Peony Min (blackmagicks) wrote in emillion, |
Cressida couldn’t tell what was more disconcerting-- that there was blood coursing down her leg from the wound in her side, or that she didn’t know how deep it went. Deeper than she could ever remembering a wound being as she stumbled back to her feet, feeling lightheaded. There hadn’t been enough time to cast Protect on herself, but with her bow in one hand, she cast it on Rivalen, who stood not far from her in a similar state of injury. She reached back for an arrow, her arm shaking. They had approached the Dreadguard with confidence, but it was wiping the ground with them, as the saying went. Warm blood dripped down to her knee, and she grit her teeth, trying to notch the arrow with unsteady fingers. Oh, Faram was right. He was going to get maimed here (because he refused to think that he would end up dead here, he simply refused). “The fuck.” Rivalen cursed and spat blood from a split lip. Cressida’s Protect awarded him a measure of advantage against the Dreadguard, but it was making easy work of parrying his attacks despite the added weight he put behind each blow. At this distance he was taking the brunt of frontal attacks, but his armour seemed to be doing a better job than Cressida’s own. The girl better not die on him, how would he explain that to people? Oops? Excuses for the dead were so much wasted work. Despite Rivalen’s calling for attention, the monster seemed keen on going after the Ranger, perhaps sensing her weakened state as giving it the upper hand. He swivelled and dug his sword down on the knee-joint but rather than slowing it down, the Dreadguard let out a frustrated sound and swatted the Samurai back. But then, just as the creature seemed bent on charging forward again towards the injured archer, the ground beneath it began to shake, emitting a deep rumble. The Dreadguard’s cry of frustration became one of pain; in the powerful localized quake, it was buffeted about, one clawed leg slipping into a newly formed chasm in the ground. When at last the earth stilled, the creature stood, but stiffly, one wing bent at an unnatural angle. Behind the duo of fighters, Peony prepared another spell. When a thing wore feathers, more often than not Earth was its downfall, and fortunately, it was one of her strengths. She had lost the people she had ventured out with earlier; a fall (walking on air was not as easy as she wished) had separated them. But fortunately, it seemed she was exactly where she needed to be; She recognized the archer and made note of her injured state. She had several potions in her bag, but it was too dangerous to take the time right now. “Attack from a distance if you can,” she called out to the others, but did not approach. Her balance was better, but the further away she stayed from the creature and and its talons the better for them all in the end. And besides, with another quickly uttered chant and a lifting of the rod she carried, the earth began to shake once again. |