"You won't do much of anything cut off from your mana. Add a barrage of smites to that the moment you step out of line... I'm relieved you're amenable." He has no doubt the man could take out some of his comrades. There are just too many of them, and one more source of violence in the mix won't make them more merciful toward the rest of the mages. Not at all.
He shakes his head. "No. There will be no passing of blame. There has been enough of that already to last me a lifetime." There's no time for him to explain further or go into that. The reinforcements are arriving from the dock.
"Look sharp and try to stay close to me if you can. I have a feeling we'll both need each other in this before all is said and done." He steps back over closer to Meredith. He doesn't want her looking for him, finding him off whispering with a Tevinter, and jumping to unfortunate conclusions.
Meredith gives the order to breach the gates, and it's on. Never in his imagination could he have seen himself attacking the fortress he has lived in, if not exactly called home, for the past decade, much less turning on all of the mages in his care.
Many of the first wave of mages who fall are innocent defenders. Cullen has the unenviable and difficult task of targeting only the worst while still trying to defend against those he'd rather not harm under different circumstances. Not all of the attacking templars are out for blood. Some almost immediately fall to their knees in obvious distress and confusion. To his dismay, some of those meet their end at other templars' swords.
Meredith is at the fore of all of it, cutting a swath as though it's what she was born to do. Red energy coruscates along her sword. How had he never noticed that before? To be certain, he had felt the blade ugly from the start, a sense of disquiet in its presence. This is different. He fights his way through a small snarl of defenders with pommel strikes and shield bashes, painful without being fatal. He needs to keep her in sight if his plan has any hope of success.
no subject
He shakes his head. "No. There will be no passing of blame. There has been enough of that already to last me a lifetime." There's no time for him to explain further or go into that. The reinforcements are arriving from the dock.
"Look sharp and try to stay close to me if you can. I have a feeling we'll both need each other in this before all is said and done." He steps back over closer to Meredith. He doesn't want her looking for him, finding him off whispering with a Tevinter, and jumping to unfortunate conclusions.
Meredith gives the order to breach the gates, and it's on. Never in his imagination could he have seen himself attacking the fortress he has lived in, if not exactly called home, for the past decade, much less turning on all of the mages in his care.
Many of the first wave of mages who fall are innocent defenders. Cullen has the unenviable and difficult task of targeting only the worst while still trying to defend against those he'd rather not harm under different circumstances. Not all of the attacking templars are out for blood. Some almost immediately fall to their knees in obvious distress and confusion. To his dismay, some of those meet their end at other templars' swords.
Meredith is at the fore of all of it, cutting a swath as though it's what she was born to do. Red energy coruscates along her sword. How had he never noticed that before? To be certain, he had felt the blade ugly from the start, a sense of disquiet in its presence. This is different. He fights his way through a small snarl of defenders with pommel strikes and shield bashes, painful without being fatal. He needs to keep her in sight if his plan has any hope of success.