Snippet #2075615

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The Sellswords had managed to deal with the last of the Forsworn warriors coming up from below, but there was still the matter of the enemy frost atronach to deal with, as well of the leaders of this particular band of Forsworn located across the bridge. For the moment, Adrienne's frost atronach was blocking the entrance, but it clearly wasn't going to be able to hold up much longer, as the archers across the bridge were pounding it with arrows.

The atronach clearly wanted to get at Vanryth, the source of the flames which were bothering it far moreso than the others, but Drayk quickly positioned himself in front of it, just as he felt the effects of Adrienne's spell. If nothing else, it would let him stand up to it longer. Van's fire had done a good deal to dampen the storm of ice surrounding the atronach, but unfortunately, the flames were doing just as much to mess with Drayk's head as they were to harm the atronach. It bellowed a sound from its core that was reminiscent of pain or anguish, or perhaps frustration, the light in its chest pulsing rather violently. The flames enveloping it danced over its body, and whatever positive effect Adrienne was having was wiped out and then some by his proximity to the burning atronach.

He felt sluggish, almost dizzy, even. Maybe his eyes were watering. Or maybe the atronach was melting, he couldn't tell. As if in a dream, he barely managed to get his guard up in time as the atronach slammed down on him with its club fist, sending him reeling from the shock of the blow. He was vaguely aware of Adrienne shuffling forward to strike at its side. In seeming annoyance, it retaliated with a stab of its blunted spear arm, before returning its focus forward.

At that instant, a second explosion rocked the doorway, though this time it was of fire, and not frost. Adrienne's frost atronach shattered entirely as a fireball exploded violently in front of it, and the pleased shriek of the hagraven beyond the bridge identified its source. Arrows began to flit through the air again, smacking against the far wall as they sailed through the room on the third floor. The fiery blast had distracted Drayk more than enough for the atronach to get in a clean blow to the body, smashing him sideways with the club fist. There was a sound crack of ribs as the shield armed mage was hurled back into the wall against the stairs. His head rather forcefully hit the wall before he toppled to the ground and tumbled about halfway down the stairs, coming to a stop face down, and not initially showing any signs of movement. The shield wall out of its way, the atronach made a beeline towards Van, looking to pulverize the fire-caster before it was inevitably destroyed.

The club-arm of the atronach came flying for her, and Adreinne was forced to duck back, dancing out of range with practiced, but perhaps overy-hasty movements. Attributable perhaps to her nervousness, one of her feet caught the other, and she stumbled even as her own atronach blew apart in a violent explosion of flame and shards of ice. One of the latter whizzed right by her face, catching skin and giving her cheekbone a ragged cut. She winced when the warm sensation of her own blood trickling down her face hit her, but this was nothing compared to what she'd have to deal with if-

"No!" She saw the atronach's next attack coming far too late, and watched with horror-stricken features as Drayk was thrown backwards, colliding hard with the wall and stairs, and she knew also that there wasn't another restoration specialist among them. What was more, the Oblivion-summoned construct did not seem inclined to stop there, and she scrambled back to her feet even as it summarily ignored her existence and made right for Van. It was at this point that Adrienne realized she had a decision to make: leave her friend to come around on his own and try to aid in the ongoing struggle against the ice-monster (with no magicka left and naught but a lightweight sword to her name), or see if there was something she could do to get Drayk back on his feet (with absolutely no skill in healing magic whatsoever).

It was far from the most pleasant of decisions, but at least it was easy. Wiping the thin lines of blood from below her cut with the back of a hand, she probably only succeeded in smearing it everywhere, but at least the distracting feeling was gone. Trusting in Sinder and Aria to be more use against the atronach than she would be, she hurried down the stairs, gingerly but rapidly picking her way around the various corpses that lined the walkway. Corpses... no. It was best not to think that way at present.

Sheathing her blade, the girl dug around in her pockets until she produced what she was looking for: a small glass bottle with a cherry-red liquid inside. She never thought she'd be thanking the nine for her alchemical talents, not when they had always been so inferior to the abilities she'd wanted, but right about now, anything would do. Pulling the cork atop the bottle out with her teeth, she dropped into a kneel beside Drayk and tried to turn him over with one hand. It wasn't working too well, so she set the bottle down on the stair above her and tried again. "Okay, come on Drayk, help me out here. Please be conscious, please be conscious..." Of course, the chances of that weren't terribly good, and what she really meant was please be alive.

Aria's shot was as precise as he'd come to expect, and Sinder rolled to his feet, aware that with that, the last of the flanking party was taken care of. That still left the majority of the enemy force, however, and-

The shattering of Adrienne's atronach was punctuated with the wild call of a hagraven, and Sinderion's entire frame stiffened, save his hands, which clenched uncomfortably into fists, the trail of his steel-hard claws leaving shallow furrows in the stone stairs. Wait... what? The altmer looked with disbelief at his hands, which had indeed sprouted too-familiar claws, and his panic was the only thing that broke the tide of rage fermenting slowly under his skin. As quickly as they had come, the razor-sharp protrusions retracted, leaving him at once trembling with both fear and a nameless, animal anger. How could he lose his grip that easily? It was but one hagraven, and he was better than this.

