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"Hey, can you give me a light?"

"Do it yourself, Rob. You got some Focus training."

Robert holds up his cigarette. Though he's in light metal armor, he doesn't make much sound. "Untouchable Flame. Can't do it myself, idiot."

"You've got that Flaw? Yowch. What you get in return?" The other guard holds out his arm and snaps his fingers, a small flame igniting out of thin air above them. Much less armored then his ally, he too makes little sound in the dank room.

"Unstoppable Wind, Fremer. Why do you think I'm here to support you here? We're to blast anyone that opens that door, remember?"

"Yea, yea." The two guards sit and looks around for a moment, silent. That moment stretches on as the metallic guard continues to smoke his cig. "Hey, Rob, why the hell are we guarding this door, anyways?" asks Fremer.

"Beats me. Warlord Matrim said to do it, and we want to get paid, right?." The smoking guard takes another drag on his cigarette. "What's your combo, anyways? Fair's fair."

"Immolation/Backfire. Dangerous, huh?" Fremer grins at the end of his statement. "I once almost..."

A small tapping sounds from the door. Both guards snap to attention, staring at the door. A beat goes by, and then another, and then the tapping occurs again. Three taps, metal on wood, and then gone once more. "I'm gonna go check it out," Rob says.

"Are you nuts? You yourself said to 'blast anyone that opens that door', remember?"

"Aw, stuff it. You know as well as I that we're not to blast each other, idiot." Rob twists the doorknob and pushes open the door, making sure to stay inside the dim room as the door opens. A beat, and then another, and nothing. "See? Nothing there. Imagination, that's all. I'm gonna finish my smoke, thanks."

Fremer ignites the air above his hand. He makes sure that the spell is stable, that his Focus is stable, before walking to the door and reaching his hand out. Rob looks at him quizzically, but just takes another drag on his cig. Just as Fremer walks out the door, a fist-sized object blindsides and knocks him down.

The spell above Fremer's hand explodes. The explosion is silent, but violent, scorching Fremer, the assailant, and anything nearby. "By Arcadia's Might!, Was that guy a Backfirer?" The shadowed (and tall) form shouts as he steps through the threshold of the room.

Rob drops his smoke onto the dirt floor. Not worried about starting a fire in the room, he calls up his Focus, ready to smite the unknown assailant with the power of the wind. Before he can get his Focus around the image of his spell, gunfire rings out. One shot, then another, and Rob is on the ground clutching his ankle. His readied spell is washed away in the pain, as the attacker sprints to the door on the other side of the room. "Damn it, I haven't used my gun in a while. Forgot how loud it was...."