Miranda stabbed her staff into the ground, one hand wrapped tight around its shaft, the other rapidly tracing out the runes of a spell in the air before her. "I'm gonna need some time for this!" she shouted out to her companion.
Marcus sighed and rolled his shoulders, pulling his shield in front of his body and his sword by his ear, angled to be pointing forward towards the massive onslaught before him. It was two against... what? Fifty? His odds were not good.
"Time," he muttered under his breath. "Right. Because we have so much of that."
The ground just behind his feet rapidly sunk down, the crust of the earth breaking apart and slipping down around Miranda, leaving massive gaps of space between her and the attackers, the inside slowly filling with magma. That would keep her safe for the time being. But Marcus would have to keep the men fighting, else they begin to construct some sort of bridge or path. It would only take a few men to do that. That meant he had to be moving between several warriors at a time, and quickly. And all the while he had to not die.
"Damn witches."
The attackers fell on top of Marcus like a landslide, swords and shields coming down like hammers on steel. He could already feel the strength in his arm beginning to fail just trying to hold back the swarming flow of blows as he tried to find an opening to strike back. He had to move quickly, slipping between strikes and using his strength to divert blows rather than stop them, countering with his own blade when he could.
But he was quickly being overwhelmed. He could feels the heavy dull blows of shields, hilts, and feet pounding against his body, and small nicks of blades were cutting away at his armor and grazing his flesh. He dropped no more than a handful of men before he could see a group of stragglers attempting to plan away across to where Miranda was. He tried to push toward them, but he was surrounded. In a ditch effort, he threw his sword like a javelin, just barely piercing one of the men's shoulders, catching the group off guard and pulling them back towards the fight.
But that meant that Marcus was left with only a shield. He did his best to use it to defend himself, while at the same time striking out with it, aiming for throats but frequently hitting chests instead. The blows came quicker and heavier on his body, and there was little he could do about it.
The fighting had only lasted for a matter of minutes, but to Marcus it felt like an eternity. But it had given Miranda the time she needed.
A roar that split the air brought the fighting to an abrupt halt. Marcus dropped to his knees as the men turned to see Miranda, staff held high, flames bursting forth from its head to create the long form of a dragon, swirling around her and looking to feed. It took one look at the group of men and lashed out at them, teeth gnashing, flaming scales searing the land.
The men ran. The dragon gave chase.
It burned and destroyed everything in its path. It started with the slower, decimating them in a heartbeat, slowly climbing its way up their ranks until not a man was left standing.
Marcus lay on the ground, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, his breath brief. He watched the fire dragon destroy those who he had barely survived against. And then he watched the land rise back up to its previous place, and Miranda was standing over him.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side," he wheezed.
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