Despite all of Ashton's skills in the art of stealth, it was inevitable that he become noticed sooner or later. It turned out it had been the former. He fired off another arrow, tagging a Qunari in a leg before hesitating and watching the wrestling going on between the Chevalier and a Qunari. Ash was quite impressed with the man, one didn't see a man kill a Qunari with his bare hands before. He made a mental note to try his best to never get on the man's bad side... Or be a decent distance away from the man. Most likely the latter.
Alas, Ashton's spectating was cut short when a javelin flew past him. The hunter's instinct saved him that day, as he only heard the whistling of a long wooden pole being flung through the air before his body reacted, jerking himself out of the path and letting it embed into the ground at his feet. An arrow was nocked and fired before he even managed to lay eyes on the offending Qunari, thus his own accuracy was lacking. The arrow was low and struck a rock, but Ashton's luck played a bit of a role as well. Due to the angle the arrow was fired at, instead of shattering against the stone, it ricocheted and bounced, striking the Qunari in the shin.
Later, they were all going to have a little discussion about this adventure, and that shot was sure to go into Ashton's highlights. However, there was work to be done and no time to celebrate, so he drew another arrow and nocked it, firing it at the Qunari. Followed by another, and another. Before long the target began to look more like a pincushion than a Qunari. Though Ashton didn't stop filling him with arrows until he fell. Precautions, he wasn't going to chance not doing the job all the way. Nothing worse than a pissed off Qunari after your own blood after all.
Though now his attention was drawn to the second Qunari, who was now quietly eyeing Nostariel. Ashton's eyes went wide as the Qunari's hand went to one of his Javelins unbeknownst to Nostariel. Ashton himself ripped the Javelin at his feet out of the ground and vanished into a puff of smoke. The Qunari had a grin spread across his lips, as the mage didn't even seem to realize she was in his sights. This was sure to be an easy kill for him, and even if they all died, he wouldn't go down without taking one with him. That was his last thought before he raised a Javelin to throw. His large muscles tensed as he began to throw, but suddenly stopped. Instead of the Javelin striking the mage, it fell harmlessly to the ground. The Qunari's eyes widened before they dimmed as a trickle of blood ran down his forehead, from an exit wound created by a javelin. He fell to his knees, and then keeled over, lifeless. Ashton stood behind the fallen Qunari, panting heavily and holding a bloody javelin.
He spun the weapon in the air before planting it into the ground beside him and leaning on it. Though still panting heavily, as the exertion of sprinting across the battlefield was heavy, he managed a wry grin and a quip. "It seems that he's got the... Point," he said before laughing to himself. He then pulled the javelin out of the ground and laid it across his shoulders, draping his arms over it and made his way to the Chevalier. "How about you champ? Didn't think I'd see someone wrestle with a Qunari and live," Ashton said and patted the man on the shoulder.
When the battle proper was said and done, Lucien was quite sure he was ready for a drink and a nap, preferably in that order. There was still work to be done, though, and he took a look over at the other two. "If it's not too much to ask, Nostariel, I could use a little help here." Oh yes, he would most certainly be writing home about this. At Ashton's comment, he smiled crookedly. "Just goes to show that the correlation between foolishness and death doesn't always hold, I suspect," he replied with a hint of self-effacement. To be sure, he'd paid for it, but his other options at the time had been rather limited to say the least, and, well... here he was, alive and still breathing.
Nostariel turned in just enough time to witness the javelin blossom from the kossith's head, the collapsing bandit reveling Ashton standing behind him, clearly having heavily exerted himself. By her lights, that was probably the second time he'd saved her egregious bodily injury in one skirmish. She most assuredly owed the man a drink, not to mention something for that exhaustion. At about the same time as she had the thought, her own wound twinged painfully, and she struggled to breathe normally. Lucien, the brave soul, was also apparently wounded, and Nostariel nodded to his request, a tad dizzy but otherwise fine to meet it. "Won't hurt a bit," she promised, something she'd learned to say in those cases where she had no idea if her patients had ever been subject to healing magic before or not.
So saying, she took a deep breath in an effort to clear her head and called the magic upwards from that internal wellspring, letting the mass healing seep into her skin slowly, that fresh, cooling sensation something she still relished. It felt new, every time, even as many times as she'd used it, which was saying something. Her shoulder-wound closed, and she sighed softly, shoulder slumping in relief. Trekking over to the two men, she indicated the nearby cave with a gesture. "I'm guessing there's more in there," she pointed out with resignation.
