Derrica's already swinging by the time the tents go up in flame. A spell might have worked better, but there's something satisfying in the solid thud of connection. The heavy, blunt weight of the crystal cracks across the lookout's temple. She goes down in a heap, and Derrica's brief, triumphant expression is plain before she focuses on the rest of the potential combatants.
"There's two more coming out of that tent!" She hisses, though maybe there's not much need for stealth now that they've very clearly made their presence known.
Practice and instinct and muscle memory: Matthias clasps his hands around his staff and slams the butt of it against the dirt. There's an invisible whomp that rattles the dry brush and grass between their group and the tents--and a rush of hot air like an oven door opening.
And then fire blooms on the crown of the tent in question. It eats the thick canvas, and the crackle of it doesn't do anything to disguise the shouts and screams of distress.
Matthias grins. The fire bathes them all in orange light as a gust of wind pulls the flames higher. And there's no way they've not been spotted.
It's a noise of frustration and distress both. A quiet approach would have been good and smart, not this - But it's done now; there's no helping it. So Kitty turns - she's no good at setting anything on fire, but she's quite good at dealing with these sorts in her own way - and she pulls a knife from a brace at her belt.
Another mage emerges and sees her; he has quick reflexes, and lets loose a fireball at the same moment that she flings her knife. Both hit...But while she easily shakes off the magic, the knife causes rather more lasting damage.
That's two down. Mostly down, at least. The one that caught the knife has staggered back, gripping the hilt, but if they have a healer among them he might make a recovery. But in the meantime, his backward stagger knocks a third back as she tries to escape one of the flaming tents, and her robes go up as well.
So. Progress.
They're shouting in Tevinter. It's not a language most people speak on a daily basis, but good for coordinating against an enemy in a foreign land. How many, mostly, if anyone understands, but a short man with a big staff is trying to make orders heard over the chaos and marshal the dozen-odd people in the camp into some sort of formation while he blankets them with a barrier. A little more than half listen. The others are, variably: unconscious, stabbed, on fire, bolting down the other side of the hill in a panic, or with equal panic hurling a wave of ice into the dark toward their attackers.
Kostos says where he is, following the Tevinter leader's example—not the orders, but a barrier for everyone, except Kitty, around whom the attempt fizzles and vanishes into nothing. He'll be irritated about that later, but for the moment he turns his attention to drawing bright little wisps through the Veil and sending them left and right to flank the camp in the dark.
hey what's up i dodged out of unofficial order to welcome u
There's something weird about magic that Matthias notes in passing, and does not connect to Kitty. Probably won't, even later, when adrenaline has flooded out of him and he's dunking his head in whatever cold water he can find to cool himself down. The thought in the moment is a flicker, watch out, a hand on the back of his neck that turns his attention, watch out but don't lose focus, the way he used to get pointed toward the enemy and, then, let loose.
The fire is eating the tent and there's people shouting, and Matthias knows what to do, the moment cut out like it's written in a book. There are people fleeing down the back of the hill, and he skips forward, almost gleeful, and shoves his staff forward, and a gust of flame rises up out of the ground itself and seethes up into a veritable wall. A low wall, but still. It circles the escapees, lapping at their boots, blocking their way out. And it makes a kind of bright blazing marker for the wisps, which whiz by like fireflies: here's where the battlefield ends, because they are in control of the field.
It has been a very long time since anyone else laid a barrier on Derrica. She feels it like a faint crackle across her skin, whispering into place and blunting the knife-sharp shards of ice that whip towards her face. The impact resonates, but blood isn't drawn.
Momentum carries her all the way into the center of the camp, drawing up behind the confused mess of combatants. There is one spell she knows that will be of use here, one that she can cast reliably. She brings her staff down to the Earth with a concussive crack and lightening follows, leaping from the blood-spattered focus at the tip of her staff to the nearest unlucky target, to his fellows, one by one by one.
Their opponents are hemmed in. It's nice, having a clear advantage. Derrica flashes a bright, eager smile over her shoulder as she dodges another wash of ice flung in her direction.
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"There's two more coming out of that tent!" She hisses, though maybe there's not much need for stealth now that they've very clearly made their presence known.
no subject
And then fire blooms on the crown of the tent in question. It eats the thick canvas, and the crackle of it doesn't do anything to disguise the shouts and screams of distress.
Matthias grins. The fire bathes them all in orange light as a gust of wind pulls the flames higher. And there's no way they've not been spotted.
So that's done.
no subject
It's a noise of frustration and distress both. A quiet approach would have been good and smart, not this - But it's done now; there's no helping it. So Kitty turns - she's no good at setting anything on fire, but she's quite good at dealing with these sorts in her own way - and she pulls a knife from a brace at her belt.
Another mage emerges and sees her; he has quick reflexes, and lets loose a fireball at the same moment that she flings her knife. Both hit...But while she easily shakes off the magic, the knife causes rather more lasting damage.
hey guys
So. Progress.
They're shouting in Tevinter. It's not a language most people speak on a daily basis, but good for coordinating against an enemy in a foreign land. How many, mostly, if anyone understands, but a short man with a big staff is trying to make orders heard over the chaos and marshal the dozen-odd people in the camp into some sort of formation while he blankets them with a barrier. A little more than half listen. The others are, variably: unconscious, stabbed, on fire, bolting down the other side of the hill in a panic, or with equal panic hurling a wave of ice into the dark toward their attackers.
Kostos says where he is, following the Tevinter leader's example—not the orders, but a barrier for everyone, except Kitty, around whom the attempt fizzles and vanishes into nothing. He'll be irritated about that later, but for the moment he turns his attention to drawing bright little wisps through the Veil and sending them left and right to flank the camp in the dark.
hey what's up i dodged out of unofficial order to welcome u
The fire is eating the tent and there's people shouting, and Matthias knows what to do, the moment cut out like it's written in a book. There are people fleeing down the back of the hill, and he skips forward, almost gleeful, and shoves his staff forward, and a gust of flame rises up out of the ground itself and seethes up into a veritable wall. A low wall, but still. It circles the escapees, lapping at their boots, blocking their way out. And it makes a kind of bright blazing marker for the wisps, which whiz by like fireflies: here's where the battlefield ends, because they are in control of the field.
wow if cee's breaking unofficial rules so am i
Momentum carries her all the way into the center of the camp, drawing up behind the confused mess of combatants. There is one spell she knows that will be of use here, one that she can cast reliably. She brings her staff down to the Earth with a concussive crack and lightening follows, leaping from the blood-spattered focus at the tip of her staff to the nearest unlucky target, to his fellows, one by one by one.
Their opponents are hemmed in. It's nice, having a clear advantage. Derrica flashes a bright, eager smile over her shoulder as she dodges another wash of ice flung in her direction.