[center][h2][color=rosybrown][i]Willowa Turnas[/i][/color][/h2][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/51fc61ac770a524e9468f174afa94d7f/tumblr_inline_n1xc79Kcic1rb3m8r.png[/img][/center]

Three things became abundantly clear very quickly. First and most disheartening was that diplomacy was doomed from the start, the Nephilim proving themselves no saner then the lowest retches in the Abyss and lashing out at even the fallen Angel's placating words. Second was that, for all the horror of their visage and speed with a lance, they were sluggish in every other regard. Even Raula's sledgehammer blow sent the Watcher staggering forward far longer then even a novice combatant would allow, tipping forward in it's floating state before moving to right itself as sluggishly as it had pitched. 

Lastly, the collars worked wonders on making the werewolves obediant, as  the pain roused by Velo's furry saw them loose a howl of madness and despair before the three flung themselves at the recovering Watcher. The presence of claws and fur against it roused some manner of reaction from it, helm jerking wildly as they leaped upon it and tore it to the ground, struggling with a vigor that came from thr spectre of death looming heavy upon them. Their prey's helm peeled away, strands of feathered metal opening like a sickening flower with a coreof meat and snapped for the nearest one, only for a flash of silver to herald a dagger thrown through the mass and pining it to the temple steps. 

[color=rosybrown]"Strike hard and fast. These husks have nothing to offer but the echoes of beings far more worthy of prolonged battle."[/color] Willowa hissed, a vial already rising to her lips as her throwing hand drew back from the launch of her dagger. A drop expertly sloshed out and not an ounce more, wetting her tongue before being stowed once more. 

The now familiar growth potion, used as originally intended, resulted in the already tall elf to tower over those assembled at 18ft in height, even her clothes expanding till the hem of her coat was a wall of swishing cloth. Sighting upon the nearest of the two Watchers drifting from the temple she crouched and spring forwards, tucking herself in tight before shooting out like a spring under tension, hammering it into the ground beneath her enlgarged greaves. There was a dreadful squelch of metal and flesh, a splatter escaping from her heel like a burst melon, but she hardly found it enjoyable when the miserable creatures were numb to their own pain. [color=rosybrown]"At least we know flattening works. Oi, dogs! Use a rock or something and smash that one already!"[/color]