[table][row][center][h3]Artemisia[/h3]
[i][b]Alymere Fort Exterior[/b][/i][/center][/row][cell]

The energy of the company, strident and assured given the relatively minor threat posed by their adversary, gave way to a potent silence as it began its approach. Toward its rear lagged Artemisia, indistinguishable from an ordinary army caster thanks to her borrowed robe, over whom the quiet hung heavier than for most. With its sizable opposing forces, strict organization, and proper chain of command, this would be her first real battle. Her status among her kin meant that by now she'd been in her fair share of fights, but this fight would be an altogether different beast. As the force neared the fort, she found the same old question ate at her stronger than ever: how exactly would she contribute to the fight without using her magic?

That question presented a difficult dilemma with no good answer. If she fought, she would be flaunting her malignant talents for all to see. She shivered just imaging the elders' reaction to a new Wayfarer acting so brazenly, and in such near proximity to the swamplands, no less. Yet, if she just stood by, the others would surely notice. Either path invited unwanted attention on her. Artemisia heaved a despondent breath, more of a strangled exhale than a melancholy sigh. She'd gotten herself into a rotten situation.

Her worries and doubts could not trouble her for long, however. Before she knew it, the bandits' watchmen spotted the battalion, and in reply prince leading the company began the assault. For many his outcry served as a spark on powder, causing tensed muscles to spring into action, but Artemisia wanted to shrink back. Yet, there was no running away now. The dark mage needed to get her head out of the clouds. After narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she laid a palm against the side of her head and cast a tiny Flux. The sharp burst of gnawing, burning pain jolted her into alertness, awakening her battle instincts. Before her, the budding battlefield became clearer.

Thanks to her numerous melee allies, she could approach without fear of targeting from enemy swordsmen or axemen, but those were bows and hawk-eyed heads peering over the Alymere's battlements. Mages like her made a tempting target for archers, given their generally low defense and propensity for standing still while casting. Still, it was a risk she could take. The army tailors, clearly no fools, made their caster uniforms purposefully drab to avoid inviting attention. If the first push got through, which it surely would, there would be too much chaos for bowmen to take potshots. With that in mind, Artemisia took off running to join the charge.

Ahead, the force split. Some, including a cavalry archer ahead of the curve, went for the main gate. Among them Artemisia recognized Trace, but the sight elicited no reaction from the mage in fighting mode. The others, Artemisia knew, would be enacting a gambit made possible in part by her own work helping an alchemist the other day: a barrel packed with magical explosives would be used to breach part of the wall and open up a second line of attack. Opting for the latter group, Artemisia continued to sprint forward until with a start she found herself much farther forward than she would have liked. Nervous, she glanced backward. Where were all the melee fighters? In reply an arrow hit the ground nearby, narrowly missing her leg, and she jumped in fear. The shock transformed into a flood of indignant anger that drowned the dark mage's common sense. “You do NOT!” A purple spiral wreathed in black smoke sprung to life in her hand, and she thrust it at the battlements. In an instant they were consumed by a tenebrous Miasma. Artemisia realized what she'd done the next second and cursed her rashness. “Hell's teeth! The rush overcame me!” Well, it was out of her hands now. Hopefully the others would concentrate more on being thankful for the archers' disruption than on her playing her hand minute one, like an idiot.[/cell]

[cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wW8IBnQ.png[/img]
__________________________
Status: [color=lawngreen]Overengaging[/color]
[/center][u]Class:[/u] Occultist
[u]Inv:[/u] Vulnerary, Book of Secrets
[/cell][/table]