Atreides had his arms crossed, and was about to give the elder of the town a response when an all too familiar voice rang out, decrying them heretics and he turned, a shit eating grin on his face as he dropped his arms to his side, one hand resting on his sword, as he looked towards that blue armored fellow. Neflheim, the man was known to Atreides. Rather bold, religiously focused on purging the heretic with that massive damn cannon on his shoulder, all around unpleasant and a fellow he had not wanted to have to cross paths with, not again. This man knew nothing of control, of precision, and would burn this village to the ground if it meant taking out his targets. And that, right now, was him and the clowns he had locked away, for better or worse. Which meant they were now stuck in the same lot right now, and he sighed, glancing to the village leader, and addressed him first.

[b]"Get everyone to a safe distance, this will get ugly before it gets better. We won't hang around once this unnecessary display of force is done."[/b]

Next he kicked his heel into the ground, breaking the circle surrounding the demon whore and chains brat. Any other day he would have put more restrictions on the matter, addressing them without turning. He would know if they tried anything directed at him, the dead silence of a standoff made that much fairly easy. He scoffed at the offer of a blood pact, one did not lightly sign into any sort of deal with demons, let alone a blood pact. Blood held power, in the right hands, and he was not near knowledgeable enough in that application to trust any sort of deal.

[b]"How about this, you two try anything against me or Crimson Streak, I leave both of you near dead in a barrier circle in the woods. Let you two figure it out from there."[/b]

Without warning, mid senteance, Atreides conjured a rock pillar from beneath the Sapphire Guardian, intending to throw him upwards enough to disrupt his aim, sword flying out of its sheath, mutterings from Atreides causing the blade to erupt in flames once more. It was a preferred talent of his, and he stood, a ball of fire erupting in his hand, electrical arcs bouncing up and down the very same arm, sword coated in arcane fire while he scowled at the cannon wielding enforcer, and he addressed the man boldly.

[b]"AND AS FOR YOU! Take your bullying and intimidation elsewhere. Your purpose is little more than the Imperator's bootlick, grovelling for favor and station while you mindlessly murder supposed heretics and obliterate the villages they happen to be passing through in the process. I know your handiwork, Neflheim, and you are no embodiment of Justice. You are little more than a prideful, boastful hound of the Imperator, and that's all you'll ever be, just to be put down once your no longer useful."[/b]