The elven man felt grateful for the fog's protection when the attack missed him in the fog's embrace, his fingers letting go of the bowstring then to unleash the arrow, firing it at his attacker in retaliation for the attack directed at him. He wanted to deal with these foes as swiftly as he could, and put an end to their attack.<br/><br/>At the very least he should have a story worth a few drinks later, about fighting goblins in weird armor while encased in a cloud of mist and with a whirling halfling whirlwind of death slashing around near him but unseen like a ghost in the concealing presence his spell had leant them.<br/><br/>He had not prepared for a fight this soon after starting out the day, but then again last night had been full of surprises.