Tired eyes and aching heads lined up outside of the pub at first light. Serril had ridden the entirety of the hamlet before anyone woke, ringing the Kir's cowbell to rouse everyone from their slumber. The party stood in front of the line, though to Murphy’s dismay, he was relegated to the villager line by his Demai captain. The big man was slowly pacing along the line, silently judging the recruits he'd gathered. Murphy felt a now familiar pang of guilt when the warrior skipped him in his assessment. Uundah was in the staff form, since they were going to be training. The idea of the O'jin learning to fight with his paws was something they'd considered, though his use as the staff was too undeniable in regards to their upcoming fight. Young Cardic attempted to join the line as well, but was dragged away by the ear by his aunt.

Once Serril was pleased with his assessment, he took post at front and centre. Before saying anything else, he nodded to the village smith. Dalley grunted, then distributed the sticks he was holding among the line. Murphy was skipped again, this time because he was already holding a staff. The smith gave him a strange look as he walked past, surely wondering why the wizard wasn't up front. The sideways glances from other citizens confirmed to him that it might be a shared sentiment.

Serril held a hand up to indicate for silence, and the line stopped its muttering. The big man rubbed the bridge of his nose in clear frustration before he spoke.

"That was pathetic" he declared, prompting scowls from the people. "I rang that bell before the light. You should have been standing ready a good half hour ago."

"Now wait just a minute sir" the Kir interrupted, stepping away from the line. "You said yourself there's no warriors here. No need for all your harsh words."

Serril looked the village chief up and down, deciding during the action on how to respond. "By that token good leader, there's no point in us being here."

The Kir looked blankly at him, confused by the statement. "Well I didn't say that" he laughed awkwardly.

Serril stepped forward, and stood above Babenor. "Your enemy is no mere monster" he said, addressing the line rather than the Kir. "Don't be mistaken, good people. You are indeed at war. Without proper discipline, you stand little chance in a skirmish."

"We wouldn't win the attention of a whore with sticks this pitiful" one of the villagers scoffed, clearly frustrated at their self appointed general. "How would you expect victory for us if all we have is this?" He asked incredulously, holding the stick out.

"We ought to be using magic" another villager chimed in. "You bought a wizard along just to have him swing a twig."

"You can't rely on magic for everything" Serril interrupted, quenching the broiling rebellion. "If that's all it took, they would have only sent him" he punctuated, gesturing dismissively at Murphy.

"I've heard plenty of stories about one wizard bein' a hero" the original outspoken villager defended. "What about the likes of Le' Shade or the mad King Serdin. Old Farren used to read me stories from his book, rest his soul. But I heard plenty of what a wizard can do from him, the rest of us too."

Serril ran a hand down his face. He wasn't angry, but more fed up. Something in his demeanour hinted that this wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with scared settlers. "Perhaps there are some in this world that can accomplish such a thing, though none of us hold such a great name. Eseyfirr, step forward."

Murphy felt his stomach drop. The big man was about to embarrass him in front of the small crowd, and he dreaded it. He nervously stepped forward, and met Serril at the front of the line. The Kir took the opportunity to fade back into the ranks of his people, anticipating the Demai's next point of topic.

"A wizard's magic is a reliable, if dangerous thing. But magic requires design. It can be unreliable in a situation the wizard isn't prepared for. A blade or axe, or even a staff, is much more versatile". He turned to Murphy and smirked. "I want you to attack me. You can use any magic you feel is fit, and I will only use this staff". He twirled his stick to emphasise.

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The villagers muttered amongst themselves sheepishly, though young Cardic could be seen gleaming from the sidelines. Murphy gulped, and looked at the small crowd. "I don't suppose I could get you all to step back?" He asked.

They listened readily, and all scurried to a distance. Murphy and his towering opponent were left alone in the dirt clearing outside of the pub. Serril smiled at him, before addressing the people again. "We'll call that reason number one. Magic is dangerous, and sometimes the wrong people are caught in its wroth."

Without thinking on it too much, Murphy got ready for the beating. He took a stance, looking as awkward as he felt, and stared down the Demai. "I'll try and go easy on you" he joked.

Serril responded by facing him square on, not bothering to take a stance of his own. "In the interest of fairness, I'll let you make the first move" he declared with confidence.

