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Soon, the inside of the tent had careened into utter chaos. The clansmen were everywhere, armed to the teeth and trying to kill all they saw. Fourteen wasn't sure what to do- blocking the door to the tent had seemed like a good idea at first, but now there barely [i]was[/i] a tent, and it seemed like the canvas provided absolutely no defense. As Fourteen contemplated the situation, his vision went black, and he felt something pulled over his head and shoulders. He staggered back as he felt the canvas strip tighten and a clansman climb up his back, pulling it tight around his neck. Fourteen could not suffocate, but fighting blind was a terrible idea. Desperately, he swung about, stomping violently in an attempt to keep the clansmen away from him. He felt a sharp pain as a club met his right hip, then another met the back of his left knee. It hurt, but it didn't break stone. Their strikes would start leaving permanent damage if he didn't act. 

Carefully, Fourteen reached behind his back, but the clansman was too fast for him to reach. The only way to get him off was to fall backwards, but then Fourteen would be on the ground and his head would be an easy target. Fourteen had heard that blows to the head can cause amnesia, and more than anything he didn't want to lose anymore memories. He had so few left. Another blow came to his right knee, and Fourteen instinctively reached down to his left. He felt cloth, then skin and he clenched his fist hard. A clansman cried out as Fourteen grabbed him by the bicep. He gripped hard, causing a terrible squelching sound, and then he had an idea. Fourteen lifted the man up with all his strength and brought him down over his back like a towel. There was a crunch and a scream as the clansman in Fourteen's hand struck the one on his back, and both tumbled to the ground. Fourteen ripped the canvas off his face, turned, and stomped. There was squishing and crunching, but no screams. Fourteen turned and batted the third clansman's club away. The club went soaring out into the sandstorm and the clansman retreated. 

Fourteen turned back around into the tent. Several of the other members of the team were fighting for their lives as the clansmen swarmed in. Fourteen marched inside as Azariah's magishell went crashing through a clansman's head, splattering blood and viscera. A clansman with a spear ran through one of the cuts in the canvas. Fourteen gave the man a hard push in the chest and he went soaring backwards, landing outside somewhere. The spear grazed Fourteen's arm, but it hardly left a scratch. Fourteen turned around, putting himself in the way of anymore clansmen coming from the front of the tent. 

[b]"We require a more robust defensive position,"[/b] Fourteen said over his shoulder. [b]"Who here has knowledge of battlefield tactics or the acquisition of defensive fortifications?" [/b]