Atticus choked up on his musket, keeping it centered toward the mass of opposition surrounding them. He thought, distantly, that this must be like the soldiers of the Revolution must have felt like. But he dismissed that thought; their plight was not so noble. Flight, towards safety for their own skins. Still, it gave him some glimmer of hope. Slowly, he lowered the barrel, standing up from his half crouched stance. He half laughed as he slung the gun across his shoulder. Ya know, from where I come from, our ancestors fought a hard-won war so they don't need take no orders from a King. Or, I suppose, no Lords neither. Don't get me wrong, Fairwind, your a nice enough bloke but I reckon at least haf the words that come out of yer yap are about as true as a carpetbagger's sales pitch. So Atticus' eyes flared as electricity crackled around him and jumping out to each of his allies. Above each of their heads, the electricity forming into a sigil above each of their heads. If ya don't mind, we're gonna kindly decline your 'magnanimous' offer. But bless ya heart, you do have a sense of style for these things. Atticus sprung backwards, twisting on the ball of his foot to rush towards the waiting skiff.

At least, if he died here, Mum and Pa wouldn't have to worry no more.

Spoiler: Air Glyph to everybody
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For 5 rounds, everyone gets +10 land speed.