If there was one thing Killian Glae liked to be, it was prepared. He had thought he was prepared, but he had never fought harpies before, and as one of the flying creatures lifted him into the air, he had to admit that he had been caught completely off-guard by them. The harpy's talons pinned his right arm to his side, and the gusting wind as it's wings beat above him made it difficult to lift his sword to strike at it. 

He glanced down at the rapidly distancing coast, and then the harpy was flying north, and Killian could do nothing to escape. He tried to wrench his right arm free, but gave up when it didn't even budge. This was really bad. He tried vainly to strike with his sword, but the moment he lifted it, the flat of his blade caught the rushing wind. A curse flew out of his mouth as his sword was ripped from his grip and went spinning to the earth, a long way down. The harpy continued flying, and Killian began wondering what it planned to do with him. If it wanted to kill him, it could have dropped him already. 

Killian took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to calm his racing thoughts. He wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything until the harpy landed. And Killian prayed that the harpy planned on landing with him still in it's grasp.

Far below, as the harpy continued it's flight north, Killian's sword landed, blade piercing into the soft earth. It stood there, quivering from the impact, until a silver-haired Elf reached out and gripped the hilt, stopping the reverberations dead.

There was not much that could surprise Cyran anymore, given all he’d seen in his few centuries of life. Even his years spent on the road since his turbulent exile had prepared him to expect the most absurd from the mundane- a sword flying through the air and striking the sand in front of him during the middle of a walk along the coastline of Crescent Isles, though, still managed to come as a bit of a shock.

He approached the blade as it reverberated from the force of the landing, wrapping his hand around the hilt to stop it from vibrating.

Curious. A sword, but no swordsman to accompany it…

At least, none that he could see. Cyran delicately pried the sword from the sand, glancing upwards in an attempt to find the origin of the blade. It was fortunate he did, or he might have missed the slowly retreating figure in the sky, what looked like a winged creature, clutching a person in its talons.

A harpy? Cyran was aware that the Crescent Isles had an infestation of them, and had even fought some himself on its waters, but he hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad that they were snatching people straight from its beaches.

The assassin didn’t hesitate before calling forth a pair of dark, spectral wings from his back.^[1] The sword, which he surmised must have belonged to the figure currently dragged away by the harpy, was clutched in his hand as he took off from the ground, too far away to completely catch up but fast enough that he could follow behind, ready to follow this creature wherever it was taking that stranger and save them from the wicked winged beasts.

---

1. Bat Wings

Killian twisted his head, trying to get a look at where the harpy was taking him. It was flying in the direction of a small copse of trees, the center of which was a dark and tangled affair of branches. 'It's lair?' he thought. Killian almost laughed. What was it going to do, eat him?
 
After a moments consideration, Killian came to the grim conclusion that eating him was actually the most likely thing the harpy was going to do.

As the harpy started to glide in lower towards the trees ahead, Killian glanced down, judging the distance. No, still too high to survive a drop like that, even if he could break free. He twisted as much as he could, craning his neck to get a view of what was around him. That was when he saw it. A... figure, trailing after the harpy. From this distance, Killian couldn't make out much more than the wings on it's back, but it was definitely humanoid. With any luck, it would also be friendly. 

'Hell, I would even take an enemy at this point.' 

As the harpy neared it's presumed lair, Killian was suddenly jolted hard as something careened into them. Another harpy had flown directly into the path of Killian's captor, and was attempting to snatch Killian away. Its talons caught onto his free arm, and suddenly the two harpies were fighting over him, each pulling at him, stretching him... Killian felt his sword arm dislocate, and his back muscles screamed as he was yanked back and forth over the empty air below...

The harpy looked like it was taking its unsuspecting victim to a small, thickly wooded area- their nest? Cyran had fought harpies before, and knew that the avian creatures tended to hunt and bring their prey to a lair, but he’d never seen one up close before. He tried to get a better look at the area, but he was quickly distracted by another harpy slamming into the one he’d been chasing after.

