Siege on the City of Heroes - West, Part 1(EVENT)

[Marric]

You heard the lady, boys! So much had happened, and Marric was too pumped up with adrenaline to make sense of it all, but he knew enough to know what he had to do. I need volunteers! Quickly a team of "throwers", and another of "Projectiles" were made. It would take too long to carve their way through the remaining bandits in the line, so Marric had the bright idea; Why don't we just throw people over them? It was simple, the six he'd gathered to be thrown stood with him, and all seven men ran forward toward their throwers who gave them some extra force to be thrown over the shield wall and line of bandits; landing directly behind the ruffians.

Marric knew that staying there was suicide, and thus ran behind the enemy line, along with the five men who had landed safely; one had landed badly and was killed by a bandit, and ran to help Tamaya. This drew even more bandits from the front line to follow, which made the defenders' jobs at the shield wall a bit easier. Marric and his men fought as they ran toward Tamaya's group, literally carving their way through a few bandits going to help their comrades against the sacaen nomads. They had the group in a pincer and Marric was driving forward with all his might to crush the brigands between it. The threat of the handful of bandits that broke off the main group to follow Marric's team was looming, unbeknownst to the Ilian Mercenary and his men. But they easily made their way close to Tamaya's position, and left plenty of bodies in their wake.

[Richter Abend]

OoC: Marric, to go OVER enemy lines is like 30 feet. You landed in the middle of them. You are in deep. Fight well.

"We should hurry, we need to get into this town yesterday."

"Right," nodded Richter in confirmation. Every second they wasted out here was a second for their window through the enemy lines to close. So the Ilian readied his horse to close the distance between himself and the wall, but as he turned to face the city, the pink haired warrior noticed a group of men leap from the wooden palisade straight into the throngs of invading soldiers. One of them died before his feet could even touch the ground. Richter balked at the sight. What were they, insane? Richter could see the men begin to fight their way back to the wall, clearly trying to meet the offensive that had noticeably begun to push out from the city, but bandits were quickly closing in on them from all sides like a swarm of locusts.

The Ilian's first thought was to charge in to help the suicidal men, but halted himself. By the time he could get to the squad they'd be torn to pieces. He had more pressing concerns at hand. He needed to get to Kenshin. Richter cursed under his breath at the stupidity, then snapped the reigns of his mount and galloped into the narrow channel between the poorly formed bandit "regiments". Like a bolt of lightning, the warrior's steed weaved back and forth through the dirty bandit horde. The path was clear, but not without resistance. But as men stepped out to from their positions to dismount him, they quickly found themselves downed by the sharp, cold bite of the pinked haired Ilian's axe. Body after body fell to the ground, parts of them severed and other parts frozen. Richter's advance would not be stopped.

But the bandits would try. As he came within feet of the base of the wall, Richter found himself confronted by a line of heavily armored knights, all armed with thick-hafted pikes with very dangerous looking heads. The Ilian could feel his steed rear up beneath him as it stamped and whinnied in frustrated fear. His horse wasn't going to try and get past this. He'd have to fight.

Richter grabbed the hilt of a sheathed Damonzahn, ready to clear these men out with a burst of dark magic, before quickly deciding against it. He remembered the nasty pain he had gotten last time, and Elias's words about "the price" of the Nether echoed in his head. He had no wounds to heal, and didn't need to deal with any more negative shocks right now. It was best not to mess with it. So Richter released his grip on the ebony sword, and instead placed both hands on the handle of his battleaxe.

"The North wind stops for no man..." Richter's voice was faint, inaudible through the din of battle around him, and all the pike-wielding men probably heard was the clashing of steel around before they saw Richter leap from his steed, bringing his axe down upon them.

