Nicolette didn't like magic. She knew it had its uses, but she couldn't find the heart to say magic was a blessing. She saw how mages were treated in certain Circles. The ones in Orlais seemed to be fine, but of course there were exceptions to this rule.

This situation was no different.

The Warden Commander who fell, there was nothing that could have been done. She accepted that face. The elven Warden seemed to be taking it harder than most as he began chanting the ever popular phrase among the wardens. Nicolette followed the warrior and his dog. Chaos was erupting from the camp as the Emissary rained down it's own personal hell.

Nicolette viewed the scene, trying to find some way to exploit the situation. Nothing was coming up. If anything had to be done, it was to get the Wardens to form and commence a counter-attack. She didn't know how to handle that, she wasn't a soldier, she was an assassin wanderer, someone somebody paid to handle messes.

This was a particularly nasty mess.