Were they fighting over the kill? Cyran knew harpies were vicious, but not enough so that they would attack their own nestmates. He could figure out why they were acting this way later- right now, his attention was focused on saving the man who’d been caught in the middle, one arm each clutched in a harpy’s talon like a piece of rope in a game of tug of war.

Cyran quickly pulled out Spell Slicer and Cold Steel, twisting the enchanted daggers around in his hands as he flew upwards, maneuvering around the harpies. They were so distracted with their squabble that they didn’t even notice the assassin dropping down on one from behind, driving Spell Slicer straight into the vulnerable spot of its back with the expert precision of a surgeon and Cold Steel into its wing.^[1,2,3]

The harpy screeched and immediately released its grip on the stranger, already dead as it pummeled towards the ground. Cyran raised his daggers above his face to defend himself, swiping defensively at the harpy’s free talon that attempted to snag at him.

“Get back!”

Fortunately for him, the harpy realized that its easy meal wasn’t going to be so easy after all, and let go of the stranger in favor of retreating for its nest. Unfortunately, that left Cyran to attempt to grab the stranger before he hit the ground- he dove down, wrapping his arms around the stranger’s torso. He wasn’t used to holding people while he flew, though, so their descent to the ground was awkward and a little bit faster than it could have been, and they were rapidly approaching the ground.

---

1. Back Stab
2. Magic Blocker Enchantment
3. Ice Rune

Killian wasn't used to being hugged, and certainly not while he had a dislocated arm and was plummeting to his death. Yet in this instance, he could forgive the trespass on his person as the mysterious stranger wrapped his arms around Killian and attempted to stop his free-fall.

It sort of worked.

They slammed into several branches on their descent, and luckily this slowed them down enough so that when they hit the ground, nothing broke. The impact caused the stranger's grip on him to fail, and Killian went rolling across the ground, picking up leaves in his hair and scrapes on his face. When he finally came to a stop, clutching at his popped shoulder, he breathed out a mighty release of breath, and accompanied it with a curse. But there was no time to rest; He had no idea the intentions of this bat-winged stranger. He stumbled to his feet, noting that the other man had Killian's sword on him. Killian snarled, grabbed his own wrist, and wrenched his arm, popping the shoulder back in place. 

Killian rolled the sore shoulder, grimacing. He nodded to the stranger. First things first. "Thanks." That should cover pleasantries. Now, "My sword."

Killian held out his arm, expectantly.

Their hasty crash-landing was every bit as rough as Cyran expected. He was built for speed and precision, not strength, and that fact was woefully apparent as they crashed to the ground and Cyran immediately lost his grip on the stranger. They were both sent sprawling from the impact, injured, though not as badly as they could have been in a free fall. Cyran, thankfully, managed to land somewhat on his feet and tuck into a roll rather than landing flat on his back.^[1] The stranger, unfortunately, was not so lucky. He tumbled a little ways away before finally managing to pull himself up and pop his shoulder into place as if this were an everyday occurrence.

He gave Cyran a curt thanks before holding his hand out, waiting for the weapon that Cyran currently had tucked away on his belt for safekeeping. Cyran blinked, tilting his head to the side like a cat while he considered the man’s gruff attitude. It did not particularly offend him. His spectral wings fluttered behind him another moment before tucking into his back and disappearing.

“Here.” He offered the sword to the stranger, careful to hand him the hilt rather than the blade. “Are you okay?” The stranger looked fine, aside from a couple of scratches from the fall- given that he’d nearly been turned into a harpy’s snack, Cyran thought he was faring decently well. That was fortunate, considering Cyran’s talents didn’t exactly lend to patching up wounds.

“I saw it fall and spotted the harpy dragging you away.” He explained before holding his hand out to shake- though he would not appear offended if the stranger did not take it. “My name is Cyran, by the way.”

As usual, he offered no family name.

