The attack came rather swiftly; aiming at the man who had just been healed. "Well, now or never," Artholath muttered to himself. He shot (well, flicked with a pair of fingers) a single icicle-shaped round at the new foe (Marcy) without too much regard for accuracy - later on he could at least say he tried. He pulled out the scythe he had in reserve, just in case something charged out of the bushes at him too.