The Templars did not announce when Meredith's patience ran out. They advanced with helmets down and swords drawn, a few lookouts of the mages calling out their arrival. There was only one way in or out of the Circle tower, and the Templars were funneled through, allowed into the long walkway leading into the center courtyard. The mage forces were very light on close quarters fighters, having only their few allies to rely upon, but they had a great deal of long range firepower.
They put it to work on the doorway, showering it with fire, ice, lightning, stone, entropic spells, everything they could throw at the Templars. Even knowing this would hit them, they had difficulty advancing, and for a moment it appeared as though Orsino's mages would hold them back. It was not to last, however. Some of the Templars were able to cast spell-like abilities of their own, causing the harmful magic to wash over them like so much water. They began to break through and rush forward, engaging the group in hand to hand. The mages, unwilling to risk hurting their allies, had to continue focusing their fire on the Templars further back, the ones still trying to advance.
This was not a problem at first for the nine that stood in the forefront. Faced with even numbers or even a slight disadvantage, they were easily able to hold their own, and deal with the Templars that came forward. The mages, however, tired more quickly than they, and couldn't keep up the brutal barrage on the doorway, while fresh Templars with magic resistant armor were able to slip through more easily. A number of them chose to bypass the deadliest defenders in front of them in an effort to reach the more vulnerable and untrained mages.
Steadily the fight descended into chaos, all order of battle lines fallen to pieces. The entire floor had become more red than slate grey as it was covered with blood. Sophia found herself losing track of the others more and more each time she felt compelled to break off and prevent the death of a mage, some person who had not seen beyond these walls for a decade or more, probably. She had only minor injuries to deal with herself, but the Templars seemed endless. They couldn't keep it up forever.
A powerful shockwave then emanated from the center of the room, where Orsino stood, his left arm dripping blood from a neat cut across it. A bloodied knife was in his hand. The force of the wave hit everyone around, mage and Templar, strongly enough to make even the sturdiest person lose balance, and it created a lull in the fight, most of the eyes in the room turning to the First Enchanter. The look in the elf's eyes was wild, distraught. Enough to make Sophia wonder if he had ever been in real battle before tonight.
"I refuse to keep going like this!" he cried. "I won't allow you to kill me!"
Sophia was in the process of getting back to her feet. "No, you can't give up."
"I am not giving up. I am giving in. There is no other way." Templars around him began to close in again, prompting Orsino to slash his arm, drawing a dangerous amount of fresh blood. "Meredith expects blood magic? Then I will give it to her. Maker help us all."
Yellow light and floating blood began to swirl around him, as the freshly fallen corpses began to rise up into the air, limp and dripping blood. He surrounded himself with them, the hands and legs wrapping around his small body, clutching him, covering him in red. Soon he could not be seen at all under the corpses, and the yellow light became too bright to continue looking at. Only the sound remained, that of bodies being molded together, muscle being mutated to form into one larger whole, one larger being.
When the light faded, Orsino was gone, replaced by a massive creature born of his blood magic. It was a hideous monstrosity of flesh and muscle, at least fifteen feet tall, and powerful enough to swipe away the first three Templars that approached, sending them flying across the courtyard. Faces of the dead could still be seen molded into the sides of the thing, ribcages and hip bones. The face, or head, of the thing was a great melting pot of eyes, arms of varying sizes, and one gaping hole of a mouth, which breathed out heavily.
For a moment, Sophia could only look at it in horror, shocked that Orsino had been capable of such a thing.
And then it was all of a sudden as though time moved normally again, and the hideous thing that the First Enchanter had been swung for another Templar, making contact and flinging him across the courtyard. Nostariel, reeling but quickly clamping down on her instinctive revulsion, recognized that this creature was the larger threat, and shot a blast of ice forward, encasing the flesh-mound that served it as forelimb, locking the elbow in place. Unfortunately, she didn’t also get the shoulder, and it took to swinging that part of its body like a club, more clumsily than before but with just as much force, and another two armored figures crumpled under the assault.
