"Select Artigas!" someone yells.

Blai grew up in a different province with a different accent, and served with trained soldiers who did not ever say "Chosen" with a mocking lilt.  He isn't looking for the jibe and doesn't recognize it.  He's been preparing spells that he hopes will get him out of a mob to the safety of the temple (or at least the Lawful and mercifully conducted executions dealt thereby, if that's what Iomedae commands for him), but he didn't have a very specific threat model for precisely how the crowd would find him, how he'd be picked out.  In his mind it would happen like a nightmare.  Somehow everybody would just know, and decide as one to tear him apart.

So he takes basic precautions, like never talking about what he was doing with his life last year.  But when someone reads his name out of a pamphlet, he turns his head.

That's all the proof they need.

Blai won't be able to remember clearly, afterwards, most of what the screaming was about.  He hears "diabolist", he hears "Asmodean traitor", he hears "fraud".  But he did go into this situation with a plan, if evidently one missing some steps, and he has been in enough fights to carry out a plan while confused and afraid.  Sanctuary - he's prepped two, they don't last long - to turn aside some fraction of thrown punches and stones.  Qualm, one of his new domain spells, though best suited to one-on-one situations where he can get the spell off and use the time to talk the person down, not - this.  It may not be worth the moment spent on casting it against any one of these many.  Tremor Blast, as the mob closes in around him and he's backed against the side of some granary, to knock most of the attackers to the ground so he can run for it.  He knows the swiftest route back to the temple, and he can run pretty quickly on rough terrain, of which there's no shortage at the Worldwound.  He doesn't want to hurt anyone too badly, since they are quite likely not Evil (they think he's working for Asmodeus, trying to kill him might even be Good!), but stepping on them by accident is below the threshold he is presently inclined to fret about.

He had a Calm Emotions prepared too.  But he'd used it, earlier in the day, on his way to the convention: calming down a scuffle a quarter this size, over pamphlets about - cannibalism or something? - or eating halflings, which might not be technically - anyway.  He doesn't have a second of those.  And maybe that was a reasonable preparatory priority, since this hadn't happened yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that, and he can use those slots for Zone of Truth which is very much in demand at times, and -

So.  Sanctuary.  It slows but does not stop the rain of blows as the people who failed their saves back off to make way for new people to try.  Someone gets ahold of his arm and he yanks his hand back to cast the tremor, but not everyone falls, and it's riled up a few of the mob even more - someone's knuckles catch him in the eye - he's trying to break away and make a run for it, but it's very constraining to be trying not to hurt any of these people, actually - he wonders in Iomedae's direction if that's a real rule or just one he intuited to have a wide margin of error, but naturally She doesn't answer, he should have asked Feliu, why didn't he ask Feliu - he shoves somebody with a rock to the ground, and a different rock hits him in the back of the head as he starts picking his way through the people who haven't gotten up yet - someone clutches at his ankle - there is such a terrific amount of shouting.  A loose cobblestone to the ear; it starts ringing.  Is there something he's supposed to be doing?  Some handbook or manual he ought to have read by now, "how to fend off a mob if you can't channel negative energy and even if you could do that couldn't accept the casualty rates" - probably most Iomedaean clerics never have this problem -

The babble of enraged voices has attracted some attention from in front of him as well as the original knot of people he's left halfway behind.  He's surrounded.  He tries channeling positive energy, which makes his skull feel better, but if anyone even notices it doesn't slow them down.  His second Sanctuary wears off.  Somebody with a kitchen knife closes in and parts his ribs.  He feels one of his fingers break and one of his teeth wrench loose.  A kick in the stomach and a rock in the shoulder.  The knife wrenches loose and plunges back in an inch south.  And then he doesn't feel anything.

---

They hang him from a lamppost.  Just to be sure.