Nadia was not a fool and as she found herself on the battlefield she stuck close to those who looked as if they knew how to defend themselves. It was not as though it would help her any, should they be overrun, but it certainly deterred a good number of undead monstrosities from ending her life sooner rather than later, and more importantly it gave the small, slender woman a chance to concentrate and work her magic. It helped, when manipulating the fabrics of the world and reality, to be able to focus on that specific task without the potential distraction of a sword to the face.<br/><br/>The small, non-descript figure was busy at work as the battle raged around her, drawing the elements she needed and arranging them into spells in a manner similar to one weaving a tapestry. It was intricate work, it required concentration, and in the eyes of the beholder it was a work of art.<br/><br/>Unless, of course, Nadia’s blazing fireball caught the beholder squarely in the chest. The abomination, should it be an art lover, never had much of a chance to admire it before the heat of the flames reduced it to blackened, tar-like goop. The various monstrosities that had surrounded it, pressing forward to attack, did not fare much better with the extreme heat the fireball produced. Those that were not slain instantly found themselves crippled, or disoriented and at the mercy of the swords and spells of those around the young mage.<br/><br/>She lost track of time, amidst the smoke, the rush of magic, the sounds of battle and smell of violence. She was aware of the way her body ached with exhaustion, but she pushed through it until somewhere in her mind, the realization that the battle was over managed to push through and she pulled away from the magic, trembling from the mental and physical exertion. The losses were heavy, and in the midst of the carnage and bloodshed, she felt even smaller and more alone than she was.<br/><br/>It was a victory, yes. Another day of living in fear, and terror, of wondering if it would be their last. It was a victory, no matter how bittersweet.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>