Hot ash scored across Gillian's face as the tree slammed into the battlefield. [i]'Ah, just what this needed. Even MORE burning timber.'[/i] he though, following the offending fir (or was it an oak? Botany was not his strong point) to its point of origin and was surprised to find a giant of a man bearing down on the young captain. "The hell is she doing up-" he begins to say, cut off abruptly as he feels a sharp pain across his ear and the whizzing of a bolt in flight. 

Out of reflex he raises his shield and backs up quickly, resisting every urge in his body to paw at the fresh gash. His comrades seems to not share his reaction, screaming forward (in one case quit literally), to aid the captain. Calming his momentary panic, he looks for the origin of the shot. [i]'Lucky shot?...'[/i] he thinks, watching as the offending crossbowmen and his friends where over taken by Tyaethe's forces. [i]'No. too many. Ambush. Well laid too..."[/i], he thinks, looking over the devastation. While few in Fanilly's charge were hurt (it seemed Sir Aethelmund's forces claimed the majority of the honors) they were woefully out of position, cut off from both their captain and the fray. They held their position, slaughtering any bandit still on their side who was too dumb or too desperate to escape the flames to stay away, but were hesitant to do much else, fearing another trap. 

Gillian cursed it all, the damage to morale (much less the physical) had crippled their line. The only savings grace was the flaming sanctuary the felled tree provided. The situation called for a charismatic, tactical young knight to step up and take charge! But Gillian didnt see any candidates in the throng of knights(self included), so he'd have to wing it. "..P.." He shouts above the ruckus, barely sure of what he was doing (engagements like this were why he was a mercenary). "PIN THE REMAINING BANDITS BETWEEN US AND THE FIRE, WE'RE GOING TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT FLANK AND GET AROUND IT. THEN PRESS ONWARD TO THE MIDDLE!"  He calls out as the company begins to move, though purely from a sense of urgency rather than and regard for rank. [I]"If I live through this Klien, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life...."[/i], he thinks bitterly, hoping he'd not just doomed the very charge he was in (or any of the others).