Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/4841

Though his concentration was strained by the constant commotion, haste, and sounds of battle, Ludovicus sustained his focus - barely. As he traced the jumpcross hurriedly over Claudius' chest, he sensed the faintest aura of purity surround the General, a dim emanation of the Pancreator's sanctity. It was thin and scarcely perceptible, but it would have to do. There wasn't time for more.

Claudius nodded quickly to Ludovicus, then hurried up the ramp into the ship. Maradus and Terias were already assisting the groups moving wounded troops aboard.

Meanwhile, Private Darian exited the Cathedral's front entrance just as the guards sealed the doors behind him. As he rushed outside, all around him was the chaos of battle: a monstrous enemy drop-ship was deploying Symbiot paratroopers directly above the Brother Battle platoons, who were already engaged in fierce melee. The rear ranks fired lasers up at the descending Symbiots, while the forward units fought to hold off those that had already landed.

As he scanned the battlefield, Darian spotted his platoon - or what was left of them. A dozen men were crushed under the twisted scaffolding of the Cathedral's collapsed radio tower, crying for help, while others laid strewn about with shrapnel wounds, acid burns, and other gruesome injuries. Some were engulfed in flames as swarming Symbiot fighters spat fireballs at their turrets and gun emplacements. Others writhed helplessly on the ground, trying to extinguish their burning bodies.

The medic had his work cut out for him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:23, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

As Claudius ascended the ramp into The Valkyrie, Ludovicus took a quick breath and glanced around. Moving quickly, he joined in helping load the wounded aboard the ship.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:12, Fri 27 Aug 2010.

Ivan surveyed the chaos coldly.  He was not immune to the fear of the situation, but simply gave no outward signal of it.  His triage codes quickly calculated the probability of each man surviving, and generated a treatment order.  Those trapped under the collapsed tower might well live, but only if the tower could be lifted.  Darian could not help them with this, so they were relegated to the bottom of the list.

A subroutine identified a near-dead soldier as 30% likely to contain spore, and queried if he should be moved up the queue for possible sampling.  Ivan sent a negative reply, still shaken after his most recent sampling attempt.

As he moved quickly towards the first wounded man on the list, he followed various symbiots within view, zooming in on them with his tentacle camera, recording data for later study.

When he reached the man, he focused his attention on his wounds, doing his best to force thoughts of symbiots out of his head for the moment.
Diagnoses: Shrapnel wound.
  Beginning extraction procedure...

The soldier Darian was tending to was one of the gunners who had been injured in an artillery explosion when a plasma blast ignited his ammunition. Shrapnel fragments had penetrated his armor in places and embedded in his torso and leg, immobilizing him. If he could be made able to walk again, he might still operate a turret effectively, but presently he could do little more than lie propped against the debris of the decimated artillery and feebly bandage his wounds. The Brother Battle nodded weakly in gratitude to Darian as the medic worked on extracting the shrapnel from his bloody torso.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:08, Thu 02 Apr 2009.

::Tell patient to remain calm flashed the message past Darian's field of vision.
"Remain calm," he told the soldier, without looking up from his work.

::Bleeding moderate.
::Likely to increase after extraction.

Darian continued the procedure, focusing intently on the wound itself, and the instructions he needed to follow to deal with it.  It made not thinking about the violence around him easier.

::Apply coagulants.
::Begin suture.

As Darian neared the end of the task, his codes began to recalculate the survival chances of the remaining wounded, move some up the list, and some down.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:50, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/4839

As Randwulfe called his platoon up, Fariq's mind awoke and was at once a static mold of perfect concentration. Quickly, he began his work. Fariq muttered below his breath, concentrated, sweating, his pulse beating in his temples. He recited the ritual of the Armor of the Pancreator while grasping the hilt of his sword and pushing it hard against his chest with his left hand, and making four swift gestures in the air in front of him;

_{"...May the Pancreator's Armor protect mine mortal frame 'gainst all that wouldst strike at me..."}

As Fariq spoke, his irises wandered upwards, showing only the milky white that almost shone in the semi-darkness. In the white that was left, in each eye, a bloodied symbol appeared. The white soon became blurred by the blood and the symbol became completely unreadable.

