The once quiet ruins of Silverwick had burst to life, echoing with the cacophony of battle. A shout from Salvio’s side caught his attention, and he turned in time to see a short, strangely dressed female, crouching for cover behind a fallen log, a reminder of the forest that struggled to reclaim the shattered stone of the ruins. One glance at the ethereal, glowing orb that rose above her told Salvio that this woman was another of the accursed ‘chosen’. He watched the lithe figure for a moment, long enough to see eldritch lightning burst from her pale hand, crackling through the air and knocking down a bowman that had stepped from the treeline. Salvio’s stomach turned, despite the death that surrounded him, it was the sight of this unholy magic that sickened him most. For an instant, he questioned himself, his journey to guide these souls away from the dark. Were they not already too far fallen, would it not be best to destroy the evil, rather than try to save it? Before these thoughts could form themselves together, Salvio heard the voice echoing through his head, a burst of warmth from the totem that hung around his neck. 

[color=fff200][i]“It is not your place to judge, Salvio. The gods have spoken. You are the hosen instrument of their will, of my will.”[/i][/color]

Squaring his jaw, Salvio managed to tear his gaze away from the white-haired figure, even as she moved towards the footmen emerging from the trees on their flank. Turning to follow the remaining riders, he saw them charge past another female figure, this one wielding a wickedly bladed weapon, the likes of which he had only seen a few times. While the exotically dressed woman had charged towards one flank, this one, more conventionally dressed, moved towards the other flank. 

As Salvio’s gaze followed the two horsemen, they seemed to split up. One wheeled back towards the road, while the second turned and began to charge, Salvio catching sight of the tall, hooded figure an instant after the horseman did. Salvio could see the figure hesitate, a hand subconsciously gripping a bow, and his brow furrowed. There was a sudden rush of movement, and a metallic crack that echoed above the roar of battle as the shaft of an arrow seemed to sprout like some macabre flower from the rider’s face, the lifeless body remaining mounted for an instant before crashing to the ground. The lean figure fired two more shots off in quick succession, and Salvio followed their flight across the remains of their camp. The final mounted rider crumpled from his saddle, and another horsemen, dismounted and clutching at an arrow already buried in his leg, suddenly fell still. 

Turning to find the other cavalry, fearing a thundering charge at any moment, Salvio saw that all the riders lay dead, their horses either fled or dying alongside them. A sudden pounding of hooves demanded Salvio’s attention, and he turned in time to see the bandit, the same man that had seemingly dematerialized at the onset of the battle and now somehow mounted on a warhorse, knock down a soldier with a hatchet. 

A sudden rush of wind buffeted Salvio, and some sense led Salvio to turn and look up towards the rooftop of a ruined townhouse, a mansion that made up one side of their makeshift camp. A figure stood silhouetted by the early morning light, and he recognised the figure of Agatho, longbow clutched in his hands, the string pulled back and an arrow notched. The mercenary had clearly not lied about his experience, even as Salvio watched, he loosed an arrow and notched another in a smooth, almost natural movement. Satisfied there were at least a handful of their party that had had the sense to take up vantage points, Salvio turned back to those members that had embroiled themselves in the vicious melee. 

Salvio could only watch in disbelief as a stocky Northman wrenched a tree from the very ground, and brandish it as a weapon as he charged towards the group of footmen that had encircled the brunette female figure, who was fighting valiantly with her sword-staff, despite the overwhelming odds. The two of the footmen that noticed the bizarre sight of the Northman wielding the tree broke away from the group to face him, but were shortly knocked to the floor as the trunk was thrown towards them with an almighty heave. Salvio was astounded by the sheer brutality of the Northman, as he pummelled one of the fallen soldiers until his head was caved in, shattered bone catching the morning sun as the short figure finally let up his assault. 

All this happened in an instant, and Salvio, assessing what remained of the conflict, could see that his hammers would be needed again if the group was to prevail. On one flank, the brunette and Northman faced seven footmen, although even as Salvio looked, an arrow punched through the throat of one of the soldiers, sending them crumpling to the floor, desperately clutching the grievous wound. On the other flank, the white-haired witch stood alone against four men, and was hard-pressed, a spear thrust grazing her leg despite her best attempts to avoid it. He grimaced as he realised that he had to go to her aid, despite her being the very antithesis of what he despised, what he prayed to see purged from existence. Almost as if it sensed these thoughts, the voice once more echoed through his head. 

[i][color=fff200]“She is strong, and she cannot be lost if your quest is to be achieved. Go, Salvio. Now!”[/color][/i]

Despite the pain from his ribs that every breath brought, Salvio gritted his teeth and set off at a lumbering run towards the footmen that were attempting to encircle the witch. As he approached, he moved quicker at the sight of a spear stabbing into her shoulder, but almost faltered as fire poured from her hand and reduced the wielder of the spear to little more than ash. The acrid smell of burning filled Salvio’s nose, overpowering even the foul stench of death, but he continued his run. 

Arrows flew past him, although he did not know which of his companions had loosed them. The first grazed the neck of the soldier nearest 
Salvio, causing the man to cry out, staggering back as he wheeled about to look for the bowmen. The footmen’s wild eyes found the charging figure of Salvio instead, and the look of confusion and shock was still etched across his face when the hammer slammed into the side of his head with a sickening thud. Pulling his weapon free from the shattered remains of the man’s skull, Salvio let the corpse crumple slowly to the floor as he continued his charge. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Salvio could have sworn he saw the glowing orb burn crimson red, but he was focussed on the soldier in front of him. A grizzled man, clad in hardened leather armour and wielding a wicked-looking hatchet and a battered, wooden shield. He was obviously a veteran, and he had turned to face Salvio, the new threat. Brow furrowing, Salvio swung the hammer, clutched in his right hand, in a sweeping arc. As he had expected, the soldier raised his shield to block it, staggering back a step at the force of the blow, but Salvio was already swinging with the hammer in his left. 

To his surprise, the footmen twisted his body, and pushed back hard with the shield, knocking Salvio off balance enough for his swing to go astray and miss it’s mark. Forced to take a step back to regain his balance, Salvio righted himself as the soldier launched a ferocious attack with his axe. Barely moving out of the way quick enough, he couldn’t avoid the heavy frame of the shield as it slammed into his chest and face, sending him sprawling back onto the cracked stone paving. Feeling blood already beginning to flow from his nose, and tasting the iron of it in his mouth, Salvio felt rage flowing through him, his jaw squared as he let out a wordless roar. 

Both hammers slammed into the earth, and the stone erupted apart. The leering smile quickly faded from the soldier’s face, as his advance faltered, the very floor beneath his feet crumbling apart, even as the paving beneath Salvio rose up and pushed him back to his feet. The footmen dropped to one knee, losing his balance as the floor continued to move beneath his feet. Salvio’s eyes burned as he let his momentum carry him forward, bringing both of the hammers down as one. The footmen was still struggling to his feet, only to be driven back to the ground, the back of his head caving in from the sheer force of the blow. Blood still flowing down his face, Salvio slammed the hammers down again and again, until there was nothing but a pulp left of the veteran’s head. Panting for air, it was only the voice that brought him back to reality. 

[i][color=fff200]“Salvio! You are not done here!”[/color][/i]

Grimacing, Salvio rose to his feet, wiping the blood from his face as best he could, before squaring himself, hammers clenched in his fists as he stood, side by side with the foul witch, glaring at the two footmen that remained.