She wasn’t sure exactly to what extent Orsino was still in control of whatever corpse amalgamation this was, but her question was answered near enough when it turned its attention towards her, bellowing like any abomination that has become angered. Nostariel backed up, her eyes never leaving it. If it was going to charge, she needed to know which way to dive.
With bugling dragons, blood-weaving mages, and enough selfish mercenaries to last a lifetime, Sparrow had promised herself that she would stop being so surprised when another round of baddies decided to emerge from the shadows. And yet, now, turning around to encounter another monstrosity, who'd once been their ally, with far too many faces and limbs pressed together like the ugliest piece of art she'd ever had the misfortune to lay her eyes on... and the gurgling roar of battle died in her throat. She, too, felt like time slowed around her, as if she stopped entirely, mace dipping low: sluggish as molasses. Everyone turned to witness Orsino's transformation and what little coherence there was shuddered apart when the creature howled and swung Templars across the bloodied, gray-slate battleground.
She exhaled, finally, and gripped tighter on her mace: white-knuckles, speckled with red. No time to discuss what had just happened. She doubted anyone really knew. If this was anything like giving yourself to the Fade, and allowing yourself to become an abomination, there wasn't anything they could do. The monstrosity turned towards Nostariel, and offered his back to her, stomping on any Templar foolish enough to raise its blade against it. Energy flushed through her forearms, crackled electricity down the flanged edges of her mace, as she began her slow trek towards its fleshy hips. It wasn't charging yet, but she could see it lean forward, twitching. Readying itself. Her gaze slid in front of it, and it took her a moment to realize that one of the living-bodies cowering in front of the creature was not covered in metal—was not a Templar. A mage. Inexperienced, terrified. Standing in a puddle of piss.
She hissed a curse, abandoned her position and barely managed to hurtle in front of it, grabbing a handful of his robes and jerking him in the opposite direction. They both tumbled backwards in a tangled heap, a few paces away from the creature's shivering legs. “Get up, get up, get up,” she shrieked, bundling him back to his feet and scrambling further away.
Orsino, or rather, the fleshy abomination that had once been Orsino, began to lumber toward Sparrow and the mage. Its mangled maw hung agape with sharp jagged teeth protruding from the cavity. It roared, dousing them with spittle as it dropped low to begin its charge. It was into the secord or third step of its charge when its trajectory suddenly and violently shifted by a massive boulder of stone, dropping to the ground and sliding away from Sparrow and the mage. Over toward the side, the floor was missing its cobblestones in a perfect circle with Aurora standing in the midde, the fade wafting off the staff she held in the air.
The color was drained from Aurora's face, and though her eyes were set deep, they did not betray her emotions. Even so, it was clear everything that was happening was taking a toll. "Get him out of here!" she demanded of Sparrow. Aurora then pressed her initiative, alternating between fireballs and stonefist with every step forward as the abomination tried to rise to its feet.
Sparrow and the hapless mage stared into Orsino's crooked mouth, drool flicking onto their faces as it threw its head back and roared. Death did not strike fear into her belly—not like it should, but seeing that abomination rear back and stomp towards them made her freeze in place, hand on the mages quivering elbow. Quick as she could blink, Orsino was staggering away from them, pieces of cobblestone clattering around them like rain.
It was Aurora's voice, cutting through the clamor or noise, that got Sparrow moving again. Her grip tightened on his elbow, and she directed him in the opposite direction. The mage stumbled in front of her, relieved to be going somewhere other than in front of Orsino's rampaging path. Her mace dragged behind her, white-knuckles tingling with numbness. She would need to get back in the fight. Sweat trickled down her forehead and dripped off her chin. They would need everything to take this thing down, and still deal with Meredith. She found a small nook by the further wall where the mage could huddle into. Not a woman for soft words, she simply patted his shoulder and turned back towards Orsino, mace hefted back into both hands.
