[center]Baeshri Pass - Caravan Centaurus[/center]

	Rem smiled at Blake, the kind of half-mad smile that expresses the realization of just how much crap you're in. "Did that lightning taste any good? I always figured it would taste like purple." The druid joked. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he whistled loudly and sharply, echoing all down the pass. The sound was attracting something, like a magicked call. "These ones taste purple too. Don't let them sting you." He lied. The tiny fluttering of wings could be heard even over the sounds of battle. Hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. The little purple dragonflies swarmed at Blake. Totally benign creatures but there was no telling if he knew that. Using something dangerous had crossed his mind but there was no guarantee he would have been able to keep them from murdering everything in sight except himself.

	Blake's danger was only mitigated with that swarm in his face, Rem ran over a proper solution. He ran his sense of magic deep, tugging on the strength of the earth that rested beneath him. If Blake could dissipate what magic he used then he wouldn't hit him directly with magic. He felt for it in the stone beneath the dirt that ran all the way up to the rock face protruding from the ground. He could borrow some of that and return it when he was finished. Rem flexed his arm instinctively, feeling the rock shuffle beneath like it was part of him.