[ He can't help himself: James grins back. Questions about his own magic make up for James' not-quite-envy over the earthen hand, and the manic energy emanating from the other man is almost infectious. In response, he twirls his wand between his fingers, and with one more murmured spell conjures a fountain of water from the tip, a stream that circles and fans around the source before it splashes back to the still-hot ground. ]

Think I'll have a few answers. [ He puts out the stream with another flick of his wrist and turns back in the direction of the nearest smoke plume still rising dark and thick above the rooftops. ] What have you got in the meantime? I think the orcs are dwindling in number, I see fewer with each corner I turn, but the fires are still spreading. They'll be waiting for anyone who comes running.

[ He brushes an arm across his face and leaves a streak of soot on his cheek. James' elfin features are stark and pale beneath the remains of battle. ]

If you're planning on going for the fires, think that hand could give us a ride?