Violent shaking and heretical chanting end well about zero percent of the time, so it's time to spring into action. You're tempted to just bayonet and/or laser the both of them into raspberry jam, but figure that's probably not going to help your case too much.
Instead, your Bible flares open once more and surrounds the old man and the young woman with the power of the Word. Confused, the old man tries to touch the newfound barrier, only to recoil in pain and bump into Amelia.
The silver-haired woman seems to burst on impact, drenching him in blood as her body bulks grotesquely. Her hair becomes a mane and fur sprouts along her elongating limbs as her mouth pulls out into an animalistic snout and antlers weave a perverted crown of thorns on her forehead. As she thrashes, her gnarled hand catches the old man in the head with a massive crack and she shrieks with hurt and fury.
After several breathtakingly-loud moments, she reaches what seems to be her full size, comparable to that of the goatwolfgorilla. Her massive frame strains against the ward and her shaggy coat smoulders in its embrace. The crackle of its strain and her bestial shrieking overpower the dwindling sounds of battle without, leaving many of those on the walls desperately covering their ears.
The one remaining member of the center group, a woman ostensibly just hitting middle age, attempted to mingle with the wall group during the chaos. Unfortunately, you've got the eyes of a bloody hawk. Which is why you wear glasses.
You step over to her and pick her up by the collar with one hand, dragging her towards the struggling former Amelia. The two remaining Hunters keep their weapons trained on the beast and, to your approval, put themselves between it and the churchmen.
"You see what I'm talkin' about?" you shout to the masses. When they don't respond, you spend a few moments figuring out the timing of Amelia's roars and try again. "You see what I'm talkin' about? This shit, right here."
"It's the plague," your captive croaks.
"There IS no fuckin' plague! It's your blood bullshit that's doin' this and you fuckin' know it!" You pull her towards you and glare into her eyes so hard you can almost see her brain. "Here're yer options: admit what ye've done and ye die quick 'n easy. Don't and die like a dog."
She looks from you to the struggling monster behind her, sweating so much that her robe probably weighs three kilos by this point. You clench your free hand into a fist and imagine what you're going to do when she refuses. Punish the body, that's the key; if you go to the head, they pass out too fast. Smash the liver and kidneys and they'll feel it.
"Fine. It's true," she mutters before raising her voice. "What this man says is true."
Then you go for the knees and...wait, what?
"I honestly expected ye ta go for Option B."
"I know when I'm beaten. I saw the giants shatter your body. I'm not a fool like Ishmael." She bites her lip and looks once more at Amelia, who has withdrawn into what looks like a praying pose. "And if I can't stop you from destroying our work, the least I can do is help those I can. For Amelia." She squeezes her eyes shut, tears mingling with the pouring sweat. "I joined the Church to help people. I still believe that what I did is what was best for humanity. But I won't die for nothing."
"Ye're dyin' no matter what. Ye realize that, right?"
"I do."
"And ye realize that if ye try ta screw me over I'll hurt ye more than ye ever thought possible, right?"
"I do."
"So why?"
"For Amelia."
You regard her for a moment before tossing her to the stone floor. With Amelia silent in prayer, you can once more hear the scraps of combat outside. Doing so becomes much easier when the bloated beast stumbles through the door, leaking badly from its pierced stomach. It has just enough time to make a lunge towards the stairs before a cannon shot takes out its head and a sizable portion of the stairway. Djura and Steffon, roughed up but intact, stroll up towards you with cloth wrapped around their mouths and noses.
"They broke right after this prick crashed the party," the old man informs you. "Too split-up to make chasing stragglers worth it. Everything alright in here?"
Steffon, the first of the two to see the ensnared Amelia, gives an appreciative whistle. "That someone important?"
"More than ye'd guess."
"Good job, then. Try not to breathe too much, this thing's all kinds of poisonous."
You look Steffon in the eye, then gesture to all the churchmen pulling their robes tightly around their heads. He shrugs and drags the thing outside, helped by the massive amount of friction-reducing blood.
"Well, then," Djura breathes, looking at the thoroughly confused rabble, "what now?"
[] Interrogate the woman now
[] Hunt down stragglers
[] Regroup at the chapel
[] Speak with the remaining Churchmen
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