Reed straightened from his hunched over state, having nearly picked up Leouric’s broadsword. The blind Raksha intercepted the light-footed Blood Son who had attempted to stab him while he had been momentarily distracted. For being blind, she demonstrated in fluid movements and with powerful strikes that she was hardly handicapped. As Reed walked around the front of Kheluz, he gazed upon the dragonoid that had plunged eagerly into combat and into the chest cavity of the Son who had thrown his axe at him. His strength had forced Onion Head and the Fat One both to the ground. The Fat One whimpered as her hands pawed at the mud that gushed between her fingers. She scrambled out from under Onion Head and rose to her feet as sheets of mud tumbled from her quivering breasts and belly. Reed once again rested his hand on the arm of Glosgnir and stared down the remaining Sons who were starting to back off. They realized that they were outnumbered, and it seemed that the old man, Old Blood, had taken over the clan in Leuoric’s place. With not only the paladin’s comrades against them, but The Moving authorities, Old Blood knew the battle was lost regardless if they could win.
Old Blood said nothing. His jaw tensed behind the curtain of white hair that hung from his lips and chin. He silently gave Reed a fierce stare that had said enough. They would meet again. Old Blood turned with his fellow Sons and they fled the camp with the guards chasing them. The following hour on Reed’s end was spent watching the guards detain those Sons who had survived. Leouric had miraculously survived but not without several cracked ribs. His breathing would never be the same.
By the time Reed mounted his diremane without a thank you to those who had involved themselves—he hadn’t asked for their aid—there was another conflict. It was between Dark Elves and the Raksha. At this point, he wasn’t surprised. Ever since she had brought a dead man to a meeting, the blind feline wasn’t as innocent or feeble as she appeared. She was more of a magnet for trouble than he was. The Capybkin and his liability boy joined the group, along with the only human besides himself. The party was assembled and it was Szazah who would send them away with not well wishes but more of his drunken dribble. Every time the man spoke, Reed had to ask himself why he had even gotten involved. The warlord was not going with them. As he spoke of a Tengu, Reed wondered if Szazah had drunk himself into a stupor because he knew the threat that was approaching like an ominous storm was one he might not survive (it was an attempt to make him seem less like an outright drunk and more noble at least).
There was nothing to talk about. Even as the Capybkin spoke his protest, Reed felt that the beast’s words were a waste. The man had made up his mind, and the paladin believed that Szazah’s decision would have still been the same even if he were sober. Reed chirped a sound that commanded Kheluz to move. The black horse started away from the group. His heavy hooves thudding upon the muddy earth.
Summary: Reed is on the move.