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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 343322" data-attributes="member: 227">And here it is, the finale of the long, bitter struggle against the werewolf coven...Stalking out of the darkness were more werewolves, but they weren't coming in some disorderly rush, but in calm, calculating approach. Although in wolfman form, many clutched weapons of all types. The one thing they all had in common was that, strapped to their chests, were diminuitive figures that whimpered and wriggled and screamed. Human babies. Some of the commoners within began to identify them as the children of now-dead peasants, their voices hushed in horror. In the midst of the new wave, a man walked, the man who had struck down Latorath with lightning. Clad in black, standing out as the sole figure not in wolf-form, arcane energy crackled around the figure as he strode confidently along in the midst of his underlings. For Cord, the sickening feeling that had pervaded the place had been incredibly string during the first assault of the werewolves, but now it was nearly overwhelming; the earth itself could feel not just arcane energy, but corrupt divine energy, exuding from the man.The militia held back from opening fire, unwilling to shoot for fear of hitting the babies, uncertain as to what they should do as the band of werewolves strode closer. The mercenaries reacted in a confused manner too. Kale leveled his bow, aiming for the throat of one of the monstrosities, confident his skill with the bow would see him stike true. Burl on the other hand exhorted the militia to fight on using all means at hand. “Those babies are as good as dead either way. If we don’t turn the creatures back, they will kill all of us that are still alive and then how will we save them? Fire now to save those in the back of the temple who are still alive and have a future! Kale, Wyshira, if ever there was a time for the vials of fire, we need to use them!" The necromancer grabbed two of the jars of alchemist's fire, but found his hand stayed by the elderly dwarf by his side. "Do not say such things," Cord said, still facing the direction of the approaching figure but clenching Burl's arm tightly with concealed strength. "And do not take a single step that you are not prepared to withdraw. Children have a knack for surviving, young wizard. Tread lightly when you claim to have no other option but to kill a young child."Meanwhile Wyshira had run to the crumpled form of Latorath the moment his body had hit the ground, still crackling with electrical energy. She couldn't imagine what had happened; what was the source of such a terrible stroke? But she didn't look to see what was coming; she only hurried over to kneel beside the Inquisitor's crumpled form, hoping - no praying - she would see the rise and fall of his chest, proof that he still lived.Wyshira found herself at Latorath's side with the few quick strides it took to bring her to the crumpled heap. Kneeling down on the blood-slicked floor of the temple-cum-charnel house, she saw the armoured man still concious, barely, holding on to the real world with barely a thread. Clearly he was in agony, but when she moved to cast magic upon him, he warded off her hand with a gauntlet, then grasping it tightly. When he spoke it was weak, but determined. "Save your magic, Ishrakite, to fight the Master. It is out there, now; it is the heart of all this carnage. I can look after myself." The band of werewolves continued to approach, these bigger, less scabrous specimens stalking with grace and an evil yet intelligent glint to their eyes. The dark man kept an impassive face as they closed on the temple. The men were afraid, uncertain, even despite Kale's words of exhortation. All were thankful when Cord restrained Burl from firebombing the oncoming coven, but many felt the same as the necromancer; they simply could not bring themselves to take the actions that the wizard proposed. Uneasiness reigned supreme, as commoners began to wail and whimper in fear, grown men shuddered at the nightmare before them, and the darkness seemed to grow thicker.Evant stood by Burl. "The dwarf is right; we cannot just burn the children." Yet in the paladin's usually steadfast and confident voice was the wavering note of doubt, uncertainty, not knowing what to do or how to react to this grotesque situation they were faced with. Nearby, Wolf growled in a manner more akin to his namesake than those abominations out there could ever hope to be, wrenching his shortspear from the ribcage of a fallen wolfman and staring out at the oncoming foe.And Kale fired, with time for a few shots. The militia dared not; they lacked his skill with the bow, his ability to place a precise shot into even confused melee without fear of striking a friend; if they barraged the beasts with bolts, then surely the babies would die. But Kale was skilled enough he could place his shots accurately. The first shot lanced out, catching a werewolf in the shoulder, silvered head biting deep. It howled in pain but the strike was not enough to drop the fell beast; the greater effect of the shot was to make the entire pack suddenly realise they weren't as safe as they thought they were, and they began to lope forwards at speed, ahead of the man in black. Kale's second shot hit the same werewolf, yet still the thing kept on coming, reaching up with a grimace on its feral features to snap each of the arrow shafts off. The man in black, striding slowly along at the back, shook his head as if in mocking sadness. "Fools." His voice was smooth, languid, reverberating with darkness. Pausing for a moment to scan the temple more closely, he saw Kale, the sniper haranguing his troops. He raised his hand, a wand glinting there of crystalline blue, and with a muttered word sent another arc of lighting stabbing out at the man.</blockquote>

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