Darius' eye glints a crimson red once more as he weaves his spell. This time, they would be his to command without any tricks. The dark energies slam into the Troubadour...and seep into her. She falls over on the ground, off the horse...before standing back up again. However, it's clear she is not the one in control. Fear in her eyes, she can only watch as her body shoos her own steed away, into the woods. Neither the spirits, nor Darius wanted it to come to harm. Not so much with the staff wielder.
She stepped onto the slick stones. Her facial reaction was of clear pain and fear as Darius' magic forced her body to obey a will that was not her own and, even though she fought against it, it was futile. She stepped in front of the shaman and tried lifting her Slow staff to try and whack the shaman over the head. However, one single word ended that.
"Give." Darius spoke out. The troubadour was compelled to hand her staff right into Darius' hands.
"Jump." he spoke out once more. Her reaction was clearly frightened. She tried her best to resist, but it was not enough as she threw herself straight into the water around her. A few minutes later, her lifeless corpse would surface, the dark energies dissipating and Darius to return to normal, albeit with his crimson glint still visible in his eye.
It was at this point that he looked down and examined the staff. "What am I going to do with this..." he thought to himself. He considered throwing it away, but he suddenly felt compelled to whistle. He did not know why, but he followed his instinct.
Put Slow Staff into Convoy.