<blockquote><div><cite>Baz wrote:</cite>Baz's dry cackle rents the air. "Right with ya chief." He takes a primitive frag grenade- a stick of dynamite wrapped with barbed wire and nails- from his waistcoat. "Keep yer haeds down! Fire in the hole!" He lights the fuse and throws it. He follows this up with a molotov cocktail and a white phosphor grenade. </div></blockquote>Feign sees the improvized explosive fly past him in the air and caws a quick "hoshit!" before darting back through the door, dodging to avoid the molotov cocktail as if it were stationary in the air.<br/><br/>As he stops in the cover of the doorway, he glares at Baz with equal parts shock and annoyance.  He looks back down at his quiver, he only got eight bolts from the bodies before running.  leaving him with ten total in the quiver.  He figured some of the bolts would survive the blast, but they would be harder to find if there's rubble on them.