Genocide and War in the Old Temple District

[Vanion Shadowcast]

Most women never really learned how to cook meat in a creative way. Tessa McCullum was certainly not most women. The meal she had prepared for her family was amazing - the roast was juicy, perfect, and sauteed and grilled with so many flavors that it would be hard not to drool over it. Tonight was a special night for Joseph McCullum, though - Tessa and Graham's only son. The potatoes, the roast, the seafood bisque (oh God, that bisque), everything was a favorite of Joseph. The ten year old boy sat down at the dinner table, his father and mother already on either side of him. His plate had been prepared with a mother's love and nearly obsessive care. He reached for his fork, and then gulped, quickly setting it back down near his plate.

Tessa noticed, however, and give him a knowing smile. "What do we do before we eat, Jo? You know better!", she laughed and then motioned for Joseph to speak.

The family all bowed their heads, making the sign of the cross (the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost); and then Joseph began to pray with the innocense and faith that only a child could have.

"Dear Lord, bless us this evening and bless this wonderful meal. Thank you for all you have given me, and thank you for confirming me today as a member of your Church. Let me be a good boy, and let my Mommy's belly get real big, so I can have a little brother soon. Protect us from the Evil of the world, and keep us safe and happy. In the name of", Joseph then crossed himself in the tradition of the Catholic Church, "the Father, Son, and - grrkghhh..."

Joseph McCullum would never finish his prayer. Infact, he would never say another word again. Blood trickled from his throat, where a clean, precise dagger line had been drawn. From the shadows, a figure slowly stepped into the family's view.

He was wearing tight, black robes with the insignia of a red hexapus; the insignia of the Myr'Khul religion. His features were dark and elven, and necromantic tattoos covered his body. Tessa McCullum did not notice this, however, as she was too busy screaming in horror as she watched her only son gag on his own blood. A moment later he would be dead.

Vanion Knightwood raised a flintlock pistol, aiming it in a relaxed manner, and eased back the trigger. Fire and unforgiving steel shot forth, the sound drowning out Tessa's screams for a split-second. Graham McCullum's face was no longer there. Pieces of blood and bone melted away from what had once been attractive, kind features. Tessa, shot out of her chair, retreating from the horror of the two gruesome murders in her Dining Room.

"NO! Why are you DOING THIS?!?", the widow shrieked as the High Priest slowly approached her.

"Shhh, dear." The dark elf made a motion with his free hand, silencing her ability to make noise with his black magics. He moved gracefully to where she had backed herself into a corner, then spoke gently to her, "I understand that you are frightened. I know that you can no longer speak. I sympathize for the pain that is tearing at your heart, and threatening to shut down your weak mind. However. However, Tessa. I want you to find it within yourself to kneel here and pray to your Ghost. Pray to your Holy Ghost, Tessa. Let him come save you. If you pray without mistake, no doubt you shall be saved."

Vanion made no movement for several moments, and Tessa kneeled slowly, tears pouring from her eyes like they were running from an inevitable Hell. She was shaking, but she still found the strength to close her eyes and begin to speak to Christ in her mind, as she could no longer speak aloud.

"The Lord is my Shepherd. I - I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will - I will fear no Evil: For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they... they... for I will fear no Evil. Oh Christ, help! Help m-!"

Her plea to God was cut short, as Vanion tore into her jugular vein, his vampiric fangs feeding on her viciously. She had failed in her attempt to save herself in his mind; he was without mercy for the pathetic, passive 23rd Psalm which so many Catholics seemed to latch onto as some sort of ward against the real world. He drained her completely, her facial expression frozen forever in the horror of her last dying minutes.

As Vanion Knightwood slowly rose from the corpse of the family's mother, he raised his head to the heavens (well, the ceiling), his bloody arms spreading wide, in dramatic prayer.

"Ye shall know Avoozl cometh when the very sun itself doth fear to show its face, and the Shadows of Darkness covereth the earth!", Vanion cried out in reverence to Myr'Khul. Then, the dark elf moved to the front door of the now quiet home, and pushed the squeaking door open.

The High Priest of Myr'Khul moved out to the street of the house, smiling bloodily at the screams from other houses. In the streets, there was chaos - men and women fled from the butchering Knights of Myr'Khul as they continued to strike down the Catholic families in the Old Temple District.

