The wind howls past and with it comes a realization for Claude he should probably feel the cold or at least the stinging pellets of snow as they hit him in that gust from higher up from the mountain peaks. But he doesn't, on either account, in a way that doesn't bode well for being out in the elements for this long; there's no time to worry about that now. Sagittae's arrows strike true, thankfully, though he didn't notice that at first either with how the Acolytes had turned to him.
One step back for some distance even if he's aware of presences behind him which may not be friendly, and Claude readies the spell again with its glimmers winding around the fingers of one hand. Before he can raise it with more strength behind it this time (he hopes) - a figure passes by overhead.
For a second Claude doesn't move, only because he can't place the sight and with so many events over the past few days the possibility of yet another foe nearly turns his blood to ice in his veins. But. No such thing occurs because there's a blade emerging from somewhere and a familiar noise Claude knows means death, and then the acolyte who'd raised his own weapon falls to the ground.
The crouched figure rises and turns and the step Claude takes back this time is in complete wariness. But the face registers and he blinks in shock when he realizes he's looking at Altaïr. A laugh leaves him, choked as it is from disbelief, relief, and other things threading through it. "I've never been so glad to see you in my life, my friend."
A better reunion will have to wait, but it's forthcoming as Claude nods to the man in question. There's more to be accomplished here. The other Acolytes have backed up suspiciously, and that's all the opportunity Claude needs. He lets the magic fly with force, and the arrows nail two more Acolytes dead center in their chests. They stagger back and create the room Altaïr may need for maximum damage with his sword, and this time Claude calls forth wind to send a storm of fine powdery snow to lower the Acolytes' visibility while leaving their own path to advance quite clear.
no subject
One step back for some distance even if he's aware of presences behind him which may not be friendly, and Claude readies the spell again with its glimmers winding around the fingers of one hand. Before he can raise it with more strength behind it this time (he hopes) - a figure passes by overhead.
For a second Claude doesn't move, only because he can't place the sight and with so many events over the past few days the possibility of yet another foe nearly turns his blood to ice in his veins. But. No such thing occurs because there's a blade emerging from somewhere and a familiar noise Claude knows means death, and then the acolyte who'd raised his own weapon falls to the ground.
The crouched figure rises and turns and the step Claude takes back this time is in complete wariness. But the face registers and he blinks in shock when he realizes he's looking at Altaïr. A laugh leaves him, choked as it is from disbelief, relief, and other things threading through it. "I've never been so glad to see you in my life, my friend."
A better reunion will have to wait, but it's forthcoming as Claude nods to the man in question. There's more to be accomplished here. The other Acolytes have backed up suspiciously, and that's all the opportunity Claude needs. He lets the magic fly with force, and the arrows nail two more Acolytes dead center in their chests. They stagger back and create the room Altaïr may need for maximum damage with his sword, and this time Claude calls forth wind to send a storm of fine powdery snow to lower the Acolytes' visibility while leaving their own path to advance quite clear.