[Elias]

Elias was doing what Elias' were known to do, cast magic and generally be impressive. He kept up a defensive front while Richter amassed a monumental offensive one, he was casting his own ice magics and together the battlefield began to appear more like a winter wonderland with icy winds blow to and fro, the chilly spirits of frost and wind were basically going nuts right about now between Richter's chillaxe and Elias' chilltome. As Richter drew more attention to his self, they drew more ire naturally. More people trying to snipe them, more people trying to run them down, more bandits intent on murdering them in a truly murderous fashion. If Elias wasn't using his icy magical wonderfulness to cover them from a hail of arrows aimed at their wonder, he was picking off stragglers that managed to slip by or Richter only mostly murdered. They weren't really good at the whole "not dying to magic" thing that many Elibeans seemed to be poor at. Unless you used magic yourself, or were freakishly powerful for no discernable reason, it seemed that magic kind of annihilated folks.

Though really Elias didn't have a whole lot of smiting going on about now, Richter was doing a good job blowing people up with freezy slicyness. There was something going on involving people falling from the sky or something, it seemed like the kind of plan Elias would come up with, only with not enough explosives. Which, naturally, made it unacceptable. There needed to be more explosions in general really, this battlefield was kinda boring as is. He missed his elfire tome really bad about now. Oh well.

Eventually they slowed down and were confronted by tin cans with people inside. It seemed silly, but that was the style these days it seemed. Wearing armor head to toe, probably useful if you're ugly since no one had to see your face. He assumed these men were ugly, after all they were bandits. He looked at the bandits, they had spear things that looked nasty and pointy. Red2 seemed to be taking them seriously, so Elias probably should too. Luckily Elias was a mage, so for him "serious" meant "stand twenty feet away and blast them with magic" instead of putting himself in the range of their pikes. Their armor didn't exactly do them a lot of good when his magic ripped right through it after all. It was weird, it was like the more armor someone wore the less likely they were to not be massacred by magic. Those pegasus riders though? Yeesh. Hanging around magic horses seemed to make spells bounce off you.

[Richter Abend]

The first pikeman was taken down instantly by Richter's jumping strike. Before he had a chance to react, the pink haired Ilian slipped past the shaft of his polearm, driving the frost axe into him. The blow smashed the soldier's armor which in turn crushed his collarbone and shoulder. Blood spurt from the cracks in the metal plating, and the man howled in pain as his arm was rendered useless. He tried to step back, to retreat from the source of the pain, but he was too slow. Before he could take a second step, he felt the cold touch of frostbitten steel tear into his thigh and force him to the ground.

Wrenching his axe from the soldier's howling figure, Richter assumed an offensive stance, his eyes searching for his next target like a wolf searching for its prey. Four to go, and they weren't going to stand around and let themselves be cut down. A second soldier thrust his pike at the crimson armored attacker, but the advanced was easily dodged by the veteran Ilian combatant. Richter stepped inward, elbowing the weapon out of the way, and pushed a palm strike squarely into the man's jaw. The armored fighter staggered back, giving Richter just large enough of a window to spot a third attack that had come whizzing into his peripheral vision. He ducked the swing, then responded with a hop-step into a low kick into the attacker's knee. The bandit buckled in response the the blow, wailing in pain and landing face first into the dirt. Pikes were long, slow weapons. These men were armed to fight cavalry, not footmen. Up close, they were the Winter Lion's to devour.

Off the battlefield, the pink haired Ilian was known for his stoic personality and calm visage, but on the battlefield Richter was like a ravenous beast looking to devour all he could. With the second knight still clutching his jaw and the third knight waist down in the mud, Richter charged the fourth knight. The bandit, ready to halt the Lion's assault, raised his shield and banged his pike against it in challenge. The Ilian was not impressed. Letting out a wild roar, Richter grasped the haft of his axe in both hands and swung it up over his head before bringing it down upon the defender's shield. The resulting sound rang over the din of the battle around them, but the shield knight did not budge. Damn. With as quickly as Richter had been able to disable the other pikemen, he had not been expecting one to actually be able to rebuff a direct hit, even with a shield.

