Against the Night

[Cyril]

Camille blinked and a field of chaos erupted around him; the jackal gripping his back and falling to his knees with a sharp grunt followed by a moan. Although penetrating his flesh; the bolts did not actually penetrate his cloak; which actually stopped them about halfway before they were pulled back with some blood dripping down his robes. He winced and gripped his side while his cloak hardened into a small, transparent dome. The armor he'd placed on Mort vanished as he was downed, and already the energy he'd sapped had to be used to heal himself over. Briefly he stood, stumbling slightly.

 The grass below the jackal withered as he leached what life he could; although most of it minuscule. His eyes fell upon the downed Neshar, who he came over and slowly cloaked over with both his cloak and body; grunting lowly as he looked down at the tired and paranoid figure beneath him; his dark eyes locked on the others as several bolts hit the hardened cloak; audibly bouncing off.

"Rest is more important than reconnaissance." He grumbled while he gripped the others shoulders with his own palms. He began to shove and heal what he could onto the other being; a low exhale and grunt as he visibly sweat. He ducked his head as a paining feeling would rock up the thief's body while the healing granted him some energy to move on and a partial cleanse of his wounds. Panting and looking up to him again; gaze a bit dimmer now. He spoke lowly, "End more lives, I'm going to need them. Now is not the time to show mercy."

Camille gasped slightly as the dome shattered; wincing down again at the dead grass beneath the pair. Shards of white crystal fell over the pair and ground before he stood, the cloak reforming into two bladed gauntlets and a torso armor around him. He took his gaze back at who had been shooting; huffing air and charging forward relentlessly after leaving behind Neshar, being too weak to use projectiles and hopping upon who had been dazed by Drake's blast.
A liquid red coated over his front as he stabbed continually at the other; the jackal's knees bruised and still trailing dead plant life below him,

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 The rock did very little to slow the bully down though when he took his swing, he missed, hands landing hard enough into the ground to cause a divot. He'd rear back again to try for another attack until the fox's words caused him to pause – so far as he was concerned the explanation was good enough until the group had been ambushed. Again, he would have gone for the fox for lying until the man attacked the assailants that were currently wreaking havoc upon the group. There was no way he could have caused the ambush if he was attacking the men as well.

 
Mort let out an annoyed growl. There was too much going on so far as he was concerned – too much to piece together what was happening, and so it was time to hit first and piece together what was happening later when the dust settled. A choice he wasn't necessarily fond of, but had to follow through with anyway. At Camille's comment, the bully raised his fists and slammed down on the assailant pinned below the fox, ending his life with a sickening wet crack. After that, he'd put his head down again and charge, blood hardened again to take out as many soldiers as possible, or at least put them off balance.

[Xavier Akafur]

Xavier whirled in a circle when it became clear that the initial assault was focused upon the others, taking quick stock of the situation at hand. The rest of their group had jumped into action, either to defend themselves or their comrades. Which meant he was the only one granted a moment of thought before the battle commenced. Neshar appeared out of the shadows in the nick of time, deflecting what would likely have been fatal surprise attacks against Drake, who in turn skipped forward with unnatural speed and began unleashing his magic. Those foes were dangerous, to be sure. Neshar deftly took unnaturally quick jabs at one of the men, who deflected the first attack, clearly caught off guard, the second strike sparking off of the guarding blade and piercing the man's head. He dropped to the ground, perhaps not dead but certainly out of the fight. The second almost managed to strike a blow before he had to jump back several times in succession to keep away from the fiery pillars of the fox-coon roaring towards him.


Camille was up and standing before the third volley of bolts could be loaded, his glowing blades finding easy purchase in the marksman in front of him, though the man was agile enough to avoid being fatally wounded he was being sorely pressed into retreating by the magical blades, vainly using his hand crossbows to deflect what blows he could not fully avoid. He looked to his partner for help, only to find that he was being swiftly chased away by pillars of fire.



The bladed whip of Dragonhawk deflected the magical bolts with surprising effectiveness, the glowing magic ricocheting wildly as it impacted the weapon. Where they hit the ground and trees they left smoldering impact marks, and withered any plant-life they touched. As Dragonhawk leapt forward into the trees, Xavier saw Mort and the stranger separate, the bully charging with equal recklessness into the oncoming soldiers. The line of the charge was suddenly broken apart by a blue pulse of magic from Drake, several of the men even leaving the ground as they all were tossed and rocked by the explosion.

