Metal grinded against metal, the tearing of tempered steel mixed with the pained cries of the Templar, and the cracking of bones as he instinctively raised his blessed shield to meet the reckless strike of the bandits spiked and tainted mace. Indeed, the man had managed to parry the blow, however the arm had fallen limp, broken and shattered by the shere force of the blow. His life was still intact but at the cost of his shield arm. A foolish move.<br/><br/>The raiders mace, having being halted in its momentum after striking the shield quickly recovered,  preparing to make the final blow on the Templar, pain that wracked his body had reduced the man to a hobbling and disorientated mess. His blade remained tight in his hand however, and his pious spirit was fed inaudible whispers to the Maker as he took steps back to give him as much time as he could to fight back the haze. The mind fog still lingered as the bandit came too close for comfort, but the man still twurled the blade in preparation for his next move. The bandit only boasted a laugh, a falsified sense of victory no less but the Templar prepared himself regardless.<br/><br/>Mixed battle cries exploded from the two of them as they charged once more at each other, the mace now once again being raised far above the raiders head. The same move was being used twice, and the Templar saw it. The Templar's blade drew back as if to make a final blow to the man, the bandit's growl was soon mixed with manical laughter as he registered the move, thinking that his mace was soon to taste blood again. The mace was brought down once more with pure rage powering his assault, but a puzzled look gleamed over him as the holy figure drew back with a nimble side step, twisting his body by pivoting on a balanced heel to turn his shoulder nearest to the fumbled bandit, his other foot digging firmly into the wet soil whilst feeling the wind of the blow as the mace barely missed crushing the man entirely. The shere force of the mace impaled the dirt with the many spikes that adorning it, dirt exploded from the impact and the bandit only managed to make only one tug of his weapon before a silent blade ripped across the mans throat, a spray of red enveloping the Templar and staining the holy armour of Andraste's warrior. Taking a few steps back, he stumbles and collapses upon the blood sodden dirt. With the threat disposed off, he took one final look of their skirmish before sighing in relief, throwing his weapon aimlessly to one side in brief frustration and tearing his shield from his broken arm to begin nursing his arm against the mans chest. His gaze faultered on his arm to look for Mistress Wedstone and Sali.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Sali's eyes widened in fear as the Dalish Elf made his approach towards her, desperation soon took over as she swung the pan towards the bloodied Elf. She wasn't entirely sure what her next move would've been, other than a flurry of poundings from her pan to insure the man would stay down, however the feeling of dread soon took her as the man blocked her attack. It paralysed Sali and emitted a pained and screeching wail, a wail halted by the harsh fist to her stomach, forcing the air from her strained lungs. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to regain her breath, fear had took her but nothing could have prepared her for the hand that tore open her tattered blouse, the paralysis seemed to evaporate into thin air as her small breasts sprang free into the world.<br/><br/>The fear of being taken and raped by these men was enough for the human to regain what little movement she could muster as adrenaline raced through her. Even though she could not run or walk, Sali had to make the attempt. She crawled, not far but she continued regardless and paused only for a second to look back at her would-be captive, panic filled eyes watched Trischal moving onto his next victim, To see the Elf launching himself against the other men. She wasted no time to put two and two together, only to utter her own prayer to the Maker for his protection and to her mother as she crawled as fast as she could out of sight.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Mistress Wedstone, despite having two bandits approach on her swung her rolling pin in rapid strikes against the two men, but the raiders seemed to have had other plans for the woman. They began to scream, spit and curse at the woman. Laughter seemed to be the weapon of choice though. They dodged her attacks, teasing her before one decided to kick her ass the moment she became flat footed, forcing the woman to the floor to earn more laughs for their twisted minds.<br/><br/>One laugh soon became more of a high pitched squeal. With her head buried in dirt, she was blind to the violence behind her, but her ears picked up on the death throes of her tormentors. It didn't taken long for her to finally haul herself back onto her feet and to wave her rolling pin aimlessly in front of her as dirt clung to her eyes still. With a few fumbly swipes of her hand to regain her vision, her gaze fell upon the Elf. It took little time for her to register the corpses that rested at his feet. It seemed the fighting was over.<br/><br/>With a side glance she noticed the crippled Templar... but Sali? The song he whistled was soon interrupted by Mistress Wedstones growling, words that were however soaked in worry and concern "Where is my Sali?! Where is my Daughter?!" The woman's face, one that first looked like stone had cracked, emotion poured from her. She would not have been able to force herself not to sound desperate for Sali's location. There were still no signs of the other Templars showing up.<br/><br/>She jerked only to the sound of a blood howl that filled the air, uncertainty gripped her for that moment but it was that dreading feeling that grasped her, the thought that the roar came from the raiders. None of the villagers would manage to sound so... demonic.