It was all a flurry of impacts and retaliations, arrows thunking against boards and armor, spears slamming into torsos and haunches, Genthus's axe moderating it all in a most uncivil debate. As the riders bore down, he would sidestep horses, swing upwards at riders, grunt as he deflected blows, holler as he missed some and they tried to tear at his own skin. All of it by flickering camplight, blood across his eyes, dirt across his face, all of it too hard to track-
And then, bright, blinding light, the sun summoned at once to illuminate a grisly theatre. Genthus hissed, covering his eyes with an arm as they adjusted. A horse behind him bucked at the sudden sight, throwing its rider to the ground. He shouted as another duo ran over him, hooves barely missing his body.
He was not so lucky as a spear jammed downward, released in a huff as Genthus blocked another swing from the would-be stomper. As he trotted past, the return swing fell short, making Genthus huff in growing frustration. "Flitty fuckers. Karvil!" When no answer came, the juggernaut would turn on a heel, eyes scanning. "Karvil, why have you stopped-"
The dwarf was unable to answer, squirming on his back, an arrow in his center, a mortal shout restrained at his lips as he clutched the wooden shaft and resisted all urge to yank it out. Shouting for him, Genthus would juke another oncoming horse to shuffle over, grabbing the dwarf by his chainmail and dragging him. Even despite the man's pained shouts, Genthus wouldn't stop until he was squarely behind the upturned wagon, at least protected from risk of trampling.
When Karvil just spat at him, saliva a little red, and pointed at the spears, the dwarf only mustered a raspy, "Stop your bitchin' and leave." He might as well have spoken Orlesian for how it processed, Genthus grabbing the arrow shaft and snapping it at the wound, hefting the dwarf with an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, I said leave!"
"Fine!" Genthus's reply was curt, furious, and loud, nostrils flaring as he took off, axe out in his free hand. Sprinting for the camp's new central pillar, he would swing at every unknown man he came across, smashing his body up against the sides of horses, taking cuts to his arms to trade for battering retorts of brute force. Charging and bleeding, he would come bursting through a trio of dismounted riders as he approached the camp's center, a line forming around the pillar as their makeshift defense, the riders unable to charge through for fear of crashing. Even as Karvil yelled in surprise and sputtered, Genthus wouldn't release him, running across the line, looking for a face in particular.
"Esme!" Nearly to her, movement just past her spot would draw his eye. A rider more heavily armed than the rest, tattered metal armor jingling as he swooped low off the side of his horse, slashing across the back of some caravan elf trying to heft a shield. As the elf fell, the figure's harsh voice could be heard above the din, exhaustion apparent by the tone. "C'mon lads, we're half done!"
Literally dropping Karvil as he ran past, Genthus would restore both hands to his axe and lower his posture, head low, horns presented, axe extended to the side and angled upward. As the armored figure reeled to see him coming, a woman at his flank would run to get between them, a blocking shield failing to hold up to the force, the blade burying so far into her shoulder that Genthus's blood-slick hands would let the heft slip free, stumbling in his charge as he was disarmed.
In a heavy-footed recovery, he would keep going, roaring as he leapt off his feet headfirst, arms forward. He would slam into the figure with the impact of an enraged, 300 pound qunari, tackling him off of his steed into the mud below, just before the pillar's defense line.
And then, bright, blinding light, the sun summoned at once to illuminate a grisly theatre. Genthus hissed, covering his eyes with an arm as they adjusted. A horse behind him bucked at the sudden sight, throwing its rider to the ground. He shouted as another duo ran over him, hooves barely missing his body.
He was not so lucky as a spear jammed downward, released in a huff as Genthus blocked another swing from the would-be stomper. As he trotted past, the return swing fell short, making Genthus huff in growing frustration. "Flitty fuckers. Karvil!" When no answer came, the juggernaut would turn on a heel, eyes scanning. "Karvil, why have you stopped-"
The dwarf was unable to answer, squirming on his back, an arrow in his center, a mortal shout restrained at his lips as he clutched the wooden shaft and resisted all urge to yank it out. Shouting for him, Genthus would juke another oncoming horse to shuffle over, grabbing the dwarf by his chainmail and dragging him. Even despite the man's pained shouts, Genthus wouldn't stop until he was squarely behind the upturned wagon, at least protected from risk of trampling.
When Karvil just spat at him, saliva a little red, and pointed at the spears, the dwarf only mustered a raspy, "Stop your bitchin' and leave." He might as well have spoken Orlesian for how it processed, Genthus grabbing the arrow shaft and snapping it at the wound, hefting the dwarf with an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, I said leave!"
"Fine!" Genthus's reply was curt, furious, and loud, nostrils flaring as he took off, axe out in his free hand. Sprinting for the camp's new central pillar, he would swing at every unknown man he came across, smashing his body up against the sides of horses, taking cuts to his arms to trade for battering retorts of brute force. Charging and bleeding, he would come bursting through a trio of dismounted riders as he approached the camp's center, a line forming around the pillar as their makeshift defense, the riders unable to charge through for fear of crashing. Even as Karvil yelled in surprise and sputtered, Genthus wouldn't release him, running across the line, looking for a face in particular.
"Esme!" Nearly to her, movement just past her spot would draw his eye. A rider more heavily armed than the rest, tattered metal armor jingling as he swooped low off the side of his horse, slashing across the back of some caravan elf trying to heft a shield. As the elf fell, the figure's harsh voice could be heard above the din, exhaustion apparent by the tone. "C'mon lads, we're half done!"
Literally dropping Karvil as he ran past, Genthus would restore both hands to his axe and lower his posture, head low, horns presented, axe extended to the side and angled upward. As the armored figure reeled to see him coming, a woman at his flank would run to get between them, a blocking shield failing to hold up to the force, the blade burying so far into her shoulder that Genthus's blood-slick hands would let the heft slip free, stumbling in his charge as he was disarmed.
In a heavy-footed recovery, he would keep going, roaring as he leapt off his feet headfirst, arms forward. He would slam into the figure with the impact of an enraged, 300 pound qunari, tackling him off of his steed into the mud below, just before the pillar's defense line.
04-30-2024, 09:32 PM
