Sylvari comes to the half-elf's rescue. Again. How many times does that make it now? How many more times will this happen?

Enough. 

This is not the time for self-pity. Sylvari has taken one of the creatures down already, and he's done nothing but lose a boot and fall in the mud. 

Everett spins around after Sylvari has gotten the bug's attention. He spots the undead hulk thundering its way over as well. Still not a hundred percent sure about the lumbering corpse, he makes sure not to get in its way and instead moves to flank the vorrapede.

Once he's within striking distance, he tries to focus on finding a gap in the creature's carapace that he can slip the narrow blade into. Spotting where the chitinous plating on the creature's back overlaps and shifts as it wriggles, he focuses on making a single precise incision. 

Wind kicks up again, lifting his hair and making his coat tail billow as the breeze gathers around his blade. The air swirls and becomes concentrated around the rapier right before he strikes.^[1]

The blade jams in between the plates and the wind slices into the softer tissue beneath the exoskeleton.

Screeching, the vorrapede squirms and makes a move to dive back into the soft soil to escape.

---

[1] Summon: Wind Blades

Seeing the creature make a move to retreat back under ground, Sylvari was quick to dash where its head was aimed at burrowing, juxtaposing herself between the beast and its target. Thankfully, as Sylvari expected, the creature's sight was quite lacking on the surface where it's tremorsense was harder to direct. The knight stood stalwartly, resisting the Vorrapede's attempted to break passed her first with her shield ^{[Shield Hit Preventions 3/3]} and then with her armored body ^{[Cuirass Hit Preventions 2/2]}, when the former was dented to the point of uselessness.

During this time, her servant had thundered over and began laying into the worm with devastating slashes of its greataxe, cleaving a heft into the carapace, just behind the beast's head. Sylvari was by no means idle, either, lashing out with her own furious warhammer, clanging against the armored exoskeleton like a forge master creating a new weapon. She knew however, this current furious pace was unsustainable. 

Her voice rang out, over the clamor of the battle, calling Everett to glory, calling him to fight and kill ^{[Knight, Battle Cry]}. "Everett! Finish this! Go for the kill. You can do it!" Sylvari could only rely on her friend, feeling her grasp of arcana animating her servant slip out of her grasp, causing the amalgamated hulk to fall to discordant pieces before wafting into a sinister smoke.

Something about this whole fight changes for Everett. His mind starts to swim and his vision grows blurry. It's hard to focus. The smell of smoke, the clang of metal, the cry of battle. It's all too familiar. From his perspective, time seems to slow. His body feels heavy and sluggish, yet his movements almost float. 

Shades of figures move past the corners of his eyes, but when he tries to focus on them, they flit from his sight. Apparitions from the past, ghosts that haunt the edges of his mind, the same figures that appear in and out of the dense for clouding his memories.

Sylvari's battle cry fills him with strength that feels like the bracing hand of an old friend, and for a moment it provides enough clarity to him to remember where he is and what they are doing. With that bolstered strength he throws his weight against his blade and sinks it deeper into the vorrapede before it can flee back into the safety of the underground. 

The vorrapede shrieks in pain before its squirming finally ends. A stillness falls over the battlefield as their victory becomes more conclusive with each second of silence. 

Everett slowly releases his grip on his sword, leaving it standing upright in the creature's corpse. He looks down at his trembling hand as the echoes of battle still ring in his ears. His vision doubles before a wave of exhaustion hits him and the ground and sky swap places before his eyes.

Sylvari would see him sway on his feet for a moment before collapsing unconscious on the ground.

Thankful that Everett ended the increasingly dangerous game of keep-away that she was engaging in with the beast, Sylvari looked up to see her friend swaying slightly on his feet. She rushed over, just in time to save him from plummeting into the loathsome mire that would have stained his clothing and caked onto his face. Mentally and physically drained from the encounter and how much arcana she used, Sylvari slumped to sit on her knees as she cradled Everett's head in her lap.

As she waited for her friend to regain consciousness, she checked him over for signs of excess injury. Thankfully, he seemed to be mostly unblemished. Still, she channeled some of her patron's power into Everett for good measure ^{[Celestial, Holy Gifts (Massive Healing)]}. It seemed to help him sleep more peacefully, at least. Contented in the fact that she had done all she could for the moment, Sylvari merely hummed a half-forgotten lullaby that her mother would sing to her in the healing tent when she was young and idly brushed the hair from her friend's face.

"You did very well, darling. Thank you for being by my side."

The man doesn't look like he sustained any major injuries and he didn't use that much magic. Then again, magic seems to be difficult for him to control consistently, so maybe it took more of a toll on him than expected. Still, something seems off about whatever is going on with the man, this doesn't seem normal for someone just suffering from amnesia. 

After a few moments, Everett slowly opens his eyes and squints into the sunlight filtering through the treetops. His gaze then drifts over to Sylvari as her face comes into focus. The sunlight dances across her sterling silver hair as she hums a tune he doesn't recognize.  

Who...?

No, no, he knows her...

Right?

He tries to remember what happened, but his memory is full of dense fog once more. Trying to delve into the fog bank makes his head throb with a dull pain. 

What is her name again?

It starts with an S.

"...Sylvari?"

