RP:Liberation Ch4; Assault on the Imperial Barracks

Part of the Liberation of Rynvale Arc

LOCATION: Rynvale, The Imperial Barracks (Rp’d Location)

Shishi arrived at the place the communiqué from Parsithius had instructed him to, the vampire, as usual, under-dressed for such an occasion, wearing a tie and jacket of all things. With his hands in the pockets of said jacket the vampire saunters into the barracks, no doubt earning a look or two. His beloved scarf has been left at home as he expects to be able to cut loose today, "So... Is this where I'm supposed to be?" he asks no one in particular.

Parsithius 's own figure is draped in a cloak which harrows tight his figure, around gauntlets, pauldrons, and platemail alike to hide his enormously armored figure and the gold locks atop his head. Only halberd remains in grim focus, being held within a mithril-covered hand. Azure eyes flit toward Shishi; the vampire is scrutinized, and thereafter, they slide toward the foyer of the barracks itself. A large, fort-esque building, compromised entirely of stone, the barracks holds many corridors, hallways, and grand rooms, alongside simple ones; where Shishi and Parsithius stand, however, is the largest room of the building -one that stretches from entrance to dining hall. Guards are at attention, and upon the vampire's bold entry, they flit their gaze upon him; the Knight's eyes further peruse their surroundings. At either side of this foyer, toward the ceiling, is the balcony to the second floor. They'd need to enact some serious parkour to gain such altitude, but that would be a distinct advantage. "Yes," the golden-haired human says to the vampire, eliciting more stares.

Shishi grins, exposing white fangs to those whose eyes he's attracted, "Excellent." he said, giving off the impression of excitement. There was a possibility that the assassin sees this as some kind of escape from 'mundane' family life, but that seems like a strange thing to think considering the rather chaotic, unpredictable nature of the rest of his family. His hands still stuck in his pockets, the vampire tilts his head towards the Knight, asking, "So... What is it we should be doing?"

Parsithius 's armored thumb jerks in the direction of the door beside him; a veritable and tangible signal flares to life in the distance, seen by off-hand chance from the knight who promptly nods to a few rather nondescript characters in cloaks of their own. Six of them, in fact, arranged in proper locations throughout the front of the foyer; upon the signal from their commander, the five-o'-clock-shadow'd men sudden draw their swords. In mere moments, they each plunge their weapons into that of a true Empire Guard, dropping six in almost simultaneous movement before altering their path. Vindictive, but only in this manner, the men throw back their cloaks and expose their own chainmail armor -tabarded with the outcast insignia. Parsithius himself discards his own attire to reveal that platemail armor and long, golden hair, forcefully kicking open the door just beside him. Immediately ushered within, the six men move swiftly, using their weapons to parry the blows of the three guards within, and slay them. Parsithius motions for Shishi to follow into the room, before he'd close and bar the door behind them. In this manner, the only way to go would be to sneak upward; which is Shishi's area of expertise -a rather acrobatic assignment. Positioned in a guard's training room, the place is filled with some meager weapons and dummies, with two doors to the west and east; lined with windows to the south. Parsithius and his men secure and bar both doors while the knight turns to his favored friend. "Lord Shishi. It's time to let loose; you can fit through those windows, scale the outside wall to the top, can you not?"

Shishi eyes the set of armored men with a forced sense of ambivalence that keeps him looking cool and stops him from outwardly admiring their synchronized movements. When the Knight kicks open the door Blue winces but still maintains his ambling pace as he follows Parsithius into the training room after their guard has dealt with the threats. Finally, when the Knight speaks to him, Blue pulls his hands from his pockets and holds them up like he was trying to show that he wasn't hiding anything within his coat, "That's not a problem." is his reply as his irises begin to go through their accursed transformation, becoming crimson where once they were oceanic blue. When he moves to the window he planned to exit through, there are already dark shadows swirling in chaotic patterns at his feet and slithering up his pant legs towards his torso. With a short salute over his shoulder towards Parsithius the darkness surrounding the vampire shoots forward, breaking the glass that stood in Blue's way. Sliding quickly out through the now open window the vampire makes use of the black entities again, solidifying them at his fingertips into vicious looking claws that allow him to dig into the side of the building and ascend to the top. The movement he uses is rather frantic and to an outside onlooker he'd look more like an insect scaling the wall than anything else. Stealthily pulling himself back onto stable ground at his destination the vampire finds a lone guard that wasn't particularly expecting someone to scale the building's wall and was looking the opposite direction. The assassin has little qualms with moving behind the man and rather messily slitting his throat with the very same sharpened claws he used to move up the face of the building.

