth to cover him.
Joseph
It was impossible to miss the thundering gallops made by the horses Atovar and his men rode. The grass beneath them tore as they charged towards the man-made barrier Antonius and his men had created before crashing through the shields and spears with little effort. 

Marsila stood in her place, frozen by the shock that overcame her when she noticed the sinister male and the many men he had by his side. The had managed to reorganise themselves and regroup faster than she had thought was possible. How had that been possible? Did the bounty on Rekkan's head fall deeper than they had thought. 

The screams of the villagers snapped Marsila from her thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

Witnessing the fallen men with many becoming severely injured after being trampled on, Marsila felt a surge of anguish rush through her. Atovar had no obvious care for others and seemed more than pleased to have them killed beneath him and it did nothing but enrage the shifter. She had enough of him murdering as he pleased, taking enjoyment in others suffering. 

Her fingers tightened around the sword's handle Twiss had given her as her knuckles drew a white shade from the pressure she placed. It was a mess, and close to a blood bath as Atovar's men slaughtered those they could. Without another moment of hesitation, the shifter pushed herself towards the men, sprinting as fast as her body abled her to whilst using any rock or platform she had height to her attacks as they had been on large beasts. It was simple for who she planned on making her way towards, hoping that if she was to subdue Atovar, the others would retreat and Rekkan and herself would be able to pry information out of him. 

The blade cut cleanly through the torso of the rider closest to her, the lack of amulet around her neck allowing her to do so without guilt before she moved to another. Her strength matched her speed, inhumane as she sliced through the men that blocked her path to Atovar, the motion of the blade almost an art form with the way it glided. As if she had a third arm.
Suzanne
The battle between the caravan guard and the mercenaries grew into a bloodbath. The effort of the peasants to hold the broken line was rewarded with a moment of respite when Ymir's hunters joined the melee and provided the skill missing from the others. The fact that some were still a bit drowsy from the previous night also tipped the scales against them. However, Antonius and Ymir were shouting, calling them to drag inner strength out of their cores.

"Fight on! Fight on!!! Stand by each other!"

Ymir revealed unparalleled energy. He cut through the side of the enemy and made everything in his reach to secure his men's position and push onward. It was different from before, as he noticed Atovar didn't hold back in expenses to hire stronger mercenaries. However, the legendary hunter wouldn't let that scare him.

Atovar saw a woman's advance and smirked. He realized that for someone to have those attributes, she needed to be the one he was after. He only saw her as a wolf back at the village, but the way she moved gave away her magical heritage. He leaped from his horse and moved towards her, unwavering to her inhumane speed and strength.

"There you are! The swordsman's lap dog!" He taunted.

The sadistic captain's stance was unnatural to most and his weapon was a fine blade that he called a rapier. It was mainly used to thrust, but had great properties in parrying blows and riposting. He didn't go into the offensive. Instead, the mercenary captain lowered his upper body with his feet spread apart and waited for the woman to make her move. His smirk turned into a grin.

Twiss and Swass, the two childhood friends, dragged the injured against the wagons and worked together as always to keep the enemy at bay. They were lucky to be joined by Antonius, who reformed his men and managed to withstand the tide.

...

"I'm done playing your games!"

Rekkan was by no means a weak fighter. His fibrous muscle steamed as sweat poured from his skin's pores in an overdrive reaction to all the beings collapsing on him. Instead if letting the chain and sickle warrior use the bladed side of his chain, he pulled him towards him with a powerful yank of the wrapped chain, forcing him into a flight he did not expect. The swordsman tackled the man onto the ground before skipping three steps past him and towards one of the circle's sides. In that swift motion of his legs, his upper body moved with his arms, swinging Flash so that it cut through those eager to get the drop on him. He tolerated none, showing them no mercy as their guts were torn open for the bowels to spill or their necks severed to spray blood. Those would be slow and agonizing deaths. Choking or holding their own intestines as they bled out. The curved sword Rekkan wielded had cutting precision unlike many others, forged from the stomach of an active volcano in the far east.

The shamanka stepped back. She was frightened. More so when the warrior made short work of every earthen creation she threw at him. She was also growing tired, then exhausted, for chanting was draining on her body. She tried a last resort, raising both her hands to bring jagged rock up from the underground to rip through the surface and shoot at Rekkan. The man took his right hand from the blade and pointed it at the rock, making the shamanka see a symbol she hadn't in a long time.

The spiral of the Batsaikhan. A dead tribe's symbol on the man's right palm.

"Enough!" He growled, fanning blazing hot flames that slowed the thrown rock and made it fall heating red and shattering on the ground.

But the chain and sickle fighter was up once more and used the opportunity, the distraction, to throw his iron ball and wrap it around Rekkan's legs. He pulled and made the swordsman fall.

"Die!"

