"No. He stays with us," Neria stated. Anders was able to breathe a little easier now. He was touched that she was willing to stand up for him like this when she could have handed him over to the templars just as easily.

"Hardly surprising," said Rylock. "The Wardens have ever been a haven for criminals and maleficar.
"I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught. Now you come with us." The three templars drew their blades and readied their shields, prepared to deal with the four Wardens.

Oghren pulled out his ax, Anders, his staff, Velanna, her own staff, and Neria… a knife?

A seductive grin formed on her face as she sliced her palm, a glowing red liquid pouring out of it. She hadn't been running out of mana, and she didn't need to use this type of magic. However, she had decided that she would use it nonetheless. To taunt them. To horrify them.

And it worked. Rylock blanched when she saw the abominable magic in action, knowing immediately what that brightly glowing blood tricking down the mage's hand entailed. She looked at Anders, who had drawn his staff, staring at the elf with a look of shock equal to that of the templar's.

She had been wrong. She had been right.

The Wardens have ever been a haven for maleficar.

They had been after the wrong one. Rylock dropped to her knees, her blood boiling—and in more ways than one. She had fought abominations, apostates and the like, but this magic that was overwhelming her body… she had never felt any sensation quite like it. She tried to will herself to pick up her fallen sword, but she could not. Maker… was this how it would end? Was she really going to die here, like this? And with that thought, her knees buckled, and she fell onto her chest, unable to withstand the blood magic. Everything went dark.

The templars now dead, Neria smiled, the image of the look of horror on the templar's face still with her. She wiped the bloody knife off on the inside of her skirt, and then slipped it into her boot.

"Didn't you just use that knife to slit some sod's throat in the forest?" Oghren pointed out. "You catch diseases that way."

Rolling her eyes, Neria healed the gash on her hand, the wound sealing itself, but the blood remaining. Licking her fingers, she looked at Anders, an eyebrow raised.

"What?" A look of realization forming on her face, she giggled. "Oh, you didn't know?"