The old priest had his head bowed, kneeling before the grand marble altar. His lips moved in silent prayer, not disturbing the stillness of the temple in the midnight hour. Julianus Nacross prayed, begging to hear his god's voice again. It'd been about a month and a half since Torm had gone silent. From what he'd heard from the other churches in the Baldur's Gate, this may not be affecting his faith alone.
"I cast you out once, I can do so again," Julianus cried, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. He was empty, an emptiness he'd never felt. But he would fight, and fight to the last. Maybe that would bring Torm's light back to the faithful. With a speed he hadn't seen in years, Julianus whirled and charged across the temple to one of the tall candlesticks. Five feet in height, made of carved solid oak and topped with a footlong spike that a candle could be stuck on, he swept up this improvised weapon and ripped the taper off, exposing the deadly spike. He brandished this like a spear, to impale his opponent. The candles were twenty five feet away from the altar, he should have time to turn and charge back at the daemon.
"I want to talk about the salvation of a boy's soul," Agglemax the Corrupted murmured, his thumbs pressing into Julianus' eyes, "And the eternal damnation of your's."