Brulk's felt his eyes stretch wide as brute hammered into his shield for the second time, his great felling axe echoed upwards until he felt it sting his shoulders. Brulk chanced a swing of his sword, low and fast, but it caught the end of the axe's haft and sprung off dealing little more than a chip in damage. Brulk cursed his luck, cursed his fates. More'n likely he'd o' cursed anything if it got his hide out o' such a situation. A third blow from the axeman send Brulk crumpling down into a crouch, but gave his opportunity to thrust forward his sword. Stabbing right on target, he felt the blade sink through just above his opponents thigh causing him to jerk back in pain. Brulk raised up his shield, but before the axeman had chance to attack he seemed suddenly taken by the idea of a sleep. Sure as shit, Mulk was standing beside him. Long knife bloodied in his hand, and a fresh hole leaking of o' the axeman's ear.
"Chief." Nodded Mulk, his voice squeeking through the mist of screams and crying. "Appreciated." snarled Brulk, narrowly side-stepping a stray spear point. Mulk vanished once more, in amongst the crowds. Brulk parried a strangers sword with his own, then watched as a spear struck through the fella's chest. Strange, Brulk reckoned, how these sorts o' fights were as unpersonal as they are. Hard to take offense, unless you end up in the dirt. More'n likely, that'd be the end o' it anyway.
He stepped back, chancing a look across the battlefield. Eglain forces had taken over South and West gates, but North was still standing. Half o' the crews fighting with Brulk's had been caught between South and West, crushed as Eglain forced 'emselves through the gates. He saw the burgundy shades o' Dunlangs banners flying high on the North, men o' his Witch stood around him. Named the Faithful out o' their devotion to her darks arts. Strange kind o' loyalty, reckoned Brulk. Standing by someone who'll just drag you out o' the dirt once you die for 'em once.
An arrow plucked into the ground beside Half-Teeth, the chattering of his knee's drowned out by the scream of a naighbour who'd taken his arrow to the knee instead. No more adventuring for him, Brulk reckoned. "Back!" He heard his voice bellow. "Back to the Chief!"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dunlang fought like a mad man, keeping pace with the Faithful as he swung his halberd back and forward. The unlucky lad who found himself facing off with him soon found his face missing a jaw and collapsed. "Ah, Brulk!" he snarled, closest thing to a smile stretched across his bloody face. "Reckon you lost interest in your wall, eh?" Khelem tossed his final javelin, it's haft jutting out of a swordsman unlucky enough to look important at the time. Brulk nodded, forcing a smile. "Right y'are. Reckon yours looked more fun!" Dunlang snarled, nodding his head. "Might be you're right. Might be time for us give 'em some fun 'emselves!" He growled. "Say the word, Chief!" Brulk finished quickly, thrusting his sword through the ribs of a stocky man struggling with Gremk.
"Send a couple o' your lads to our rear, tell Temair I need her!" Brulk didnt much like the sound o' those words, the dirt only knew what sort o' fun she had lined up for 'em. But an orders and order, and when a Chief tell's an order.. Well, he reckoned it ought get done. "Mulk!" The boyish man jerked round, his face dull but his eyes smiled out bright. "Take Gremk and Teeth, back to the rear!" Mulk staggered, then nodded. Wafting a hand to the pair and disappearing out behind. "Come on, you sons o' whores!" Yelled Dunlang, lurching forward with his Halberd once more.
