With the Ixal’s attention properly taken off of him and directed at the Elezen and his chocobo instead, Thancred gains a moment to come back to his feet. He does so with far less grace than usual, but the adrenaline coarsing through him makes it ever easier to ignore the discomfort that comes with his wound.
Be it pride or sense of duty that spurred him to quickly grasp his remaining knife from where it fell into the snow, but as long as he could stand he would do his part.
The rogue takes a steadying breath, trying to focus. As it stands they are outnumbered, and something needs to happen to balance the scales.
Thancred focuses inward, hoping he will have enough time to execute one – if not the most – reckless skill he possesses. It is nowhere near as impressive as some spells he has seen Shtola or Urianger perform over the years, from the outside there is merely a faint shift in the air around him before he vanishes from sight entirely.
Taken at face value it is not all that different from a skill the rogues of Limsa Lominsa learn to perform, the difference being that the latter is but a mere play with the opponents senses, a shade would linger, allowing others to still perceive him to some degree, but this one on the other hand would leave him invisible. The perfect deception.
Every sound seemed dulled, every motion slowed. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and he could feel his body fade the longer he remained in this state. Severing one’s connection to the aether that kept them alive came at a price after all.
Thancred makes it’s way across the battlefield, ignoring those opponents in the front the knight and his chocobo have handled and focussing his attention on the Ixal further back. A conjurer and a thaumaturge. There is also the one with the lance who still has the rogue’s knife lodged in its shoulder.
Thancred moves toward it, reaching out his free hand to rip the knife out of the leathery skin. Then, having noted the defensive approach of the Elezen, he turns his hand to have the hilt face the Ixal’s temple and brings it down hard.
Thancred moves on to the conjurer. His vision is already blurring, and even breathing feels like a chore. He has but a few seconds left before he will drop. He knows, but still he presses on.
The conjurer is dealt with in much the same matter. The only trace of the rogue’s movement the droplets of blood that stemmed from his arm. His attacks only left the Thaumaturge standing, and he hopes the knight and his companion are able to deal with the rest.
He moves again. His legs like led, his head swimming and throbbing with pain. He can feel blood dripping from his nose, but still he continues on.
Now standing behind the third Ixal, Thancred raises his hands once more, the knives shaking alongside his hands. The deception drops. He reappears with a loud gasp as his lungs finally draw in a proper gulp of air. He sees the Ixal turn despite his blurring vision, but it is too late. The blow to it’s head hits hard and it, too, falls onto the frozen ground.
“Your… turn…” Thancred heaves, just loud enough for the Elezen to hear as he turns his attention back to him. The statement would have been accompanied by a challenging smirk but as it is he has hardly enough energy to keep himself upright. In its entirety all this transpires in a matter of seconds, but it leaves him winded in the same way hours of combat would have.
so focused on formulating the quickest way to take the three ixali closest to him ━ bearing the biggest immediate threat ━ down, haurchefant takes little note of the wounded rogue behind him, trusting darling to warn him if aught changes. fortunately, it seems like most of the beastmen seem to have turned their focus on him as well rather than their initial prey ━ the ixali stillbeak that took the brunt of darling’s talons back on its feet with help from the conjurer further in the back.
it is the wildtalons he needs take out fastest, however; the curved scimitars at their side glinting dangerously in the low sun as they make to circle him. one of them seems younger, more agitated in its impatience ━ the first strike made easily blocked by his sword, even as he moves his shield to protect his back in case the second tries the same.
from somewhere to his left, he hears darling whistle in sudden alarm. though at first he thinks it a sign for him, ‘tis not until it is somehow repeated by the stillbeak that he chances a look away ━
only to see two of the three ranged foes unconscious in the snow, the rogue seemingly appearing out of thin air behind the third to take him down as well. though the challenging words thrown his way shake him from his surprise ━ he has worked with rogues before, but none that he knows can disappear completely like this hyur just did ━ whatever amazement he feels is dampened by a sharp concern: if aught, the male looks even worse now than he did afore, pale and unsteady, wounded arm now hanging completely limp.
well, that will not do. stranger or not, haurchefant has no intentions of losing his charge to his own apparent recklessness ( impressive as it is ); especially not if said recklessness may have tilted the odds distinctively in his favor.
besides, he quite dearly wishes to know what business a rogue with such skills and an archon brand on his neck had sneaking around on ixali territory ━ especially if that action could threaten the tenuous balance they’d struck with the beastmen.
first thing’s first ━ taking advantage of the confusion, he turns to the side with a smooth movement, swiping the legs from the stillbeak out from under him as the ixali tries to charge towards the rogue anew. in that same movement he continues, bringing his shield up to bash it against the wildtalon’s sternum positioned behind him, stunning it in its surprise. a glint from the corner of his eyes has him adjust swiftly, the scimitar of the first harmlessly glancing off his armor and with another swift turn, he catches that one in the temple with the flat of his sword.
he stays not to watch it crumple, instead moving swiftly towards the rogue in order to catch him ere the hyur’s drops through his knees. he is barely conscious, haurchefant notes, though the hyur’s gaze still meets his own, the hint of a smirk visible ‘neath the strain. the corners of his mouth twitch, almost unbidden; reluctant amusement glinting in his blue hues. once a rogue ━
“ my apologies for what needs be done, “ he says then without preamble, sweeping the arm not wound around his back under the crook of his knees to lift him off his feet.
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