Her casting was interrupted though, when the wind of the harpy Child's passage caught her face. Sucking in air sharply, Faera hit the ground in just enough time to avoid the rake of sharp talons, clutching the spellshield carefully to her chest like a treasure that had to be protected. She had major problems now, though, she knew that much, and she quickly flung it at the two injured elves some distance beyond- one less worry, at least for a time. The spell would likely hold for no more than a minute, given its hasty construction.
She needed her arms back, though, to defend herself. As the harpy dove again, it was hit full in the face with an enraged wyrm, Zek having been most displeased to be so forcibly dislodged from her shoulder. As ineffective as such an assault would be unless the tiny dragonkin managed to get at its eyes, it bought her the time necessary to summon the ice to her fingertips once more, this time taking the risk that she'd hit something else and firing a direct spell straight upwards as she rolled and staggered to her feet. From the distinct shriek that followed, she judged that she had probably hit some part of the harpy's anatomy.
She heard the Captain's orders, and felt some kind of strange magic issuing from her armor. A... transport spell? Perhaps... she was not familiar enough with the properties of enchanted objects to say for sure, and she touched the crest on instinct alone, deciding that it would probably be best to keep Zek attached to her shoulder from this point forwards.
Thirty seconds... what could she possibly do with thirty seconds besides try and not get killed (or deafened, for that matter)? She knew more than a few of their number would require what treatment she could provide, but it was probably best to wait just a little longer for that. She heard a gathering of Children on a stone some distance away... or at least that's what it sounded like; footwear on stone, and not fighting, which meant Children. The Legionnaires were far too scant in number for such a number of them to be doing nothing.
Well... she supposed that was as good as anything else. Stone, stone... she wasn't very good with earth magics, and so as much as she would like to coax the rock to bind their feet and legs, she didn't think it would work very well. Her best option pragmatically unavailable, she settled for something less practical, but perhaps more damaging- if it hit anything. Gradually, Faera began drawing raindrops to herself, much as she had done with her first attack, only she did not freeze anything this time. Instead, she directed the orb of water (perhaps six feet in diameter) to hurtle past anyone else in its way and smack into the cluster. The force would not be life-threatening, but it would be disorienting enough to leave anyone affected on the ground for a bit, and the point was to stay alive for just a few more seconds, right? "Cannonball..." she mumbled under her breath.
Shortly afterward, time expired.
-=-
Neira grinned her satisfaction at that lovely wet breaking sound that human necks made, releasing the now-corpse without a second thought. It would seem her little mind-game had provided ample distraction for one of the others to make use of it, which was also perfectly adequate.
Of course, they were far from out of the woods yet, and when she was flanked by two Children, she swore a rather colorful kind of revenge against the traitorous back-alley whores they both called 'mother' and made to back up will all due haste when her antennae informed her that this, too was impossible. Swinging around, she caught sight of the lamia emerging from his concealment, apparently intent on taking her down with him.
She could not speak for her species, but the primal drive to end lives painfully with naught but her hands and her mind knew not what fear was- only surprise, and the desire that if she were to die, she would go down bathing in the blood of her foes. As it was, however, no such sentiments were necessary, for the burning blighter was soon enough replaced by a familiar face, this one clearly a stoic in the face of danger. It was really too bad they were on the same side- she loved screwing with the stoic ones the most.
She carelessly licked the blood and bile from her lips (humanoids of all kinds tasted terrible, but it was something of an unconscious habit), raising an eyebrow as he spoke. "Whatever you say, kiddo," she replied with a shrug, backing into a defensive circle with the other Legionnaires in her area. She had a habit- some would say an annoying one, not that she cared- to bestow rather diminutive nicknames on the people she didn't hate quite as much as everyone else. Well, that or the ones she hated more, but those were usually not the monikers of polite conversation.
The call for thirty seconds came, and Neira issued an exaggerated sigh, tapping the sigil emblazoned upon her armor. "It was just getting good, too... here's an idea. Anyone who can take down one of these suckers in thirty seconds gets a drink at the next tavern we hit- on me, of course. Unless I do it first, of course. They have to be fresh, though... not fun eating scraps, hm?"
With these... slightly less-than-sane words, Neira picked her own target: an eleven child with a hand axe. "You'll do nicely," she told him with a wicked smile, launching herself into the air and deciding that a roundhouse kick to the head really was her favorite way to start a match. From there forward, it was much the same as always- find new and creative methods to pummel and skewer, all the while avoiding those sharp bits of steel that some people liked to use to slice others to ribbons. Pah.