By the time the bell rang, Manald had found himself on the wall somewhere in the eastern part of the city. He couldn't tell exactly where himself for the lack of detailed knowledge of the whole place, but it didn't matter anyway. The bell's reverberating sound was loud enough to easily track it back to its origin. Running through the city itself would probably have been less of a long way, but only so at the risk of getting lost and needing even more time. Therefore Manald relocated himself to the west gate by running along the top of the wall in the south.

Upon his arrival he wished for having gone through the city and gotten lost there...

The lycan was unfamiliar with this dwarven invention of 'cannons'. The ongoing preparations to fire one of them were not as obvious to him as they were to many others, so he didn't care much when running past one of the crews manning them. He could hear the men beefing about him as he ran past them as one of his elbows accidentally touched one of them in the overall turmoil that was going on. Then, a moment later, there was a bang that felt next to unbelievable for him. The last bit of information he could get from his ears was that it came from behind his back. Then there was only disturbance and ringing, no further voices or other meaningful sounds to be heard.

Had his hypersensitive ears just died ?

Not even noticing himself anymore that he was hissing in the process, Manald turned around and looked back at the men with their cannon. A plume of smoke invaded his nostrils, too, but the slight itch it caused was nothing compared to what had happened to his hearing. He saw the soldiers returning the stare, a few of them grinning nonchalantly. The expression quickly faded from their faces once they saw Manald's threatening teeth. He was not amused!

One the plus side he would not have worry much about more cannon shots, but he could no longer receive any orders or hints anymore as well. That was unless someone would dare to wield a big shield with letters on it, of course. Luckily though a quick look down the wall still told him the story about the goblins doing something at the gate's threshold. It could only be a bad thing for the smell of explosive powder and the sight of fire reached him once more. But what should he do ? Jump down the wall ? The gate wouldn't hold for long anymore this way.

Manald quickly discarded the thought. Instead he retreated into the gatehouse, taking his second set of leather armor with him. At first there was nothing, but then a muffled scream could be heard by everyone closeby. It wasn't like the war shout Manald had delivered earlier, but sounded much more like the very mundane attempt to stifle intense agony with crying. It was followed by several others, albeit much smaller outbursts until there was silence again in the gatehouse. The bottom-level door on the city side of it was tossed open and clashed against the wall quite hard. Manald had no intention of damaging any of the lord's properties on purpose, but the sheer inadequacy of the exit's size almost left him no other choice. And of course he currently was flat-out unable to hear anything almost breaking.

Ducking greatly and walking halfway sideways just in order to get his shoulders through somehow, the lycanthrope emerged on the street behind the gate fully shifted and clad in his much bigger armor. Manald had borrowed a two-handed sword from a rack in the gatehouse, but his confidence in the weapon's durability was as low as was his confidence in his own ability to wield it like a real swordsman. Anyway, he'd try his best to give those goblins a warm welcome should they breach the gate in any case. If they wouldn't at all... well then he wouldn't be able to pull this off a second time this day or so, but maybe he could make himself useful in other ways then.