Rodolphus & Antonin
Rodolphus was breathing in heavily of the stench of death and the singed trees and burning grasses of the field. The battlefield was already bathed with blood, and he watched as volley after volley of criss-crossed spells flew across the grass.
He turned back to the town - the fires dying down but the deathly pall of black smoke telling him that there was more damage there than he could have ever anticipated. They had brought the fight to his home - to the one sanctuary he had enjoyed for years, and now they knew of their location.
Breathing heavily from the encounters, he almost thoughtlessly cast the killing curse at the wizard attempting to aim and shoot at him with a gun. Oh ho! Lucius' spell was working delightfully, and he would reward his friend well when this day was out.
He was also pleased that the fliers seemed to have guided their aerial bombers to target their attacks on the nearby forest. But as smoke continued to rise, he knew they would attempt to come back and empty their arsenal over his home. He was beyond fury, and well into white-hot rage.
He caught a reflection in his sword blade and turned on his heel, sword at the ready and a smirk on his lips. "Antonin," he said with a bow of the head. "Why am I not surprised to see you involved in this little melee? Come to your senses? Are you finally allowing me to end your pitiful existence and take your head like a man?"