“Blessed be Talos, Soul of the Empire, who teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight.” Engel murmured as Renart lined up his next shot. He squeezed the trigger and felt the familiar jolt in his shoulder, a moment later watching the clannfear catch his bolt in the chest and skid to a stop on its belly. “Be never far from me, for trouble is always near.”

“Always.” Renart said with an air of annoyance. He spotted two scamps headed his way while he reloaded. The mechanical clicks and clanks of the reloading lever gave him some semblance of comfort before he lined up another shot. A breath in and he squeezed the trigger just as his lungs filled, exhaling as he watched the scamp stumble and then slump over. The other one was getting closer. Just before it reached the line Engel had drawn in his mind, he managed to let fly another bolt and the scamp collapsed, the thing of wood and iron sticking out of its cheek.

Renart saw Engel settle back onto his stomach, letting out a breath. “Don't worry, friend, I won't let them get you.” Renart chuckled. Engel simply looked at him and shook his head, keeping watch. Renart turned his head in time to see Engel spring up faster than he'd ever. He rolled onto his back and saw Engel throw himself under the swing of a hellish looking blade in the hands of a hellish looking man-thing. Its armor was ridden with spikes and black as void, while its red and black face was contorted in impersonal malice. He found himself frozen, never liking any enemy this close. Engel brought his axe down on the face of the one he'd tackled to the ground, rolling away from head of the monstrous flail wielded by the other. It embedded itself deep in the chest of the demon Engel was just on.

Engel danced around the demon, in hopes of tiring it out, no doubt. Before the fight could go on any longer, Renart lined up another shot, struggling to get a clear opportunity. “Damn, you!”

Finally, Engel hazarded getting close, striking the face of the demon with the blunt top of his axe's head. The demon was phased, stepping back in pain. Engel planted his knife's blade through its neck twice and kicked it over. He stood over it, letting go a shuddering breath. He always did that after killing someone or something. What went on inside that man's head, he would never know. Years of knowing Engel had granted him almost no insight into the man, but so long as he stayed his friend, he reckoned that question could come at a later time. For now, Renart was perfectly content to sit and wait for that gate to open. And maybe, just maybe, run as fast as he could through it while these idiots stepped into a portal to Oblivion.