He just didn't have a reaction time at all in states like that. Not at all really. On the good side Tor didn't really feel the impact, about the only saving grace in the situation at all. He heard the pop though. His nose bleeding freely for a while after that, clearly broken, as he tried to keep his eyes open. The guards all pointed and laughed at him openly, as if watching Torrance Baker bleed was a great game.

Then the men made a point of mocking him every few minutes for a while, calling him names. Mainly focusing on the fact that he was short, common looking, and probably had a small manhood based on his physical size. Though they used more colorful language for that part of him. It got bad enough after a while that even Smythe was starting to look a little angry about it. Given their history together, Tor decided to take that as a sign that what was happening might just be out of line.

A little bit at least.

They stood till near dark. The Larval were put under a tent, but the rest of them weren't allowed even water. As night fell they were finally escorted around the city by a full company of one hundred guards in their silly uniforms.

They all had shields. All ones he'd made. Old ones from over a year before he noted, checking them all closely, feeling the fields call to him. Everything they had of a magical nature was at least based on designs he'd created. Even the weapons.

Gods and puppies, had his work really sucked that much back then? That made him wince, if it was that bad then, how bad was it still? Gah, so much to learn. The fields weren't fading at all, but they had… holes, weaknesses, and things that he'd fixed over time, in later versions. For instance, if a person were focused enough, practiced enough, they could turn them all off at a distance. Say, a hundred feet? It wasn't a sure thing, but he thought that might be the case.