"Ah yes... the obligatory ominous cave. There's quite a number of these around here. They all start to look the same after a while," Lucien agreed amicably, rolling his shoulders. The pain in his arms and the wounds on his torso were completely gone, and he felt as though he'd had that nap after all. Gracing Nostariel with a grateful nod, he scratched absently at the back of his neck, leaning on his scythe with the opposite hand. As if reaching some kind of resolution, though, he arced it up and over, laying it over his shoulders with the unconscious ease of practice.
"Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Are both of you ready?"
"Always. Though I do find myself wishing we didn't have to go spelunking in order to fish the rest of his kin out," Ashton said pointing at the Qunari with his neck broken with his foot. "Wish we could do it somewhere scenic, but alas, it looks like we don't have a choice in the matter," Ashton added, shrugging. "Well, let us go introduce ourselves then. Maybe instead of fighting, they'll invite us in for tea. That'll be nice, wouldn't it Luce?" He said, still poking fun at the Chevalier for his earlier display. Despite the goodnatured ribbing, Ashton would be the first to admit that the man had more than enough strength to back up his words. Seeing a man snapping a Qunari's neck with his bare hands tends to do that.
"Compared to some of the places I've been, a cave sounds perfectly scenic," Nostariel contributed, her tone artificially light. Nevertheless, it was clear that she also was more than ready to proceed, though she was not so silly as to lead the way in hersef, not when there was a stone wall of a person perfectly capable of doing so with much less risk. She'd be quite content to stick to the back of the group, thank you very much.
The inside of the cave was, as Lucien and Ashton had suggested it would be, rather uninteresting. There was a mix of raw stone and reddish earth beneath their feet, and their path was narrowed so that at most wto people could walk abreast, sloping down into a circular area wherein sat a campfire and the paraphenalia of some kind of craft, perhaps carpentry, if the awl and chisel were anything to go by. It was completely empty, and the place was bare of any sound save the faint clinking of Lucien's armor and the muffled tread of her footsteps. If Ashton made any noise, it was indistinguishable from those two things. Not far from the lit fire, there was a stone-panel door, apparently worked to slide to one side. The plae must have been used before the Tal-Vashoth got here, perhaps as a longtime base of operations for another bandit group, because she couldn't imagine that the former Qunari had had the time to design and implement such details of architecture. Then again, they were supposedly an incredibly-efficient people, so maybe they had after all.
The Tal-Vashoth had not thrown away their best warriors in the first fight, as was obvious when the three encountered the group within the caves. These were clearly the strongest of the group, warriors who had perhaps come from higher ranks in the Antaam, as shown by their superior armor and weapons, and their mere presence. It was possible that these ones had simply proven themselves the strongest of the bandit kossith, and claimed their places atop the chain of command, forcing the lower ones to do their bidding, and bring them the spoils taken from the caravans foolish enough to travel the Wounded Coast road. Whatever the case, the group gathered to meet Lucien, Ashton, and Nostariel was far superior to the one outside, and more prepared as well.
The front line was made of armored kossith foot soldiers, a mix of lighter spearmen of the likes from the ambush, as well as warriors bearing sword and shield, as well as various pieces of scavenged Qunari armor, and even equipment taken from the bandits they had no doubt driven from this place originally. More spear-throwers were in place behind them, though not in the numbers they appeared outside. They appeared to be guarding a staircase in the rear of the area, one that led up to an upper level that overlooked the soon-to-be field of battle quite niecely.
Perched upon this overlook was the obvious commander of the group, a massive warrior with a full set of Qunari made armor, and a greatsword that cerrtainly only the strongest of individuals could wield with much speed. Next to him was the harrowing sight of a Qunari mage, a Saarebas, his mask shattered and removed from his face, his formerly sown lips at last cut free. The collar was not so easy to remove, however, and remained secured around his shoulders. Lightning arced between his hands as he prepared to unleash his pent up anger on the intruders. The leaders of the bandit group had obviously prepared a suitable defense against the attackers while the lesser among them delayed their progress outside.
"So... No tea then." Ashton deadpanned.
"Indeed not," Lucien replied in a similar manner. "And no surrendering either, from the looks of this arrangement-" It was of course right then that the first of the line intiated the charge, and the Chevalier cut off his words, in order that he might move to meet it. However long it turned out to be that he could withstand the blows of so many Tal-Vashoth, that span was longer than either Ashton or Nostariel would last, and so withstand it he would. Bolstering himself with a fortifying breath, he scythed through the line, leaving a good chunk of the warriors with wounds, though none fallen. It was of course practical to assume that these ones would be more hardy than their counterparts outside, and indeed that seemed to be more and more the case.
