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Sparkle didn't move a muscle. Not a twitch of sound, nor a flicker of motion. Nothing to betray the illusion that she hadn't awoken from her forced state of unconsciousness. She kept her eyes closed, and let herself breathe as naturally and slow as possible. Keep up the illusion...focus...concentrate... She opened up her senses to the room, letting the sensations feed her the information to paint the picture in her mind. Her ears perked, suckling in the every sound that was generated around her. The rodents were still in the room with her. Praying quietly. More sounds on the left then the right. More rats sitting over there...how many had there been in the beginning? Thirteen. She had counted thirteen before they grabbed her. Eight on the left, four on the right, minister in the middle. It was just a guess, but if she were going to make a brake for the exit, right was the direction she'd have to go.

Next was touch. She was still fully clothed, no rape had been committed and it felt like her personal belongings were still hidden in the multitude of pockets on her jacket. She'd been gagged with something that tasted like cloth. Guess they had enough of her spouting spells, making escape that much trickier. She was suspended somehow ...her arms and legs were stretched out in the air- in the shape of a T...a cross...they were going to burn her. Bound with itchy feeling rope, olden stuff, tightened when wet, loose and scratchy when dry. They tied her at her wrists and at her ankles. They hadn't counted on her mother being an escape artist. Hadn't counted on her daughter to be her protege. With no sound of effort and no movement other then the slight occasional tense of her right arm, Spark began to focus on the need for her to escape. She began to formulate a plan and in the meantime, popped the knuckle of her right thumb out of her joint. The pain was intense, but she could handle it, hold onto it- use it for focus and dissuade it from ruining her concentration. With her dislocated thumb, she could tug her right paw free when she needed to do it. It would take some effort, and she'd have precious little seconds to complete the maneuver when the time came, but she wasn't christened with the title "Dazzler the daring" for nothing. She was fourth in the family line of magicians, and she was going to live up to that title, even if it killed her.

She'd been trying to avoid the sensation of smell ever since her consciousness lazily drifted back to her. She didn't need it to tell her what had happened, but it was there, pronounced and angry. Demanding and bitter and assaulting her senses with a demand to be acknowledged. It was the scent of burnt fur and charred flesh. Suffering and torment. They had burned the coyote alive. The body was somewhere very close by- maybe right underneath her, maybe to one side, the perverse scent of fresh death was too much for her nose to follow accurately and somewhere deep in her head, she was thankful for that.

Even with the death of the coyote lingering in the air, she kept still, breathing in slow gasps the way she had been before, keeping movement to a minimum and trying not to gag on the horrific smell invading her nostrils. All of her thoughts of escape melted away as a slow burning rage boiled in her stomach. She was going to avenge that poor woman. Thoughts of dashing for the door turned to notions of combat. Violence won out over personal preservation and the tingling buzz of magic danced across her fingertips. She was going to have her vengeance. She was going to make them pay for what they did, damn it! She just had to wait for the right moment. The very thin second when she could spring some dark and sinister spell to make them all pay for what they had done. Her illusion of unconsciousness faded the instant her eyes opened in shock; the shocking sound of wood splintering in anger announced a presence from the other end of the room. The door had burst open violently...

The rats were sitting, waiting and praying quietly, watching for the wolf to awaken when the doors to the church tore themselves apart with a sudden force just outside the building. It entered almost casually, walking with a purpose and riddled with intent. It was dressed in a long, black duster- the kind they used to wear in bandit movies in the old west. His body was lithe yet comprised of muscle that bled through the leather chaps he wore along his legs and the dark dirty tatted white shirt he wore along his torso. He had a fedora over his head, but by the ears, muzzle, and nose, Spark could tell it was a coyote. Male. But what drew her attention- and everybody else in the room, was the bright, gleaming silver six shooter he held in his right paw. For a few moments, there was silence. He stopped cold in the middle of the room, staring at the scene in front of him, taking it all in. Nobody moved a muscle. No voices heard, no sounds spoken.

