The two inquisitors circled me slowly, warily even. The older woman, Veera, held a one-handed longsword in both hands, her white cloak flapping in the breeze generated by her aura. The other, Aqua, was barehanded, channeling some mysterious magical technique. Watery mana coiled about her fists in strange cycles, promising effects far greater than a simple punch in her attacks.
Snarls and screams ripped through the air from the other side of the street where Fable battled the other inquisitors. It wasn't so much a battle as a slaughter, but the white-cloaked men fought tenaciously, refusing to die easily. Their fight was a parallel of my own, save it was the inquisitors trying to survive. A strange, bloody competition for survival, both fights hinged on the success of the other.
"Now!" Veera cried.