This particular realization was not quite enough to quell the snarl that ripped from his throat when Drayk went soaring over his head, and his hesitence, his weakness, might as well have caused his friend's injury. Surging to his feet, Sinder tightened his grip on both his weapons and launched himself at the atronach blocking his way to that damned hagraven. This needed to end, and as soon as possible. He wasn't sure how much longer his body- and more importantly, his mind- would be his, but he really didn't want to find out.

It was with the fervor of a desperate man, then, that he hacked away at the ice atronach, heedless of the damage he was doing to his blades, all too consumed in the satisfying crunch of landing a solid hit, in the shattering sound the largest chunks of ice made when they fell to the stone beneath his feet. He didn't notice it when his irises changed color, deepening from a bright blue to fully black, though he did register dimly the correspoding shift in his sight, sharpened as it grew. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't think to connect the boon with its implications.

If he could speak, a slew of curses would fly out of Van's mouth. Alas, all that he could muster was a disapproving grunt. Drayk was sent flying by the enemy atronach as their friendly atronach was blown to bits by a Hagraven's fireball. The sudden appearance of all the fire probably had something to do with Drayk's recent carelessness. Beside him, Sinder pounced like a wolf on his prey, the offending frost atronach. Again, perhaps his sudden ferocity had something to do with the Hagraven outside. A shame how such a simple job could throw them all in such turmoil.

Alas, Van wasn't immune to his vices either, and he felt his rage building. A familiar feeling that always receded when he was either detained or had blood on his hands. Luckily, a frost atronach wouldn't bleed. He left his shortsword in the Forsworn to be collected later and followed behind the steps of Sinder, assualting the atronach in tandem. As he approached, he let a gout of fire burn at the icy exterior.

The fire melted the ice and weakened the intergrety enough so that when Van struck with his blade, it pierced deep within the icy beast. Leaving it for a moment, Van drew upon his magicka with both hands and let out a combined spray of fire, and used the metal blade as a focus to heat up the interior of the creature. He summoned every bit of magickal fire he could and held up the torrent until every ounce of magicka drained his body. But he still wasn't done. Rage guiding his hand he grasped the red hot hilt of his blade and pushed. The ice of the frost atronach gave no resistance to the heated blade cut the creature in twain.

For his efforts he recieved a brand on his hand and the pain only enraged him further. He turned, picked up a forsworn sword and looked to find his next corpse.

The first thing that came back to Drayk was the smell. Magical fire had always had a uniquely beautiful aroma for him, although in recent years it had taken on a more acrid stench as he had trained himself to be repulsed by it. It filled his nostrils now, the scent making his body tense subconsciously. Everything else was swirling darkness and intense agony, suffocating him when he tried to draw breath. The feelings of his body returned to him, and with it the excruciating pain in his chest, and the throbbing in his head.

There was a touch, and then a shove, trying to push him somewhere. His free hand pushed against the ground slightly to help the presence, and he felt himself eventually tipped over onto his back, a dozen swords stabbing through his chest with the simple movement, a heavy, pained groan escaping his lips. He lay there in darkness and pain for a moment, until a liquid dripped into his mouth, and everything came rushing back, an explosion in his mind setting fire to his body.

The fight, the battle, the Forsworn. The atronach, the fire. It had worn down his defense quicker than any blade could have. The fire. The fire. It had called to him, even before Vanryth had ignited the frost atronach. He had felt the desire the second he'd seen that thing, with the knowledge that he could have obliterated it with the power he had once commanded. Power that was still there, if he only had the will to call her back. He could chain her this time, bind her to his will. Force her to submit to him, and not allow himself to be tossed about on her whims any longer. It had been so long since...

No. He rejected the idea, disgust filling his core. He knew where that led. To the deaths of everyone close to him, to the destruction of any kind of stability he'd managed to build in his life. He'd obliterate this frost atronach and these Forsworn with his shield if he had to, with his bare hands. Not with fire. His eyes shot open, only the ceiling above him filling his vision. There was a presence nearby, one that he initially treated as a threat, his gauntleted right hand closing into a fist. When he turned his head, he saw Adrienne there beside him, and his prepared attack immediately dissipated, his hand relaxing. He took a glance around from the ground. The Forsworn were dead, at least in here, as was the atronach.

He coughed rather violently then, spitting a rather large amount of blood to the side, before letting his head fall back to the ground, and exhaling deeply, grimacing at what was obviously a large amount of pain. He managed to gather the energy for a minor healing spell, and the pain in his chest lessened slightly. This fight was certainly going to leave a few marks on him.

"Remind me to dodge next time," he said weakly, something of a grin forming on his face.