The Advocate of Thaleena may have been late for today's afternoon prayers, but now, it was apparent that he had a very good reason to be late. He walked in the chapel, skipped the daily afternoon prayers, and essentially prepared the Followers of Thaleena for this chapel's equivalent of Doomsday!
The Advocate knew that the followers were in danger, he knew that they had to fight the attackers, or 'Transgressors' to the death, and with his options being limited, he even encouraged them to fight. He gave sixty angry, skilled men and women a reason, a pathway to unleash their years, and even decades of pent up aggression and frustration towards the enemy! He gave the followers the greenlight to kill, as today, they didn't have to be forgiving.
Thaleena herself gave them a loophole, and the Advocate encouraged it.
The sixty followers were on their feet, with their swords in their hands, and waited for the enemy. They were waiting for the enemy to storm the entrance of the chapel.
Clayton may be old, he may be sixty-four years old, but he was ready to put up a fight, just like everyone else was! The only difference was that he had the infinite wisdom to focus his attention towards the wooden window close to him, and he was right to do so, because it didn't even take ten seconds for someone to break the thin, wooden window open, and leap into the chapel.
With a single motion, he swung his steel Shortsword towards his target, a hardy middle aged man, and slid his head open, killing him on the spot!
Seconds later, every single window of the chapel was broken open, and waves of men started jumping through the windows, charging at, and fighting the Followers of Thaleena, with such confidence behind every swing of theirs, as if they were attacking cornered rats!
The followers fought back. Fireballs, Thunderbolts, and even the wooden pews flew around the chapel! The followers put up a good fight. They were skilled in swordsmanship, but they were Mages, above all things, so they weren't waiting around to be slaughtered.
There even was a Gravity Mage within the sixty followers, who used his unique abilities to throw the long wooden pews, or seats, towards the enemy, towards the thirty or so enemies who were initially storming the entrance!
The Gravity Mage alone crushed, and killed twenty men so far, and as for the rest of the violent enemies that had broken into the chapel through the wooden windows, he was crushing their heads into mush by surrounding them with what he called a Gravity Field, squeezing their heads with such great weight, and density that one would think he was trying to cause a black hole!
The followers were holding their own, but the enemy seemed to be prepared for this. Judging from the footsteps outside, and the sheer amount of men and women that leaped through the chapel windows, it was easy to assume that there had to be several hundred men outside! Hundreds of enemies!
"I just wanted to pray!" Clayton shouted, as he swung his sword against a group of men, "I just wanted to find it within myself to forgive you, Transgressors!"
Two men struck him on his dominant right arm, landing nasty blows, rendering his sword-swinging arm useless. This only served to fuel him with rage, and so his demons unraveled to their full extent!
In this case, his demons were the very same ability that got his family slaughtered by the King's Guard four decades ago. Ancient books, books forgotten by the passing of time, described Clayton's abilities as Fleshmancy, which was a branch of magic far ahead of Necromancy in the power-scale.
It was a dark ability to some degree, but he never used it to hurt anyone, not until now, at least.
Clayton raised his left arm, extended his fingers, and focused his abilities on one of the seven men that were trying to cut him down. He had to back away a few steps, as to simply not lose his head, but as a red essence started coming out of his target, and then flew towards his hand, the seven witnesses quickly understood that he never intended to shoot them down with a fireball.
Much like a vampire, he drained the very life essence out of his target, and absorbed it!
This in turn healed Clayton's dominant arm, and his victim withered away in front of him.
Clayton spooked the men in front of him, but he still wanted to give them a fair fight. He didn't intend to use his abilities again, and was ready to fight the six remaining men with his sword alone, but then, ten more men jumped into the chapel, and ganged up on him!
"Sixteen to one?" He chuckled, and then he shouted, "Bring sixteen more, cowards! At least then you'll have a chance!"
Clayton then charged towards the enemy, but he was hit by a three-foot wide Fireball, just two seconds later.
The fireball knocked him on his back, but he did not yelp, he did not shout, and he did not cry. His chest was burning, most of his blue robe was set ablaze, but he did not wince.
His chest may be burning, his skin was sizzling, but his arms were still working, and after this point, he didn't intend to take his enemies down one at a time. Despite his prior wish, he no longer intended to play fair.
He unleashed a blood red smoke out his hands, and the smoke blew towards the enemy, draining the life out of all of them in mere seconds!
Clayton slowly stood up, yanked the robe off of his body, and walked towards the sixteen now former enemies. He watched their fit bodies wither, and he saw the life, the blind rage draining out of their eyes as the red smoke finished its job!
The red smoke then swiftly floated towards his body. He absorbed their life force, and so, his charred skin, his blistering flesh healed in real time. He could feel the stub on his face still sizzling, but other than that, any effect that the prior fireball had on him, dissipated. It was gone.
Clayton was a sixty-four year old man, but after he absorbed the life essence of seventeen men, he started feeling younger, stronger. His back pain that had slowly gotten worse over decades, was now halved. He felt fifty-seven years old again! It wasn't much of an upgrade, but to an old man such as himself, it was equal to a gift from the Divines!
"May you rest in piss," He spat at the bundle of skeletons. "And may the Goddess Thaleena forgive you, because I won't."