[WP] After falling in and out of consciousness for some time, you find yourself in a moving car. The first thing you hear when you wake up is: "How did you even get in here?!"

...

Palatine of the White Cloak felt neither noble, nor holy as his eyes opened to the pounding sound of blood in his ears and the roaring of thunder. Distant cries of anguished shouts and screams sounded, terrible enough to make him wonder if he'd died faithless, but he soon thought better of it.

He was still alive, and by the light and all that was holy in the moral world, did his head hurt. Everything hurt actually, but in a more tolerable manner. A way in which he still drew breath among the living and not the ghastly heaves of the braying dead. The soon reached conclusion that he had awakened alive, however injured, came quickly.

Considering the agony upon him, Palatine felt confident that both his arms and shoulder felt terribly bruised, perhaps broken even with the magics of protection he had laid down upon his own person before the blow that defeated him. He could feel assured that he'd stood his ground, even against such a terrible monster. What demon-beast might willingly decide to attack the Capital of Doterra's Holy Faith, Palatine could only imagine- but he knew he'd done his duty. Should death take him shortly, he could meet the gods with pride.

Still, he was not dead, nor did he seem to be dying when he considered the agony upon his flesh rationally. Though his sight was blocked off, black as the deepest darkness, he knew that his ankle was also undoubtedly twisted to severity- and somehow Palatine also knew with certainty that his feet were above his head. Perhaps he had been thrown aside, to land poorly?

It was in this dim state he heard the voices.

"How did you even get in here?" A husky shout (from what sounded very much like a man yelled) muffled out from somewhere behind Palatine, a hand jabbing at his calf roughly as it repeated "*How the fuck did a priest get in the car?"

"Wow- look: It's a really important priest too." A female voice sounded, words growing louder as they seemed to shift towards him in the darkness. "See the robes, thick silk like this? I've seen some of this for sale before- I'd bet dozens of Gold pieces, just for what he's wearing."

"Oh, hell no-" The man shouted as a primal sense of motion shifted, tremendous force pushing against Palatine's body like a wave and tumbling him further against whatever cramped space he'd recently arrived. "That bastard broke my sun-roof! Look at that!" A series of distant shouts and loud clangs crashed loudly, like metal upon metal, "And now his friends have stuck swords in the hood! God-damn it! Lars, throw him out!"

A hand roughly shoved Palatine's legs, pushing him back to crumple against what felt like soft and cushioned leather. An odd resting place indeed.

"What?" A younger voice sounded, in front of Palatine this time, but with disbelief evident. "Throw him out? You mean outside the car?"

"YES!" The man yelled, another series of clangs and shouts ushering over the strange whipping howl of wind. To Palatine, it almost seemed as though it were a window open atop a high-tower of the Church, air cutting against the the edge of glass or stone.

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"No way! We're going three times as fast a sprinting horse- he'll die!" The younger voice sounded horrified. "I can't murder a priest! You do it!"

"God-damn it Lars, I'm driving through a battle here! Just open the side door and pitch him!" Another heavy forced swerved, crumbling Palatine face first onto whatever floor seemed to be beneath him. Pained as he was, it took little logic to discern that the talk which surrounded him did not seem particularly favorable to Palatine's well being.

"No way! We're going too fast- he'll die!"

"Sola! Eron! Sandra! Julius- One of you! If Lars won't do it, someone else needs throw him out!"

"Look, I'm not doing it." The female voice spoke again, and Palatine felt a silent relief as the words reached his ears as he detected her conviction. So there was at least some folk of respectable character in this terrible place. "At least not before we take his clothes. I'm telling you those are worth at least half a year of sleeping in a nice bed."

Terror filled his very bones as Palatine tried to speak, moan escaping from his lips in place for words. "Ooooaaaooo..."

"Jesus Christ! He's really still alive?" The husky voice shouted in disbelief. "How the fu-" A heavy crash rocked Palatine into the air, throwing him heavily back down into a cramped space that smelled deceivingly like wet-boots. "SHIT! Now there's a fucking sword stuck on the grill!"

"Oh God! He's on my feet!" The younger voice shouted out again. "OH god! What do I do?"

"For the love of- JULIUS! ERON! SANDRA! Lars needs help in here! Switch back with him!" The man shouted, edges of desperation forming along his words.

"Busy! I can't let go or they'll fall out!" Another young voice pitched in their reply, exhausted.

"Busy!" A deep voice shouted through gritted teeth. "Casting!"

"Also busy!" Another woman shouted, before the resounding crack of thunder and lightning smashed against Palatine's ears.

Muffled in cloth and wet-boot smell as he was, Palatine was absolutely certain he heard a chorus of voices cry out in agony before the sound was carried away by the whipping wind that seemed to sweep through around him.

"Lars, take of his robe already!" The first woman's voice was back, almost hungry in tone. "I'll split the coin with you, Jake and the others can sleep in the stables."

"Hey! Wait a second" The husky voice shouted in protest. "Sola don't you dare-"

"Do it Lars!" The woman cut him off, and Palatine felt a pair of hands grip at his robe, pulling roughly up on his aching body, "Take his clothes!"

"Lars just throw him out! To hell with the clothes! Pitch him before he casts some freaky-ass Church Magic at us!"

"Ah, a wonderful idea." Palatine thought suddenly, as he began to quietly mumble just that. Curse these sinners, not one salvageable soul among the entire lot of them.

"Will you really split it with me Sola?" The younger voice asked, a second pair of hands now pulling at Palatine's robes, rudely and painfully jostling him. "Really, really?"

"LARS!" The husky voice shouted again, disbelief evident. "Don't side with her! She'll betray you! She's going to spend it all on bathes! She'll sleep in your bed and make you lay on the floor- or worse!"

"You only sleep on the floor when it's too warm! And what's wrong with bathes?" The woman shouted, unbelievable strength now ripping at his robes, pulling them over terribly aching shoulders and arms. Palatine felt himself rolled over helpless, darkness shifting in his vision as his clenched his eyes shut to focus on his quiet chant. Damn these sinners. Damn them all to hell.

"LARS! Throw him out!"

"Take his shoes too Lars! Those too!"

The darkness was pulled back with a flash of daylight as his robes were forcibly yanked from his agonized flesh, but Palatine opened his eyes with a grim smile to stare back at the faces lurking overhead; a young boy and what appeared to be an elf eyed him with notable apprehension. Above their heads was a strange broken window, clouds and sun peering in as the cold wind whipped through.

It mattered little though: His chant was completed.

Sucking all the air which might fill within his lungs, the white glow of faith and magics brimmed beneath Palatine's skin. The horrified stares that greeted him upon his enemy's recognition was more than satisfying, as he shouted the spell aloud:

"HOLY-LIGHT! STRIKE DOWN MY ENEMIES!"