The true storm had just begun.

[Ignatius Vossen]

Screams... simple blood curdling screams ringing out in the night sky were music to Ignatius Vossen's ears. The Pixie-Elf ambled round the street to which he was assigned in the Old Temple District, the head of his staff glowing red with the destructive spells that he had enchanted it with. All around him pandemonium reigned as the Knights of Myr'Khul wrecked havoc on the Catholic families there.

But Iggy just ambled on. He had never been much of a hurrier. Besides, there was something delightfully chilling about being able to destroy with relaxed nonchalance.

And destroy he did. Destroy they all did. A brief check for the sign of the crucifix on the entryway and then a slight swing of his staff to send a magical energy surging through thus breaking the door open. Each household had different types of personalities in them. A few were brave enough to fight but were quickly dispatched of. Others preferred to wave their crucifixes at him, although what was so frightening about two planks of wood tied together at the horizontal and vetical axis was a mystery to him. Some chose to pray as the Pixie-Elf descended upon them, their muttered entreaties to their deity quickly becoming screams of pain as magic molten lead burned their flesh.

And always.., always there was screaming.

[Karen Wilder]

The Templars primarily patrolled the Eastern half of the Old Temple District and Dockside... The Western half was to be patrolled by soldiers from the Temple of Divine Light. Thus, when the attacks began, it was quite some time before any Templars knew what was happening.

The first patrol to encounter trouble was a young group led by a hot-blooded lieutenant. Foot soldiers all, they were just passing The Loincloth Factory when one of them heard a scream.

Valor they had... and courage in abundance. But against the blackest of magicks and creatures of the night, it was not enough. One man survived long enough to sound his signal whistle... hoping a troop of Knights might be close enough to hear...

[Lothar Blacklance]

The sound of running men brought Lothar out of his slumber. He rolled to his left in the cot and rubbed the sleep out his eyes as he watched other members of the guard hurriedly grabbing up their gear.

"What's happening?" he asked even as he moved to rouse himself. He reached automatically for his boots and pulled them on.

One of the guards who had run in answered him. "Nobody's sure yet. Things are going crazy. There are reports of armed patrols, or gangs, roaming the streets and breaking into homes and killing people."

"What?!" Lothar was fully awake now. "Has anyone attacked the temple?"

"No, at least not yet. Osberic's screaming orders left and right. He's called in all the guard. He wants half of us at the temple and the other at the orphanage."

His tabard in place, Lothar grabbed up his swordbelt and strapped it on. "Who's taking charge?"

"Don't know yet. Osberic's already gone to the temple. I think he's taking charge there. He sent us to wake the barracks and then make for the orphanage at the run."

"What about the hospice?"

"So far, the only reports of trouble are in this district, or in Dockside. No one's reported any trouble across the river."

Lothar shook his head and then raked the room with a quick glance. "Alright, let's to it then. On me." As senior ranked guardsman in the room, Lothar took command and marched forcefully towards the doors. The other guardsmen fell in behind him and as a unit they moved with haste into the streets and ran to the orphanage.

They were not met with any opposition as they ran towards the orphanage near the south gate of the city, but they could hear screams ripping through the night. The men redoubled their pace, intent on reaching the orphanage before the screams of agony started coming from there.

As they gained the orphanage's grounds, Lothar split the men up. "Your four, take the east end. You six, the west end. We'll set up in the entrance hall and cover the front and back. Seal up the entrances. Nothing gets in that doesn't wear the guard uniform unless it's Zed or the high priestess herself."

Lothar took his contingent up into the front hall of the orphanage. A group of Acolytes and Accepted had collected there with a small gaggle of children that had been awakened by the screams. Terrified faces met the guardsmen. Lothar scowled. "Get the children back. Gather them all in the dining hall."

One of the Accepted started to speak, and then changed her mind. She turned and gestured furiously at the others. "As he said. Bring them all into the dining hall. And do it quickly." They ran, obeying the sister immediately.

A guardsman dashed down the hallway, joining them in the entranceway. "East end secure. We grabbed two more guardsman on duty here and barred the doors. Where do we post?"

Lothar thought about it for a moment. "We still don't know what's happening yet. Post two men on the roof. Post the rest outside the doors, with one man standing ready to play runner. At the first sign of trouble, return here and report."