Bertha stands at higher vigilance than the others. Having appeared in the room of Parsithius she eyed the creature below with evident disdain. A stack of crates creating the perfect plateau to allow her sight of what was before here. She’d heard the alarms and cries of her men. The flares that lit the sky were enough to cause a stir even without war. Captains and heroes of the Empire screaming instructions to those dressed in the armor of Vuryal’s banner. It was her turn to engage in the action. She sure as hell wouldn’t go down without a fight, without a final battle with her men charging before. Determined to hurt these men badly before they either killed her, or she killed them. Having been alerted to some sort of disturbance on the roof, there were several guards being sent up to the hatch that very moment. Ten to be exact. But within the large room was the true test Bertha would provide. Index and middle finger met her lips with a frighteningly shrill whistle following after. Within moments the troops would arrive from the various corridors and doorways within the room. It appeared the General had gathered anyone and everyone she could afford for this effort. The Imperial warriors were dressed in armors and holding the various utensils of wartime. Spears, swords, knives, clubs, and axes. Anything which might have held enough force to endanger the life of another. As the remaining troops moved in, her attention lit now on the Knight and his men. Truly a battle of numbers this wound be. “The Imperial army will not back down for you,” was her command. It appeared to rally the troops, though. Their shuffles forward and gritted teeth signaling what was to follow. Finally, as it appeared the room could no longer hold the amount of troops within, the command to release them was given. A single cry from the lips of Bertha gave way to the violent screams of her men. The wave of armed combatants crashing down upon Parsithius and his own.

Parsithius is swift; there is little time to react or plan the perfect strategy to counter the mighty numbers of Bertha's troops. And, noting only six mercenaries aside from the knight himself, and the vampire, Parsithius wisely is aware that open combat will get them all killed. "High ground!" He shouts distinctly, the male's voice a deep cry of authority and belief rather than some vehement snarl; the mercenaries immediately take their replies in silent vigor of this upcoming battle. Funneled, three soldiers move to one corner of the foyer's room, and three to the other corner, back up stairs and taking a defensive position. In this manner, the General's troops must fight in an enclosed area, uphill, where their numbers will mean nothing. One soldier of either of these small groups draws forth bows -arrows are loosed upon the room, two-by-two, as more and more enemies approach. "On three, move rooms!" They need to get out of the foyer if they want to survive this onslaught.

Bertha’s troops follow. When the mind it set on a goal, it does not waver. A warriors mind doesn’t fall from the faces of battle, nor do the thoughts of Bertha’s troops. Their armors clanging together in a vicious symphony of war as their units moved to follow the fleeing men of Parsithius. Bertha immediately notes the tricks of Parsithius. “You’ll need more cunning than that, fool!” came the bellow of the General as she ascends several more crates in an attempt to increase her own vocals above the sounds of marching, armored men. Another sharp whistle fell, commands were given from various Imperial captains and Bertha shared too in the swift instruction of her troops. While many of them moved forward without heed of the call, another grouping retreated back into the bowels of the barracks. While the Knights men might have had cunning, Bertha’s brigade had knowledge of where they fought. As one mass of men left to cut Parsithius’ troops from changing rooms and moving at a rapid pace, the others continued their drive towards the men. They might have been going upwards, but damned if they weren’t fast. Stepping over the arrow-pierced bodies of their fallen comrades as they made a straight shoot for the retreating rats.

Bertha:: The small wooden thatch leading to the roof had been locked for some time. It was off limits to the troops, and not really needed for anyone else. Yet with a sudden grunt and heave the thatch was burst through by the sheer force of an Imperial head. Armored men began to surface on the roof like some sort of river of bodies. Their armor clanking and weapons drawn as if ready for whatever severe foe stood on the roof to accost them. When sight of the vampire was settled the men simply halted. Instructions had been given to deal with the troops on the roof. Bertha’s words had been so slicing as to indicate something quite damaging was happening up there. Surely she had meant another section, right? As the men stood quietly before the Vampire they eyed one another as if to discern whatever the others thoughts were. With a stoic grunt from one particular man, the others fell in line. Their bodies tensed and weapons drawn upwards and pointed toward Shishi, “It’s more dangerous than it looks. Bury the man.” Came the order from the grunting guard. As the screams of the troops below lit up the atmosphere surrounding them, the roof troops too let out a most guttural of shouts as they charged forward toward Shishi with weapons swinging. Their aim to either knocking him from the roof or cleave him in two.

