Bad Enough Dudes

This whole thing was enormously demeaning. He had been awoken by Amaranta’s scream, and had been up in a flash, drawing his blade, which formed into a breaching sword, and not even buckling his surcoat as he raced down the stairs to her. She may have been in danger!

But of course she was not. Amaranta had been yelling at the shock of seeing her steed. For some reason she was angry about his modifications, which improved it probably close to a hundred-fold. Of course it would be difficult for someone with no experience to ride it, but he was willing to teach her… eventually.

So the ensuing argument did not go well. He was itching to see more of this world, places he had never seen. He fought from a losing position at the start, and only gave ground.

He was lucky he even got to leave the manor. He was now wearing some mismatched clothes, that seemed particularly aged, and no armour, or his surcoat garbed him. He folded that up, however, and carried it with him. Reminders are always needed. He was actually surprised she did not suggest he give up the earrings, which would have been the last thing he would have done.

His sword was summonable to him, but he did feel naked without the sheath at his waist. And even were he to summon it, he would still have to draw it from its sheathe. What is the point of this?

And worst of all, she didn’t let him bring his mount. He had worked on it for hours. Well maybe, he wasn’t really sure how long it took, other than it had made him tired. He had promised himself he would not be without a mount again. And yet here he was, walking down the street on a now slightly injured ankle. What if they were attacked again?

The wound on his back had healed however, and he had pulled the stitches out this morning. He still occasionally coughed blood, and the wound inside his body did heal slightly slower, but at least it was healing.

Amaranta showed him around the area of the city they were in for a few hours without event, and he was often astonished at many of the things in the city. There were well established rules of passage for mounts, as well as those who walked. They also seemed to be generally obeyed, and he did see the result of one such failure by two riders, whose mounts were now most assuredly dead.

He could have wept. Such a waste of the mounts, he had seen far too many die, receive broken limbs, from the errors of mankind. Their failure almost disgusted him at that point, but he was not Galahad. Some people just did not have talents in one direction, and he supposed riding might be one of those things.

An explosion shook the very ground beneath his feet as he was lost in thought again. It seemed almost normal compared to what he had seen today. He had seen explosions in his time.

But apparently Amaranta was not so unworried.

“You have got. To. Be. Shitting me.” She sounded more like she was tired of something rather than surprised. He did suppose she had gone through a lot. She had known nothing, and now knew much. But she did not seem to like the sound of it at all.

She pulled out a gun. His mind was already getting closer to merging with the spare one. Perhaps it was his summoning that had kept them apart in the first place. It was a strange mechanical crossbow, that carried more than one bolt at a time. And was much, much faster to reload. It was also pretty much useless against a Servant, but it would probably be highly effective against another human.

Suddenly Bedwyr realized the crowd around him was running the opposite way he was facing. Away from the explosion.

“Oi, Rider, you’re trained to handle stuff like this, right? Knock yourself out. That’s an order.” His mind had a strange sensation of wanting to hit himself in the head particularly hard. In a flash the spare mind told him it was a simple corruption of language, and simply meant to try with extraordinary effort.

His brain roared into gear. "I will serve!" His battlecry echoed throughout the plaza, but had absolutely no effect on the loping, slobbering beasts.

This was more like what he was looking for! He spun out the white surcoat from under his shoulder in an instant, and tied the cross clasp together over his arm- I shouldn’t damage Amaranta’s clothing, I can go without the armour for now. over his clothes. Then he pointed his finger straight at the sky and yelled “Who the hell do you think I am”[/color] His sheathe materialized at his waist. His own sword was out in a flash, shifting into somewhat of a medium length sword, maybe a hand shorter than what he would wield on horseback. He was not in cramped quarters anymore; he would not need something as small as the shortsword from last night.

And once again he had managed to find himself fighting without a mount. Perhaps I should inform my Master what ‘Rider’ means after this. He could probably pick up a steed that one of these people left behind anyways. But it would probably be directed by hand. He hated that, he really did.

He was quickly too busy to bother looking for a mount, as he was surrounded by slobbering creatures, composed almost solely of … something strangely familiar, but his mind blanked on it. Both of them did.

His eyes blinked once and then he slashed at the first one that lunged at him, separating its head from the rest of its body. One stroke, these were nothing. They moved together now, but he was faster as long as he pivoted on his left foot. Another strike, his blade shining in the afternoon sun, split one up the middle. Their maws dripped with prana, it was almost as if the things were Servants, or some corrupted form. One struck at his blind side, and he slammed his bad hand’s forearm into the side of its head. He heard the breaking bones as his arm connected with the dessicated creature's skull. Its bones.

