[i]A tasty, tasty collab between [@POOHEAD189], [@Peik], and the Schaft[/i]

As the conversation between the magi continued, Daelin wasted no time in studying the room for firing positions. The raised walkways in the old mine were still mostly intact in this large chamber, branching out from the mouth of the passageway they took her like a horseshoe, crates and barrels stacked behind the wooden parapets for good concealment, and the shadow would help mask any movements the barrels couldn't. Daelin put a hand on Dax's shoulder, who'd already had an arrow nocked. When the Argonian looked at him, he pointed to the western side of the walkways, telling him to take up position there. While Dax slunk away nimbly, he turned to Jorwen and Marcel. “Stay behind cover at the barrels near the ramp that leads down there. Daixanos and I will keep watch from above, move only when the fighting starts.”

With that, Daelin turned from them and moved towards the eastern walkway, almost disappearing in the shadows. As Marcel and Jorwen moved to take their position, he took his own behind a stack of crates. It wasn't long until the sounds of magical combat was heard a large section on his side of the walkway's wooden infrastructure gave way after being charred. It came crashing down in a pile of crates and barrels. Some of the barrels broke open and began to leak something black out onto the floor. He squinted, and his scout's eyes made quick work of the twenty paces between him and the broken barrels. It was pitch. If they could set a flame, it might be able to suck enough of the oxygen out of the air to make the mage's flames less powerful.

He looked about the room for more things that could even field for them, pickaxes, hammers, various tools and some bits, baubles, books and scrolls the pyromancer had brought in with him. Nothing struck him other than the pitch barrels until he saw a small trickle of water coming through the wall down below, the small stream on the ground it was creating was running down into another passageway that probably led to an underground reservoir, or at least hoped so. If there was flowing water underground near this mine, there had to also be some body of water.

He peeked his head up and saw Marcel and Jorwen moving in, and two flame atronachs faded into existence on either side of the Pyromancer with a raise of his arms. They fanned out to attack, one for each of the warriors down below.

Daixanos had just been about to loose, but Daelin had halted him at the nick of time. He was pointed toward the western walkway, and though curious at first, he could see the logic in it and slipped away like the silent hunter he was. The fight began to commence just as he got into position, and Dax nocked and arrow once more, predatory eyes scanning the cave for a clean shot to make. 

The magic unnerved him, but he had hesitated a moment earlier and was now steeled to what he needed to do. He was about to strike the mage before the Flame Atranochs appeared out of the air. He hissed quietly, but decided they were a fine distraction for the mage to stay still as Daixanos aimed carefully. The Hist guide me... he intoned, before loosing an arrow aimed at the Pyromancer's throat. 

The sight of hostile magi in a cave made Marcel feel more at home, compared to fighting Spriggans amidst a desolate landscape. Realizing that he would have to get to business soon, he quietly sheathed his silver smallsword and unsheathed its larger, steel counterpart instead. The fact that he had to fight men and mer, however evil, compared to mindless beasts, made him feel somewhat sad - but this was his job, and to bear the sadness was also part of his job.

Adhering to Daelin's orders, Marcel moved alongside the old Nord quietly, his sword at the ready. He could overhear the conversation between the mages. Like dozens he had heard before - arrogance, stupidity. These had always been in the mages, there was no denying that. 

When the chaos began, and the cave lit up in color with motley displays of searing flames, summoned Atronaches and cracks of electricity, Marcel jumped out of his spot, swinging his sword in a broad strike, aimed at the neck, against the Bosmer that seemed to be the center of attention. The first strike in the sundering of this cabal. 

Jorwen steeled himself. There were only the four of them here to take on whoever these magi were. Of those four, it was him and the Breton. Only the two of them, he shook his head, but your Chief gives you an order, best to carry it out until it's finished. He readied himself, tightening his grip on his shield and seax. Before he could hop up and over the crates, howling for blood, the Breton did the same without so much as a sound. Jorwen followed him over, his shield raised as he followed Marcel, circling to the Breton's left to take the Bosmer at his back. Before anything could come of the maneuver, a ball of fire roared by and he turned to see one of the atronachs the mage had summoned. He bellowed, lashing out from behind his shield with his seax.