Richard bobbing and weaving, bounding like a ricocheting bullet between terrain features might have looked cool amongst the din and discord of the battlefield, but if anyone were able to actually hear him, they would hear a series of panicked, non-masculine, high pitched shrieks and whoops as the necromantic ice starts being flung his way. He eventually managed to plunge himself so far into the snow that it actually managed to work itself out into a protective barrier.

"Gents," He yelled out from beneath the snow. "I know that this is not really the time, you must be looking pretty roughed up, that was a surprisingly brutal attack, but if any of you heard that, please do not tell anyone you did. Especially not Corrin. Especially not Kuja."

Suddenly, there was a burst of snow from beneath one of the remaining wights and gives him a [Jump]ing shoulder check from below.