These things were simple, but he could not take them lightly. He narrowly avoided the lunge of another, but he caught it under his arm and snapped its neck. His sword spun again, and this time bisected two of the lunging beasts at once. There! His sword ran through another one, as it attempted to engulf his hand in its maw. He through the corpse with his sword at another, but the thing melted into air before they collided, and the final two hounds leapt through the air at him. He slouched down, spearing one with his sword, and letting the one on the other side meet his bad arm. The bite tore into his arm for barely a quarter of a second before he brought Spatharius back at an angle through the thing’s body. It disappeared from his arm, fading away like mist.

He was holding the things back from his Master, who contributed the occasional bolt from her mechanical crossbow. There were a ridiculous number of these things, and they had started to realize his weakness of only having one arm.

“There are quite a few of these things, Emma!” He was seriously regretting not bringing the mount, as he crushed the skull of another with the pommel of his sword. The fact that he could not take off after any beasts that ran towards his master because of his injured leg made him have to focus on ones trying to detach from combat with him, which made him take slight wounds and pressure from the ones attacking from the other directions. Another slobbering creature had the top of its head pierced by his blade, he only needed six inches of strike to guarantee death, he did not need to pierce the things head to the ground. He whipped the blade out of the skull to meet another’s charge.

He was death for these beings. They would not pass him, would not get to his Master. “Should have let me bring the steed!” He shouted out finally. She really should have, this was starting to get tedious.

Matt's ears were still ringing from the explosion and the sounds of panic only added to his disorientation. The shockwave had thrown him several yards and knocked the wind out of him. He ignored his protesting muscles as he forced himself upright. Still dazed from the blow he took stock of the situation.

There were a lot of people milling around, the press of bodies rushing to escape the explosion clogging up the ends of the street as the panicked crowd pushed and shoved to get away. They were running as fast as they could but the creatures pouring out of the rift were much faster.

The tide of monsters bore towards him like a flood of decrepit flesh and bone, snarling and snapping and crawling over one another in a frenzied rush to reach the tender flesh just beyond them. Though Caster was the stronger of the two of them by far Matt made a snap decision. She may be able to save him from getting holes punched in his hide but...

"Caster!" He called over his shoulder. "Get those people out of here! I'll hold 'em off!"

The blast had thrown chunks of debris across the street and Matt shifted sideways, placing himself directly between the oncomming monsters and the retreating crowd. He had seconds before they closed on him and his eyes searched frantically for anything that would give him an edge. They finally settled on a length of re-bar about half as long as he was tall protruding from a chunk of concrete. He grabbed it and closed his eyes briefly. Power flowed through him, igniting his nerves like his skeleton had been dipped in fire. Strength coursed through his veins, iron bending like putty under his fingers as he wrenched the makeshift weapon free. An empty feeling replaced the surge of raw power as he released it, dropping the amplification back to a slow burn as he felt his life ticking away like sand in an hourglass.

"Awright, you ugly chumps. LET'S DANCE!" He challenged, leaping forward meet the assault.

Bones crunched, black ichorous blood spurted, and Matt's arm rose and fell like a piston. But he was just one man and the teeming horde of monstrosities was without end. He took a step backwards. Then another. A lucky slash drew a line of fire up his ribcage and he had to dive backwards to stop the blow from spilling his guts onto the pavement. The mob began to surround him and he back up onto the hood of a car to gain a little high ground.

When his head broke the level of the swirling melee surrounding him he caught sight of a pair of figures on the opposite end of the street, across from the ever growing wave of monsters. He couldn't make out much. But one had a sword. And he was hacking through the monsters like a hot knife through butter. He was a Servant. Which would make his smaller companion...

A magus! Matt though with surprise. And hopefully one who's smarter than I am. All thoughts of the Grail War were suspended. It didn't occur to Matt that the figures at the end of the street were, not allies, but enemies. All he knew was that he was glad to see them.

"Hey! Hey you!" He hollered at the top of his lungs.

"Heeeey! There's...There's like a rift thing! Over there! It's where they're commin' from! Can you shut it down? Magic it away!" He yelled, trying to get the Emma's attention. A creature came in with a low slash and he jumped backwards off the car to avoid it, losing sight of the duo as he dropped once again into the fight. And then he had no thoughts to spare for anything that wasn't stopping undead horrors from tearing him limb from limb.