Mere seconds thereafter, when finished, he turned his stare toward the other theurgists, and realized that they were already chanting. Quickly he turned back and cast the Pancreator's blessed Armor upon six of the Brothers up front, six at the rear and six in the center of the platoon.

Hell.

Already they were here, already they were beating on his Brothers. Nature had been tampered with, and now the Pancreator would unleash His Tools to correct its past mistakes. Scanning through the fighting Brothers, Fariq found and focused on Randwulfe's raging silhouette, and unleashed the ritual once again with one last, hard mental push.

For Thine children, for Thine Tools, Your most loyal Tools...

Fariq shouted, with his sword against his heart, this time gesturing in the air furiously;

"May the Pancreator's Armor shield thine mortal frame 'gainst all that wouldst strike at thee!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:56, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/5027

As Fariq declared the liturgy and signed the final stroke, he felt a rushing surge of absolute resoluteness and defiance well up from the center of his being, channeling the very quintessence of the Divine through his own will and unleashing its full, unmitigated power to protect his chosen Brother.

A blazing manifestation of golden-white light shimmered in the air above Randwulfe's battling form, flaring brilliantly with the unmistakable image of a sword over a ringed cross - the holy icon of the Brother Battle. It seared with white radiance, then faded, leaving its afterimage on the retina.

Just as the rite was completed, a Symbiot paratrooper descended on Randwulfe with a staggeringly forceful slash of a bladed limb. Randwulfe parried with his shield, deflecting part of the blow's force, but the Symbiot's attack struck through his defense - and halted abruptly. An unseen barrier stopped the blow cold before it could so much as scratch the Brother Battle's armor. Randwulfe countered with his shield, ramming the razor-edge into his attacker's chitinous face - wounding the creature but not deterring its aggression.

The Symbiot swung its blade-arm at him again with ferocious strength. Randwulfe attempted to parry with his blade but just missed the strike, and the full force of the blow sliced forward with enough power to cripple him - and hit nothing. Again, some invisible barrier blocked the attack completely before it could even touch the Oblate's armor. Seizing the moment, Randwulfe riposted swiftly with his sword, slashing through the beast's torso with a flash of electricity. The creature collapsed to the ground, its blood pooling beneath it as it died.

In the same instant, another paratrooper was upon him, hacking fiercely with a serrated pincer-arm. Randwulfe parried most of the strike with his blade, the rest impacting the unseen force surrounding him. Riposting quickly, his sword cut through the Symbiot's carapace with an electric spark, severely wounding the creature but not slaying it. The beast struck at him again - just as yet another Symbiot sliced at him simultaneously.

Faced with two attackers, Randwulfe leapt aside, dodging the first's slash while the other's struck harmlessly against his protective force field. In mid-leap, the Brother Battle whirled round, swinging his sword outward with full force across the back of the latter attacker and cleaving through its body in one devastating strike - his blade emitting a shock of voltage as it sliced through the beast's carapace and fried its innards. As he landed, the Symbiot's body broke in two and fell lifeless to the ground behind him.

Fariq was sweating profusely. Small beads of salty water were forming on his forehead as he continued casting the blessings. Only once was his concentration broken like a castle built of ashes - Randwulfe was suddenly attacked by a Symbiot, and only after several long and painstaking seconds did he show that he was handling the situation.

With the stigma burning and bleeding in his eyes, and his hands moving rapidly in the invisible sign of the Brother Battle order, Fariq continued to chant.

"Let the Pancreator's Righteousness guide mine hand unto the True and Rightful Path!" he said, almost as if in a trance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:20, Fri 08 May 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/5027

As Fariq chanted and signed the holy sigils in the air before him, he felt a thrum of power overtake his senses, like an unseen force intuitively directing his actions. Suddenly he was filled with an inexplicable confidence and deftness in his hands - he somehow knew with great certainty that any target he fired at he could not miss, as if the Pancreator Himself was there guiding his aim with uncanny accuracy.

Above the fray, Symbiot paratroopers continued to pour out of the gaping maw of the drop-ship while the platoons of the Sententia company battled to keep the enemy from breaking through to the Cathedral.

"Sententia!" called out Sister Theafana, directing with her sword, "Defend the entrance! Crescent Formation!"

