The small skirmish was over before it had almost begun, Hissra wading into the fringes and casting magic that incapacitated those fighters that hadn't heeded Ordhan's call to lay down their arms. Cormac lowered his shield and sword, sheathing the blade with a contemptuous look at Dolain. The elf had a venomous look on his face, and the arrow through the foot of a wailing human nearby said volumes about his cowardice, to shoot a man after a cease-fire had been called.
Although he was wearing the armor of a knight, Cormac in no way represented any authority of the crown, and he stood awkward and uncomfortable for a moment. Conlan's words drew his attention, and he snapped his head around, narrowing his eyes at the other warrior. "Obviously, they haven't been," he said, gesturing towards Karashok and the others as they drew close, keeping his voice low to avoid unnecessary attention from the rest in the group. No reason to encourage speculation that there was any disagreement within the ranks. "But if they had been, and any of them had been injured, I would have to blame whoever was the last shield warrior that ran off and left them unguarded." His words throbbed with a seething anger. Conlan had suggested a tactic at the Keep, and while Cormac had agreed to try to stick to it, every situation was obviously different. Any man who had served in a military would know, even the best laid plans seldom worked out as hoped. He had been foolish to trust Falina with the group, and he wouldn't be repeating that mistake soon.
Waving the man off, he stalked towards Karashok and the others, seeing Shartan and Falina drifting along behind. He found a tree nearby to lean against, close enough to keep an eye on Falina and the goings-on, but not close enough to encourage conversation. He was content to let Ordhan and Conlan sort this mess out. They had the authority and interest in doing so, and Cormac knew that diplomacy was hardly his strong suit.