Chaos ensued as the horde frenzied, passing flame from greenskin to greenskin. Some were seen running alight along the pathways of Greshfell, only to fall, the flames robbing them of life. The rain pounded relentlessly, but the magical nature of the flame allowed it to burn regardless.
“Rohlen!” said Fraevon, a hint of concern within his voice, yet seemingly distracted by something else. The mage did not respond. “Rohlen!” he said again.
“What is it?” replied Rohlen, his attention being directed by his sister tugging his arm.
“Did you mean for the town to burn also?”
The four of them watched the thatch on a couple of the outer buildings burn intensely, threatening to consume that of the building next to it.
Tumbor meanwhile continued to cut a bloody destructive path into Greshfell, the erupting flumes of fire only enraging his wrath still further.
“No! No that was not the plan,” mumbled Rohlen angrily. “Now I’m going to have to subdue the spell.”
“Let us hope it was enough to reduced their number to something more favourable,” smirked Jax.
“I think the dwarf is doing a good job of that also,” remarked Fraevon, wincing at the sight of the dwarf’s axe splitting a goblin top to bottom, much to the dwarf’s obvious glee.
“Rohlen,” said Jax. “Do what you can to stop the town from becoming ash, while Fraevon and I go rescue our suicidal friend.”
“And I?” asked Yulien, readying her horse to join the two of them.
Jax looked at her, the concern combined with a willingness to fight if needed, etched upon her face.
“Just be ready,” he replied.