"This cannot be right," Fendros murmured to himself. "Who is this ghost?"

Through a frustrated roar, Rossarm attempted to order the Dominion soldiers to back down. It was too late. Whatever callous shouts he had to put the soldiers down, they could not be so easily heard through their screams, but Fendros could hear it.

"Numb yourselves, you fools! Do you not see a mage beyond your capabilities?!" He brought up both of his elbows. Purple magic crackled all the way around his arms. "You are all unworthy!" He struck a spell into the ground. A blast of radiant energy shocked out around him and just as quickly sucked its way back into the void they left behind. With it, the plants grasping the ankles of the soldiers blackened and rotted, as did the ankles themselves.

In horror, the soldiers dragged away their wounded, necrosis-inflicted legs and all.

Fendros was agape. "He's hurting our own men..." He said so Ahnasha could hear.

He could hear the cruel justifications of his father after he regained his temper. Probably something along the lines of considering the wounded men as combat ineffective anyway.

"Father!" Fendros called out. "Enough!"

Rossarm did not respond. He poured more power into a narrow white ray of magic that struck the ghost's ward like a battering ram.

All around him, Rossarm's mages rallied and drew up in pairs, one ahead holding a ward in both hands while another behind struck the oncoming Daedra with torrents of lightning.

A small thought died in the back of Fendros' mind as to why Rossarm was concentrating as much power into that particular spell. He pulled another arrow and drew it. His aim slowly edged to Rossarm's neck. If his father would spend more allied lives for his anger, Fendros would make sure to stop him.