Arcturus made a point of using the few seconds he had attempting to read the three men he would likely be fighting with. They were all shorter than him, and all gave off very different impressions.

One man looked relatively ordinary compared to the other two. He seemed fit enough, however he had an air about him that reminded Arcturus of a recruit. The look of a man who had never killed before, never fought for his life, but who was faced with a situation where he may need to.

Another of the three men looked odd, for lack of a better word. As if there were something distinctly off about the way he looked. Perhaps it was the lean in his posture or the disproportionate length of his arms. Regardless, the compact man looked quite strong at a glance.

The third man had darker skin and charred clothes, the latter of which was an immediate indication of some kind of experience. A presumption only confirmed by the cautious look in the sharp faced man's eyes. If that wasn't the look of a veteran, it was at the very least the look of someone accustomed to danger.

Glances were the only thing Arcturus had time for, as the owner of the hoarse, unfamiliar voice seemed to grow impatient with them. All the while referring to them as [i]hunters.[/i] He wondered briefly what it meant. Arcturus had gone deer hunting before, he'd been brought up as a noble after all, but he didn't consider himself a hunter by profession. Save for any poetic metaphor that more romantic minds might have attributed to him on the battlefield.

The question would have to wait, however, as a ferocious snarl heralded something heavy being rammed against the door. It was time to fight. That vicious, beastly sound had served to stoke his adrenaline, causing both the young man's heart and mind to race ever faster. It was a feeling Arcturus was all too familiar with, however something else accompanied it this time. Something similar to the blood lust of battle, but altogether different. More like a craving.

The door shuddered again as it suffered another impact.

Yet the sensation did not disturb him, feeling as much a part of him as all the other emotions racing through him. So he allowed it to bolster his confidence even while he steadied his breath and steeled his focus. Arcturus gripped his spear and fixed his icy blue gaze on the door. Waiting. [i]Anticipating.[/i]

His muscles tensed as he the door was struck again, followed by something dragging along the wooden surface. The sound of wood being carved away struck Arcturus as oddly pleasant in spite of the situation. However that thought was quickly chased away as the door finally gave in, a nightmarish claw bursting through the tortured wood.

Even though he'd been prepared for the door to be breached, the sight of it still gave him pause, a brief flash of terror and surprise interrupting his focus. The sight of the darker skinned man taking action brought his mind back to the present, however. Only a moment was lost marveling at the other man's strength before he took action. Arcturus swiftly stepped forward, shifting his grip on his spear to provide more leverage, and attempted to forcibly drive his spear down into the creature's hand.

Arcturus' feet dug into the floor as he swung, his legs driving power into his core, then that driving yet more power into his arms. He knew very well how to generate lethal force in an attack. Yet at the same time he was surprised at his own movement, a muscle memory he didn't know he had guiding the weapon down towards his target. Yet there was no time to think on it.

Hesitation had no place in combat.