Malakii moved with a graceful flip; his robe seeming to transcend the boundaries of gravity as it clung to him through the entire movement, and as his lightly clad feet came into contact with the flooring behind the bar, he knelt to better address the bleeding and somehow-not-dead barkeep. His pulse was shallow, his breathing ragged and rough, and there was little time left before he would slip off into certain darkness. At that moment; to preserve a life not his own, and to sate his desire for knowledge, Malakii knew he had to escape the bar-prison with the unconscious man, and seek to have him healed. Whatever the cost, the life of an innocent would always outweigh his own. 

The others; the thugs and violent men who now circled the bar with eager eyes full of hatred, were consumed by their own addiction to the chemical they filled themselves with. Their focus, their patience, their every action was now dictated by instantaneous reaction and the willingness to do destructive things. They feared nothing, their hearts beat like wild horses flattening a field beneath stomping hooves, and they were too stupid to realize just how blind they were. One of them was close to death without feeling it; his heart reaching its absolute peak as exertion pushed it into a state of frenzied and irregular beating, while yet another was sweating so badly that the beading drops of salt now ran into his eyes and blurred his vision. They were mindless, violent, rage driven creatures. No more human than the one who had already left, but Malakii was not a man of hasty actions. Not even in dire situations such as that... He would wait and hold his own til the time to move or strike was right..

Which happened to be almost instantly...

Two of the men; both wielding their knives with white knuckled ferocity, lunged forward towards the Drow at the bar. Their speed and strength was only matched by their lack of control, as they rushed headlong into whatever the creature had waiting for them. Their blind fury; and the literal blindness of the largest, heaviest, and slowest of the group, would certainly be their downfall. If their raw strength and speed could be countered that was... They werent just fast, but instead with each breath and each beat of their hearts, they grew faster and stronger. More resilient and more dangerous... Malakii could feel how close to death each of them were, and yet he knew their bodies would not let go so easily as any other mortal man. This would get bloody, and it would get there fast.

As the other patron was rushed, so too was Malakii confronted by two men at the same time. One came around to the end of the bar; where the barkeep entered, and ran forward with lumbering steps smashing down on the hard floor. The other man leaped up onto the counter itself and tried to jump down on top of his would-be victim below. Had his buddy not gotten in the way, Malakii would have had a serious fight behind the counter, but luckily for him, the great brute rushing forward and the flying imbecile collided mid-way in a grunting puddle just in front of the unconscious bartender...

The last of the thugs; shaking and wide eyed, clung to his knife as if it would kill him should his grip lessen, and with a painful grimace taking his features from scared to outright terrified, he fell to one knee clutching at his chest. His heart was far too weak, his body too poor for the adrenaline rush he was succumbing to, and soon a silent death would entomb him in a visage of terror. This was meant to be over fast Malakii realized. These thugs were meant to die: All of them... "No witnesses" Malakii realized then, that not only were these men enforcers for their leader, but puppets who were discarded at will... He began to feel the rage building inside of himself. He could taste the cold and raw power that came from unbridled animosity. He would not let anyone's free will and life be taken away without cause or just reason... Not even thugs like them... Their leader would pay...