[h2][color=0072bc]Bartolomeo Peckish, Hunter[/color][/h2] 
[i]Interactions: Bobby.  Mentioning: Flint[@Aerandir], Rowyn[@Kitty][/i]

A more... overconfident hunter might have believed they knew better and joined the fray, assuming that two on one was better then just a one on one fight. An arrogant one might have ignored Flint's small signals out of pride and a desire to prove him wrong. Bartolomeo did neither; He stayed back with the intent to observe. 

Of course, with the whole 'goblin invasion' that was happening having a quiet moment to catch one's breath and watch a brawl between hunters wasn't on the agenda for long. A wolf carrying a chicken of all things ran through the alleyway and proudly leaped over his head... followed by a rather sizeable horde of goblins that were chasing after their 'god' with the zealotry of true believers. In the chaos the two humans disappeared, leaving Bartolomeo very much alone and badly out numbered by smaller, more frail foes... but he had seen what had happened to those who had underestimated the horde before. 

Before making a strategic withdrawal out of the alleyway, reinforcements arrived in the form of an ex-hunter turned bartender wielding a battleaxe... and insulting him a bit but for the moment that could be forgiven because more important things required his attention. 

Under the circumstances and taking advantage of the bottleneck of the alleyway, Bobby's axe was a prime weapon to do some crowd control; Even in the event that a goblin dodged the blade of the axe, they were small and seemingly frail enough that getting smacked by the axe's shaft would knock them down and hurt 'em fairly badly... or at least put them in prime position to be trampled to death by the rest of the goblins surging forward. 

That could prove be Bobby's undoing through: Axes as a weapon drew their power from the swing, creating a small opening where the tide of goblins could simply overwhelm the old man through sheer numbers and determination before he could wind up enough strength in a swing to actually get any meaningful effect... the first one they had and in the pursuit of saving their chuckling 'god', they most likely had the second as well. 

Rather than abandon Bobby to his fate, Bartolomeo instead took a more... supportive role. Steel blade in one hand and what amounted to a silver club in the other he might have lacked the reach and crowd clearing ability that the axe wielding Bobby did, but while the old man was preparing for the next goblin clearing attack Bartolomeo would dart forward and reward the front running goblins of the wave with either death via sword and club or by being trampled by the rest of the mob of goblins in their haste. He only needed to stall the green skinned bastards for a second or two before ducking back and getting out of the way to avoid being cleaved and giving Bobby a clear crack at thinning the herd.     

[h2][color=f7941d]Draco Russ, Hunter[/color][/h2]
[i]Interaction:[/i][i] Bobby[/i]

Draco's weapon was not designed for clean cuts; It was designed with the intent of inflicting large, deep and ugly wounds on targets that were not only bigger then the average human, but also had a nasty habit of regenerating or simply ignoring lesser injuries completely. Draco was less curving his way through goblins as he was reducing most of their bodies to torn and shredded chunks of flesh and meat and bone shards with the occasional limb surviving the slaughter... as well as bathing the ground around him in goblin blood as he followed the horde that the wolf had gathered behind her.

Rounding a corner into an alleyway the goblins had traveled down, he quickly noticed that he had caught up with the horde... simply because something seemed to have stalled them out a bit. It was hard to see exactly who or what it was due to the carnage that was happening at the other side of the goblin masses, but he believed he recognized the battleaxe that was being used. Continuing to take advantage of the goblin's single minded focus forwards, Draco grinned wickedly under his mask as he made sure his saw-cleaver was fully extended before joining the fray properly by slamming into the rear of their group, hacking and tearing through groups of goblins with each swing with a health spray of blood... but always mindful of the fact that if the Horde turned around to charge him, he would have to pull back or risk being overwhelmed in a green tide.