The fighting had only just begun. Even after only a moments of combat, it seemed to have lasted for hours. More often than not she found herself pressed against the Templar Captain, trying desperately to cover her back as well as the rest of the band of brothers. The gryphon design on her army was at this stage, stained with the red ichor of men, both her allies and foes alike. Her face had been splattered with a spray of blood from a neck wound she had inflicted on a foe, almost blinding her. She could taste it, feel it... smell it. She had heard tales of warriors of Dragon Peak who drank the blood of their slain enemies to inherit their strength. All Alex was worried about inheriting at this stage was diarrhoea.<br/><br/>She was glad she'd taken up her swords. There was little room in here to swing anything larger than one of her twin blades. Some of the Templar's still used their shields and thrusted forward with swords, but it left little room to do anything else. "A mage would be handy right about now..." she thought to herself. Her lack of focus however very nearly cost her. A sword came to her head, sharp for a bandits blade, slicing away a few hairs from her fringe. She flinched back surprised barely managing to avoid the swords point. The Makers arm extended to save it her it would seem though, as a Templar blade remove the arm holding the blade, it crashed down at her feet, causing a sound that would on a regular day ring across the area, but today was like a leaf in the wind.<br/><br/>As the battle waged on, it was evident there would be no winner anytime soon. The bandits had the advantage in numbers, but with such a position that the Templar's held they could hold the area indefinatly with minimal losses. It wouldn't be long before-<br/>Something had changed, the bandits still pressed but her instincts told her they were biding their time. It might also have been someone shouting about torches, but warrior instincts felt more plausible to her. She could hear her name being yelled from afar, or at least, somewhere that was not the wall of death.<br/><br/>It was then she picked out one of her new friends from earlier. They were gesturing towards someone or something, she couldn't quite see from this angle. It was only then that she caught on to what was happening. Torches to burn their way through. Can't hold a position if its on fire. But she was some what pinned down. She took a step back to catch a breather for a moment, letting a Templar take her place. Was there any other way around behind the line? It could take her too long to reach the torch bearers, and even if she did, others might see her as fleeing. She couldn't push through the line, it would take even longer and risk their position.<br/><br/>She put her luck in the hands of the Maker. She kissed one of her long swords hilts, before eyeing her target. She took a few steps forward before she used the momentum to hurl her sword. It spun through the air uninterrupted toward her target, the light glistend of the swords hilt making it almost appear as a spinning ball of light as it flew to her target, or the torch he carried. She had no time to watch and see if her blade struck true, she just hoped she could recover it later. Instead she took up her shield again and charged back to the line, using her one remaining longsword and shield to reinforce the Templars.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>