All of the talking was a complete waste of time as far as Amalia was concerned, but she planned on taking full advantage of the fact that these people were too stupid to be efficient. While the Templar made his grandiose gestures and the woman priest made a show of being uninvolved with the entire messâprobably cutting her ties since the entire thing was about to, as the human idiom went, go southâshe crept behind their lines, steps carefully placed over dirt and wood so as to leave as little in the way of mark or sound as possible. Once she was behind the first of the delegation, she used the voices around her to mask her own, and stood on her toes to speak as close to the kossithâs ear as possible. âKost, Karashok.â With one of her hands, she held his together, as a signal that he should do so as well, not an attempt to bind. Her knife slid easily through the rope binding his wrists, and she pressed the hilt of it into his hands, letting go and drawing another, to repeat the process with the other three.
Amalia was almost through the last of the ropes when things got out of hand, and it was by sheer dent of bad luck that the order to kill the captives came just then, and indeed the still-bound Ashaad was the first to fall, a humanâs knife drawn across his throat before she could cut him free. That was as much a signal for battle to begin as anything, and Amaliaâs face contorted into something like a snarl for just a moment, before she tugged the chain from around her waist and swung it around the offenderâs neck, yanking backwards with enough force to bring him to the floor, the bloody knife clattering from his hand and across the dirt. This of course made her fully visible, but at that point, it was far too late to stop the battle anyway.
By this point, the other three kossith had given up the ruse, and they were not nearly so defenseless as their would-be murderers assumed, the studied strength of trained combatants easily turning aside the half-panicked fury of civilians with poor arms. Even if all they had to defend themselves with at present were knives. What had happened to the weapons theyâd been made to tie inside their sheaths was another matter, and one that no doubt would require some solving of its own, but for the moment, they needed to survive. She largely left them to their own devices on thisâshe was neither trained nor intended to fight as part of an army line, and they would not know how to accommodate her. Instead, Amalia reverted to hand-to-hand, sidestepping an incoming charge and flipping the offender over her hip in an expert toss, landing the fanatical woman flat on her back and breathless. The Qunari stomped hard on her ribcage, feeling a definite crack beneath her foot. A person unaccustomed to pain and battle would not simply get up after that, but to make sure of things, she grabbed the womanâs knife and tossed it, pinning another man to the wall by the edge of his rough leather jerkin.
Lucien, meanwhile, had stepped in front of Varnell, who in his haste had moved to kill another of the captives, and found himself on the receiving end of a righteous smite for his efforts. Setting his jaw, the chevalier swung his axe stubbornly, smashing it directly into the sword of Andraste in the manâs breastplate. The force of the blow dented it a bit, and sent the Templar reeling backwards, but the follow-up caught Varnellâs shield instead, and was deflected. The man used the opening in Lucienâs defense to catch him with his longsword, driving it up for the chevalierâs armpit, where his armor would be jointed and weaker, but Lucien drove his elbow down in enough time to catch it, forcing the sword away. Stepping into Varnellâs guard, Lucien forewent more traditional maneuvers and simply grabbed the edge of his collar, yanking down on the rim of his chestplate to force the manâs face down into his armored knee.
The blow broke the templarâs nose and split open the skin of his forehead, but heâd live, and Lucien let go, raising a foot and kicking at the dented chestplate with enough force to send Varnell into the wall about five feet to the left. Shaking his head, he was about to turn to deal with the next fanatic (in a gentler fashion) when he observed that one of the Qunari had already done it for him, smashing the pommel of a dagger into the womanâs skull. The chevalier actually wasnât sure if heâd crushed her head or simply rendered her unconscious. Perhaps, for the moment, it was better not to know.
They were misguided, stupid people, but they were mostly just irresponsible and foolish, which meant that Nostariel didnât particularly want to kill them. Perhaps ironically for a healer, her skill set wasnât really geared towards fighting without slayingâthere was no need to show mercy to a Darkspawn, after all. Still⊠sheâd do what she could. From behind the others, she started tossing ice spells, aiming to stick as many of the hostiles to walls and floors as possible, but sheâd want to stay well-away from the Templars. A smite or two, and sheâd be hurting quite badly. Her plan was effective for a while, until one of the Templars in fact took notice of what she was doing and made right for her. A mage, helping Qunari. It was probably a field day for a fanatic like this one had to be, and Nostariel did not relish the thought of how bad this was going to be.
Drawing Oathkeeper and an arrow, she charged the projectile not with elemental magic, but a misdirection hex, firing it into the middle of a throng of people including Templars and civilians alike, all of whom started swinging their weapons much more erratically than they had been before, which should hopefully help her friends out a bit. That didnât do much to help her against the woman who seemed hell-bent on reaching her, however, and Nostariel was forced to duck quickly under a swing of her two-handed blade, trying to get an ice spell off just enough to damage her opponent.
Before she could, however, she felt the characteristic mana drain of a templarâs more famed abilities. It was a bit like having all her energy sucked right out of her skin, and her knees were shaking by the time it was done. Stumbling backwards, the Warden felt her back hit the wall at about the same time as the woman raised her blade for a mighty downward cleave. Out of other options, Nostariel was forced to rely on her ability to dodge, and hoped fervently that all those strange stretches and exercises that Amalia put her through would pay off. Counting off the seconds in her head, she watched keenly for the moment the Templar was committed to her strike, then threw herself to the side, tucking into a neat little roll thatâmiraculously, reallyâtook her right back to the balls of her feet like it was supposed to. She blinked in surprise, and noted that her assailantâs sword was now partially embedded into the wall. It had worked. Imagine that!
It probably wasnât exactly the best time to be smiling, but she couldnât help herself, and when she felt a little of her mana return to her, Nostariel formed it into more frosty crystals, and used these to freeze the blade to the wall, and then the womanâs hands to the pommel as well. That ought to hold her for a while.
Her eyes closed in anticipation of what would happen next. Aurora didn't see the blade pass through the Kossith's throat, but she did see the poor man fall to the ground. She glared with venomous intent at the cause, and felt a queer moment of satisfaction when he was forced to the ground by his throat. People like these, this is what angered her the most. Blind and arrogant belief that they are indisputedly right, with no thought as the pain their selfishness caused. Whether or not that meant locking innocent men and women up in circle by mere misfortune of birth or coldly murdering someone of a different faith. Still, Aurora didn't allow the anger to well up inside, as that anger would be just as dangerous to her as their blind belief. Instead, she turned toward the things she could control. The placid mask found it's way to her face once more as she looked upon the work that needed to be done.
The civilians with weapons were the least of the problem, just sheep lead astray by a false shepherd wearing Andraste's sword. Chances were they didn't even know how to fully utilize the weapons in their hands, but it would still serve her to keep them in mind. Overconfidence could be just as deadly as any blade, and if she completely forgot about them, then she would surely be reminded with a dagger in her back. Even so, they were not the biggest threat. That were the Templars still remaining among the crowd, and not just because she was a mage. They weren't some random townsperson with a rusted dagger, they were soldiers. Organized, disciplined, and conditioned soldiers. She would need to enlist some help if they were to fall. "Sophia," She called, "We take out the Templars, we take out their backbone and the people will disperse. Help me," She asked, looking up at the woman at her side.
Sophia had never expected to hear the words "take out the Templars" from one of her allies, nor had she expected to also think it was a wise idea, but here she was, fighting alongside the same apostate yet again, and fighting none other than the Templars. What had the city come to? Aurora was right, of course. The Templars were both the most skilled and the bravest among their enemy here, and were also the adhesive holding this mob together. With them gone, the others would disperse. Hopefully. Fanaticism was a dangerous thing. When Nostariel's misdirection hex hit the group, she nodded to Aurora, knowing it to be the best time. She would have warned the woman not to try using any of her magic, but unlike when they'd met years ago, Sophia actually thought Aurora was level headed enough now to know better. She was different, that much was for sure.