A man was yelling. Yelling for help.

He took the soldier’s risk, and was probably going to die a soldier’s death. He would have attempted to save him were he not protecting his Master, or told to help, but now his would be a necessary death. Perhaps he shouldn’t have stayed to fight these things. At least he managed to shout something useful about stopping these abominations.

"Heeeey! There's...There's like a rift thing! Over there! It's where they're commin' from! Can you shut it down? Magic it away!"

Magic it away? Wasn’t he a magus? He was probably a master as well! Bedwyr’s sword sliced through another beast’s head. These things were pathetic once he learned that they always tried the same tactics. Every time they would leap at his blind side. Or they would all try to leap at once. This was beginning to get routine. He had not taken a single hit since the first tests of their tactics.

And once again lost in his thoughts he let two of the beasts pass by him to Amaranta. He stumbled to attempt to chase after them, but a beast saw the opportunity and bit at his good leg.

Not damaging both of them! His sword hit the beast far, far harder than intended, and the recovery was far more than intended. If the slobbering beasts were actually intelligent, he might have paid for it. But they weren’t, even the magus with the piece of building material could kill some of them.

He snapped a look off at Emma, who had managed to kill the two beasts that had separated from him with some sort of magic. So she can actually use magic! Maybe she just couldn’t heal… or something, he could not think about a plausible explanation, but then again he did not know much about Magi, other than Merlin. And he really didn’t know much at all about Merlin.

His chest heaved a sigh of relief, he had failed, but it had not been with serious consequence. Another beast died, as his earrings weighed down his ears with memories. I cannot afford to get lost in memories now! Spatharius drifted into another ravenous beast’s brain.

“Bedwyr!” Amaranta’s voice came while he batted a beast into a nearby building with his bad hand. It did not get up. Wait. She just shouted his name. His real name. In a public location. He felt a strange urge to rest his face in his good hand. He... just... Was it his fault for telling her?“ Don’t bother holding them off for me, why don’t we try cutting them off at the source like that nice man tells us to? I’ll be pulling back for a bit, you do something about making sure that guy who actually looks like what he knows what’s going on isn’t going to get himself killed.”

Excellent! Perhaps he could make up for his failure to save the woman last night, the woman who was most assuredly now dead, if it was not an empty bluff. He would wait till Amaranta was out of sight, however, to come to the idiot’s aid. Hopefully he could hold his own for the short while before he came to his aid. I hope he has something resembling luck.

“I will serve!”

Bedwyr began to thin out the pathetic beasts in front of him; it would make the running easier to do. He could barely see the young magus anymore. Amaranta was around the corner now. He planted his good foot and burst off towards the… mount that the man was standing on top of. It would probably be ridable, but he could almost guarantee the stupid thing was steerable by hand.

And yet it would still serve.

The magus was still on top of the vehicle, being swarmed, as he cut a path to the door, through the door. His good hand drifted under the steering device to commandeer, hotwire, it.

A beast burst through the open door, and Bedwyr just slammed its gaping mouth with his own forehead. Twice. It did not survive.

The vehicle underneath him roared to life. He would not use his will near another magus yet, but riding was available to more than one class. It would not reveal any more than his sword would. He broke the passenger window with the tip of his sword, it shattere out onto the pavement.

“Magus! Get in through the window!” He shouted to the man above the mount he was about to accelerate. And then he realized that the open door was by his bad hand.

This is going to be interesting! He flipped over so his bad hand was on the passenger side, and his good hand was out the removed door. He slashed the face off of one creature as he brought his right foot against the steering wheel and his left foot on the accelerator. He had given the magus enough time, he roared the car to a decent speed, he was driving backwards after all. He swung his sword at a monster that had latched on to the hole where the door was. He guided the vehicle by pure instinct. He could feel the prana of the rift, and that was where he was headed. He could feel the impact of the beasts beneath the mount.

As she hoped, those monsters were too busy dealing with Bedwyr and that mystery magus to have spilled out into the side streets, but Emma was hurrying all the same, the tips of her fingers still tingling from that show of what couldn’t have been anything but magic. Everything that had happened within the last twenty-four hours was nothing short of unbelievable, and here she was running headfirst into the thick of it all.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

What?

Turn around, go back home, and forget any of this ever happened. Except she dismissed the thought as soon as it came to her. It would never work, no matter how much she might want it to, but charging into a nest of those things was going to get her killed, distraction or no. She had enough trouble with handling two of those things from a distance, she didn’t even want to think about dealing with a horde of them indoors, in close-quarters.