She was not the only one taking advantage of its momentary vulnerability, however, and the abomination shrieked when two long daggers buried themselves in the mounds of flesh covering its back. Amalia twisted her knives, ripping them out with as much extra damage as possible, then darted off to the side before the free arm it swung in retaliation could hit her. A wound bled freely from near her hairline, a smear clear evidence that she’d wiped it away to prevent visual impairment. There was another one on her lip, already clotting slightly, but she appeared to be still in fighting shape, considering.
Unfortunately, even when the situation with Orsino’s magic asserted itself as the greatest threat to everyone’s continued survival, the oncoming wave of Templars did not abate. Many of those trying to push forward were too far back or outside to see what was going on within, and with many of the defenders distracted by the abomination, their already-tenuous control of the entrance itself was weakening.
Lucien didn’t like splitting groups, but it seemed a necessary measure here. “Cor, Estella, Farah! Hold this line! Keep the mages focused, and stay alive!” It would not be an easy order to follow, and he knew that, but it was all the more necessary for that. He also knew that it was equally necessary for him to turn his attention to the monster in their midst, lest it destroy them all from behind, and one-by-one, taking advantage of their inability to commit to one task or another.
“Rilien!” He glanced around until he located his friend, then nodded. They knew how to work together, and it seemed that now was as good a time as any to see just how far that could take them.
Lucien would be heading into the very thick of the fight; Rilien had no doubt of that. He had no objections to wading in that close himself, and so when Lucien moved forward, the bard moved with him, careful to stay out of the way of the dense cover fire Aurora was providing, as well as leaving plenty of room for the skirmishers among them to move in and out as they needed to stay alive.
Everburn made a deep cutting noise as Lucien swung it through the air, and Rilien ducked under the elbow on his off-side, covering a potential weakness and concealing himself until the last moment at the same time, dragging his knives along the abomination’s exposed flesh as he broke off from his spot in the mercenary’s shadow.
While the others turned their focus inward, the Lions were left to try and lead the mages in keeping the other Templars back from the gate. It wouldn’t be easy, and there was no guarantee that the Circle types would even want to follow their lead, but Cor knew some would be a little more willing, and able, for that matter.
“They’re low on juice; what should we do?” He directed the question at Estella specifically. It was, more or less, the first time he’d made open acknowledgement of the fact that she was a mage, but to her credit, she answered without missing a beat.
“We have to volley the fire. Split them into four groups, two on each side, sandwich the Templars in the middle. As soon as one volley’s done, the next one needs to line up and prepare to fire.”
“And the time in between?”
She grimaced, and he knew what that meant. “That’s all us.”
Their plan, basic as it was, in place, they split up to organize as well as possible. Cor went to talk to the clusters of mages who looked more experienced with this kind of thing, for their help in organizing the rest, Estella set about forming the groups as well as she could while combat still raged around them, and Farah climbed up onto a rampart bordering the courtyard, prepared to call for volley changes and add her own arrows into the fray. The frenetic panic of the remaining mages translated into quick assembly, though the lines would be shaky at best, and Farah would have to maintain tight control of them with little more than her voice.
“Fire!”
The first half of the mages, split to border the incoming column of Templars, fired. Several went wide or high, but those that hit did so more effectively than from the front, largely because it was harder for the Templars to use their shields. With the onrush softened, the Lions and a few of the less amateur fighters in the Circle ranks moved in, skirmishing just long enough for the next volley to line up. It wasn’t perfect, and heavy Templar weapons had scored a deep slash in Estella’s side by the end of the first exchange, but they were holding on with their fingertips, and as long as they could keep it up, it would suffice.
Ithilian arrived to shore up their defense, believing his blades better put to use keeping the Templars at bay than hacking at the flesh of a monstrosity. There were enough monster slayers at work, besides. The elf's attacks, when they were needed, were more to keep the enemy back than anything. Templars were difficult to kill swiftly, well defended as they were, and so it was often a hard kick to the chest or shield that was necessary, to send them stumbling back, unable to advance before another barrage of magefire came in.
