[center][h1][color=gold] Cymbeline Lockhart [/color][/h1][/center] [hr] [color=gold]"What the hell?"[/color] the half-Nem said under her breath, left in shock for a brief moment as her eyes took in the sight, even amidst her having been occupied prior with sending a hail of arrows into the fray upon the orcs and trolls remaining in the field of battle. The bright purple beam was reflected back, leaving a dent in a magically-generated shield and a scar of molten rock and flames in its wake as it had rebounded back towards the treeline proper, and in no small amount she could tell right away that this was no small-scale magic. This was a large spell, something that required a lot of mana to use....and had been directly aimed at the captain, a direct attempt to assassinate the knights' leader on the spot with overwhelming and absurd force for a single attack. But if she could get to where the attack had originated...hmmm....perhaps she would be able to be of some use if the enemy was still nearby, being a magic user herself of course. Not that she doubted the capabilities of the far older and more experienced Sir Indaru and his runes, of course, but even so it could be a risk. Biting her lip, Cymbeline noted that even with Sir Tiral's support, the captain might potentially be targeted again. Potentially of course, even though they were currently winning. Breaking into a run, the half-Nem mage-archer of the Iron Rose Knights moved over to some of the dead bodies of orcs that now lie on the ground, grabbing up a few of her arrows and putting them back in her quiver before looking over at the blind and lumbering troll head towards them. Dropping to one knee and into a solid firing position, Cymbeline wheeled her bow around towards the blinded, raging troll, before pulling out one of her sigil-marked arrows still covered in good part with orc blood. She carefully knocked and aimed the arrow at the blinded troll's throat, her breaths slowing for a moment to ensure careful aim, her arms taking account of the wind, before.... Mana ran from her into the sigil on the arrow, flaring up its power as the arrow was released. Moving through the air at great speeds, the arrow flew towards the troll's head with a sort of bloody grace, the sigil seeming to glow even more as it neared its target, the tiniest of cracks only beginning to form on the arrowhead. Were the arrow to hit its mark, or anything for that matter, the arrowhead would explode on impact, shattering in a burst of magical energy that would usually take a chunk out of flesh from a target and send small fragments of arrowhead out as well like shrapnel. Albeit, a very limited amount of it that would likely be lodged in the troll's body. From here Cymbeline would fire two more recovered arrows of the normal sorts both in succession at the blinded troll's left knee, seeking to incapacitate its movement somewhat if the initial arrow did not kill. From here she would turn her attention to the one of the other four trolls still advancing towards their ridge, loosing two more arrows aimed at that troll's throat in succession as well. Were that magic user to reappear or attack again, she wanted to maintain this position to try to assist in protecting the captain...or any other nearby targets for that matter. To that end she wanted to conserve more of her mana, that one sigil arrow fired at the blinded troll being an attempt to end it fast and allow herself to focus on other targets and keep an eye on that treeline. [hr] [center][h1][color=crimson] Elissa Lockhart [/color][/h1][/center] [hr] Parrying, deflecting the blows of, and cutting into orcs was a labor, albeit a necessary one in the group's current situation, Elissa felt that with many of them being mopped up the trolls were the next most important matter at hand. Beyond the one that seemed blinded, and one still advancing on the ridge, the remaining three were not seeming to make much progress. At least, at the moment. As her blade stabbed through into an orc's armpit under its raised arm, and into his chest and straight into its sinewy heart, the orc collapsed to Elissa's side in a dead, bloody heap as its blood fell off in drops from her sword once the blade was withdrawn from its corpse. Looking over after this as her eyes moved to the rest of the battlefield, she cooly took in what her plan of action would be, before blitzing off on her feet towards her next target. Seeing her sister had moved a bit more forwards than normal, probably to pick up some of her arrows, Elissa turned her attention to where her sister was aiming at right now. As it were, this was at the lumbering troll still coming for the ridge. Internally rolling her eyes at her sister for not having sought to take aim at the thing, she adjusted her shield in her right hand and sword in her left as she moved to get behind the still-moving troll. [color=crimson][i]'Take this, you [b]hadrid[/b]!'[/i][/color] she shouted within her mind, not actually aloud of course, as she swung her sword at the troll's tendons on the back of its right leg whilst moving, aiming to essentially hamstring or partly-hamstring its leg to hinder movement or perhaps cause it to fall over in a hit-and-run attack. She'd already had to replace a few swords this battle, but not enough to be in danger if she had to replace them a few more times. However, the shield she held was in at least "working" condition for deflecting blows, albeit this was a troll and not an orc. Personally speaking, she had not blinked too much beyond a moment at the captain nearly being disintegrated by that magical purple beam, knowing that the "captain" had an actually experienced knight at her side for that. Sir Tiral, if she recalled correctly, was a well enough mage and knight to handle things there, she assumed. And indeed, he had managed to reflect the beam with seemingly some effort. But of all things, aiming for this little girl of a captain was a sad move on the enemy's part in her mind. Such desperate measures at a time like this, trying to kill a girl in the middle of battle with an overwhelming attack. Albeit, tactically it was sounder than some things. It was not that Elissa didn't care for her comrades, as she had already been trying to take the front from the more injured knights among the group so they might be able to pull back and rest in this current battle alone, but to her personally Fanilly was not the linchpin of this operation and their forces despite being the highest ranked member here. It would not be good, nor did she wish death upon the girl-captain who was younger than her, though whilst her death would have been...well, shocking and terrible, it would not have as much of a loss for combat prowess to her as one of the major fighters like Sir Indrau or Sir Radistirin or even Sir Tiral himself would be if they died here. Without those needed people of great experience and age holding the line with the others and keeping the pressure on, the knights' forces in her mind might cave to just enough troll then even if Fanilly herself was still among them in such a situation. But perhaps she was being cynical about things, as it were, but it was not like she hadn't thought of what potential losses of certain members would do in this battle. It sounded rather cold even by her standards, but that also was why she didn't really talk about that to anyone. Sure she'd once or twice drunkenly rambled on the matter among the members dissenting knights in the order in regards to their dislike of Fanilly being the head of the Order itself, but as it were she'd listen to the girl's orders out of respect for her rank. However, to her that was it. A rank, much like how a countess could command her servants. And until this blond girl eventually led them into a situation that her age would foul up, she would obey her superior's orders and follow her into battle. Sure, Elissa herself was only eighteen years old, but she had worked for this spot, earned it, gained it from practice and proving her worth. Her sister had gotten to this point as well in that manner. Fanilly, on the other hand, had been handed this on a silver platter. Sure there could be the work to earn respect in such a title, and to prove she was worth the effort and value of some old tradition, but with there being enough of a dissenting party among the knight in regards to her....well, had Fanilly earned this yet? Elissa personally was not sure, but she felt this leader of the knights, in her own humble opinion, would make or potentially break their tradition for choosing a leader.