"Are those the beasts that don't leave tracks and teleport across logs?!" Emmaline hissed. 

"I don't know! Do you have a better idea?" Neil shot back. They both looked at each other, Emmaline a bit more desperate than Neil, but only by a small margin. Neil had always treated life, even deadly situations, with far less care than a sane person would. But being so close to the ruinous powers and having Emmaline to worry about did get him antsy. Lightning lanced downward again, striking the monolith, and Neil had the disturbing thought that it was coming more rapidly as the chants grew more enraptured. 

"Ok think, Neil, think..." He said to himself, stroking his chin. 

"I fucking hate the woods," Emmaline moaned, and with the release of pressure like a knot being untied, her words unlocked an idea in Neil. He blinked, and a moment later glanced around them. This section of the forest was notably thick with trees, towering oaks and elms that blotted out the sky almost as completely as the obscuring clouds above. The thief pulled back a moment and began to rummage through his pack, praying to Ranald he still had a few sacks of powder. Emmaline peered over his shoulder quizzically. "What are you doing?" She whispered. 

In answer, Neil shoved his short sword in her hands. "Babe, don't be mad at me if this is a dumb question, but can you use your magic and make the blade extra sharp?" 

"I-..." She started, and peered over the lip of the rise again, before ducking back down. "I think I can, though anything more complicated and they could sense we're here." 

"Ok, do it, please." He said to her, and then gave a triumphant 'yes!' a moment later, a few sacks in his hand. Emmaline did as she was bid, slowly and quietly weaving the flows of chamon, the blade now glinting in the pallid light. Neil took the sword back, and crouched. "Ok, stay here and don't move." He told her, and began to skirt down the hill without so much as to a 'why.' She cursed, but did as he bid, knowing he likely had something clever up his sleeve. The time seemed like hours, but in reality it was likely only a handful of minutes, and everytime the lightning struck, it caused Emmaline to jump. She could sense the horrid, corrupted magic in the spells being woven, stuffing her senses with a sickly sensation. She was about to go looking for him when she saw Neil climbing back up the slope like a dog. 

"Where were you?" She demanded, but he shook his head. 

"Just get ready to run when the signal goes." 

"What sig-" 

There was a sudden [i]crack[/i], the sound only blackpowder could make. One or two of the cultists turned, but most were too entranced by their ritual to pay it any mind. However, it was an entirely different thing when another snap that reverberated off the trees and the dirt echoed, and drew everyone's attention. The snap dragged, followed by more, and a loud creaking as suddenly, a four foot thick tree with scythe-like branches and the weight of a steam tank fell into the light and struck the very middle of the ritual like a hammer striking an anvil. Immediately, half the cultists were either crushed or smothers by the boughs and leaves, and the other half of them stood stunned. The tree had slammed atop three of the monoliths and covered two more, and as the panic set in, Neil had already set his hochland rifle down, his eye in the scope. He pulled the trigger, and a cultist's head snapped back, half his jaw missing. 

"FOR SIGMAR!" Neil roared as loud as his lungs allowed it, and Emmaline screamed like she was a banshee from albion, their cries hitting the confused acolytes like a slap. Neil shot another cultist with his pistol, and Emmaline attempted to do the same, however her gun clicked and a 'shizz!' could be heard above the tumult. More puffs of smoke and flame rose up as the Neil fired and the two of them charged. Even with half the cloaked figures down and three now dead, the rest looked around as if expecting to be surrounded, and Neil took advantage of it, sticking the closest one with over a foot of imperial steel with his shortsword. They just needed to scatter them, and make it to the horses.