[M] - those who live are those who fight

[Hezekiah Finch]

*is finally digested from the bowels of four papers and a couple hundred pages of reading in the last week* And just to make it clear because I'm really a horrible fighter -- he's after Vitium, trying to bite whatever leg is opposite of the hand that's holding the stick-bat-thing, rofl. ;_;
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As his call faded away into the cold air, others rose up. Hezekiah didn’t move in until he had seen the others come in, closing the gap between border and intruder with startling results. There was the fellow on the horse, who Hezekiah made sure to give a wide berth as not to get stepped on in the chaos. The creatures who came to his aid were ones that he didn’t really know (or recognise) and despite being out of familiarity with them, he took the proper time to assess what they did as not to impede their attack. There were now four of them against the three and Hezekiah felt that there were bound to more to arrive in the minutes that would pass — these were, after all, the ones who had been closest.



He charged in when the time seemed right, following in a dark-haired female as she charged one of the optime wolves. Hezekiah could not see his face clearly for the hood, but his attention was diverted crisply towards the dark hybrid with the stick of wood from the corner of his eye. It was something like slow motion for just the briefest of seconds as he appraised him, watching the muscles in his arm grow taut as he pulled the makeshift weapon back to strike. There wouldn’t be enough time to cross over him to grab that arm, so he would simply have to make do with what he could: Hezekiah dove through the fray to strike for the thigh opposite his weapon-wielding hand.

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