The orcs were a tenacious bunch which at the moment counted against them in the eyes of the defenders of the city. As the grappling hooks snared themselves on the stonework, Zatana wanted to rush forward and cut the ropes but caution held her back. The arrows flew in thick and fast to stop any who tried with fatal, or nearly so, results. The dark elf gave a snarled curse as Leonidas lunged forward to try and hack at one himself. She was supposed to be keeping him safe! Nearly stepping into an arrow she jerked back as one nearly found a landing in her dark flesh, Zatana felt some relief as an arrow bounced off the Prince's pauldron rather than embedding itself into something vital. Turning she set two arrows into the crowd of orc archers each finding a lovely green head to pierce. They needed to get those archers distracted somehow and she doubted joining the battle below would be of benefit.

Her fingers plucked arrows from her quiver, from corpses, from the stonework and even one from the air. A lucky grab, Zatana would admit to no one. Firing them back on the thickest grouping of the goblins when a woman passed her. A half-elf to be precise, and someone to be careful of. The dossier she had on Neysein the Half-Elf was incomplete. Woefully so, and it [i]bothered[/i] Zatana to no end. The rest of the dossier was set aside as the Prince called for the dark elf to deal with the archers. Dark eyes glared at the Prince as he whacked Orcs in the face with the hammer. Oh, he wasn't asking for much! Twisting herself about as she plucked arrows and sent them hurtling into the mass of cursed orcs, she looked for something better than an arrow. There were soldiers...

Time to play nice.

Gripping one man who had been standing near the catapult and helping to direct it, she ignored the disgusted look he shot her. [color=SlateBlue]"Order of Prince Leonidas, aim for the archers."[/color] She knew he heard her, he knew it when he raised his hand and she caught it as he moved to strike her. His nerves and temper fraying and his hatred taking over the good sense that one did not raise their hand to a superior. That the hatred drow, as part of the Royal Guard, did outrank him.

"Drow." The man spat in disgust, despite the Prince's words the hatred bred in the city ran deep.

Gripping his wrist, she applied pressure between the bone and her other hand pressed the head of an arrow under his chin. [color=SlateBlue]"Human, I care naught for the hatred of mine race. Your Prince Leonidas gave an order to me. Deal with archers, yes? And so dealt with they shall be. Even if I must fire you from the catapult at them. A flaming body works as well as any stone."[/color] She crooned her drowish accent coming to all it's glory as a slight cut trickled blood down the man's neck. 

Checking him with her body, she shoved the unbalanced guard back against the catapult as it was loaded. The man was pale under his helm, sweat shining on his face. The soldiers about her were watching warily as Zatana adjusted the insignia of the Royal Guard about her armor so the pendant was shown. They wanted to refuse, but as a member of the Royal Guard, the drow did have rank on them and orders from the Prince. The soldier, a corporal, who was in charge of the catapult snapped to his men the conditions of where the archers were gathered. Though his eyes held more hatred for the dark elf woman. Zatana to her benefit ignored it, grabbing a jug of oil she poured it on the stone and touched a torch to it. Now the simple stone was a flaming meteor as it sailed toward the archers hopefully to dislodge the foolish creatures. But if it did not? Then better it would be for the next shot to come from somewhere else. Zatana had turned on her heels, all too aware of the tight grip the soldier had on his sword.

Playing nice didn't always work out. Zatana admitted it was not her job to make friends, but they did help when they suspected nothing. But she had a job to do and winning the corporal over with sweet words and such would have taken time she did not have. Let alone the insult that he might slap her! Her black eyes glittered under the hood. No man raised a hand to a woman among the dark elves. Plus, if she had played games there was the possibility he would have knifed her and hoped the battle would have covered it up, Zatana had seen and heard of such tactics happening among her own people. Putting the arrow behind a shot she took an orc through the eye when it popped it's ugly head over the wall as she repeated her orders to the cannon. The body thudding below, mute amid the raucous noise of battle.