High-Ground Charge

*Raaaagghkk!?*

A zombie that looked more akin to a skeleton gives out a growled yelp as a fireball strikes it in the face, an explosion rings out as it impacts, killing five or so more undead that'd been stood beside it.

"Geeeet theeeeee-eeem!" a number of voices shout as the zombies finally notice their quarry. A stream of people charges over the nearby hill while launching a litany of spells. Most actually miss their targets, but there were so many zombies that it didn't matter in the end.

With the enemy in sight the rest of the zombies screech and start shambling towards them, completely uncaring of the corpses dropping left right and center, some frozen solid, some burned to a crisp, and some spasming with residual electricity.

Michael leads the charge down the snowy hill and things were looking good until he realised a small mistake he'd made...

"Oooohh, shiiiii-iiiiit! Friends help!" Borvir screams like a girl as he loses his footing and begins sliding down the snow hill, the path his ass leaves revealing the slippery ice beneath the snow. Borvir was just the start of the disaster however, as more and more people begin following along with him.

A fall like this wasn't all that dangerous, if it weren't for the army of zombies steadily making their way to the base of the hill...

"Conjurers! Call your summons!" Michael exclaims, wishing to get the front line set up as soon as possible.

Fortunately, a few Conjurers hadn't yet lost their footing, allowing them to summon their familiars... Most weren't able to conjure their creatures at the base of the hill, so doing it on the hill itself would have to do... At worst, the summons would just slide down there anyway.

"Serpent Wards!" Michael casts, summoning Rhasta's Spirit Familiars on the hill to act as makeshift artillery and slow the undead, if slightly.

A few of the Restoration Mages had refused to follow their comrades onto the slippery hill after witnessing the disaster occurring before them, so a good number of people were simply sitting atop it and watching the battle from afar. Michael would make sure to memorize those faces so they'd get nothing but scorn as a reward for this task.

Soon enough, Michael makes it to the bottom of the hill and springs into action while the others were recovering. He charges the undead with the unhappy-sounding Derflinger in head and the Novice Destruction spell; Flames in the other.

A red spell washes over him, one he recognises to be the Courage Illusion spell. It was pretty much all the Illusion specialized mages could do too, as only Expert and Master ranked Illusion Mages were able to affect the undead with such spells.

To be frank, the zombies were pretty underwhelming, being slightly weaker than an average human. Even an army like this wasn't enough to threaten the Mages here, but that was only the case if they kept their composure... Not many could face the undead with confidence, and even less could face off with an army without fleeing.

The Apprentice's fear quickly faded as the fighting started however, Atronach's charged into the army, Frost Atronach squashing their bodies underfoot, Flame Atronach's simply gliding past and incinerating any that came close... There was a single Storm Atronach as well which was siting at the back and doing its own thing...

Soon enough, Borvir and Rundi recovered their footing and joined Michael in battle, casting Stoneflesh and readying a Firebolt spell in one hand while raising steel axes in the other. Their physical might not be comparable to the Companions, but as Nords, they were taught to fight and defend themselves as children... Fighting face to face with their foes was in their blood, despite the fact that they'd become mages.

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"Master! The College, they've found us!" Sorkas exclaims as he runs back into the cave after checking to see the commotion outside.

"So soon!? How many conjurations have been created!?" Malyn angrily asks.

"T-thirty Atronachs, forty wolf familiars, five Dremora, and ten skeletons, Master!" Jernil lists off.

Malyns growls, "It's not enough! Not enough! But we have no time left! Send them all to fight! Along with you, go kill those College dogs!"

"Yes master!" both Nords shout before exiting with the small army of conjured beings following them, leaving Nelacar alone in the cave with Malyn...

The master looks down to continue his hasty work but pauses and glances towards Nelacar who was still fumbling around, "What are you doing!? GO, NOW!"

"A-at once, Master!" he stutters out and quickly leaves, not wanting to be alone and at the mercy of his clearly deranged master.

The sight outside greets him, and for a moment he'd thought that he'd been abducted by a Daedra and transported to a war... Lightning, Fire, and Ice was flying everywhere courtesy of the Mages and Atronachs, the smell of burnt flesh assaults his senses, screams of both terror and battle ring out. It was complete sensory overload.

He looks to the side and spots Sorkas and Jernil attempting to lead the army of conjured creatures around to assault the vulnerable side of the College forces... A few enemy Atronachs attempt to block their paths, but the group of Dremora charge them and destroy them in what some might call a 'simple manner'.

Nelacar had no idea who would win this, but he was sure of one thing... He wasn't going to stick around to find out. Without waiting for another second, he begins running in the opposite direction of the army and the cave, unconsciously heading straight for the Shrine of Azura atop the nearby mountain.