Shishi folded his arms as he waited and watched the group moving one at a time onto the roof, grinning sadistically at the amount of opponents they've sent up here just for him. Oceanic Eyes tilt upward in the direction of the moon for just a second, noting it's position behind the men just before they begin their charge towards the vampire. Retreat is the only option one should rightfully have against such numbers and that is the choice Blue picks; quickly backtracking with short skips until he's to the edge of the roof, right where these soldiers would want him, supposedly. With one final hop the vampire leaves the roof before the guard's charge reaches him. Clinging to the side of the building in the same manner that he had used to climb up the face of the wall, Shishi is out of view of anyone who doesn't move close enough to the edge to peek over it at his supposed fall, any who do approach the edge however, will prompt Blue to reach up back onto the roof with one hand and grab hold of the man's very shadow projected by the moon. At the vampire's touch the dark silhouette on the ground will wrap around it's owner's ankle like a constricting snake and Shishi will tug backwards, making it look like a rug has been pulled out from under his victim, throwing them over Shishi's head and off the roof... With that accomplished, the vampire will then scurry horizontally along the wall as quietly as he can in an attempt to conceal his position and put the guards into the mentality that they must be ready to defend from all sides...

Bertha:: Suddenly the charge is halted. The odd vampire having performed some sort of eerie pirouette from atop the roof, the guards could do nothing but watch. The sound of armor rushing forward and weapons whipping through the air fell silent as the Imperial soldiers stood in confusion at what exactly had befallen their prey. Surely the men hadn’t taken his own life in the face of the soldiers. For they knew, by change, their front was quite intimidating. But they also knew that men, in the face of great danger, often did not take the cowards way out. For what seemed an eternity the men waited on the rooftop. Their cold breaths causing the landscape to look something of a chimney as warm met cool. Alas, the captain of these men stepped forward to claim his prize, the head of Shishi, “It’s a trick, men! Do not be fooled by this magicians maniacal skill!” With this the man leapt forward toward the edge where he had seen the vampire fall from. In an instant he fell victim to the foul nature of Shishi’s trap. A hand thrust upon his shoulder with such intensity he hadn’t a second to escape the fate found for him. Boots of silver became unleashed from the solidity of roof and over the side of the building he plunged. Down into the darkness of Rynvale. Away from both his men and Shishi alike. The last, battering screams ended with a deadening ‘thump’ of a corpse claiming the bottom. Still on the roof the men screamed. Cries filling the night as they rushed from side to side to see where their leader had gone. Yet all stopped, frozen in place as the thump finally hit their ears. Two men were in motion now, bows drawn fourth from their backs and feet leading them around to the far edges of the building, away from the grasp of Shishi as his shadows. In unison their fired now. One aiming for the mans body, the other for his head. Those atop the roof frantic with anger continued to pace, to search for their captain. Their good, fallen captain.

The mercenaries of Parsithius' troop are rather battle-hardened, so the intimidation of the hellishly swift soldiers that the General commands do not have as much morale impact upon them as literal; they do not despair, despite being forced to fight and move that much faster to overcome this disadvantage. The Outcast Knight, himself, however, silently curses his strategy to waste -for, if they do not move swift enough, they'll be overrun. A cry of pain echoes throughout the foyer, as one of the mercenaries falls in battle, leaving only five left, excluding both Shishi and Parsithius; a wedge between the remaining two groups of three. The archers sling their bows and withdraw their longswords, as the golden-haired human uses the buttspike of his halberd to force open a door along the wall of the balcony, while another knight, on the balcony across, breaks open another door. In this way, the two groups split up into hallways on either side of the foyer's upper floor (compromised of those aforementioned balconies), immediately surveying their high, overarching-ceiling'd, rug-lain, and generally decadent surroundings. Immediately, they fan outward, Parsithius himself barring a door in slaying men by the threes, as the other two in his group move to the other end of the hallway, to stop any from entering the room from that direction. The other three knights, in the hallway across, do the same thing.

