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The atmosphere was certainly creepy enough for a temple devoted to the god of death.  Zell had expected nothing less, yet still found himself as on-edge as a crackhead in rehab.  He followed from the back as Barracker led the way, taking one last look around the entrance hall before closing the door behind him.  Sword already drawn, he held it at the ready, straight up beside himself - a two handed grip, for the most part.  It was more out of comfort than anything else.  God help them all if they were caught in this narrow corridor and forced to fight like this.  There was no space to swing.

It was quiet.  Only the gentle sound of his own breathing and the careful footsteps from the others could be heard.  That is, until they quietly entered the library, at which point, the sounds of voices were in the air.  He shared a few determined glances with his comrades as they pressed on.  Whoever the voices belonged to, they were on the other side of the maze of tall bookshelves ahead.  The time for action drew near.

Again; no room for a proper formation.  They were forced into a column of twos, creeping along, the voices growing louder as they neared.  The first visual was shadows from movement, conversation now clear enough to hear the words spoken and similar accents to those from the village of Cherrad.  The party stopped on the edge of the bookshelf section as they surveyed the situation.  Zell moved aside a book so he could spy what was going on through the small gap of the shelves.

Three of them...

No... four.

"...it's not for us to decide," one was saying.  "Anyway, the full moon is upon us - the temple reopened.  There will be plenty of work to do tomorrow."

Nonsense.  Whatever they were talking about, it was crap.  By tomorrow, there would be no cult.  Zell whispered only loud enough for his teammates to hear, directing his words to James.

"Take em down quietly?" he suggested.  When James gave the okay, Zell nodded to Fenna who's eyes he caught first, then pointed at MacKensie and then Barracker.  Four cultists meant one-a-piece for the weapon-wielders of the group.  He sheathed his sword, drew the knife from his boot.  Then he said to James and Adam, "Cover us."

The cultists had made it easy.  They all had their backs to Second Chance's position, making an approach simple enough.  As Zell, Fenna, MacKensie and Barracker silently fanned out to each of their respective cultists, Zell's target - a woman in robes that had done some of the talking - started moving.  Zell's heart stopped as she almost turned enough to see him, but luckily she remained oblivious and headed down the aisle of some more bookshelves.  Zell followed.

She had a wand on her belt, but no other weapons, as far as he could tell.  He decided he'd try the non-lethal approach.  A dumb risk, really, but it felt way too dirty, following a woman into a dark aisle and murdering her.  And he knew it was stupid to think this way.  Dangerous and stupid.  These were bad people - brainwashed or not, they were murdering innocent people and worshipping god-damn demons!  But this was the problem when it came to fighting real people instead of skeletons and ogres.  The hesitation and second-guessing just couldn't be helped.

Zell closed in slowly and quietly, then tried to snatch her wand, wrap an arm around her throat and hold his knife in front of her face.  "Make a noise or a move and you're dead," he would threaten, if successful.