Murphy wasted no time in firing a stoneball, making sure to limit its force enough to keep from blowing a hole in his captain. Serril flinched before it hit him, demonstrating that he had at least some awareness of the spell. It still landed, Striking his hip hard enough to make him move one leg. Before Murphy had a moment to celebrate, he felt the blunted sting of a bowstaff smack him under the chin. The jolt knocked him onto his arse in the least graceful way possible, then the big man he hadn’t seen move in the first place, took a step back to wait for him to recover.

"Magic can leave the caster vulnerable after a spell" he declared loudly.

Murphy grunted, and sprung to his feet. He released a torrent of force aspect towards Serril, though the giant didn't budge. He instead threw his staff like a javelin, bouncing the tip off of the Warlock's forehead. Serril caught the ricocheted stick deftly on its return, and held his firm pose again within seconds.

"A mage tends to rely too heavily on their magic. Confidence can be one's downfall" Serril said, continuing his demeaning lesson.

Murphy fixed him with a deadly stare, contemplating the best way to hurt him. Uundah felt the rage rising.

"Don't tempt your fate. It's my fate too" the O'jin warned mentally.

"Don't fret my hideous little friend" Murphy thought back. "I won't hurt him too much."

He drenched himself in the ugly aspect, then empowered it. The sound of a villager retching was a good indication of success, though Serril remained still. Rather than reacting with a nauseous outburst, the Demai simply closed his eyes. Murphy took the opportunity to fire off two more stoneballs, recklessly not bothering to reduce the force. The spells shot towards the warrior at a speed so hasty it was hard for him to watch them. Before the first landed, Serril was already out of the way, lunging forwards with his senses limited. The staff caught Murphy by the ankle, sending him flipping onto his back. He rolled before the staff came down, swinging Uundah in the Demai's direction. Serril dodged again, then planted his boot into the recovering Warlock's chest. Hitting the dirt again, Murphy let out a cry of rage. He blasted immense force outwards in an attempt to get a moment to recover. The spell was effective in sending the big man sliding backwards. Still, his footing didn't falter.

On his feet again, Murphy gritted his teeth and held Uundah out for an attack. He blasted a wild mass of containment towards his opponent, empowering it as it flew. The spell worked enough to slow the warriors' movement, granting Murphy time to attack again. In his anger, he summoned a fireball, and sent it at the Demai. There was a gasp from a villager with enough guttural fortitude to watch the fight, then the flames broke with explosive pressure against the warrior. Serril was sent into the dirt with a loud and metallic thud, unable to move in time to catch his balance. As a follow-up, Murphy shot him with a strong ball of force, sending the heavy and rigid mass of man bouncing along the ground for several metres. His journey through the dirt was cut short when he crashed through the wall of a small shed housing barrels of still fermenting mead.

The dust started to settle with no sign of Serril, and the village remained silent. The bitter smell of spilled drink wafted through the crowd as the muttering started to fill the silence. Oats was aghast, looking between Murphy and the shed with panicked confusion. A foreboding dread snuffed the Warlock's rage once he noticed the sardonic smile painted across May's cheeks. He hurried to look back towards the shed, but only managed to turn his head half way before the pain hit him. He flew backwards, crashing into the dirt and clutching at his gut. The warrior had emerged within the blink of an eye, and punched him directly in the freshly healed wound on his gut. It felt to him as if he was being shot for a second time, the wind in his chest nowhere to be found. While he writhed in agony, the shadow of his captain blocked the warm light falling on his face. Serril stood above him, eyes still closed. He drew his sword, prompting a collective and shocked intake of air from the people still watching on. Rather than bury the pointy end into the heap of silver fur kicking at his feet, he dropped to one knee and placed the pommel against Murphy’s chest. The ugly aspect surrounding him was drawn into the weapons hilt, sucking away some of Murphy’s stored power in the process.

Finally, Serril stood, and addressed the crowd for his final point. He held his silence for enough time for the people to come out from the various points of cover they'd cowered behind, then he spoke.

"And finally. Magic can be chaos. To win a war you need order, not to place your faith blindly into the powers of Gods". He finished his statement by looking down at the Warlock at his feet. "Even if your God places blind faith into you."

Murphy didn’t respond, the struggle for breath took precedence. He turned to look at Uundah lying next to him. The staff had been knocked from his grip in that final punch, and the O'jin crystal was half buried in a shrub. Sensing his attention, Uundah reprimanded him. "You really are an idiot."

"I didn't start that fight" Murphy thought back, his mental voice as strained as his body felt.

"No, but you did try to end it."

Serril looked down at him one last time, before stepping over his body to order the line back into formation. Suddenly, Murphy wasn't feeling nearly as excited for his mission, as he was just a week before.