The elves assembled in front of the mages began to advance towards their enemies, fire was flowing thick and fast between the two camps, the mages working hard to disrupt formations as much as possible, to give the tactical advantage on the field. But these elves were disciplined in the ways of war and Jarvan knew that no matter how many their killed or lost in the opening salvos, it would not be enough to stop the advancement or force them to retreat.<br/><br/>Once the elves were within striking distance of each other and weapons were beginning to clash, Jarvan stopped firing off spells and prepared himself to deal with those that broke through to the back lines. The mages had been given basic combat training and they could use their staffs to stave off some attacks, but they would have to rely on their magick more than anything if they got in hot water. On top of that they would also need to heal their warriors as they came off the field, or retreat depending on how the battle went.<br/><br/>Thankfully, he had still not seen any sign of a Dragon Kin, because then the battle would definitely be lost. Keeping his thoughts trained on the battle, he had to fight off a couple of Dark Elves that broke through the army lines, intent on breaking the mages support. Using his staff to cave in the skull of the first to approach him, he had to rely on more fire to deal with the second, watching in horror as the proud, dark warrior reeled away and screamed in pain as his flesh seared away from his bones and he fell in a smoldering heap on the ground. Those who said there was glory in battle definitely had to have had a twisted sense of it.