[h3][center][color=#63B8FF][b]Sariel[/b][/color][/center][/h3]

Battle was as disgusting as Sariel remembered. Blood flying in the air. Blood covering the ground. The screams of the dying. The silence of the dead. It was all so tiresome. So bothersome. So unnecessary.

She remained well back. Letting the others do the cutting, the hacking, and the smashing. She was in no rush to act. Magic was never to be wasted. She had no interest in drawing unwelcome attention. She felt no compulsion to test her arcane grimoire against a steel weapon.

The enemy's attack was faltering. The dead now outnumbered the living. Still, the riders fought bravely. They seemed unwilling to retreat. Three of the eastern riders massed together, preparing a desperate flanking maneuver. The closeness between them suited the necromancer and she whispered old words.

Sariel raised her hand, sending lightening hurtling forth. A thundering cracking followed the fresh smell of a thunderstorm filled her delicate nose. Blue sparks enveloped a knight as he tried to wheel his horse around. He began to convulse, shaking as he crumbled off of his falling mount. Smoke rose from the his still shuddering form as the bolt blasted onwards striking  knight that had heavy axe above his shoulder. He managed only a garbled prayer before he and his mount dropped to the ground in a smoldering heap. The third knight got little further before the cruel current of electricity struck her raised sword. Sariel watched impassively as lightening coursed through her steel weapon, down her right side, and then over her mount. Rider and mount toppled together.

The burnt knight struggled. Rising from beneath her dying horse in a pained lurch. She managed three steps towards Sariel before she stumbled, her sword tumbling from her hand as she fell down at the wizard's feet. Frowning, the necromancer stepped over the charred body, her nose wrinkling at the sickly sweet smell.  Eyeing the battlefield, Sariel prepared another spell. She was not sure it would be needed. The tide had turned. The knights were dead, even if they did not yet know it.

She was not concerned with the living. She would speak to the dead afterwards. She would seek answers that way. The newly deceased were always more open to conversation...