GLoG 91

[Recaiden]

Spoiler: Previously

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The Empress smiles slightly behind her heavy helm, and even as she formulates her plan to press her advantage, a voice rings out as a bystander appears. The smile vanishes quickly as The Empress finds herself forced to move quickly in order to place herself between Anchor's arrival and The Buzzard King. "Stay back!" The Empress calls out as she moves, trying to make sure her shield and blade are positioned to interfere with any attempt her foe might make to snatch life away from the newcomer.

As a result of having to traverse the freshly cut trees and stumps, she leaves her torso and abdomen completely open and unguarded.

Since the nameless man is curious enough he goes along the shore and takes notes of the boats there. With a look a round a a shrug he takes one and starts his way to the island in the Middle.

The King heaves his great head to look at Anchor, and is surprised to find the Empress attempting to intercede between them. Surely he wouldn't have attacked the stranger... though one can't speak for collateral damage and the like, should the mortal remain as close to the battle as she is.

Ah well. The weakness of the Scion is his strength. In one moment, the king is still, the next he's hurtling forward like a freight train. His limbs stamp and smash, trampling the island beneath his twisted feet and his clenched fist. He's a little on the slow side, perhaps due to the imbalance of missing a limb, yet the actual impairment is deceptive...

It seems to have no effect on his ability to dive at the Empress, throwing his arm forward at the span of seven men laid heads to feet, nor to affect a legendary thrust with that same arm at the Empress's exposed middle. The rusted carver juts through the air, seeking blood to paint it's pitted point.

This armored giant is...protecting her? That's rather kind. Maybe. It makes up for the Empress's presumptuous words. But it doesn't answer her question.
Anchor makes a single deliberate step forward.

"If no explanation is forthcoming while the battle goes on-"
Her shadow scampers up, offering something. A sword, a huge claymore that takes on depth as Anchor takes hold of it, no longer a mere trick of the light, but still dark, dark. Then her image slips off past her, circling the combatants, completely ignoring its proper place on the opposite side of the woman from the sun.
"-I'll just have to defeat you both!"

A bold claim, that. She adjusts her grip, lifts the blade, and settles into a guarded stance. Who knows what these monsters are capable of?