After the long trip, D.H. found himself restless. He rarely traveled over water, as it still perturbed him, for the Demon Realms didn't have water. Shaking his head as he thought about his first encounter with the liquid mortals seemed so dependent on. He trudged carefully along, each step cautious, and making no sound, as his soft boots and his training kept them quite. Only a short distance away, he could hear sounds of battle, and so sped up, whilst keeping his cautious tempo, scanning the area for any kind of threat.
After a few short moments, he came into view, seeing the group and their opponent. Seeing the woman use a whip of all weapons against a creature of stone, he could do nothing but roll his eyes. crouching low, he took out his crossbows, his magic growing around him as he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them, a deadly glint filling them as he did.
"Dae'kestiam kevora mistena vae..." He whispered to himself. It wasn't magical, but seemed to mean something to him.
standing up and aiming the crossbows in one swift motion, he unloaded the cartridges for both in what seemed to be a single second as magical wind wound through the mechanisms, speeding them up tremendously. Each bolt flew the same path, as wind whirled around them, spinning the deadly bolts, and putting them on course for the creatures chest. As they flew, shadows would envelope the bolts, writhing unstably as they built up. On contact, they would create small, but effective explosions, the shadow energy eating at the tough skin. Though each one was relatively simple, he was cautious of over-using his magic. The one thing he didn't need, was to become useless in a fight. As he finished firing off the bolts, he rolled away, using his cloak to shadow himself as he reloaded the crossbows, his eyes never leaving the Gargoyle, except once, to make sure there was sufficient distance between himself and the remaining undead.