Heeding the Brother Battle Priestess' order, Acolyte Vohlan shouted commands and the Sententia's platoons backed swiftly into formation around the Cathedral's entrance. Their forward lines were already engaged in intense melee as the back ranks fired lasers up at the descending paratroopers. Several of the Symbiots took evasive action as they dropped, darting through the air on buzzing wings and returning fire at the ground troops with bursts of acid and expanding webs. Manifest Light theurgists cast streams of fire up at the flying abominations, chanting liturgies and arcane incantations.

All three of the Sententia's platoons were quickly becoming overwhelmed as the Symbiot forces began to outnumber them. Some of the airborne paratroopers evaded the laser crossfire and bolts of flame, fluttering past the ground units toward the Cathedral's sealed doors.

"Stop them!" called Theafana, pointing with her sword. "They must not break through the doors! Hold them off until the General's ship can escape!"

The back ranks trained their rifles on the swooping Symbiots, lighting the sky with crisscrossing laser-beams while the Eskatonics conjured streams of fire from their vestment knives, incinerating several of the flying mutants before they reached the Cathedral's entrance.

Overhead, Symbiot fighters strafed and continued laying waste to the Cathedral's gun emplacements, spouting fireballs and twisting swiftly out of reach of scattering artillery fire.

As swordsmen battled, marksmen fired, and theurgists chanted, the remaining turrets concentrated fire on the two drop-ships. But the living dirigible-like crafts seemed built to resist everything thrown at them - their thick, reflective carapaces deflected shells, refracted lasers, and absorbed fire. It was as if the Symbiots had evolved their constructs to adapt to the very methods once successfully used to thwart them.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:48, Fri 08 May 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/4839

Fariq wasn't listening to the al-Malik Sister. He already knew what had to be done and that he was doing exactly what was needed. For a brief second, he glanced at the sky of this alien planet that he already regretted he had visited in the first place. Two deep breaths later, he continued his work.

The majority of the Brothers were safe, although their blessings were diminishing. Quickly, Fariq un-shouldered his rifle, murmured a silent prayer and began firing.

3...4...8...11...17...20...

As the energy pulsed through the muzzle, lighting up his face with yellow flashes, Fariq continued shooting the Symbiots that crossed his vision. Heads exploded, torsos were hollowed out with the sudden spray of fusion energy. He was still clicking the trigger when he suddenly realized, eyes blinking, that he was out of power. Still, every shot he had fired was a killing blow. Every shot had ended in an abrupt scream from a damned Symbiot. He allowed himself a breathless, hesitant chuckle before realizing the situation again.

Damn.
He re-shouldered his rifle and concentrated. His right hand raised into the air and began moving slowly. A circle, then a cross inside it, then a sweeping gesture signing three invisible glyphs in the air.

_{"May the Pancreator's Armor shield thine mortal frame 'gainst all that wouldst strike at thee..."} Fariq's voice was a hoarse, hollow tune that only the ones near him could hear this time.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:16, Sun 24 May 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/4839

As Fariq blessed each soldier in the front row of his platoon, the Symbiots swarmed over the Sententia's ranks, outnumbering them by nearly one third despite Fariq's singlehandedly shooting down a full score of the beasts. The flying insectoids began targeting the Brother Battle theurgists in each platoon, shooting thick, gooey webs at them which engulfed and immobilized them, rendering them unable to perform their rites. Without the theurgists' support and protection, the other troops became forced into a more and more defensive position as they struggled to hold off the Symbiot horde from breaking through to the Cathedral's entrance.

Meanwhile, the gunner whom Private Darian was tending to nodded sternly when the medic instructed him to remain calm. Despite the seriousness of his wounds, the trooper seemed remarkably collected, a testament to the renowned stoicism of the Brother Battle. As Darian extracted the shrapnel from the man's torso and leg, the trooper unholstered his blaster and covered the cyborg's rear, firing at any Symbiots that tried to attack the medic from behind while he performed his work.

Above, Symbiot fighters continued outmaneuvering turret-fire and decimating the Cathedral's numerous guns. Less than a quarter of the Cathedral's ground-to-air defenses remained intact, and most were concentrated on preventing the second enemy drop-ship from breaching the perimeter. So far the ship had been kept at bay, but it was maneuvering steadily closer as defensive firepower began diminishing.

