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I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
There’s a special sort of madness in group fighting; whether it be two-on-two or army-vs-army, the number of incredibly random events, the danger of friendly fire or even better yet, sudden death, increase exponentially with the number of combatants. Teamwork is easier when one works from afar, hurling magic at a target - literally bombarding one’s opponent with assault after assault - than having to dodge hooves and claws and horns and teeth. Wessex’s vision tends to narrow in the moment, seeing only target and bullseye, the sphere of her attention relegated to peripheral vision and what she can naturally sense with her body. Sometimes it seems as if they are all moving in slow motion, so great is the sensory input.
The bear, in all his pain and fury, sets to swiping hither and thither with his great, clawed paws. His bellow is enough to make her realize they’re in for it, followed quickly by Beloved’s howls (Erebos’s pain is drowned out by all the chaos and cries of retribution from both sides). Her forceful thud against the brown mass does not go unnoticed, and white hot lines write themselves across her withers in the moments after impact. Wessex bellows - a scream holding notes of fury and revenge and agony, as a hot trail of blood slides down to her elbows and underbelly. Fast and furious it comes - but hey, it’s just a flesh wound. Wessex moves out of reach as quickly as she can, reassessing the situation.
She is lucky enough to escape the bear’s jaws, as all three of her fellow soldiers renew their attacks. Weaver flies - Beloved and Erebos stab - and again, Wessex tries to use her height and weight to her advantage, rushing in, hooves aimed to the bear’s head for a deadly strike - hard and heavy against the base of his skull. Even if she misses, her attack may shove the beast towards Erebos’s outstretched horn - or perhaps the opposite will happen, the General forcing their target into the Spanish Norman’s large, waiting, hooves.
Either way, things don’t bode well for the unlucky bear - whose only misfortune was to pick the wrong type of prey for dinner.
W E S S E X
@Erebos
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --
