Pascal had the queer impression that the man who walked up to them was in a state of fright even though in a controlled fashion. His handshake was cold and sweaty. He noticed his gaze darting back in the general direction of the caravan in fright. Pascal hunched forward and put a hand on his shoulder to somewhat reassure him. 
“We are here to help with the boar situation, please fill us in” 

“Thank the gods the Guild sent someone to help. It’s been chaos for weeks now!” the man wrung his hands nervously, eyes darting from side to side as if expecting to be ambushed at any second. “The damned things just hit us. Crazed they are!” he man bordered on hysterics, “Normal boar don’t act like this. It’s a curse of some kind. A curse!” 

Serigan took a very willing step away from horrible hoofed beast that everyone seemed to love so much. He didn’t rightly trust them. Evil they was, too smart, like giant rock footed dogs. His blue eyes trailed over to Mable, she was doing some kind of tracking and had found the trails of the boars damned fast. It was impressive. Everything out here just looked like sticks and grass to ol’Cuttah. He strode up to the hysterical man and quickly reached out and knocked him on the forehead with his extended knuckle of his right hand. The sound made a thick TONK and the man’s eyes cleared of horror for a moment as he took in the sight of the large man. “T’ain’t no curses ‘ere John.” Serigan didn’t know if the man’s name was John, but, it was a good enough guess for the fella to see what he meant, “No peek nor wif o’a’witch not ‘ere nor there. Calm y’self a notch, eh? Y’jus been walkin’ in t’eir territory, yeah?” Serigan understood that idea. He had ordered his men to rob people for walking into his part of town. The boar were likely just doing the same thing. “We’ll cut’cha up’n’is bacon in no time. Got’s ‘erselves a master tracker, we does.” he cocked his thumb at Mable and smiled at the terrified man. “ ‘ey Mabbs,” he called out to the red head, “We set some kinda trap’n fer these pigs, eh? T’ey seem a mite touchy, thinks we can draws them out?”

Mable smiles “enough noise will draw them back or the smell of fresh meat” I try to set up a barricade around to base. I drag a few sharpening branches to set up to block the boars from charging us as I start cooking meat to lure them up twelve boars. Mable also collected several scrolls for the guildmaster carefully tucking them into her bag. Mable smiled “Can the survivors please go inside I think it’s better to Lure them to us and have them hit the spears only a few won’t die from the impact.” The task took quite awhile to get the villagers safe as Mable coated the wagons in twelve spears each asking for some help. The boars were nocturnal so it would be best to gather their strength until then Mable took out some fresh meat as the sun set beginning to cook.

“I agree with my peers.” said Pascal nodding slowly. “I would like to have an idea about your resources, how many men or women able to hold weapons, and where the goods are.” He let the stressed man lead him through the carts and when at times he would get worked up about the situation, Pascal  would rest an understanding hand upon his shoulder and interrupt his flow.
“We are here to help. We will get through this, but till tomorrow morning, you will have to trust us. I need you to keep your men together, and keep your composure. You will be in charge of defending the goods and the kids.” then he individuated a stretch of the road that forked around an oak with particularly massive and gnarly roots. “Empty four carts of all edible goods that might attract the boar, and move them into a cart which we will keep away from the rest of your comrades. We will then surround that oak with those carts, and around the tree we will setup a tent where the children and those unable to fight will stay for the night. See those roots? Come, come here. ” he waved a beckoning gesture and lead the man to the tree, pointing down at the roots. A few other men haltingly tagged along. “See these roots?” Pascal said glancing at the nodding man “these will discourage the boar if they ever get passed the carts. Their hooves are not made to step in this mess of roots and this will make them easy targets, and slow them down. You will place three men with bows and spear within the tent whose only job is not to let any animal access the tent.” Pascal grabbed the man by the forearm and leaned in closed with a mumble. “Put the fathers of these kids on this duty: they won’t let anything pass, I promise you.” He walked back away from the tree, careful not to trip on the roots, and waving his finger around. A note of panting manifested in his voice. “You follow what Mable, that lovely young lady over there, is doing with those spears. Let’s prepare the four carts with spears on the out side, and some well buried on the ground around the perimeter and under the carts. This should get you through the night, and might be the boar won’t even mind you. Remember, no goods are worth a life. Now me and my compatriots will stay on the outside killing whatever beast has the bollocks to show its snarly face. We must finish all the preparations before night fall, then put your men on every cart. As my friend here says, tomorrow, we will eat some wild bacon.” He clapped his hands “Alright let’s get this done! We are running out of light.”
Pascal aligned himself with Serigan and rested his hand on his shoulder, then burying his fingers deeper, as if to test the lad’s thickness. He found himself curling his brows, somewhat surprised by the man’s shoulder. “Well, young man,” he smirked  “if you are as tough as you look, I might just tell the kids they can sleep tight tonight.”