There were four other Templars besides Varnell, who Lucien was currently dealing with, she could see. The Viscount's daughter moved in on the first, easily sidestepping the unnaturally wild swing from the misdirection hex and throwing a slash to the man's side. He twisted to get his shield in the way, the blow clanging heavily off the steel. She allowed the good fortune to continue her way as he attempted a lunge, the blade missing her torso by inches forced by the hex, before she allowed one hand to leave her sword, taking a hold of his wrist. His arm caught, he attempted a shield bash, but she expected this, shifting sideways and sweeping a foot under his boots, taking his feet out from under him and planting him face first in the dirt. From there, a kick to the head was enough to put him out. These men and women were misguided, not evil, and apart from that, they were Templars. Hopefully the Maker would forgive her for doing this.
The next one she found was a woman wielding dual hand axes, and she was already spattered with blood. Further ahead, Sophia could see that another of the Qunari had fallen, undoubtedly to the bite of her axes. Sophia blocked the shaft of the axe swing to her right, ducking down under the one that followed, before swiping for the midriff, but the quality Templar armor got in the way. There weren't many weak points. She attacked again, her axe strikes swift and precise. One managed to catch her in the upper left arm, but that was preferable to the neck. Maybe Aurora could help. Sophia blocked a strike and pushed in close, temporarily tying up the Templar and hopefully exposing her back by making her hold still for a second. She got a knee to the gut for her trouble, but hopefully Aurora could capitalize.
With the way Sophia marched ahead with a purpose, Aurora took it in the affirmative. While Sophia went after her first, Aurora split off a bit and faced off with one of her own. The sight of an unarmed woman half his height did nothing to strike fear into the hardened heart of the Templar. And why would it? He was a big lummox of a man, giving Lucien a fair contest in a game of size. Not only that, but the man wielded a warhammer that could crush her into a fine powder if she allowed it to hit her. Fortunately, she wasn't about to give him that chace. The hammer crashed downward where she stood moments after she darted out of the way. She could feel the drain of her mana as the smite passed by her. She'd spun to his side and found herself with a problem. He was garbed in the thick armor of the Templars, while her hands were only implements of flesh.
Fortunately, she had more than just hands on her side. Her wrist flicked and the hidden blade made its appearance. A simple glint in the fire light, Aurora struck, aiming for his hands instead of his exposed sides. She wanted to disarm and disable, not kill. Killing still sat ill with her, even if these men would kill her without a moment's hesitation. She had to prove to them, she had to prove to herself, that she was better than that. That she was far beyond the notion of petty revenge. The blade bit past his gauntlet like there was nothing there, a testament to its creator. His hand dropped from the shaft and swung outward in an attempt to backhand the flighty little girl. But Aurora was faster and more agile than the mountain of muscle could ever be. She dove under his swing, and stabbed again, catching the blade in the heel of his palm.
With both hands now free of the warhammar, it clunked clumsily to the ground. It didn't mean the Templar was defeated. Now relieved of his burden, he turned all his might on Aurora. For all of her agility and dexterity, she could not escape his might. Arms wrapped around her as she felt herself being lifted off of her feet in a bear hug. Bones threatened to snap in her body if she didn't do something fast, so she began to worm an arm free. Once it was, she shoved a hand under his helmet and threw it off. With his head now exposed she began to pummel him with her fist. It took a while but she felt the grip relax. With one final headbutt, she rode the man all the way to the ground. Not content with allowing him to get up and harass her further, she delivered two more punches to his head before pausing and delivering a third just to be sure.
Now that she was free, she stood and hunched over in pain. Aurora felt three inches thinner and she could taste her stomach in her mouth. Her ribs would kill her in the morning. But there was no time to worry about that, as Sophia seemed to have gotten tangled up with another Templar. Aurora stumbled in that direction, thankful that this one had her back toward her. This one didn't prove to be as much of a challenge as the last, as Aurora just reached up and grabbed the collar of her armor. As she yanked backward Aurora jammed a foot in the back of her knee, ensuring that the Templar toppled. With her now on her back, and Aurora hovering over, Aurora delivered a number of swift punches to the head, putting her out for the fight.
