The sound of the Spinx's flying exclamation overhead, as well as the younger female's loud request for aid, without a doubt, caught the mages attention, in the midst of her mummy-limb whacking endevours. However, it would not be soon afterwards, before an even mightier sound would be heard throughout the desert, one which would greatly startle her. "What's a Bahadur?!" The red haired mage loudly inquired back, before the very sands beneath her feet began to shake from a sudden, earth-trembling trumpet blast blown from a distance. Her eyes widened, as she gazed at the massive and unnatural phenomenon which had suddenly appeared on the battlefield. It was an entity even an unstable mind such as hers, could perceive full well to avoid. She continued to stare at the massive entity with great awe, for quite some time, even after the girl had come into close proximity of her, and began anxiously shouting her warnings. "I know not what a rider is, girl, but indeed we must flee!" The mage eventually agreed.

Upon the mercenary's rejoining inquiry, the mage pointed ahead at the massive creature of her main interest, "Yes, I found a giant elephant, King Albre–OH!" She exclaimed, her speech interrupted as she turned her head to unexpectedly see a completely shirtless mercenary. "The undead have stolen your armor!" She continued, before turning around to face the direction of the pointed sword. Leaning slightly forward, and squinting her eyes, she more thoroughly examined the indicated undead figure. She gazed at the slow moving corpse for a few moments, making a 'Hmm' sound in the midst of her process, before finally providing an answer. "Behold, he appears much more ugly than I remember, yet he indeed possesses familiar traits of a man I once knew!"  

Taking a step forward, in order to approach the indicated walking undead figure, she suddenly paused for a moment, in order to gaze at an object on the ground in front of her. It was a delimbed finger crawling about on the ground, in it's attempt to reassemble itself to an owner. The finger's attempts would be intercepted however, as the mage leaned down in order to pick up and object, and hold it up in front of her face, appearing completely undisturbed by the fact that an undead finger was wiggling about in her front of her. The mage looked unusually concentrated, as she examined the undead finger from a few different angles, before turning her gaze to the undead city in a rather narrow eyed and suspicious manner. She was in the midst of attempting to figure out something. Something seemed off.
"He cannot be returned like 'this'." The mage finally spoke in a slightly assertive tone, as she turned back to her companions, displaying the undead wiggling finger in front of them. Indeed, in the dead brother's current state, all he would end up doing was becoming a deadly threat for the alive brother, as well as for any other living individual's around him. His body could not be brought back in it's current state. 

Meanwhile, as the massive war elephant and it's rider continued to approach even closer, a loud, excruciatingly terrifying, spectral whinnying of some sort would also suddenly be heard off in the distance, as they now joined into the undead fray. "I am unable to form another portal, yet…" The mage, nonchalantly toned, deemed it wise to now inform her comrades of, in the midst of the catastrophe.

At the younger girl's suggestion, concerning which method to go about, in order to fulfill their promise to the mourning brother at the refuge, the mage's facial expression revealed that she was also pondering the same. Izzey Ius was also not too keen on settling for only returning the fallen brother's equipment back to the camp, instead of his whole body. For her, the redemption of her name was at stake. Yet, given the current series of unfortunate circumstance, there did not seem to be many other options to settle for.

As the irritable natured Sphinx laded and began it's declarations, the mage's previous ponderings would find themselves interrupted, and her attention would find itself shifted towards another matter. An uninhibited, annoyed expression appeared upon the rambunctious natured, orange-head woman, as her face was quickly made red with anger, and she made and effort to defend her case, in retaliation, "Listen here, you oversized chicken wing! I'll have you know magic does not just limitlessly flow about one's veins like watery springs! Know you nothing is magical refreshing?! The scroll needs time to recharge!"

Folding her arms, she openly displayed her annoyance, before turning her attention back to the mercenary, as he began his formulation of a strategy. "Behold! Even one who is unmagical, is able to perceive the concept of time and magic, better than you!" When it came to most matters, the mage rarely exhibited anger. Yet, when it came to magic, especially in reference to her own, she was notably extremely sensitive concerning the subject. 

Opening her satchel again, she pulled out her enchanted scroll, which contained the magical spell for the portal, and placed it unfolded it upon the sand. Sitting down, cross-legged styled, she rose both her hands over the scroll, in an almost claw-like fashion, as she began the process of focusing her magical energy into recharging the scroll's spell more rapidly. A scarlet aura began to emit from her hands, into the scroll, visibly displaying her intent. 

"Thirty minutes!" The mage declared, her tone displaying that she was still rather annoyed, while her face gazed at the scroll in a highly concentrated manner.

