Methuseld was content to watch their armored, magicked knight smash his way through hired muscle with as much effort as a rhino needed to smash through some curtains. The men fell away off the dock, some picking themselves up and running, some favoring the water, and others for whom the choice was already made. One particularly determined-looking fellow managed to climb up the slimy wet support of the dock, but could only show his head before a swift armored boot to the head from Methuseld sent him back from whence he came.<br/><br/><em>"Yessssss..."</em>Came a familiar hiss.<em>"Do more...You know what I want - succumb and it'll be easier for both of us."</em>A chill went up Methuseld's spine, then back down again. For a moment the warrior shuddered as a sliver of darkness slicked its way over the back of her armor, locks of hair turning shades of black. But in a flicker, it was gone. The shudder gone, the voice gone, the weird light display, of which Methuseld was still ignorant, gone as well. Maybe Dean, maybe the others, had seen it, but it could also have been construed as a trick of the light, the shadow of a cloud or bird overhead.<em>I shall silence you soon, monster...</em>She responded, belatedly, to the hibernating darkness shielding her body.<br/><br/>The fighting now over, Methuseld heaved the massive rucksack of goods she'd looted from the ship and took a few steps towards the crowd just as she noticed more toughs emerging from a nearby alley. She quickened her pace, trying to catch up to the (other) armored tower and the foxy ladies before the thugs converged upon her and she had to... employ more force. Merging into the crowd, she could see one of the taller ones tracking her with determined, ruthless eyes as she shoved hard past normal every-day folks who were going about their business. A few muttered curses, some louder protests, but no one was stupid enough to challenge someone wearing so much armor when they had such a mean look on their face.<br/><br/>For the moment, her thoughts led her to only three goals - survive, survive long enough to disenchant her armor, survive long enough to disenchant her armor without killing anyone. All of these required Donovan's presence and perhaps the Dean's and the Fox's magical knowledge, though how and when exactly to let them know about the uninvited guest was a wholly different story. Silver eyes traced a path to Donovan, tall enough that almost everyone could see him through the crowd, let alone the woman stalking him, who was a little shorter but still noticeably taller than the average townsperson. She didn't look back to see if diminutive Dean had followed her or not. Due to her lack of magical understanding regarding his current situation, she had no doubt that he could disappear from sight at a moment's notice with his magic should this be required.