[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HX9chmu.png[/img][/center]
Illuminator? Who the [i]fuck[/i] was that?!

Regardless of how much guidance could be conferred from some no-name that a bunch of psychopaths worshipped, human decision-making oft shat all over the oracles of the divine, and in deciding to fight rather than run, the remaining mask-wearers sealed their fate. A spear, after all, was never a weapon capable of truly puncturing through any substantial body, especially not a human one. With a final harumph, Atzi jammed her corpse-shield’s chest into the charging point, catching the spearpoint between the ribs. The woman dropped the corpse a moment later, and the deadweight rendered that weapon pointless.

Which meant, then, that it was a hunting knife versus an arrow-studded club.

The difference in range settled it in an instant. They had neither the speed nor the skill to close the distance before the blunt face of Atzi’s club shattered the fragile, delicate bones of their wrist in one swing, then ripped up the muscles and sinew of their right left on the backswing. They collapsed in conscious agony, flailing in the snow as adrenaline failed to silence the cries of their broken body. And all before the spear-wielder could wrest their weapon free.

Atzi was upon him in an instant, one hand wrapped around his neck as she bent him backwards over the corpse of his accomplice. She ripped the mask off his face with the other and then clenched it into a fist. A clear threat of violence, followed by a verbal roar.

[b]“Where's Maira? Answer me!"[/b]

If there was no answer immediately, she’ll break his teeth, three at a time until his face swelled up twice its current size. After all, Atzi wasn’t a murderer. Except for the one she had used as a shield, every other mask-wearer was [i]still alive[/i]. Alive, so she’d have plenty to ask questions to.