The amount of confusion that came after Varamadras and Tarac had announced Alcart, a small hole a couple of hours away from HagaFosiel, was under attack, was grand. He was called to the meeting room, where Se'ref seemed rather mad, well, he should be, the town was under his protection after all, and he was its lord. The Elite were all gathered there, few of them would not come along, or not immediately because they had other missions and assignments. He however, was given something he normally could only dream about: control. 

Varamadras didn't seem too happy about it, but he and Tarac concluded that Orractous and Marius would lead their forces into battle, and it was their task to make sure Alcart wouldn't fall into the hands of the enemy. He ignored the others furthermore, saying goodbye to his Lord as he was used to, and also thanking him for the chance. And he was off, rallying the troops, letting Groupleaders know that they had to make ready because within the hour he wanted the Mancers to be on Dragons flying to the city, and soldiers to be starting their long walk. They would have to keep out the Knights and the Goodland's soldiers until reinforcements came, which was much harder than seemed, since Alcart had a shitty defense, and with one wall down, chances were bad. 

He flew down to the barracks, that were played against the North walls, speaking to the generals there about the situation, before he headed south, where the wall was broken, and soldiers were dying by the minute, trying to defend the inner city. He saw bowmen passing him on the street as they ran to the fight, carrying often more than just one bow, and hundreds of arrows. Within him his monster cried out, and green smoke rose from his skin. It was unclear if his eyes were already pitch black, but judging by the amazed looks he got from some of the soldiers stationed at the Southern wall, he gambled the possibility was there.