She slowed to a brisk walk, and finally came to a stop, just short of rounding the last corner, breath coming in short bursts. What the hell was she doing anyway? She didn’t even know what she was meant to do after finding the hypothetical ‘source’ of those monsters, and that was assuming it even existed. Just run in there without a plan, why won’t she.

God she was an idiot.

“…Yup, definitely getting myself killed…”

Despite those muttered words, she found herself once again moving forward, slowly pushing open that battered blue-green door with the faded lettering that led to the interior of the warehouse. She found herself wincing at how loud the hinges creaked as she swung the door open, opening into the open space of the warehouse interior, the grey concrete support-pillars casting long, snaking shadows on the ceiling, shimmering green-blue light illuminating the whole interior. Undead monsters were pouring out of a-

“WAAAAHOOOOO--!”

She blinked in astonishment.

“-OOOOOO!”

The battered, burning remains of what used to be a sedan hurtled through the hole in the wall, smashing through the crowd of monstrosities, engine burning & wheels screeching, a madman perched on the roof brandishing a long metal pole, the vehicle tearing itself a morbid path as it careened into a shimmering void that those beasts were still pouring out of.

Were they stark, raving mad? What the hell were they trying to achieve? Close the rift by crashing a burning vehicle into it? To make matters even better, it seemed that the monsters on the other side of the room were finally beginning to take notice of her.

“OI, YOU GUYS,” she began to pick up her pace,” WHAT. THE. HELL.”

While most of the beasts were still occupied by the inferno blazing through their midst, it seemed that she wasn’t able to escape the attention of all of them, but it wasn’t like she was expecting anything less. Unfortunately she didn’t think out anything past that point. She didn’t even have a weapon, except for that rather pitiful 2-inch long blade in her Swiss army knife that she now gripped tightly with her right hand.

There were several of those things dashing towards her in their clumsy gait, but if their behaviour so far had been any clue, they weren’t nearly intelligent enough to work as a group. Biting the inside of her lip, she met them head on, the leftmost one coming in fastest and strongest, leaping towards her in great, loping bounds, those dagger-teeth aimed at taking her face off. Just one more bound until it was on top of her.

“…Here goes.”

With a sharp breath, she ducked under the beast, slashing at its belly as it went over her head, but she wasn’t given enough time to see if it had any effect, slashing at those shadowy tendrils that had somehow managed to wrap their way around her arm, and then hastily dodging to the right as one of them tried to bite her arm off, punching that one between the eyes before spinning on her heel and stabbing another in the face as it was about to take a chunk out of her side.

“A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

She didn’t look up, her attention was occupied by those abominations prepared to rip her to shreds. Her only weapon gone, she swung the tote bag into one of their faces. The thought of trying that spell out again did cross her mind, but there was never a quiet moment for her to focus.

It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like far too long. Getting into a brawl with magic-acid-drooling-zombie-demon-things was definitely not the smartest thing that Emma’s ever done. She was all but scrambling away from their gaping jowls, the small victories from earlier completely insignificant when there was a horde of them, with more pouring from that portal, the beasts lunging at her and scrabbling over each other for a shot at the fresh meat.

It was already just barely short of a miracle that she had survived for so long, and even more of one that she was still on her feet, but she was retreating into a corner. Even if they were mindless, the monsters were faster, more numerous, and very likely stronger than her. She didn’t even bother lashing out anymore; focusing on keeping herself in one piece took priority.

Just as she tensed her muscles again when another one of them was going to pounce, she saw, almost in slow motion, a hand emerge from within its torso. In the next instant, it had disappeared into nothingness, leaving behind a faint burst of something that Emma couldn’t quite place. Not even two seconds. A mere moment was all it took for Bedwyr to make short work of that monster with his bare hands.

She almost sighed in relief, but the look on his expression seemed as terse as ever. From the corner of her eye, she could see the car, engulfed in a blazing inferno, about to collide with the inky substance that formed the rift.

“GET DOWN!”
“Rid-?”

She cut off as he pulled her close to him, all but shoving her face into his chest. Almost reflexively, she began to pull back, but his arms held firm.

“Don’t move!” he snapped, in a tone that brooked no resistance.
“What are y-“

A deafening blast rocked the interior of the warehouse, washing the dull grey with a brilliant, blinding white, drowning the shadows with a flash of explosive energy, overriding her senses. The man clutching her tight seemed to say something, though the meaning escaped her, and she found her head being pushed down. The floor shook. Even without seeing anything, she could hear the world around her falling apart, feel the debris flying everywhere.