There was a moment to catch her strained breath, and enough time to give Sophia a smile before she was assaulted again. This time she found herself a victim of her own tactic as an arm reached around her throat and lifted. Aurora had been aware enough to throw up her bracer to stop a sword from slitting her throat to the spine. Still though, she felt the breath quickly leaving her lungs, so she did what she could. She gripped his arm tight with her other hand and sprang upward, bashing her head against his chin. She felt the grip free and the sword tear away. She was only on her feet for a moment as she then dropped to the ground immediately after.
The blow from the last Templar had knocked the wind out of Sophia, else she would have warned the apostate of the Templar hunter coming up behind her. They were skilled in stealth, but thankfully Aurora had managed to slip away, dropping down to let Sophia attack. She did so, pushing back to her feet and leaping over the prone form of the mage, stabbing down with her sword. The attack was parried aside, but she followed with a swift elbow to the jaw, spinning around his retaliatory strike, and finding a soft spot for her blade to cut into at the back of his knee. The slice took him down a level, and a quick pair of pommel strikes to the back of the head put out the lights.
With the Templars down, it was clear the fight was lost, and most of the rest that were still conscious seemed to come to their senses. In the end, nobody was dead save for two of the original four kossith, as they had followed her lead in checking their blows. Amalia wasnât honestly sure how she felt about that. For her, in this company, it had been a reflex, an automatic determination she hadnât even thought about. Sheâd just⊠they were only fools. They would probably die anyway, when the Arishok marched the army up the stairs of Kirkwall and took the Keep, but⊠she sighed through her nose and stepped aside to allow a fear-blind human to run past her. Glancing over at the two kossith men, she jerked her head to the side. âThe Arishok will want your reports.â she said flatly, and the one on the left nodded.
âAnd we will give them. Thank you, Ben-Hassrath. Kabethari.â He nodded shortly, a gesture which she returned, and then he and his companion departed, doubtless for the compound, though not before each moved around to a spot behind the posts theyâd been tied to and picked up a pair of weapons. One would belong to each of them, and the extra pair their fallen compatriots. They relinquished her knives back to her, and she slid these into sheaths crossed at the small of her back.
âThe Arishok will hear their words first,â she informed the rest of the party. âYou may wish to take the opportunity to inform the Viscount of this occurrence.â
Amalia was almost through the last of the ropes when things got out of hand, and it was by sheer dent of bad luck that the order to kill the captives came just then, and indeed the still-bound Ashaad was the first to fall, a humanâs knife drawn across his throat before she could cut him free. That was as much a signal for battle to begin as anything, and Amaliaâs face contorted into something like a snarl for just a moment, before she tugged the chain from around her waist and swung it around the offenderâs neck, yanking backwards with enough force to bring him to the floor, the bloody knife clattering from his hand and across the dirt. This of course made her fully visible, but at that point, it was far too late to stop the battle anyway.
By this point, the other three kossith had given up the ruse, and they were not nearly so defenseless as their would-be murderers assumed, the studied strength of trained combatants easily turning aside the half-panicked fury of civilians with poor arms. Even if all they had to defend themselves with at present were knives. What had happened to the weapons theyâd been made to tie inside their sheaths was another matter, and one that no doubt would require some solving of its own, but for the moment, they needed to survive. She largely left them to their own devices on thisâshe was neither trained nor intended to fight as part of an army line, and they would not know how to accommodate her. Instead, Amalia reverted to hand-to-hand, sidestepping an incoming charge and flipping the offender over her hip in an expert toss, landing the fanatical woman flat on her back and breathless. The Qunari stomped hard on her ribcage, feeling a definite crack beneath her foot. A person unaccustomed to pain and battle would not simply get up after that, but to make sure of things, she grabbed the womanâs knife and tossed it, pinning another man to the wall by the edge of his rough leather jerkin.
