Snippet #1480500

As the debate went on, the doctor became more and more distressed. Such meetings were not for him, especially in such high-end and confined areas. His self-mutterings began to be more and more apparent- it was his sixth sense telling him to leave, and that something was happening. He didn't know anything about the attack that would happen moments later, but Etzel nearly went crazy trying to restrain himself from flipping the table and jumping out the window screaming.

When Carlisle came in the door with a grievous wound in his side, and a single word: "Traitors", he jumped up and started shouting.

"I KNEW IT. GODDESS BE DAMNED I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP." Etzel screeched, withdrawing his syringe and leaping after Loki toward the door in a frenzy. "KNEWITKNEWITKNEWITKNEWITKNEWIT"

The assailants were many in numbers, but they had to split into small groups to target. The black-garbed man did no hesitate at the doctor's appearance, rather swung a curved blade in a overhand arc. Side-stepping, Etzel jammed the syringe into his side and injected the contents into him. The man flopped over, and moments later started convulsing and screaming like a madman. His fingers clawed at the carpet so violently it left deep rut-marks on the floor. Etzel jumped back, holstering his syringe and drawing his fighting daggers. It felt good to finally act upon his instinct, to finally let his body do as it wanted. He rushed the next assailant, knowing he wasn't going to be underestimated again. Especially after they saw the man who had been injected with god-knows-what (well, Etzel knew but it'd take too long to explain it). He parried the swing of a short sword, attempting to slash the man's sides, but the man dodged and attempted to cut upward into Etzel's arm. Etzel swung around, taking two furious swipes but missed. The man had ducked, and leapt toward Etzel's legs. The masked doctor settled his stance, pushing his center of gravity closer to the ground and rooting his legs in an angular position. The man hit Etzel like he would hit a wall, and Etzel stabbed the man in the neck and upper back several times before leaping back once more to face the rest of his assailants.

He would be lying if he said he were calm, because Etzel was not made for open combat- He was the healer, the one that dealt with unsuspecting targets. Usually his attacks had more finesse, but at this point he was merely trying to survive and after building up all that tension from sitting around while his body screamed at him to escape left him almost rabid-like in movement.

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The nobleman of Taylor Chemicals listened intently as the conversation shifted around. He paid attention, because in this regard he was part of a case to find out who killed the Marquis. All the information he could get would be good, especially if he could figure out who killed the man (as unlikely as that was). However, when the wounded man stumbled through the door, holding his side Taylor knew something was wrong. Immediately, his hand dropped to a hold on his holstered epieu, and as the doctor vaulted over the table and broke toward the door he drew it. The princess rushed the door as well, possibly to escape. The window was not an option. Hardcore Parkour was not something the weakened nobleman would be able to do, and he would be separated from the group- as well as possibly setting himself up for an ambush. His travels in Delta weren't all fun and games, you know. They taught him to be wary, aware of his surroundings. He decided to help deal with the assailants in any way he could, but engaging in direct combat with them would be suicide- he could handle one at a time at best.

He drew the short spear, preparing himself as a single assailant broke past and rushed the fur-cloaked nobleman. With a deft flick, he caught the man by surprise and disarmed him before ramming the spear into his gut. Taylor drew back, beginning to feel winded from just that much effort. He was going to have to avoid contact- but how? He saw no other way out but toward the door.