Mort went headfirst into those still standing, crashing through a pair of them and receiving little more than a few nicks from panicked sword thrusts. The soldier's shields were of little effect against the juggernaut, and they both went over backwards into the ground as the terrier rushed them. Their armor made them hard targets, and they seemed to be little more than inconvenienced by being knocked over.

It was there that Xavier saw the opening. Side-stepping a bolt of magic that came whizzing out of the trees towards him, the front of his coat smoking slightly from the proximity, he righted himself and ran full tilt after the hell hound. "Break through!" He yelled forward, though whether his voice carried to any of his companions over the roar of battle was hard to say. More magic missiles came out of the tree-line, at all members of the party now, the hidden mages seeming to have abandoned whatever shot-calling had directed the initial volley. Bolts of virulent wildfire rushed to meet those necrotic incantations as Xavier summoned his own inherent magic, the two theurgies colliding mid-air and producing spectacular burst of destruction. Those missiles flying overhead for Mort were largely destroyed, the otter-wolf having to use the flames summoned along his paw to directly swat one missile that managed to reach him. It exploded with violent destructive power mere feet from his body, but as the magical energy cleared he appeared largely unharmed even by that proximity, his arm protected by the force of his own magics.

After each attack the hybrid appeared to swell in power, the flames of his magic licking up his arms and his strides turning from a run into a slow and deliberate advance as he neared the battle. He reached Mort's side, ruthlessly and efficiently putting fireballs into the downed bodies of a pair of soldiers, the kinetic force of which pushed their bodies deeper into the ground by several inches and dented their armor like the the sledge of a giant, smoke and flames roiling from their certainly dead bodies. The berserker's expression was dark, but there was a hint of pleasure as the destructive power of his magic was brought to life. Xavier reveled in battle and violence, and even taking the lives of potential innocents could not dull that thrill.

A crossbow bolt whizzed past, punching a hole clean through his left ear, barely missing its mark. The mage winced and turned to see three more of the assassins had materialized between himself and their back line. Sobering up from the battle-lust that had been taking hold he quickly realized that their plan had been to cut them off from the start. Blood trickled from his punctured ear down across his cheek, and he grinned, the shock fading and the thrill of the fight taking hold once more as pain throbbed through his head. Good. He didn't want this to be too easy.

[Drakeyboy]

Drake was grinning now as he could see the battle unfold. He could tell how things would play out. And it didn't look good. Drake quickly decided to tighten the group again, or force all the enemies to show. either or it didn't matter. Drake did notice where the mages were shooting from and quickly tossed a few fireballs into their surrounding brush. Striking up a fire behind the mages to force them into the open. Neshar and Camille should be able to take care of the last assassin behind him so he quickly charged into the new assassins that showed using his cone of flames to make a smoke screen of sorts against the trio, until he got closer. Once he did get in close he would toss a throwing dagger assisted with telekinesis at the new archer aimed for his chest and slash at one of the swordsman assassin's legs with a newly formed sword, again assisted with telekinesis. If he would try to block it with a flimsy rapier like the other assassins had it would quickly become scrap.

[AJ Fawxe]

The kitsune took a long step back then took several small steps back as the bully charged towards him then arched his brows in surprise as the bull crushed the enemy he had disabled. The fox had not planned on killing him, merely leaving him as indisposed as he was. All the same, this did mean that the brute was not against him.


Watching as the bull charged off towards the other mysterious opponents the fox nodded softly to him and carefully made his way closer to the group. If things got to heavy he didn't want to be surrounded by only these mysterious assailants. As unsure as he was of the trustworthiness of this aggressive bunch, there was the old adage 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Unfortunately, the fox found himself surrounded sooner than he'd expected and in a hurry to escape the enemies around him he delved into his known spells. There was a spell that he half remembered, and the more he pulled at it the more it became clear.

There was a sudden surge of warmth and his marks let out a surge of blue fire that didn't seem to burn him or his clothing as something slightly different flowed into his mind. Without thinking he held an open paw aloft and then clenched it sending a wave of pain through the enemies closest to him. The foxes eyes were glowing as he turned towards the nearest enemy and struck him hard in the temple with his staff. The force of the strike combined with the surge of psychic energy sent him careening to the side and onto his paws and knees. The pain seemed to be persisting and the others looked nauseous, but still ready to fight. Knowing that time was of the essence the fox charged the next one and aimed directly for it's gut, hoping to agitate his stomach that seemed to be queasy from the pain that was flowing through it.

