Laurelle chuckled a little at Taras' layout. "Things never go quite to plan," She commented. "But it's as good as any as far as initial ideas go." Carefully drawing her daggers from their places at her hip, the thief wished now that she was wearing something a little more practical than her traveling dress. As dresses went it wasn't the worst thing she could have chosen, but...
Skye nodded, drawing her sword. "We'd better throw up wards." She said. "I'd worry about the sound, but..." She paused so that the staccato of repeated magical surges, varying in sound and length, could be heard as they wavered through the air. "Yeah." Her fingers flickering in movements that had to have been difficult with her gauntlet, she cast her spell. With a rush of arcane power, an incandescent oval of pale blue light coalesced around her form, shrouding her in the protective energy of a magical shield. Laurelle similarly encased herself in a pale pink ward. The knight stepping in front of her in line with Taras, they marched close to the city wall at a cautious pace, eyes out for soldiers.
The smoke clouding the air made it difficult to see or breathe, and sometimes they had to rush through a patch of it, holding their breath. The sounds of combat were never far, ranging from the surge of magic to the metal-on-metal clash of sword against sword. The smell of burning flesh was also omnipresent; in addition to offensive fire magic, it seemed that not everyone hade made it out of the numerous blazing buildings in time. Laurelle looked sick, although it was more because of the disgusting disregard for life than any the smells and sounds themselves. The screams were the worst, to Skye. As a soldier, you never quite got used to the agonized voice of a dying enemy. Or a dying friend. She tried her best to put it out of her mind, comforting herself with the thought that they were here to put an end to all this madness.
"I see something!"
The voice came out of the smoke, drifting on the wind to reach their ears. Skye set her feet, holding her sword in a defensive stance. She held her breath, not wanting to give away their position if they were Hendricks' men, but out of the clouds of soot walked several armored men anyway. The armor was just chain shirts and they carried an assortment of weapons; three men, one of whom had a broadsword, one a hand-axe and shield, and the last a longspear. They didn't wait to ask questions before they charged at the sight of unfamiliar people bearing weapons. Skye gritted her teeth and ran out to meet them.
She made a beeline for the shield-bearer, slipping past a swing of the broadsword and pushing her Focus forward to discharge a gust of wind that not only cleared the area of smoke but whipped at her target, pushing him back and almost knocking him off his feet. As she rushed him with her weapon, he yelled an incantation and a spear of ice materialized, hurtling through the air toward her. It smashed into her armor, shattering and throwing fragments into the air, but didn't have enough force to stop her. The man desperately raised his shield, and the clash of metal rang out through the air. But before he could counterattack after blocking her attack, her gauntleted hand came around his shield and smoothly sailed into his face as she cast another spell. At point blank range, the blast of wind was devastating, blowing him off his feet and scattering his armaments around him.
Laurelle stayed behind Taras, concentrating on casting a pain spell, her hands dancing in the intricate movements of the lengthy arcane process. The other three could handle their assailants in the meantime, and if they hadn't downed them before her spell finished, then her spell would.