[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia relished in the gory finish of her first kill, letting out a trembling and ecstatic breath as she felt its life force slip away. [i]I tried to warn you,[/i] she thought, [i]that if you had the scourge I'd have to kill you.[/i]. Her mind turned toward the more pressing danger--the Mad One, reaching down with its awful clawed hands to crush her between its inhuman limbs. She ducked and wove past it, rolling at a 45 degree angle to get beneath it and cross over towards the line of sight of the doorway before she took another long step forward, maybe 2-3 feet, and turned on her heel to be facing the Mad One again, spear braced for whatever movement it might try to make.

"The Beastman is dead! If you kill the Pallid One, dears, you live. If you don't, you die." She shouted out into the clinic, voice triumphant and resonant with the urgings of their victory. She hoped beyond hope that they would see sense and listen to her, more scared of the hunters than the now-solitary gaoler keeping them under duress. Some of them might have followed him willingly, but at least a few looked like they'd been pressed into service. Their weakest link was their lack of trust; and her words the hammer of doubt that would liberate them... or so she hoped. It would be a shame to kill them, though... she could add their eyes to her collection if they did not listen. It was not all bad.