Bertha:: The company continues in waves toward the knight and his men. They haven’t the luxury of slowing for thought, of the eager mind of long-fought wars to keep them propelled like that of the other men. But what they lost in history, they made up for in pure hatred. Hatred for whoever wished to do harm to the Imperial nation and its followers. By this point the groups had split into maddening rivers of swinging swords and lashing axes. Agonizing screams reverberate off the walls as the Imperial men drive themselves against the weapons of their opposition. Yet when the knight and his troops close one door, another is always open for the Imperial men. The wave drives to the door unguarded as archers bounce from wall to wall, aiming at the moving party of Parsithius any change they could get. As one small group attempts to infiltrate the barred doors, the others slither in and out of hallways and rush on towards both Parsithius and his men. In the decadent room emerges Bertha, from some way or another, the General has beat the troops to this place. Standing as a statue in victory the boorish female cries commands and general demands to her troops as they swarm to reach the foes. “Let none escape this place, men! Bertha claims it be so!” In the mayhem of war it is noted that bodies have begun to pile. Slain by both the golden-haired knight and his men as they attempt to flee to higher grounds. The fallen soldier of Parsithius is drug from the battle scene by a soldier and thrown from a window. Let the dead rot on the ground where he belongs. In a moment of triumph the barricade blocking Parsithius’ other men is forced down by some five Imperial guards. Their gleeful cries filling the air as they race towards those gathered with swords drawn. The archers continue to fire arrows at the intruding men. Time was of the essence for the Empire.

Shishi held in his joy at the sound of the thud that marked the end of the captain, just barely exposing white fangs in a grin while his mind is assailed by the hundreds of triumphant voices belonging to the shadows in the area that his accursed crimson eyes allowed him to hear. Shishi's short hop off the roof of the building left him clinging to the darkened side out of the light of the moon. Shadows begin flocking to the assassin again as he plans his next move. Little time is afforded to him however as he notices the archers just a split second too late. Releasing his dark claws' grip on the wall the vampire begins to fall, narrowly avoiding the arrow meant for his head which bounces harmlessly off the face of the building. The second arrow seemed destined to connect with the cursed man and implants itself in the upper right side of his back near the shoulder blade. This earns barely a wince from the suddenly plummeting vampire while the darkness that had surrounded him quickly takes shape at his back, forming bat-like wings and connecting themselves to the assassin's body in a rather violent manner, piercing his back as the arrow had just previously done. Blood is allowed to trickle down his back now as a forceful beating of his new dark wings propel the assassin upward and towards the archers. He angles himself so that he'll be able to reach out and touch each of them as he passes them by, which he does. Just a tap of his finger against their armor was all that he'd need so that when he landed back on the rooftop and turned his body towards the remaining soldiers the shadows beneath the archers' plate-mail would come alive and shape themselves into mean things like scorpions and centipedes and such that have only one goal, to bite, and pinch, and sting relentlessly.

Bertha:: The archers raised glad the sounds as an arrow pierced its target perfectly. “He’s hit,” the man responsible claimed as bow was raised above his head in a sense of glory for the time at hand. Again the mood stood, waited, and watched for whatever tricks the vampire would unleash next. For they knew well that a single arrow into the side of an enemy was near not enough to stop him from attacking them once more. Bodied hung low and ready, arms bend and minds taut as again they felt the shadows of Shishi lash down upon them. While it appeared the regular troops were unscathed, the archers were not so lucky. A lull of action began just as the queer male landed back in front of Bertha’s troops. In a sudden explosion of pain the first archer howled, the second not far behind. Each began to shed their armor as if it had been set ablaze from the inside out. Their bows were cast aside and wayward steps eventually sent the first archer to the ground. His plating having been thrown to the ground, yet one would not the burning red flesh of his arms and legs. And there he remained writing in the pain caused by shadowy insects. The other archer, luckily, had cast the armor from his body before too much damage was done. The shifting, assaulting pests were left swarming within the steel as the archer fled back down the thatch from which they had come earlier in the battle. What was once ten soldiers, tall and strong, stood seven. Yet none were perturbed by the writing man in the corner, nor their captain who had been thrown overboard. Their thick figures lowered even more to the ground as swords were drawn toward the smaller vampire. Just before another lunge could be performed, a shrill whistle lofted up from the rooms below them. It was, without a doubt, the call of their General, Bertha. Without hesitation the men abandoned their confrontation with the shadow trickster and retreated back down the thatch to see what had warranted the call from Bertha.