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>"Move move! Back to the Chantry!" Jaeron roared, ushering the militia back behind the ranks of those that had managed to keep together. His prayers before the battle had already gone to the skirmishers that found themselves isolated from his main force. Knight-Captain Jaeron always checked upon Alex Warweld as they fell back, for he needed good swordarms around him.. as well as his men. The militia was always willing to follow the armoured core, and the Templars with Alex glimmered more than the sodden clothes of their fellow villagers. The bandits roared and spat curses from afar, some already slowed down either from fatigue and exhaustion, some out of fear in not wanting to be the first to make the retaliating flanking blow against the militia's rear ranks. Regardless, that lack of discipline was enough for them. Jaeron only turned his head as a mighty blood cry could be heard behind him. All that the man could see is a shadow plunging into the ranks of the bandits. He only took it as a good thing, any questions that would be raised was met with a sudden but stern "Don't ask questions, just move!" With a tilt of his head, he looked back to Alex and although he showed no emotion in his voice nor physical traits, he was relieved to see she was not trying to play the heroine. The way she normally speaks, he thought that the woman would stand against a legion, unmoving.<br/><br/>"I need you to be with me when we approach Ser Katharine. If you have anything to add, you are free to do so. I permit it. Also... I need another pair of ears." The way he spoke, it sounded as if he was giving her little choice on the matter, an unusual concerned tone however touched his voice.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The alley enveloped Aure in darkness the moment she entered, the sounds of battle heard in all directions. Skirmishers dancing back and forth from view, men who had halted the flanking attacks of the raiders no less, although the first thing to notice would be the raider corpse that seemed to be splayed at her feet, a short bolt rested within the mans throat.<br/><br/>Yells could be heard, the rallying cries from the villagers and Templars continued to flood the streets. Some barely managing to pierce the screams and the constant clashing of steel.  The only noticable howl being the howl of blood from a mysterious figure, it was hard to tell if it was human or not. One thing for certain was that the majority of the shouting was in close proximity to the north and the back alley paths, despite being shrouded in darkness seemed rather straight and narrow and shadowy figures could be seen pouring onto the path before her and running along it, away from her no less.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>As soon as the bandits were felled from the rooftops, Lyle's forces wasted no time in trying to keep up with the man. The path was just about clear ahead of them and although the bandits had ran far on the other side of the main road, their lack of ranged weaponary and the cowardice to jump into the villagers ranks left them prone upon the rooftops. Some retreated for some safer methods, others continued to follow and taunt yet unwilling to throw their weaponary at the fleeing villagers.<br/><br/>"We're nearly there!" coming as a relieved sigh from one of the men, the blacksmith whom seemed to speak on behalf the group it seemed. "Uncle Farley has a shop at the end of this row, which he has a balcony. We can climb down with ease there! .. but uhrr... just be careful.. its a little frigid"<br/><br/>The chantry was soon in sight...<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>"They approach! I see them!" A cowled man beside Ser Katharine Anholde exclaimed, an organised rank had formed upon the main road in which Knight-Captain Jaeron's forces were fleeing, a regiment of men that crowded the circular center of the town, the only wall that now stood between the bandits and the holy chantry. It was somewhat of a relief for Ser Katharine that the north was not attacked. Jaeron's men were forced to flee back to this location, if she was too then the battle would indeed be lost. She was also relieved that she made the order to bring back her forces to meet them. Perhaps victory would come sooner than she thought.<br/><br/>It took little time for Jaeron to finally meet up with Ser Katharine, whom moved to meet him in kind. On the one hand, she was glad to see the man was still living and breathing, on the other hand she found herself wishing that he came with news of defeating the raiders, but the raiders soon became visable beyond the fallen ranks of Jaeron's militia. The militia however had already begun to fall back and form behind Ser Katharine's regiment. Knight Captain Jaeron was the first to speak "We were blindly overwhelmed, Ser Katharine. I had no other choice."<br/>Ser Katharine graced him with a bow of her head in acknowledgement before casting her gaze back over Alex who had accompanied him, be it her choice or not, it seemed that Jaeron had dragged her back into Ser Katharine's presence regardless. A sudden frown stained her lips and it seemed she took that extra second to think before she returned her reply "My men are ready to strike. And the revered mother passes on her blessings. May the Maker preserve us." It gave Jaeron pause.<i>the revered mother?</i>. Jaeron regained himself quickly as he bowed his head in turn "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written"<br/>With that, they turned towards the upcoming raider horde.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The slow jog for Argin had been pleasant, to be surrounded by all this chaos and violence was heaven for the man. It felt as if he was skipping through the summer grass for those of a weaker heart, but he didn't expect many people to understand. Little bothered him until he heard the blood curdling roar from behind his ranks. It forced a brief pause from the man, something that certainly took the mans attention.<i>What in the soddin' hell is...</i>A brutish grunt soon interrupted his train of thought "Uhrr-- boss.. deys not have a dragon do deys?". The mans answer came as a back slap of his armoured gauntlet across the mans face, the brute stumbled back with a large hand adjusting his jaw and only nodded in contempt. Argin soon begin to notice that he wasn't the only one to pause. Raiders all around him seemed to have frozen from the demonic howl. "<span style="color: Blue">What are you all bloody standing around for?! Go slaughter some more soddin' meat!</span>"<br/><br/>It took a second or two for the men to obey, despite the screams of those that were meeting the barbaric shadowy figure from behind. Their back ranks certainly were thinner since Argin had forced all his pawns forward... but anticipation soon churned inside of him, and he licked his lips to taste it.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>