Lucien wandered through the remains of what could possibly be the last friends he'd ever see, forming opinions of each as he passed by. He had noticed Cythlla and Ruinil soon after the fight due to their injuries basically screaming out for help, but had arrived after the cuts, bruises and bones were mended. He sighed, now he felt a little bad. While he had taken something of a beating himself, others were in worse condition for various reasons. The cleric then remembered an old battle tactic that he had seen used once during an orc incursion of a small village. A Wall of Flesh, which placed a wall of dead bodies between two buildings to create a funnel into an open area, leaving those who got through to a select few fighters, and the crowd behind the barrier exposed to archers and crossbowmen. "Malevolent, but more than effective in most cases..." He stroked his beard, his inner tactician coming through. "But so much death is required to make one... a last ditch solution, then."
He was back to his opinions, the first and foremost being the young Necromancer that was tagging along with the group. 'She's a masochist, no doubt. Took a dagger straight through her leg and laughed it off... but she doesn't seem too bad, I guess. I might pull the lass away from necromancy a bit, show her some things about restoration.' He laughed at the thought, sitting down on a rock and starting to clean his mace with an aging, gray cloth. Whether the cleric or the cloth was older was anyone's guess.
His thoughts then drifted to Evelyn, the last Templar that outranked lieutenants, and the only one that could possibly fight back against these forces of evil. 'A smart one, she is. Lass'll be the one that saves us all, but she's a hothead, sometimes. If anything will, that will be what kills her.' He'd cleaned most of the blood from his buzdygan, each blade on the head having dulled slightly in the fight. This was not a good week for his equipment.
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