"Uh!" grunted Brulk, jerking his sword in a bloody semi-circle. "Dau!" He brought the heavy blade back down, slamming off his foes shield and leaving his target open for the taking. "Tri!" His foot flung into the other mans chest, the ragged furs on his shoulders spilling around his chest. "Pedwar!" His sword came down once more, a pirouette of his wrist send blood springing from his challengers collar. "PUM!" He roared, bringing his arm full circle and running his broadsword through the screaming man's chest. He paused for a moment, then shoved the deceased to the ground.
Krell looked on, his knuckles turning white from gripping his shield to tightly. He felt the familiar soothing touch of Lesburr on his shoulder as she passed, garbed in her usual burgundy robes. "The Clucath is ended." Her was was a whisper, but heard by all. "The First Door opens for Iron Hrulf, The Wight Eye remains the favoured of the Moon."
A young man burst forwards from the wall of shields, settling over the fresh corpse. "Shit" muttered Krell, jerking forward into the ring and almost tripping. "You alright?" He asked Brulk, his voice shaken and nervous like it'd been him doing the fighting, not the one eyed man. The stocky man ignored him, resting his blade against the ground as the blood began to set along it. "Back in the dirt." came the familiar echoe of his voice, the large gemstone in his right eyesocket glistening something strange in the light. Krell looked down at Iron Hrulf, his pale skin matching his own. The lad near him barely seemed phased, first he collected the deceased's weapons, then his other valuables before finally dragging his corpse away from the huddle of men. "Need anything?" He asked, turning to find that Brulk had already walked a dozen steps away.
He jogged to catch up, his stomach churning and ready to throw up all down his shield. "Wight-Eye.." The older man stopped and turned back, his shoulders down low as though hungry for a second course. "I'm to be your second. Where are we going?" His voice held the remnants of courage, but fell flat on Brulk's ears. "Going for a piss." He grunted, turning back around and heading off into the treeline. "Reckon a man deserves a piss in peace after a fight."
Krell's hand went to his own manhood, he wasn't sure if he was checking it was still there or just that he hadn't pissed himself. A hand slapped on his shoulder, and he felt what little manhood remained had shrunk up tighter than a Dwarf merchant. "You that bastards Ailsman, lad?" came the voice, uncharacteristicly light by the usual crowd. Krell gave a meek nod, convinced he'd soon be left with just a set of bollocks and a nub where his cock used to live. "Must have it easy. Not much chance o' that bastard stepping through the First Door. Heard it said he's a favourite of the moon, guiding men through it's many doors." The stranger smiled, showing a set of oddly sharp teeth.
