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Zharuus hissed in pain as a bullet whizzed into his shoulder, erupting in an agonising spray of dark red blood. He bobbed out of cover, firing off a three-round burst from his rifle, which sent several of the bandits tumbling into the dirt, before ducking back down. 

The new arrivals seemed to be doing well in holding their own. [i][b]Perhaps there is hope for us yet.[/b][/i]

One of the bandits came creeping over to Zharrus' hiding place, his heavy footfalls betraying his approach. When the bandit was practically ontop of him, Zharrus lept upwards, grabbing the thug by the scruff of his neck and slamming him onto the ground. Before he could react, a long black talon had pierced his jugular, and he was left to gasp and choke as the last few fragments of life oozed out of him in a sickly red trickle. 

More and more of the bandits came pouring out from the metalwork, in a seemingly endless tide of hate and desperation. [i][b]Probably looking for their next fix.[/b] [/i]

[b]"With me, comrades!"[/b] Zharuus barked to the newcomers [b]"We'll loose them in the city."[/b]

Zharrus took a running leap, ducking and weaving behind whatever scrap metal he could find as bullets pinged all around him. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, but the junkie bandits had poor aim and shaky hands, which might just save his life. 


The old man scrambled up over a sandy bank, a bullet whizzing into the soil right next to his head, and exploding in a grainy puff of yellow. 

[i][b]That was far too close for my liking.[/b][/i]

Hoping that the group was following him, Zharrus went bolting off back into the ruins of Armahford, sprinting with all the bestial might he could muster. 

[i][b]We just need to make it back to the Casino...we'll be safe there.[/b][/i]