[b][center][h3][color=orange] Lein [/color][/h3][/center][/b]
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[b][color=orange]Location:[/color][/b] Cae Mayl
[b][color=orange]Interactions:[/color][/b] 
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	[color=orange]"One stone wall to another, eh? Quite the tour today."[/color] Lein wove that irritation into a thinly pressed smile and scarpered up into a more secure position from the little height Serenity managed to toss him. A bunch of ringed stones that was a couple meters off the ground, a ring recessed back toward the one landmark of Cae Mayl, and a couple more scattered outward in a sporadic smattering, just close enough for a daring jump between them. A playground of sorts, for someone who could appreciate an easy vantage point and be thrown up the rocks with alarming ease. 

	Sure, Lein could lean back, take it easy and spend yet another idle day. Or he could risk having his head split open hopping from stone to stone and watch the rest of the regiment from above like a disinterested crow. It wasn't a choice, really. His conscious was already frayed by the harrowing experience of boredom. Lein chose to hop across the standing stones and take up one particularly forward position, in a tauntingly distant strait that would certainly arrest the notice of an advancing troop. 

	His arrogance did not last first contact; Lein hailed arrows down at the hounds with the confidence that they, with their pithy conjured claws could surely not climb the vertical sheer rock face of the standing stone. Yet those demon hounds were more than capable of climbing up his perch, and more than willing to scarper up its entire height with disjointed viscosity quicker than the suddenly isolated archer. The first to reach the top had its jaw shot into the column itself before Lein stamped its neck. The second landed on top of the first, bleeding from its shoulders and still snapping at the arrows that pierced its mouth. Lein swung around to leap back through the standing stones and toward the defensive line that was meeting the horde; but another particularly eager hound however, found the archer's leg as its savage writhing tore Lein's balance and sent him crashing into the dirt.

	Neither side took any time to recover; the curse hound snarling and lunging at it prey, and Lein snapping out a short blade from his belt and meeting the creatures with equal viciousness. This was not the first time he had been caught off-side, but the Hundi found these conjurations especially deplorable to have pointedly marked his error. These accursed hounds, barely sentient things that would be little more than a flick of a finger for anyone amongst the Knights and yet the pack of them made a fool of Lein's over-eagerness for action. For that offense, he didn't rush back into the frontline established by the rest of the Knights, and instead sunk deep into the oncoming rush.

	He didn't bother firing a quip when the brief lull came; instead he cursed and swore his way back up the standing stone, even the minor inconvenience of the climbing grating on the injury to his pride. He took one disdainful look at the fleshy behemoths that shuddered and cracked their way toward the frontlines, barely taking the time to level his aim before launching a slew of arrows towards the ugliest one of the lot. That his compatriot Fionn was trampling his way toward them was a secondary concern; violence and competence would be Lein's choice of venting his compounded frustration, and right now, the Knights needed someone who would rid those things with as many arrows as it would take to tear them to the ground.