Villith had no idea where all this talk of gods was suddenly coming from. Maybe this Draxis was a religious sort. Villeth had become a sorceress simply to avoid becoming a priestess. The mere thought of serving a nebulous entity that spoke through omens and through prophets or oracles was anathema to her. Lolth was an even more jealous goddess than most others, affording little in the way of freedom and she had thus chosen the path of sorcery. Even if the choice had cost her position in the family. Then there was his propaganda. Elves had been walking creation long before humans, deathless and immortal. Their magics were older than anything Draxis might have. Sooner or later, when the elves rallied, things were going to get- interesting.

Following behind Draxis upon his skeletal mount Villeth mounted a fallen log and came up behind him. The battering ram, held aloft in the arms of hundreds of never flagging undead warriors was a marvel to behold. Since no wagons could make it through the shattered woods, between the stumps of giant trees, the tireless dead had simply carried it in pieces and sections. It was a feat that Villeth marvelled at and she would carry word of the effectiveness of such tactics to the college where she had been instructed. It would take years, decades or even centuries, before they could ever hope to manage such a feat.

"I yearn for the chance," Villeth declared boldly, eyes glimmering with the desire for bloodshed, "To wade through their blood."

The wooden staff in the dark elven woman's hand spun and she pointed it towards the walls but she did not waste her energies on a pointless display of power. While she could disintegrate a small portion of the wall, what would be the point? The elves would bottle up any small entrance. Perhaps, once the main gate was breached and attention was drawn from the walls she could make such a hole for a sortie.