The Ilian could feel an ire rise up in his chest as he prepared a second strike, and with it came another small hailstorm whirling up around his the head of his axe. But before he could strike another blow against the shield-wielding knight, Richter felt the shaft of a pike strike him on the shoulder, causing him to flinch in pain, albeit momentarily. The Ilian warrior knew he had broken the third knight's leg, so apparently the second knight was done nursing his jaw. No matter. Richter reached up, wrapped his hand around the pike, and jerked down hard on the weapon. He could feel the resistance on the other end, which meant the soldier wasn't about to let go. Perfect. Not skipping a beat, the crimson armored fighter swiveled around on his back foot and swung his axe upward in an arcing motion. The frosted steel bit of the double-headed weapon tore into the man's breastplate, ripping open his side, breaking his ribs, and unleashing a its payload of frozen death.

Long tendrils of ice flash-froze over the soldier's ice battered armor, and the man fell, like his comrades, to the ground, his hip and waist frozen solid by the strike. Now back to the final armored bandit. Richter turned around just in time to see the shield wielding knight charging at him with his pike leveled in a jousting position. Gritting his teeth, the Ilian stepped in front of the man's shield and braced himself for impact. There was less than a second before he felt the wood of the bandit's shield slam against his chest, but Richter was prepared. Shooting his right arm forward, he grabbed the collar of his opponent's breastplate and pulled hard. Then he planted his right foot and allowed his body to swivel out of the way like a door moving on a hinge. The charging knight, clearly not prepared for this maneuver, quickly found himself off balance and stumbling forward. Richter simply watched as the knight tripped face first into the dirt with a surprised grunt.

The bandit attempted to scramble to his feet, but by the time he got up to his knees he found himself slammed back into the ground by the solid weight of his opponent's foot on his back. Checkmate, Richter was tempted to say, but frankly it was barely even a contest.

"If this were a sparring match, I'd tell you to give up, but-"

Richter's taunt was cut off by a the glint of a sharpened blade slicing past his head. The combat had not gone unnoticed by the other bandits, and another invader had chosen to try his hand at downing the Winter Lion. A mistake by any definition of the word. The swordsman made for another strike, but little more than a blur, the Ilian's arm shot forward and grabbed his attacker's sword arm mid-swing and halting him in his tracks. Richter looked the swordsman in the eye. He was barely a man at all, still carrying the baby fat of a child on his face. What could Hargus be offering that was so enticing that children were fighting for him.

"Leave, or I'll..." the Ilian hardly got a word out before the swordsman went running off in the opposite direction, tail between his legs and practically tripping over himself as he ran. Richter shook his head. He couldn't finish a sentence without getting interrupted. "Now where was I?" He felt a push against his foot. Right, the shield-knight. This wasn't a sparring match. His foot still pinning his defeated foe to the ground, Richter leaned down and picked up a pike off of the ground. He angled the weapon at the nape of the man's neck, then, a midst incessant pleas for mercy, mercilessly drove the pike through the back of the man's skull. There was a shudder, then stillness. Dead.

"Right, then. Over the wall," said Richter, pointing his axe towards the palisade. He craned his neck to look at Elias, then noticed that his horse was gone. Spooked, most likely. It was probably for the best. After all, the beast hadn't been a warhorse. Hopefully, for it's own sake, it was long gone from here. "You need a boost?"

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While Richter made his way over the wall, the tides of battle ebbed and flowed. Tamaya's outward push found itself successfully rebuffing the group of bandits immediately surrounding the her area of the palisade, who had moved into a fitful retreat. They did not go without a fight, though, and their retreat was hardly all-out. Woe to those caught in the middle of the stampede. Still, it was a victory, however momentary, for the defenders.

"Don't run you dogs!" shouted Georg. Veins bulged in his forehead as his gaze flitted left and right, locking onto each bandit warrior that came running past. "Turn your asses back around and fight! Dammit!" A fury rose in Georg. His cavalry had been swiftly put to rest and the defending morale had been bolstered to the point where his own men were being pushed back! Those red riders were causing a mess. Especially that pinked haired bastard! He'd carved himself a path right up to the wall, right through Georg's men. And that magic wielding friend of his... The bandit captain would have to put a stop to this.

