Blind Fire
9th of July 2006 A.D.
The mark upon your brow shines in brazen challenge as you leap over the table sending plates and cutlery flying, landing in a crouch and then a lunge sword drawn from your soul in an instant. "Beserkers!" you shout as you charge the leading man only as the claw his hand had become slashes the air you drop under the blow and half-roll past him with noting worse than a torn dress out of it.
As you rush into the van you hear the old man cursing in... German you think, but you ignore him for the man with the left with the machine gun already aimed
towards you. The first slash scrapes along it and into his fingers, you hope enough to make him put it down. You hope wrong as the man howls in rage more than pain and his face begins to contort into a dreadful grimace, showing teeth filed to a point. .
Lost 1 Essence
Fuck, more beserkers! you cut and cut and cut again, careful not to take off any limbs or his head but otherwise aiming for whatever part of the man was in reach of your sword at the moment. As he falls broken on an old crate the wood splintering under his weight Usum shouts a warming,, just in time for you to turn and slash his friend on the arm with your momentum... not the arm he's holding the gun in.
Getting shot by a machine gun point blank hurts... it really fucking hurts. Bullets are flying everywhere, metal sparks off your armor, metal sinks into your flesh and splinters bone. He doesn't take his finger off the trigger until the clip is spent.
You take 3 Wounds
"Rōknuhōs!" you hear somehow though the ringing in your ears, it sounds like Brother Divsimar and it feels like magic, though not like any magic you had ever witnessed. If Harry's magic is like a freight train barreling at you this is barely a ripple in a still pond... going faster than a speeding bullet.
One of the madmen stops as though he had been slapped by a giant's hand while the other comes up against a Knight of the Cross. "Surrender!" he shouts, though getting only snarl and the slash of claws in return. Claws as it turns out make for a bad match up against steel armor and a leather jacket for really poor armor against
Amoracchius.
In the chaos of the fight and getting shot you had lost track of the old man until you hear him speak again and this time it is not german, though maybe something akin to it.
"Reiði éta þig!"
You can hear the rage in it, clawing at the world like a maddened beast fit to gnaw off its own limb... but it isn't aimed at you. It rushes past, a soundless scream that roots in the minds of those ill prepared for it.
Both of Marcone's goons and the young monk who had been reprimanded howl in rage and and knock over the table as the rush your rad and Brother Divsimar punching and kicking and
screaming.
As though summoned by the violence a black bird, like a raven, but much too large dives into the midst of the carnage and grabs the duffel bag that had fallen in the scuffle with a mocking caw... only to get a plate smashed into its head from the last monk sending it reeling, beak over claws.
What do you do?
[] Kill the gunman, his weapon might be empty, mostly in you, but he is still likely more dangerous in hand to hand than the sorcerer
-[] Write in stunt
[] The sorcerer is the more dangerous one and clearly the leader
-[] Write in stunt
[] Write in
OOC: You could also try to rush out of the van and say deal with the dazed raven thing, but you would have to risk getting hit by the lycanthrope you are in close combat with and you are quite wounded. 
