[Rögdûl the Red Chief, Gates of Fortress Gloria, Praelium).

	The Chief removed the tribal blade from his back and layed it on the back of the massive armored warhorse. With two pats on the horse's hind, he sent the horse back North to the foothills of the Red Claw encampment. Then Rögdûl turned to the shouting soldier who appeared to  be the leader of the group. A smirk curled across his face; Rögdûl's massive arms hung idle at his side, his pitch black iris' scanned the entire group. He could slaughter most of them with his bare hands--he nestled in such a thought for a moment before his daydream ceased and he returned to reality.

[i]If you truly come in peace, lay down your weapons! Off your horses and lay on the ground! We will restrain you, for safety precautions![/i]

Rögdûl let out a boisterous laugh! [color=green]"a-ha. . . aha. . . Aha. . . AHAHAHAHA! With what? Your (mockingly) 'handcuffs!'? [i]Bubhosh![/i]"[/color]

But of course, he did not want to cause more problems than necessary. He did not, however, lie on the ground--that was weakness, and he would not display weakness no matter [i]how many[/i] soldiers they brought. He curled up his thick, armor-covered fists and held them forward to be "restrained." His laughter fades into a lull. A smile still draped over his thick, leaf green lips and tough, sharp jawline.

Nerakghu followed suit.

[color=green]"Let's get this over with."[/color]