"Archers!" he shouted, raising an arm up in Elias's direction. "Let the arrows rain! Fire upon the red robed rider! Take him down!"

[Elias]

"You could have saved some for the rest of us." Elias always ready with a remark, but he was smirking all the same. Richter basically destroyed the bandit scum singlehandedly, something Elias could have done himself as well if he wanted too he was sure, but didn't really get to that point instead he just sat around like a particularly fabulous lump on a magical log of wonder. Also it was red. Richter's horse basically skedaddled, which wasn't an awful thing, he was definitely more clunky on horseback then on foot Elias had noticed. Not that he was bad on horseback or anything, he was just so much better with free mobility. Elias had to train specifically to fight well on a horse, and he doubted if it wasn't demon he'd have a much harder time, since him and demon were on the same 'wavelength' and could usually tell what the other was wanting to do before Elias even pulled on the reins. There's been more then one time the horse saved his life without him even realizing it.

"A boost?" He looked up at the fence, his eyes a bit... well worried isn't right, incredulous is probably a bit safer. Richter was a tall fellow, Elias, however, was not. Not that he was particularly short or anything, everyone else was just freakishly tall and he was completely average height. Point was, unless Richter intended on... tossing him or something, he doubted he'd make it up all the way. Also the top was pointed, so that's probably hurt his hands. Also it would mean leaving demon, which was simply not an option. Sure he could always 'rescue' his horse once he got inside but...

Thunk.

An arrow landed in the wall beside him, a few feet away, a bad shot to be sure but clearly one to be inferred as aimed at him.

Thunk.

Another one, this one closer. His eyes widened as he quickly moved and gathered magic.

Splorsh.

This one had hit home, not on him, but demon in his flank. The horse made a loud whinnying, and wriggled as if he was about to buck, but managed to keep his self from freaking out. Elias needed to move fast. Another thunk. An icy wind gathered about his hand, this one grazed his shoulder, as he brought it down. He grabbed at the air itself, as if he was grabbing hold of something physical, tangible. As tangible as that arrow that landed itself in his arm. He cringed in pain but gritted through it. He grabbed at the air and pulled back, with all his might, as a burst of ice exploded from the earths. Just in time for an arrow to smack its way into it. Then another, and another, and another. He pulled the wall up and over, like a shell of ice around him and demon. It moved up and curled until it touched the wall, trapping him in what looked like a little room of ice. Well the sides were open, but the entire area in front of him was encased to protect from arrows. Blood was running down his other arm as it laid limp, barely hold his staff in it. His main arm, however, kept the magic up for each arrow that thunked and clunked and jabbed and pierced at it. One after the other and the other, they were focusing entirely on him it seemed.

It was quick, he moved fast and had great reaction time, but still as quick as he was he couldn't prevented the arrows that hit their mark. He was in pain, his horse was in pain, and if he had moved any slower he'd be in dead. Ice magic continued to swirl about his hand, he didn't have time to get all fancy and use his staff like a magic baton. Just his bare hands, well, gloved hands. Arrows kept raining down, now more then ever because there was a big icy target for them to see and fire at.

"Richter!" He shouted. "I don't think I'll be able to make that boost!" He said with a laugh as he cringed. As soon as it got a bit less hectic, he'd heal his self, but right now he was more occupied with things like not dying. "You go on ahead, use my ice as a platform. As long as I'm focusing on it, it shouldn't break! Mind the arrows though!"

[Tamaya]

Tamaya watched with a triumphant and feral gaze, a strange expression on her usually docile face, as the bandits moved backwards, leaving the field immediately in front of her band clear. There were some losses, and a handful of wounds among her clansmen, but thankfully Marric was uninjured. "Marric! Cathecassa! Let us strike while the iron is hot! Let us rout the retreating bandit filth!" Tamaya was about to charge forward again, when she saw a Paladin in the center of the bandit mess, shouting and pointing. She followed his gaze to see... Ice. Erupting from the ground, forming a temporary shield over... Someone. It looked like one of the mysterious red horsemen that had erupted onto the battlefield. "Change of plans! Attack the archers! Save the defender encased in the icy shield!"