That's her name. Her name is Sylvari. He met her in...Sol City, Capitol Landing. They did a mission together. They fought a vampire. 

Vampire.

Sylvari is a vampire, but she doesn't drink blood. She drinks magic. That's right. She feels like she's a monster, but she's so kind and gentle. 

He looks past her at the trees and then around at the swamp. 

"Where are we? What happened?"

With an abiding patience as boundless as it was hard-won over the course of her travels, a serene smile spread across Sylvari's face as her friend's eyes fluttered open. She masked her concern as Everett's amnesia seemed to flare up again, his confusion obvious on his face. At least he remembers me. We must be thankful for the blessings we have.

"You and I are in the Marsh Flats, dear. We worked together to defeat a troublesome pair of Vorrapedes. I don't believe you sustained any serious injuries, but I have applied healing magics to you, just in case. Are you strong enough to sit on your own?"

Sylvari's tone was kind and gentle. Despite her words encouraging Everett to test the limits of his mobility, she made no motion to lift him from her lap, content to be of use to a dear friend in some small way. She would not force him to exert effort until he was ready. She felt somewhat responsible for his collapse, pushing him so strongly to finish the fight. I dearly hope his action did not cause him some unseen trauma from the exertion. I know he is a deft and capable warrior, but I know firsthand that martial acumen does not render us invulnerable.

Ah.

That's right. Or at least, it makes sense.

He has no reason to believe Sylvari would lie to him. 

Are you strong enough to sit on your own?

He nods and sits up to rest his elbow against one knee. His vision swims a bit as the dizziness from sitting up slowly fades. Now that he's upright, he can see what's left of the vorrapede corpse that still has his blade stuck in it. 

Well, at least he didn't lose it in the mud. 

Looking out across the marsh, it's almost serene and peaceful. Sylvari's mount isn't far from them and looks like it's something right out of a fairytale with how the green foliage frames it. 

He lets out a sigh. "Sorry."

It feels necessary to say. Somehow he ended up needing to be rescued by Sylvari yet again. How many more times would he lean on her strength and skill rather than his own? At this rate, he's going to be responsible for her getting hurt...

Wait...didn't she get hurt?

He feels like something like that did happen during the fight. Glancing back at Sylvari, she looks fine as far as he can tell. His brow furrows and a look of concern crosses his face.  

"You're not hurt are you?" 

Sylvari merely shook her head and smiled at her friend in response to his question. She decided against going into the intricacies of how she could siphon the ambient leftover necromantic energies she utilized to animate her servants as a healing balm for her own energies. Some small, selfish part of her hoped that he would forget her use of necromancy entirely. For as supportive as her friends were, she couldn't help but harbor suspicions that they looked at her differently once her use of the dark arts was in full view.

"I'm quite alright, my dear. My armor took the beating for me. That's what it's there for. And you have no reason to be sorry. You mustered your strength and ended the fight for us. You played a pivotal role in our success, and I don't want any funny ideas about inadequacy floating about in that head of yours."

Seeking to punctuate her statement with some finality, the justiciar rose to her feet and walked over to retrieve Everett's rapier, wrenching it from the beast's corpse. She returned and handed it to him, still covered in the monster's blood.

"There's your proof, darling. You ended this fight. Justice has won the day." Sylvari's confident smile was infectious as she offered her friend a hand up.

He watches her rise to her feet and cross the marshy ground over to retrieve his sword for him. She then comes back and hands the weapon to him. His eyes drift across the silver sword, its pocked surface smeared with the viscera of the monster. 

Reaching up to take it, his hand stops short at her words. 

You ended this fight. Justice has won the day.

Justice...

Was this really justice?

He takes the sword and runs his fingers across the engravings on the guard. Then he spots Sylvari's hand extended down to help him. Looking back up at her, it's hard for him not to smile back at her. 

"Thank you," he says as he sheathes the blade for now and takes her hand to get up. He'd have to properly clean the blade later. 

Glancing back at the vorrapede carcass. 

"I doubt if that thing could talk it would share your sentiment though." 

His eyes drift down to Sylvari's hand still held in his. "Regardless of if I killed it or not, I still owe you yet again." He meets her eyes once more. "There aren't many bars out here, so it'll be a while before I can treat you to drinks again. I hope that's okay."

Sylvari's cheer and candor drained away at Everett's mentioning of the plight of the slain beast. She looked at her friend with a somber expression and managed a slow nod.

"'Let not many be peacekeepers, for theirs is a terrible calling. They are tasked with facing the horrors of the world to shield others from their viewing and staining their very souls that other may be as unblemished as the driven snow.' An old proverb of my people. Our work is not easy, nor is it glamorous like the common folk seem to think, but we have a high, laudable calling to protect their innocence. I wish it were possible that we could lead the beasts away to where they would not be a threat to people, but sadly, such a thing is beyond my abilities. Mayhaps another adventurer, more skilled than I, would be able to manage it, but as I am now, I must merely muddle through with what I know. It's a heavy burden, and one that pushes me ever onwards to greater skill that I may complete my mission more perfectly. I pray the next time we fight together, neither of us has to stain our hands for the greater good."

With her piece said, Sylvari whistled for Mercy, who promptly trotted over, and climbed atop the frigid steed with her friend, eager to report the mission was completed, and to leave the accursed swamp behind her, at least for today.