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You let the Tiefling woman run. She didn't try to escalate the situation. She didn't take a hostage and give you an ultimatum. She didn't try pulling another weapon that would not be so easily negated by a <span class="mu-i">Shield</span>. She recognized the futility of her actions and made the decision to retreat and deescalate. At the very least, she won't be shooting anyone with the blasting rod that fell from her hands as she fled the scene.
Still, you cannot drop your guard just yet.
The gnome spoke of revolution, meaning violence in the streets, so you must do your job and secure the camp from monsters and brigands. None of your bone boys followed you to work, as they might have spooked the patrons of Vida's establishment. So you will have to make due with the materials that you have on hand.
A flick of the wrist shapes the Dragon's Blood into a weave of life and death, a balance of the positive and the negative energies that creates a faint echo of the mind to animate the fallen body. Not pure death, for such beings are anathema to the living and seek only to spread death until their own destruction. Not pure life, for without the hand of an angel to guide the soul back to the body, such resurrections are a hateful and empty blasphemous mockery of the living.
With a perfect balance, you raise the corpses before you as skeletons that do not struggle against the leash. Friendly and adorably macabre things that you can put to task and trust will not murder you in your sleep.
"Secure the weapons and guard this place," you order your new skeletons. Your voice remains cold, distant, professional. "Direct anyone fleeing violence to enter this building. Check them for weapons. Let no one armed enter unless they belong to the City Guard, or if they allow you to secure their weapons. Block entry, but only attack if they attack first. Treat attacks against the people within this building as attacks your own person."
When they move into position, you can finally let your guard down and relax.
You take a deep breath and let all the tension fade, you body shifting out of its battle posture.
You take another deep breath, and allow your senses to relax. Your mind no longer ignoring the things it deems unimportant, the stimuli that it does not recognize as a threat, or someone who needs to be protected.
It's at that moment that you see the eyes of all the patrons locked on you. Uncertain, scared, fearful. The same wariness in their eyes that you've seen in every companion you've worked with, every civilian you've rescued, every quest giver who saw your work up close. As the Morrigan you curled away from such looks, put up distance and acted cold and aloof, as if those eyes didn't bother you as much as they did.
But right now, you're not the Morrigan, are you? You let that part of yourself spring loose to protect your friend's friend, and the lovely patrons of her establishment by eliminating the danger, but now that they're gone you can pack all of that away.