Tamaya looked at the group of archers. They were well protected, behind the bandit lines... It would be more straightforward to simply save the red rider and be gone. But she felt very strongly the implications of returning to their positions now. The battle was going well. They had to maintain the pressure and rout the bandits. Only a comprehensive sweep had the potential to halt the assault. Anything less, and the battle would drag on... And reinforcements might arrive.

"Attack!"

[Elias]

The shield was thick ice and he was safe. For a moment at least. He let out a chilly breath, feeling frigid as the ice around him made it quite cold. He shivered a bit, but he prefered being cold to being dead. Well barely. He took the arrows embedded in his flesh by the shaft, cringing and biting his lip as he quickly yanked out the wooden metally thing. Muting a moan of pain through clenched teeth, he pulled out the first. "Gah." He said on the exhale, he was a gentleman and gentlemen don't curse. Still if he did, he totally would right now. "I... Hate.... Archers...." He moaned as he grabbed the next by the shaft, breathing deeply and preparing himself to pull it out as well. Letting out another pained groan.

One by one he removed each arrow from both him and demon, the horse seemed to take it better then Elias, he was feeling like a baby in comparison. Friggen demon, don't act so cool, you're making Elias look bad. While he did this, arrows kept firing at him, but it was growing less constant as the archers realized that they probably weren't gonna be getting through his icy shield. Good. They'd need something a bit stronger then an arrow to punch through this, he put so much effort into his shield, it'd probably take an axe or a hammer to shatter it right now. Or a catapult, or a ballista. Any melee folk could probably slip in through the side though. It left him sort of tired though. Which wasn't good, he rarely got tired using magic. Then again he usually didn't use magic like this while being arrow filled.

He held his mending staff up, he never knew he could do this until recently actually, feeling a bit embarrassed really. Magic was coming from it and flowing into his own body, healing the wounds he accumulated, as well as healing his faithful steed all the while. His injuries sealed up and were healed, but the memory of them was still there, so he was still sore like a sort of phantom pain. Once he was done healing, it would be time to try and figure out some sort of plan out of this. For now he should just be happy he managed to live. It seemed someone wanted him dead, which wasn't too surprising because he was so awesome after all, but still rude.

[Minerva]

Minerva stared at the shaman, her eyes burning with fervor and spirit as she scoffed at his offer.

"You expect me to just walk away defenseless? And you're telling me that I'd be the one raping women? Good grief, dark one, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that to get me off your back. If you won't rearm me until after the battle, you're gonna have to deal with me until after the battle." Minerva used the extended hand to get up, wincing as pain shot through her from the aftereffects of Elder magic. "Damn, you hit hard. Haven't your parents told you that hitting a lady's inappropriate?"

The battle wasn't looking good. Orland was dead. Georg was having a temper tantrum, it looked like. Some of those savages were riding across the battlefield, leaving a path of dead in their wake. Hmph. And their archers were busy putting arrows into a block of ice. Well, at least that guy was stuck, whoever he was. Minerva chuckled at the futility of the sector. Without quick help, there would be a rout, it looked like. If only Orland was alive, everything would be different.

"So, dark one. Where to?"

[Edrick]

Edrick cocked an eyebrow as the bandit started sassing him back and trying to set the rules her own way. How. weird, she should know better.

"I never said that you yourself would do that, but the fact that you are helping them accomplish this feat makes you just as accountable in my eyes. But thank you." Well it was nice to know that his magic was quite potent, it seems tat he has been getting stronger since the arena. . . incident. " And they had told my not to hit a lady unwarranted, but it was warranted and I see no lady, just a female bandit trying to hurt generally peaceful people." It was hard to understand why a bandit would think she had privileges when her life was just spared by the opposite side. It reminded him of other kids of nobles and wealthy merchants back in Etruria. They were dreadful to work with, but now a bandit with that attitude. Elmine help him.

