Somewhere he has the wherewithal to be surprised. It could easily be survival. If he falls, the mage likely will, too. It's his vehemence and willingness to be in the fray that are shocking. No Gallows mage would ever take such a risk for a templar, and why should they?
He regains his focus quickly. No more smites for the rest of this battle, not until he can put some distance between himself and the draining effects of the demons. It's easy to forget what a toll they take with adrenaline running high. He lunges forward and away from the mage with his shield up, a hard charge to knock one of the remaining two far from the other. He follows up with two more shield strikes in rapid succession and ends it with a deep thrust of his blade.
A quick pivot has him coming right back again. The last one is weak enough from the magic eating at it from within that it explodes in a shower of greenish sparks. Cullen keeps his head swiveling, making certain there aren't more. He's soaked to the skin under his armor, hair clinging at his temples and sweat streaking through the ash coating his skin.
"You have my thanks." No rest for the wicked. As he turns left at the statue, he sees further down a narrower lane between warehouses the bulk of the templars who had followed Meredith in battle with a spiked giant straight out of nightmare, a pride demon.
"Andraste's ashes!" It's bitter invective from his tongue. He shoots a single glance at his companion and rushes forward. There is no way he can see such a battle and leave his men to it. Meredith is easy to see at the fore. Of course she would be, fury and flashing armor, a rallying point for the rest.
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He regains his focus quickly. No more smites for the rest of this battle, not until he can put some distance between himself and the draining effects of the demons. It's easy to forget what a toll they take with adrenaline running high. He lunges forward and away from the mage with his shield up, a hard charge to knock one of the remaining two far from the other. He follows up with two more shield strikes in rapid succession and ends it with a deep thrust of his blade.
A quick pivot has him coming right back again. The last one is weak enough from the magic eating at it from within that it explodes in a shower of greenish sparks. Cullen keeps his head swiveling, making certain there aren't more. He's soaked to the skin under his armor, hair clinging at his temples and sweat streaking through the ash coating his skin.
"You have my thanks." No rest for the wicked. As he turns left at the statue, he sees further down a narrower lane between warehouses the bulk of the templars who had followed Meredith in battle with a spiked giant straight out of nightmare, a pride demon.
"Andraste's ashes!" It's bitter invective from his tongue. He shoots a single glance at his companion and rushes forward. There is no way he can see such a battle and leave his men to it. Meredith is easy to see at the fore. Of course she would be, fury and flashing armor, a rallying point for the rest.