"We can't take much more of this!" Sister Theafana exclaimed to the officers with her as she watched the Symbiot fighters blast their turrets and artillery. "If support doesn't get here soon, there won't be anything left to defend!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:13, Sun 31 May 2009.

Darian finished up with the soldier, and spared a second to observe the carnage around him.  He entered a quick command to his think machine to update the list, giving priority to those who would be able to fight on after treatment, and including half his doses of Elixir as available.  He loathed to use up the precious fluid, but realized that the fight was not going well, and anyone able to fight might tip the tide enough to lead to his survival.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:25, Tue 09 June 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/4839

Drawing his claymore, Fariq again made three invisible glyphs in the air, all while the stigmatic blood trickled down his chin.

_{"May the Pancreator's Hand rightfully guide mine own 'gainst the Unrighteous!"}

Strengthened in body and spirit, Fariq threw himself into the gory battle with both hands holding his powered sword. As long as the screams were coming from the Symbiots, he was not going to interrupt his mind's focus on the task. His hands were furiously chopping, stabbing and cutting at the flailing Symbiots. It was like cutting grass on the fields of Shaprut.

The one thing that crossed his mind was the spores. For a moment, he got anxious about the splattering Symbiot blood; what if he inhaled it? Or if a drop were to enter his mouth or eye? As he was thinking a heavy blow struck through his defense, but the Pancreator's protection halted the attack miraculously. Without a scratch, Fariq snapped out of dreary thoughts with a reaction that cut through the sinewy Symbiot body.

Without a word, Fariq continued slashing. He had lost count of all the unholy lives that he had hopefully terminated, and for each unholy life he had saved one of his brothers'.

Was... it one of these?
Another thought surfaced suddenly, a thought that he suppressed violently. That very thought spurred the flame inside him to chop more furiously and meticulously; to root out the evil that was in front of him and continued pouring out from the darkness far away.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:18, Tue 16 June 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/6274

Just when it looked as if the battle was hopeless, two fighter jets streaked from the city's starport and opened fire on the Symbiot Wasp fighters, forcing them to break off their attack and take evasive action. The garrison fighters engaged the Wasps in an aerial dogfight, intercepting their assault and preventing them from targeting the Cathedral's defenses.

All ten fighters swarmed chaotically about in the night sky, twisting and looping, chasing and evading, and firing at each other's tails aggressively. The garrison fighters coordinated their maneuvers, flying together and arcing apart, luring the Wasps in separate directions and disrupting their formation. Strafing and rolling out of their enemies' lines of fire, the two jets circled back around toward each other, leading the Wasps on their tails into intersecting paths and forcing them to evade their own allies' shots.

The jets' joint tactics confused and disoriented the Wasps' maneuvering more and more until within a minute of the dogfight, the jets shot down one of the Wasps, sending its flaming carcass crashing to the ground outside the Cathedral's walls. The ground troops cheered as they watched the Symbiot craft plummet and burn, boosting their morale in the ongoing ground battle.

"Kotei lo rac'iin!" called Sister Theafana with her sword raised high. Our lives for glory.

"Kotei lo rac'iin!" cried the Brother Battle troops as one.

As Fariq and the other Brothers in the front row waded valiantly through the Symbiot paratroopers with their swords and shields, more and more of the insectoids broke off from the melee, flying up into the air on their buzzing wings and spraying the troops below with bursts of acid and expanding web-nets. Many of the troops stood unscathed by the Symbiots' weapons as the protective blessings bestowed upon them by the theurgists' rites shielded them from all physical harm. Others, whose protections had faded after several of the theurgists were immobilized by the Symbiots' constricting webs, suffered grievous wounds as the sprays of acid ate through their armor and burned into their flesh.

Meanwhile, Private Darian followed the reverse of his internal think-machine's previous priority queue - assisting those troops with the least severe injuries while leaving those with worse wounds to suffer and die. It was perhaps the most heartless and inhumane decision a medic could make, something only a member of the Engineers Guild, notorious for their calculating soullessness, would deign to do. And it worked. Utilizing his surgical skill programs and Elixir injections to best effect, Darian quickly and efficiently tended the least severely injured victims and, one by one, got them on their feet and back into the fight. With more gunners holding off the Symbiots' air assault, fewer and fewer new casualties were taken and the tide of battle gradually began to turn. Somehow, the coldest, most ruthless, most immoral course of action had become the right course of action.