Something from above hit her back, and skittered off. From above. She pulled away. Winced at her arm; something had managed to scrape it, but it wasn’t anything big. Was it over? Bedwyr’s grip had loosened, and she straightened herself. Surveyed the surroundings. Strewn with rubble. A good portion of the concrete support beams had been all but destroyed. There was a hole in the roof, a giant crater in the floor.

It looked like a bomb had exploded.

She looked up. The roof looked like it was about to cave in. Something creaked, scraped against each other.

“...Be- Rider?” she said slowly, still recovering, “The ceiling.”

It didn’t just look like it was about to cave in. It was caving in.

Amaranta groaned. She had been hit by something falling from the roof. Can I not succeed even at this?[/color]

No time to think about that, just don’t do it again![/color]. There was massive structural damage to the storehouse. The explosion had shaken the very foundations and-

“...Be- Rider? The ceiling.” Yes, Amaranta realized it as well. The supports for the roof, even most of the roof itself was beginning to give way. He could not feel the other Magus’ presence within the building, but it was fading, outside. Either he was moving, or dying.
Thoughts spun through his mind as Spatharius bolted back into its sheath with a bright flash of light. Other bits and pieces of lights flickered on and off to join it. How do I do this?

A spark. The entire system of lights shut off at once, but sunlight streaming from the broken roof easily replaced it. Amaranta said something, maybe. Perhaps it had been the crackling of fire now creeping around the warehouse. He would brook no stopping him when he decided. Some sort of air burst through a pipe on the wall, intended to heat or cool the building he did not know.

He could get Amaranta out of here. Like the fight earlier, he had been thinking in the wrong dimension. The hole provided such an easy solution, but that was not the one he should take. His sword could easily cut through the walls of this place, in the direction of the Magus. It would be as if the things were paper.

The whole thought process took less than a second. He turned to Amaranta again. ”Hold on to my back, tightly.” Holding her with his hand might make her take injury from the wall structure he was about to destroy.

Spatharius came easily into his hand, a longsword now. He had no idea how thick the walls would be, so he needed maximum penetration, just in case. Amaranta latched onto her back.

Concrete snapped beneath his feet as her took his first sprinting step. Pieces of roof fell, smashing into areas he had been only moments before, one of them he even had to slide under, as his mind wandered about what piece of the wall to the street to breach.

He was going to reach the other Magus, he didn’t know if the beasts would still remain after, and the man did have his name after all, at the very least there would have to be some speaking between them. He was at the wall in a flash, he had to go slightly slower than normal, so that Emma’s grip would not fail.

Mud. Its constructed of mud, rock and wood. The separate mind provided him of something he should have probably known earlier, just as his sword began the first of three sweeping motions that sliced through the wall like butter. It was weaker than even some armour he had seen before, and his blade had cut through those just as easily.

With a final motion, he reared back and jammed his foot straight through the now separate section of wall. It burst, breaking into quite a few pieces as it flew out into the open street. The Magus was not far, he had collapsed. That was good; he wouldn’t have to chase the man. He let Emma down, and went up to the unconscious Magus. Dead? His hands reached for the man’s wrist, his gauntlet fading out, checking for a pulse, and suddenly dropped the man’s left hand in surprise.

“Command Seals!” As if in tune with his voice, the building behind him took that pronouncement to be its last life line cut, and the structure vibrated and collapsed in on itself.

He had thought him a Master before, but now it was a guarantee.

Bedwyr had been ready to instantly protect his Master, but no fragments of the building fell out. Instead the thing collapsed inwardly, with great gouts of flame. It was still day, how would this be erased from memory? How would they track all the people in this plaza. His mind had told him the church could do it, but he still doubted.

Well there was no choice now. ”Master,” His sword shortened, gleaming in the light of the sun, he did not want to do this, but it was war. What his liege said was what he would do. ”What do you want me to do about him? That do sounded particularly final. It might be.

A busy evening. Two more of the birds had joined their companion in the sky, giving Miliardo an excellent view of the unfolding events. Very important, seeing as the events were unbelievable.

The Rider's actions weren't a surprise; while it's ability to turn simple vehicles into... that was an amazing talent, one expects amazing things from Servants. What made it unbelievable was that they did so in broad daylight, without bothering to hide their actions.

They brought down an entire warehouse.

