came with a conjuration. Squall would find himself enveloped in what one could only describe as solidified darkness, a translucent shell reinforced with reddish aether deflecting the rounds from the soldiers.

"We need to leave! Lest we run the risk of collateral damage and casualties!"

With the arrival of more soldiers, Rytsar weighed the options of a gamble, wondering if more slaughter would warrant more opposition as opposed to a retreat for something more tactful. But until he could get his bearings, maybe wanton murder wasn't the best option.

"Get down!" A call to Squall-->

Aiming for the one middle, amidst the contingent, the soldier was cleaved down. Rytsar then followed up with a stab into the ground, where the ground erupted in black, crackling spikes rending the ones nearest to him. It were as if he were channeling dark magic as an extension of his own body.

"So much for privacy..."

Rytsar had his hand on his massive sword, resting it on his back. A low growl could be heard in his throat as he sized up his enemies, already pondering the myriad methods of baleful slaughter before his own safety.

Then came a sudden leap as he plunged into the group. -->

🔻rip in peace

🔻I too enjoy cocaine with breakfast. 🥴

🔻Scott Sterling-ass bird nerd theater kid meets the Jock of indomitable spirit.

🔻Interrupting Fandaniel's monologs with a trickshot to the face.

"Shut up nerd, check this this out!" Jecht Shot Jecht Shot Jecht Shot

Pausing for a moment, Rytsar squinted at the offered hand.

"...I suppose I can make myself useful until I figure out a way home. Until such a time?"

He gripped Squall's hand with a powerful claw. "Rytsar Iskrasch, at your service."

"A technological military with an aversion against magic? All too familiar an oppressive force I had ever seen... Perhaps it wasn't an accident that I was sent here, of all places, but by design."