Bristlebane looked around at the destroyed town they had appeared in. His eyes had barely registered the prescene of enemies when they were suddenly under attack by hounds from all directions. He quickly drew his golden sword from one his coat pockets and the sword tore through one of the hounds leaving it in pieces. His eyes take a glazed over look as they rapidly analzyed the movements of the hounds leaping through the air, his sword weaving a shining pattern of protective metal, the intensive training he had undertaken since he recieved the sword self-evident.