Looking down at the would be mage he just stared for a second. She was quite short compared to him. "You're pretty small, you could easily get away unnoticed, and this battle will last more than one day I'll bet on it. So just leave now." He turned around and noticed a wall of ice jutting up from the ground with a multitude of arrows sticking out of it. Where did that come from? It seemed he zoned out longer than he though just helping the mage up. Heck, he didn't even see the man whose entrance destroyed the moral of the enemy forces. He can't zone out like that again, it could be catastrophic for his health. He turned around briefly back to the mage, her last words ringing in his head. "Oh, and don't call me dark one. I'm not calling you short one or, she that... Um.. Can't cast magic. Now shoo." He was still a bit exhausted from the spell slinging though, so returning to the fighting right away didn't seem the best idea, taking in the battle seemed more appropriate. So Edrick examined the battle field as he waited for the woman to hopefully go away.

[Minerva]

"Look here, Dark One... Dammit, what am I supposed to call you? I'll call you Frank for now. Frank, I'm Minerva. And I'm still a bit wounded. I've got a little more class than just being lumped in as a bandit, I'll have you know. I'm more than a grunt. Either way, Dark -- Er, Frank... I'm not running away. Not even if you paid me. But... I might be willing to do other things for you if you pay me. Not even just you, but your whole 'side' of the battle. But I'm not leaving without a weapon, so if you won't rearm me, I'll have no choice but to continue to plague you with my presence and serenade you with the dry sarcasm I've as of yet spared you from."

Winking, Minerva cheekily gave a curtsy and then stood by, waiting. If the man took her up on her proposition... She had some valuable things to exchange. Honestly, her allegiance was of little matter to her -- the excitement and the potential fame and glory were much more tantalizing. Hopefully, the shaman wouldn't be too dense so as to spurn her intel.

[Edrick]

"I've yet to see any class, all I've seen if you trying to kill people. And you can call me that for now, Shorty." Wait, why did he say for now? Now was when they were parting, having a tail in this fight could be dangerous. Especially one that he didn't know, and not to mention was from the other side! Why won't she go away?!?

He was mostly tuning her out at that point to try and observe the battle, and they were winning, when Shorty said that she would do things for money. A confused look came across his face, his brows furrowed as he turned to her and cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" His face gained the ever so slightest tint of red before he realized that she was talking about selling out the bandits. Why would she be willing to do that so easily? It smelled like a trap, though why would bandits be capable of that? "NO one is going to want information from you, chances are that the information would be fake and would hurt the city. That is a chance I'm not going to take."

Finishing his examination of this side of the battle all seemed well, they didn't really need him anymore, especially with the new mage with the ice magic,so it would be bast for him to go check on another side of the battle. Before doing so however he turned to the female mage one last time. "You know, they way you are acting reminds me of the spoiled noble's children, it is actually kind of sad, and you can stay, I guess, if you can keep up." With that he abruptly turned and jogged quite heartily towards the north section to check on their progress.

[Exit thread, moving to north.]

[Minerva]

The mage chuckled airily as the dark one refused her offer. Well, it was worth a shot. She figured he'd be back later, begging for her assistance. Hopefully. And he'd pegged her as a noble's daughter. How astute. Maybe Dark One had some redeeming qualities... Well, he was letting her stay. Either he'd realized the worth of her information, or maybe was taking a liking to her. Huh. Well, she'd see. Maybe there was a way she could manipulate him to help her out. Maybe...

Minerva followed the Dark One, keeping pace easily and staying just behind him and to his right, like a shadow. She'd shadow him and see what she could find... Any weakness to exploit would be a useful chink in the armor. Hehehehe.

[Moving to North]

[Elias]

Healed? Check. Protected from arrow fire? Check. Capable of firing blasts of magic far beyond the range of retaliation? Check. Well then, looks like it was time for Elias to have fun. He managed to heal himself of all his wounds, and took a few moments to rest as well and collect himself. The archers have stopped trying their futile effort to breach his ice shield, and while it left the mage chilly it also left him safe. Being ice, it was a solid physical object, which meant that even after he finished channeling spirits, the ice remained. It would melt and break eventually, but a chunk of ice this large and this thick would take a while to break down enough that it would be a concern to him. He could always chill it back up too, just freezy freeze and frost it up. Since he wasn't creating the ice, and rather maintaining frost, it wouldn't be that tiring either. He could stay camped out here for, like, ever.

