[b]The Moving[/b]
Two Hours Before Departure | Afternoon

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Z9CeJRw.png[/img]
[i]Left to Right: [b]Sons of Blood[/b] [u]1st Row[/u] Leouric (Long Sword); Onion Head (Dual Axes); Horn Head (Dual Swords); [u]2nd Row[/u] Old Blood (Dual Hammers); Thief Blood (Dual Knives); and..."The Fat One" (it's actually a woman) (Club)[/i][/center]

There was the quick slap of mud and then a weapon was plunged into the ground before an inhuman voice followed:

[b]I fight with this one.[/b]

Leouric stared at the beast, his brown bushy brows crashing together in confusion. Was it a lizard? An overgrown lizard was the only logical explanation for it. A beastkin freak! Out of the corners of his eyes, Reed awkwardly glanced over to the creature next to him. The beast resembled a dragon of some sort. What was a cold-blooded creature doing so far north? He finally turned his head toward Hraakir—curiosity winning out—it was the reptile from the tent. One of his [i]traveling companions[/i]. Pride and a desire to handle the situation on his own formed an irritable and stubborn lump in his chest that raised overconfident walls.

[color=BCB9B9][b]“This doesn’t concern you,”[/b][/color] Reed told Hraakir.

“What the shite is that thing?” Leouric questioned.

Onion Head laughed, a large grin on his face. He glanced over at Horn Head, “It looks like ye’girl.”

Horn Head’s eyes widened with sparks of petulant rage as he looked over at Onion Head. The man snarled like an animal, spittle firing off his lips in an attempt at intimidation. The Son’s response had been enough to silence the Onion Head’s laughter as he suppressed his mirth behind a turned cheek and smirk.

A feline walking along like an old woman and searching the ground with her cane was next to join the already weird party that was forming before the Sons. The blind cat was poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

“More an’ more keep on showin’ up…” Old Blood grumbled.

“You must be lost kitty-cat. You don’t wanna be wanderin’ inta’ this!” Leouric warned.

There was an irritated scowl on Reed’s face. First the dragon man and then the blind, dead-carrying beastkin from the tent had wandered over to join them. He regretted being early, but he hadn’t had much of a choice. The Sons would have tracked him down eventually or harmed another to lure him out. His grey eyes were tense. He sternly responded to Raux, [color=BCB9B9][b]“Not. Now.”[/b][/color]

Reed’s eyes motioned away from Leouric to three guards who were approaching the face-off from the side. Leouric saw the paladin’s attention shift and he followed his eyes, turning toward the multiple boots that were squelching through the mud toward them.

[b]Alright, everyone, calm down…[/b]

Reed saw that the smelly dwarf was with them. He was a guard? Really? He couldn’t believe it. Leouric slapped his hand against his chest and growled, “He beat me witha’ rock! Where were ya when that happened, huh? You should lock’im up!”

“Yeah!”

“AYE!”

As the dwarf demanded that they all put their weapons down, the Sons barked their protests. Reed momentarily made no motion and then lowered his hammer. Leouric’s face turned red as he angrily demanded, “What the sheep-fuck are you doin’?”

Reed glanced from Leouric to Duren with a nonchalant expression and then took a few steps back. If the guards were taking the situation over, then he wasn’t going to get involved. It spared him from having to suffer having the dragon and the cat get involved—who knew what that was going to look like.

“This is not over!” Leouric bellowed. “Coward! Yo’r afraid ova’ few guards!...And a [i]dwarf[/i]!”

Leouric rolled an eye as he raised his hammer to set it on Kheluz’s flank mount. If the skinhead hadn’t lost his hair due to brain-loss, then he would have known that the dwarf was always the one to worry about. It had happened unexpectedly. A steel axe went flipping through the air over Leouric’s shoulder and toward the paladin. Reed had been turning to face the group when his heart skipped in his chest upon seeing the projectile. He dipped his shoulder back, his hood tumbling as his black hair swung out. The axe cleaved a few ends off. His single eye was wide, pupil shrunk in shock. It had been the axe that started the conflict for charging him, Hraakir, and Raux were the Sons looking for blood. Leouric was the first to out-run the group, eager in his bloodlust for revenge.

The skinhead had approached too quickly for Reed to reclaim Glosgnir. With two hands gripping his long sword, Leouric wildly swung the blade: downward swipe, upward swipe, across. Reed led the red-faced barbarian in an evasive dance of leaning, turns, and stepping back around the backside of his horse. He slapped Kheluz on the rear cheek, and with a whinny, the diremane shifted his weight onto his fore-hooves and raised his massive back-hooves off the ground. Clumps of mud fell from the great horse’s shoes, exposing the metal grafts that made Leouric’s eyes near bulge from his sockets before they kicked out to slam into the man’s chest and send him skyward, 12-feet into the air and flying a few yards across the mud. His long sword splashed onto the muddy ground and Reed made a motion to grab it before he paused. His hand hovered over the blade for a second before he decided against it.[hr]

[b]Summary:[/b] The fight begins.