[A familiar path has been born like this before when he'd barely become a man, his good friend Francel stolen away for ransom. Bandits are certainly less organized than this, but at the time it was all that he could do to throw himself into the situation, following his quarry and ensuring the safety of someone dear to him.
The enemies may be different, but the path is familiar to him.
A priest spots Haurchefant, then makes to turn and run, likely to warn his brothers and sisters. Without pause, he throws his sword as if it were an axe; the balance is different, but it still strikes true, the blade sinking into the man's back. He approaches calmly, taking his sword before stabbing down again, just to make sure the priest doesn't come back up. There is no coldness in his actions. Quite the contrary -- inside of him is a burning flame, controlled and fierce as he marches on.
There are, of course, guards in his way, but if the Warrior of Light and their comrades can manage, then certainly he can. He sees them, and they see him. Immediately, he steels himself, charging in with his shield up, battering one against the door before whirling around to block an incoming sword.
Down with you! the guard snarls at him.
Haurchefant doesn't offer a response. Instead, he shoves the other knight back before sinking his blade true into his throat. He doesn't have quite the time to retrieve it from flesh, turning in time to see the second the guard recovering enough to attack. His shield goes up just in time, the clanging of metal echoing in the hall.
Enough of this, he thinks, not wanting to spend more time than necessary here. He shoves hard, slamming the guard again with enough force to cause the door to swing open. Immediately, he pins the guard down, proceeding to beat him with his shield until he stops moving. It isn't proud or clean, but it's done.
Then he looks up, seeing Aymeric hanging there in chains, waiting for judgment. That fire inside of him dims just enough as he rises to his feet.]
Aymeric. [His voice is soft, despite all appearances of battle. No titles, just a careful, sweet tone as he reaches out, gently touching his shoulder.] You're safe. I'll have you down soon.
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The enemies may be different, but the path is familiar to him.
A priest spots Haurchefant, then makes to turn and run, likely to warn his brothers and sisters. Without pause, he throws his sword as if it were an axe; the balance is different, but it still strikes true, the blade sinking into the man's back. He approaches calmly, taking his sword before stabbing down again, just to make sure the priest doesn't come back up. There is no coldness in his actions. Quite the contrary -- inside of him is a burning flame, controlled and fierce as he marches on.
There are, of course, guards in his way, but if the Warrior of Light and their comrades can manage, then certainly he can. He sees them, and they see him. Immediately, he steels himself, charging in with his shield up, battering one against the door before whirling around to block an incoming sword.
Down with you! the guard snarls at him.
Haurchefant doesn't offer a response. Instead, he shoves the other knight back before sinking his blade true into his throat. He doesn't have quite the time to retrieve it from flesh, turning in time to see the second the guard recovering enough to attack. His shield goes up just in time, the clanging of metal echoing in the hall.
Enough of this, he thinks, not wanting to spend more time than necessary here. He shoves hard, slamming the guard again with enough force to cause the door to swing open. Immediately, he pins the guard down, proceeding to beat him with his shield until he stops moving. It isn't proud or clean, but it's done.
Then he looks up, seeing Aymeric hanging there in chains, waiting for judgment. That fire inside of him dims just enough as he rises to his feet.]
Aymeric. [His voice is soft, despite all appearances of battle. No titles, just a careful, sweet tone as he reaches out, gently touching his shoulder.] You're safe. I'll have you down soon.