[ Sylvain is no stranger to weaving his attacks between magic flying around him. He's very accustomed to knowing he's got Annette or Ashe or both on his flank, so he doesn't even flinch at projectiles whizzing past him anymore. Even if it's a strange magic that is vastly different than what he's accustomed to.
A storm of lightning rains down on the mass of creatures before he even reaches him. and he'd marvel at that if he weren't suddenly occupied with several of them up close and personal. His lance is wielded with deadly accuracy, both at range and closer than that. Whenever he positions himself well enough to be able to hit several with one slash, he calls on his magic and infuses the relic with it, the crest gleaming with crimson menace among the jagged bone. Flames streak as he delivers a powerful blow, calling on ruined sky as his enemies are set alight and then dissolve into ash - which is far more effective here in the horizon than it had ever been back home.
His shield definitely pops in there somewhere and he absently makes note of it, but he's also used to being surrounded and taking the hits so others won't, and it barely gives him pause. Even if he's not wearing plate mail or mounted at the moment. There's still a caster vulnerable behind him and he doesn't even question his role in his fight.
Although he does hiss out in pained annoyance when one of the creatures gets a lucky strike in and somehow he feels a hand full of claws rake down his side. He hadn't even realized they had those. Pissed, he stabs the thing with extra prejudice, before flinging it into the closest approaching mass of bodies to knock them all prone. ]
that would require him figuring out what the hell a macro is
A storm of lightning rains down on the mass of creatures before he even reaches him. and he'd marvel at that if he weren't suddenly occupied with several of them up close and personal. His lance is wielded with deadly accuracy, both at range and closer than that. Whenever he positions himself well enough to be able to hit several with one slash, he calls on his magic and infuses the relic with it, the crest gleaming with crimson menace among the jagged bone. Flames streak as he delivers a powerful blow, calling on ruined sky as his enemies are set alight and then dissolve into ash - which is far more effective here in the horizon than it had ever been back home.
His shield definitely pops in there somewhere and he absently makes note of it, but he's also used to being surrounded and taking the hits so others won't, and it barely gives him pause. Even if he's not wearing plate mail or mounted at the moment. There's still a caster vulnerable behind him and he doesn't even question his role in his fight.
Although he does hiss out in pained annoyance when one of the creatures gets a lucky strike in and somehow he feels a hand full of claws rake down his side. He hadn't even realized they had those. Pissed, he stabs the thing with extra prejudice, before flinging it into the closest approaching mass of bodies to knock them all prone. ]
Okay, they're starting to get annoying.