Querell was in a difficult position; he was surrounded by 4 fierce men, one of whom had Querell’s own mace to use against him. He was scantly armoured and a blow he had taken against one of them already, still stung on his favoured shoulder, debilitating his posture and attack pattern. He was also blindfolded.

Slowing his breathing and praying through the pain, he sought his inner peace and calm fortitude that came with his faith. This attunement allowed him to concentrate on the sensations around him that were normally hidden. After a few moments, he could hear and feel his attackers and their positions, feel the slight shift of wind as they prowled around him, waiting for him to move or for their fellows to make their attack.

Querell was a big man, bigger than most that followed in the same faith as he but those who came across him on his journey, found him to be an agile and devastating fighter. His faith kept him pure of heart and slow to anger, some also considered him slow of thought but he taught himself to consider reactions thoroughly first before retaliating, especially in potentially hostile situations.

He felt the stone-cold tiles that covered the grandiose hall on his bare feet as he shifted, he could see in his mind’s eye the pattern that filled the temple hall that he had dedicated his life to, he could feel the light padding feet of his assailants upon the same very tile and felt their stalking forms, shifting and slinking gracefully to ensure that Querell stayed within the middle of them. As Querell rolled his injured shoulder, through his now extensive awareness, he sensed the assailant behind him motion towards the two that was diagonal in front of him on both sides. Querell held his ground and fell into his defensive battle stance. The two assailants thundered towards him in a pincer movement, striking simultaneously. Querell pivoted between them, striking out towards one with an open palm into their cheekbone, whilst kicking out behind him towards the femur of the other. Feeling the resounding crack of bones in both attackers, one grunting with surprise before falling to the floor, his partner screamed out in agony and Querell heard both weapons hit the stone floor. He spun out of his pivot in time to hear and feel a third assailant sway around his screaming friend to try and jab a long spear into Querells ribs, thinking him distracted. Querell stopped it with the crook of his arm and much to the assailant’s surprise, lifted him through the air to slam him down onto his other side and with a dropping elbow into his face, his 3rd attacker fell with as much ease as the first two. Taking a short breath, he felt out with his Awareness and determined he only had 2 left. He stood immediately, snapped the spear directly in half and cast them out forward. A startled grunt, a clatter of weapons and the definitive sound of a body hitting the floor made Querell knew he struck true. Opening himself up to the power of Apollo, he raises his hands forwards and even blindfolded, he knew they glowed with ethereal light, he threw out a grasping bolt of light and forced the remaining assailant to his knees whilst bellowing, “YIELD!”.

“I..I...yield..sir!” The assailant coughed.

Querell ripped the cloth from his eyes and studied his work. The last remaining assailant was being held by 5 individual rings of pulsing light, both his arms stretched out behind him whilst his feet were crossed and a ring was on each ankle and wrist, with the final one circling his throat.