[b]"Strix, I'll count down. Mule, cover us."[/b]

As the vanguards rushed in and Feral shot off to the side, Thrones breathed out, her arms tingling again as she drew up her Arts. Translucent rings formed over her hands once more, her eyes searching through the mass of droids. It was organized chaos, just like her time at that Catastrophe Zone, technique and experience stripping away at any high-minded strategies. The Sankta grimaced then, her calm face giving way to contorted wrath. But it did not last. It never lasted.

Graviton particles thrummed in her mind's eye. She forced herself to calm, even as the whispers continued unabated by whatever her 'mind' thought. A flicker of purple, an arcing of electricity. She found them. They were ready to go.

[b]"Three, two, one."[/b]

Thrones unleashed her Arts, translucent rings manifesting around the stationary droids' ankles. The strain hit her in the same moment, as if every action she performed was done underwater. Only two though, and only parts of two. The [i]shackles[/i] tightened, and suddenly, the droids were flipped upside down as their feet and only their feet was subjected to an upwards force. If all went well, the two would ascend five meters upwards, forced to face away from the group.

If all went well, Strix's aim would be true.

The pale Sankta sniffed deeply. She smelt her blood, but it wasn't there.