Thothalas tried to smile away his friends' concerns."I'm fine. I guess... I guess I'm getting too old for this stuff."
The mage got to his feet. He replaced his dagger which seemed ridiculous clasped in his long fingers. The first time he'd met these frogmen, he'd toasted a score of them. Now, he was lucky to muster a few pyrotechnics and a limp defense his grandmother's mother could fold with swat of her enameled fan. His smile turned sour despite his best efforts.
"Let's get to that Wall of Fog, shall we? I don't know about you guys, but if I don't get a cup of tea soon..."
The young elf's head jerked sharply back, and he glared murder at Tuculcha. His dagger was back in his hand and at her throat.
"What are you doing, witch? And don't lie. I can tell when a spell is directed at me. What did you just cast?"
Thothalas