The man saluted and dashed back down the hallway. A similar report came from the west end. Lothar assigned them in like manner and then deployed the men who remained near the entranceway. "Six of you in the dining hall with the children. Ten to cover the kitchens and back entrances. The rest of us will cover the main entrance."

Lothar picked out a man amongst his team. "You're runner. If things go bad, you leave us and return to the temple to report our situation to Osberic, or anyone else who's in charge."

The man saluted. "Yessir."

A voice near Lothar broke in with a dry chuckle. "Just like old times, eh Lothar?"

Lothar looked back at Jago, an old friend from his mercenary days and recent addition to the Phoenix Guard. "We'll see, Jago. We'll see."

They moved out of the front entrance, setting up position on the front steps and courtyard with weapons at the ready. Lothar peered out into the darkness searching for trouble and tried not to think about the people dying. Jago moved up next to him, automatically taking the part of his second...just like times gone before.

The Phoenix Guard stood ready, waiting for trouble. Ready to give their lives to protect the children of the orphanage. Jago muttered next to him, but Lothar couldn't make out the words. Perhaps it was a prayer. Lothar thought to himself, "maybe a prayer's not a bad idea."

Crossposted in Temple of Divine Light.

[Karen Wilder]

In an ancient, seemingly abandoned temple to gods long forgotten before the establishment of the city around it... in a chamber filled with artifacts of a race long dead... an unusual council of war was gathered. A girl, no more than twelve... an old man dressed in begger's rags and wearing an elaborate ruby encrusted crown of gold... a younger man, well dressed, with a lute strung 'cross his back... a teenaged lad, wearing the robes of an arch-magi... And at the head of the table, center of all their attention, a boy of no more than eight with a serious mien and the aura of a dangerous beast.

"We've got to do something, Lucien! People are dying out there!" said the girl.

""Even we beggars did not see this coming so soon. Many of my guild have fled to their hidey-holes." said the old man. "The doors to the Great Church remain closed, though as of yet the Myr'Khul soldiers have not attacked those huddled in front of those doors."

The boy nodded to the Beggar King, seemingly ignoring the girl for now. "What help can we expect?" he asked.

The bard shrugged. "This dinnae be the kind of thing that the Truthseekers can help with." He bent over the map on the table they stood around. "Fortune be with us in some respects, however." He tapped a spot at the mouth of the river. "The Red Man is in the City with the Queen of Cats. They're at the Crooked Hook visiting The Defender."

The young arch-mage frowned as he made his own report. "The Silver Elfs have again refused to get involved in anything save for protecting The Commander..." he pointed to a spot on the northwestern corner of the map. "and she is at the Manor in Seaside."

The girl slammed her palms on the table angrily. "Why are we just standing around talking?!? We should be out there helping people!"

"Be still, Mary. We need to know what is going on before we can know where we will be of the most help." said the boy, his voice dangerously flat.

There was a tap on the door and a man dressed in the bright colours of a street performer opened it. At a beaconing gesture from the bard, he came in and handed a note to the bard.

The bard read the note quickly and sighed. "My people say that The Watch are fortifying the three bridges, but they are clearly not preparing to enter the Old Temple District." He crushed the note in his hand angrily. "At least they are not turning away anyone who seeks to flee, but they are discouraging anyone from going into the District."

"Bloody cowards." muttered the young arch-mage. "That all but cuts off The Commander and the troops with her."

Mary shook her head, a bit calmer now. "No... I think Lady Wilder will be able to convince at least the Watchmen at the West Bridge to move in with her."

The boy nodded. "Indeed. The Commander has a lot of sway with most members of The Watch."

The Beggar-King touched the edge of his crown and closed his eyes. Everyone went silent for a moment, all their attention on him.

After a moment the Beggar-King opened his eyes with a look of near-defeat. "The Phoenix Guard have moved, but they only stand guard over their Temple and the Orphanage" He splayed his hand over nearly a fourth of the city map. "If the Hospitalatiers do not step forth and the Phoenix Guard stays out of this, then the entire northern half of the District is surely lost."

The boy nodded slowly. "Lucien..." said Mary, quietly... her hand reaching over to touch his.

Lucien reached over and took her hand firmly. "All right Mary..." he said with a small smile. "Thorgrin, head to Badside and make your way to The Hook. Get some sailors to help you guard that area and start building a safe area. Tell The Red Man and The Defender to move into the District and do what they can. Those two opperate best alone."