He threw his sickle in an overswing, holding to the chain and dragging the large warrior along the ground into the bullseye zone. It felt too fast with how the man twirled and shot it, but Rekkan rolled once and swung his blade, parrying the attack. He used the momentum of the pull to get on his joined feet and spring towards his adversary, swinging his blade from over his head and down. The man was fast, bt not fast enough to feel the cold edge of Flash against his chest and down to his solar plexus, creating a deep gash that grinded bone and sliced flesh. A scream of pain ensued. He dropped his weapon and stumbled on the ground before quickly getting back up to his feet and starting to run.

Rekkan did not consider giving chase. He turned his focus to those remaining, whose will to fight already faltered. The wounded beast charged, blood and sweat steaming into the atmosphere as the sight of his assault was seen with awe by the Taemarian shamanka. Was that the Batsaikhan rage she only heard of from tales passed down by her forefathers?
April
Emiko guided him smoothly, making sure he didn't trip or run into anything, as she lead him to, what appeared to be, the back of a somewhat dingy tavern, the thief staring up at a window on the 2nd story for a moment before acting.

"'Aight, here, do me a favour an' keep it quiet while I get ya up there, 'k? Gotta do somethin' bout that cut, an' I ain't comfortable doin' it out here" She says in a quiet whisper, climbing up the wall till she's hanging from that particular windowsill, and reaching her hand down towards Joss "C'mon kid, I'll help ya up"
Judy
Clearly the boy had more experience in keeping quiet, and moving, while injured than he did in actually fighting — or interacting with other criminals. It was hard to say what that spoke to, but it didn't suggest a life overcrowded with friends. He was damn near silent the whole way as they went. He'd whisper back: "I kin take care of it if — if it's a problem." Holding tight to the cut. 

But if she proceeded upwards, he would follow — wiping his bloody hand on his own clothing before clambering up, taking her hand only if he definitely needed to. He understood that she had helped him, but perhaps he was afraid he'd slip, or she would, if he put so much weight on her grip — not that he looked remotely heavy, skinny runt that he was.
Joseph
Her thoughts ran wild as she failed to gain control over herself. Her eyes were no longer the usual shade of blue, but replaced with a unique amethyst shade as she scowled menacely towards Atova. His statement left her momentarily confused as she was unable to shift into that specific animal until she remembered Fang had too, made an appearance. 

She had lost all attention to those around her and was only able to focus on the Captain who had made their lives nothing but hell since the day they first ran into him. Even before then he had made it impossible for Rekkan or herself to find a place to rest without fear of being caught. 

Her teeth clenched as she refused to give him a reply, allowing him to think she had Fang's form. Raising the sword with little effort, Marsila felt the muscles in her legs tense before she was thrown forward, lunging towards Atovar's direction in a fit of rage. Her vision had been blinded by red as she focused on Atovar and his hopeful death.

The shifter was far from the type who enjoyed killing, let alone wish for someone's head to be removed by their own hands. She was Glad Rekkan was, to her knowledge, still far ahead from the group to witness her act in such a manner. She assumed that he too had been attacked by Atovar's men due to his disappearance. 

Priscilla held some of the children close to her as they screamed in terror. It broke her heart that children this young were forced to witness the death of their families and those they cared about, not once but twice now. They remained inside the wagon as those outside faught, fearing to go outside as it was a bloodbath, something to be kept from innocent eyes.
April
Emiko just frowns at him when he attempts to refuse the help, helping him up somewhat easily, as she was stronger than she looked, being able to pull herself up ledges at least a foot taller than she was, with no issue.

And so she pulled the boy into what was essentially a small, single, sleeping quarters, usual for most taverns who also offered rooms for patrons. And it was relatively sparse, a single bed in one corner, small table nearby, and not much else that seemed permanent parts of the room. There was also a bucket of water, and a few rags, sitting by the door, and a closed up pack at the end of the bed, that looked to be the thief's.

After Joss was in the window, Emiko shut it behind him, leaving it unlocked, and walked over to the door, checking it was still locked, before inspecting the water bucket, and picking it up, moving it over to the bed "Sit and shirt up. I ain't exactly a healer, but I at least know how t' stop that from gettin worse" She says, eyeing the kid's bleeding wound
Judy
Joss was confused — probably pained, but he bore pain as one used to it, with a certain resignation. Looking round once he was in the room, uncertainly. "... If y'put snow onnit, th'bleedin' slows down. Or if y'press onnit hard I guess." He wasn't exactly a healer either, but neither was he entirely ignorant of how to address his wounds, it seemed. Still, his teeth gritted as he sat on the bed and carefully pulled off his cloak and shirt — all the climbing and motions that stretched it had made the wound worse than it had been to start with, and though it didn't seem very *Deep*, the cut was bleeding a good deal now. It lay on his right side, just below the ribcage, every last rib of which showed clear. He winced, looking at it.