Sirati, the 39th Feather of War, does not appreciate this new magic. Oikon was not meant to have such magics!

Where will she govern now?!?

She's going to try and grab this bad weird purple thing and its surrounding space, and drop it on this new problem.

The purple sun of Xereus isn’t actually a sun. Isn’t properly physical even. A spherical patch of nothing, back lit by sickly purple no matter which direction one views it from. It hovers a few feet above the battlefield and goes where Elspeth directs. Everywhere it passes, goblins are sucked screaming into the nothingness. Not smashed, nor crushed. Not ripped asunder. Simply made to not be. Elspeth is careful not to let it get too close to friendly lines. 

Wow! What a bad purple thing!

The 19th Warlock of Bones (most people don't particularly want to be a Warlock of Bones) creates a cylinder of force around this strange natural mage, and pushes a plunger down on top of it.

Well that is inconvenient, but not actually fatal. Elspeth finds herself plungered down into the ground. What a sticky unpleasant situation. 

Elspeth is not a battlemage, and it takes her longer than it should to remember that enemy wizards are a thing. Being plungered into the mud certainly reminds her though. Ineffectual, but evidently the enemy wizard realized that killing her would cause the purple sun to dissipate… she looks with not her eyes to see where the winds ebb and flow. Who is this enemy wizard? 

Elspeth will start attempting to claw her way out of the mud. So much for her lovely purple and green Nuln College of Magic robes…

How are the allied soldiers faring, come to think of it? Saving them was, after all, the whole point of this stupid fight. 

The sight of dozens of goblins ripped from the ground and into a deadly void has broken the original goblin line, and the soldiers have taken the opportunity to shift to a tighter formation. Apprehension rolls off of them, and several are injured, but for now all are still standing.

Security Official Sirati is much more invested in killing this weird bad mage than ever before!

What if the contents of her magic container suddenly super-heated? Will this be enough to stop all the bad weird magic?

Well, that will incinerate Elspeth which is really unbelievably annoying. It will also trigger the hourglass though, so here is Elspeth standing beside the container, apparently unburned but very annoyed. 

It is very much time for the enemy wizard to be dead. Especially with these bizarre un-dispelable spells. Where are the winds of magic gathering- that strange hairless mammoth thing? Is the wizard riding the mammoth? Elspeth feels like a fool. Of course the wizard is the mammoth. Why had she assumed titans and giants would be humanoid? Well, if she can see it… 

Elspeth would very much like for this mammoth wizard to have many rupturing brain aneurisms. Right now please. And the battle- not to mention the purple sun itself- have stirred up the winds of Shyish enough that this spell shouldn’t be any trouble at all. 

Oh no! So ends the life and exploits of the Silver Missionary, General Sirati, 19th Warlock of Bones, 39th Feather of War, 73rd Curator of the Oncoming Night, 114th Paragon of Fear, Security Officer of the Myxini Empire. 

Cut down in the prime of her youth! With so much of her career still to come!

With the titan convulsing on the ground, the humans are able to break out from within the remaining goblins. They begin spreading out to encircle the force, moving to recreate the original plan.

Elspeth will cast one more curse of years, just to ensure she gets them all. The brief magical duel, and the purple sun’s slaughter have stirred Shyish more than enough of that. She’ll stash as much of the remainder as she can in her black periapt, because what if she needs it later? 

Now seems about right to collapse… what else needs done? She gives an experimental tug on one of the arrows, but the vicious barbs tear at her flesh so she leaves them alone. What else? The purple sun of Xereus will continue until she dies or until she dispels it. A responsible archmage would not leave that as a problem for others… she sends it on one more pass through the densest concentration of goblins then dispels it. Anything else? No? Then Elspeth will go ahead and collapse now. 

Some time later, Elspeth awakes to the unmistakable feeling of having an arrow wound poked with a searing brass rod. She's lying on an oiled leather pad, with two (nude, oiled) surgeons standing over her. The arrows have been removed, and they're attempting to insert heated rods into the wounds, poking around for a moment before coming back with a needle and gut. She isn't tied down, but a soldier (also nude and oiled) is standing by ready to hold her in place or offer wine.

