Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-7489529-20151003120809/@comment-26571677-20151009231659

Amilanthior had five seconds to act before the shit hit the fan. Two choices, take both of them down, or retreat to a safer area. Five. The better choice was the second. Four. But it might risk the failure of his mission. Three. Make or brea-shit. Two. He'd fallen into a trap. One.

Leaping and strafing from side-to-side, trying to desperately avoid the bullets being shot at him, he tried to find cover. Two WF members were in front of him, bearing swords. A punch and a headbut, one for each of them, and they were gone, their minds already unconscious

That was the first couple of casualties, he supposed. But he still grimaced, hurting humans was always different from slaying Grimm.

No time to be distracted though, he had bigger problems, the gunfire had eased down a little, probably because they were reloading, but bullets still rained down on him from the skyblocks.

He looked for possible cover, this was getting messy, when he spotted a shelf. He ran and leaped behind it, only to knock heads with something or someone. Rubbing his aching forehead, he turned to him and said, "Mate."