Though tired Lonna scrambled back as fast as she could from the attack, surprise and fear written on her face. She didn't move fast enough. The sword slammed into the center of her chest, right below the ribcage, the point piercing through all the way out her back.  

Beetle had just been struggling back to his feet, his arm sending stabs of pain up his shoulder whenever it shifted position, when he saw the Captain draw his sword. He wondered just how many of the Gods he had angered this day; dead but not, a master of trolls who's primary training tool was broken (his voice), and now saved from being pummeled by one of his charges by an enemy mage who was about to be killed for their efforts. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his wife, feet up in front of the fire and a mug of summer ale to hand. He winced as the blade slammed home in the young woman's chest.

Lonna let out a cry of pain as the sword sliced through her flesh. It had been foolish to try to help the Anaheer, everyone knew honor did not exist among them and they were not to be trusted. Now she was paying the price of her foolishness.

Curse all jingoists. Teion thought to himself as the captain lunged towards the Vatril. He still needed her alive, but he doubted that trying to restrain the captain would work, only get him angry. Then he smiled "I don't think he realises, no." He mumbled to himself, the grin looking odd on his burnt features.

Walther held the thrust for a moment before ripping his sword free the way it had come.  The wound was certainly mortal, right through the witch's putrid Vatril heart, or what black seeping giblet passed for such in her darkspawned kind.  Satisfied that death would claim her soon, he wiped his blade on a nearby body.  The blade didn't carry as much blood and the wound didn't bleed nearly as much as he would have expected, but it was a minor thing most likely explained away by her evil necrotic soul.  He sheathed his sword and then got to the business at hand.

Another unexpected scream, echoed that of the Vatril woman.  For those that turned to look, they saw the raven haired companion of Walther stumble forward.  Her slender hands wrapped around her head as she yelled out again, this time more coherent.  "Stop."  She gasped.  "She's one of us.  We need her."

Walther did look, annoyance and impatience mixing unpleasantly on his face for but a moment at the unnecessary outburst.  "Daft woman..." he mumbled.

"We should make haste while the troll sleeps," he said to the group.  "That way, towards our advancing forces.  We won't be safe traveling by ourselves in Vatril lands for very long."

Cali shook her head emphatically as she regained her composure.  "We can't leave her.  We need her...  If we dispatch of her or abandon her...we won't be complete."  Her vibrant green eyes flashed and there was a conviction in her voice, a depth to it, that begged notice.

Walther tried not to sigh.  Had the entire world gone mad?

Fresh pain flared through Lonna as the man in the red cape withdrew his weapon but somehow she was still standing. Luck had been with her and somehow he had missed any vital organs. Perhaps he was only toying with her. Drawing out her suffering for his own perverted amusement. He was Anaheer and with Anaheer anything was possible.

"Captain," Beetle wheezed, pointing with his good hand, his spear resting in the crook of his arm. The mage was still standing, looking down at the wound in shock. There was blood, but a wound like that should be gushing, not trickling. ".... uh...." he finished lamely, surprised writ large upon his face.

"Trainer, you did well," Walther offered with an encouraging nod and a manly clap on the man's shoulder, ignoring the woman he'd run through.  Sometimes they just took a moment to fall over.  "Maintain watch on the troll while the others gather themselves for the march."

Beetle hadn't taken his eyes off the Vatril mage. "Captain," he whispered, still pointing. "I really think you need to look at that." His eyes had gotten as big as saucers.

Walther's brow furrowed and he turned with soft concern towards the scum he'd ended.  She was still standing, and suspiciously not falling down or bleeding.  He looked at her and saw not the shock of death made manifest, but the shock of death held miraculously at bay. 

"I told you."  Cali breathed quietly.  "She's one of us.  If we ever wish to restore ourselves...or whatever the Gods have given us this second chance for... we'll need her.  Vatril or Anaheer, this bond must sustain us.  Darkness, deeper than the blackest night lies on the horizon if we separate now."  Cali looked at the healer, for a moment, then the mage and the trainer before finally allowing her gaze to settle on the Vatril woman.

Teion came forward, coming to stand close to the Vatril in case the brute decided to attack her again. As he came toward her she backed away in horror not letting him near. "What kind of vile magic is this?" She muttered to herself as she moved. 

Teion looked at the Vatril, missing what she said but knowing what she meant. "Poetically put, my dear Chanda, and very true." He turned to the Captain "We are all dead. All in different manners and by different means, but the result was all still the same." He drew a small disk like pendent from a chain around his neck. "As you may of guessed, I am a mage of the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts. I go by the name Teion Marfaradean, and amongst many great and unwieldy titles I am also an advisor to the Arcane Council on matters of Dark magic and dangerous practices. I don not know how this has happened," He gestured to his mutilated body, "But in order to discover what has happened  to us I must examine us all, regardless of our former political standing, and maybe eventually return us to our living state."

Harold was still staring at the captain, in shock.  He knew some people were prone to violence, but to see a man so willing to kill a woman for no reason was incomprehensible to the gentle healer.  Still weak from his previous healing attempts, he still moved forward, wanting to help.  "Please," he said quietly, not looking at anyone in particular.  "Listen to them.  Hurting each other won't help."  He stepped up to exam the woman's wound.  He knew, logically, it seemed to pose no danger to her, but his instinct to help was strong and he wanted to make sure there was nothing he could do.