He looked out to the battlefield, or, rather, a warped version of it. The ice was translucent, but it also distorted the actual image. That was no good. So Elias held out his finger and touched it with his gloved hand. He took in a deep, frosty breath and let it out with a small shudder. Steam began to sizzling from where his hand and the ice met, as it pushed and sunk like a knife through butter. Heat blasted in a small burst from the tip of his index finger as he channeled the power of his fire tome. It burned through the ice, but only in that small area, creating a small hole. He dragged his finger to the right, widening the whole, but not so much that it created too much of a dangerous opening. At the moment a crack shot could possible hit him, but it was very unlikely. He saw the concept before in building and stuff. A small slit for archers to fire from, but not to be hit. It offered him a clear view of the battlefield while keeping him safe.

He could see fighters in the distance, fighting with other fighters. He couldn't tell who was who really, they were wearing colors or something, there wasn't a "bad guys are in green, good guys red" and while most of the bandits were poorly dressed, not all of them were. It made things a little confusing. There was probably a way to tell, but he didn't know it. So he didn't really know who to help, it was easier before because the people were trying to kill him. Still there was one thing he knew, he knew who were archers and he knew he HATED them. They shot him and Demon, so clearly they were monsters. So he would start there, the only good archer was a dead archer. Also archers on their side, they were pretty cool guys.

The sky darkened as if a storm was ready to roll in as Elias took in a deep breath, the air crackled with static electricity as he focused. The spirits danced around him as he took deep, even breaths. Measured, focused, this spell wasn't known for it's accuracy that's why he was focusing on it so. He could afford to, since he was almost entirely safe. Still the further away he fired it, the less likely it was to hit. However his targets were stationary as they fired arrow after arrow. He raised his staff and suddenly swung it down, like he was guiding the magic itself with it. Far away the air thundered as the sky came crashing down as bolts of heavenly thunder down upon the unsuspecting archers. Elias called down several spears of lightning upon them, blasting away at the ground in a cavalcade of magical might. The blasts weren't exactly what you call 'precise' but they were powerful and bombarded the bandits, killing several. Elias could go into detail over each on it slew, but he was too exhausted from the spell, and was instead catching his breath. He cast the spell a few times in quick succession, but it was way too much to keep sustained.

[Tamaya]

"Shikoba!"

Tamaya's horse had reared and stopped abruptly, her clansmen behind her hastily following suit as the reason for the delay became apparent.

Lightning, flashing out of the sky like the rage of the divine. The bolts of electricity fell like rain, obliterating many of the archers she and her people were driving towards. The power of such a strike was tremendous. Who could have sent the aid of the skies?

"We must not let this opportunity go to waste! Charge!"

The Cathecassa roared in response, and the tribe once again resumed their charge, arrows flying like raindrops towards their targets, the bandits. Tamaya gritted her teeth and spurred Shikoba forward, her bowstring humming as she rained death on the disorganized bandit lines.

[Elias]

Wow, it sure was boring around here. He just wondered what Red2 was up to. Probably something fun. And violent. Ultraviolent. He wanted some good old fashioned ultraviolence, but it seems his selection in magic has pushed him away from such a lofty goal. Bolting was cool and all, Archer's bane, but it wasn't... As fun. Like he remembered being up in people's faces and blowing them up with elfire Volcanon, he once juggled fireballs and then just tossed them in some dude's face. There was that one time he made a whip of fire, and wrapped it around that dude, and then used the whip to follow up with a boom blast explody fireballs that traveled along it like some fiery painful road of death. Oh oh, there was also that time he BLEW UP that entire fortress! Yeah, that was cool.

