Phase one: maybe.

[Rex Apium]

The moment the smell of blood had reached her nostrils, Sophia was already drawing the sacred oils from her pack. She didn't know for sure what they would see as they crested the hill, but she had the suspicion that it wasn't going to end well. At the top of it, she looked out over the scene with a quiet stoicism that transferred over into her response to Dunstan's proposal. She'd had no reason to disagree with it, it would work out well for them considering what they were looking at.

Both of her blades were placed in her lap as she watched Sir Dunstan and his horse trot down to the group of desperate men. She ran the oiled cloth over the blades, murmuring the prayers necessary to sanctify her blades. It wasn't a full sanctification, she didn't have time for that, but it would be enough for this small skirmish.

They were returned to their sheathes before Dunstan returned to the group and the top of the hill. Sophia's horse was already good to be out of this area and as she dismounted to climb onto the back of Dunstan's destrier, her palfrey moved several paces back down the way they had come. Sophia wasn't concerned the horse would wander off. The mare may not have been trained for war, but she was at the very least trained to not wander far.

Sophia's work was meticulous, carefully calculated and executed. Weaknesses in armor were taken advantage of, poor footing, chaos of battle. They were all to her advantage. Men fell and were silenced before their companions even knew they were missing. One down, move to the next, that one down. It was work to her, and if her face were visible beneath her hood it would be apparent she took no joy in it.

She heard Eric's voice, but not his words, at least not in their entirety. Men turned to run and Sophia gave chase to those close enough to debilitate. Cut hamstring to those nearby. A few others she sliced down as they ran before deciding continuing to give chase wasn't feasible. The men were too spread out and too far from where she stood. If she'd had a horse of any worth in battle, she would have kept after them, but she did not. Instead she returned to the men she debilitated and left behind, ending their lives with a slice of her inscribed blade.


Her blade had just sliced through the throat of the final debilitated man when she heard the commotion between Eric and Dunstan. A quick assessment told her that Eric had tried to stop Dunstan, had attempted to put himself and his horse in the way of Heard. It was obvious to see why it had ended the way it had.

He was idealistic, that Eric Archibald. It reminded her of a priest she'd gotten to know while going through the training to become La Spada Sacra. He had almost made it the entire way before God found him wanting and he died of fever during the last trial. The correlations here weren't exact, but Sophia couldn't help being reminded of that man.

The priest murmured the last rites as she walked to the two knights she'd been watching for a moment. Her blade had been sanctified, so the rites weren't necessary, but they were habitual. Extra solace for the souls she cleansed from this world, if they were lucky they might still see the gates of Heaven. She whistled sharply, a call her horse was attuned to. Hopefully the mare was still within range of the call and would come when beckoned. If not, Sophia surmised that one of the others could fetch the horse.

When she was finally within earshot of whatever it was the Sirs Dunstan and Eric were speaking of, she'd caught the ultimatum. Her assumptions on what Eric had done were correct, as far as she could tell. She stopped a handful of paces away. Far enough that she wasn't intruding, but close enough that the two men would be aware she was there.

Unlike those who remained on horseback, Sophia was covered in gore. Her white and red trimmed tabard with spattered with blood, and this carried onto her armor as well. Her blades were still drawn as she stood still there, and her heavy hood still drawn. For all intents and purposes her silent form appeared to just be waiting for a command.

“We can't stay here,” she said finally, “If those that survived don't regroup immediately to try and hunt us down while we're unprepared, then someone else is likely to stumble upon this field. We should make haste to be as far from here as possible.”

[Panzer]

By the time Dunstan had deflected the spear thrown his way and turned Marius had put a arrow through the guilty party. While the line was forming Marius took the time to draw his sword to complete the look of the feint. The blade still felt unwieldy in his hands even after all these years, he prayed that it didn't come to using it. A bit of motion from Sophia caught his attention and the ranger was finally able to confirm his suspicions, no normal priest carried blades like that, no she was one of those priests, this was no time to be picky about backup though.

