It really was a shame that Victor hadn't actually mentioned going in half-cocked, as Hilary, sword in hand, bolted toward the robed figures. She didn't let out a battle cry this time and actually darted behind pews and pillars when she thought a robed figure would look up.
She was behind one such pew when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "May I help you, child?"
The tone of voice made Hilary's blood turn cold, though she wouldn't admit it. She cautiously looked up to find a nun offering her a smile. And then Hilary was flying through the air, sword in hand, and barely enough time to cry out. Luckily, or unluckily depending on who one rooted for, Hilary landed on a few of the robed figures, putting a temporary end to their ritual. The girl and her makeshift living landing pads struggled to get to their feet and Hilary realized she was surrounded.
The nun that had thrown her was cackling like mad and her face had turned from a serene woman of the church to that of a demonic mockery. The girl climbed onto the altar where her sitter lay unconscious and brandished her sword. All the robed figures had similar features as the nun and this just made the young girl vow never to go to church without a fight again. "Man, no wonder you're evil. God smacked you all down with a mack truck full of ugly!"
The robed figures charged, some toward her, but some splintered off to entrance, where Hilary's companions were.