The seer stepped away from the group, concern as plain on her face as it was on most of the others.  She couldn't imagine the thoughts that were racing around in each of their heads.  At least she had some small clue as to what was going on here, but what she didn't know was why or how to fix it.  Her eyes settled on Walther, who was clearly unsettled by what was going on, and she could understand why.  It was obvious that the Vatril mage was powerful, and who was to say that taking her was a wise thing to do.  She hated her visions, almost always, giving herself away to blind unfaltering faith, just because a vision told her to, was unsettling at best.

"Frankly, I think the lot of you are mad," Walther said, warily eyeing the Vatril mage.  "But given the circumstances... I'm willing to make allowances - but not here."

Turning to Teion, The Lord started, "If you're what you claim to be then you know what I say to be true when I tell you all that we must leave this place, and now.  This battlefield is still freshly wet and lies mere hours from a major Vatril population center.  There are almost certainly reinforcements on their way as we speak, and likely smaller patrols in advance of those.  We tarry here at our peril."

Once more addressing the blackened mage directly, the officer added in a tone that both respected the mage's claimed titles and yet harbored no illusions about how far that respect went at the moment, "She is your concern now."  Gesturing with his head towards the Vatril witch, he added, loud enough for her to hear, "But know this: if she so much as magics a candle to be lit without being asked I will carve her into pieces and bury them seperately."

There was little that Cali could do to keep her lips from smiling at that.  She knew first hand just how hot Walther's temper ran.

He looked directly into the Vatril demon-mother's eyes and pointed at her tellingly.  "My word," he assured her before he sheathed his sword and moved to pick up his pack.

Teion nodded to the Captain "Agreed, and it would be wise to move. If we travel north east we should reach the forest, it is a good place to stop for the night, if only to avoid any patrols."

"Better to be carved to pieces than be given to those who would do that." Lonna replied pointing to the burned mage. "I had heard the Anaheer practiced vile magics but even the stories do not tell the true horror."  

Teion glanced at the Mage. He would have raised an eyebrow if he was able, "An interesting concept, seeing as my current condition is mainly because of your mages casting's and alot of bad luck. I certainly do not have the power to do this to myself, for it is a pain you do not know even to move."

With a quick move he moved close to the mage, leaning heavily on his spear, his bloodshot eyes staring deep into hers. "Now, you will come with us, and you will do it willingly, or I will be forced to evoke magics that will not only destroy you but probably myself and everyone else here, and then would likely move on to Ettemoor and destroy that as well." His voice had dropped to a threatening tone, leaving no doubt that he would do it. "Now, are you going to come quietly?" He asked.

Uninterested in the Anaheer mage's tactics, or in the commanders, Cali gracefully slid out of the conversation.  She knelt quickly and gathered a sizeable chunk of the charred and bloodstained ground at her feet and placed it into a pouch.  It took more effort to stand, and she wiped her hands as well as she could on her silken trousers before heading off in the direction of the forest.

Even as the burned cinder moved toward her, Lonna was moving away, keeping a good distance between the two. "Maybe you didn't do it to yourself but this reeks of Anaheer magic. Perhaps one of your friends lost control of a spell. The same way they lost control of that flying creature sent to attack my people."

Teion lost his temper "Enough, this argument is pointless. I am not accusing anyone at the moment, but whoever did this was a powerful dark mage. I don't know about you but I knew every mage in the Anaheer army and none of them had even the slightest talent in the dark arts. And whatever that creature was is a discussion for another time. Now, you either come quietly with us or I relent and let the captain here chop off your hands and feet and we will carry you with us?" Teion said with finality in his voice

"After seeing what I have seen I would rather die than place myself at the mercy of the Anaheer. I have sympathy for what has happened to you, mage but you should look for answers with your own people. I have no intention of going with you." Lonna answered.

Beetle had listened to the lofty pronouncements of blood and honor and lordship and magery and - and here he glanced up at the strange woman with the eyes - and whatever it was she'd been babbling on about. Darkness or somesuch. He'd listened, stayed out of it, watched his ensorcelled troll, and thanked whatever gods might listen to a dead man that he'd been born a lowly troll trainer. Let loftier than he tackle this mess. He almost laughed when he thought about it; If it had been up to him, he'd have chopped both the mages heads off, just in case one of them had been the ones that had done this to them all. 

There was very little chance of keeping this troll under his control once it woke up. Best really to leave it here as a surprise gift for whatever Vatril dogs came sniffing. He sighed and leaned on his spear, waiting to see if the others followed the Captain's plan. 

Harold spoke up again, quietly.  "Please, let's go.  I might be able to help more, later."  He looked at the burned mage, sorrow on his face.  "I might be able to ease your pain some then."  

Teion nodded to the Healer, "We will see."

The tan woman, gave the healer a faint, apologetic smile, as if she were somehow responsible for what had happened.  Then nodded her head, before looking towards Walther for direction.  In truth she knew these lands better than most, but what she didn't know was where they were headed.  Only that, for now, her path lay with the rest of them.

The argument between the mages was sufficiently montiored within his peripheral vision while Walther walked in a tight circle.  His eyes, trained by experience, looked for landmarks and other physical signs to determine in which direction the Anaheer forces advanced. Even with the quickly fading light, Walther could see the trail to the north that the army had left coming here. Several thousand soldiers aren't exactly subtle. It was a small miracle they had gotten this far before being engaged. To the south-west  was a rough beaten path leading from the battlefield. It undoubtedly led to the city of Ettermoor. When he had been recalled, the Vatril forces were retreating down that path, with Anaheer soldiers in pursuit. From what Walther had seen, it would have taken some major catastrophe to turn the tides of the battle and he saw no sign of that. In fact, there were less bodies on the field than he might have expected. There was no reason for General Lemond not to have pursued the Vatril straight to Ettermoor.