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 As usual, everything seemed to happen in a blur; it was hard to direct and redirect in the chaos, but before the canine knew it Xavier was at his side. Glancing behind him, he wore a small smirk at the bodies that littered the area behind them – teamwork was one hell of a weapon. It would continue to carry them through accordingly so long as they could continue moving forward, though he was sure the men that materialized in front of them would not be so foolhardy as to let him charge headfirst into them once more. They'd seen that trick and would be ready for it if that's how it happened again. Mort was sure of that.

 
The bully merely stood at attention in front of them, perhaps waiting for a move – and when one of the men shot, it was all that he needed to get going again. Without hesitation, the bully drew his axe out and in one smooth motion, hurled it horizontally at the line of assassins in front of them, letting go of the handle as it swung forward at the men's torsos; it wasn't necessarily a move to hurt so much as distract, but he'd take whatever result he could get – if the axe knocked into the men, the bully would be on top of them before they could gather their wits. If they moved to dodge the blade, he'd mirror their movements and help cut them off, allowing Xavier to take whatever was left.

 
Either way, as he made his move, the blood from the stray nicks and cuts seemed to burble up at their sites and move in one smooth rivulet to the terrier's knuckles. There, the blood collected and began to spike in various formations – they'd harden into what looked like knuckle dusters with various large points – it almost looked as if Mort had shards of black glass protruding from his knuckles.

[tangletail]

Neshar… suddenly found himself being engulfed by a magic cloak and invigorated. He listened to the other’s advice, then snorted just as he received enough energy to keep himself going. The blurring and the brightening of his vision certainly died down, letting him see normally again.

“I’m pretty sure mercy is the last thing I show when I aim at a guy’s head…” the thief sighed as he now returned to his feet. His eyes glanced down to his original foe. He located only one puncture wound… on the head. Too much blood to confirm the kill however. He could coup de grace the assailant… but he had a feeling he’d need him for later. Better to ensure he stays alive till he’s no longer needed.

The feline quickly thrusted the court sword downwards, first striking the male’s left elbow then impaleing his right knee. And… just to be sure he wasn’t going anywhere soon, the feline pushed down harder till the hilt was touching the leg… acting as a method to nail him to the ground.

“Cloaker Neutralized…” he commented to himself. His gaze shifted to the few fire balls Drake had launched out. He watched their trajectory as his body was engulfed in a dark magic that quickly took him away from sight. It didn’t take long to relocate himself in a different location of the field, granting him vision on the mages that had been pushed forward by the spells. The cloaked feline withdrew his bow and pulled three hefty explosive arrows from his quiver. He fired each one in quick succession at an arch. And each one tore through the air, letting their presence be known by a very distinct high pitch whistling sound as they careened down in front of the group of fleeing mages.

“He wanted brutality… I’ll give it to him…” The feline mumbled direly as he quickly weaved out of the trees and tore through an unsuspecting victim’s throat with his dagger.
The thief was no stranger to war. And it definitely showed in his craftsmanship. As the bombs exploded into a ball of fire… its victims would find that’s not the most dangerous aspect of It unless they happened to be close. No… it was the steel ball bearings, and other scrap metal the feline had shoved inside next to the casing. Those would launch out and rip apart anyone who just happens to be unfortunate enough to be in it’s targeted range.

And amidst the carnage, the thief was back in the fray once more… this time his target being the straggling assassin.

[Eden-H]

A few seconds later and Dragonhawk would have been a part of the mages being assaulted from afar, only having enough time to backpedal when he had heard the distinct whistle of Neshar's explosive arrows. Of course, backing off so quickly also brought the cadaver currently attached to his sword/whip along for the ride, a matter he quickly rectified. "Do these men even know how to fight as a team?" He murmured. Exhaling slowly, he quickly gauged the direction the battle was taking.


From what he could see, the majority of men were either engulfed in flames or fleeing from the powerful magics that were being thrown at them. Others simply lay on the scorched earth, either dead or simply incapable of moving. Blood either pooled around corpses or spattered against trees as each group member tore the enemy apart, batting them aside as though it were nothing. Dragonhawk's muzzle creased into an ever-growing frown as he watched, noting that the few who remained untouched were those that marched with the warrior wielding the heavy shield and mourning star. Bedecked in plate armor, he knew well enough that he wouldn't be able to tear through it. And the way his shield gleamed...


