I bet the air is ripe in here.

The last ghostly tendrils of constraint slipped through Caligari’s clenched fingers and vanished into the air. The occult sigils she’d drawn in the snow were no more. Her undead army was run its course, the last of them having taken the curtain moments of it’s second life to quickly bury itself in the snow. Such thoughtful zombies they were. Caligari brushed her hands against each other and stretched as she took in what was left of the battlefield. Things seemed to be winding down, but there was always someone who didn’t know when to let things go. She was always anxious and irritable after raising the dead. It wasn’t the magic; it was the immediate and dysphoric mood cause by withdraw from the drugs she pumped through her veins. She loved those drugs and she hated them. But she had never found a way to perform her magic without them. And they felt amazing. Until they made her feel like shit. Her back was of particular discomfort at the moment, but that was normal when she rebounded.

She hacked and blew a stream of snot from her nose as she bent down to scoop up her discarded cloak. The cold of this miserable place would be settling in shortly. She worked her way over to the others and craned her neck to see the tail end of the fight. She couldn’t figure the staff wielding Elf out. She seemed immensely fragile and smothered by youth, but she was surrounded by powerful magic that appeared to be autonomous. That was a neat trick.

Caligari shook fresh white snow out of her matted and filthy hair as if it were an improvement. She didn’t know any of their names, not really; just what she’d picked up and gathered during the fight. She couldn’t even tell some of them apart. Was that one of them? Or was it the other guy down on the ground who was one of them?

“Did you lose anyone?” She didn’t sound particularly concerned, but it was a polite question to ask and she could do with a bit of practice being polite. There was a rushing sound of great wind and before anyone could answer the sky collapsed on top of them, stopping mere feet above their head. They were plunged into darkness and a cold she knew was felt by them all, not just her junkie self. She looked around within the confines of their magical dome of protection and let her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. She reached far above her head and raked the clawed tips of her boney finger rings/gauntlets across the interior surface of the magical dome. They sparked and left brief tracks of harsh green light then it was dark again.

“Well on the bright side, if anyone suffocates in here I can bring them back from the dead.” A well timed and sincere offer should serve the situation well.

OOC: Is Luna visibly discernable as a Dark Elf or is that only based on her type of magic?