Fortunately for Lucien (and by extension, the others), he was no slouch himself, and successfully evaded the first set of blows meant to hack him into little Orlesian pieces. A heavy sword-blow rebounded off his plate armor, and his breath left him in a whoosh. Staggered for a moment by the impact, he missed the blast of flames directed at his blind side from above.
Perhaps obviously, it hurt. Under the force of the fire, his armor heated, scorching the tunic he wore under his chain, the rings undoubtedly branding small circles into the flesh beneath. Gritting his teeth, the Chevalier dealt with it, refusing to allow the burns to slow him down. If he could last long enough out here, Ashton and Nostariel would be able to thin the ranks and make his job easier in turn. For now, though, pure endurance was key. Hooking his weapon around the shield of one of the melee combatants, he pulled, leaving the fellow's otherwise-solid guard wide open for either one of the others to exploit. Teamwork was going to be essential if they all wanted to live through this.
And teamwork he got. As soon as the Chevalier ripped the shield away from the trunk of the Qunari, Ashton introduced him to a recently found friend. He bucked the javelin off of his shoulders and coiled back before launching it at the suddenly defenseless Qunari. Ashton's eye and aim proved true as the javelin struck the chest of the horn-head, tossing it to the ground and rending the shield from his hand. Now lightened of his ill-begotten gains, he drew his bow from across his chest and reached back for an arrow. He had his sights set on the Qunari commander and mage as he nocked a rather thick arrow. A Qunari mage. Where were all of these mages coming from? First Sparrow, then a blood mage courtesan, not to mention that one cult abducting templars that she belonged to. Nostariel. Now a Qunari. If this kept up, he wouldn't be surprised to find that he could communicate with the fade.
He took a steadying step, leveling a bead on the collared mage as well as the commander beside him and let the arrow sing. The flight path of this arrow was lazy and fat as it dropped faster than a normal arrow should. Instead of embedding in flesh, the arrow embedded in the wood beneath the Mage's feet. Only a moment went by however, and the purpose of the arrow was revealed. It exploded, but the force wasn't as heavy or shattering as the one he used against demon-y Wilmod. This one instead was a lot more bluster as smoke quickly began to billow and expand, engulfing the mage and commander, obscuring their view from their merry band of mercenaries.
Ashton figured that the screen would save Lucien from the trouble of any more annoying spells the mage had in store. With his original goal now accomplished, he glanced at Nostariel and gave her a mischievious glint before he took a step backwards into the shadows and utterly vanishing from sight. While Lucien would draw their attention and ire, he would be the grim hunter, eliminating foes from the shadows... Or something equally badass as he would tell Sparrow over a good bottle of spirits.
Nostariel had to give credit to the Tal-Vashoth: they knew how to assemble a lineup. If the Darkspawn were this good at organization and mixed tactics... well, there would be far fewer Wardens, and she'd be dead. Not that she planned on dying right now, either, of course: if there was one thing history had shown of her, it was that she had a tendency to survive even in instances where she didn't do much to guarantee it.
Her first move was a relatively simple one: spawn a firestorm, far enough away from Lucien and Ashton that they wouldn't end up bright and burning, and hope that at least a few of the incandescent flames would tear into the back ranks of fighters and spearmen so as to prevent them all from charging forward at once. More than one succeeded, but she didn't bother stopping to watch. From upwards and to the left, the mage- they called them Saarebas,? She was fairly certain Amalia had used that word to either Aurora or herself- spat fire of his own, and Lucien recieved what must have been a nasty burn to the abdomen. For all that, the knight seemed to be handling it rather well, and she decided to press on without healing anyone just yet.
Still, that wasn't the only way she could help them. Setting her feet, Nostariel planted her staff into the ground, the thud of its contact coinciding perfectly with the formation of shimmering, purplish barriers around herself and the others. An arcane shield was pehaps slightly misnamed- it caused attacks to fail in connecting rather than blocking them outright. Launching a winter's grasp on the tail of Ashton's smoke arrow, its trajectory thankfully set long before the fog obscured their vision. She was opening her mouth to ask him if he wanted ice arrows as well when he up and disappeared, leaving her momentarily at a loss.
