Not so well for the band of thieves

Ursula noted the first wave of attackers, who popped up from hidden spots like barrels and crates, each readying throwing knives. Those kinds of weapons weren't easily used... it seemed likely that the attackers had been in training for a while. This was no spontaneous plot on their part... they were career thieves who may well share the ideologies of their leader. Still, no amount of skill with the knives would make these weapons a threat towards the counselor. With a flourish, she spun, knocking away the projectiles with nothing more than a beat of her wings.

Cursing, the man swapped to three fingers, signalling the next wave.

More men came flying out from behind the crates of cargo stacked in the dead-end, each carrying knives of different sizes and dressed in form-concealing clothing. While their wardrobe was discrete, their battle cries were not, each sounding full of deep-seated rage. Ursula jumped to the air as they approached, then fanned one hand out beneath her. "Sleep!" she commanded, using the same prayer that the junior nuns had been hit with earlier in the night. Once those men were asleep, the others from earlier rushed her; they weren't going to throw more knives. Instead, they took their remaining knives and wielded them at close range.

One by one, they fell, knocked **** by sweeping blows from the non-lethal butt of Ursula's staff. To say that is to undersell the woman's own fighting intensity; the attacks landed were quite fierce, each resulting in a very unhealthy cracking noise. They'd probably all be on wobbly legs for the next couple of days, once they awakened.

In a matter of seconds, that band of ten thieves had been reduced to only its leader. "Surrender," the counselor counseled, taking a moment to fix her glasses upon the bridge of her nose and regarding the remaining thief with a cold glare. "I'm afraid it's time to submit yourself to my interrogation."

The man grit his teeth behind the cloth face-mask, then pulled out his own weapon: a short sword, the kind that knights or the loaners before them used. It looked poorly maintained, but it would still do the job... against an ordinary opponent, anyway. "You damned angeeel!" the bandit cried in genuine agitation, rushing her with his blade. His skills were sharp; he exchanged blow after blow with Ursula's weapon, causing sparks to rain through the alleyway as his cheap blade met holy metal. Ursula was simply unable to conk him **** like she had the other men, due to his impressive reactions. Part of her wondered if he might really be a knight, under that disguise.

As his blade nearly found her neck, instead merely severing her braid and causing her purple hair to fly artfully about her shoulders, she thrust her spear-point downward. As the man jumped back to dodge it, she connected its tip with the pavement, then jumped forward with one leg out, performing a martial arts kick to his gut. He coughed unpleasantly, bouncing back into a stack of crates, but keeping hold of his sword. Before he could flourish it again, she reached out to grab his wrist powerfully, squeezing until the blade fell from his hand. "Fucking angel...!" he spat into her face, staining her glasses.

"I told you. It's time for your interrogation. We can do it the easy way or the hard way," she insisted, her blue eyes glaring.

"Might as well jump to the hard way then!" he snickered. "Go on. Show me the kind of **** you angels conduct in the name of Geod!!"

The counselor raised her chin with a challenging frown, regarding the lone stranger in the dark alley with interest. How best to extract information from him and learn of this troubled history of his? There was a time- during the inquisitions- where this would involve a whip and a lot of screaming. She liked to think that she'd evolved since then... maybe she could show this thief just how much the church had changed?