There was a characteristic noise coming from where Ferthyr, due to his position, could more assume than really know his companion Bardeck and the man he was talking with were standing. The exchange of words that had preceded that noise had already been quite indicative of what was bound to come, but with one bone shattered there was no way back for certain. What did massively add to the winged individual's discomfort however was the simple fact that it was two against for, or, maybe, two against three and a half by now.

Ferthyr's feet slipped over the steep decline beneath them. Over the years the tiles and wooden boards had become covered by a layer of organic material that, combined with a bit of water, was quite slick. With the help of his hands and the chimney however he managed to pull himself up onto the crest from which he could unleash his magic.

Naturally the first target was the bowman. From his positon on top of the roof this guy was the only one that could pose an immediate danger to him and his companion, making the rather unfortunate soldier a priority. The man had already spotted Ferthyr's sudden appearance and was drawing his bow when a fireball impacted onto his chest. A rather primitive spell with too little power to kill, but enough for inducing a lot of pain on unprotected skin and -- most importantly -- quick to create. The distinctive odor of burnt hair started to spread immediately.

Ferthyr stayed close to the chimney in case there'd be another attempt to shoot him -- better slip down on the other side and bend ones ankles than being pierced by an arrow. It was a race of magic against obviously well-trained archery, one of the men channeling forces beyond the boundaries of regular physics while the other tried to beat him from within just those.

Much to his misfortune Ferthyr received the lession as the projectile slammed right through his wings, that large area of attack behind his very V-shaped back he couldn't hide. Dark red blood started dripping onto the moss, a suppressed scream emanated from his mouth. At least the heat was ready. The archer was tossed off his feet by yards and one could easily see the further progression of the schockwave as it made the high grass wave helplessly. Given the multitude of nasty sounds some things inside the archer's body had given way. Blood was coming out of his mouth as he tried to put out the flames that had appeared on his leather clothing.