Drake/Chloe/Quen/Cian/Open
Cian had to grunt and shake his head even as he jumped out of the way of the spell. As far as he could see, the fighter would be at least as burnt as the crabs, but he had asked for it.
The toad had stopped, which made it an easy target. He had to get in close, but was rewarded by the fact that the card he had used, bloody and gory as it was, was still in his hand. These were not a weapon suited to long, drawn out fights; he was better with them than most, and the distance afforded by them helped keep him in one piece, but he was going to run out of cards before this was over if he didn't try to conserve them, and he didn't have nearly enough dice to supplement them. There was always the gun, but the idea of reloading and aiming his tertiary weapon in the rain was not an appealing one.
Feeling an ebb in the onslaught, he darted into the area occupied by the crabs, collecting five more of the cards. Two were still unaccounted for, but he'd get them - one way or another - before this was done. "You alive?" he called out to the rather crispy fighter; those blisters had to hurt like a bitch, but he was still on his feet, which was probably good enough under the circumstances.