Overhead, weaving and crisscrossing through the air, the two starport jets alternated their fire on another of the Wasps until it, like the first, plunged to the ground in a blazing heap. The troops shouted again and fought their foes with renewed vigor.

"General!" called one of The Valkyrie's crewman inside the ship, "they've shot down another one!"

Claudius nodded approvingly. "Tell them to focus on holding off those fighters as long as they can. They're our only hope to clear takeoff."

"Yes, sir." answered the crewman.

Seeing his plan starting to work, Darian scaled back on his use of the precious Elixir, but continued his reverse-triage treatment strategy.  As fewer new troops were being injured, he was getting further down the list to some of the more injured, more time consuming cases, but he continued to treat minor injuries first to keep as many men in the fight as possible.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:00, Fri 03 July 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/6285

While the battle waged on below, the Symbiot drop-ship looming overhead retracted a massive section of its armored underbelly, revealing something moving in the darkness within. As the craft maneuvered itself closer to the ground, several huge, spidery legs crept out of the opening and a gurgling, rattling hiss issued from the ship's interior. And then it emerged - a gigantic, ferocious, multi-limbed monstrosity that appeared to be a cross between a towering arachnid and a thick-shelled scorpion, bristling with spines, writhing tentacles, and a massive stinger-tipped tail. It thudded to the ground with a hissing, screeching roar that shrilled above all other sounds and curdled the blood of all who heard it.

The ranks of the Brother Battle momentarily stood dumbstruck as they stared in horror at the immensity of the mutated beast before them. Rising on its many legs, the titanic scorpion-spider struck out with its pincers and tentacles, snaring whole groups of troops and devouring them whole with its multi-jawed mouths. Its powerful tail whipped about, thrashing through the platoons' rows as it skittered rapidly on its spidery legs. Men's screams filled the air as the abomination crushed them in its coiled tentacles, impaled them with its tail-stinger, and ate them alive.

Faced with the beast's vicious rampage, the troops abruptly abandoned their fight against the Symbiot paratroopers and hastened to surround the raging behemoth, firing their lasers at its bulk from all sides. But their shots seemed unable to penetrate its chitinous exoskeleton, merely burning small marks in its carapace. The few remaining Manifest Light theurgists not trapped in the Symbiots' web-nets chanted incantations, projecting streams of fire from their ritual knives and scorching the monstrous creature's many heads. The theurgists' fire seemed to have better effect on the beast - though it did not sear through its carapace, the flames continued to burn and spread along its body with each blast, causing the creature to writhe and thrash about in a maddened frenzy as its form was set ablaze.

As the troops struggled to fend off the huge beast, Sister Theafana raised her sword toward the Symbiot paratroopers and gestured symbols in the air, reciting a liturgy in Latin. "Palpito pro Totus-Sator Territo Maiestas!"

The Symbiots suddenly froze in their tracks, backing away from the Brother Battle Priestess and the Cathedral's entrance. "I cannot hold them off for much longer, General." said Theafana to her wrist-squawker.

Inside The Valkyrie, Claudius turned to one of his officers. "Lieutenant, how much longer before the wounded are all secured?"

The officer quickly surveyed the troops being loaded onto the ship, then looked back to the General. "Five minutes, Sir."

Claudius nodded and spoke into his squawker. "We'll be ready to takeoff in five minutes, Sister. Hold them off for as long as you can."

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/7541

Suddenly, Ludovicus was struck by a sharp, unnerving awareness of danger, a precognition of impending peril - perhaps half a minute into the future, from somewhere outside the ship. As he traced the sense, he felt its origins...stretching down the main hall from the hangar toward the Cathedral's entrance... The General's personal guard were in defensive position there...but somehow Ludovicus felt as if the danger he sensed would approach despite the guards at the front doors...
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Thu 23 July 2009.

