As Eltharion concluded his search for weapons, he heard a loud grunting behind his back, followed by snarling and a rush of hot breath. With a sudden, deafening roar which caused the elf physical pain, Gar leapt out of their cage and made for their enemies. His primal roar had shaken the noise sensitive elf straight to the core and he knelt there, clutching his hands over his ears for more than a few moments until he felt a boot in his back push him out into the arena. "Outta me way, prince!" Griffith shouted as he stomped on the elf's arm and into the arena. Gritting his teeth as his hollow bones flexed under the dwarf's dense weight, the elf scrambled to his feet in a rather undignified fashion and started making a dash for the first weapon in his path. He would deal with the midget later...or perhaps when no-one was looking. 

While Gar proved to be an ample distraction, more than a few managed to slip past him and begin attacking the others. A few of the supposed heretics matched with the soldiers who had begun to split off. As a former legionnaire spitted a heretic on the end of his blade, the crowd gave off a mighty cheer. First blood had been drawn. Risking  a quick glance back, he could see Kamnar lay a heretic out flat and take the axe he had been waving. Prinny meanwhile had dropped the dagger given to him by Kamnar and was now cowering behind the orc, his hands over his head. Griffith was, as was the usual dwarven fashion, hurling insulted as the nearest group of fighters, daring them to engage him in combat. The others were managing to handle themselves admirable. As his head whipped back forwards, Eltharion barely reacted in time to a sword swing. With reactions born of a lifetime of practice, the elf dipped his head back and watched as the rusty iron blade swept just above his nose in what would have been a decapitating blow. Time seemed to slow as he watched its blunt edge slowly rise over him. He could spot every imperfection, every chip and every spot of rust before time seemed to run back into the proper stream.

Sliding on his knees, the elf leapt back to his feet in time to dodge another blow aimed at his feet, jumping over it as he stumbled back. The human who wielded the blade had a fanatical look in his eyes as he swung again for the elf, who jerked his shoulder back to reduce the downward slice to a light graze on his bicep. This dangerous dance continued as the two weaved around each other, that was, until a sudden force slammed into the human's back and rammed him into the wall. As Eltharion looked back, he could see the man spitted on Hroth's horns as the thunderhoof repeatedly slammed him against the wall, until the sword fell limply from his grasp. Grinding him across the rough surface, leaving a bloody smear, Hroth then use one hand to pull him off and threw him dispassionately to the ground. Looking down to the elf, he snorted. "You owe me," he said simply before rushing back to aid Kamnar. Scoffing, Eltharion dashed to pick up the fallen sword.

Shaking a stiffened hand of off a spear shaft, Eltharion took stock of the battlefield again, making sure than any possible opponents were locked in their own battles. Their group remained mostly unharmed, although Gar looked a little bit weary. The other two factions were beginning to thin out as they fought amongst themselves and Hroth was already beginning to move to Gar's assistance, his entire body slicked with blood, though his horns were positively dripping with the stuff. A small dagger was lodged in his leg, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he thundered towards the bear. Kamnar meanwhile had his hands full trying to fend off a group of heretics who had surrounded them. Griffith was already rolling on the ground wrestling with another dwarf and spitting merry hell as he slammed a fist into the other's shattered nose. Duvain was already springing around the battlefield with a bow in hand, trying to track down any loose arrows, the sloth hanging off her back like a small cape. Hefting the small bounty of weapons under his arm, Eltharion started to dash back, feeling more than a few weapons begin to slip and fall. It didn't matter to him if a few got lost again on the way, as long as he had enough to arm everyone. 

A loud clang drew the attention of a few heretics as they looked behind them. They had been so focussed on trying to break through the orc's defense that they had neglected their rear. And now they would pay. Dropping his gathered weapons, Eltharion hurled a single gnarled spear which found a home in the body of a wolfman, but did not piere too deep. However, it did stun him long enough for the elf to reach him. Using his momentum, Eltharion forced the jagged head deeper into the wound before twisting it and ripping it out in a shower of blood. In the same movement, he slashed towards the ground, leaving a long bloody welt down the wolfman's chest who howled in agony. "Gather your wits comrades and gather your weapons. we make our counter attack!" he shouted as he swung the spear out behind him, turning to face another heretic.