The knife easily sunk into its target, with the small paladin too close to easily avoid a swift attack--and besides, what was a dagger in the back going to do? That's when the pain hit, the knife seeming to dig into her mind. Fingers as sharp as the blade itself raking through her thoughts, dragging them out. If those claws got stuck in, there was no telling how much damage could be done. Even in a weakened state like this, controlling the Immortal Knight was a powerful weapon indeed.

Tyaethe sunk to her knees, sword clattering and jar clinking, rolling backwards towards the nem. The glow seemed to die down and the litany reduced to the occasional mumbled word. He [i]was[/i] a necromancer, and she undead--undoubtedly an advantage in this case. It was the best person that he could possibly have targeted from an objective standpoint and the paladin's raised towards white hair, clutching at--

Two small hands took hold of the necromancer's robes and yanked. The man was pulled down hard--right into a headbutt that, mask or no, hit with enough force to shake [i]something[/i] loose.

She was the Immortal Knight of the Iron Roses. She had continued past death itself for the sake of her duty and nothing, not some two-bit defiler, nor some dark god, nor the armies of a kingdom would tear her from this path. Only the goddesses and her captains were going to make Tyaethe do something if she put her mind against it.

"You're a hundred years too young to try something like that," the paladin said, eyes now burning as green as the air around her and sword back in hand.