Lucien, meanwhile, had stepped in front of Varnell, who in his haste had moved to kill another of the captives, and found himself on the receiving end of a righteous smite for his efforts. Setting his jaw, the chevalier swung his axe stubbornly, smashing it directly into the sword of Andraste in the manâs breastplate. The force of the blow dented it a bit, and sent the Templar reeling backwards, but the follow-up caught Varnellâs shield instead, and was deflected. The man used the opening in Lucienâs defense to catch him with his longsword, driving it up for the chevalierâs armpit, where his armor would be jointed and weaker, but Lucien drove his elbow down in enough time to catch it, forcing the sword away. Stepping into Varnellâs guard, Lucien forewent more traditional maneuvers and simply grabbed the edge of his collar, yanking down on the rim of his chestplate to force the manâs face down into his armored knee.
The blow broke the templarâs nose and split open the skin of his forehead, but heâd live, and Lucien let go, raising a foot and kicking at the dented chestplate with enough force to send Varnell into the wall about five feet to the left. Shaking his head, he was about to turn to deal with the next fanatic (in a gentler fashion) when he observed that one of the Qunari had already done it for him, smashing the pommel of a dagger into the womanâs skull. The chevalier actually wasnât sure if heâd crushed her head or simply rendered her unconscious. Perhaps, for the moment, it was better not to know.
They were misguided, stupid people, but they were mostly just irresponsible and foolish, which meant that Nostariel didnât particularly want to kill them. Perhaps ironically for a healer, her skill set wasnât really geared towards fighting without slayingâthere was no need to show mercy to a Darkspawn, after all. Still⊠sheâd do what she could. From behind the others, she started tossing ice spells, aiming to stick as many of the hostiles to walls and floors as possible, but sheâd want to stay well-away from the Templars. A smite or two, and sheâd be hurting quite badly. Her plan was effective for a while, until one of the Templars in fact took notice of what she was doing and made right for her. A mage, helping Qunari. It was probably a field day for a fanatic like this one had to be, and Nostariel did not relish the thought of how bad this was going to be.
Drawing Oathkeeper and an arrow, she charged the projectile not with elemental magic, but a misdirection hex, firing it into the middle of a throng of people including Templars and civilians alike, all of whom started swinging their weapons much more erratically than they had been before, which should hopefully help her friends out a bit. That didnât do much to help her against the woman who seemed hell-bent on reaching her, however, and Nostariel was forced to duck quickly under a swing of her two-handed blade, trying to get an ice spell off just enough to damage her opponent.
Before she could, however, she felt the characteristic mana drain of a templarâs more famed abilities. It was a bit like having all her energy sucked right out of her skin, and her knees were shaking by the time it was done. Stumbling backwards, the Warden felt her back hit the wall at about the same time as the woman raised her blade for a mighty downward cleave. Out of other options, Nostariel was forced to rely on her ability to dodge, and hoped fervently that all those strange stretches and exercises that Amalia put her through would pay off. Counting off the seconds in her head, she watched keenly for the moment the Templar was committed to her strike, then threw herself to the side, tucking into a neat little roll thatâmiraculously, reallyâtook her right back to the balls of her feet like it was supposed to. She blinked in surprise, and noted that her assailantâs sword was now partially embedded into the wall. It had worked. Imagine that!
It probably wasnât exactly the best time to be smiling, but she couldnât help herself, and when she felt a little of her mana return to her, Nostariel formed it into more frosty crystals, and used these to freeze the blade to the wall, and then the womanâs hands to the pommel as well. That ought to hold her for a while.
Her eyes closed in anticipation of what would happen next. Aurora didn't see the blade pass through the Kossith's throat, but she did see the poor man fall to the ground. She glared with venomous intent at the cause, and felt a queer moment of satisfaction when he was forced to the ground by his throat. People like these, this is what angered her the most. Blind and arrogant belief that they are indisputedly right, with no thought as the pain their selfishness caused. Whether or not that meant locking innocent men and women up in circle by mere misfortune of birth or coldly murdering someone of a different faith. Still, Aurora didn't allow the anger to well up inside, as that anger would be just as dangerous to her as their blind belief. Instead, she turned toward the things she could control. The placid mask found it's way to her face once more as she looked upon the work that needed to be done.
