Dragging the dog-men towards the most rot-filled corner of the Temple, with a blood-stench so bad that even Roless was reflexively repulsed at the scene, the Hunter tossed those sacks of flesh and blood into the corner. He drew out the retracted variation of the Harvest out afterwards, the dull blade reflecting no moonlight as it was poised over the hearts of the corpses. A quick jab, and then, blood flowed as Roless’s magic got to work. The crimson liquid flowed up the blade, and then the shaft of the folded spear, sliding into the folds of the hunter’s dark coat and disappearing from sight. Soon, the two mongrels were white as bone, and Roless turned back to face the priest.

[b]“Suppose that you’d like someone to get that dead bitch out of the well too, before you get more dead people to purify? Or do you already have someone on that job?”

“What a way to go though,”[/b] he chuckled, shaking his head, [b]“Trying to take everyone else down with her and all.”[/b]