Mistress Wedstone wasted no time as she raced towards her daughters side. The fallen woman quickly froze on contact to her mothers touch, rolling over within Mistress Wedstones arms to pull what tatters of clothing she had left to cover her dirt stained chest. There was a glaze in Sali's eyes, but a relieved smile soon crept upon her lips and the haze soon left her eyes, happy to see her mother hovering over her.<br/><br/>Both women took the Dalish Elf in with a surprised look, the casual pace of the man made Mistress Wedstone even question his motives. At one point it did seem he was unsure what to do next until he reached for a nearby lute from an abandoned stand.<br/><br/>"Come, child. Let us head back to the chantry." Mistress Wedstone uttered quietly to her daughter as they both paced themselves cautiously around the Elf. So many questions clogged up her head and there wasno time to ask them, other than if she could trust an Elf, a Dalish one at that.<br/><br/>"Greenvale welcomes you, stranger.... thank you." There was no reason not to thank him, he had turned on those bandits and if showing even a small level of courtesy would be enough to win him over, then she would be thankful for that. Why she was not dead was just another question that begged an answer.<br/><br/>"If we survive this, I'll make sure you leave in one piece." Mistress Wedstone spoke in her half worried but solid tone, bowing her head deeply towards the Dalish Elf, wether he was looking or not. Soon both women disappeared as they mixed with the growing crowds towards the Chantry.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The paniced screams of surrounding bandits heated the air around Argin as he marched relentlessly through the gathered raiders around him.<span style="color: Blue"><i>Weak... </i></span>The heat of battle came from all angles now, especially now that the roaring demon behind him fed whatever blade he handled a feast of flesh. Men seemed more eager now to rush on ahead, it was obvious to Argin that he was in the presence of cowardice in solid form. What resolve his men had seemed to have vanished so easily, but what did he expect from the fragility of mindless raiders?<br/><br/>Unable to hold back his anger and frustration, his pent up rage was released by a cruel fist ploughing into one of the nearby raiders cheek to cripple his victim. Be it a broken jaw or lack of conciousness, the man never got up again. To Argin, a man that wished to cower from the battle so close in his presence was nothing more than a walking meatbag anyway and he did not need them. Ironically, the man he struck was not the only ones with their morale shaken. It was only through Argin's own acts of violence did most of the bandits around him regain what little resolve they could save and continue their rampage through Greenvale.<span style="color: Blue"><i>Pathetic...</i></span><br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">"Listen up ya bloody maggots! When you get to the soddin' chantry, ya gonna soddin' wait for them! Don't you bloody well go chargin' into them! Catch your bleedin' breath!</span>" Aggressively, Argin roared out to what meat would hear him. What little of his bodyguard remained was quick to pass on the message and soon all the raiders were passing on the message. It may be a relief to most of them, but it would be short lived if Argin had anything to do with it.<br/><br/>The sounds of battle towards the chantry had soon began to lessen in volume but the constant wailing and clashing of metal behind him irritated Argin beyond his own capacity. With the melody of calamity and butchering singing in the air, his men will never manage to fully recover. cowards...<br/><br/>Argin was running out of options, and if that creature was being fuelled by such bloodlust to survive as long as he did... The man visibly grinned. "<span style="color: Blue">I want every BLEEDIN' body up front to face the soddin' villagers of this shithole! Lure that soddin' dog here, let him chase his bloody prey to the Alpha wolfs jaws. Whatever -it- bleedin' is, I shall claim another trophy this bleedin' day!</span>" With a slap across one of the last bodyguards heads, the message was soon being spread.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Blue">If we cannot take Greenvale, we'll burn this soddin' village to the bleedin' ground!</span>"<br/><br/>Clumps of raiders ran by him, cheering Argin's name and roaring in a bold cry to him. They soon melded in with the rest of the bandits. The Chantry and her army was clearly in sight, it was coming to the final battle. I can't bleedin' wait to rest my eyes on this creature....<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>Knight Captain Jaeron looked to both Ser Katharine Anholde and his accomplice Alex Warweld with an inspective stare, the blood splattered armour of both him and Alex made Ser Katharine look like a saint in her untainted, silverclad armour, even with the lack of light as night soon began to creep over the horizon, along with the raiders that now began to gather into full sight of the town centre. They did not run, merely walk into view of the entire militia and they no doubt looked as nervous as the villagers did. The raiders were soon throwing curses and laughter out at the militia; however at the center of their own town with their families within a minutes pace inside the Chantry, for once despite their state, they looked ready to fight to the last.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: DarkOrange">Come.</span>" Were the only words to come from Jaeron as he led both Ser Katharine and Alex to the front of the militia, despite Alex's eagerness and prepared state. As always, he was accompanied by a few Brother Templars who took his side. They seemed to show no emotion through the darkened eye slits, looking more like reanimated armour than housing a human within its iron core and battle skirts.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: DarkOrange">We are their beacons of strength, Alex. Let their gaze fall upon us and through us, our strongest arm shall strike.</span>" Jaeron spoke gently towards Alex, noticing the shield resting on her back and smiled "<span style="color: DarkOrange">Very good. You truely are an able warrior. Stay close and I shall make sure your back is never vunerable, I pray so that you will do the same for me. If your friends have survived, I pray they are ready.</span>"<br/><br/>The sight of the men and women were already showing its effects as the villagers bolstered themselves in their tight regimental, yet messy blocks of groups, staring down more vigilantly at the taunting bandits, some raising mighty rallying cries. The cries soon crept and infected even more of the militia, with more voices being added to the constant pattern of roaring and cheering until the entire militia was wave after wave of battlecrying and loud oaths in the name of the Maker"<br/><br/>Jaeron struggled to yell over them and flicked his blade nimbly to one side, preparing himself for what was to come as the shield soon rose to conceal his body, the -Sword of Mercy- being the last thing they'll ever see. Katharine was already prepared with her own risen shield and the short blade hanging loosely in her hand, it seemed the final battle was about to come into fruition.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: DarkOrange">This is our last chance! Take your places everyone! Show yourself to the Maker this day, and he will bless your courage and grant you holy strength! Protect the Chantry! Defend Greenvale and your families! The Maker's Will be done this day!</span>"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>