Zatana studied the battlefield below the wall from her perch. The swaths of the dead were pilled high as the dunes along the Dread Coast, tossed by the tide of battle. Soon soldiers would go below and sort the living from the dead. The enemy and friend. One would be giving a proper burial, the other? A pyre was likely. The dark elf sighed and tried to ignore the reek of burnt troll. They smelled foul in life, in death it wasn't much better. Zatana was of the opinion that burnt troll smelled worst of all. Turning back the wall, content that Manald was within the safety of allies she studied the strange woman with Acrius. A very light woman, she looked to have been marred by the fighting.

They were all marred by fighting, Zatana amended to herself. She was hardly unscathed and Acrius looked in dire need of a rest. Though from the title Acrius gave her, the woman was a cleric. A welcomed thing in this bloody mess. Stepping from the merlon, the dark elf moved to a less conspicuous position where she had a full range of the battlements and could easily move to cover Prince Leonidas if it was needed. '[i]Merely because the battle is won, does not mean my guard should be let down. Was I an assassin I would wait until the enemy was assured of his victory and then strike.'[/i] She was an assassin, a spy. It was her job to think like an enemy and thus keep the Crown Prince of the Empire of Man alive and well. Two crotchety old men would rip her to pieces if she failed after all. Stringing her bow, Zatana put the weapon back it its place and checked her knives. Loosening them in their sheathes in case she needed to intervene. Though, as she studied the healer, it appeared the young woman looked tired and thus less of a threat. Of course, it was best to never assume anything other than everything was a lie.

Zatana spared a quick glance towards their fleeing foes. She wanted to go after them, strike the head of the snake from the body. Her own fight, however, had ended that thought. There was no point in sending a tired assassin to assassinate and thus make a mess of things. She already had her minute by jumping off the wall. There was no need to further stain her reputation by getting herself thrown into a goblin's stew pot.