Snippet #1522349

Antius gasped for breath, finally realeasing his Arcane Shields. He wiped the sweat of his forehead. That fight had certainly drained a lot of his mana, but he hadn't sustained any injuries. That was good news at least. He smiled over at Asmara when she asked her question, "No. I'm a little tire,d but that's nothing a little rest without casting spells won't cure. Are you alright, Asmara?"

He smiled and sheathed his sword at his side before strapping his staff on his back. He was getting the hang of this fighting thing, it seemed. That came with traveling with the Wardens, he supposed. Funny. He never thought he'd experience such things outside of a book, but he was glad he was. How many Mages got this much field experience when it came to casting Primal Spells. He could hardly wait to tell the the others at the Circle.

Connall frowned as he sheathed his sword. He shook his head, "This was only a small group of the Darkspawn. We didn't even get to fight an ogre."

He sounded rather disappointed, causing Antius to raise an eyebrow. Well, he read that the Avvars were a warrior race. It seemed that they hadn't grown complacent in the last few hundred years or so. Still, the warrior seemed to perk up at the sight of Drake. He smirked slightly, eying the beast up and down approvingly. There were no physical defects to exploit if his experienced eye were any judge.

"You have a fine beast," the Avvar complimented, "Too bad it did most of the battle for you. I'd have liked to see how an Apostate fights."