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>SELECTED: Captain Verdicci said nothing of sorcerers or magik. After this job he can provide partial reimbursement to you for the expense, this mission would doubtless have failed but for your intervention. You will not stoop to looting a sorcerer corpse freshly made. [Idealist]
You have to finish this before your sorcerous opponent can cast another invocation, or worse, more of his fell ilk arrive as reinforcements. You rush forward again, dirk held tight and a prayer to the Angel on your lips for their protection. This is not the hour for caution.
The Angel listens, the warping energies that slink out hungrily towards you do not bite and tear and rend. You feel an unnatural coolness, discomfort and numb where the unholy powers touch, but no pain or dismemberment like the other unfortunates before you. The Heir of Ursen amulet pulses once and the leeching energies wrapping around your forearm dissipate and die.
You slam into sorcerer, pinning their body against the Coven carriage door and trapping the blade against the press of your hip. The killer-mage lets out a choking grasp as your left hand attains a vice like grip around their throat, his daze turns to short-lived panic as the point of the dirk licks inwards. And <span class="mu-s">stab and stab and stab and stab.</span> Shred of his unseelie protections or ability to banish your cold steel, the hooded warlock dies like any other. The carriage shakes with each thrust. By the end of it, the warlock’s punctured black cloak is soaked through with blood that continues to seep out into the street between the wet cobblestones.
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