For most of the time spent after his part in the interrogation, Magnus had remained quiet and uneasy. He didn't like the idea of torturing someone for information, no matter who they were. But if it meant finding information about whoever these people were, and potentially saving lives, he would not interrupt it. He certainly wouldn't take place in it either, but even standing aside and allowing it to happen sent a feeling of guilt through him. While the torture was occurring, Magnus remained seated on an old table nearby, a hand clasped over the lower half of his face as he eyed the stairwell.<br/><br/>He had half a mind to interrupt the session, to try and see if there were another way to get information without dehumanizing their prisoners, but by the time he was ready to stand up and go do something about it, the others had already finished. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding for quite a long time as he pushed himself off the table, approaching the group to see what had been learned. He carefully stepped over Bellant's tail when he passed by the drake, making sure not to step on it. He couldn't imagine it would've been pleasant if he had.<br/><br/>Atisha mentioned turning the prisoners in, which gave Magnus some relief. At the very least, the torture hadn't turned into murder. Even if they were dangerous, and had attacked him and god knows how many others, he would have felt disgusted with himself if they had been killed. He was about to ask a question when he noticed, just barely, a strange 'pulse' come from his necklace. He tugged it from beneath his cloak and looked it over, frowning in concern when he noticed it was moving of its own volition, if only slightly. The blessings on it were reacting to something, a sudden influx of dark presence.<br/><br/>He swiftly approached one of the windows of the shop and peered through the shutters, his eyes level with a small, missing piece of wood. On the far end of the street, he saw a group of hooded figures. One of them was wielding the sword that he had sold to the Alftari assassin earlier in the day, and rather than armour, one of them was dressed in a long robe. At his feet, a canine was walking. The thing was huge, nearly the size of a bear, with fur that seemed unnaturally black. Betraying its otherwordly nature, the beast's head bore a pair of curved horns, and an eerie glow came from its eyes. Magnus immediately recognized it as a hellhound. A minor demon, but a very dangerous beast nonetheless.<br/><br/>"Everyone," Magnus spoke up, looking away from the window. "We've got company. Four men and a demon." He pushed his cloak aside as he reached above his shoulder, grabbing the handle of his hammer to pull it from its sling. He readied his weapon, holding it in two places along its pole, and continued to watch as the hooded men and their summoned familiar approached. He recalled the fighting style of the man with the sword, both his use of throwing weapons and psionic magic, and tightened a belt on his cuirass to bind the leather closer to himself. Getting stabbed once was more than enough, and he didn't intend to be nearly killed a second time that day.