Shrugging, she decided for him- for both of them, really, and dipped once more into the Fade, activating elemental weapons and then falling back on staff-magic for a while. Magic might be a renewable resource, but it wasn't entirely without end.
Alas, Ashton's spectating was cut short when a javelin flew past him. The hunter's instinct saved him that day, as he only heard the whistling of a long wooden pole being flung through the air before his body reacted, jerking himself out of the path and letting it embed into the ground at his feet. An arrow was nocked and fired before he even managed to lay eyes on the offending Qunari, thus his own accuracy was lacking. The arrow was low and struck a rock, but Ashton's luck played a bit of a role as well. Due to the angle the arrow was fired at, instead of shattering against the stone, it ricocheted and bounced, striking the Qunari in the shin.
Later, they were all going to have a little discussion about this adventure, and that shot was sure to go into Ashton's highlights. However, there was work to be done and no time to celebrate, so he drew another arrow and nocked it, firing it at the Qunari. Followed by another, and another. Before long the target began to look more like a pincushion than a Qunari. Though Ashton didn't stop filling him with arrows until he fell. Precautions, he wasn't going to chance not doing the job all the way. Nothing worse than a pissed off Qunari after your own blood after all.
Though now his attention was drawn to the second Qunari, who was now quietly eyeing Nostariel. Ashton's eyes went wide as the Qunari's hand went to one of his Javelins unbeknownst to Nostariel. Ashton himself ripped the Javelin at his feet out of the ground and vanished into a puff of smoke. The Qunari had a grin spread across his lips, as the mage didn't even seem to realize she was in his sights. This was sure to be an easy kill for him, and even if they all died, he wouldn't go down without taking one with him. That was his last thought before he raised a Javelin to throw. His large muscles tensed as he began to throw, but suddenly stopped. Instead of the Javelin striking the mage, it fell harmlessly to the ground. The Qunari's eyes widened before they dimmed as a trickle of blood ran down his forehead, from an exit wound created by a javelin. He fell to his knees, and then keeled over, lifeless. Ashton stood behind the fallen Qunari, panting heavily and holding a bloody javelin.
He spun the weapon in the air before planting it into the ground beside him and leaning on it. Though still panting heavily, as the exertion of sprinting across the battlefield was heavy, he managed a wry grin and a quip. "It seems that he's got the... Point," he said before laughing to himself. He then pulled the javelin out of the ground and laid it across his shoulders, draping his arms over it and made his way to the Chevalier. "How about you champ? Didn't think I'd see someone wrestle with a Qunari and live," Ashton said and patted the man on the shoulder.
When the battle proper was said and done, Lucien was quite sure he was ready for a drink and a nap, preferably in that order. There was still work to be done, though, and he took a look over at the other two. "If it's not too much to ask, Nostariel, I could use a little help here." Oh yes, he would most certainly be writing home about this. At Ashton's comment, he smiled crookedly. "Just goes to show that the correlation between foolishness and death doesn't always hold, I suspect," he replied with a hint of self-effacement. To be sure, he'd paid for it, but his other options at the time had been rather limited to say the least, and, well... here he was, alive and still breathing.
Nostariel turned in just enough time to witness the javelin blossom from the kossith's head, the collapsing bandit reveling Ashton standing behind him, clearly having heavily exerted himself. By her lights, that was probably the second time he'd saved her egregious bodily injury in one skirmish. She most assuredly owed the man a drink, not to mention something for that exhaustion. At about the same time as she had the thought, her own wound twinged painfully, and she struggled to breathe normally. Lucien, the brave soul, was also apparently wounded, and Nostariel nodded to his request, a tad dizzy but otherwise fine to meet it. "Won't hurt a bit," she promised, something she'd learned to say in those cases where she had no idea if her patients had ever been subject to healing magic before or not.
So saying, she took a deep breath in an effort to clear her head and called the magic upwards from that internal wellspring, letting the mass healing seep into her skin slowly, that fresh, cooling sensation something she still relished. It felt new, every time, even as many times as she'd used it, which was saying something. Her shoulder-wound closed, and she sighed softly, shoulder slumping in relief. Trekking over to the two men, she indicated the nearby cave with a gesture. "I'm guessing there's more in there," she pointed out with resignation.
