The mage cackles a short laugh-snort. "Helpless if caught unprepeared, if armed and ready, they are not so easy beaten. Better to cut the grass before it grows too long. And remind me to kill any child, or pregnant goblin. Also you mention the ogre. I bent his will at my leisure; no my young monk, what you call maturity is the discipline of not surpassing your own potential that your masters preach. Balance, and what not. A pitiful philosophy. Now let us leave or banter for later, it's getting late, and I'm still wining on the head count." leaving the irony floating in the air, the mage gives his back to the monk, his cape fluttering behind him, as he advances int the cave. Irony or not, the mage does seem keen on killing whatever he finds. After all he knew the black dragon was being controlled and used to fight the group against it's will, but didn't hesitate in killing it, nor adviced the contrary when there was enough time.