"Damned monsters," Jonathan muttered under his breath as he dragged yet another innocent victim off the city streets. He had watched as the pure Lycan led the charge into the village, and without hesitation had take pursuit, knowing that only carnage would ensue. He'd lost track of the girl at some point, and could only hope that she could fend for herself.
It pained him to see so many wounded, and with the battle still raging, he had no chance to tend to those he had already pulled away, as more were falling every moment. "This must stop!" he exclaimed, dropping his pouch with his precious healing materials by the wounded, whom he knew would care for it, as it was one of their few chances of survival. Holt grabbed his sling in one hand and placed a bullet into the weathered sitting area, and with practiced, fluid movements, began firing his projectiles into the fray, tagging the monsters at the weakest points to sustain maximum damage.
After a few rounds, he wrapped the sling across his chest and gripped his staff, dodging wicked claws and vicious strikes and countering with massive blows from the hardened wood in his hands. When a group of foes sought to leap in unison, Jonathan was ready, whipping out his fishing net and entangling them, taking them out of the for good with a vicious strike from his club.