Gwyn shot past the first shanty, then the second, her arrival impossible to miss. Sliding the grip of her staff down to the very base, she hefted it back as the swordsman surged forward, blade at the ready.

[b]“Bash!”[/b]

At maximum reach, her staff far out-ranged that of a sword, and with all the momentum gathered in the head, any attempt to block would be thwarted as well. There was an echoing crack as it smashed into the skull, bits of bone bursting off, but while such an attack may be crippling for a living being, the undead warrior shrugged it off, delivering a sweeping swing that forced Gwyn to stop as well. For a moment, priest and undead were stalemated.

But then, a gurgling melody, a perversion of an incantation to force a contracted elemental to act, rang through the air. Ash’s bowstring twanged in response, an arrow flying into the eye socket of the undead mage. Such action was meaningless though. The undead felt no pain and could not be stopped even when pulverized into bits. Only with the blessing of Alri-Qua could those cursed by the King of Corpses be put to rest. And Ash’s arrow certainly wasn’t anything blessed by the First Light.

As Muu rushed in, a wave of cold emanated from the undead mage, the wet ground beneath freezing over, slick. Suddenly, her violent ambition worked against her, her feet finding little purchase as she slipped and slid towards her opponent. But natural athleticism saved her from a fall, and she slammed into the shanty instead, keeping herself upright in the process.

Ettamri was less fortunate. Her greatsword roared through the air, vicious and unrelenting, as her steed reared to the side, but the undead warriors responded in kind, hopping towards their right. The tip of her sword clanged against the shield of the spearman, leaving a scar birthed from sparks, but no greater damage was dealt. They had done well enough, ensuring that Ettamri couldn’t charge straight into their mage, and now, their diversionary tactics bore fruit: as thick ice coated the area around them, the white warrior’s steed couldn’t keep on its feet anymore and tumbled downed, the rider falling with it. It was fortunate, at least, that she hadn’t been crushed under the weight of her own steed, but now grounded, Ettamri faced the spearman on equal footing, as the axe wielder rushed down towards Muu, who was still trying to find her own balance on the icy terrain.

Matteo, meanwhile, stayed where he was, all under the guise of being stealthy. He probably should do something soon, but he was a thief, and no one in the party had asked him to sneak ahead or anything. It wasn’t even like his small knife could do anything against this group of unbleeding, undying monstrosities.

So for now, he bid his time in the back, hoping that his more combat-savvy party members would be able to figure something out.