Parsithius, on the contrary to popular idea of selflessly retrieving the fallen bodies of his comrades, has no sympathy for the dead mercenary; the man gave his life, and that is enough to expect. The boorish female's voice immediately attracts the golden-haired knight's attention, eliciting the narrowing of azure eyes in thick contemplation throughout. Across the barracks, in the opposite hall, those three mercenaries continue to fight for their lives. And, as of yet, they are doing just fine. Despite the overwhelming numbers of their opponents, the mercenaries have managed to funnel the Empire's troops into a makeshift labyrinth up the stairs, and through the archway to the hallway, where the armored figures, wielding broadswords, fight valiantly. Body after body of imperial soldier falls, racking up the mounds of corpses to be used morbidly; stacked into makeshift, macabre barriers. In fact, Parsithius' own group, of himself and three mercenaries, manage to completely block the entry of their particularly hallway with aforementioned bodies. So now, two doors remain, one leading into the mess hall, and the other into the armory hold. Unfortunately for that usually-stoic warrior, Bertha managed to swiftly cut them off. A dissolute shout erupts from the human's lips, and his mercenaries follow suite; swinging and stabbing their swords, parrying and blocking, counterstriking and killing their opponents in blood swathes. Meanwhile, Parsithius makes his beeline toward Bertha. Surely, he throws an elbow here, and the buttspike of his halberd there, but only to further his path. Upon reaching the female general, his mighty, mammoth halberd is brought back, and intended to seperate the woman's head from torso. The other group of three mercenaries manage to get out of their hallway, moving into a new corridor and sprinting to the nearest room; opening up the door to the infirmary and ducking inside. Behind them, they bolt the door temporarily. Parsithius himself knows that killing Bertha would not end this battle; Shishi is the key to that. The man requires the vampire to destroy the barracks' signal bell, and cut off reinforcements from the place that they are attacking.

Bertha would be damned to allow the knights mercenaries to flee without so much as a scratch or tear. In a sudden urge of angst the General belts a shout of monolithic proportions. Instantly the violent sounds of glass shattering were heard...in the infirmary. The Knight had led his mercenaries into a trap. Led his men straight into death itself. For the infirmary held two windows on either side, windows which were blown through via a swift kick from Imperial soldiers using the bricks lining the roof as grapples. While the door was bolted from inside, the troops had done the same on the outside. Using the methods of Parsithius and his men to pile the bodies of their fallen fellows outside the locked door to prevent the men from trying to escape. As the soldiers, glass cut and all, barreled into the small room the sounds of terrible agony erupted and filtered into the ears of Bertha. At the scene where Bertha stood is seemed the knight appeared from nowhere. The General wasn’t as the other troops, soft and new to the field of battle, and such the elbow was caught with the palm of her hand and sent off to the side. The weapon of Parsithius’ was lucky enough to graze the females face before landing solidly into the crate behind Bertha. It was a well-taught tactic to be performed when one hadn’t the necessary weapons in hand. And for all purposes...Bertha had nothing. Her hands were the only weapons she currently held and if one were to think on the matter for a moment, perhaps they’d understand the impact of this realization had. In a fit of pure mockery, the General placed a hand atop the golden-headed males cranium and hoisted herself upwards by also using his buried weapon as a lift. With the dexterity of a primate, the General ascended the boxes and crates containing unknown objects. There was safety in height, she knew, with eyes burning down on Parsithius she continued her crazed calling and commands. Archers now in place and taking aim right at the knight. Read, aim, fire.