He wasn’t sure what else to say- they were currently stuck near some harpy’s nest far away from where the stranger had been taken from, and far from anywhere that Cyran recognized. He was not familiar with the Crescent Isles, despite the fact his travels had taken him here numerous times. Not to mention that they stood right at the foot of the harpy’s nest…

Cyran grimaced as he remembered his previous encounter with the beasts. He usually tried to keep to himself and avoid encounters such as this, but he’d already gone and gotten himself involved. Someone had to take care of the infestation, after all.

Cyran rested a hand on the dagger resting in his belt- it was the only one he kept visible. Magic Blocker and Spell Slicer had vanished, back to wherever Cyran kept them hidden while they weren’t in use. “I suppose someone should take care of the harpies…” Cyran turned to the stranger, assessing him. He certainly looked the part of a fighter- nearly the exact same height as Cyran, though with considerably more muscle, and a stern expression that didn’t look like it tolerated nonsense. Would he help, or would he want nothing to do with this affair?

Cyran watched him carefully for a moment, curious to see what he would do.

---

1. Cat’s Grace

Cyran didn’t seem like an immediate threat, especially as he handed Killian back his sword. When the Elf extended his hand, Killian hesitated only a moment before reaching out and grasping it in a firm handshake. “Killian Glae.” He responded, and prayed that Cyran hadn’t heard of the Sworddancer, or at least didn’t know the name behind the title. It had been happening more often lately, people recognizing Killian’s name, and it aggrieved him to no end.

He glanced upwards in the direction of the harpy’s nest, though from where they currently stood, trees blocked any sight of it. As he wondered what to do next, Cyran not-so-subtly mentioned taking care of the harpies. Killian glanced at Cyran, and the two men held each other’s gaze.

Finally Killian nodded. “I intend to finish what I started. I came here to kill harpies, and I won’t leave until I have. However…” and here Killian took a breath, then released it slowly, as if what he was about to say was unpleasant. “I… may… need some help with that.”

Killian didn’t often work with other people; it ran opposite to his nature. He preferred to be alone, a habit picked up from his years isolated in the Seven. Yet he was no fool, and he knew he couldn’t handle these harpies by himself.

He looked around, spotted a fallen tree that could be used as a bench, and walked stiffly over to it, taking a seat and stretching his sore back. He glanced at Cyran. The other man was clearly capable; he had killed a harpy already and saved Killian. But still… Killian didn’t like entering a battle without knowing all the pieces in play.

“So, what can you do? In a fight, I mean. What can I rely on you to do if need be?” he put a hand on the hilt of his own weapon. “I personally just swing this sword around.”

Killian Glae.

The name seemed familiar somehow. Cyran couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before, though it gave him pause. In his line of work, if a name stood out to him, it meant he was dealing with someone he ought to watch out for. But Killian seemed honest enough, if the stern look on his face and the way he shook Cyran’s hand were anything to go by. He was the stern, honest stock.

That belief was only further cemented as Killian explained that he had come here with the intention of hunting down the very harpies that had snatched him away. Cyran couldn’t help but be surprised at his straightforward nature, if not a bit amused at his reluctance to ask for help, as if the admission were like pulling teeth.

“I’d be happy to lend my assistance.” He offered as Killian took a seat on a nearby tree branch, sizing Cyran up as if deciding whether Cyran was someone worth working with or not. He understood where the sentiment came from. He preferred to know the skills of who he was working with before going into battle, too.

“Some of the most powerful men I’ve met simply swing swords around.” Cyran replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he thought about Gerhart, the fighter whom he’d fought side by side with several times before, who was ferocious in battle with steel alone. “I prefer daggers, personally. My skills generally lend to sticking to the shadows and supporting from behind.” He said eventually as he pulled out his daggers from his belt, preparing himself for this song and dance once more. This was how these kinds of things usually went- he met an honest person, the kind that walked in the light, and was painfully reminded of his own place in the darkness cast by these figures. Killian, for all his sharpness, was clearly the honorable sort, and was used to helping people.

