There were no chants or verses the Templar spoke as he bore witness to the approach of his raider foes, a hasty run that dwindled to a prepared and carefully footed approach. "<span style="color: DarkOrange">Scum...</span>" It came as a scornful mutter as the full plated warrior began rolling and flipping the blade in anticipation and the bandits soon came to a halt again, raising his shield as if to expect the first attack still, the shield displayed that they not only defied the Maker, but also the blessed Andraste as the holy symbol of the Templars, -Sword of Mercy-, drilled its pure image into the raiders minds, a symbol that was hammered and stained black upon a gleaming white shield for the permanent message of the Templars wrath. "<span style="color: DarkOrange">None of you shall lay a hand on the women here...</span>" His gaze drifted, from the threatening large monster of a man with the cruel maul, to Trischal. Raising a brow only to noticing the dark yet poetic tattooes,  the so called -blood writings-, all written across the elfs face.<span style="color: DarkOrange">"Dalish?"</span>If it wasn't for the helmut, confusion certainly would have dinted his tight lips.<br/><br/>Mistress Wedstone had already made herself the shield to her girls, women who seemed too frightened to raise their pans until that desperate attempt to beat back any of the disgusting men that stalked them. The bulky woman looked back at the poor women for a moment, uttering in a tone that could have been described only as motherly as she took advantage to the next pause. She very well knew there wouldn't be a third. "Go, bring the Templars. It was foolish to drag you here..." The small horde of women only eyed her for a moment but they had the look of obiedence about them. Their pace was quick and awkwardly sudden, some even discarding their makeshift weapons that hit the pebblestone floor with a loud clang of metal. However, another woman still lingered. A brown haired young lady, no later in her twenties branishing a large cooking pan in both hands, clenched tightly, enough for her fingers to appear white. Fear had taken her, but courage also kept her beside Mistress Wedstone, whom in turn smiled somewhat appriecatively. "Sali..."<br/><br/>The brute of a man raised his maul high, frustration now tinged his voice as he turned to his men "What are we bloody waiting for?! Kill them! Leave the pretty one alive!" He barked loudly and his three companions cheered in an unruly manner, screaming bloody murder as they charged recklessly into the three defenders. Whatever it may seem, the man seemed focus on charging forward towards the Templar. The women were already quaking, the strong posture of Mistress Wedstone had almost turned stiff before she charged along with the Templar and surprisingly, Sali.<br/><br/>The cruel mace raised high as both the Templar and the raider leader finally made contact, and he brought it down with a hellish fury.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>