Further in there's a second group, close to the enchanting chamber. This time they're adults. This time the breach is more severe. It's against Meredith's orders that Cullen speaks out, and it's only by virtue of the fact that he has more active supporters present that reason wins the day. However, it also means his support thins with three of his men moving to escort the mages to safety.
He feels a sense of impending doom when they draw near the chamber. Fire roars past the doorway, a magical barrier of flame impenetrable by conventional means. He steps onto the causeway just behind Meredith in time to see... It's unthinkable. Orsino surrounded by dead mages. So many bodies! What have they done? He shakes his head in rejection of the sight, negation.
It's too late. The First Enchanter has set into motion things that can't be undone. Corpses lift and fuse, bloating him to a shape beyond description and corruption. Meredith steps back into him. Her look at him is accusation, as though all of his arguments for mercy lead only to this path.
"We'll leave the Champion to deal with him, if she's so eager to die for these mages. We'll regroup in the courtyard and deal with whatever emerges victorious. Gather the others. We move."
He gathers what focus remains and begins barking his orders. "You heard her, templars! Back to the courtyard. Now!" A few fail to heed the orders, intent on breaching the fire barrier and dying horribly for their stubbornness. Cullen focuses on getting the rest as they go back the way they've fought so hard to come. A small part of him prays it's not Hawke emerging from that fight. He has a feeling Meredith will make no distinction between her or the abomination. Not anymore.
no subject
He feels a sense of impending doom when they draw near the chamber. Fire roars past the doorway, a magical barrier of flame impenetrable by conventional means. He steps onto the causeway just behind Meredith in time to see... It's unthinkable. Orsino surrounded by dead mages. So many bodies! What have they done? He shakes his head in rejection of the sight, negation.
It's too late. The First Enchanter has set into motion things that can't be undone. Corpses lift and fuse, bloating him to a shape beyond description and corruption. Meredith steps back into him. Her look at him is accusation, as though all of his arguments for mercy lead only to this path.
"We'll leave the Champion to deal with him, if she's so eager to die for these mages. We'll regroup in the courtyard and deal with whatever emerges victorious. Gather the others. We move."
He gathers what focus remains and begins barking his orders. "You heard her, templars! Back to the courtyard. Now!" A few fail to heed the orders, intent on breaching the fire barrier and dying horribly for their stubbornness. Cullen focuses on getting the rest as they go back the way they've fought so hard to come. A small part of him prays it's not Hawke emerging from that fight. He has a feeling Meredith will make no distinction between her or the abomination. Not anymore.