That kind of feeling was foreign to Cyran. He enjoyed it when he got to help others, but those instances were fleeting and few and far in between his usual line of work. He’d take the opportunity to use his skills for good where he could- in this case, clearing out the harpy’s nest and stopping this infestation from spreading.

It was a nice change of pace.

“Do you need a moment to catch your breath?” He asked, concerned. It was obvious Killian could take care of himself, but Cyran felt the need to ask nonetheless. He was more than ready to delve deeper into the nest now, but Killian was the one who’d been abducted by the monsters and injured. “Whenever you are ready to go, I will follow.”

Killian wasn’t one to judge people so quickly, but he had a good feeling about Cyran. The other man had saved him without knowing him, clearly had a desire to rid the Isles of these harpies, and even now, expressed concern for Killian, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

Killian stood up, giving his shoulder one final rotation to alleviate the soreness, then nodded to Cyran. “Thanks, but I’m good to go.”

With the other man close behind, Killian made his way deeper into the trees, constantly glancing up to get a glimpse of the nest. So he was completely taken unawares when something shifted in the underbrush and suddenly a harpy was shooting out and Killian was thrown into Cyran.

‘Since when do they hide on the ground?’ He thought as he and the Elf went tumbling. They both turned their falls into backwards rolls and popped back up in fighting stances, perfectly synchronized [Cat’s Grace].

Killian pulled out his blade as the grounded harpy flapped its wings and turned back to face them. There was something wrong with one of its wings, it looked like it had been shredded. ‘Were the harpies fighting each other even before we came here?’ What was going on?

Cyran had told him he likes to support from behind… “Stay back,” he told the Elf. “If you see an opportunity, take it.” Killian would play to the other man’s strengths, that’s fine.

He walked slowly forward, sword held low, eyes on the wounded harpy. The harpy bared its teeth at him and let out a hissing, guttural sound. “Easy…” Killian murmured. Then the harpy reared back, wings attempting to flap, and Killian was shooting forward, his sword held at middle level [Dashing]. As he shot past the harpy, dragging his blade through its torso, he swung around and delivered a second blow before the creature could react [Double Strike]. The creature stumbled back, blood pouring from a massive gash, and Killian could see Cyran behind it, ready to strike.

And just like that, the harpy was dead. Killian shared a glance with Cyran, then looked around. A massive tree extended into the sky, and at the top... 'So the creature had fallen from the nest after it was wounded. Probably been waiting for days for prey to walk by...'

Killian sheathed his sword. "Ready?" He asked the other man.

Despite Cyran’s insistence that they could stop and take a breather if he needed, Killian was determined to push forward, like nothing could come between him now that he’d set his sights on the harpy’s nest. Killian gave his shoulder one more experimental roll to make sure everything was in working order before setting off. Cyran huffed out a sigh, muttering something under his breath in elvish about how young people always seem to have boundless energy.

They weren’t walking for very long before Cyran noticed something shuffling in the nearby brush- he gasped, reaching for his dagger, but he wasn’t quick enough to grab his weapon before Killian suddenly slammed into him, throwing them both to the ground. Cyran ducked and rolled, picking himself up at the exact same time as Killian, both fighter and assassin drawing their weapons in sync.

Their attacker was another harpy, one with a wing that looked like it had been torn to shreds by another set of razor-sharp claws. Exactly how the harpy had ended up in such a state was a question to ask for later- right now, Cyran had to watch Killian’s back, who’d already dashed forward and delivered two devastating blows with his sword in a whirlwind of steel and precision blows. His technique was impressive, and more importantly, set Cyran up for the finishing blow.

This time, Cyran pulled out Mercy’s Lament from its hiding place, darting forward right behind Killian, footsteps barely making so much as a sound before he drove the serrated dagger right into its back, ripping through flesh and muscle.^[1,2] The harpy let out a haunted scream that betrayed an inkling of the horrible visions that filled its mind in its last moments of life. He sheathed his dagger right as the harpy collapsed to the ground before nodding at Killian.

