"Right, I've had about enough of this," she mutters from her new vantage, on top of on of the cargo containers. She points towards the horizon, always knowing where the moon was, and closes her eyes. A barrage of bolts of solid arcan magic flies from the direction of the moon at Roy, each about the thickness of two fingers. There was one aimed for each limb, his head, and his center of mass. Each hit would feel like being stabbedd with dry ice, and persist, causing energy burns.