The bard nodded thoughtfully. "I'll keep The Queen of Cats with me..."

Lucien interrupted him quickly. "No, send The Queen of Cats to the West Bridge. The Commander will need the information only she can gather." The bard nodded again, agreeing with that plan. Lucien then looked over at the Beggar-King. "Take the secret passage into the Great Church," he held up his free hand to forstall the objection the older man was about to make. "Seal the tunnel behind you... I'd rather the chance of getting the Hospitalatiers involved than keeping the passage available."

"And I?" asked the young arch-mage.

"You, Mary and I will take what fighters we have left and take the passage to the Library." replied Lucien. He tapped the location of the Library on the map, then slid his fingers to the central bridge. "Mary will take three fighters and head for the Center Bridge"

"But..." Mary started to disagree, but Lucien squeezed her hand and shook his head. "Your magical skills are not suited for this type of battle. You'd be better help getting the Guard to move slowly in force into the District."

Mary sighed and nodded, and Lucien continued. "Don't worry, I don't plan on any stupid heroics." He trailed his finger across the map to the Temple of Divine Light. "Caladyn and I will make noise and attract attention, getting as many of the Myr'Khul soldiers as will follow to chase us to here."

The young arch-mage grinned as Lucien stood back from the map. "So, if the Phoenix Guard won't come out to fight with us... we'll bring the fight to them, is that the idea?"

Lucien nodded. "Something like that, at any rate. We can't force our way in, but I have hopes that seeing the ravening beasts charging thier Temple will get them to strike out at least." The others nodded as he continued. "That will likely cause the Myr'Khul soldiers to attack in earnest and get the Phoenix Guard involved." He then pointed over to the Catholic Church. "We'll then head for The Church Gate. If the Hospitalatiers haven't moved out by then, we'll gather anyone still outside the Great Doors and push for the East Bridge."

"What about the Templars?" asked the bard.

Lucien chuckled. "Our best bet will be to stay out of the way of the Templars. They'll be busy securing the southern half of the District, and once The Commander arrives they'll likely be moving in force on the Temple of Myr'Khul. Now let's go!"

The group nodded and began heading for the door... and the danger above.

[Brother Zed]

As the cries of death began, reports began to flow into the chambers of Brother Zed. He summoned Brother Osberic and reviewed the reports spread across his desk. When Osberic arrived he was ushered in immediately.

Zed began without preamble, "You've heard?"

"Yes. The reports have been coming in for a few minutes now. The patrols in the streets are reporting chaos."

Zed rose from his desk and moved across the chamber to a large picture window that had a view of the temple grounds. "Tell me. Do the reports say who or what is being attacked?"

Zed could see the brother in the reflection of the window. Osberic's posture was taut as a wire, he was ready for action. Zed remained passive and relaxed, hands clasped behind his back, his attention seemingly on the temple grounds.

The commandant of the guard answered, "It's unclear at this time. We don't know how many are being attacked, nor what size the attacking forces are. We've had reports of groups of armed men, or possibly vampires, breaking into homes..."

Zed interrupted him, "whose homes?"

Osberic thought for a moment, "We don't have enough information yet to assess that. The attacks do seem organized. There's a methodicalness to it that suggests planning."

"I see."

Osberic hesitated unsure whether to continue his report.

Zed allowed the silence to continue for a span of time, letting Osberic's tension increase. Finally, the priest inquired, "your assessment?"

The tension flowed out of Osberic with his words. "Until we know more we should fortify our positions. Recall the off-duty guardsmen. Ensure the safety of the temple and the high priestess."

The senior brother nodded his agreement. "The defenses of the temple itself are strong. Brother Vincent's efforts have helped ensure that." Zed turned from the window and looked at the soldier-turned-brother. "Split the guardsmen. Leave half here to fortify the temple's defenses. Send the rest to protect the orphanage. Until we know more about who's being attacked, why they are being attacked, and who the attacking forces are, the temple is best served by protecting the White Lady's own."

Brother Osberic nodded his assent, "as the White Lady wills."

Zed nodded his head in return, "as the White Lady wills." He gestured to his attendant. "Show Brother Osberic out. He has the guard to deploy. Continue to bring me reports as they arrive."