Barely able to resist the shudder that wished to take hold as he peered at that unnatural armament, he tore his gaze away and leapt back into the treeline. Climbing so he may gain a superior vantage point without the downside of being caught flying in open air, he would wait until the moment he deemed best to lash out with a rift. When that time made itself present, he would quickly open and close several at once, either dropping foolhardy men from the sky or unleashing his companions on the few who did not expect a blade in the back.

[Cyril]

The jackal continued to pound the corpse and stood with a snarl; his long hair partially covering his face and obscuring his vision. Coated in a layer of blood, his armor continued to take shots. He fell into a stagger, wincing as he took three more hits. One by one they hit his armor, causing the shatter to ring out for a second time as the canine fell forward and onto his knees. His hands on the ground, he coughed up the slightest amount of blood on the dead grass beneath him.

He was siphoning from the death around him, but it wasn't enough to sustain past all the damage he was being exposed to. He had put himself in a really bad position while rashly charging upon the dazed assailant previously. A sharp yelp filled the air as he felt another bolt hit his side, gritting his teeth and slamming his fist upon the dead grass. Another dome formed around him, and he gripped his side while he panted. The others would continue, but Camille looked upon his bloodied robes. His hand prying at the bolt, wincing and yelling out inside of his crystal prison while he tore out the flaming hot projectile. His magic began to do its work, but he gripped his forehead with his seared hand. A slight tremble kept him unsteady as he heard the sounds of his allies and enemies fighting around him.


His beads were potent from all of the life he'd leeched, but the pain was enough to keep him out. When his dome shattered and reformed in his armor over his torso and thighs, he staggered and took a bladed swing at a man who was already lurching in pain. He tilted his head, his armor again stained in the blood of a soldier as he turned his gaze to a newer fellow; a fox who was radiating blue flame. Though evidently not skilled in hand to hand, the jackal locked eye contact; bladed arms raised as he grit his teeth. Striking another mage while in magic armor was definitely a move he wasn't going to do blindly. He cracked his neck slightly, another man dropping and his cuts healing visibly(although at a slower rate than when he focuses); energy allocated mostly to keeping him and his armor standing as for once he kept his allies out of gaze, and set his sights on this new stranger.


Although his narrow gaze was normally far from friendly, skepticism was clear. An ally, or a part of the enemy forces? Then again, the group didn't have a clear enemy, the enemies were just anyone against them. He kept himself defensive, though his arms were up and ready to strike. His primary thought was to keep the fox away from anyone besides him and Mort; he narrow eyes wincing slight as the gem-like material his armor was made from easily dropped a few stray shots. He wasn't going to let the defense shatter again.

[Xavier Akafur]

As the two front-line fighters paused to assess their newest foe, the otter-wolf took an extra moment to track the trajectory of several arrows that were being fired from cover of foliage, noting that the enemy seemed to be focusing on removing Camille from the fight more than dealing with the rest of the group. In fact, aside from the trio of assassins that had appeared before them, Mort and himself had hardly been slowed in their progress. The mage briefly considered turning back to assist the healer, though leaving Mort alone in this fray would certainly put the canine in peril despite his supernatural tenacity.

The thought was cut short as Mort hurled his axe at the men, causing them to dive aside. Indeed, the one in the middle of the three had nowhere to go, and it seemed the axe would cut clear through his midsection, but as the blade arced around for the kill it caught nothing but a wisp of dark smoke. The assassin reappeared almost instantly to the right of the pair, hand crossbow raised to take a shot at the charging hellhound. The bolt released, but not before a glimmering shield of silver magic was cast between the pair, like a ribbon of light. The bolt struck the magical barrier harmlessly, clinking like it had hit hard glass, and spinning away wildly. The following fireball would have dealt the man another fatal blow, but again the bolt met nothing but smoke. The intense magical energy collided with a tree down range, splintering the trunk with its force and causing it to slowly topple over.