Soon enough, the flow of Templars into the building was halted, as the great doors behind them were pulled shut. Those on the outside had clearly been given the order to seal the rest inside, with the great and terrible being that Orsino had warped himself into.
Sophia targeted the legs of the thing, mostly, backing away as the others did when she chanced to draw its wrath. By the time the abomination was beginning to seem worn down, all of them were battered, bloody, and bruised. The mages were few in number, those that still had the energy to cast spells fewer still. It was fortunate, then, that Sophia was able to strike a crippling blow, driving her sword entirely through the leg of the beast behind the knee.
It was forced down, taking Sophia halfway down with it, at least until she could withdraw her sword. It made a backhanded swing for her, whooshing with heavy momentum over her head as she ducked under it and dashed in front of the creature. The head region, as approximate as that was, was in reach, and Sophia didn't hesitate to make another plunging stab, sending a torrent of dark blood raining down beside her.
The abomination moaned woefully, reaching back with its unnaturally elongated arm and striking Sophia where she stood. The thing's fist was able to impact almost the entire left side of her body, sending her tumbling back. She refused to relinquish her blade, however, and with it came the entire head body of the abomination, perhaps the mutated form of what had formerly been Orsino, before he molded the corpses of the fallen around him.
The massive corpse form fell with a titanic thud onto its back, while the head screamed and wailed, little frail arms grasping at the blade embedded into it. Sophia found herself unable to rise, merely rolling onto her side and hanging onto the hilt, at least until a Dalish blade plunged in between two of the protruding vertebrae of the wretched creature. It gurgled a final breath, and then became still.
What Templars had been trapped inside had fallen, leaving the Circle tower silent once more, now with the heavy stench of death lingering over it. Ithilian pulled his blade free of Orsino and wiped it clean. Sheathing it, he extended a hand down to Sophia, and helped her back to her feet.
"The Templars have... pulled back," Sophia noted, pulling Vesenia free with considerable effort. She planted the tip of the blade into the ground and leaned upon it for support. "We should take a moment to recover."
"And then?" Ithilian asked.
"Then we must see if the Templars will have words. There are hundreds more out there. At this point, it's that or death."
They put it to work on the doorway, showering it with fire, ice, lightning, stone, entropic spells, everything they could throw at the Templars. Even knowing this would hit them, they had difficulty advancing, and for a moment it appeared as though Orsino's mages would hold them back. It was not to last, however. Some of the Templars were able to cast spell-like abilities of their own, causing the harmful magic to wash over them like so much water. They began to break through and rush forward, engaging the group in hand to hand. The mages, unwilling to risk hurting their allies, had to continue focusing their fire on the Templars further back, the ones still trying to advance.
This was not a problem at first for the nine that stood in the forefront. Faced with even numbers or even a slight disadvantage, they were easily able to hold their own, and deal with the Templars that came forward. The mages, however, tired more quickly than they, and couldn't keep up the brutal barrage on the doorway, while fresh Templars with magic resistant armor were able to slip through more easily. A number of them chose to bypass the deadliest defenders in front of them in an effort to reach the more vulnerable and untrained mages.
Steadily the fight descended into chaos, all order of battle lines fallen to pieces. The entire floor had become more red than slate grey as it was covered with blood. Sophia found herself losing track of the others more and more each time she felt compelled to break off and prevent the death of a mage, some person who had not seen beyond these walls for a decade or more, probably. She had only minor injuries to deal with herself, but the Templars seemed endless. They couldn't keep it up forever.
A powerful shockwave then emanated from the center of the room, where Orsino stood, his left arm dripping blood from a neat cut across it. A bloodied knife was in his hand. The force of the wave hit everyone around, mage and Templar, strongly enough to make even the sturdiest person lose balance, and it created a lull in the fight, most of the eyes in the room turning to the First Enchanter. The look in the elf's eyes was wild, distraught. Enough to make Sophia wonder if he had ever been in real battle before tonight.