“Well this is the third strangest way I’ve ever woken up,” she says. 

"Ah, Lady Wizard. I apologize for the discomfort. We find marking a wound with bronze and fire to prevent almost half of potential blood poisonings. I have some wine for you, it may help."

“I… suppose that’s at least as effective as just pouring wine on the wound. You don’t happen to have any healing potions laying around? In any case, my species is rather immune to infections.” 

Elspeth doesn’t know whether to be relieved or very concerned that they didn’t notice her lack of a pulse. Now… how to tactfully explain that drinking blood would solve her problems? Countess Emmanuel would have known. That thought sends another pang of loss through her. 

"A potion? Most would not be relevant to you unless you wished to help us experiment. Are you feeling lethargic? I have a potion of goat's blood for anemic lethargy, or of coca and honeyed wine for melancholic lethargy."

“I…” Elspeth frowns. This may actually be easier than she thought. “Goat’s blood would help in fact. Not as much as some things, but likely easier to acquire. No, I was speaking of potions which cause your wounds to flow closed without infection, or restore lost blood, or knit sundered bone. If your people do not know the making of such things, I would be happy to teach and fully expect the process to be generalizable. To my knowledge, it doesn’t require conscious manipulation of the winds of magic and so should be possible to reach even your sort of wizard.” 

If they’re willing to accept her help off the battlefield then Elspeth doesn’t have to go through the unpleasant process of being incinerated again! 

"We do not know of such medicine that can close wounds and knit bones! I would pay dearly for such techniques, though the city would outbid me! The mages would like to hear you speak more on these winds, as well. They sense strange magics moving about you, but have not found the patterns far from you or your spells. But would you like to try the potion? Or the blood itself, I can have some brought in if you can make use of it."

The surgeons have stopped trying to sterilize her wounds, but are still attempting to suture them.

“You don’t need to do that. The blood itself would be fine. I would of course be happy to share my knowledge. All I truly want from my eternity is a nice tower somewhere where I can learn and teach. This, I suspect, is a low enough price any would be willing to pay.” 

"I should hope so! We have few towers, but to devote study to tower construction would be a small price next to potions that close wounds!"

He steps away to retrieve the blood.

"My goat's blood is four days old. Boiled, then sealed under wax. Would a fresh goat to slaughter be superior?"

“It would, but this will be sufficient.” Eeeeeew animal blood. Oh well. Asking for human blood would be weirder, and it’s not like Elspeth actually has to be healthy as long as she manages to avoid battlefields in the future. She drinks, and her wounds flow closed- slowly for her. She hopes no one notices the fangs. 

“It doesn’t actually have to be tower-shaped,” Elspeth continues after discreetly wiping her mouth. “Nuln found that most convenient because it was a bustling metropolis of like… a few hundred thousand I think the last census was? Otherwise, I think wizards often prefer towers because ‘wizard’s tower’ is a trope where I come from. It… doesn’t have to be shaped like a tower. I digressed.” 

The surgeons look very impressed.

"Is this healing an ability granted by your wizardry? Or is it other natural magic of your race?"

“It is innate magic of my race, but it is possible to replicate with my wizardry.”

To tell them that her race is infectious, or no? If she were to ask if this place has vampires they may guess she is one. Though the fact that they haven’t already is itself evidence they do not… 

Elspeth will look into their minds to see if they have any suspicions. 

Their minds continue to be muted, difficult to see clearly, but they do not seem suspicious. The surgeon who spoke is mentally compiling his report for the archivist, and takes a moment to briefly estimate the wealth produced by this manner of healing. Apparently the locals think in fiat currency, though his mind briefly brushes over a conversion to silver. The assistant surgeon is cleaning the tools in boiling water, and independently compiling his own report. The soldier is a little concerned about how much blood she drank, and is definitely considering whether she's a monster, but seems to figure that anyone willing to make overtures of helping the city is at least easier to deal with than the goblins (and apparently titans)!

“Yes, well. Um. I assume the goblins have all died off by now?” 

"As far as we can tell. They seem to have grown weaker with passing minutes. Those who tried to swim, drowned, and those who tried to hide were found later, dead or dying. Was this the goal of your magic?"