The starting flag was invisible, but when it flickered down in front of everyone they all saw it; the coyote and the rats all dashing into action at the same time. The first shot rang out like a bomb going off, echoing across the hollowed walls of the chapel and rebounding again and again and again. The rat closest to Spark and furthest from the Coyote toppled over while a splatter of hot gore painted the floor in front of her. The next burst of gummy brain matter and pinkish flecks of skull came from the mouse closest to the coyote, yet furthest from Spark. He was a trick shot of some kind. Maybe a sharp shooter. Both shots had been through the skull, right between the eyes, and both shots required only a second or so between the aiming and the pulling of the trigger. He was like some bizarre action hero intent on rescuing the damsel in distress and putting a stop to the villains who'd kidnapped her. She also noted that he didn't waste any bullets. No firing wildly until he hit something like they did in American movies. No cover fire, he took the shot when he could and he made sure it counted. The rats swarmed over him now, forcing him into melee combat to better evade the blasts from his pistol. With three of them on one side and two on the other, they didn't take turns like in the movies. They didn't wait for him to cleanly dispatch one before moving onto the next in sequence while patiently waiting their turns. They tried to jump him all at the same time.

Surrounded by enemies, Spark had anticipated her would be savior was about to disappear under dirty robes and angry fists, but he surprised her yet again with his next action. As if he'd been in close combat situations before with a long ranged weapon, the coyote threw an open palm out and grasped at the rat closest to him. Successful in his grab, he wrapped his fingers around the back of the rat's head and pulled him close and at the same time, brought the butt of his pistol down into the side of the rodent's neck with a sickening crunch. The rat immediately went limp in his arms and the coyote held him against his form, using him as a make shift shield while at the same time using the body to conceal the aim of his gun- which worked surprisingly well when he fired off a shot and caught the next rat by surprise- right between the eyes. Meanwhile, Spark had been working feverishly to peel her right paw free of the bindings that held her down, and finally managed to do so with a shudder of pain. Without any extra limbs available to her, she couldn't pop her joint back in, but at the moment, she'd have to deal with the discomfort. With no time to free her other paw, She reached up to yank the cloth gag from her lips and launched her fingers towards the group of rats that surrounded her rescuer.

"YANK!" She called out and a bright yellow cord of energy exploded from the palm of her paw. It snaked through the air, aimed at the back of one of the three rat's the encircled the coyote and coiled around his body like a serpent. The instant it touched it grew tight around his being and the cord yanked itself back towards Spark, hauling the poor creature off his feet and dragging him across where the wolf was hanging in a tumbling bouncing collection of painful looking yanks. For a moment, the coyote and the two rats left watched in surprise as their comrade was helplessly dragged across the floor. The starting flag flicked again, and the three drew into motion immediately. To Spark's terror, the rats had the coyote in a pincer, one to his left, and one to his right, and the one to his left delivered a clean punch that seemed to rock the coyote's bones. The one on the right, immediately took the opportunity to strike at the coyote's paw- the one holding the gun- and knocked the weapon from his fingertips to the floor. More rats began to swarm towards the disarmed coyote and the one who'd knocked the gun from his paws picked it up, and pointed it towards him with a sneer.

"Oh no you don't...MAGNET!" Spark called from her position on the cross, aiming at the gun, and hoping she was close enough to effect it. Luckily, she was just within range and instantly, the gun tore itself out of the rat's grasp and clung to the floor of the room. Had Spark managed to practice further with the spell, she could have drawn the gun directly to her paw, but for the time being, it was good enough. Unfortunately, Spark had been so focused on the rats, the gun and the coyote, she sadly failed to notice the priest, whom had gripped a torch from somewhere and advanced on Spark's blindside. Intent on vengeance for what she'd done to his face earlier, he lit the beckon and moved towards her with narrowed eyes, reaching back to club her side with the blunt device.

"LOOK OUT!" The coyote called suddenly and Spark's head whipped to her right. It was too late. The scream was heart wrenching and Spark whipped and squirmed wildly in her bindings while the rat bashed her side with the torch.

