Ocgnoton peeked through a barrel as a knight in blue steel armor grabbed another serf and put a clay more to her throat. From the cylinder helmet and coat of arms the man bore he was from a rival kingdom that never seemed to get along with his. They were the ones who boiled his arm and left the skin pink. gloves were to expensive for him, being that he lived alone and owed most of the money he made to another serf, ocgnoton hated them with a passion. Though he was cowarring in a barrel the rage in him built it and he began to mutter wicked things to the knight who came over to the hiding places, pondering what kind of demonic spell had been used on it, only to take the top of the ocgnoton's holder to the face and to have his helmet spun around with a hysterical laughter. He wasn't a warrior by any means and his legs were obviously shaking but he knew well that he was slippery enough to beat this knight. Drool came down him mouth when he thought of the possibility of a reward for his heroic deeds. Beef, venison, maybe a leek or onions, the very thought got him to drop kick the knight.