Everything had happened so quickly, Neyira had barely gotten any time to retaliate.
One moment it was all serene (as serene as it could be in such a place); the Scourge were on one end of their battlefield, while the Argent Crusade and the adventurers were on the other. Then suddenly, as if driven by some misguided urge, Lethean and Ian had both turned as one and charged Darren, Oliver, Grimgor and herself, weapons poised. Ian had struck Darren with a vicious knee to the ribs, knocking the mage back and the breath out of him with a whoosh. As he hit the ground, Ian turned to her, his sword raised. She could already feel and see the dark, manipulated frost magic converging around him. Damn, she thought to herself. She raised her twin runeblades as Lethean chased Oliver into a nearby corpse of trees and shrubbery. Grimgor himself was muttering obscenities, chasing after the two and disappearing into the bushes with them.
Snarling and realizing there was nothing she could do, she faced Ian. "Eventually you fools will realize your persistence will be your end!" She drew upon the energies of her runeblades, creating a blast of frigid, howling winds. The winds carried razor-sharp shards of ice that pierced Ian's cold, dead skin as the wind struck him. Satisfied he would be distracted, she charged him and spun, delivering a vicious strike to his left thigh. She felt blood spurt from the wound, and grinned fiercely beneath her helm. Let's see you fight me wth that.
Lethean was like a ferocious panther, chasing his prey into the dense foilage. Shadowfrost gleamed with light, dried blood still clinging to the rune-inscribed blade of ebony. Lethean chopped his way into the thick, dead brush. Where is the little bastard... His eyes flared brightly as they scanned his surroundings, but he found no sight of the forsaken who carried his dagger.
"Come out, come out wherever you are... " He heard a branch snap, and his twitched as he listened intently. Nothing...