(I was eating wait
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Marian tilts the table down so the flat end is facing towards the guard and sits down trying to hide behind it. Fresh fear and guilt plague her as she continues crying. She makes sure the table does not impact the figure.
The guard lands an accidental slice on the new entrant into the encounter.
“What are you doing you fool?” He yells with bloodlust.
“He was compacting with the Cult. We had proof.” He says at a high tone. Considerating that he usually kept his voice milder to sound more human, this should be scary as shit.
He resists the urge to lighten up his hands and throw everything on fire, as told him by the devil.
“Look, I’m sure you have the wrong-”
Andar throws the bottle of oil into the man in mail’s face. He takes the opportunity to kick the guard square at the chest before leaping for his window.
Erbit steps out onto the streets of Adiart, tentatively. He’s very much paranoid of bumping into anyone that might want to do him ill, and so he dashes quickly past any narrow alleyways, and stands away from any crowds, as he knows that would be where criminal activities could take place on the sly. He’s looking for a shop or stall that might sell writing equipment - nothing too fancy, he’s looking for ink that will last, not anything with any special properties like he overheard a court wizard babbling on about the last time he set foot outside.
“You Fiend! You killed Thompson! There’s no law on this rock which can save you.” He yells, fire in his eyes. He wasn’t going to give up until the job was done.
The guard without speaking attempts to run the man in his way with his blade.
“ACCOMPLICE! YOU SHALL FALL THEN AS WELL.” His disposition a fire itself.
(Relatively close, but separated by a door)
(Your character ran in the way of the sword, so rolling with that)
He ran to the side, taking the sword — and shield, if he was carrying one — of the paladin even if not knowing how to use them properly.
“DO SOMETHING”
Faris finally arrives at the capital. She holds onto an unsheathed blade, and looks for a weaponsmith in the area.
He charges forward, accepting the hit of the bottle directly. He winces in pain from the kick, slowing.
“Not happening. Not now.” He says spitting out a tooth as he continues.