As the fight raged on around her, Bharzak took some time to catch her breath. It appeared that she was no longer the object of the pyromancer’s focus, and she was glad of it—she supposed the newcomers did at least give her more of a chance of surviving this encounter. She peeked around the corner of her makeshift shield just in time to see one of the newcomers fail to incapacitate Gwinnir, as he melded together the wound on his chest with a flaming hand, appearing more annoyed by the injury than anything. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in this new kind of power he displayed, and immediately she rule out any ideas that required close combat with the mage—or weapon-based combat, anyways. Judging by the fact the pyromancer seemed not to be running out of magicka anytime soon, he could probably ‘heal’ as many wounds as he acquired. It would probably take an attack that didn’t depend on letting the mer bleed out. She was [i]not[/i] about to risk losing her war-axe to this flaming madman, and there had to be more effective ways to go about inconveniencing him. The only problem was coming up with something she [i]could[/i] do that would both be useful and within her particular set of skills.


Then the pyromancer conjured himself a flame cloak. Bharzak immediately ducked behind her shelter once more, anxiety spiking within her gut so intensely as she heard the wood of the table crack and fizzle that the slight twinge of pain from her burn went unnoticed. Her eyes felt as if they were burning from the unpleasant heat that now surrounded her; the temperature of the cave was now rather sweltering, and the fresh air available to those within it had become noticeably scarce. Luckily, the wooden ‘fortification’ she had taken shelter behind was too damaged by the blaze, although there was no telling how many more of the pyromancer’s attacks it would withstand. Despite these significant distractions, however, the orsimer mage was able to concoct a plan of action as her eyes landed on an abandoned pickaxe and a few chunks of valueless, discarded stone lying not far from her makeshift defenses.


Her idea was a risky one, but if she could move quickly enough, it might just pay off. Bharzak did not know any particularly flashy or devastating spells, but she might not have to in order to make a difference in the fight. Perhaps her actions might be all someone else needed to bring the pyromancer down—and the orcish mage was not one to be bothered by not ‘claiming’ a kill, as long as the crazed mer was dealt with. Taking only the briefest of moments to prepare herself before she rejoined the fray, rust-colored wisps of a telekinesis spell began to emanate from one of her hands. Shortly afterwards, one of the pieces of stone rocketed up from its resting place, flying towards the Bosmer at a dangerous speed.