Adrienne Jastal
Hag Rock Redoubt
Hag Rock Redoubt
To be fair, Adrienne didn't know much about how castle infiltrations were supposed to go, so the fact that they had met absolutely no resistance and were already climbing their second staircase didn't really strike her as something to be worried about, or at least it wouldn't have if the tension surrounding her comrades were not so palpable. Keeping her breathing slow and measured, she passed her tongue over her lips nervously, one hand on the hilt of Redemption and the other tingling with the chill of an unreleased ice spell. The climb towards the top of the stairs seemed endless, and when they finally alighted on the landing, she was only able to give the barest nod in return for Drayk's much-needed direction. A plan was something she understood, something solid, no matter how loose it was.
Slowly, slowly, Drayk opened the door, only to recieve an arrow to the chest for his trouble. Adrienne pulled in a sharp breath. It was not the first time she had wished she could use Restoration skills, but she'd never felt the absence so keenly as when it was her friends who would have benefited.
She need not have worried so much, of course, for he was more than capable of healing himself, and though she winced sympathetically when the arrow came out, there was no permanent damage. Given their location, trapped in the stairwell with their backs against a door that might yield at any moment to more enemies, Adrienne bit her lip and sidled up to the wooden portal, attempting to freeze the joints shut, then adding a two-inch-thick coating to the seams beween the door and the wall. It could be burned through by herself or Van if necessary, but she judged it more important to ensure that they were not simultaneously attacked from all sides than to give them access to the outside again. She really, really hoped that wasn't a mistake.
Sure enough, the Forsworn approaching from below did so with great haste, and the breton girl freed her lightweight sword from the scabbard at her waist. Stick behind Drayk and watch his back. Look for openings. I can do that.
The sound of numerous feet pounding up the stairs reached Sinderion's ears at about the same time as the call of the hagraven. Suppressing his equally-inhuman reaction to it with a visible shudder, the elf drew his bow all the way back, firing as soon as the first Forsworn came into range. The tight quarters meant his arrows wouldn't be of use for long, but he intended to capitalize for as long as possible and thin the numbers as much as he could. The shot was good, and buried itself in the neck of one of the lesser Forsworn warriors, dropping him. The obstacle created by his body slowed the incoing forces considerably, but Sinder's next shot went wide by centimeters, clipping the cheek of a Briarheart before hitting the stone wall and snapping violenty.
It was hard to pick out how many there were from scent alone, becuase frankly, they all smelled atrocious. The altmer resisted the urge to cover his nose and mouth to block out the stench- his nose might well be useful later even if it nearly pained him now.
Drayk took up his position at the top of the stairs, aiming to make something of a choke point, to allow the others to take them out while he held the line. Sinder got right to work, but the speed they advanced with meant that they were soon on them, wailing like so many fanatics and looking to split heads open with their bone axes. They were all armed with melee weapons, having prepared for the close quarters. The first to reach the top of the stairs looked to leap over the one-man shield wall that Drayk had created, but he caught him in mid jump, slamming the wind out of him and dumping him off to the side, where he landed awkwardly on his head. Adrienne would have to deliver the killing blow to him, though, as the next made his attempt.
His bone axe came down with a solid thwack, clanging off the wood of Drayk's shield. He deflected the blow to the side, before giving the Forsworn warrior a kick to the chest, sending him back into two of his fellows, one of which was the Briarheart, armed with twin swords. The group of enemies was stalled for a moment, and clustered, too. "Someone blast them before they crawl back up here!" Drayk shouted.
He didn't have to ask twice. At the call, Van was there over his shoulder. His left hand suddenly erupted in a symphony of static pops and crackles, accompanying the white electricity that danced across his fingertips dangerously. In his other hand, the steel longsword stood at the ready. A spark flickered across Van's eyes, though whether it was the reflection of the electricity in his hand or something more sinister remained to be seen. Either way, he pointed his hand of death down the staircase and let loose a steady stream of lightning, striking foes and bouncing off one another. If one would peel their eyes away from the spectacle, they would find a murderous grin plastered to his lips
His stream kept up until he was drained of his magicka at which the sparks flickered out, as did the grin on Van's face. The result was a number of charred bodies blocking the path of the Forsworn who did not suffer the lightning as bad. With his magicka now drained, Van drew his shortsword in his lef thand and pushed in front of Drayk. The man's healing prowess would do better if he had someone to heal. Besides, if Van was beginning to get overwhelmed all he had to do was shift back behind Drayk and allow his shield to take the blows. With some semblance of a plan in Van's mind, he shouted a wordless challenge and banged his weapons together. He may have been older, but he never forgot the thrill of battle.
A rather impressive full-man block from Drayk dumped a Forsworn quite literally at her feet. Adrienne blinked, a trifle surprised, but did what she'd been trained to do and plunged her slender blade into his exposed neck. Quick, clean, simple. That was how the Mentor preferred it, and though she had on a few occasions enjoyed it a litte too much, she had no love of prolonged conflict. There was more than one Forsworn to be dealt with though, and the numbers were definitely not to the Sellswords' advantage. Time to even the field a bit, I think.
Closing her free fist, Adrienne banished the ice spell and drew up another, this one in the Conjuration school. The bound battleaxe appeared in the mortal plane fresh from Oblivion, flying end-over-end and embedding itself in the nearest enemy body, a woman with a sword and shield. The small Sellsword wasn't done there, however, and swapped techniques yet again, calling up a much more powerful magic from behind the safety of her companion's shield. Come on, here we go... Atronachs still required an intense kind of focus, this ice one moreso than a flame would have. Slowing the enemy down would be a nice compliment to the world of mana-draining hurt that Van was putting on the rebel Bretons right now, though. Adrienne closed her eyes focusing on nothing but summoning the chill construct. As silly as it might have sounded, thinking of cold things really did help, and it wasn't long before gooseflesh erupted along her arms and legs. An exhale took with it a puff of steam, and at last the creature resolved into existence, charging forward to engage the line immediately. The briarheart found one of his swords frozen to the ground when the first spell the atronach hurled missed his hand by a few inches.
Adrienne let her eyes snap open, directing the atronach's progress mentally while keeping tabs on the bound battleaxe as well. She wasn't much to write home about at great range, but these spells were her way of making up for that.