"I refuse to keep going like this!" he cried. "I won't allow you to kill me!"
Sophia was in the process of getting back to her feet. "No, you can't give up."
"I am not giving up. I am giving in. There is no other way." Templars around him began to close in again, prompting Orsino to slash his arm, drawing a dangerous amount of fresh blood. "Meredith expects blood magic? Then I will give it to her. Maker help us all."
Yellow light and floating blood began to swirl around him, as the freshly fallen corpses began to rise up into the air, limp and dripping blood. He surrounded himself with them, the hands and legs wrapping around his small body, clutching him, covering him in red. Soon he could not be seen at all under the corpses, and the yellow light became too bright to continue looking at. Only the sound remained, that of bodies being molded together, muscle being mutated to form into one larger whole, one larger being.
When the light faded, Orsino was gone, replaced by a massive creature born of his blood magic. It was a hideous monstrosity of flesh and muscle, at least fifteen feet tall, and powerful enough to swipe away the first three Templars that approached, sending them flying across the courtyard. Faces of the dead could still be seen molded into the sides of the thing, ribcages and hip bones. The face, or head, of the thing was a great melting pot of eyes, arms of varying sizes, and one gaping hole of a mouth, which breathed out heavily.
For a moment, Sophia could only look at it in horror, shocked that Orsino had been capable of such a thing.
And then it was all of a sudden as though time moved normally again, and the hideous thing that the First Enchanter had been swung for another Templar, making contact and flinging him across the courtyard. Nostariel, reeling but quickly clamping down on her instinctive revulsion, recognized that this creature was the larger threat, and shot a blast of ice forward, encasing the flesh-mound that served it as forelimb, locking the elbow in place. Unfortunately, she didn’t also get the shoulder, and it took to swinging that part of its body like a club, more clumsily than before but with just as much force, and another two armored figures crumpled under the assault.
She wasn’t sure exactly to what extent Orsino was still in control of whatever corpse amalgamation this was, but her question was answered near enough when it turned its attention towards her, bellowing like any abomination that has become angered. Nostariel backed up, her eyes never leaving it. If it was going to charge, she needed to know which way to dive.
With bugling dragons, blood-weaving mages, and enough selfish mercenaries to last a lifetime, Sparrow had promised herself that she would stop being so surprised when another round of baddies decided to emerge from the shadows. And yet, now, turning around to encounter another monstrosity, who'd once been their ally, with far too many faces and limbs pressed together like the ugliest piece of art she'd ever had the misfortune to lay her eyes on... and the gurgling roar of battle died in her throat. She, too, felt like time slowed around her, as if she stopped entirely, mace dipping low: sluggish as molasses. Everyone turned to witness Orsino's transformation and what little coherence there was shuddered apart when the creature howled and swung Templars across the bloodied, gray-slate battleground.
She exhaled, finally, and gripped tighter on her mace: white-knuckles, speckled with red. No time to discuss what had just happened. She doubted anyone really knew. If this was anything like giving yourself to the Fade, and allowing yourself to become an abomination, there wasn't anything they could do. The monstrosity turned towards Nostariel, and offered his back to her, stomping on any Templar foolish enough to raise its blade against it. Energy flushed through her forearms, crackled electricity down the flanged edges of her mace, as she began her slow trek towards its fleshy hips. It wasn't charging yet, but she could see it lean forward, twitching. Readying itself. Her gaze slid in front of it, and it took her a moment to realize that one of the living-bodies cowering in front of the creature was not covered in metal—was not a Templar. A mage. Inexperienced, terrified. Standing in a puddle of piss.
She hissed a curse, abandoned her position and barely managed to hurtle in front of it, grabbing a handful of his robes and jerking him in the opposite direction. They both tumbled backwards in a tangled heap, a few paces away from the creature's shivering legs. “Get up, get up, get up,” she shrieked, bundling him back to his feet and scrambling further away.
