Cultists leapt from every corner, seemingly from the shadows cast by the sun. Pavara had to act fast, scrapping the Baleful Strix, and instead, casting [color=003471]Psychic Strike[/color], one eye twitching in half-madness, half concentration, focusing on a mage to her left, busy conjuring some sort of fire elemental. His face went blank, and he stumbled to a tented stand, and began stuffing vegetables into his robes. A fireball seemed to zero in on her position, appearing to almost halt in midair, before falling fast. Her feet were faster, as she hurled herself toward a stack of shields and armor. The merchandise, albeit low quality, was heavy enough and the stand it hung on sturdy enough to hold against the flame.

Another cultist charged forward, a long spiked chain biting into his fingers and palm, specks of blood spraying from his hands as he swung the barbed hook on the end in Pavara's direction, like a vampire flail. Her cutlass caught the chain just below its sadistic payload, and the imbued magic within, (Icy Manipulator effect), dropped the assailant on his back, where he gasped for air. She had only a mere moment before he regained his breath and continued his onslaught. Her sword sang as it filleted the skin from his sternum, exposing bloody lungs and beating heart beneath. Despite the man's madness, he screamed in agony. Her opportunity was fading. 

She plunged her hands into his chest, ignoring the chaos. And for the moment, the chaos ignored her. [color=004b80][i]A human heart AND a hydra gizzard? Today is my lucky day![/i][/color]

And in one glorious moment, she held in her hands a beating human heart. 

A stray arrow, charged with electricity, struck her shoulder, and she toppled, stunned, onto her prize, which burst like the sanguine balloon it was. She cried out in pain and anger, while the body beside her, void of the most vital of organs, began to seize and shake. The ringleader cackled with delight, and continued the carnage. All the while, the wailing sound of an electric guitar set the stage for the most entertaining brawl Pavara had ever seen. 

She felt a tug at her belt. A goblin was attempting to tear her hydra gizzard from her, likely not even knowing what it was. Her sword was swift, and its cut clean. The goblin screamed and fell back, as his innards poured onto the cobblestone. Pavara lost herself, grasping the goblin's moaning face, and slamming his head down onto the stones. Over and over and over again, until his skull was broken and his brain uncontained. And in the middle of the chaos, she spotted the woman who had started it all. "[color=004b80]BITCH![/color]" She grasped the grip of a fallen heater shield and slung it like a discus toward the ringleader, as she ducked behind a stand covered in candles and brass chalices. She muttered to herself, "[color=004b80]Ruined my chance... Gonna get you...[/color]", while wiping blood from her armor to expose the arcane hieroglyphics beneath. [color=004b80][i]Tsthogga, give me strength.[/i][/color]

She pressed her hand over a rune that looked oddly like an eye, mid-blink, pulling black-blue mana from both her own faith as well as the panic and death that surrounded her. A tentacle rose in her mind's eye, and she readied herself for summoning.