Caithryth hit the wet dirt belly first with a thump that almost knocked the wind out of her. Despite the storm she swears she heard the corroded tip of the undead's spear swing just over her back. Her fingers dig into the earth, as she's crawling madly forward, trying to reach the sword she has dropped earlier. She feels the ... thing behind her turning around, with deadly intent, just as her fingers feel the familiar hardness of the leather-wrapped hilt. Driven by pure panic she rolls onto her back, pointing the steel upwards and extends her arm in a desperate thrust. The tip breaks bone as it bites through century old leather and sinks into the empty chest cavity of the animated corpse, just as it raising its spear with both skeletal hands. Suddenly, all the unnatural tension leaves the fiend and the spear clatters to the ground as its bones begin to crumble and shatter, showering her in a skeletal rain.
"Enough. I will deal with them." The female voice, heavy with anger, is clearly audible over the sounds of combat and the biting rain. Caithryth lowers her arm with which she shielded her face from dirt and bone and rolls around to get to her feet again. Around her, the battle fades as more and more skeletons crumble to dust or disappear back into the earth. The voice belongs to a tall, female figure, clad in black mail and chain. Domruth, without her helm, lets her waist long hair flowing gracefully in the wind. Her features could be described as stunningly beautiful, where it not for the smile that betrays cruel and outright evil intentions. As do her weapons, two curved swords.
The company stops in their tracks, many hesitate, or take steps back, as if stunned by beauty or dread. Caithryth rolls to her side, picking up her lost short steel in the process, and pushes herself to her feet again, to close ranks with the others. Her eyes meet with those of their foe, as she is the only one who keeps approaching, despite her smirk filling her with unease. The exchange of blows lasts for a few heartbeats, as she meets Domruth's charge, meeting the ferocious assault of her twin blades with her own steel to the best of her ability. Despite this, more than once, the curved blade bites through chain and leather for some painful cuts. The sounds of combat forces the remaining fighters out of their stupor, and as they rally behind Fiontann, they quickly begin to move out to surround the long-haired warrioress, who seems to be mostly unaffected by the swords, arrows and axes.
Lightning strikes one of the crumbled turrets on the far side of the plateau and the earth begins to tremble violently, causing the brave company to fight to stay on their feet. One by one warriors are losing their balance, only Mornenion atop a ruined wall and Caithryth manage barely to stay on their feet. Unaffected by all of this, their enemy charges those left standing. Caithryth was not at all prepared and got sliced up left and right by deep, vicious strikes that send blood flying. She staggers back, before her instincts take over in the last second, bringing her sword up in time to deflect a killing blow down into the earth, using the opening to thrust her short steel foward, just as another heavy blow hits her pauldron, sending searing pain through her entire arm that almost knocks her unconscious. A kick sends her reeling backwards, as the blind warrior is looking for another victim, charging the elf, atop the crumbling wall.
Numb with pain but carried by anger, Caithryth brushes off Piorra's hand and concern and half walks, half stumbles over to rejoin the others in the fight, as Domruth has now set her sights on the elven archer. Almost blackening out, more and more of her vision tunnels onto their opponent that she sees clearly turning her back on her. Capitalizing on this opportunity she is striking more with raw strength than her usual adroitness. Just before the blow would connect Fiontann calls something out, and she sees Arthasdir in front of her, where Domruth just was, barely managing to block her wild swing. Both of them recover from this confusion, focusing their efforts with the others on their commong foe. Strike by strike, she is beginning to show signs of weaknesses.
Then, the dense stormclouds come in closer, covering everything in unnatural darkness. "She is not ready yet!" The voice fills their ears, as if it comes from all sides. Then the darkness subsides, as does the storm after a last cacophony of thunder and lightning, leaving the company as the sole witnesses of the battle atop the otherwise unchanged weathertop.