 Xavier, one paw now glowing a brilliant white while the other still burned with a fiery orange light, was left looking back and forth, searching for the teleporting opponent. The hybrid was clearly expending a lot of energy unleashing so many spells in such short order, his breathing heavy and his shoulder starting to show the slightest signs of sagging as the blood from his ear matted the fur on the side of his face. A bolt of magic came sailing in at the hybrid from his blind side, while the assassin reappeared to his left, rapier pulled back for a thrust. Unaware of the missile, the hybrid turned towards the assassin, leading with a heavy haymaker utilizing his burning fist.

Meanwhile, the other two assailants were on their feet before Mort could get to them, though the sudden appearance of his blood-formed weapons made them seem to think twice about attacking the brute head on. Skilled as they were, they both backpedaled swiftly to avoid getting into his reach, that is until Drake came at them from their flank, appearing out of a screen of magical flames. The dagger that was tossed moved with unnatural speed, kicking up sparks as one of the skilled assassin's deflected the dart with his sword. The man did not account for the magical speed of the attack, however, and while he deflected it it still cut a deep gash across his shoulder as it flew past. The other man barely had time to throw his hand crossbow and pull his dagger before the fox-coon was on top of him, aiming a slash for his legs. He did indeed try to block the blow with his dagger, countering with a deft stab of his rapier at the fox-coon's throat, intending to finish the mage quickly.

The forest was ablaze in several location at this point, mostly due to the fox-coons rampant use of fire magic, and while several of the mages had fled onto the open field, most of them had their wits about them enough to continue volleying spells at the group. Unfortunately for them, the high pitched whistle of explosive arrows was difficult to detect while casting spells, and several of them were immolated on the spot by the explosions, while several more were shredded by shrapnel. A few necrotic bolts continued to fly from the foliage, but the number had been severely diminished.


Dragonhawk's brief observations would yield to him that the apparent commander of this group of fighters was carefully watching the battle unfold, and as he watched, redirected his course towards Drake, who was primarily responsible for breaking their formations. The group of soldiers at his back fanned out behind him. Out of the group of eight additional men, four of them were archers, who continued to fire shots at Camille as they marched, keeping him from fully recovering his strength even amidst all of the death and destruction. Seeing the tide of battle turning against them, the mace-wielding captain urged his men forward, and they came on at a full charge at the front-line of the group. The archers, seeing that their attacks were no longer as effective against Camille's armor, also switched targets, raining missiles down on Mort and Drake.

Soldiers rushed at the unexpected third party, the psychic suddenly under assault from half a dozen armored men. Whether because he was closer or because they feared the destruction that the terrier had inflicted upon their comrades and hoped to find an easier foe was difficult to say. Several bolts of magic came sailing his direction as well, the blue flames that had sparked up around him making him a clear target to the remaining nearby mages.

[AJ Fawxe]

The psychic looked around and saw the men moving towards him and saw the mages turn their attention to him. Cursing softly in sylvan he held his arms up before his face and flared his aura, trying to resist the spells being hurled at him. Should he feel the spells overcoming him he would burn through some of his own spiritual connection to send a surge of spirit energy through him. Once the dust had settled he focused on an image and a feeling and the spell he was looking for came to him flawlessly. His focus was shockingly on point considering he'd just received a multi-spell assault.


One paw reached into a pocket of his cloak and came out with a pinch of powdered iron between his fingers. Having focused the spell in his mind, there was no other outward sign of the spell being prepared, but the effects were visible. After several seconds the bit of iron shimmered and then went up in a spark and a small puff of smoke. The six armored soldiers and the few remaining targets of the wave of pain he'd released were suddenly overcome by a diminishing feeling. If they failed to resist the magic as it flowed over them, they would suddenly feel themselves shrink to half their size. Their armor and their weapons would shrink with them, leaving any of those subjected to the spell severely disadvantaged.


"You should run," the fox spoke strongly, though the edge of holy purpose had diminished since the last time he spoke. Rapping one end of his staff on the ground, he growled angrily at them. The phantom fire was brighter than before and there was a hint of a glow towards the back of his throat when he spoke. "NOW!"

[Drakeyboy]

In Drake's opinion the bolt that the one mage fired seemed to be panicked a little making it a easy dodge. Well easy for him. Drake would keep using his telekinesis to lower himself quickly and very low to the ground almost parallel with it actually. Making him avoid the deadly stab and the bolts all together. But he wouldn't leave nothing for the archer before he went and cut the melee attackers legs off he flung more fire to the archer. As the sword was blocked Drake would do his best to simply try and lower his sword around the dagger to have it slice through the assassin's legs. If it didn't work it would simply be just a high speed tackle that would probably break the assassin's legs.

