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[h2][color=FF6C5C][i][b]Marita Bärbel[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=FF6C5C]Human, Cleric, Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=FF6C5C][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 13/18	[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 18	[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] Concentration - Shield of Faith, Inspiration (1->0)
[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] C10->B11
[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Attack: Cavendish
[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] Spiritual weapon (-A?10, Attack: Cavendish)
[color=FF6C5C][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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Thanks to Kathryn's timely net usage, they finally had the Constable pinned down to where they could beat him to a pulp. At least in theory. Despite his extremely vulnerable position, he somehow managed to remain as slippery as ever. Perhap it was a side effect of his pact with the dark powers. Or maybe he was just so much of a slimy coward that he could slip out of the grip of Wee Jas herself, at least for awhile. She would see to it that he did not evade Hell any longer.

Marita ran through the rats and brought her mace down on from on high, aiming to cave his head in. During this brief moment they both made eye contact. In his cold eyes she saw anger that he was in such a predicament in the first place, desperation to be free and yet that same smug sense of self-superiority he had carried with him since they first met at the town gates not 2 days prior. Conversely, what the constable was met with was a gaze of contempt for the small rodent at her feet, fury that was colder than the bitter autumn rain, but above all else: Judgment. The light of the flames in that moment reflected more brightly from her mace than any point in the battlefield, as if giving her strike the boon from her god to vanquish the twisted abuser of the law before her. And as she brought down her mace to mete justice, Cavendish managed to roll out of the way. He had managed to buy himself that much more time to potentially turn this battle back around.

Is what he might have thought before he suddenly found himself unable to breathe. The spiritual dagger had struck just after her mace and planted itself directly into his trachea. The warlock struggled and writhed, spitting up blood and burbling as blood spilled from the wound in his neck, but he was unable to do anything about his imminent demise. Marita stood up and stared at him, looking rather unsatisfied despite landing the finishing blow. It was then that for the first time she spoke directly to the Constable.

[color=FF6C5C][i]Nis khach nis chasks uzosk kamnim.[/i][/color]

The infernal tongue dropped with the weight of a curse rather than a mortal's sentence. Almost as if it carried the same kind of divine authority as her magic. After her first and final words to the crooked lawman, he finally stopped his struggling and lay still, eyes open and cold like a marketplace fish. All in all it was a rather anti-climatic end for one with such grand ambitions as him, but Marita didn't let her guard down just yet. All the visible threats had been dealt with, but there was still the massive mystery at hand of the guardsmen and what exactly was going on with them.

[hr]
Infernal translation: Burn in the Nine Hells forever.

[@Sigil] Victoria's turn if combat's still going