The line was formed and off they rode ready to break upon the foe like water upon rock, at least that is what the enemy was thinking at least. When the opening presented itself the ranger broke off the line, replaced the sword in his scabbard and brought the bow up quickly knocking it as the horse galloped on. Marius caught a glimpse of a archer within seconds and quickly knocked an arrow and loosed, catching the man in a weak spot of his armor. He rode on looking for his next target while picking off the occasional straggler trying to escape or that had managed to only be slightly injured. Their foes were breaking quickly, that was a good thing, it looked as if they would emerge with little more then a dent in their armor or a scratch.


The remaining enemies turned to run and out of the side of his vision Marius saw Dunstan riding full fury down upon the survivors and Eric attempt to stop him. If the horse he rode wasn't lame already it for sure was now, a pity the gray had potential. The older man heard the shouting but what exactly was said he couldn't determine from his position, but it was obvious Sir Dunstan was no pleased in the slightest. Looking behind him he saw Johnny and smiled back at the lad, with little formal training in mounted archery the lad had done well, perhaps with some instruction the lad could be even better. 


Marius arrived in time to hear Sophia's council, she was right and he nodded his approval. "She's right, their is no need to remain here and it would be wise to put distance between the killing fields and where we chose to rest." He surveyed the two knights silently, took in the looks on their faces and it became apparent that whatever was said Eric had received what could only be compared to a lashing. Better to have dissent in the ranks now then when it really mattered. His eyes drifted to Sophia, he was right in covertly cautioning Eric to not judge a someone by their sex or upbringing. If the opportunity presented itself he would ask Sophia the questions in the back of his mind, but for now it was time to move.
   

[watchoutsamusishere]

Johnny was elbow deep in gore. Not from the battle, but from the animals; after all: waste not, want not. His orders were to take what he could from the slaughtered beasts, and that's exactly what he was doing. The group's provisions were mostly salted or dried meats, cheese or hard bread. That said, they were carrying several kegs of salt in case game was plentiful. This had been good foresight on the part of Sir Dunstan, for the bandits had no carts, no kegs, no mules or any other transport in sight. How they planned to take the stolen meat away from here was a mystery. But Johnny did not stop at meat. He also took usable tendons from the spine for they could be corded and used for bow strings.



He worked efficiently, therefore quickly, as he was a seasoned hunter. His knife was sharp, and his eye was good. He took the choicest muscles then placed them in a keg between layers of salt. While he moved from beast to beast he reflected upon the conversation he had overheard between Sirs Dunstan and Eric.



“Do not presume to act as my conscience, Sir Eric.” Dunstan's stern voice spoke to the kneeling knight. “I already possess one. I took no joy in killing these men,” he gestured to a nearby corpse, “and I would have taken no joy in killing the few you let escape to do God only knows what. But when done righteously, killing is a chore, like any other. And practiced hands make for easy labor. I want you to remember that, Sir knight, because should you again decide that your moral judgment overrules my command in the midst of battle, I will kill you myself. I give all men a chance for penance despite these accusations you throw upon me. I gave these men their chance when I approached them, hands raised and peace upon my lips and their answer was a spear. Short of falling on their knees and begging forgiveness, that is the only chance they would get from me, and this, Eric, is the only chance you will get from me.”



Johnny had heard Sir Eric brattle on about redemption and mercy and letting people escape unharmed. He'd seen the way he'd steered his horse into Sir Dunstan to stop him running down the few survivours trying to flee. It was brave. And lunatical. And really just altogether too much nonsense. Johnny had scoffed at the exchange between them, and the ridiculous way Sir Eric had sullied his shining armour to kneel. Meanwhile, Johnny had been working his way through the “survivours” doling out mercy to those who had been cut down with the glaive. Arms severed, legs, bodies ruptured and spilling into the damp soil. The mercy of the knife; the only kind he could offer.

