The cabal of shadows had finally diminished into one last murky musketeer, surrounded by two heroes of light and a gnome, who called himself, Birbin. The [i]why[/i] to which these shadows descended like a plague of locusts, aiming to sow discord and reap agony, all to harvest the prized flesh of one glitzy wizard, remained, sadly, labyrinthine.

[color=ed1c24]”… regale us with a story of how you came to be chased by so many foes.”[/color]

The rationale still eluded Wick. These wispy voids would never disclose suffering nor duplicity, as they were abominating forces, only to reckon wrath upon, for the reincarnated librarian never witnessed any such adversary ever communicate with another, nor demand verbosity from their victims. Yet, they employed a foul sort of teamwork, fluently.

[i]It was always extinguish or be finished ourselves.[/i]

Yet, the mage sage sensed a resurgent premonition during the skirmish, that the battle was already won before our first weapon was even drawn. Though, she routinely never underestimated the strength, brutality, or, for that matter, the stupidity of their enemies, never barring full-on aggression towards this ashen evil. Anger and peace, unexpectedly, meshed like a raging river, into her soul, to only plummet as a euphoric waterfall into a serene valley. This mixture of antithetical emotions were peculiar to the cleric, to which she reflexively shrugged off, as her boots took flight.

Dashing back into the fray, the warlock eventually locked eyes, with her socketless nemesis. Yelling one word, she sought to strike opportunity amongst her comrades in finishing this conflict. The issued command bellowed as part rallying cry, part sermon, and hopefully undeniable to their sole opponent, in garnering an undefended tornado of swipes from the adjacent trio.

[color=ec008c]”FLEE!”[/color]

And not retreat from confusion.

[hider=Effects:]

Using Expeditious Retreat, Wick dashes right 60 feet and casts COMMAND, with a Cleric DC of 11. She states, "FLEE!" hoping the Shadow would induce Attacks of Opportunity in his attempt to escape if possible.

She hopes her friends will not misunderstand her COMMAND, mistaking it as a cry to retreat from what's behind the gates.

[url=https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1197066][color=ec008c]Wick[/color][/url] 
HP: 17/17
AC: 17 (Breast Plate (14) + DEX Mod (1) + Shield (2))
Weapon: quarterstaff in dominant hand, others (sheathed)

Arcane Focus: Fleece Necklace
Concentration: Expeditious Retreat

Spell Slots: 
Warlock (Level 1): 1/1 First Level used 
Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 2/3 First Level used (recharged previously from Arcane Recovery)
Globe of Light Limit: 1/1 (used)

Spell Attack/DC:
Cleric: 3/11
Warlock: 6/14
Wizard: 4/12

Lesser Restoration: 1/Day after finishing a long rest (unused)
Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest (used)
Fey Presence: 1/short rest (recharged; unused)
[/hider]
[@Big Dread], [@Cu Chulainn], [@Hekazu], [@JBRam2002], [@Zverda],[@The Harbinger of Ferocity]