“Yes. Let’s continue on.” There was a hint of unease in his voice as he stared down at the monster’s body. Not afraid for the task at hand, but concerned for what those claw marks meant. He’d never seen such infighting between harpies before. What could have caused them to strife with one another?

They’d probably find out soon enough. The two were drawing closer to the cluster of trees that made up the harpy’s nest, and Cyran could hear the squawking of the avian monsters inside, and if he strained his ears, the sound of a struggle.

They didn’t have time to waste.

---

1. Back Stab
2. Dagger of Torment

Killian and Cyran moved forward together, neither one talking. Both were focused on the mission at hand. Killian smiled to himself- Cyran really was his kind of guy.

As they approached the cluster of trees, Killian took note of the thick branches that got more and more entangled as they got higher. The nest.

Killian ducked under a low branch, and when he stood up on the other side, he froze. The trees all around him were connected through hundreds of interconnected branches, leaving a large clearing in the middle. Yet more branches twisted upwards along the sides, almost like ladders the harpies could scamper up instead of using their wings. As Cyran entered the nest behind him, Killian quickly motioned for the Elf to stay quiet. Ahead of them, three harpies were in some sort of struggle, scratching and screeching at each other, though flapping wings hid most of the action.

“Are harpies normally this… self-destructive?” Killian whispered to Cyran. Movement above caught his attention. Something very large was shifting in the branches of the nest. Killian felt his stomach lurch as a large, bloated harpy moved its girth about above them. It was several times larger than the other harpies they had seen.

“Oh.” Killian muttered when he got a better glance at it. It was male. He had never even heard of a male harpy, though he supposed it made sense- The species had to reproduce somehow. Then that would mean… the females were fighting for a right to mate. Killian might have felt bad for the creatures, if they hadn’t been taking out their frustrations by attacking and killing people.

He glanced at Cyran. The other man seemed as ready as he was to finish things. Killian nodded, gripped his sword, and dashed in.

The first harpy screeched in surprise as his sword cut through its wing, and it turned to face him as he ripped out his blade and ducked its retaliating swipe. He continued his motion by dashing towards the second harpy, which had its claws dug into the third, and leaped onto its back. As one arm wrapped around its neck, it released the other harpy and took off, flapping and smashing itself into the trees and branches that created the ‘room’. Killian slid his sword between its shoulder blades and pulled on its neck, trying to get the blade in deeper.

Below him, Cyran was dealing with the other two. Killian glanced down as the harpy continued its flight of pain, and as he passed over Cyran, he pulled his sword out of the flying creature’s back and let go, falling the twenty or so feet to land on one the harpies, driving his sword into its back with all the force of the drop. His blade pierced clean through the harpy’s chest, and blood spurted along the earthen ground. As it collapsed, dead, Killian rolled off of it, pulling his sword out as he did, and then he was next to Cyran and taking an offensive stance, blade held low to the ground and ready to strike in the best way possible to follow up Cyran’s next move.

The struggle, much to Cyran’s surprise, was the sound of even more harpies clashing up ahead in a flurry of feathers and beaks and talons. Cyran would normally consider himself fond of birds, but even he felt a bit of nausea watching that scene unfold. Protected in the nest of twisting trees and tangled branches, Cyran and Killian watched from a safe distance away, both unsure of what they were seeing.

“In my experience, they’re usually not…” Cyran said with a frown. He was certainly no monster expert, so he could only base his knowledge of the creatures on past experiences. When he’d fought them in the open ocean with Gerhart, they’d seemed to be much more cooperative than this in search of their next meal, and even retreated as a unit when they were overwhelmed. This kind of behavior was entirely new and foreign to him. His confusion didn’t last for long, though- a few seconds later he found his answer in the form of a harpy bigger than any Cyran had ever seen shifting in the trees above them, on the prowl for another mate.

Cyran and Killian shared a look, one that conveyed all the bewilderment that neither would put to words. It was the weary kind of expression that asked, is this really happening right now?

