Adam and Zachariah both dropped and rolled, mute fury raging through them as the gunfire tore into the front of the building, ripping gaping holes and blasting through the air above indiscriminately. Zach glanced, saw the woman painted on the walls, and snarled. The two Judicars glanced to each other, and in that instant...
They killed their own...
Unforgiveable.
Zach's features twisted as the gunfire hammered again and again, his place behind the reinforced bar granting him a protection the walls didn't, couldn't possibly exist. Where the walls were mere wood and plaster, there was a nasty secret in the bar itself. The underside might as well have been a vault, for all the armor plating the small arsenal hiding inside. The dragonbinder drew on his talents to draw the breath weapons he possessed close at hand, ready and waiting in the silence of the aftermath.
Meanwhile, Adam, simply fortunate to have cleared the primary kill zone, signaled at Molk and Tholk. Flashing hand signs quickly, he noted the faintest glimmer of fanged emerald and ruby faces nodding, and then the two wraiths were gone. Posing himself as one of the dead and cradling debris up to him as though caught in an eruption, the Fallen waited in ambush.
And yet, a third party was also rallying for these foolish soldiers. Amidst the Undermarket, the Penance was known as a relatively safe place, one where killing was deeply frowned upon. A haven. And with friends dead from cold-hearted soldiers, survivors who had heeded the call among the regulars both readied a nightmare assortment of magical, psionic, and mundane talents and weaponry, dialing out texts to the rest of the dangerous underworld center of the Undermarket. Wounded, dying, or just god-kissed lucky, the survivors of the regular patron crowd in the Penance leveled all manner of hell at the torn front of the building, most of it highly illegal should one walk on the sunlit streets above ground.
Yet more immediate, and intangible as they glided forward with menacing intent, where the twin guards of the establishment, the wraiths known as Molk and Tholk. For those who found these two unsettling employs of the Tavern, to witness what they were about to do would reinforce that opinion.
Succinctly.
They were as ghosts as they drifted into the streets of the underground, perceiving the Umibozu team as brilliant sparks of living energy among the dark, dank surroundings. They themselves, invisible, silent, stirring no air with their passage, raising no scent. Having no touch on the world, until they were among the rallying team.
Then with brilliant radiances of roiling emerald and seething ruby light, the two, hulking, inhuman, and utterly lethal forms of the wraiths manifested, apish arms scything into their ranks, claws like short swords cutting with all the ease of high powered lasers carving metal into pieces. With power enough behind their heavy blows to hurl a man across the street, the twin killers in Jegun's employ set about their most terrible of businesses in vengeance and cold fury.
