The Lightbringer took just a moment to survey the battle. 

Valasta was fleeing from the man with the giant hammer. Kal'Saeria was fighting defensively as the man with shortswords easily outclassed her with speed. Emmeriss was still mounted, his mare running circles around the enemy archer, but the crossbow-wielding Valdrath woman demonstrated his steel-tipped arrows' uselessness. 

Considering, he decided where to intervene. 

A lash of the reins and Sandbucket hurled towards Valasta. 

Trusting his horse, Velwrith took a breath and drew his sword. Then he put his entire focus on a single thought, a spell, a prayer. In his mind, He could see motes of colored light all around him. Quickly and easily found the ones he wanted bright white motes of luminance itself. He reached out, drew them towards him, then wrapped them around his blade.

When he was finished, the blade in his hands was wrapped with a trailing streamer of radiance. Behind it for three feet trailed a razor-thin tail of brilliance. He felt it in the back of his mind like another limb.

 Sandbucket, combat-trained as he was, brought him directly to the hammer-man. With trained grace, the prince swung both sword and streamer in an underhanded arc. The tail of silvery light fluttered behind slicing behind.

The man with the giant hammer sidestepped as he surged past. Then, with one effortless movement, he brought the colossal bludgen around, over his head, and into a diagonal slam.

Velwrith pulled hard on his reins to circle around the man and swung his sword to parry. 

The horse skidded and slid on the gravel, and the edge of his messer threw sparks.

With a hard flourish, he brought the blade back around, feinting with the tip, and guiding the streamer with the hilt.

The labors bore fruit. A streamer of silver coiled around the man's midsection; he could not move. The uneven ring threatened to shred him if he advanced, ducked, jerked, wiggled, or retreated. 

So he did none of these things.

The pale bandit raised his right arm and launched his hand like a grappling hook. It caught Velwith in the chest, a steel claw bound only by the owner's magnetic prowess. 

The appendage did not impact hard. Instead, it simply stopped mid-air, dragging the Prince from the saddle while smashing his concentration into shards. The silver ring shattered along with it, bursting into a cloud of sparkling dust.

Once he was on the ground, the claw's grip tightened on his breastplate and began dragging him towards its owner.

But Velwrith was not alone. Valasta's needle struck, piercing the bandit's forearm, threading several feet of black cord through the wound. Then, with a jerk of the wizard's hands, the bandit's nub arm snapped to his side, the needle wrapping furiously around his midsection.

The bandit roared like an animal and swung the oversized hammer one-handed with startling ease. In a fury he lashed out at everything nearby. All the while, the metal claw stayed clenched, slowly dragging Velwrith nearer.

After a moment of struggle, The bandit smiled and chuckled. "Ya are some sons a bitches, aren't ye? Since you're all showin off tricks, how about I show you one of me own?"

"Stop this and surrender. Don't be a fool!" something boomed in Velwrith's mind. But he could not hear it, his blood was hot, and he wanted more fighting.

"Too late fur that, should've taken the easy way, to begin with," the bandit sneered, dropping his hammer and pulling a vial of red fluid from his belt. He pulled the cork with his teeth, wasteing no time.

But before he could drink a drop the container shattered.

"Well, now how likely is it to meet another Dhampir? Your mother was a vampire then? That does explain how you knew I'm Highborn, you can probably smell it on me too." Valasta said with a devilish grin. "That Mythril needle stings, doesn't it, Wildling?"

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to sustain such a question. I don't take too kindly to Ninny Aldrem pissbabies!" he shouted, releasing Velwrith from the death grip of his steel hand. Without hesitation, he whipped it back against himself, slashing his chest.

 Scraps steel, bits of cord, and patches of bloody skin flew away in equal measure. Five gashes covered the Wildling's blocky breastplate navel to the collar, but he was free. Covered in blood but with both hands affixed, he took on a broad unarmed stance. His hammer simply abandoned behind him.

"Pissbabies, aye? Love, did you know we've been traveling with a bunch of pissbabies?" Theaiss calm voice mocked from just along the way.

"I couldn't say. The definition of a pissbaby seems quite unclear to me." Odordious retorted, squinting at the battle. 

With a sigh, the mage went on, "Ohh, pity,  Emmeriss will be at it all day like that. Saeria is holding her own, but we-oh, never mind. That breath of hers really is quite impressive. Well then, Dear, will you help these two while I look after our bard? He is going to run out of arrows like that."

"Naturally, Love. Just remember our one rule," Theiss said, a dirty grin on his face. His husband appeared unamused. 

With a few short steps, the swordsmen were flanking the hostile dhampir—Velwrith and Theiss staying opposite one another while Valasta moved around them, keeping his distance from the enemy. 

The beastly assailant was not afraid of his predicament. He turned and leaped at the Myrmish with outstanding agility, but he was severely wounded and ever so sluggish. 

Theaiss appeared rested and moved like water. He slid under the Wildling and drew his shiny silvery cutlass. No repose came from the blade, except a single tap of the flat that left none wanting.

"Impressive," Theaiss mocked.

The Wildling roared and spun, swiping wildly. The steel hand glanced against the dancing silver blade time and again.

 The Myrmish swordsman effortlessly predicted every movement, every strike, and countered. Velwrith watched in shock for a moment before he noticed the shell around his friend's neck glowing ever so softly, a nearly invisible spellwork surrounding it.

 Suddenly it was apparent; Theaiss looked into the future and reacted to it, a move copied straight from the powers of The Stargazer.

Reality came crashing back as the Wildling wheeled again, falling on the Lightbringer himself. Furious swipes carried a repulsive magnetic wave rendering steel useless against them. Reflex alone got the shield from his back and the handle in his grip before the razor claw could tear him to shreds. With his boundless strength fading, he put all his might in simply not buckling.

 The relentless attack ended suddenly as the claws shot backward, digging at the thick black cord coiling around the brigand's neck. A salt-stained boot struck the pale bandit on the small of the knees, collapsing him forward as the privateer pulled the cord tighter.

 He fell on Velwrith,  grabbing his shield and dragging him to the ground as well. They thrashed for a moment before the cord, and Theaiss pulled them apart. Desperate, the bandit still squirmed.

Suddenly, violently he turned, slashed at Theaiss's feet, and launched his steel hand at Valasta. Meanwhile, with trained precision, his other hand pulled the pistol from his belt and fired at Velwrith. 

 A fraction of a second too late, Theiass kicked him in the head, swearing at an inevitability.

The bullet caught Velwrith in the breastplate and carried enough force to knock him back. He did not realize how far, however, as the world kept spinning long after the landing. 

Pain from his belly side and side mingled with a throbbing in the back of his head. The taste of metal was all he could clearly distinguish as sounds became distant echoes and light blurred shapes spun around him. Finally, instinctually, but with a great effort, he pulled himself to his knees, yanked off his helm, and vomited.

Far from everything in his mind, Velwrith regretted not accepting Shingee's apprenticeship; He decided none of this would have happened if he had attended wizard school.

Then darkness took him in earnest, and he fell facedown in his own sick.