Cedric stands stunned over the body of the fallen creature for a moment. It seemed like one moment it was ready to rend Dareios in half, and then one small cut later, whatever forces were driving it suddenly left. Foul magic indeed.
Still in a daze, he reaches down to clean his blade on a piece of cloth at his feet, only as to realize that it is someone's clothing. He resheathes his sword and looks around at the decimation of the small church. Dead and dismembered bodies lie everywhere. Friends, strangers, enemies. Darious franticaly sawing at the heads of his own allies, begging for Skorl's help.
"By the gods. . ."
Skorl's question shakes him from his shock.
"If the girl yet lives . . . then she I pray she can survive another night. Because I do no think we are in a state to seek her. Nor would I wish to remain here any longer."