As a pair of charred skeletons clacked down to the soft muddy earth, Mireths body healed itself back out of lethal or long lasting consequences of his spell - the beauty of blood magic, its price was small, in return for incredible results it always baffled him as to why it was abhorred so much in the shems world.
From a quick scan across the battle field things seemed to be in the Wardens favour - or at least, that was the general feel until the Darkspawn commander came to the battle. It truly looked as if it had crawled from depths of hell itself, the guttural form of speaking it done was no better on creature that stood before the Wardens; it was Commander, against Commander.
But what came was not a fair fight, despite the fact that armour does little to protect against magic; unless specifically designed to do so, this spell would likely have torn through some of the sturdiest armour ever designed - it appeared to function somewhat akin to Chain Lightning and Virulent Walking bomb, it spread to the other targets after killing its previous one - this continued for what seemed like an eternity, effectively decimating the vanguard closest to the pit from where the Darkspawn had emerged.   
And then, as soon as it had began, it ended.

It seemed as if the Warden lines would falter or break completely - but that didn't happen, they were resolute, and they would fight to the bitter end - but the question he asked himself was, should he? 
Mireth had no cause to fight along side these people; true the Darkspawn are a menace, but they didn't have numbers, nor an Archdemon to be of any real threat to the world - this entire operation was likely an effort simply to keep the wardens occupied post-blight.

Mireth stroked his chin and contemplated for a moment, looking misplaced in the chaos that unfolded around him. It was then that someone started chanting the Wardens oath, spurring on the Wardens to strike at the heart of the enemy; they looked as if they were pissed off, more than shook to the core by their enemies grievous blow.

After a couple of seconds Mireth decided he would stay, at least until the battle was over - what harm could come from a good fight every now and then, he had to keep his mind sharp. 
He pushed himself towards the front line closer to the chanting... Elf?
This took Mireth back abit, but it was true that there was no racism in the Wardens ranks.

But this was not the time to think of idle things - Mireth began to focus his mind on the task at hand, and when the charge took place, they would have the support of his magic - whether they liked it or not.