War nodded. "So it's you-go-that-way-I-go-this-way," she said, pointing him in his direction and taking her own. She surveyed the fort in front of her and gaged which direction to strike from, idly wishing she had a bazooka, but she'd left all of hers lined up neatly under her bed in the manor. And none of them would be permitted in this fight, most likely-- right. There was always that.

At any rate, a nice barrage of snowballs from lower ground ought to pique the interest of the ambitious few on the hill.