Considering they still had a job to do and a nest of vicious avian monsters to deal with, the answer was still a resounding yes. Killian charged forward first, sword poised and ready to strike, leaving Cyran to follow. He tapped his boots together, unlocking the hidden, icy blades concealed in the soles.^[1] The blades gave him a little extra speed as he glided behind Killian on the ice that formed in thin lines on the ground underneath him, barely making so much as a sound as he smoothly withdrew Spell Slicer and Cold Steel from their sheaths.

He spun around the first harpy that Killian had engaged with, movements smooth and elegant as he stuck to the shadows, only darting out to strike at weak points and limbs with his daggers. Killian turned his attention to the second harpy, which took off, launching both it and Killian into the air. Cyran looked up only for a moment, alarmed, but that brief distraction was all the harpy needed to whirl around and leave a gash across his arms, immediately knocking him off balance from the force of the blow. Spell Slicer and Cold Steel tumbled out of his grip, falling just out of reach.

Cyran didn’t hesitate, immediately dropping into a flip backwards, legs spinning upwards in the air, slicing at the harpy with both of his concealed knives. The blades left two thin, vertical, deep ribbons of red up the entirety of the harpy’s torso all the way to the neck. Cyran righted himself, gliding backwards to retrieve his knives as the harpy let out a surprised squawking noise. He assumed a defensive position, both daggers raised, when a harpy suddenly dropped from the sky with a THUD, and Killian yanked his blade out of the corpse. The other man immediately rolled up and righted himself, taking his position on Cyran’s right.

Cyran nodded at him.

This time, it was Cyran’s turn to dart forward first, but rather than charge at the harpy, he glided towards the shadows of the trees, disappearing from sight.^[2] He wove through the thick cluster of branches, concealed in the shadow. The harpy glanced around wildly, wondering where its prey went, completely forgetting about the swordsman rapidly approaching it.

---

1. Ice Skates
2. Pass Without a Trace

As the harpy’s attention was kept firmly on Cyran, Killian ran in, blade still held low to the ground. He got within striking distance of the harpy and let his momentum carry his blade up, slashing through the harpy’s spine. As it screeched and fell forward, Killian prepared to deliver the killing blow, only to notice the other harpy just in time and twisted, slashing down, trading blows with it. As his sword embedded itself deep in the harpy’s shoulder, Killian went flying backwards, landing on his back.

And then the harpy was on top of him, its claws reaching for his throat. Killian reached up with the speed of those attempting to survive, and gripped the harpy’s talons in his hands, trying to keep the large creature away from him. The harpy flapped its wings, and pressed down with all of its considerable strength. Killian pushed back, muscles straining, doing everything to keep it from getting any closer… 

He could feel the pressure, the force of the creature’s strength pushing him into the earth, his muscles on fire, his face contorted in a grimace, spit flaking his lips with the effort of holding off the beast with nothing but raw strength [Bull’s Strength]. He felt his sore shoulder start to scream at him, and knew he had to end this NOW.

With an almighty heave, he thrust the creature back, forcing it to give ground just enough to allow him to pull his legs in under the harpy, and then he kicked with all his strength, and the harpy shot backwards and fell on its back. Killian scrambled to his feet and threw himself on top of it before it could right itself, reached up and grabbed his sword, still stuck in its shoulder, and pulled down as hard as he could.

The harpy gave a strangled gasp as his blade tore down through its shoulder and into its chest. A spurt of blood shot out, splattering Killian’s face as it died, and then all was quiet. Killian looked up, breathing hard and dripping red. Cyran had finished off the other harpy. Which just left…

Killian looked up. Beady black eyes were looking back down from the monstrous male harpy, surveying the scene of carnage the two men had unleashed in its nest.

