As Einar neared the mouth of the cave, Raven rushed out past him, running out into the middle of the soon-to-be-fray - a gauntlet'd hand stretched out, steel entrapped digits reaching out to try and grab the woman and keep her back, but before the warrior could do so the Lady Dragonheart was gone, foolishly exposing her presence and jeopardizing any plans Vahn might have been forming as he approached the Behemoth of a warrior. Softly, the White Wolf cursed as he moved forwards silently, making sure the shadows of the tunnel kept him from the sights of the various combatants outside.
It was then that Einar felt the invisible force around him - at first, the warrior would have slashed with Fenrir and rended whatever being was near him to pieces ... yet, Einar stayed his blade. The presence didn't feel hostile. Infact, it seemed to be aiding the wounded warrior, his wounds slowly knitting - the remnants of the poison being drawn out. Although he could not be sure, the warrior could have sworn that this was an act of Lord Demise.
The Knight-Protector then reached up, triggering the fast-release of his pack, the bag falling to the ground with a thud. The warrior then knelt down, opened the back and reached inside. Any moment now, Einar knew that he would be needed, and the warrior would be ready. Various objects were lifted from the bag, and once satisfied Einar would rise, casting his grey eyes to the various warriors ... It was then that the warrior witnessed the Behemoth Darkthorne leap and attack Vahn - the Lord Demise evading the attack with an ingenious form of magic. Einar couldn't help but grin slightly at the man before he too, charged forwards. Right arm drew back, and then whipped forwards, a few small spheres leaving his hand as he did so, slicing through the sky to land at the epicenter of the upcoming battle.
Once those objects hit the sand, the spheres would burst open with a small explosion, a dense, black smoke rising up from the metallic spheres to encompass the combatants and - hopefully - disorient the Behemoth of the Darkthorne enough to send him soaring over the crevace Vahn seemed to be guiding him to. Even as those spheres flew, Einar himself would be charging forwards - his onslaught presided not by a mighty battle cry or a savage howl, but rather by silence. The warrior of Velusia would take his enemies by surprise. Legs pumped, and Fenrir pulsated but Einar did not release himself to the darkness, did not allow himself to become the Half-Lycal form that ripped and tore and slaughtered. Einar would not become that beast, unless the situation grew too dire.
Fenrir flashed up, and then the sword came down - the mighty steel of Fenris-Wolf slashing down to cleave the only threat left in two ... Tempest.