Replicus was still frozen in thought, tens of debates occurring in his head every inch of every moment when the calm voice of Pherdanta called to him, inquiring what they should do with a simple word.
"Master..."
The Penetrator's sockets flashed glaringly, and with his finger under the chin of his helmet, Replicus offered a response contained gloriously in a single word as well.
"Araeyn."
At that moment, the pale Apostle in the pale armour, with somewhat long tufts of pale, sickly hair was spurred into action. He looked ahead with his hollow, eyeless sockets at the rapidly approaching enemies that then blasted out streams of energy with their wands and he remained calm.
Rather, he retained his dazed, couldn't-care-less look.
Something wrapped tight around his arm unravelled, and whipped out just before the attacks could reach anyone on the cloud.