[h1][color=lightyellow]Karkadin Gatoa[/color][/h1]
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It was pointless.

The wights were reforming and standing back up just as fast as Bruk was stomping them into the ground. They still trudged along, mindless. Karkadin soon realized he was doing no good just letting his mount endlessly destroy these creatures. He’d never fought an enemy like this before, and it proved rather disconcerting. He gave up, and ordered Bruk to stand down. “Nasi, Bruk.” He said, and the giant beetle listened, ceasing its destruction and leaving the wights be. He turned his head and noticed a few townsfolk observing him, probably having never beheld a dorak [i]or[/i] a bertis before now. He stood up, jumped off of Bruk’s shell, and landed on the street beneath him.

“What’s that?” A child said aloud, unclear as to who he was asking. A man beside him, presumably his father, said to him in a bit of a quieter tone, “Dorak. Mole-folk from the desert.” And the child responded, “I know what he is! But what’s he riding?”

“Ankro Bertis.” Karkadin said, approaching the boy. “Giant beetle, in your tongue.”

“Beetles around here are only as big as a coin!” The boy replied, “Is that as big as they get?”

“Not even close.” Karkadin replied, turning his head towards the center of town. Seemed everything was gravitating towards that general area. Karkadin turned to his mount and said, “Bruk! Oata!” At the command, he settled down, buckled his legs, and rested still. Karkadin turned again and made way for the point of focus in those whole matter, while the young boy and a few of his friends cautiously approached the massive insect, curious.

The knights were rounding up the creatures with an abundance of chains. Karkadin watched the heaps of them being pushed towards the edge of town, only moments later to decide against the action. They pushed back, and the armor-clad knights seemed helpless against their surprising level of strength. The dorak observed as the wights returned to their original positions and took an ominous foothold. One night, their leading figure perhaps, announced to the watching townsfolk that all was well, and that his men would escort them all to his homes while the situation was resolved.

As the knights approached and the crowd began to clear, Karkadin remained where he stood. One knight approached him with a finger raised and said, “You. Dorak.” He stepped further and continued, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help.” Karkadin replied, calmly.

“Your ‘help’ is not required.” The knight replied, “All is under control.”

“Doesn’t seem it.” Karkadin said back to him, resolute. Probably coming across as stubborn to the knight, but oh well. He [i]didn’t[/i] have any intention to leave. And if he couldn't assist, he was at least going to watch. He passed one more glance over the knight’s shoulder and said, “I would prefer to stay in case something happens.”

“Fine.” The knight responded, a little aggravated, “But remember, you have no hold nor charge here, dorak.” And as he walked away, the knight gave one last command.

“Let the Knights of the Ram handle this.”