Fortunately Walker wasn't facing the rest of the group, or they would readily see the color drain from his face as the flying light source illuminated countless duplicates of the heads they had just inconvenienced, given the continued chatter. He'd defended himself against the numerous arms and hands trying to drag him down from the head that had been smashed in by that flaming crystal ball, but the flare's illumination and chastising about ruining the joke. Heads were going after the others, gypsy was screaming about not watching friends die, Kite was in no condition to do anything, and outside illuminating how deep they were, the new woman hadn't done a great deal yet. At this point in time he was reminded of the two common reactions to the invasion of Istvargrad, panicked collapse into a fetal position waiting to die, and the one he took. So despite all the abstract, impossible horror he was facing, he compartmentalized the part of his mind currently having joined his gut instinct in cowering in the corner of his mind, also reduced to a gibbering wreck, and shot the impossible mess of heads a grin. [color=598527]"Sorry mate, but your act has flopped. Can't you hear? Screams are a poor response to a joke."[/color]

	The crossbow bolt thudded into his shoulder, given Walker had been distracted with defending himself and briefly forced him to drop the torch, landing by the trails of blackened ichor, and another cutting motion to clear enough room to grab it again, leaving the bolt lodged where it was. Between his exposure to the poison, the fact it would have lost some of his potency after being stuck in the thing, and his own physiology, it wouldn't have near the same effect, though he could feel the burn all the same, Walker grinned through it. They had neither the time, resources, or energy to slaughter every single head, and that was assuming they could even be permanently destroyed in that pitch black void. When the openings presented themselves, he'd strike out against the heads going past him to attack the others, while barking out back to them. [color=598527]"Delaying the inevitable here, fighting withdraw is in order. You, light launcher, how many of those do you have left?"[/color]

	The biggest problem with a fighting withdraw was, one, someone had to grab Kite, who was busy screaming from whatever gods abandoned crap had been belched on him, and two, that there wasn't more heads waiting behind them. His eyes were darting and looking for the slightest clue or indication that there was a weakness or opening. The heads had seemed to follow and track that light shot that the woman had lobbed, though it had been devoured by the nebulous void. The blunt impact of the flaming ball had crippled the one head, though it had spawned the hands he had been fighting off. The small fact they were only getting attacked from the cells, and from the front, gave the small hope a fighting withdraw could be made. He didn't know what was back there, but it was likely better than this Keeper. Walker had shifted to striking with the torch in tandem with his sword, intent on creating as few openings as possible as he kept analyzing and looking for anything to gain leverage with.