Unaware of the two potential allies Giro began to make his move. As Restarok reached the mouth of the cave, cutting off the majority of the enemies he came out of hiding. He did not announce himself, but moved fast and sleek towards the Kerosh tribe.

They saw him moments before he reached them, but he did not regret it. They scattered in fear at first, then rallied against him. It was too late for the first Moblin. Already Giro had swept his blade across it's face. A squashed and purple eye lay beside it's open skull.

As they came for him Giro moved quickly and effectively. His attacks were all meant to kill in the first strike or in some way incapacitate. When the Moblins were armed enough to block Giro worked around it. The second lost a leg before it's head. He didn't stop moving as he worked. The third stabbed at him, with Giro wrapping his cloak around the weapon and dragged the Moblin close enough to break his neck. As the creature fell Giro kicked his corpse at his fellows.

Memories of the army flashed back to him. Fighting great warriors in long dead cities. Sword to sword and fist to fist. Days where even stopping to eat would get you killed by an arrow. This was not that and for a brief moment, Giro pitied them.

The fourth enemy managed to attempt to fight back. Giro's blade went forward in an uppercut and the creature was cut open from belly to brain. As he fell Giro felt a brush of magic fly past his head. He ducked down too late and the second barrage hit him, sending him flying backwards. He landed hard, but not too much so. Looking up he saw his sword flat on the ground where he had been not a moment ago.

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I'll let you die with pride...