Serigan looked over at Pacal with a raised brow when he squeezed his shoulder, “Lil’ old fer my tastes.” he commented with a grin and a wink at the older man, “Kids’ll sleep jus’fine wit ol’Cuttah ‘ere. T’ey make’em tough where I come from. A few pigs ain’t gonna get ol’Cuttah so easy.” Serigan tossed his swagger stick over to the nearest kid with a smile, “Keep that’n’safe for ol’Cuttah, eh? Be needin’ in t’morn.” he had no idea just how true that would end up being. He set to work with Pascal organizing the people. He was no hunter or expert on fortification either. He was, however, very good at getting people to listen to him. He bellowed out the commands Mable had for the men and took charge when Pascal’s pleasantries would not suffice. The feeling came back to Serigan in a wave. Just like the old days. Telling men what to do and being listened to. It was intoxicating a good back alley brew. 

Mable had the preparations ready as she pushed hard trying to help as much as she could to get her blood pumping. The three of them and the caravan were more than ready when she drew in the boars with fresh meat. The fifteen boar emerged as a pack most of them over 500 pounds. Mable watched arrows hit the largest one as the men braced themselves against the carts. A boar roared charging the cart by Mable impaling itself but driving the cart in nearly a foot. The ont attacking her cart was less successful as Mable strained her muscles stopping the cart. The boars circled slowly now searching for weakness. In the moonlight the only thing visible was the glint of there eyes. The ones that came close glowed in the red fire light as the caravan fired arrows until every shot was spent. The few boars on Mable’s side didn’t break through. There were three left who charged shattering the cart throwing Mable into the cart bleeding gently from her back. A single boar was still standing as it charged again bleeding from it’s side. A few of the men stabbed it with spears swinging an axe up Mable braced herself as the cut in her arm deepens. Mable wrapped her arm looking around for her friends hurrying over to help her left arm in shambles her axe ready. 

With the traps and fortifications set it was all ready. Serigan grinned like a crazy person when he started to hear the boar closing in. He leaped up onto one of the border carts, peering out into the darkness. He quickly turned his dussack in tight circles around his body, getting ready for the flow. “Oh! Boys, ol’Cuttah sees’em out there!” he shouted pointing with the tip of his curved sword. The little red eyes glittering in the firelight made them look like something far more dangerous than just animals. They were aggressive though, too aggressive. Maybe they were under some kind of curse like the caravan master had mentioned. The gangleader balanced on the balls of his feet as the boar neared. Some rammed directly into the spear wall but many made it through. Two of the massive beasts slammed into the cart that Serigan was standing on. His body rocked back and forth, trying to keep his balance. His smile only widened. With a forward shift he leaped from the edge of the cart and drove his blade through the shoulders of one of the boars below, his weight adding to the strike. The beast fell dead with a squeal as the second boar turned to face him. He wrenched on his weapon, not quite freeing it. A string of vile curses that would make a brothel mother blush left his lips as he started to slam the edge of his buckler into the head of the boar just off to his left. The metal rang and pinged at the edge of the small shield repeatedly bounced off the tough skull. The boar’s face was a ruin of skin and broken bone by the time it finally flew into a proper rage. He charged forward at the large man and plowed into him. His thick coat deflected the slightly off center tusks. Serigan’s breath left his body with a powerful whoosh as he was thrown to the ground from the force. Luckily, the boar had pushed him hard enough for his blade to some free. Silver steel flashed in the firelight, dussack doing what it was meant to do, cut soft flesh. Serigan stood as the boar thrashed on the ground at his feet. “Pigs’is fer men t’eat!” he shouted at the dying thing. 

