Jigano nodded, a wry agreement that different types of approaches would work for different people. That had been the driving philosophy behind those he had fought beside before, after all, a team where each had their own strength that shored up the weaknesses of their allies. The army he had led later had been less precise... in some ways. In others - the most important ones - they had been very precise indeed, as he could never forget.
At least Deimos was taking the warning seriously, something he wished others would do. But some people preferred to bury their head in the sand and pretend everything would be okay without them lifting a finger, preferring the comfort of familiarity over the constant vigilance of freedom. Jigano offered a wry smile, hoping that the big man could actually do something with his warning, though he had a feeling that attempting anything alone would result in swift - and painful - failure.
"Shields would be a tricky business," Jigano returned, frowning faintly. "At least, if they work together. You wouldn't want wooden shields thanks to Edy's fire... and metal shields would only serve to make Zariah's lightning more dangerous. But a shield that could eat magic..." he bit his lip, and then shook his head with a regretful sigh. "Oh my world? Yes. Here? Not that I'm aware of. I would think that the gods would have done that three hundred years ago if they could have, to stop the Voice from ascending. But... it's worth looking into," he decided with a firm nod. "Perhaps there is a material, a mineral or metal, that could dampen their magic. Keeping in mind that we can guarantee that it will get turned against our mages, should Zariah get ahold of it," he pointed out wryly.
The suggestion of 'testing' had the bard grinning mirthlessly, knowing that he was going to regret what was to come... but knowing better than to turn down the opportunity to see how much he could take, under controlled circumstances, with an opponent who wouldn't land the finishing blow.
If only to avoid saddening Amalia.
He braced himself internally as well as he could, but even so he was unprepared for the stinging, withering sensation that coiled around his limbs, inside them, leeching his strength and will with the wicked lash of magic used against an unwilling soul. He sucked in a sharp breath, serene facade shattered as he grit his teeth and tightened his good hand into a fist, attempting to push aside Deimos's spell with his will, with all the tricks that had once been his to command. That had been a different time, though, a different world... a different man. His broken arm ached fiercely as vitality drained away, but he wasn't entirely helpless. Hurting, very much, and in a new and terrible way, but still able to move, even if he couldn't stem the thrust of his opponent's magic.
The bard raised his sword with a grunt, eyes narrowing as he stalked forward against the onslaught unleashed against him, but his pride was not so great that he would allow himself to be so badly hurt now that he would be useless later. "Enough," he grated, stopping directly in front of Deimos and using the sword as a cane to support himself. His sweet voice had turned rough with pain. "I don't think I was able to do fuck all to resist that. But it's not... not impossible to move through it, if I concentrate. Don't know that we'd have a lot of time if we had to cross a lot of distance... but if we can get close before it's used, there's a chance to at least do some damage in return." The harsh swearing was unusual from the glib bard, for those who didn't know what a terrible patient he could be when he was in pain.
At least Deimos was taking the warning seriously, something he wished others would do. But some people preferred to bury their head in the sand and pretend everything would be okay without them lifting a finger, preferring the comfort of familiarity over the constant vigilance of freedom. Jigano offered a wry smile, hoping that the big man could actually do something with his warning, though he had a feeling that attempting anything alone would result in swift - and painful - failure.
"Shields would be a tricky business," Jigano returned, frowning faintly. "At least, if they work together. You wouldn't want wooden shields thanks to Edy's fire... and metal shields would only serve to make Zariah's lightning more dangerous. But a shield that could eat magic..." he bit his lip, and then shook his head with a regretful sigh. "Oh my world? Yes. Here? Not that I'm aware of. I would think that the gods would have done that three hundred years ago if they could have, to stop the Voice from ascending. But... it's worth looking into," he decided with a firm nod. "Perhaps there is a material, a mineral or metal, that could dampen their magic. Keeping in mind that we can guarantee that it will get turned against our mages, should Zariah get ahold of it," he pointed out wryly.
The suggestion of 'testing' had the bard grinning mirthlessly, knowing that he was going to regret what was to come... but knowing better than to turn down the opportunity to see how much he could take, under controlled circumstances, with an opponent who wouldn't land the finishing blow.
If only to avoid saddening Amalia.
He braced himself internally as well as he could, but even so he was unprepared for the stinging, withering sensation that coiled around his limbs, inside them, leeching his strength and will with the wicked lash of magic used against an unwilling soul. He sucked in a sharp breath, serene facade shattered as he grit his teeth and tightened his good hand into a fist, attempting to push aside Deimos's spell with his will, with all the tricks that had once been his to command. That had been a different time, though, a different world... a different man. His broken arm ached fiercely as vitality drained away, but he wasn't entirely helpless. Hurting, very much, and in a new and terrible way, but still able to move, even if he couldn't stem the thrust of his opponent's magic.
The bard raised his sword with a grunt, eyes narrowing as he stalked forward against the onslaught unleashed against him, but his pride was not so great that he would allow himself to be so badly hurt now that he would be useless later. "Enough," he grated, stopping directly in front of Deimos and using the sword as a cane to support himself. His sweet voice had turned rough with pain. "I don't think I was able to do fuck all to resist that. But it's not... not impossible to move through it, if I concentrate. Don't know that we'd have a lot of time if we had to cross a lot of distance... but if we can get close before it's used, there's a chance to at least do some damage in return." The harsh swearing was unusual from the glib bard, for those who didn't know what a terrible patient he could be when he was in pain.