Of the various, unintelligible, magically charged symbols and syllables moving about throughout the enchanted scroll, the magical syllables for the portal spell in particular, gradually glowed brighter and brighter with scarlet, as the mage diligently worked to recharge the spell. The mercenary, younger girl, and her various companions did a very good job keeping the undead hordes at bay, allowing the mage to place all of her focus upon her task. Despite this uninterrupted concentration, however, the mage's expression displayed that was also not having the easiest time, despite not being in physical combat, as her once annoyed expression now additionally revealed subtle signs of fatigue. The draining of magical energies was having an effect on her.

As the scarlet aura admitting from her palms eventually ceased, the mage grabbed the scroll, and stood up, beginning her boastful declaration, "Behold, the Mightiest Practicer of the Magical Arts's task is complete! Observe how through my extraordinary magical prowess, the task has even been greatly shortened! You may offer your gratitude and praises upon our arrival to the camp!" Her boasting, while extraordinarily prideful, was not without reason, however; For the recharging process, surprisingly enough, actually ended up taking fifteen less minutes than intended.
Placing the scroll in mid-air, as she did back at the camp, she prepared for the culmination of her appointed task. Before continuing the process, however, the mage found herself suddenly rubbing her forehead with closed eyes, as she released a light groan, similar to one a person makes upon first awaking from an unpleasant slumber. The greatly hastened process of spell recovery, was indeed not without consequence, and had proven to have taken a toll upon the mages stamina, as she found herself slightly disorientated, and requiring a moment to regain her composure.
As she eventually continued towards the final step of her task, the crimson aura once again reappeared from her palms. The familiar, black dotted abnormality formed in mid-air once again, gradually widening into a black ring, as the eagerly awaited portal began to finally reveal itself. A pleased smirk appeared upon the mage's lips, as she proudly exclaimed, "We go!" Success seemed at hand, as it appeared that everyone would live to fight yet another day, all while still successfully managing to fulfill their promise of returning the dead brother's corpse back to the camp.

Unfortunately, the story would not end that easily..

"No!" Suddenly came a loud and unusually desperate shout from the mage, as her attention was suddenly turned towards yet another unfortunate occurrence. There, upon a sand dune in the distance, separated from the rest of his companions, stood another undead corpse. Yet this corpse, would be much more unique in comparison to his undead brethren. He was not equipped with the typical sword or spear of his fellow brethren, most of whom made rather pathetic attempts at killing their opponents, as their rotted corpses clumsily swung the steel weapons about. This undead corpse upon the dune, would be equipped with something much more formidable; a bow and arrows.
The rusted projectile quickly soared through the air, as it traveled with surprisingly precise acurracy towards it's intended target. The rusted projectile's intended target, however, would not be the mercenary, nor the girl, nor her companions, nor even the mage herself, but something much more detrimental to the wellbeing of the group, something completely incapable of defending itself; the enchanted scroll hovering in mid-air.
The arrow soared through the air with such great accuracy and speed, the mage had little time to consider her options. Her immediate understanding, however, was well aware that if the arrow successfully pierced through the floating scroll, not only would the portal spell very likely be damaged far beyond repair, but also a large number of other spells transcribed within the enchanted scroll, as well; spells which she'd gone through many arduous and near-death experiences and adventures, in order to obtain. With little window of opportunity to react, and realization of the dire consequences at stake, the orange haired woman did what any power hungry mage would do in such a situation…

With a leap, the mage lunged forward into the air, arms outstretched, and the arrow met it's new target; the mage herself. The enchanted scroll dropped the ground, and the portal immediately disappeared, as the arrow pierced into the castor. A short, yet pain filled shout was heard upon impact. Even this loud demonstration of injury, however, was far more suppressed than the actual reality of her pain; for the mage opted to still save face, even despite her immense pain. The woman violent fell to the ground, rolling through the sands upon landing. With continued suppressed moans of pain, she could be seen tightly gripping her left wrist with her right hand, while her left hand trembled with immense pain, revealing her injury; the rusted arrow had pierced directly through her left palm.
Blood from the wound dripped upon the sands, as the mage looked back up into the distance, at the dune, her vision now somewhat blurred due to a mixture of fatigue and pain. The bow and arrow armed corpse seemed to gaze right back at the wounded woman from afar. The whole ordeal was quite an unusual scene, as the two seemed to simply gaze at each other from afar, for quite some time after the incident, the undead archer surprisingly not even reloading his bow, yet. It would be in the midst of this unusual exchanging of gazes between one another, that the faint sounds of galloping against the sand would eventually be heard, increasingly becoming louder and louder. Three additional figures suddenly appeared upon the sand dunes, appearing from both sides of the undead archer. The injured woman squinted her eyes, in order to better examine the fast approaching figures, before yet another nightmarish whinnying was heard, this time with almost ear perching aptitude, immediately revealing their identity. The riders were here…

((OOC: Hue hue hue, hard mode activated))