Given the clashing and clanking sounds one didn't really need eyes in order to determine what was going on. However as Ferthyr still had decided to use them for the sake of details, he couldn't help but find a niggly, tiddly, shitty little problem to exist: Of course he could once more allow his magical talent to roam freely and invoke the very next spell his mind would come to in order to assist his companion. Also it was very likely that Bardeck would be able to hold out long enough for the completion of the process. However would the man survive afterwards ? Fire didn't exactly care about whose flesh it was consuming and with that little of a melee distance between the fighting men Ferthyr didn't see a chance to launch a strike precisely enough.

Yet there was another method available, one the elevated position he was standing one was providing him with. Even with that small hole in his left wing there still was plenty of lift left to prevent him from crashing into the ground straightforwardly when jumping over the ledge. So Ferthyr did, gliding towards the area of battle with hardly any noise to be heard over those of the weapons. What he could hardly predict though was who'd be standing where when the time was right, so the next best way of attacking would have to do.

It was the man with the mace who was lying on the ground. Temporarily immobilized he soon wouldn't be able to participate in the fight anymore. At least the sound of Ferthyr halfway impacing on him sounded pretty nasty, clearly indicative of ribs having been broken. Rolling off from the man beneath him, Ferthyr quickly tried to get away again. After all there still was a probably very well trained swordsman out there who could try to chop things off of him.