Now he was popping fools from miles away, with zippity zap lightning, which was cool too. But also not. After all he barely got to see the people he smote with righteous vigor, neither did it have that same sort of satisfying fuzzyness in his soul that he got when he saw things explode. His fimbulvetr tome was nifty keen, but it wasn't explodey cool. It didn't fulfill that primal desire to set thing on fire. It was much harder to set things on ice. Ice didn't... BOOM like fire. Still he lost his fire, and he needed to learn to live with it. Deal with it Elias, you're an intelligent mature responsible adult... Occasionally.

He had taken a moment to reflect, while he looked in the ice to reflect himself back at him. He looked, well outside of fabulous as always, tired. His hat was a bit askew, so he fixed that and straightened it upon his head. The tip of the feather on it was a little frayed at the ends, he'd have to replace it after the battle. His white cloak looked like it needed washing, flecks of black and brown dirt taint it's pristine white silk. It required a lot of cleaning, apparently white things stained easily. Who knew? He'd use magic to keep it clean but he didn't know if such magic existed. Did it? It should. Maybe he should invent it. Yes... He could see it now. Maybe by using the aspects of fimb- Wait no. Elias focus, now wasn't the time for earth shattering developments in the field of tailoring. His tunic was as red as the day he sowed it together, actually maybe a bit darker and dirtier looking. He made sure to always care for it but it's been a few years on the road now. Maybe it was time for a new outfit, one that screamed FASHION at the top of it's lungs like some crazy midget on a horse. Demon seemed fine, but it was hard to tell with that monster. Of course Demon was his monster, as he reached down and scratched it's mane.

The people seemed to have this fight in the bag, Elias wasn't doing a whole lot to help. They were too close to the enemy lines for him to reliably bombard them with magic, meanwhile he was too far away to actually engage the enemies in close ranged magic. There was also the issue of archers hating him. He could zip zap zoobity warp over there, but he didn't feel particularly needed. He should probably see what the situation was inside, maybe heal some of the injured fighters. He was a pretty damn impressive cleric after all.

The suppressing fire of the archers had lightened with the result of lightning, and the soldiers in the field pushing them back. So he could actually move from his icy barrier without worrying about an exciting new career as a pin-cushion. He touched the ice with his bare gloved hand, the white fabric looking a bit wet from the dripping water of the melting ice above him. He didn't want to leave this pillar there for someone to use to just jump in. That was for Red2 specifically. If anyone else tried, he'd mess them up. No one tried though, probably because they were scared of him. Darn right they were scared of him, he was Elias the Crimson Mage.

With a deep breath he focused on the ice, the magic, the spirits within. His magic flowed gently, like a softly rolling river as it filled the work of ice before him. He filled it, like it was some sort of shell covering his body, and when he had- "Hup!" The ice shattered. It turned into what looked like dust, glittering in the area. It caught the sun's light and glittered like diamonds in the sky. It was positively... fabulous.

He shook his had a bit, like it was sore from gripping onto something too tightly as he gently waded forward on his steed. He looked up at the city of heroes, holding his staff. "Hrm..." He looked at the rooftops that he could see, and picked out a nice person on one of the more sturdy looking roofs. "There!" He said holding the staff up, a rush of magic engulfed him as his entire body glowed white for a moment before he simply vanished into thin air. Nearby on the roof a very surprised archer found a mage atop his horse appearing out of nowhere right next to them. "Sorry pal, I'll get out of your hair." Elias teased with a grin. Looking down at the ground, finding another person, and warping next to them inside the city's walls. Outside of being understandably confused, no one seemed to have an issue with it. Elias had made his side in this conflict clear, and they weren't gonna tell the guy who toasted archers with lightning hundreds of yards away 'no don't come in, no Eliases allowed'

The guy on the roof was more of a relay point then anything, he couldn't see inside the city itself, and he needed something to anchor upon. However now that he was inside, at least he didn't have to worry about anything STUPID ARCHERS OH MY GOODNESS ELIAS HATED ARCHERS SO MUCH.

[Elias leaves the thread]