As Osberic hurried out to return to the Phoenix Guard barracks, Zed continued his directions to his attendant. "Send out word to the followers of the White Lady. The district is too large to protect them in their homes. Inform them that the temple's grounds are open and that all who seek safety and shelter should come here."

The Accepted wrote furiously and then looked up. "And the non-believers, Brother Zed?"

Zed pondered that for a long moment. Yes. Yes, that might serve the White Lady's wishes very well. "Send out the word. All those who seek refuge on this night of blood and chaos may find it at the temple. We will shield all those who seek the White Lady's protection."

The attendant scurried away to follow the brother's directives. Zed turned to look out the picture window again. The temple grounds were quiet and peaceful. Shielded behind the walls of the temple, the screams of the dying could not be heard.

Zed returned to his desk and thumbed an intercom button. Sister Naomi had been woken from her sleep and was at her desk. She answered the buzz. "Yes, Brother Zed, how may I serve?"

"Sister, we are soon to open our doors to those who seek refuge. However, it occurs to me that we should be cautious even in our generosity. Alert the guard at the door. The refugees are to be escorted into the Hall of Initiates, and should be asked to remain there...for their own safety. Instruct them that it would be unwise to wander the temple's grounds, as our defenses might misinterpret their presence. Also, ask that any who seek refuge with us to please surrender their weapons. It would be unfortunate if we inadvertantly allowed armed killers into the Hall of Initiates to continue their bloody night's work."

Cross-posted in the Temple of Divine Light

[Wulfson]

Here and there amidst the night, the shadows were met and consumed by magefire from a tattooed wizard, or pierced by the glowing blade of a silver-masked swordsman. The duo flickered in and out with practiced ease, striking quickly at stragglers and retreating before the shadows could react and gather against them en masse.

[Karen Wilder]

The Templars were quick to organize, once word finally reached the Chapterhouse. Though they were primarily cavalry, many seasons of patrolling Rhy'Din had made them more flexible in their operations.

Baron Febdash was dividing up the best riders into teams and sending them out... Three Knights, one Magi and two archers per team. Each team also took three extra horses, to provide mounts for any rescued civilians so they could get to safety quickly. There were only a dozen Magi skilled enough to trust going out on such missions though, and Baron Febdash could only hope that they would be enough. "Avoid prolonged battles... your job is to rescue those you can. Others will deal with the attackers."

Division Commander Fredricks took the entire 1st Division of footsoldiers and headed for the South Gate. Keeping the gate open for refugees and preventing any of the attackers from pursuing was a huge priority. Any foes they met on the way would be swarmed and destroyed without mercy. "With luck, we'll join forces with soldiers from the Temple of Divine Light who will likely be defending the Orphanage."

Cardinal Shoc himself took charge of the defenses of the Templar Compound. "As soon as Commander Wilder arrives, we move in force. Until then, we hold the Chapterhouse and bring in anyone nearby."

[Dimitri]

Dimitri had been close to the Temple when he heard all of the commotion. He ran towards the temple looking around he say Lothar of the pheonix guard.

"what is going on here. what is happening" Dimitri demanded an explaination to this.

He looked again at the guards assembled.

[Lothar Blacklance]

"What is going on here? What is happening?"

Lothar heard the inquiry yelled by Dimitri as his troop was departing the barracks and heading past the temple on their way to the orphanage. With little time to spare, Lothar paused and called back. "Osberic's called out the guard. Grab your gear! Report to the temple or join us at orphanage!"

With no more time to spend on explanation, Lothar dashed to catch up with the rest of the guard.

[Dimitri]

Dimitri layed his hand flat on the ground and spoke in elvish. Suddenly the ground parted and from the hole appeared two elvish swords and dark green armor. With in a few seconds the armor was strapped to dimitri and the two swords glowed ready for battle. As he put the armor on the colors changed from the colors of Azilla. To white the colors of the Temple.

"lothar you need to explain to me what else is going on. You know more!"

Dimitri followed the commander with ease with the rest of the guard to the orphanage. His usual bright golden eyes grew the darker color of amber a very very dull glow emitted from them as he heard screams in the distance.