[tangletail]

It seems that he was a bit late on the ball when it came to the assassin that fell behind. It appears that camile had already taken care of the little bugger. However, not without taking some sustained fire… enough to cause the thief some serious concern. Just as the archers turned their attention away. The feline had appeared at the male’s side, with both hands raised up.
 
 “Friendly~” He hummed out in a sing song manner. His  hands quickly dropped down. One tapped his bag, and in just two heart beats, he had produced a fist sized bottle of some viscous tar black, tinted red fluid. Neshar tapped at his own maw, before tossing the bottle to Camile. “You look like shit. Drink up. Take a knee. Make it count. I only got one more.”
 
And with that… the feline quickly spun and hurled the stolen arming sword into the air towards the archers. He let the momentum carry him as he spun further, and flicked out one of his charged daggers towards the archers… this time aiming for the ground on the other side of the flames. As his spin came to an end, he found himself now facing the kitsune.
 
 ‘Oh… great… one of –these- things…’ the thief thought to himself dryly as he looked him up and down. Finally he shook his head and pointed to him. “You! If you’re friendly, make sure the lovely anu here lives please! If not, or he’s dead. You get an unmeasurable array of blades in your skull~”
 
 With that… the feline vanished, and reappeared once more. The sword he had thrown… was more of a distraction than something that could have killed. As it finally came spiraling down to the ground, it clunked one of the archers on the head. Fortunately for the archer… the most it would have done is knocked him out cold. As for the rest…
 
 Neshar rushed their locations through the flames with a hellish yowling warcry. He was low and swooping in a bizarrely quick serpentine path. Trails of smoke, and whispy aura trailed from behind him as he moved. The skull of his mask was the only thing that was definintely visible before he made his assault. With daggers drawn, and clinched like punching knives. He made his first punch at the nearest archer’s throat, before swooping through the group in a haphazard manner. The way he worked… the group looked as if they were in a storm… where the lightning strikes were only the flurries of stabs the feline had made… and blood would be it’s precipitation.

[Cyril]

"Keep it. Just keep killing, I'll be fine." He grumbled to the thief, forcefully pushing the other's potion back. Before his ears twitched at the yelling of the strange new mage he was facing. Neshar was quick to disappear, though the jackal's focus was brought on again by the swelling blue flames before him. Getting hit by a blast, he snaled and was launched back a bit. It was evident that he himself was being carried by his armor at this point, though he winced and stood back up, regenerating his burns after a bladed gauntlet found itself at the head of another foe.


Though tired and very cranky, the mass death of the situation charged up the priest's beads quite a bit. Beneath his armor, the beads on his robes glowed brilliantly, though his attention was turned to the squishier members of his party once the darts had stopped flying to him. Though, as he looked on he found his allies were in quite fine positions and doing well enough for him to neglect. Standing up again, he once more faced the fox mage; crystal reforming its cracks as opponents fell.

He approached once more and grunted lowly, his ears down and teeth grit. "You're going to find that a lot of people won't run."

[Goblin Cat 😸]

With two wide swings, Mort missed the both assassins thanks to their backpedaling. He let out a growl and continued to move forward despite their retreat, this time waiting until he was closer to take his shots. It was by pure luck that Drake managed to take them by surprise – a good distraction so far as the bully was concerned. While the foxcoon took on one of the two, Mort reached out for the other attempting to grab at his throat to hold him still.

It was then he felt an arrow strike his shoulder. Despite the pain, it did little to stop him from striking the assassin in his hand so much as it fueled his irritation and rush to assault. Even with the others shooting at him, it was a peripheral irritation at best, his blood hardening once more to keep the shots from piercing him too deeply while he finished off the assassin in his hand by striking him repeatedly in the face while tightening on his windpipe.

After he dropped the dead man, he would dip down on one leg and move his arms upward, causing some of the nearby fire to coil around him, dancing on his fur to serve a sort of shield around him – it wouldn't stop the arrows, but he hoped it would at least negate the magic bolts – or at the very least deter any more soldiers from attacking him head on. He was an intimidating sight to say the least; a flaming brawler with boiling shards sprouting from his knuckles.