"Ah yes... the obligatory ominous cave. There's quite a number of these around here. They all start to look the same after a while," Lucien agreed amicably, rolling his shoulders. The pain in his arms and the wounds on his torso were completely gone, and he felt as though he'd had that nap after all. Gracing Nostariel with a grateful nod, he scratched absently at the back of his neck, leaning on his scythe with the opposite hand. As if reaching some kind of resolution, though, he arced it up and over, laying it over his shoulders with the unconscious ease of practice.
"Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Are both of you ready?"
"Always. Though I do find myself wishing we didn't have to go spelunking in order to fish the rest of his kin out," Ashton said pointing at the Qunari with his neck broken with his foot. "Wish we could do it somewhere scenic, but alas, it looks like we don't have a choice in the matter," Ashton added, shrugging. "Well, let us go introduce ourselves then. Maybe instead of fighting, they'll invite us in for tea. That'll be nice, wouldn't it Luce?" He said, still poking fun at the Chevalier for his earlier display. Despite the goodnatured ribbing, Ashton would be the first to admit that the man had more than enough strength to back up his words. Seeing a man snapping a Qunari's neck with his bare hands tends to do that.
"Compared to some of the places I've been, a cave sounds perfectly scenic," Nostariel contributed, her tone artificially light. Nevertheless, it was clear that she also was more than ready to proceed, though she was not so silly as to lead the way in hersef, not when there was a stone wall of a person perfectly capable of doing so with much less risk. She'd be quite content to stick to the back of the group, thank you very much.
The inside of the cave was, as Lucien and Ashton had suggested it would be, rather uninteresting. There was a mix of raw stone and reddish earth beneath their feet, and their path was narrowed so that at most wto people could walk abreast, sloping down into a circular area wherein sat a campfire and the paraphenalia of some kind of craft, perhaps carpentry, if the awl and chisel were anything to go by. It was completely empty, and the place was bare of any sound save the faint clinking of Lucien's armor and the muffled tread of her footsteps. If Ashton made any noise, it was indistinguishable from those two things. Not far from the lit fire, there was a stone-panel door, apparently worked to slide to one side. The plae must have been used before the Tal-Vashoth got here, perhaps as a longtime base of operations for another bandit group, because she couldn't imagine that the former Qunari had had the time to design and implement such details of architecture. Then again, they were supposedly an incredibly-efficient people, so maybe they had after all.
The Tal-Vashoth had not thrown away their best warriors in the first fight, as was obvious when the three encountered the group within the caves. These were clearly the strongest of the group, warriors who had perhaps come from higher ranks in the Antaam, as shown by their superior armor and weapons, and their mere presence. It was possible that these ones had simply proven themselves the strongest of the bandit kossith, and claimed their places atop the chain of command, forcing the lower ones to do their bidding, and bring them the spoils taken from the caravans foolish enough to travel the Wounded Coast road. Whatever the case, the group gathered to meet Lucien, Ashton, and Nostariel was far superior to the one outside, and more prepared as well.
The front line was made of armored kossith foot soldiers, a mix of lighter spearmen of the likes from the ambush, as well as warriors bearing sword and shield, as well as various pieces of scavenged Qunari armor, and even equipment taken from the bandits they had no doubt driven from this place originally. More spear-throwers were in place behind them, though not in the numbers they appeared outside. They appeared to be guarding a staircase in the rear of the area, one that led up to an upper level that overlooked the soon-to-be field of battle quite niecely.
Perched upon this overlook was the obvious commander of the group, a massive warrior with a full set of Qunari made armor, and a greatsword that cerrtainly only the strongest of individuals could wield with much speed. Next to him was the harrowing sight of a Qunari mage, a Saarebas, his mask shattered and removed from his face, his formerly sown lips at last cut free. The collar was not so easy to remove, however, and remained secured around his shoulders. Lightning arced between his hands as he prepared to unleash his pent up anger on the intruders. The leaders of the bandit group had obviously prepared a suitable defense against the attackers while the lesser among them delayed their progress outside.
"So... No tea then." Ashton deadpanned.
"Indeed not," Lucien replied in a similar manner. "And no surrendering either, from the looks of this arrangement-" It was of course right then that the first of the line intiated the charge, and the Chevalier cut off his words, in order that he might move to meet it. However long it turned out to be that he could withstand the blows of so many Tal-Vashoth, that span was longer than either Ashton or Nostariel would last, and so withstand it he would. Bolstering himself with a fortifying breath, he scythed through the line, leaving a good chunk of the warriors with wounds, though none fallen. It was of course practical to assume that these ones would be more hardy than their counterparts outside, and indeed that seemed to be more and more the case.