Orsino, or rather, the fleshy abomination that had once been Orsino, began to lumber toward Sparrow and the mage. Its mangled maw hung agape with sharp jagged teeth protruding from the cavity. It roared, dousing them with spittle as it dropped low to begin its charge. It was into the secord or third step of its charge when its trajectory suddenly and violently shifted by a massive boulder of stone, dropping to the ground and sliding away from Sparrow and the mage. Over toward the side, the floor was missing its cobblestones in a perfect circle with Aurora standing in the midde, the fade wafting off the staff she held in the air.
The color was drained from Aurora's face, and though her eyes were set deep, they did not betray her emotions. Even so, it was clear everything that was happening was taking a toll. "Get him out of here!" she demanded of Sparrow. Aurora then pressed her initiative, alternating between fireballs and stonefist with every step forward as the abomination tried to rise to its feet.
Sparrow and the hapless mage stared into Orsino's crooked mouth, drool flicking onto their faces as it threw its head back and roared. Death did not strike fear into her belly—not like it should, but seeing that abomination rear back and stomp towards them made her freeze in place, hand on the mages quivering elbow. Quick as she could blink, Orsino was staggering away from them, pieces of cobblestone clattering around them like rain.
It was Aurora's voice, cutting through the clamor or noise, that got Sparrow moving again. Her grip tightened on his elbow, and she directed him in the opposite direction. The mage stumbled in front of her, relieved to be going somewhere other than in front of Orsino's rampaging path. Her mace dragged behind her, white-knuckles tingling with numbness. She would need to get back in the fight. Sweat trickled down her forehead and dripped off her chin. They would need everything to take this thing down, and still deal with Meredith. She found a small nook by the further wall where the mage could huddle into. Not a woman for soft words, she simply patted his shoulder and turned back towards Orsino, mace hefted back into both hands.
She was not the only one taking advantage of its momentary vulnerability, however, and the abomination shrieked when two long daggers buried themselves in the mounds of flesh covering its back. Amalia twisted her knives, ripping them out with as much extra damage as possible, then darted off to the side before the free arm it swung in retaliation could hit her. A wound bled freely from near her hairline, a smear clear evidence that she’d wiped it away to prevent visual impairment. There was another one on her lip, already clotting slightly, but she appeared to be still in fighting shape, considering.
Unfortunately, even when the situation with Orsino’s magic asserted itself as the greatest threat to everyone’s continued survival, the oncoming wave of Templars did not abate. Many of those trying to push forward were too far back or outside to see what was going on within, and with many of the defenders distracted by the abomination, their already-tenuous control of the entrance itself was weakening.
Lucien didn’t like splitting groups, but it seemed a necessary measure here. “Cor, Estella, Farah! Hold this line! Keep the mages focused, and stay alive!” It would not be an easy order to follow, and he knew that, but it was all the more necessary for that. He also knew that it was equally necessary for him to turn his attention to the monster in their midst, lest it destroy them all from behind, and one-by-one, taking advantage of their inability to commit to one task or another.
“Rilien!” He glanced around until he located his friend, then nodded. They knew how to work together, and it seemed that now was as good a time as any to see just how far that could take them.
Lucien would be heading into the very thick of the fight; Rilien had no doubt of that. He had no objections to wading in that close himself, and so when Lucien moved forward, the bard moved with him, careful to stay out of the way of the dense cover fire Aurora was providing, as well as leaving plenty of room for the skirmishers among them to move in and out as they needed to stay alive.
Everburn made a deep cutting noise as Lucien swung it through the air, and Rilien ducked under the elbow on his off-side, covering a potential weakness and concealing himself until the last moment at the same time, dragging his knives along the abomination’s exposed flesh as he broke off from his spot in the mercenary’s shadow.
While the others turned their focus inward, the Lions were left to try and lead the mages in keeping the other Templars back from the gate. It wouldn’t be easy, and there was no guarantee that the Circle types would even want to follow their lead, but Cor knew some would be a little more willing, and able, for that matter.
