Broding was Gutra, a warrior above all other warriors. And as well as physical strength, he could respect the soul and will of a warrior. Even to the very last moments of his life, with full knowledge of Broding's capabilities and his own weakness, the Iron Man crawled towards him. It took a strength of spirit for a man to even face him, but to continue through such pain was quite an achievement, a show of courage not often seen. It was only right in Broding's mind that a warrior who walked willingly towards death to fight for his cause deserved respect, if not mercy.

"Gan Bor Du Amun" Roughly translated, it meant 'You are brave', or 'you are blessed by Amun.' For the Gung, the two were one and the same.

Coiled muscles like those of some great beast rippled beneath skin black as obsidian as the massive warrior reached down with his left hand. The man sliced at it, but Broding merely broke his arm with a swift grab. Even as the crack resounded, he suddenly moved as if to punch Trinton in the chest. Cracking through flesh and bone, his hand seemed to break through the mail, impossibly, blood spurting out as if from a miniature fountain. With a grunt, Guntra pulled back his hand, and in it he held the still-fresh heart of the old veteran. With another motion, even as Trinton's vision began to fade from the sudden blood loss, Broding held the heart up to his face, and devoured it in a single bite.

Broding could feel, even as the warm flesh slid down his throat. A childhood scuffle in the sand with the local rough boys. A patriotic youth, filled with wild ambition and great dreams for the future. A dispiriting and disillusioning battle in the marshes of Nidaa, the memory haunted by the screams of those who had not survived. All of those memories, the life that he devoured. To some small degree, they became a part of him, forged his soul stronger. It was both the greatest horror, and the highest compliment that was within the Guntra's right to grant, as he absorbed the strength from those who fell before him, forging his heart, mind and body to beyond human limits. Gaining the strength of each great warrior he defeated, he was an unstoppable immortal, who carried with him the souls of countless master swordsman and brave knights, daring or foolish enough to make the Guntra their opponent. Such was the Way of Amun.

As he continued, the Dragonclaw slicing through the Iron Men around him, he felt the green fire fly through the air. It burned not naturally, with the eternal passion of Gura, as all normal flames do. Rather, it burnt like the foul deeds of cowards, hidden from sight by a veil of lies and deceit. They burned with envy, hatred, and greed, those things that make up the weak and rotten minds of fools. He knew that those who were devoured by it stood no chence of arriving in Amun's Plains when this was all over, their souls pulled down into the depths of the Netherlands. Had he had any will for mercy or pity, he would have granted them a warrior's prayer. However, he was a warrior who knew no such weakness in his heart, and the only mervy he would grant them was death by his blade. He would grant all who came near him an honorable death by his hands, that they might fight for what they believed in before falling.

The mage was not of the Gung, and never could have been. He was not of the Ak, nor of the Tan. No Clan under the heaven's could call the mage kin, and yet, he had shown up so many days ago speaking the Old Tongue. That divine language entrusted to only the shamans who spoke with the Gods. He had known ancient secrets that should have been lost to all still living many years ago. He had shown great power, and he had come demanding they follow him. He saw the Gung went to battle, and had assumed that they would follow him, as if he were a High Shaman. Had the High Shaman not granted him the Protection of the Gods, Broding would have crushed his skull and left his heart to rot, along with his traitorous, blasphemous soul. He feared no Gods, and such a man, Guntra knew all too well, was nothing more than a rotten soul. Driven by greed and foolishness.

However, Broding was not a thinking, and he had not come here to ponder upon the stranger. He was a warrior, he was Guntra, greatest among warriors. And he had come here to be bathed in the blood of his enemies, and devour the hearts of their greatest.warriors.

A red flash streaked through the battlefield. moving with inhuman grace, it's arms were soaked in the blood of those that had already fallen. Moving through Gung and Iron Man alike, it's very skin seemed to be turning red from being eternally drenched in blood. Well schooled by the High Shaman, Broding recognized the Blood Hound, hunter of Ayk and Buk, the Spirits of Slaughter. Omen of bloodshed, and ally to none, the blood hound had already marked many deaths upon the battlefield as it came within Broding's reach. He could fully observe it, twisted by it's servitude to those Spirits. Broding paused a moment to wonder if it had been the admittance of the mage into the Gung that had caused Ayk and Buk to send their hounds, or whether it was simply one of their bloody whims. However, Amun was embodied in him, and his hand was that of Amun, Lord of Dragons and God of Warriors. If the Spirits of Slaughter had forgotten their place, then Broding would show them that the Chosen of Amun would rip the heart of their hound from it's flesh. He would take the fury of the Seeker and make it his own.

The polearm extended the already massive reach of Broding's long, muscled arms even further, allowing him to attack his opponents well before they could close in on him. The Dragonclaw came in fast from the side, but the Bloodhound had already gracefully moved aside, the serrated edge whistlign through the air above it as it smiled, preparing for another bloodbath. However, quickly reversing the direction of the blow, Broding brought the second blade of the Dragonclaw from below. With no time or room to dodge, the Bloodhound blocked, but Broding's strength was more than that of any human. The Hound was launched into the air, pciked up by the swing, and landed with a soft thump several feet away. While fast, Broding had the advantage of great reach, and as chosen of Amon, he was unstoppable in physical strength. He had also drawn into himself the combat knowledge and skill of every great warrior he had encountered, making him a formidable opponent. 

Walking forward, Guntra called forth in the native tongue to his people, the Dragon Clans. "Seeker of Blood, Hound of the Twins. I am Chosen of Amon, Lord of Dragons. If your gods have forgotten my place, let me show you why you are nothing but a hound for the Spirits, and I am Chosen. Come forth, and show me your power and fighting spirit, that you may die with dignity and honor!"