Galadriel was not often thrown from her feet but the demons of Thedas had a talent for it. She was thrown back by the bulk of it and, unlike her companions, was not clad in a way that allowed her to catch herself or recover hastily. Fortunately, apart from the wear of the mark, she was uninjured and regaining her feet was simply a matter of moments. In those moments, however, the focus of the group shifted and battle was underway.

No, that wasn't correct--

She revised her assessment as she picked herself up and cast a quick glance over the field. Martel was on bent knee, his mark connected to the rift as his other hand drew barriers around Jamie and Church. Church complained loudly, something she was beginning to suspect was a talent of his, but didn't engage the demon. He attempted something, with a toss of his hand toward the beast, but quickly returned his attention to the rift.

Jamie, who was far faster to his feet than she, had charged and drawn his sword by the time she finally stood. He stepped alongside Mal and his war-hound, ready and eager for battle. All three tore at the creature between vicious swipes of its claws. On Jamie's heels, a mage moved through the fray and came to their aid. Mal's glaive struck a twisted claw and, before any of them could take further action, the demon screamed.

It sucked in breath, ribs expanding like the bellows of some foul workshop and released it all at once as a terrible, piercing sound. Its shriek rang across the veil and beneath it, resounding through everything and everyone. Martel's shields collapsed as it cut across them, shattering his will and power like spun glass. She drew her staff round, to replace the lost barriers, but the sound shifted pitch and even she was staggered.

For a few seconds, it was all anyone could do to cover their ears and recoil from the creature.