The Might stands tall through his force of will and his pride alone; he had long since built his foundations in his determination to always persevere, to never relent. He would not be the Might if he did not, he would not be their Captain if he relented to any weakness. The Captain of their highest army needed to be an unwavering force— he needed to be as dauntless as their title. Garen is sure that forcing himself to walk tall despite the wound in his side wasn’t the wisest decision, but he would sacrifice a measure of himself it meant steeling the resolve of his company. A commander must always lead by example.
His trust in Ekko, however, leaves not only without worry but reassured despite the circumstances. His Guardsmen were always prepared for an ambush as such is the nature of batle, but to be able to place his position of leadership into hands he believes capable was a rallying force of confidence within the Might. Demacians were never alone; they fought shoulder to shoulder, back to back. One sword was for a hundred, and a hundred swords were for one. Ekko had became a sword at his side that he had watched become something greater. He, too, could rally them.
A low, subtle rumble of a laugh rises in his throat momentarily despite their position. “If you insist, Ekko,” he answers, his voice lower for the time being. Garen clears his throat then after, looking onward before turning back to observe the soldiers of his company. Thankfully, he had been the one to take the worst hit with only two others had taken notable wounds; one soldier having been hit in his shoulder, and another her forearm grazed. They would heal well ( and Garen would receive medical care before him ).
When Ekko speaks again, Garen returns his attention to him and nods in agreement with the scout’s words. “I know you do,” he says, an unshakeable confidence in his words as he clasps a hand on the young soldier’s shoulder briefly. “I will have yours, too.”
He turns back to his company once more, picking up his sword as he addresses them in a low voice. “Follow our Scout’s orders. He will lead us back to camp,” he says sternly, his expression returning to the firmly set features of a commander. “These are your orders. Move out.”
immense responsibility, respect, and maturity adorned his young frame akin to the golden armor bestowed to him upon fulfilling garen’s training. sleek, slender; the plating shared intricacies with the signature demacian flare, but dropped all bulk in favor of agility; ekko’s smaller stature--he was not a mountain, but a lightning bolt. precise in how he flowed, struck, and blinked back out.
right now, he needed balance between natures, and to perhaps borrow garen’s grounded guidance to lead his men away from another rain of arrows and spears. but they moved slow, stomping heavy steps---horseback would overcome them, now that he had time to think. ekko could lead the attackers afar, a distraction, as the company made its way back towards camp. better to lose them now than to risk an elongated battle through the forest, spilling blood and attracting creatures from the shadows of the thick and darkening wood.
hooves pounded distantly.
‘ they’re coming back fast, i need three of the least injured to come and cover me, i’m going to split off and distract them - just long enough, then we’ll regroup. ‘ he intended fully to fulfill that plan, the men who followed certainly would help.... however ekko’s thoughts extended beyond, into an assassin-esque route, in his desire to cease the attacks overall and fully secure the squad’s safe passage (to make garen proud, to have earned, without a doubt, his complete faith in him)...
garen was hurt, ekko figured it was fair game to use his z-drive in more offensive ways, rather than passively mopping up shed blood. they wouldn’t expect an ambush to answer an ambush, right?
demacian warriors were fearless and eager - it took little to no time for ekko to have three willing volunteers, and before garen could continue his tough uninjured act, the boy stealthily moved forward through brush and gathering fog with a formation flanking and following him closely from behind.
the thunderous approach of the bandits signaled ekko to duck low, signaling for the men to follow suit - if they went unseen till half their enemies passed, they could flank and create a chaotic outburst, especially if ekko chose right and leaped onto their leader. with another signal, a message to hold, wait, watch until i need help, the boy dashed into the fray - a recklessness more weighed towards bravery, bold, brandishing his not-so-blunt weapon.
impact, tumbling, and roaring snorts from the horses in blind fury, pounding, ekko clambered to recover from the forceful dismount as chaos broke within the rest of the cavalry, turning inwards to his threat. several did not recoil from their charge and continued to garen’s company----ekko was quick to alert one of his soldiers. ‘ cut them off! ‘ a struggle, the man he slammed into now shoved and snarled, gripping for his weapon.
lengthy skirmishes didn’t bode well for ekko, his stamina reliant on how many rewinds he potentially needed, and in a perfectionist mindset----messy, if prolonged. the man’s sword was whipped from his grasp, a decisive parry, followed swiftly by ekko’s charge. his blows weren’t fatal, ekko didn’t willingly seek death in battles, but it was safe to say ‘ one down ‘ once his collapse completed. not bad!
five more, within reach, and ekko darted from bucking hooves and jolted spears, screams, arrows firing in uncoordinated frenzies, pelting an arm guard in futility. three left!
garen’s men fought well, covering sides, taking any stragglers out in single sweeps of the broadswords they carried. bandits were more or less retreating, scrambled, as ekko narrowed his path down to one. easy enough----he dashed inwards, only to stumble and fall forward at the hooking of his ankle, a bloodied hand clutching hard and yanking till it twisted and he cried painfully----one of the defeated had regained consciousness, and the immediate dread of a horrible mistake highlighted his vision, forgetting all training to drop his rewind reliance in a blinding flash of a swinging sword, prompting the boy to reach for his z-drive rather than his own blade------