Rundel was marching along with the Slayers, singing songs of old and reclaiming hearth and home. He was a stranger to Karak Eight Peaks to be frank, and he believed there were holds more urgent in reclaiming. Karak Zorn for example, if it was found and retaken would truly make the Karaz Ankor an Empire again.

But, these were no longer his problems to think about. All he needed was a good death. He had gathered quite the posse, as only a few Slayers present had a more impressive kill-tally, but this did not interest him very much either. Bootlickers often only got in the way, and thus he did his best to 'politely' brush them off. 

Still, morale had to be maintained. Thus he sang with his full lungs, and made a point of clanging his axes in time with the song. 

When at last he arrived, he really didn't have much to do. He drank some of the more flavourful ales rather than the strong ones, for now preferring to stay sobered. Having an ambush annihilate the force before it even descended would be tragic to say the least. No, after a mere forty mugs he declared he'd had enough, and went for a wee nap until King Belegar began the incursion. Until then, he gathered his strength and dreamt of the great foes he'd kill.