"Adbelydra danio!"

The regal, rolling syllables of Aleksandr's roar echoed loudly against the walls and into the corridor beyond as an abrupt and shockingly bright flare of blue-white light replaced his closed fist. Kichaa jerked his eyes away, covering them quickly with his forearm, and even then he felt the wash of magic luminescence needle into his eyes. The grip he had on his sword faltered long enough that when he gripped it tighter and more savagely, he felt the knuckles of his hand pop slightly out of place. Even with his eyes shielded by his arm, he could see the stark contrast of the light cast by the magic and the darkness created by the shadows it created. It dulled as sharply as it rose, losing most of its fervor as the flash fire passed.

"They are coming," Aleksandr muttered, his steady, clear voice seeming bland and insignificant in comparison to the thundering command of his shout, "Please ready yourself."

Gods, above, Kichaa thought, blinking his eyes in the shimmering light of the shield the wizard was still holding around them. It had formed into a half-dome, leaving off at the floor, where an obvious line of charred dust and stone made it obvious that the fire would have done a considerable bit more than scald them. He had met some wizards in his day, even ones that could pull off a metaphysical brawl against some of the nastier monsters and mayhem-bent warlocks. It was still impressive to see one really cut loose with the defensive magic, to throw up a barrier that precise in so much time. As far as the untrained but highly educated swordsman could tell, the shield had stopped the kinetic energy of the alchemical mixture that had been in the bottle and the heat of the fire itself.

"Ready," the swordsman said, twitching the sword in his hand. Iron was no specialty metal, but it was going to have to do well enough for his purposes. The opponent, or opponents, seemed to be at least half-way mortal beings. He was decently sure one of them had a shield, too, which made things more complicated. The ones with shields were always better at close ranges.

The wizard was the first to step out into the fray, his shield bending and altering without any sign of strain or effort on the part of its creator. Its half-dome curved outwards and flattened into a solid wall that covered several yards of space directly in front of the door and illuminated the pair of antagonists, giving Kichaa a good look at the two as he stepped out and gripped the hilt of his sword in both hands. It was obvious immediately why, exactly, the pair had been able to avoid being beaten with the immediacy the swordsman had first expected. Both looked competent, both were decently armed, and both gave off the strong, confident aura of a person who was at home and capable in a combat situation. A stoic frown set across the swordsman's features as he strode forward and set his feet.

Aleksandr shifted his shield again, pinning one end against the wall and angling the other so that anyone coming for him would have to step around the transparent wall of light and walk straight into Kichaa.

"The pale one is an undead of some kind," the wizard warned, his voice low and quick, his eyes narrowing on the vampire with sharp focus, "He uses living magic. I can only distract him for so long with any of my spells. We should keep them on the defensive."

"To late for that, here they come."

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["Ow, ow, ow ... oh, it hurts to be so good!" - Ramirez]