[center][color=2E8B57][h2]Duncan MacAiden[/h2][/color]
[img]https://s12.postimg.org/vqqln3nv1/saitama_2.gif[/img]
[@FelixArgyle][@Lucius Cypher][@Letter Bee][@FamishedPants][@Lunarlors34][/center]

Duncan wasn't sure what to expect when their motley crew of adventurers arrived at the village, buuuut it certainly wasn't the freakin' [i]Rabbit of Caerbannog[/i] and all of it's extended family. However, instead of dwelling on it and getting more pissed off the more he did (as seemed to be his norm of late), he blocked it out behind the cold, machine-like discipline his time in the army and youth under his grandfather's tutelage carved into his psyche and followed in line beside Atisha as she charged forward, taking up her flank opposite Malakaus as she prepared whatever spell she was cooking up. By this point, the bald man was just plain done with being exasperated about all the strange turns his life had taken; he could either ruck up and deal with the fact that a Monty Python gag had come to life to end his, or he could be picked clean like those two archers in the tower. And to be frank, one of those options looked like it sucked [i]a lot[/i] more than the other.  

And so, big damned club at the ready, Corporal Duncan MacAiden of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police charged forward alongside a judgemental Orc and an Elf with the world's largest stick up her ass against the ravenous, flesh-eating kin of the Easter Bunny. 

Adrenaline began to work it's way through his brain. The world seemed to slow and the familiar wartime mechanisms in his psyche that had gone unused the past two years kicked back to life as a calm, lucid sort of heightened awareness overcame his senses. 

The panicked cries of the village's archers thundered in his head. 

The acrid smoke of the signal fire numbly registered in his senses.

The swaying leaves of the tall-grass before him became much sharper, looking more animated and less mundane.

[color=2E8B57][i]'Wait a minute...'[/i][/color]

The would-be demonslayer began to twirl his heavy weapon in one hand, picking up more momentum with every rotation.

[color=2E8B57]"I've got an idea."[/color] He stated flatly, addressing the Elf for the first time in a week and stowing his personal dislike for the woman behind a mask of professionalism as a faint blue glow came to his eyes [color=2E8B57]"Follow my lead."[/color]

With that said, the bald man dug his heel into the ground on his next stride and leapt forward a good sixteen feet, throwing all of his momentum behind one horizontal swing of his club, kicking up a gust of wind that pushed the long grass down roughly in the shape of a cone around forty feet in diameter and depth ahead of him, hopefully making any of the beasties hiding in there easier to spot and, if the sun, moon and all the planets somehow aligned, stunning the little bastards enough to make them easy pickings for whatever magic mojo Atisha or Vesta could come up with.

A slight grunt resonated in the back of Duncan's throat as he got to his feet and fell back in line with Mally and Atisha who, at their pace, were quick to cover the distance and overtake him. Weapon at the ready as he caught up.