The civilians with weapons were the least of the problem, just sheep lead astray by a false shepherd wearing Andraste's sword. Chances were they didn't even know how to fully utilize the weapons in their hands, but it would still serve her to keep them in mind. Overconfidence could be just as deadly as any blade, and if she completely forgot about them, then she would surely be reminded with a dagger in her back. Even so, they were not the biggest threat. That were the Templars still remaining among the crowd, and not just because she was a mage. They weren't some random townsperson with a rusted dagger, they were soldiers. Organized, disciplined, and conditioned soldiers. She would need to enlist some help if they were to fall. "Sophia," She called, "We take out the Templars, we take out their backbone and the people will disperse. Help me," She asked, looking up at the woman at her side.
Sophia had never expected to hear the words "take out the Templars" from one of her allies, nor had she expected to also think it was a wise idea, but here she was, fighting alongside the same apostate yet again, and fighting none other than the Templars. What had the city come to? Aurora was right, of course. The Templars were both the most skilled and the bravest among their enemy here, and were also the adhesive holding this mob together. With them gone, the others would disperse. Hopefully. Fanaticism was a dangerous thing. When Nostariel's misdirection hex hit the group, she nodded to Aurora, knowing it to be the best time. She would have warned the woman not to try using any of her magic, but unlike when they'd met years ago, Sophia actually thought Aurora was level headed enough now to know better. She was different, that much was for sure.
There were four other Templars besides Varnell, who Lucien was currently dealing with, she could see. The Viscount's daughter moved in on the first, easily sidestepping the unnaturally wild swing from the misdirection hex and throwing a slash to the man's side. He twisted to get his shield in the way, the blow clanging heavily off the steel. She allowed the good fortune to continue her way as he attempted a lunge, the blade missing her torso by inches forced by the hex, before she allowed one hand to leave her sword, taking a hold of his wrist. His arm caught, he attempted a shield bash, but she expected this, shifting sideways and sweeping a foot under his boots, taking his feet out from under him and planting him face first in the dirt. From there, a kick to the head was enough to put him out. These men and women were misguided, not evil, and apart from that, they were Templars. Hopefully the Maker would forgive her for doing this.
The next one she found was a woman wielding dual hand axes, and she was already spattered with blood. Further ahead, Sophia could see that another of the Qunari had fallen, undoubtedly to the bite of her axes. Sophia blocked the shaft of the axe swing to her right, ducking down under the one that followed, before swiping for the midriff, but the quality Templar armor got in the way. There weren't many weak points. She attacked again, her axe strikes swift and precise. One managed to catch her in the upper left arm, but that was preferable to the neck. Maybe Aurora could help. Sophia blocked a strike and pushed in close, temporarily tying up the Templar and hopefully exposing her back by making her hold still for a second. She got a knee to the gut for her trouble, but hopefully Aurora could capitalize.
With the way Sophia marched ahead with a purpose, Aurora took it in the affirmative. While Sophia went after her first, Aurora split off a bit and faced off with one of her own. The sight of an unarmed woman half his height did nothing to strike fear into the hardened heart of the Templar. And why would it? He was a big lummox of a man, giving Lucien a fair contest in a game of size. Not only that, but the man wielded a warhammer that could crush her into a fine powder if she allowed it to hit her. Fortunately, she wasn't about to give him that chace. The hammer crashed downward where she stood moments after she darted out of the way. She could feel the drain of her mana as the smite passed by her. She'd spun to his side and found herself with a problem. He was garbed in the thick armor of the Templars, while her hands were only implements of flesh.