His blue eyes scanned the area around him and locked on another boar running right for him. The things kept their heads low, it was smart, but, left them open. Serigan stepped back and took a tall posture, eyes measuring the distance as the boar flew toward him. He lifted one of his legs high and stomped it down as the boar neared him. His hard boot heel slammed into the thick skull of the animal and forced it into the ground, prone. Serigan slid back from the sudden transfer of motion, leaning all of his weight on the boar, pinning it under his heel. He twisted his boot grinding it into the neck of the pinned animal, “Tell’y pig gods ol’Cuttah sent’ya home.” he growled before driving the point of his blade through the boars shoulders. It squealed, and fell still. Serigan took his foot off the boar and looked back at the men behind the walls, hands outstretched, a smile on his face, “See? Ol’Cuttah always-” he was cut off by a sudden surge of boar from behind him. The gang leader’s vision spun as he was thrown from his feet. A lance of terrible pain shot up his right leg. A new stream of curses were flying from his mouth. He had lost grip on both his dussack and his buckler when the thing struck him, now it was rounding to finish him off. He could barely move his right leg and could see the dark liquid starting to pool around it in the dust. The massive pig turned and snorted as it began to run back at the prone Serigan, “C’mon ya fuckah! Deaf ain’t scarin’ me!” He screamed lurching forward and grabbing the boar by its tusks. The force of the boar pushed him across the ground, his arms strained with effort, failing effort. The eys of the boar so close to his own. Soon enough his strength would fail and the pig would eat man. Serigan wanted to call out for help from his companions, but, he could not bear to unclench his teeth from the exertion. 
An axe arched down as blood coated Serigan’s face. Mable stood with a broken shoulder over the boar panting softly. Mable crouched down starting basic first aid on sergian “Be more careful Sergian we don’t need to bring your corpse home with us.” Mable joked tying his wounds up gently. Mable lifted Sergian gently over her shoulder walking him to the small camp area. Mable could tell he’d need the rest as she jogged away to check on the fighters hoping the boars were handled. Mable jogged over hoping to lend Pascal a hand her shoulder still bleeding gently.

The boars fell and the gang leader sat off to the side with his leg wrapped and his cane in his hand. One of the children came out of the wagon as the fighting ended and looked over at the large man, "Does it hurt?" he asked pointing at Serigan's wrapped leg, "I think it looks like it hurts, you are smiling though." 

"'Course it 'urts lil 'un." Serigan tapped his wounded leg with the head of his cane and winced from the impact, "Jus' gotta be tougher than th'bacon, yeah?" he gave the boy a wide smile, eyes bright with battle exhaustion. The boy gave him a big smile back. 

"I wanna grow up and be tough like you." the boy said trying to deepen his voice slightly.

Serigan gave the child a laugh and reached out and rubbed his hair, "Well, if'n'ya do, come find ol'Cuttah an'eel set'cha up with a fine job, he will."

The trip back was a nice relaxing ride hauling the ten dead boar and the sealed message back to the guild. Serigan was forced to ride the whole time due to his leg. He really did not like that. He disliked these horrible animals with their big stomping feet and smart eyes. However, it was better than the deathly slow pace he would have to set with his wounded leg. He spent most of the trip trying to get to know the killie who had saved his life. She had been quite helpful in the fight, like he thought she would be, and had even bound his leg. He knew nothing about doctoring and it was good to have someone around who did. 

Serigan handed the horses off to some servants and told them to take the boars to the kitchen and that, bacon was served. Serigan stepped in with his companions through the front door. He leaned heavily on his cane, but, still had the theatrical sense to give Athena a big smile and a sweep of his hand as though presenting the returning heroes. "We c'm back! We bring y'bacon and great stories. Even got saved by this'n 'ere. She's a powerful foe indeed." he stepped up to the counter and dropped the contract down in front of the long hair woman. "Now, I find m'self with plenty o'clips an' free time while'm leg heals. Don'suppose I could move a chair in 'ere?" he gave the admin a quick blue eyed wink and waited for her to pay him and his comrades.