Shishi stood sneering at the seven men that begun their charge at him again, the vampire's temporary wings of black spreading out behind him in an act to make himself look larger, more threatening, not unlike what one should do when confronted by a grizzly bear, and if the troop that was sent to the roof to confront this vampire were some kind of Great Bear then that would make these seven bright soldiers that remained The Big Dipper. Nevertheless, Earthly constellations aside, when the men turn tail and leave the roof the way they came up Shishi is left looking rather disappointed and it takes all of the willpower he has left in him to subdue the primal urge he has to chase after the guards just yet and to accomplish the task at hand. With nothing more than the screams of a man being devoured by shadows accompanying him on the roof now, the newly winged assassin has no trouble reaching the bell tower and crawling inside it. The difficult task, as one might imagine, it disabling a bell without ringing the thing yourself. For a moment he brainstorms with the monstrous voices sharing space in his head before acting. The clapper is the obvious place to start, he can tell and with a slight narrowing of his faintly glowing crimson eyes and a flick of his wrist in the direction of the bell, bits of darkness break away from his wings and flutter up under and into the bell. It takes some time for the black things to eat through metal and sever the clapper from the bell proper, letting the heavy clanger fall where it will when the job is done, and while Shishi is waiting on this he hops lightly down from the tower and begins moving towards the writhing archer on the ground. There is no hand movement this time, but the remaining shadows that make up the vampire's wings break from his back and wash over the archer like a wave, restraining the man from moving very much at all. Violently, Blue pulls the arrow from his back, three holes now seeping blood from the assassin, and kneels beside the entangled man waving the bloodied arrowhead in front of the man's eyes, "It was you guards who came up here that drew the short straw, eh? Downstairs they're just fighting against men... Up here you found a Monster." That fanged smile makes it's appearance again before the vampire leans forward and violently plunges extended canines into the archer's neck. Time is taken by Shishi to drain the poor guard as much as possible, providing fuel for the vampire's wounds' recovery. It is only after Shishi has had his fill and the shadows by the bell have completed some sort of sabotage to the alarm's supports that would cause the thing to crash to the ground were it hit with something to ring it, although this would probably cause quite a ruckus were it to happen and perhaps isn't the best solution to disabling the alarm, but Blue seems satisfied enough with it as he begins his decent following the guards, he sure has taken his sweet time.

Parsithius' men may have been led into a trap, but not by the order of their commander; rather, by their own volition. Surrounded by all sides, they knew their death-stand when it came knocking upon their doors; they wouldn't fall without a fight. Three lone mercenaries, trained with expert skill and deft swordsmanship, continue to fight like beasts out of hell. In fact, more and more bodies pile -at least half of the ambushing force, if not three-quarters, cut down before finally the trio falls victim, strewn dead within the massacre of the infirmary. Three left, counting Parsithius (Shishi excluded), in the hallway to the west of the foyer. The two remaining mercenaries aside from the golden-haired knight each grit their teeth in some eerie, simultaneous movement, telltale signal to the sudden eruption of fluid fighting. A parry, a thrust, a stab, a slice, a block, a counterattack, and mirrored by the opposite, the two nameless men carry on their dances of death with elegant grace and hellish skill, cutting down imperial after imperial in the macabre, but beautiful tango of murder. 'Sniiickt, snickt, snickt!' is the sound of arrows slicing the arrow, a complete myriad of them; Parsithius, in a mere split-second, has yanked his halberd free of its hold and employs it to twirl about his front, knocking aside a good portion of those projectiles. An arrow sinks into his thigh, and another into his shoulder, growling away the pain through clenched molars. The other two mercenaries, however, were not as lucky. Parsithius alone remains. "Shishi!" The golden-haired knight yells this, still defiant before the archers, among the hundreds of bodies, and azure eyes trained upon Bertha.

