The Wolf was angry, and the reason was easy to discern. Foes that presented no challanenge were little better than no foes at all. Foe's was too high a term for this 'League of Shadows' though, prey was a better description for them, but even as prey they were lacking. The Wolf was left tense and uneasy, with no outlet to vent his rising emotions. He stalked the empty hallways of the census building, hoping to find more sport but knowing his searching was in vain. There was little left in this hollowed place save blood and pain. He though he scented the runt, the one the Man called Jinayah, at one point but then the smell was gone, to be swamped by the metallic stink of dead-mens blood. Even if she had been there she wouldn't have presented a challenge. The runt does not worry the Alpha. 

The heat of battle was cooling now, and the Man was trying to wrest control back from the Wolf. Usually there would be more of a struggle for control, as the Man so rarely allowed the Wolf have its way, but the body was starting to hurt now, as adrenaline faded and left the muscles tired and weary, a feeling the Wolf didn't particularly care for. Let the Man deal with it, the beast decided, retreating back into the safe numbness of their shared subconscious. 

Magnus came to the fore with a gasp, the first sensation upon regaining control of his body being pain, sharp and intense. His wounds had sealed, for the most part, but the agony went deeper than the skin. It was like a deep frost spreading in his muscles and organs, making him feel equal parts sluggish and dizzy. He'd never felt like this after a fight before, never had to deal with such a weakness. He staggered, falling to his knees with his hands thrown out to support himself. His right hand came down on something hard and solid, the blade of one of the assassins swords. The metal made a shallow cut in his palm. The Wolfman took a minute to compose himself before rising, the sharp pain of his cut hand retreating to become a dull ache. Then, as it was passing, his hand began to numb, just like the rest of his body. 

Poison on the weapons, he realised with a start. Granny must have told the League about his ability to heal, so they had come prepared for him with a poison that would infect his system, wreaking havoc from within. He couldn't even tell if it was fatal or not. He couldn't think straight, thoughts confused and jumbled, but he had the sense that he was missing something, or maybe forgetting some important detail. Then it hit him. Gabe. 

Gabe had been hit by the weapons too, struck with the same poisons, and if it was having his much of an effect on him then there was no telling what had happened to the pyromancer. He staggered to were he had last seen his brother, a sense of growing dread that threatened to swarm him until he scented Jinayah on the current. He didn't waste any time wondering on how she had known where to find them, not now will time was short, instead following in her path, as quick as his leaden limbs would allow him to move, only stopping to pick up one of the assassins weapons.