Topic: The Corruption Hidden Beneath the Surface... Subject:
Only the battle-trained have an eye for the whole of the field.
"To lead from the front is to generate the love of your troops," Captain Ollifpher's words echo in the warrior-priest's mind. "To lead from the back wins you a near god-like view of the battlefield. You have to decide which will win you the day."
In the heart of the Temple of Death, Garn had easily shrugged off Gib's command to hold and the cleric of Therassor can only blame his own weakness in faith. He doesn't have much time to contemplate that situation, however, as he carries out his original plan and lines up his crossbow sights with his hated enemy.
The shot is tricky. Aranwen, in her golden beauty, is dancing in and out of his line bringing and end to one foe after another as she moves closer to the target. He has to time it perfectly... to press the lever too early will lead to disaster. To press it too late... Therassor, Righteous Commander, guide my hand. With a click and a jerk, the bolt is released. Already swinging the crossbow to his back, his heart leaps into his throat as the bladesinger begins to shift into the path of the missile. Despite his doubt, Gib's prayer is answered and the Sylvari's hair is trimmed by the passing bolt. Shield slipping along his arm, the cleric watches with satisfaction as his shot impales the wicked priestess in the shoulder.
And then they are upon him, smashing into his shield as he snatches his sword from between his knees. Grunting with the impact, Moreno finds himself in the thick of melee while he presses forward to provide his Kazari friend with assistance. Cutting a cultist down, Gib's wide moss-colored eyes seek his target, noting that Ch'dau is taking a beating while giving the same to Garn. Drawing in a sharp breath, the sweat and blood covered warrior-priest continues his slow progress forward only to be met by a new wave of the enemy. Struggling against the press, Moreno is surrounded, but then aid from servants of the death god swell. Blocking a slash against the face of his shield, he turns aside a thrust just as another cultist's blade pierces his lower right abdomen sending fiery white heat lancing through his chest and into his hip. A large cultist forces himself to Gib's side, and the two of them lay about fiercely, keeping Davena's minions at bay, even driving them back.
Free of the smothering enemy rush, Moreno uses his shield to push a zombie aside and take the knee of a cultist out with a long cut of his blade. Frantically seeking his companions, he witnesses Davena attempt to slash Aranwen's throat only to be bowled over by Ch'dau and his breath catches painfully in his lungs. There's no time to cry out, not that it would do any good. Anger and grief fueling his adrenaline, the priest lunges forward into two cultists. Using his shield as a wall, he drives the first into the second momentarily entangling their limbs. Using the shield as a fulcrum he rolls to the left, bringing his blade around in a wide three-hundred and sixty-degree swing that ends by decapitating the second cultist and severing the spine of the first. Carrying through with the momentum, Gib runs towards his fallen friend, leaving the two cultists' bodies to fall behind him, a fresh spray of arterial blood providing the right side of his face with crimson war paint.
A screaming male in black robes rushes Gib from the front—Kith is moving to give the Kazari aid—Moreno drops low, catching the cultist on his shield and driving his blade through the man's gut as he allows the forward motion of the enemy to help him carrying his dying body over the top of him, rolling him from his shield and extracting his longsword in the process. Cedric is close to Aranwen, Ch'dau, and Kith—Kith, who is now driving her blade into Ch'dau's stomach, not Davena!
An enraged and confused bellow erupts from the warrior-priest's throat, raw and throaty. Desperate to reach his wounded companions, his training kicks in. Cedric is in a better position to provide Aranwen and Ch'dau with aid. If I can kill Davena, Kith can be freed of the magic controlling her. Instinctively, Gib knows that he cannot muster the strength to call upon Therassor for another hold. He has one chance. He must reach Davena and kill her.
When he entered this battle, Moreno Enderedre had resigned himself to death, even singing the Funeral Dirge of Therassor. Now, victory requires him to live long enough to end the life of his rival, what victory may still be grasped from this carnage. His press turns into a calculated run; survey the remaining field, choose a path of least resistance, and MOVE!
"Cedric!" he yells. "See to Aranwen and Ch'dau!"
Kithran is speaking to Davena, helping her rise, a smirk on her face. "Kithran!" he calls raggedly to his friend as he continues his charge. "Kill her! Kill Davena and you'll be free!"
(OOC: OK... so, there's three possibilities here as I see it, so I'm writing three possible "nexts".)
(OOC: If Gib makes it to Kith and Davena without dying...)
Rushing in on the pair, Moreno positions himself so that Kith is shield-side. (OOC: if Kithran hasn't responded positively to his call...) Not wishing to do more than remove his friend from the equation, the warrior-priest attempts to knock her aside with his warworn shield while driving his blade through Davena's chest.
(OOC: If Gib is blocked from reaching them but still alive...)
"They are escaping!" Moreno calls out, hoping to draw the aid of their benefactor, Garrack and perhaps gain more time to free Kithran from Davena's hold. (OOC: If possible without drawing additional attacks, he'll also cast Command on Kith.)
Then, to Kithran, Gib calls upon the divine power of Therassor to compel her, "Stop! In the name of Therassor the Battle Lord!"
(OOC: If Gib reaches Kith and Davena but Kith won't give him the opening he needs and a shield bash won't remove her from the equation...)
His original plan to deal as little damage to the little scout as possible removed from him by her strategic maneuvering, Gib draws up with his shield in front of him, narrowed, calculating eyes barely above the upper rim, sword held back ready to thrust. "This isn't you, Kithran," he states in desperation. "You've killed your friends. Ch'dau, Aranwen... we've been languishing in the prisons of this one—" he tilts his helmeted head towards Davena, "—this past while, seeking every opportunity to free ourselves and come to your aid. Now, I need yours.
"Therassor has given you the opportunity. Take it, Little Sister. Send her to her maker!"
Posted on 2019-12-05 at 08:20:36.
Edited on 2019-12-05 at 08:47:28 by Bromern Sal
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