THE FINAL THROWDOWN: EVERYONE
Right behind her shoulder, Rictor Cassul reeled as well, the wave of Darkga sweeping over the scene and causing him to double over, the muscles of his stomach clenching as if he were about to vomit, spasming, a nausea rising in his throat. The Dark was cold and clammy, where the Light was all burning heat. An unfamiliar sensation crawling and prickling its way over his skin.
Need to train more with the Dark, he thought, even as he tried to refocus his vision on the mage in front of them. Rictor eventually managed to regain control of his arms, which meant rising in time to meet another cultist with his gunblade, bullet landing in the woman’s shoulder and driving her back. Another pair got to contend with a blast of Holy rippling off his sword. He kept their area clear, giving them the space to tackle Cerf next. Go for the head of the snake, right? The acolytes might get away, but at least their leader would be taken in, would no longer be able to rally and muster and guide them.
“Alive,” he said, staggering beside Siana. “We’re supposed to bring him in alive. Right?” How the fuck do we do that?
Looking around the battlefield for guidance, lost, his eyes then met Violet’s.