Snippet #2668202

Mercy looks to Gofefray's wave of fire headed his way, then to the dwarf, Bolin, cutting through his men, a look of disapproval upon his face as he slowly shakes his head. "Be silent," he mutters holding his hand out to the wave of flames, various light blue glowing marks appearing across his exposed skin, upon further inspection it is in fact his veins. As the flame touches his hand it bursts into a rain of embers, dispersed by his dampening field.

He shoves his nearest subordinate away and signals to disperse. It wasn't a tactical decision, the men were clearly various shades of green, having not been in real combat, rookies he had likely been training himself and he wasn't prepared to sacrifice them in this endeavor.

"I had hoped this would be easier, but I knew otherwise... still, cannot fault a man for trying," Mercy says, taking off his rags of a coat revealing a vest underneath and each of his arms from wrist up to shoulder had grown a boney plating of armor, carved ornate into a shape like the feathers of a dove.

"I'm sorry I won't be meeting you blade-to-blade, but I've lost faith in instruments of death," with this he kicks up a sizable rock and catches it with one hand, giving it a mighty toss at Bolin as he draws near.