Nicolas de Courcy
De Courcy watches the shaman’s approach and retreat, evaluating the vault guardian’s attacks.
He considers what he knows of his companion’s skills, playing out a series of fights in his head as the other’s discuss the nature of the guardians.
“It’s not as stupid as it seems. Polearms don’t need much room either side, and with their reach they can start hacking away before you can. The space channels attackers in together, right into their blades.”
He pauses, glancing at Ranar and Thwip.
“Now, maybe one of the names his lordship suggested will get us in. But, it should probably be someone who hasn’t identified themselves yet who tries. Just in case they remember that sort of thing.”
He looks down the hall at the guardians blocking the entrance.
"That doesn’t work, then we fight.
“They’re slower than an Anglish serf, I’ll skip right past them. Ranar and Jibril follow close behind, getting inside their reach as they swot at me and pinning them in place.
Blue Hawk, you’d go in the second rank - if you use both hands, your spear will give you the reach to thrust through any gaps. Between the cover of the front rank, and your magic slowing attacks down, you can probably do without a shield.
Thwip, you stay back. They’re big bastards, should give you a clear enough angle to hit them without hitting us.”
De Courcy briefly considers the prospect of being hit by a stray shot.
“If you’ve good aim of course,” he shrugs.
“Any objections or refinements?”
