"I wouldn't do that, if I were you!" James called out to the warlock. He had ridden up behind him and the woman and dismounted, and was now some 20 or 30 yards from where they were standing. His sword was drawn from it's sheath, and it glistened in the streams of light penetrating the thick foliage of the treetops. His heavy oak shield was in his left hand, a series of red and white stripes having been painted on it to display the banner of his nobility; his father was a landowner, having a number of fiefs across the Southwestern kingdom.<br/><br/>He took a couple steps forward, shield raised and sword ready. "Unhand her, cur, or taste my steel!" He had fought warlocks before, and no fireball would set a blaze to his shield...it had been battle-tested, so he knew he would be safe from fire-based attacks. He could very easily close the distance between himself and the warlock, and would not hesitate to cut him to pieces.