What a touching moment. It'd be awful if something happened to break up such a charming group- like a low line of Antivan chanting that culminates in a shadowy vortex roiling into being behind them conjured into being by the shape of a mage at the end of the hall, knife dug into her arm, eyes glowing red. A similar, smaller vortex floats at her elbow and she shoves the hand without the knife into it, a massive fist boiling into being, lashing out at the group.