Cyran was too far away to stop the harpy from tackling Killian. Distraction immediately abandoned, he glided out from the treeline, darting out from the shadows with his blades raised. Not quick enough to get to Killian in time- the harpy forced him to the ground, pinning him down as its claws attempted to slice up Killian’s neck. He wasn’t going to make it in time-

Until Killian managed to shove the harpy off with a labored grunt, muscles shaking with the effort of freeing himself. He immediately dove for the harpy, driving his blade through the shoulder and the chest, spraying blood all over himself as he caught his breath, chest heaving from the exertion of the kill.

The two stood there for a moment, both covered in harpy blood and exhausted from the last vestiges of that battle fading from their veins. They’d taken care of the underlings, but Cyran was not so foolish as to believe that fight had been the end of things. Not with the harpy patriarch still wandering around here…

Killian suddenly looked up into the treeline above, and Cyran followed his gaze- only to grimace when he found the patriarch staring down at them with dead eyes, feathers ruffled while it regarded the two men that had just slain its potential mates.

… How long had it been watching them?

Cyran didn’t like the implications of that. From what he knew of harpies, they weren’t the brightest of beasts, but this one seemed to have some spark of intelligence. Almost as if it were assessing the tactics of the fighter and the assassin, waiting for the right moment to strike once it understood what it was dealing with.

Cyran swallowed and raised his blades, but he had a feeling steel alone wouldn’t be enough to handle this beast.

The patriarch jumped from its perch, forcing both Cyran and Killian to jump out of the way. The ground beneath them shook from the impact of the harpy’s landing. The force would have thrown Cyran off balance if he did not manage to right himself on the ice skates as he spun backwards. The harpy spread its wings, opening its beak before letting out a screech that rustled the trees around them.

This was it. The final battle.

Cyran wouldn’t give it time to make the first strike. He pointed his finger at the harpy’s face, shooting off a beam of dark magic, aiming right for its eye.^[1] A miasma of dark energy crackled in the air, striking the giant beast right in the side of its beak. Enraged, the patriarch turned its attention to Cyran first, waving one of its wings in the air. A powerful gust of wind knocked him back, throwing him into a nearby tree.

Pain blossomed in his back as the air was knocked out of his lungs, momentarily disoriented as he hit the ground. Gasping, Cyran tried to pull himself into a sitting position, recovering just in time to see the patriarch charging right for him, the vulnerable target.

---

1. Chaos Bolt

The patriarch charged towards the downed Cyran, and Killian bolted after it. WIth a burst of speed [Dash] he managed to just get within sword reach and swung, the tip of his blade slicing across the harpy’s hindquarters. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was enough to cause the creature to flinch, its course changing just enough so that it slammed into the trees next to Cyran.

Killian ran to Cyran before the harpy could right itself, and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s finish this.” He said.

Gripping his sword tightly, Killian stepped to the left of the harpy, Cyran stepping to the right. Both fighters were focused, both on the creature and on each other. It was the slightest of nods from Killian, and then both were moving. Killian dashed in at an angle, striking the harpy’s right side [Dash], while Cyran sped towards its left, skates cutting a pale white line across the ground. As Killian’s sword slashed across the harpy’s side, Cyran did the same with his daggers opposite him.

Killian’s momentum moved him past the harpy, and he found himself facing the wall of trees. Not stopping, he ran at the wall, leaped, and kicked off of it, spinning in mid-air to face the harpy. As he landed on its back, Cyran was ducking underneath it. Killian drove his sword down into its back as Cyran slashed across its chest in a series of blades, first one dagger, then the other, turning his thrusting momentum into a lunge towards the ground, cartwheeling and dragging both ice skates across its bloodied torso. His movement took him out from under the harpy as it collapsed with a pitiful cry, Killian leaping down in front of it.

And then there was stillness. Killian was breathing hard, sword still gripped tight in his hand. Turning slowly, he looked the dying creature in its eye. “All things being equal,” He said quietly, “I would have left you alone. But you only would have continued being a threat to people.” With that simple apology said, Killian struck fast, a large overhead blow that took the patriarch's head off. As it tumbled to the ground and rolled between Killian and Cyran, the swordsman sheathed his sword.

“And that’s that.”