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There had been a strange tension in the air, an undefinable sense of something to come that accompanied the oppressive humidity of the day. More than one of the mourners seemed to feel this sensation, and many cast their gazes around the grim surroundings, seeking some explanation as to what it was they felt. For Cyrus, the sensations brought him starkly into the moment, sharply honing his focus on what was occuring around him. His Sanguine senses flared to full life as the legionnaire strained to hear, to smell, to identify anything out of the ordinary, as did the russet Pandora at his side.
All that they sensed however, was the aura of death that surrounded them.
A horse's whiney immediatly caught Cyrus' attention, and his head whirled in the direction of the sound. He watched with rapt attention as the horse and it's burden came into clearer view, and as he registered what it was he saw, the soldier's entire form became as still as the headstone he stood by. His sapphire orb then slowly trailed up, and fell upon the figures that now dotted the horizan. The breath left the soldier's lungs in a small, steady exhale, the only physical response on his part to the arrival of the savage looking hoarde. His Virkyn shadow also fixed her luminous blue eyes on the figures, her large orbs unblinking and her lean, dark form entirely still as well, as both assimilated the reality of what was happening.
The scene then dissolved into chaos, as those mourners unable to cope with the prospect of what lie ahead gave in to their panic, fleeing like sheep only to be ridin down by the first of the mounted savages. Almost without thinking, Cyrus reached across and tore Karvaaka free of her leather sheath in a single smooth motion, her eldritch ardentium blade flaring with an incandescent light upon feeling Cyrus' touch. Almost immediately after, a shimmer in the air surrounding the legionnaire's left fist could be seen, growing in intensity and form until a gleaming twin of the soldier's longsword had wholly manifested in his auxillary hand. The soldier immediately shifted his body into a defensive stance, bringing his dual longswords up and at the ready, and his visage lost all emotion and expression as he prepared to meet his enemies in battle. He was a legionnaire after all; a Cencoris of the Heavy Infantry already fated to clash blade against blade with the Orcs of Ire. Battle such as this was his life, his love, and his destiny.
The soldier's sapphire gaze fell upon a figure distinct from the rest, distinguished by his massive height and the antlers that further served to increase his visibility. Immediately, a voice screamed 'leader' in Cyrus' mind, and whether it was true or not, the legionnaire knew that he had his target. He had only to reach him however, though he knew the throngs of blood-thirsty monsters between the mounted barbarian and himself would not simply stand aside for their leader to be slain. There would be much death this day, but with a small, morbid smirk, Cyrus reflected that perhaps it was an appropriate setting for such carnage.
Shifting his attention back to the horsemen that rode headlong towards the assembled mourners, the legionnaire focused entirely upon their advancing forms. His infamous rage had not yet surfaced; now was the time for cold, calculating strategy in the face of these beasts. Both he and Pandora tensed, their every muscle flexed and poised to respond to the threat as soon as it was within reach. Armed with only his personal longswords, Cyrus knew that there would not be much he could do against the mounted madmen until they either charged past him or came close enough to attempt to strike him down. Then however, he would unleash a raging whirlwind of steel upon what foe chance met him first in battle.
The moment of truth was comming; riding swiftly towards him and screaming a blood-curdling battle cry. Cyrus tensed his legs and raised his blades, lone azure eye fixed and unafraid as it watched the nearest rider comming towards them all.
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