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Fun fun~! o: wc:572
Laughter. Eerie laughter hanging in the humid air. The Marino’s hackles raised in anticipation, muscles tense and alert. They were in the thick of things now. No turning back. Not that the Italian male had the intention or desire to turn and run. No, the Marino was here to protect his family, to achieve justice and put an end to these weeks of bloodshed and hostage warfare. And the only way left for them to achieve that was with more violence. The normally peaceful Marino had done his best to prepare for his moment, spending time trying to hone his combat skills and learn the proper use of the spear he’d needed to create. Despite all his preparations, he still feared that he could be easily outmatched by trained warriors. But he had to put that fear aside. He would not rest until his niece and nephew were free and Maska and his followers were no longer a threat.
Amber eyes searched their surroundings, trying to pinpoint where the laughter had come from. “They’re close,” he muttered to the snowy woman, tossing her the briefest of glances. They had circled around through the village, making their way past one of the houses. Their group had seemed to split up slightly, and the Marino found himself following one pathway between buildings with Deuce. It was difficult to distinguish scents in the thick of the village, but there had to be enemies nearby. That damned laughter said as much. He crept forward slowly, all senses on high alert.
And then it began.
All at once the area erupted into a sea of noise, metallic ringing and a shouted war cry causing Ehno to drop to a defensive crouch. He gripped the spear tightly, holding it before him as amber eyes frantically searched for their attackers. Movement on one of the rooftops drew his attention, eyes widening as he sighted the longbow held in the AniWayan’s hands. The arrow was loosed and Ehno swung aside to dodge, watching as the arrow missed its target and embedded itself into the building instead.
It had been a mistake. His attention diverted to the archer, he had little time to react as the swordsman who dropped down from her perch came after him. He tried to whirl around and bring his spear forward to block, but her sword made contact while he was in mid-turn. The blade struck along the back of his right arm, a long and relatively shallow cut terminating at the elbow. A pained hiss made way for a threatening growl as he turned to face his attacker. But the AniWayan had already set her sights on Deuce. He made a quick, stumbling thrust at the enemy with his spear, his freshly wounded arm doing nothing to aid him in his attack.
Then he stepped back, surveying the situation, mind racing. Would he need to aid Deuce in the attack of this woman, or go after the archer? He let out a short, snarling call to alert the rest of their party to their presence. They would be easy to find with the sounds of combat and scent of his blood already teasing the air. His gaze then drifted back up above. He couldn’t stay still; from her rooftop perch, the archer readied another arrow to be fired with practiced ease. He would have to figure out how to get her down from that rooftop.