Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150708041712

(Wow, you did NOT just go there...)

If Azulius hadn't been busy driving, he would have double facepalmed. Not that Fritz was singing during a fight, though. Uncle Trigo was famous for singing his drunken lungs out during a scrap, but at least he went with Blank Sinatra, drinking songs old enough that no one knew their author, or some other worthy classic. Not this. Still, it would be rude to sit out on the fight just for bad choice of music, so he brought the truck to a stop, removed the keys from the ignition (it would look really bad for the Dawnies to steal back their ride), and began firing an ice Dust spray into the mob, trying to harmonize with his best baritone.

"Let it go, Let it go!  You'll never see me--"

*BOOM!*

=
After dispatching his last group of attackers, Tomillo had been using the tanker as cover as he tried to stop the bleeding from whatever bullet had taken a nice chunck out of his dog ear. The cultist who walked over to the truck didn't even notice him, probably since he wasn't screaming nonstop like before. The young mobster wanted to take the cultist hostage and squeeze him for information, but he remembered that these guys were using deadman switches before he did anything stupid. ''Kind of strange, though, that this guy's not helping his buddies, just standing there, mumbling something... Hold on, is he praying? Some kind of pre-suicide bombing prayer?''

Not taking his chances, he riddled the cultist with ice bullets, and the bomb vest remained gratefully unexploded. "Sorry about that, slick," Tomillo shrugged sheepishly. "If I knew that language's word for 'Amen', I would have waited 'till that." Five seconds later, the other cultists exploded, and Tomillo charged into the dust, any pain or fatigue he felt immediately forgotten.

It didn't look good, to be honest. Cordera had been closest to the wall, and she was still half-buried in rubble. Blaine was a few feet away, clutching a large shard of ice sticking out of his shoulder, trying not to show the pain. Scarab was further back still, but he had been the lowest on Aura from trying to heal his burns, and he had grazed a brick to the head and gone unconscious. Barely not-panicking, Tomillo tried to start pulling rocks off of Cordera when he felt a hand at his shoulder. He almost turned and shot the tall, sharply-dressed man full of holes when he recognized the family resemblance and, more importantly, the Cardamom medallion in his hand.

"Oh, scared me there, sir," the dog Faunus apologized. "Ain't you..?"

"Azulius Cardamom, yes," the man in blue replied. "Violet's brother.  I'll help Cordera, you use this," Azzie threw Tomillo the packet of Viton that Stahlfritz had thrown him earlier "around that guy's spike wound." He pointed at Blaine. "Don't pull it out yet, it's helping keep the blood inside where it belongs.  Just put some of this around the entry and exit wounds."

Tomillo nodded, and jogged towards his teammate, but not before checking that Scarab was still breathing and heart-beating like he should.

"And use a bit on that ear!  You're bleeding everywhere!" Azulius called back, before signalling Fritz. "We've got wounded.  Call Vio and tell her to get a Bullhead here and call up a Doc or two."

(Hope the POV-switch wasn't that bad.)