06-18-2014, 01:02 AM
Nichol regained his facilities as he felt the energy of a healing staff course through him momentarily. The troubadour was already riding away to the next soldier as he got to his feet and continued advancing up the hill. There still hadn't been any feeling that he was contributing to the situation at all, despite the downed mage whose wounds— or death— were courtesy of Nichol. He decided to rectify that as he reached the hill's summit, sending his lance flying into another irregular— only for it to come out of his hands as something shoved him.
It was a mage grabbing him around the neck, yelling something. Nichol cursed as he realised that he was being held down for an attack, a fireball materialising in a nearby mage's hands to rush toward him. The tactic made a relative amount of sense: armor knights could be outrun and armor fused into slag, and a cavalier's horse couldn't be held down too easily, so the pair of mages was going for the in-between foot soldiers. Nichol elbowed the physically-weaker man and broke free of the grasp he'd been held in promptly, but he still felt himself grazed by the fire spell as he frantically searched for another weapon.
Nichol grabbed the spear of a fallen armor knight after nearly tripping on it. The thing was heavy, far more hefty than the lances issued to soldiers, but it was a spear all the same. Nichol lunged at one of the mages, who deftly dodged the attack. Frustrated, the soldier threw himself into the mystic, bruising the mage's head with the butt of the spear.
Have I seen him before?
He paid for his idle wondering as the two mages were now bolting down the hill, apparently having decided to resort to plan B. It was foolish to think that any old acquaintances or rivals could be among these irregulars: they were on the other side of Lycia, for Elimine's sake. The weight of the spear that Nichol had picked up was now becoming uncomfortably apparent, and he scanned the area for a lighter-looking one, or a fallen soldier that might be still holding one, as the mage pair grew more distant by the moment and he realised that there were almost certainly going to be quite a few rebel escapees.
It was a mage grabbing him around the neck, yelling something. Nichol cursed as he realised that he was being held down for an attack, a fireball materialising in a nearby mage's hands to rush toward him. The tactic made a relative amount of sense: armor knights could be outrun and armor fused into slag, and a cavalier's horse couldn't be held down too easily, so the pair of mages was going for the in-between foot soldiers. Nichol elbowed the physically-weaker man and broke free of the grasp he'd been held in promptly, but he still felt himself grazed by the fire spell as he frantically searched for another weapon.
Nichol grabbed the spear of a fallen armor knight after nearly tripping on it. The thing was heavy, far more hefty than the lances issued to soldiers, but it was a spear all the same. Nichol lunged at one of the mages, who deftly dodged the attack. Frustrated, the soldier threw himself into the mystic, bruising the mage's head with the butt of the spear.
Have I seen him before?
He paid for his idle wondering as the two mages were now bolting down the hill, apparently having decided to resort to plan B. It was foolish to think that any old acquaintances or rivals could be among these irregulars: they were on the other side of Lycia, for Elimine's sake. The weight of the spear that Nichol had picked up was now becoming uncomfortably apparent, and he scanned the area for a lighter-looking one, or a fallen soldier that might be still holding one, as the mage pair grew more distant by the moment and he realised that there were almost certainly going to be quite a few rebel escapees.