Yew made the motions and a will of the wisp was conjured into being, with another motion the orb of light flew into the male sellswords face. He was blinded and the female sellsword was startled long enough for Yew to make a second motion and threw a bolt of silver light at the female sellsword. She fell to her knees clutching her face as burns appeared.
Yew thanked the gods he had prepared the cantrips, Will of the Wisp and Moonfire. Yew took out his bow and notched an arrow, finishing off first the female and then the male.
"You've got a lot of tricks up your sleeve don't you?" The Breton said, staggering towards him. The thorn was now out of his body and he had stopped bleeding. Judging by the fact the Imperial mage was standing right beside him, he was pretty sure how he had accomplished that trick.
"Us druids make up for our unconventional casting style with versitality." Yew said.
"I've heard tell of that. Thing is, a conventional mage can outlast you. And I've built up more knowledge of magic than a mere apprentice in my time." The Imperial mage woman said.
"Ha. I'd like to see you try. Messing with a druid, even an apprentice like me...it's a mistake. Especially since you don't know what I can do." Yew said.
"You don't know what I can do either, Initiate." The mage said, her eyes sparkling.
"By the Eight, I don't know whether to leave you alone to duel or to fuck. All I know is that the two of you can do either. I have other business to attend to." The Breton said. Yew turned his bow to the Breton, he couldn't let him escape, or harm someone else.
However, the Imperial mage had gotten in his way.
"You will deal with me, Initiate. And we will fight with magic alone. Unless you don't trust in your magical ability." The Imperial mage said. Yew smirked and relaxed his bow, before putting it and his arrow back in his quiver.
"If you want a magic duel. A magic duel you will get." Yew said. He had never felt more alive then this moment.
Grog was incredibly strong. Stronger then Ivan, that much was certain. Every time their blades clashed Ivan got the worst of it. Grog also liked to punch and kick and knee and headbutt Ivan any chance he got. The nordic swordsman was being battered. It wasn't a sensation he felt very often.
"You're a good fighter, Grog. A good brawler. Better then me." Ivan said.
"Ha. I never knew you to be one to talk during a fight. Or to admit weakness." Grog said.
"I'm not. But you forced my hand. I have a tremendous amount of respect for you Grog. As a fighter." Ivan said.
"Oh?" Grog said.
"But you are pathetic as a man. You do yourself a great disservice by obeying anybody who has you by the leash. By killing and raping when ordered. You don't lack a conscience, but you lack moral courage. I don't know if that makes you better or worse then your masters." Ivan said.
"I just am who I am. Just like you." Grog said.
"I know. I'm a monster too, so I don't have much of a right to judge. But I'm trying to make amends." Ivan said.
"You'll never do it. Not if you live for a thousand years." Grog said.
"Your right. But there's one other thing that I need to criticize you for." Ivan said.
"What's that." Grog said.
"You're a good fighter, but you're a shitty swordsman. I could have killed you countless times, if I had been fighting on my terms. I don't mean to condescend, but it was good seeing how you fight. In another life, you could have killed me." Ivan said. Then Grog knew nothing but the cold bite of steal.
The problem Uthgerd was having, had nothing to do with the individual skill of the Sellswords she was up against. They weren't bad fighters, but Uthgerd could have easily taken them one on one. It was more that whenever one was close to being bested by Uthgerd, their friends would help them out. It would have been touching had they not been desperately trying to murder her.
Uthgerd fought one of the bastards over to a table, took a mug and hit it hard against his skull, making a thud and lowering his guard enough for her to skewer him, then she whirled around and decapitated the next nearest. One of them tried to stab her in the back, but she got the edge of a blade to the face for the trouble.
The last one fell to his knees and dropped his blade. Uthgerd hit him hard with her gauntleted fist. She didn't look down to confirm if he was dead or not. She didn't have time. She had to cut Greta free.
"Your a big girl aren't ya?" The Breton said. He had an oddly silky voice for a cutthroat. Would that he had been a bard instead. Uthgerd turned around.
"Strangely honorable for a man like you, to alert me instead of stabbing me in the back or slitting my throat." Uthgerd said.
"That would have been a feat. I barely come up to your arse. Might as well tell me to slit the Throat of the World." The Breton said.
"I suppose then that there is no point to me asking for your surrender." Uthgerd said.
"You could try." The Breton said.
"Surrender and you may still keep your life." Uthgerd said. The Breton looked to be in deep thought for several moments.
"Nah. I fancy my chances." The Breton said.
"Then I won't give you any mercy." Uthgerd said.
"Good. Likewise." The Breton said.