Before Jorwen could cleave into the beasts mauling Sevine, they were struck down by the other members of the party. The Khajiit was run through by the Matron's talons and Jorwen watched as Keegan was brought down some ways away from him. For a moment, he was stunned with panic, seeing already three of his number laid low. As Daelin loosed an arrow that saved Keegan's flesh from being rent by the thing's claws any further, and watching as the elf ran to Rhasha's side, he felt somewhat helpless. Doubt encroached on his mind and the coward in him told him to run. His grip loosened on his weapon and the urge to drop it and replace its weight in his hands with Sevine's and carry his friend and comrade to safety almost took hold. Were it not for the ferocity of the aging Nord bellowing a cry of battle, Jorwen would have left for his wife and that farm he talked of.

Seeing the near-feral display of the old Nord stoked something in him. He felt the old battle-lust whispering hot in his ear, his nerves steeled by the man's  own anger. “Don't be a fucking coward,” Jorwen whispered to himself as he looked from Sevine to Keegan, to Daelin and finally the old Nord with the Matron closing on him, “Don't be a fucking coward, Jorwen.” His sword's tip laying heavy on the ground and he felt the jaggedness of his coughs clawing up his throat.

He let a few coughs out until he sat there, bent at his waist. Dax sprang forward and managed to slay one, ranging farther from the group's lines and landing near the Matron. The Red-Bear wouldn't be outdone, especially not by that lizard who killed Farid. His heart quickened, and not just from the coughing attack. He drew in a breath and let out a growl, he began to snarl, working himself up like he did in the older days, he beat at his chest and shook his sword as if he was throttling the life out of an enemy and he let out the worked up anger in the loudest, throatiest roar he could muster as he charged forward. Blind hatred he had filled himself with for the Matron closing on the other Nord. He would show this forest spirit what it was to stand against the man that burned villages and slew warriors like lambs.

While the thing was focused on Dax, Jorwen swung his sword in a vicious arc, the sharp metal whispering through the air but failing to meet its mark. The Matron sprang back and Jorwen's mad, wide eyes held its mask-like own as he charged forward. It raised its arm to spray him with stinging bees but Jorwen's blade lashed out like a splitting axe to a log and hacked the appendage lengthwise. The Matron's hiss was loud and high enough to hurt Jorwen's ears. “Quiet!” he roared, madly swinging his sword again, the blade searching for the thing's head, but burying itself in its chest. As it stumbled, Jorwen let out another roar and brought his big sword down like an axe into the shoulder of the Matron. The thing's slumping weight was surprisingly heavy, dragging Jorwen's sword down with it, Jorwen let the big blade go and unsheathed his seax. The Matron lashed out desperately and its claws slashed across Jorwen's arm, only adding to his malice.

Using his longseax like a butcher's knife more than a weapon of war, he hacked away at the thing like a savage. He stood over the dead thing, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath and finally, the coughing came again. He was brought to a knee, hacking with his eyes screwed shut, his very lungs feeling like they were being filled with icy water. Finally, the attack ended, he stayed there, his vision hazy and feeling more tired than ever. Working at not letting his fatigue show, he grunted as he rose to his feet and nodded to Daixanos, “A good kill, aye?”