The display was vulgar. There was nothing subtle about it. Yes, the monstrosities running amok had been destroyed with an extreme prejudice, and Miliardo guessed that was sort of the point of this exercise. Not that he entirely understood why dealing with them was important; clearly it was not part of the Holy Grail War and an ill-advised use of a Servant's abilities. The Masters are here to discretely murder each other for a prize, not to turn the war into a embarrassingly public affair.

On the other hand, this suited him very much. While they were lucky that the crowd wasn't paying as much attention to them as they were fleeing in terror, The Rider and his Mistress Bastillo were very much displaying their skills to him, knowingly or not. The exploding warehouse was impressive, if completely without any sort of subtlety. It gave him an idea of the Rider's abilities to add to what was gained from the previous evening, and information is the first step to defeating any foe.

The other man working with the Rider was clearly worth watching, as well. Some sort of magus? He didn't much look the part, but it takes all kinds. If he was an acquaintance of Mistress Bastillo, he needed to be monitored in case he could provide some leverage against her and the Rider. Miliardo made a mental note for one of the three birds to follow him. Perhaps he and the Good Doctor can... arrange a visit. Assuming he survived, the lad looked to be in less than perfect shape.

More than once Miliardo cursed his bird's lack inability to hear anything useful from the chaos below. They were clearly conversing quite freely. Maybe he'd have learned something. But if nothing else, the birds will teach him one thing:

Where the Mistress Bastillo lives.

The brass birds-of-prey remained in the sky, flying in loose patterns around the battlefield. Two more were incoming, though they may not be required. Still, no reason not to be thorough.

Matt had been an avid player of full contact sports his entire life and as a consequence was not all too unfamiliar with being knocked out. For all his familiarity with the sensation he still hated it. The disorientation, the inevitable headache that followed, the bright stars that exploded black on black when you opened your eyes. It was a disorienting and scary and probably something he should avoid in his particular neurological condition. Oh well.

As always the first thought that swam into his head was "I can taste blood and pennies." The second was "How long was I out for?" Had it been seconds? Hours? Matt cracked an eyelid and immediately regretted it. The bright light seemed to tear though his skull, his pupils dilated from the concussion compounding the light sensitivity that came with the flash migraine that always hit him right after he used his powers. He felt rough concrete against his back and smelt the smoky scent of burning gasoline and charred flesh. Seconds then.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, trying to think through a head that felt like it had just had the grand finale of the 1812 overture played inside it. Reflexively he Sharpened, his senses flaring super acute. He gasped as renewed waves of pain began to report in from all over his body and he used the flash of agony as a riptide to clear his head. Mustering up his energy one more time he managed to open his eyes.

And found himself staring at what appeared to be an upside down scale model of the Himalayas. No. Wait. It was the underside of Caster's breasts. Which was nice. But of all the fantastic things to wake up to he could tell that he wasn't in any kind of condition to really appreciate them.

"Uuuuuurgh. Hoouuuurgh. Nnnnngh." He groaned loudly, rolling himself to his side and then pushing himself up to his knees. His head swam and he sunk back down, his scorched palms on the concrete. The soft pitter patter of the blood dripping from his nose and mouth sounded like rain as it splattered onto the asphalt. He coughed, then spat, then dragged a filthy sleeve across his upper lip and pushed himself upright again. He hit himself with another blast of Sharpened pain to keep from passing out again and took stock of the situation.

He let out a long, low whistle.

The entire street was demolished. The warehouse was a smoldering crater. All the civilians had fled or been chased away by the...whatever they were that had come from the portal. Demons? Monsters? At any rate something unpleasant.

"Dude, you don't do things half way do you?" He said weakly and nodded towards Bedwyr. He punctuated his words with a cough and a wince as the constriction across his mid section sent waves of fire through bruised ribs. At least, he hoped they were just bruised. Cracked ribs were a pain in the rear.

He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He thought he had heard something when he'd sharpened earlier and when he checked again...yes. Sirens. The high pitched annoying kind that european cops seemed to like.

"You two should, huff, huff, get out of here. I'm sure the cops are gonna come investigate." He said, avoiding everybody's eyes. He knew what ought to happen right now. Bedwyr and Emma ought to, by rights of the Grail War, swoop in while he and Caster were at a disadvantage and finish them off. Which would be bad since A) he was no match for Bedwyr and B) Emma was a girl so the most he could do against her was defend or run away.

"Caster, you mind givin' me a hand?" He said, raising an arm and looking about ready to collapse. "We gotta, cough, we gotta find out what caused all this." He said and began staggering towards the rubble.