Glenndus had been outside when the skies turned red. He, like many of the people, had fled to the chapel when the daedra started pouring into the city. What had started as a day of festivities and merriment was currently one of death and smoke; both of which he could smell from his position near one of the supporting pillars.

Thank The Nine that something had fallen in front of the doors; he’d been able to set up with a few others and shoot the beasts as they tried to make their way in through the only available entrance. He didn’t know how much help he was, but there were enough bodies out there to convince him he was doing some good. If they’d had to defend numerous entrances, that would have been the end of them, most certainly.

Now, Glenndus sat in his position, resting his weary body. From here, he had a good line of sight on the only entrance, and a pretty good view of the rest of the chapel. If Dagon himself were to smash through the building, he’d at least be able to see it coming. His hand tensed around his bow, where it rested next to him.

He wasn’t sure how comforting that was.

At one end of the chapel, a man prayed to his gods. A noble cause, and if the gods were willing to offer any assistance in stopping the legion of devils that were surrounding them, he certainly wasn't going to turn it down.

[b][color=8B8970]“...going to die.”[/color][/b] came a voice from inside the chapel. Glenndus shot the Breton man a dirty look, but said nothing. He noted that a few others were currently milling about; others who seemed like they might actually be worth a damn when hell itself spilled into the chapel. They all seemed to be making their introductions, or talking to themselves, and he listened carefully, continuing to maintain his watch on the door. 

He wouldn’t be joining in the conversation, there would be time enough to make introductions and give thanks if they all made it out of here alive.