The might of blue robed mages
Boom! Ossa was hit, a painful cry escaping his jaws.
Luckily, his bones did not shatter; the flames instead engulfed him,his ethereal mind breaking as he felt the pain of being burnt alive. His bones charred yet he felt the pain directly in his soul, the holy magic doing it's job.
"Wind," he muttered unconsciously, his wind coat extending as it pushed away the holy flames.
Enraged, he turned towards his assailant, his gaze settling on one out of the ten who had shot at him. "Only one person... No, I can sense nine more," he thought, calming his rage as he knew emotions like rage always brought regretful experiences.
Ossa stood there silently, pondering his next move.
The battlefield was filled with the growls of shadow wolves and the heavy breathing of men.
Between Ossa and the ten, there was palpable tension in the air, at least for Ossa who was still in thought.