“They’re low on juice; what should we do?” He directed the question at Estella specifically. It was, more or less, the first time he’d made open acknowledgement of the fact that she was a mage, but to her credit, she answered without missing a beat.
“We have to volley the fire. Split them into four groups, two on each side, sandwich the Templars in the middle. As soon as one volley’s done, the next one needs to line up and prepare to fire.”
“And the time in between?”
She grimaced, and he knew what that meant. “That’s all us.”
Their plan, basic as it was, in place, they split up to organize as well as possible. Cor went to talk to the clusters of mages who looked more experienced with this kind of thing, for their help in organizing the rest, Estella set about forming the groups as well as she could while combat still raged around them, and Farah climbed up onto a rampart bordering the courtyard, prepared to call for volley changes and add her own arrows into the fray. The frenetic panic of the remaining mages translated into quick assembly, though the lines would be shaky at best, and Farah would have to maintain tight control of them with little more than her voice.
“Fire!”
The first half of the mages, split to border the incoming column of Templars, fired. Several went wide or high, but those that hit did so more effectively than from the front, largely because it was harder for the Templars to use their shields. With the onrush softened, the Lions and a few of the less amateur fighters in the Circle ranks moved in, skirmishing just long enough for the next volley to line up. It wasn’t perfect, and heavy Templar weapons had scored a deep slash in Estella’s side by the end of the first exchange, but they were holding on with their fingertips, and as long as they could keep it up, it would suffice.
Ithilian arrived to shore up their defense, believing his blades better put to use keeping the Templars at bay than hacking at the flesh of a monstrosity. There were enough monster slayers at work, besides. The elf's attacks, when they were needed, were more to keep the enemy back than anything. Templars were difficult to kill swiftly, well defended as they were, and so it was often a hard kick to the chest or shield that was necessary, to send them stumbling back, unable to advance before another barrage of magefire came in.
Soon enough, the flow of Templars into the building was halted, as the great doors behind them were pulled shut. Those on the outside had clearly been given the order to seal the rest inside, with the great and terrible being that Orsino had warped himself into.
Sophia targeted the legs of the thing, mostly, backing away as the others did when she chanced to draw its wrath. By the time the abomination was beginning to seem worn down, all of them were battered, bloody, and bruised. The mages were few in number, those that still had the energy to cast spells fewer still. It was fortunate, then, that Sophia was able to strike a crippling blow, driving her sword entirely through the leg of the beast behind the knee.
It was forced down, taking Sophia halfway down with it, at least until she could withdraw her sword. It made a backhanded swing for her, whooshing with heavy momentum over her head as she ducked under it and dashed in front of the creature. The head region, as approximate as that was, was in reach, and Sophia didn't hesitate to make another plunging stab, sending a torrent of dark blood raining down beside her.
The abomination moaned woefully, reaching back with its unnaturally elongated arm and striking Sophia where she stood. The thing's fist was able to impact almost the entire left side of her body, sending her tumbling back. She refused to relinquish her blade, however, and with it came the entire head body of the abomination, perhaps the mutated form of what had formerly been Orsino, before he molded the corpses of the fallen around him.
The massive corpse form fell with a titanic thud onto its back, while the head screamed and wailed, little frail arms grasping at the blade embedded into it. Sophia found herself unable to rise, merely rolling onto her side and hanging onto the hilt, at least until a Dalish blade plunged in between two of the protruding vertebrae of the wretched creature. It gurgled a final breath, and then became still.
What Templars had been trapped inside had fallen, leaving the Circle tower silent once more, now with the heavy stench of death lingering over it. Ithilian pulled his blade free of Orsino and wiped it clean. Sheathing it, he extended a hand down to Sophia, and helped her back to her feet.
"The Templars have... pulled back," Sophia noted, pulling Vesenia free with considerable effort. She planted the tip of the blade into the ground and leaned upon it for support. "We should take a moment to recover."
"And then?" Ithilian asked.
"Then we must see if the Templars will have words. There are hundreds more out there. At this point, it's that or death."