Aria took in a deep breath, held the pendent around her neck tightly, and roared to signify the beginning of battle. The ogres were the first to respond, and two rows of ugly green creatures descended the small hill toward her enemy. The worgen lagged behind the ogres, choosing to encircle the party of four instead of running into the midst of them. Aria watched with salivating glee as her trap sprung. Only Edwel remained by her side, moving his feet occasionally, so they wouldn't get sucked into the waterlogged soil again.
The ogres closed in around her enemies and their mighty cleavers were met with the meagre defence of a broad-axe, two swords, and the silvery projectiles from the old wizard's staff. The peaceful mire rang with the sound of war cries, clashing metal, and the peculiar sound of Edwel squelching in the mud. No longer able to contain her fervour, Aria moved to take long strides toward the battle, only to be stopped by Edwel's stone hand.
"You cannot command your soldiers if you are in the midst of the brawl," he said.
Aria batted his hand away with a growl, but stayed in her spot. She knew that he was right, but she couldn't help wanting to be closer. She wanted to see the whites of Aramus's terrified eyes, to smell the blood as it trickled from his body, and hear his last pathetic cries for his vile father as he whimpered into death's arms.
But she was to be disappointed.
The two dwarfs battled with mighty swings, which saw the arms of her obedient ogres vault into the air, their bellies splayed open, and cleavers cut from their hands. Aramus too seemed to have the upper hand against the stupid beasts, although he again appeared to be weak, stumbling occasionally onto the floor.
Frustration saw Aria grip her sword more tightly, but something else caught her attention as she watched the winged man. From within the torrent of his flapping wings, and his powerful twists and turns with a sword, something flashed momentarily, and Aria could have sworn it looked a lot like fire.