Cullen shudders. It's a hated feeling, the wash of mana uninvited over his skin. If this had happened to him just five years ago, there's a chance he might have broken and hurled himself into the harbor in a blind panic. Now, he recognizes the benefit he's given and takes advantage of it. They all do. It's a frenzy of hacking and chopping. All of them are coated in splashes of black. The stench is indescribable.

The demon tips back its monstrous head, roars its fury, and begins to topple backwards. Cullen flings his sword aside to dart forward and grab a dazed comrade, snatching him out of the path of the crash. It's heavy enough to shake the ground directly in its vicinity. He scrambles for his blade and takes several swift steps back to Dorian. He's breathing so heavily he's light headed and having difficulty speaking.

"This mage...is with me." Almost to a one, the others look toward Meredith.

She narrows her eyes in stony silence. After a very tense pause, she nods once. The look she shoots Cullen tells him there will be a reckoning for this later. The templars reform into battle lines and file toward the ferry.

Cullen glances at Dorian, a cautionary look. "Stay out of her way. Understood?" He won't be able to help him at all if he catches her ire. He starts toward the ferry with the rest of them, his face set in a grim line. The demons aren't anywhere near the worst of what's to come tonight. It's a daunting thought.