"GAHHHH...FUCK! IGNIGHTE!" Spark snarled using the pain as a catalyst of concentration for all the spells she'd been casting. The flame flickering from the end of the torch the rat was holding suddenly exploded, lighting the rodent on fire entirely as well as the hay around Spark's legs. Things where quickly spinning out of control and Spark desperately reached over to quickly pry and tug at the knot holding her left paw hostage. Quickly, quickly, even without full use of her thumb, she could manage. She'd trained for this very moment dozens of times in the past under the watchful eye of her mother. Dozens of knots ripped and bounced through her head as she described the shape of the ropes through touch. Delicate, dexterous fingertips began to loosen and tug. She wasn't going to play damsel in distress for some would be hero if she could rescue herself. Moments passed, an eternity in seconds, but when she had loosened the binding enough for her paw to slip free, she did so with startling ease.

By now the smoke was too much, and the fumes had begun to choke her voice and sting her eyes. She couldn't cast and spells in this condition, but with both her paws free, she still had a chance. Ignoring the growing pain from the flames beginning to lap at her toes, she wildly began to wiggle her hips, digging her ankles into the flesh searing ropes that held her down. The flames weakened the bindings, and with her arms holding onto the cross for support, her eyes widened when one leg suddenly popped free. Sweet mother of magic, she'd done it. She DID it!! She drew her second leg free and with both of them, bounced off the burning cross and crumpled to the floor, rolling into a small, choking, sobbing ball, and lying on her back, trying desperately to suckling in sweet, refreshing air that wasn't there. Still, for the moment she was safe. It lasted for a moment.

Glancing up, she saw the coyote struggling with two rats, while three lay around him on the ground, obviously dead. There was a gun a few feet away from her- perhaps disarmed by one of the rodents he was fighting with, perhaps not. Didn't matter. She made a mad dash for it, crawling towards it on paws and knees and stopped when a black, badly burnt foot stepped on it moments before she could grasp it in her fingers. There was a second of realization, then the full on sensation of horror, when Spark glanced up and realized it was the priest that stood in front of her. He seemed badly burnt from head to toe, his eyes glaring with hatred and his body was twitching and trembling where he stood. But he was standing. And he was mad. He reached down to grasp at the gun and cocked it, pointing the muzzle at Sparkle's forehead.

"Let me even out your face. " He whispered quietly. With the smoke in her lungs and her body tired from the constant casting she'd been doing, Spark couldn't find the strength to muster another spell, not when she knelt, slack jawed and wide eyed. Jesus Christ...she was about to die. After all that she'd done, and went through- death defying escapes and near misses...she was about to die. She wondered, in a split second of abject and absolute terror that if she died in hell while alive, would her soul be trapped in the same suffering pit?

She closed her eyes this time. This time there was no hope or any savior, or any sort of way out of it. There was nothing that was going to rescue her, and with the coyote struggling with the rats some several feet away from her, it was the end. She knew it. She could feel it. This was it.

The sound that rang through the church, shaking its very foundation wasn't from a pistol, or any sort of fire arm. It was a roar...A roar from something alive and hungry. Opening a single eye, Spark let out a quiet breath of relief, surprised she hadn't been shot. No, now the priest had turned the gun towards the ceiling, staring in absolute horror, just like everyone else in the church. The ceiling crumbled and gave way like dried playdoh, broken and shredded and torn, easily ripped from the church by a creature that would surely be present in several of Sparkle's dreams to come. It had only four legs- large terrible, pointed legs like an insect, the body of what seemed to be an ant, and the head of a giant, sharp fanged skull.

(Which looks delightfully similar to this little guy http://www.pholph.com/strip.php?id=5&sid=1645)

They stared at it. It stared at them. Everybody screamed. Spark was on her feet almost instantly, tearing towards the back door, not even bothering to look back or care that the priest who was about to feed her some lead aspirin had been torn in half, his upper torso dangling from the monster's lips, while his legs and lower half slumped on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Didn't matter. Spark really didn't care anymore. Nope, she was done. She was gone from this place. She gripped the handle of the back door and swung it open, giving a deep sigh when she noted the debris from the roof the creature had thrown blocked any possible chances for escape down this path. Slowly she turned around and looked up, staring into the soulless black pits the creature had that resembled eyes. It was staring at her- it was angry that it's meal had tried to race away. Spark let her shoulders slump in defeat.

"Seriously?! A boss fight with no save point? I fucking hate this place. "Sparkle muttered quietly to herself.