[Karen Wilder]

At the First Catholic Church, the great walls were lined with barely visible soldiers... but those inside seemed in no hurry to come out. The Great Doors remained closed, and despite the occassional desparate banging upon it, the postern gate remained shut fast as well. A small crowd of assorted people huddled against The Great Doors in fear... and only the body of a Myr'Khul soldier, riddled with arrows, gave any indication that there might be any safety to be had here at all.

Along the western edge of the District, near the river, a lone man walked the streets. He wore armour of bright silver and his helm bore no facemask, nor even apparent eyeslits. A vermillion cloak, now ragged and torn from battle, hung from his shoulders. His armour and the ebony blade in his hand were splattered with blood and gore... some of it clearly his own... yet his stride showed no sign of weakness. A swath of destruction marked his path, but he had only traveled a short distance. For though Andre could be slowed, he could not be stopped... and any who preyed upon the weak would fall to his sword.

A few blocks south from there, a terrible roar cut through the night... and the wise fled from that sound.

Meanwhile, The Watch continued to hold the three bridges... hoping to contain the violence to a single district.

From the Templar Chapterhouse a division of soldiers, nearly two hundred-fifty men, set forth for the South Gate. As they passed the Dojo Darelir, a shout was raised to see if anyone within would respond...

[Lothar Blacklance]

"Lothar you need to explain to me what else is going on. You know more!"

Lothar answered as best he could while maintaining a forced run to the orphanage. "You can't hear the screams? You know about as much ... as we do. Some force ... is attacking people and homes in the district. Osberic wants the guard ... to protect the orphanage ... and the temple itself ... until we know better what's going on."

As the troop came into view of the orphanage, Lothar added, "we've been assigned to the orphanage, ... so protect it is what we're going to do ... until given different orders."

[Vanion Shadowcast]

Smoke and flickering firelight still danced on the sky-line of the Badside slums, reminding the pair of dark-robed soldiers of their doings in the Old Temple District.

Tybalt d'Tange, Rank Guardian in the Myr'Khul Army.

Vanion Knightwood-Shadowcast, Rank Chosen of the Myr'Khul Religion.

They had received an anonymous message from an arms dealer, depicting specifics of an arms deal to re-arm the Myr'Khul forces with fiercesome weapons. It had been sent to the Temple of Myr'Khul itself, so there could be no mistake about the black deal, despite the source.

"Here we are. Where is this mysterious man that we are supposed to meet?", whispered Tybalt. The gunsmith had an itchy trigger finger, and had never been very good at waiting.

"Patience. This move of theirs was both very unforeseen, and very fortunate for us. We will wait until morning for these blades, if we must.", Vanion said quietly, as he leaned back against one of the warehouse's outside walls, taking a hard pull from the crimson liquid within his flask. Tybalt must have resigned to waiting also, because he kneeled down and began to carve away at a block of wood pulled from his pocket.

Vanion Knightwood delved into the meaning of this trade. Why now? Why had the blades been hidden and stored away for so long? He pondered the consequences of this deal, but could find no immediate harm done to Myr'Khul by it.

"Hey, Drakhar?", Tybalt lifted his head and inquired to Vanion in the name that he bore to most Myr'Khulians - his true first name. "What exactly are these weapons? I still do not get it."

Vanion snapped out of his careful re-assessing of his plans and answered simply, "From my understanding, Tybalt, these are 'Wraith-Blades'. Within each tempered blade is at least one wraith summoned to this realm by the Cat Demoness, Shakira... before her death. I am fairly sure that they are designed to steal the souls of those they slay, and provide power to their wielders."

"Oh. Yes, we would want those, wouldn't we?", Tybalt almost laughed as the words escaped his lips.

Vanion's eyes narrowed skeptically. He did not entirely like this, but could not pass up the opportunity, simultaneously. "Yes. We do want the blades.", the dark elf whispered his answer back to the gunsmith. And then, they waited silently in the shadows of Badside for their contact to make himself known.

[Dimitri]

Dimitri growled at Lothar but this time he headed elsewhere toward the Chapterhouse where he knew people ready to fight this evil were. As Dimitri headed through the streets he saw people's bodies on the ground mutilated. Blood covered doorways and the streets, the elf muttered a soft prayer.

As Dimitri drew closer to the chapter house he ran towards it shouting in elvish. He banged on the door trying to get someone to answer. The screams of the innocent continued to fill the air.

"Anyone here!? umm Commander Wilder!?"