Bertha:: The lone soldier on the roof could do nothing to deny the vampire his meal, so to speak. Abandoned by his own, once called ‘fearless’ brothers in battle he took it upon himself to attempt a half-roll toward the thatch where he’d only moments before witnessed the last footfall of his fellow men sink back down into the belly of the beast. It is with neatly glazed eyes the reposed man watches Shishi disassemble the last remaining victor for the Imperial troops, the bell. Yet the soldier can only do so much in his wounded state. Rolling his body slowly toward Shishi as the shadowed insects continue to sting and lash at his now numb flesh his cheek rests against the cold stone of the roof and eyes tackle the vampire as his shadow minions do the bidding of the bell. In a last, primal show of soldier’s mindset the man begins spewing fourth a diatribe of insults toward the vampire, “You little bitch of a man in your fancy clothing. Isn’t it time you return to the tea room? Men fight with swords and spears…but you little woman…you fight as to not get your hands dirty. Not get those little white gloves of yours stained, huh! I’ll be dead soon but at least I know how to fight like a man. Answer me you little piece of shi-“ His own hateful phrase was slain by the pearly teeth forcing their way into his neck. Eyes rolled back and body became limp as the blood was drained through his veins in a feast of the fallen archer. Just as the life faded from the archer he heard the final tolling of the bell. A final rallying cry for those of his own company to push forward. But back within the guts of the barracks was the true fight. Bertha stood atop the crates looking down to Parsithius. From what she had seen, a single blow hadn’t landed upon the man but for a pair of arrows. With more than a thousand men on the ground and Parsithius was left without more than s pair of holes in his hide? She knew the man wasn’t a God, but he sure acted like one. It was a thought which rallied her for one last shot of furor. The archers continued their sharp shooting, her own troops dashing about in chaos, and the Knight standing there below her perch. Catching the eye of a particularly ornate dressed archer she gave him several intricate hand motions behind one of the crates. Almost simultaneously the tolling of the bell penetrates the almost deafening madness, but the troops do not pause at such an ominous cry. On the contrary, these men intensify their actions against the trespassers of the Knights company. Bertha moves fourth with her own conclusion. She knew just as the solid bell shot that it was no more. There would be more no help streaming through the corridors of this place. No more shiny Imperial troops rushing forward like a raging river, each wave intent on drowning all within its vicious path. Planting a heel against the back of the arch behind her, Bertha shoves against a single box appearing to stick out from the others. Filled with various weapons, canon fodder, and an assortment of steel and metallic objects she again thrusts her body against the crate with enough force to finally knock it overbalanced. She knew that the box would obviously be parried by the Knight, she wasn’t so ignorant as to think otherwise, but the real reason for her strain would follow such box. A mass of chains and metallic nets were hooked on to the box by a length of rope. With perfect timing the General aids the mass of metal with a quick kick of toe which sends it down with the crate, but a ways ahead of the falling object. At the same moment the archers draw back in unison to release a volley of flame-tipped arrows courtesy of the various torches which continued to burn in their slots. “Fire!” came the sharp command of the lead archer, the strings loosed with a shrill ‘ping’ as the flaming arrows made their way toward the spotless Knight and his flouncy movements. Pleased with her last attack against the invaders she knew better than to remain in this place. Descending the boxes by uncanny bounds the failed General fled down one of the many corridors in the barracks. As the fled her cries of ‘Fall back!’ were heard throughout the lost place. Those strong enough to follow their General did so, and the rest remained still and lifeless. Their bodies pounded by living brethren as the Empire’s finest fled the scene toward the harbor where several unassuming boats sat huddled by a cove to take them to safety. They had victory in their hold…for now.

Shishi wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, smearing some blood across his cheek rather than cleaning his mouth as he had intended. Tasting emotion in the blood of one's victims was an old vampire wives' tale that Blue never really bought into, but he did enjoy himself pretending, as he opened the hatch back into the building, that he could feel that archer's dying rage. Of course this blood lust that propels him forward is merely a product of the black voices screaming for violence within his head. The assassin knew that any sound or commotion that he could sense below could not have been a good sign as he'd left th Knight with only six men, the makings of what was more fitted to be a stealthy outfit rather than one that engaged in all out war. So when he heard the shouts and sounds of battle his pace quickened, shadows swirling behind him as he moved like water in the wake of a speeding ship. In the confined quarters of a stairwell the assassin was at his most dangerous, darkness shooting out from the ground at his feet in the form of black spears towards those foes he comes across that share his destination or await his descent from the roof. Gaining entrance to the room housing his only ally left in the building with a strong, malice-filled black shockwave that sends bodies, live and slain alike, and debris flying, the vampire only just arrives to witness the rain of fire arrows as they are sent towards Parsithius. After so much time exposed to his family's accursed crimson eyes the vampire is little more than a puppet in the hands of the shadows. Parsithius may end up being thankful for this in the end, as the location of the assassin's entrance has left him within striking distance of the archers and his curse has left him with a one track mind that needs no time for assessing a situation before acting. From out of his back, tearing a hole through shirt and jacket alike, shoots a black tentacle, formed from the shadows cast by clothing on the vampire's own skin, that coils around the nearest archer's waist and swings him high into the air, constricting strongly. In this same moment, Blue himself leaps onto the next archer with the intent to feed again, driving fangs into any flesh he can find. With this the vampire has at least saved the Knight the trouble of worrying about at least two flaming arrows, perhaps more if the gruesome show Blue put on affects any of the other ranged attacks' accuracy...

Parsithius is swift, even with the injury of arrows lodged in both his arm and thigh, enough to react appropriately to the crate; using his halberd to smash into and completely obliterate the object with a shower of wooden shards. Bertha's words were ignored, and quite evidently so with the narrowing of azure eyes, to the point of utter and complete tastelessness; the man never spoke insults in war. With his halberd down, however, the brunt of the arrows take their toll; riddling his body, except for a duo that thankfully are avoided -due to Shishi! "Shishi!" The man yells, just as the last remaining archer can flee, leaving the two men in the midst of hundreds of Imperial bodies. Literally hundreds. "Good work."