As nauseating as everything was they couldn't stop, not until Amuné was safe. Even as Ethan felt his heart in his throat and his ears muffled by his thundering pulse he stumbled along, not daring to turn his head and look at any of the dead men laid around the building. It was atrocious, unnecessary, and yet wasn't this what they needed? To save Amuné at any costs? Even so he couldn't accept that so many casualties were needed for it, all of their lives snuffed out for the sake of her. He held the girl dearly but wouldn't want someone to die in her place, certainly not near a dozen men or so. Almost running on auto-pilot as he walked along his head swiveled slightly hearing a growl and noticed Wyth's large frame slinking out of a door, Cecil hot on heels. That had to be the way to Amuné, she was somewhere in that direction. They were coming, she was going to be safe soon. She only had to hang on a little longer. 

Blast that mountain of a man struck hard, and with only one kick too Nymira's arms already felt numb. Gritting her teeth as she picked herself up out of the crate she'd shattered she spun her dagger in her hand and watched the man approach her, anticipating his movement by watching how his torso turned slightly to the right and his his right arm cocked back slightly, ducking and preemptively avoiding a massive cleave that sliced into the wall at her back. Kicking out on her own she struck him in the leg to try and bring him down yet found no such luck, having to duck away again to avoid being grabbed by the throat. She managed to get a small cut on his side as she darted away to make room and took the moment to try and gather her thoughts on just how she was going to defeat this man. Powerful and large, he seemed well versed in combat too, not an easy foe for one her size. Magic wasn't an option, she couldn't use it on someone without a Saints blessing, which meant this would come down to an old fashioned brawl. 

Keeping her eyes firmly on the man she watched every move he made, doing her utmost to sort the feints from the actual strikes and reacting accordingly. Duck, step to the side, knock away his arm, for a man of his size he was surprisingly quick and precise with his strikes, nothing being wasted in his movements. Narrowly avoiding having her head taken off she swung out at his arm and sliced along the forearm enough to make him drop his sword, albeit temporarily. Nymira only just managed to raise one arm to defend herself when she was kicked in the side, dropping her dagger as she was thrown across the room and into the wall. The impact was a painful one and her arm burned in pain immediately, her head swimming from the landing. With a muted groan she pushed herself up and stumbled to her feet, noting the blood seeping from her reopened leg wound and from a fresh cut on her head. Trying to retrieve her second dagger she gasped as the man was upon her, a hand around her throat as she was lifted off of her feet and pushed into the wall.

"Fuck... Fuck... They're dying out there! We've gotta move 'em!" a slaver shouted, looking at Amuné and the other prisoners frantically.

"Where we gonna move them, eh? Only two doors outta here and they're through that mess!" another snapped back, shaking his head and looking at the locked door, "They've gotta be comin' in here, aye? Let 'em come, we'll ambush whoever gets through and kill 'em nice and quick! Problem solved." 

"Right, and what about that fucking growling we're hearing, huh?" a third shot back with a gesture to the door, "They've got some big mutt or something! And there's more than one of them too! We're gonna try and fight them all in this little room huh?"

"Unless you've got a better idea yeah, that's what we're doing! Now shut your traps and get ready!" No sooner had he said that did something slam against the wall outside of the room, a faint groan following as a warning that the guard had been taken down somehow. The three men exchanged worried glances before fetching their weapons about the room, the foremost grabbing his dagger and inching towards the door. Pressing himself up against the wall he put a finger to his lips and waited, not moving an inch until the door was kicked open and nearly off of its hinges. With a wild grin he stepped out and thrust his dagger into the first person at the door, expecting to see a trail of blood flowing from the wound he made. Only there was no blood, and the dagger barely made it an inch into the boy's skin before it stopped, unable to penetrate any further. Staring down at his weapon utterly dumbstruck the slaver glanced up at Cecil, not understanding whatsoever what had just happened. "Huh...?"