Doom was approaching, strengthening, so Hanno lengthened his stride. He did not even break it when he smashed through a pack of hexenghouls, pulling one off a richly armoured Taghreb girl just before it sank its fangs into her throat. Even as she called out in relief and surprise he kept moving, ignoring her shouts and that of be beleaguered retinue to duck under an arch just before it fell and blocked the way across the street. He grabbed a loose stone jutting out from a wall, using it to drag himself up on the roof just in time to see a bearded man and an old woman in robes dissecting a corpse atop rooftiles turned to glass. Their cries of triumph turned into dismay when miasma came pouring out, Hanno loosing a spear of Light into the cloud without batting an eye.

It dispersed and leapt down the roof before they could even see his face, landing on a beorn’s back and carving through the construct’s head.

...

His veins burned but the undead fled the pain, leaving him just enough room to push through and then… three steps and he swung, arm outstretched as the very tip of his sword brushed the arrow’s side. Enough to foul it, enough that it went wide instead of going through Razin Tanja’s open mouth. Hanno laughed, triumphant, for the tide was turning against doom.

- Book 7, Interlude: Legends IV