He'd held their hands, listened to their last fearful words, given them whatever small comfort was possible; meanwhile, Sir Eric was off talking all that good shit and letting someone else clean up his mess. Not just his, there were a few arrow wounds, and a lot of victims of trampling. Sir Dunstan's victims seemed to be a lot less . . . alive by comparison. Sophia's were all as dead as it was possible to be: outright executed.



Johnny's part in the battle had been unworthy of relation. A lot of running dodging, ducking, diving and shooting. Oh sure, he could have gotten within twenty yards where his bow would fire straight and then opened himself up for everyone else shooting their bows, but instead he'd opted to stay at about sixty yards, and attempt to drop his shots in on the enemy archers. He'd gotten a couple. Some just bounced harmlessly off armour, and others ripped gaping wounds into exposed torsos or punctured limbs. But there was not a lot of shooting to be done. It was hard to plan a shoot on a manoeuvring opponent at a distance, especially when Sir Dunstan, Sir Eric and Lady Gatti were all in among the enemies. He couldn't readily predict where they would move in the several seconds of arrow flight so for the most part it wasn't worth the risk.



Initially, Sir Dunstan had granted Lady Gatti time to perform the proper observances for the fallen, but Johnny had asked permission to gather as many bodies as he could for burning. It had taken some time, but Sir Dunstan had understood the reality of leaving this many dead bodies to foul the ground. Any person who came here would become sick, any animal that supped would become infected, and any water beneath this land would be spoiled. There would be illness and death, and the land would take a long time to recover. It was unworthy of them to destroy the holdings of another when it was within their power to limit the damage. Sir Dunstan had granted him fifteen minutes to accomplish the task, and then had surprisingly helped him. Together they piled most of the bodies into one spot and then set them alight. The ground was too damp this time of year to catch fire, so they did not worry about burning the whole plain to ash.



And when this was done, they quickly washed themselves, climbed into their saddles and rode forward towards their destination, leaving the blazing pyre and the sullied plain behind them.

[wraithblade6]

Eric was glad to hear what he just did. Dunstan hadn't enjoyed killing nor had he failed to give fair quarter to these men. What was more, there was surprisingly no rage in his voice, no cursing, nor egotistical display that was so common among those who were insecure about maintaining their control over others. The same sense of good and righteousness Eric had seen before was still there. Dunstan didn't have to explain his reasoning to him, but he did. Eric didn't fail to recognize and appreciate his taking the time to bridge the gap between them.

The threat of death wasn't necessary, but Eric knew he hadn't yet proven himself trustworthy, and having a threat over his head would at least give Dunstan some initial sense of security to go on.

He kept his reply brief and professional.  "Please excuse me, for the wounded suffer."

Ending human suffering came first, and with Sophia's and John's help, it went quickly. Then Eric could attend his horse. The creature was dirty from charging through blood-covered field, and it stood with some trepidation at Eric's approach, weight shifted off its left front. Eric picked and checked its feet but outwardly saw no wounds. He was at a loss for how to help it. Still, he took what weight he could from its back and at least led it to softer, cleaner ground where a few of the other horses were.

It was more noble to burn the bodies than to leave them unburried on the ground to rot, but that also took time. So much for a swift departure as Marius had suggested. Digging graves wasn't really an option at any rate. Eric was quiet as he helped with this process, humbled by the blood on his hands and the pain incurred to his innocent animal. As the orange light blared, Eric knew such light and smoke would attract attention from miles around, especially as evening rolled in. He said nothing to this affect, as it was obvious to them all. They took what meat they could from the slain livestock, for it would have been more shameful to let it waste. It was possible that the farm had been targeted over a land dispute, or maybe the bandits had simply been hungry. Eric hoped it had not been the latter, but they would probably never know.

They finally set off, stopping only once more to wash. Eric again had to walk, which wore on him, but he would get used to it. They would need to walk late into the evening if they wanted to put any significant distance between themselves and the killing fields so as not to be easily tracked. Eric wondered if Marius would know what their chances were, but he was tired enough not to ask.