"GET TH-" The words caught fast in the third speakers throat as a barrage of violence took him all at once. 4 crossbow bolts found purchase, 1 in his shoulder, 2 took him in either eye, and the fourth took his throat. Hawkes weapon might not have cut through the guardsmans armor, heavy plate and leather, but his sheer force saw the speakers body crushed in a hideous display of brutality. At the back of the room the two whispering prisoners watched that particular death with excitement, chattering between themselves in a mixture of words and intricate finger motions as they periodically glanced at the group and back to each other. Having reached some sort of verdict the two grinned and whispered a word to their god. In the next blink of an eye they had completely vanished, leaving only a puff of brief black smoke to indicate they had ever existed. MEANWHILE, At the frontline of the death row crews ill fated rush the first of the 20 or so prisoners felt Scars needles sink deep into their chest as they rushed blindly into the smoke. A second such prisoner, their startled cry of surprise lost to the awful sound of wet gurgling as blood blocked their throat from speaking thanks to Scars dangerous knife. More stumbled or outright fell around the now downed convict as they blindly rushed the smokebomb. A dozen of the wiser criminals, hardened soldiers and bounty hunters all, recognized the trap for what it was the very moment the first of their gang cried out. Harl Claw, former leader of the Bloodied Falcons, put fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle. At the very edge of the creeping smoke his allies backtracked into open ground, refusing to enter the killing field. "Eyes open. Damn brats got invisibility. Moment they leave the smoke we put an end to em. Ricky, Arlen, Gus, got any juice left?" Harls question was met with a nod as he scooped up a fallen knife from the floor and gripped it in his off-hand. Back to Harl, Arlen closed his eyes and focused on the depleted reserve of magic he had recovered as they had been freed from their diminutive cell and the magical null zone within. A priest to the gods of battle, his silent call conjured a flickering wall of magical force between the 12 Falcon members and the smokebomb that stretched from one end of the circular room to the other. Inside the smokebomb, the 6 remaining convicts roared on with their sharp chair legs leading, swiping at everything in front of them not wearing the white jumpsuit of a death row inmate. Note: [b]Forcewall merely stops projectiles from passing through. It will also prevent the smoke from covering half the room.[/b]