[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/DmHThHw.png[/img][/center]
Ethelred looked down at the decapitated head that had moments before had been lunging at him.  If he learned anything here, it was not to take advice from Sir Elias.  Not that he'd expect to ever run into Reinhardt again, rest his soul, but clearly no more of this talk about crippling an opponent's limbs to send them into a panic.  Maybe it worked for a great hero like Sigurd, but from now on, Ethelred was going to stick to what he was good at- freezing things until they couldn't move, and stabbing them in the vitals until they ceased struggling.  

At least Elnith had been here to get him out of this particular mess.  He was grateful for both her help and being lent her magic sword, although he harbored doubts that he was capable of using it to his full potential.

He didn't have time to worry about it, however, because the most immediate concern was the two wyverns left.  One had just finished making quick work of a group of Harzel soldiers.  The other was in the process of attacking Grainne and the remaining ballista.  It was a bit of a dilemma- if he attacked the closer one on the ground, he might be able to obtain one victory, one worthwhile kill under his belt in this disaster of a mission.  He had already failed to land a fatal blow on the arcane archer, the cyclops, and both wyverns that he had previously faced, and there was no prestige or glory to be had in killing the few pitiful bandits and lesser Fomorians along the way.  And now, that abrasive little brat that called him "icicle" and "frosty" and confidently told him that she could best him in a fight was up there and in need of help.  She deserved to be left to her own devices, after all, if she fought half as good as she talked, she'd surely be fine.  Furthermore, the destruction of the ballista and the deaths of the soldiers manning it would make it easier for him and Elnith to make their escape if the surviving Harzel forces' displeasure at her escape eclipsed their gratitude for the help fighting the wyverns.

But like Elnith had said, Ethelred was too kind.  His body may be cold and icy, but his heart was the one thing that [i]wasn't[/i] frozen.  A gust of icy fog emanated from his helmet as he cursed under his breath at what he was about to do.

[color=6ecff6][i]I am going to hate myself for this...[/i][/color]

With his lance in his main hand and Elnith's sword held in his shield-hand, he rushed up the nearest staircase and made his way to the ballista.  He looked down at the second wyvern- there was still the opportunity to forget about that nasty, foul-mouthed squire and instead plunge his lance into the monster's skull from above.

Ethelred looked away, trying his best to banish those thoughts as he approached the wyvern.  As much as he wanted to chill the stone masonry beneath his feet, he felt that with what he was about to do, it might be better not to.  To avoid its tail, and get a better angle, he climbed atop the battlements and took a flying leap at the wyvern, intent on embedding his lance into the beast's back while it focused on dealing with Grainne.  Assuming it landed, he'd cling to the wyvern's back and invoke his powers to freeze the lance to the wound, and freeze his armor to the wyvern's flesh.  This one would not be allowed get away.