Fortunately for Lucien (and by extension, the others), he was no slouch himself, and successfully evaded the first set of blows meant to hack him into little Orlesian pieces. A heavy sword-blow rebounded off his plate armor, and his breath left him in a whoosh. Staggered for a moment by the impact, he missed the blast of flames directed at his blind side from above.
Perhaps obviously, it hurt. Under the force of the fire, his armor heated, scorching the tunic he wore under his chain, the rings undoubtedly branding small circles into the flesh beneath. Gritting his teeth, the Chevalier dealt with it, refusing to allow the burns to slow him down. If he could last long enough out here, Ashton and Nostariel would be able to thin the ranks and make his job easier in turn. For now, though, pure endurance was key. Hooking his weapon around the shield of one of the melee combatants, he pulled, leaving the fellow's otherwise-solid guard wide open for either one of the others to exploit. Teamwork was going to be essential if they all wanted to live through this.
And teamwork he got. As soon as the Chevalier ripped the shield away from the trunk of the Qunari, Ashton introduced him to a recently found friend. He bucked the javelin off of his shoulders and coiled back before launching it at the suddenly defenseless Qunari. Ashton's eye and aim proved true as the javelin struck the chest of the horn-head, tossing it to the ground and rending the shield from his hand. Now lightened of his ill-begotten gains, he drew his bow from across his chest and reached back for an arrow. He had his sights set on the Qunari commander and mage as he nocked a rather thick arrow. A Qunari mage. Where were all of these mages coming from? First Sparrow, then a blood mage courtesan, not to mention that one cult abducting templars that she belonged to. Nostariel. Now a Qunari. If this kept up, he wouldn't be surprised to find that he could communicate with the fade.
He took a steadying step, leveling a bead on the collared mage as well as the commander beside him and let the arrow sing. The flight path of this arrow was lazy and fat as it dropped faster than a normal arrow should. Instead of embedding in flesh, the arrow embedded in the wood beneath the Mage's feet. Only a moment went by however, and the purpose of the arrow was revealed. It exploded, but the force wasn't as heavy or shattering as the one he used against demon-y Wilmod. This one instead was a lot more bluster as smoke quickly began to billow and expand, engulfing the mage and commander, obscuring their view from their merry band of mercenaries.
Ashton figured that the screen would save Lucien from the trouble of any more annoying spells the mage had in store. With his original goal now accomplished, he glanced at Nostariel and gave her a mischievious glint before he took a step backwards into the shadows and utterly vanishing from sight. While Lucien would draw their attention and ire, he would be the grim hunter, eliminating foes from the shadows... Or something equally badass as he would tell Sparrow over a good bottle of spirits.
Nostariel had to give credit to the Tal-Vashoth: they knew how to assemble a lineup. If the Darkspawn were this good at organization and mixed tactics... well, there would be far fewer Wardens, and she'd be dead. Not that she planned on dying right now, either, of course: if there was one thing history had shown of her, it was that she had a tendency to survive even in instances where she didn't do much to guarantee it.
Her first move was a relatively simple one: spawn a firestorm, far enough away from Lucien and Ashton that they wouldn't end up bright and burning, and hope that at least a few of the incandescent flames would tear into the back ranks of fighters and spearmen so as to prevent them all from charging forward at once. More than one succeeded, but she didn't bother stopping to watch. From upwards and to the left, the mage- they called them Saarebas,? She was fairly certain Amalia had used that word to either Aurora or herself- spat fire of his own, and Lucien recieved what must have been a nasty burn to the abdomen. For all that, the knight seemed to be handling it rather well, and she decided to press on without healing anyone just yet.
Still, that wasn't the only way she could help them. Setting her feet, Nostariel planted her staff into the ground, the thud of its contact coinciding perfectly with the formation of shimmering, purplish barriers around herself and the others. An arcane shield was pehaps slightly misnamed- it caused attacks to fail in connecting rather than blocking them outright. Launching a winter's grasp on the tail of Ashton's smoke arrow, its trajectory thankfully set long before the fog obscured their vision. She was opening her mouth to ask him if he wanted ice arrows as well when he up and disappeared, leaving her momentarily at a loss.
Shrugging, she decided for him- for both of them, really, and dipped once more into the Fade, activating elemental weapons and then falling back on staff-magic for a while. Magic might be a renewable resource, but it wasn't entirely without end.