Location: Balmung Castle | Guest Dorm
Arbora has little time to explore the many halls and rooms the castle has to offer as they are shepherded into their designated rooms. Passing by paintings of royal and historical figures, a marble carving depiction of a last stand battle of some sort, and the clattering noises of the kitchen, there are many things that the young viera would like to document during her brief stay.
Last to enter the dormitory, she notes who she will be spending the night with. Not an undesirable lot, seemingly reliable in fact. She taps at her tablet as she strolls through the center of the room, ignoring the windows and their sightlines or the men checking their equipment. Making her way to the unclaimed bed, she slowly and softly sits on its edge, focused still on the screen for a moment longer before setting it down. She doesn't mean to keep her attention on one thing and makes a conscious effort to interact with her surroundings.
Bottles clink, Arbora's left ear twitches and she looks over to Arton. She spies his quiet dismay before he glances up at the doorway to Neve and herself before looking to Galahad for some sort of aid. She could only offer a blink in response, unsure what to make of it as the door clicks open once again. Shouting down the hall made clear as the portal to the hallway is opened, a disregarded element until the last moment. She scolds herself mentally for letting her guard down just because of the big walls and fancy environment. The presence of rifles and enemy soldiers tell Arbora that this place is no safer than her nomadic tribe with no walls. In fact, they were trapped in this room as the only entrance is blocked.
The sollan men jump into action first, weapons flash across the room as a long-shafted weapon is pressed into the group to halt their advance. Arbora hops up from the bed just as Neve is pushed away from the attackers, so she throws her hands forward to support the sollan girl from falling over. As she twists to face the bed behind her to grab her tablet, she hears the rushing of heavy boots and the quick sounds of a blade striking skin and drops of blood hitting the hardwood floor.
Summoning focus in hand, she spins back around and shoots her free hand toward her backpack, fingers splayed. "Neldibog!"
The arcane force of her spell blast the contents of her belongings halfway across the room, a diamond coalescing at the tips of her fingers and a screech of fire ping off the thin metal shells that rolled out from her bag. Growing like the spread of a wildfire, a mass of animate fire takes a goblinoid form, heat radiating and masking the plates with waves of hot air. The metal parts of the goblinoid glow with the high temperature, but they don't melt or bend under the pressure.
Standing at half a person's height, the fiery conjuration strolls casually up to Arbora with an expectant look. Satisfied with her successful minor summon, she gives the creature a knowing smile. "Cotjael tol eu xispe ullas,"
she whispers, the goblinoid creation giving a faithful war cry (which mostly sounds like crackling coals in a metal container) and joining the fray. It runs up between the ally sollans and gives a combusting jab to the nearest enemy leg, knocking their balance over and setting them partially aflame in painful surprise as their gun clatters to the floor.