[i]It was [u]him[/u].[/i] [i]From beside the pyromancer that held up the shield of compacted, tamed fire, another shield would be cast down, the base point quite literally touching the rugged earth of the road underneath. Gunfire splintered off of the shield's plating, while it's wielder would bolster herself behind it's wall, as she would draw her own weapon and returned fire back: a Bolt Pistol, from the looks of it, firing .59 caliber sized bolts towards the targets ahead. An intent to kill - a rather harsh justice for those who would take hostages.[/i] [i]The one whom shielded herself was tightly encased within an obsidian black shell of armoring, the compact plates that protected her body consisting of ceramite. The previously holy sigils that were upon her armor surface were now naught: only the knightly helm of which she bore had kept it's sigil - a fleur de lys upon the headpiece. A point to aim for an enemy, and yet a sigil of hope for an ally. Perhaps that was the intent.[/i] [i]Victoria had.. well, seemingly popped out of nowhere to aid and protect.[/i]