Fortunately, she had more than just hands on her side. Her wrist flicked and the hidden blade made its appearance. A simple glint in the fire light, Aurora struck, aiming for his hands instead of his exposed sides. She wanted to disarm and disable, not kill. Killing still sat ill with her, even if these men would kill her without a moment's hesitation. She had to prove to them, she had to prove to herself, that she was better than that. That she was far beyond the notion of petty revenge. The blade bit past his gauntlet like there was nothing there, a testament to its creator. His hand dropped from the shaft and swung outward in an attempt to backhand the flighty little girl. But Aurora was faster and more agile than the mountain of muscle could ever be. She dove under his swing, and stabbed again, catching the blade in the heel of his palm.
With both hands now free of the warhammar, it clunked clumsily to the ground. It didn't mean the Templar was defeated. Now relieved of his burden, he turned all his might on Aurora. For all of her agility and dexterity, she could not escape his might. Arms wrapped around her as she felt herself being lifted off of her feet in a bear hug. Bones threatened to snap in her body if she didn't do something fast, so she began to worm an arm free. Once it was, she shoved a hand under his helmet and threw it off. With his head now exposed she began to pummel him with her fist. It took a while but she felt the grip relax. With one final headbutt, she rode the man all the way to the ground. Not content with allowing him to get up and harass her further, she delivered two more punches to his head before pausing and delivering a third just to be sure.
Now that she was free, she stood and hunched over in pain. Aurora felt three inches thinner and she could taste her stomach in her mouth. Her ribs would kill her in the morning. But there was no time to worry about that, as Sophia seemed to have gotten tangled up with another Templar. Aurora stumbled in that direction, thankful that this one had her back toward her. This one didn't prove to be as much of a challenge as the last, as Aurora just reached up and grabbed the collar of her armor. As she yanked backward Aurora jammed a foot in the back of her knee, ensuring that the Templar toppled. With her now on her back, and Aurora hovering over, Aurora delivered a number of swift punches to the head, putting her out for the fight.
There was a moment to catch her strained breath, and enough time to give Sophia a smile before she was assaulted again. This time she found herself a victim of her own tactic as an arm reached around her throat and lifted. Aurora had been aware enough to throw up her bracer to stop a sword from slitting her throat to the spine. Still though, she felt the breath quickly leaving her lungs, so she did what she could. She gripped his arm tight with her other hand and sprang upward, bashing her head against his chin. She felt the grip free and the sword tear away. She was only on her feet for a moment as she then dropped to the ground immediately after.
The blow from the last Templar had knocked the wind out of Sophia, else she would have warned the apostate of the Templar hunter coming up behind her. They were skilled in stealth, but thankfully Aurora had managed to slip away, dropping down to let Sophia attack. She did so, pushing back to her feet and leaping over the prone form of the mage, stabbing down with her sword. The attack was parried aside, but she followed with a swift elbow to the jaw, spinning around his retaliatory strike, and finding a soft spot for her blade to cut into at the back of his knee. The slice took him down a level, and a quick pair of pommel strikes to the back of the head put out the lights.
With the Templars down, it was clear the fight was lost, and most of the rest that were still conscious seemed to come to their senses. In the end, nobody was dead save for two of the original four kossith, as they had followed her lead in checking their blows. Amalia wasnât honestly sure how she felt about that. For her, in this company, it had been a reflex, an automatic determination she hadnât even thought about. Sheâd just⊠they were only fools. They would probably die anyway, when the Arishok marched the army up the stairs of Kirkwall and took the Keep, but⊠she sighed through her nose and stepped aside to allow a fear-blind human to run past her. Glancing over at the two kossith men, she jerked her head to the side. âThe Arishok will want your reports.â she said flatly, and the one on the left nodded.
âAnd we will give them. Thank you, Ben-Hassrath. Kabethari.â He nodded shortly, a gesture which she returned, and then he and his companion departed, doubtless for the compound, though not before each moved around to a spot behind the posts theyâd been tied to and picked up a pair of weapons. One would belong to each of them, and the extra pair their fallen compatriots. They relinquished her knives back to her, and she slid these into sheaths crossed at the small of her back.
âThe Arishok will hear their words first,â she informed the rest of the party. âYou may wish to take the opportunity to inform the Viscount of this occurrence.â