Ludovicus froze when he felt the sudden realization wash over him. Glancing in the direction of The Valkyrie's loading bay, he lowered his head and murmured a prayer seeking the Celestial Sun's further guidance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:48, Thu 23 July 2009.

As Ludovicus attuned his focus to receive the Pancreator's revelations, everything suddenly became crystal clear in his mind's eye. His thoughts drew sudden connections between variables revolving around the threat he sensed: the danger he perceived originated from the direction of the Cathedral's entrance hall, but the front doors were barricaded and guarded by Absolution's Avengers - the most elite platoon of combat theurgists in the Stigmata Garrison. Therefore, whatever threat was about to invade their sanctum would either have to charge right through the doors and the guards - highly dubious, given the Avengers' powers - or, it would enter via some other means. An image of the hall's towering, reinforced windows flashed in his mind. The Avengers were guarding the wrong place!

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/7543

The realization that the Avengers were wrongly positioned resounded through his very being. Turning to the Master, Ludovicas spoke in a loud, firm voice, "Sir, it is not the doors through which danger comes, but the windows."

Hefting his flamegun, he broke into a determined sprint to the area before the windows. As he moved he switched his flamegun to his other hand and drew his vestment knife - whatever attacked would be met by his petition to the Pancreator for His cleansing flames.

Upon nearing the entrance area, he shouted, "Avengers, it's the windows through which our enemy comes!!!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:56, Fri 24 July 2009.

Music: http://www.onmvoice.com/play/7543

"What?" Claudius responded with alarm. Dashing quickly after Ludovicus, the General called behind him to his staff, "Officers, follow me!"

The Command staff raced out of the ship into the hangar and sprinted down the Cathedral's main hall. As they ran, Claudius traced a sword and jumpcross over his breast and uttered a low prayer, "Totus-Sator Loricatus contego meus letalis somes obviam quicumque offendo procul mihi..."

He then repeated the gesture toward Ludovicus' back, murmuring, "Totus-Sator Loricatus contego vestri letalis somes obviam quicumque offendo procul vos..."

When Ludovicus shouted his warning to the guards, their captain quickly acknowledged and issued orders for the men to reposition themselves along the rows of arched, stained-glass windows lining the hall.

"Brothers," called the High Priest captain, "prepare for breach!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:54, Fri 24 July 2009.

As the monster appeared from the hollows of the Symbiot ship, Fariq forced himself not to give in to the shock. He knew that they had to keep moving, keep battling.

"We must get underneath it! It has to be softer there!" He was determined to find out. Before anyone knew, Fariq started running to try and come close to the huge beast.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:19, Fri 24 July 2009.

When he arrived before the windows, the Eskatonic knew he had a bit of time before they'd be pierced by whatever Symbiot menace was forthcoming. Taking a breath, he remembered that he had not yet cast the Consecrated Body rite on himself as he'd intended to. It was with the Pancreator's blessing that he had the time to do so now. Speaking the prayer he used earlier on the General, he traced the jumpcross of the Pancreator before him, and in so doing sought His protection.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:17, Fri 27 Aug 2010.

The sight of the massive creature held Ivan dumbstruck for a moment. "It's amazi--" he whispered before catching himself. Forgetting the wounded, he quickly set about using his cyber-eye to capture images of the beast for later examination. Using the camera on his tentacle-arm, he zoomed in on various parts of the beast, trying to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:18, Fri 27 Aug 2010.

Fariq realized that he alone would not be able to do anything physical against the newly arrived monster unless they were all protected by His Hands. Quickly, he concentrated on the task of blessing his troops. The morale would be indirectly boosted as he did so. With shaky hands and a pale face, he turned toward the night sky and closed his eyes. Slowly, he began chanting:

"May the Pancreator's Armor shield thine mortal frame 'gainst all that wouldst strike at thee..."

Fariq laid his hands on the first Brother, then repeated the sequence over and over again, as if in a trance. While his hands were drawing signs in the air, his eyes bled as if being stung by an invisible needle. The chant grew louder and louder:

"May the Pancreator's Armor shield thine mortal frame 'gainst all that wouldst strike at thee!!"

Fariq did not stop until as many troops in the front and back rows were shielded and ready to engage the monstrosity in front of them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:22, Fri 27 Aug 2010.