“You never change old friend.”
Tirian stretched his limbs out after turning away from the dwarf, blue eyes taking in the camp and its’ occupants. His eyes fell unto Elrithos who had been warming up in a much more practical way than most did. The Aavikkanian cut through the air with a level of mastery only earned by those who had dedicated their lives to a particular set of weapons and techniques. His consistent movements while constantly shifting between left and right handed dominant stances. Elrithos displayed perfectly what an out fighter, or defensive fighter should strive to be. Then, Tirian also took in the Syndarean male jumping up with clear excitement as he walked Elrithos. Setna seemed to be unable to contain himself, fiddling with his hands almost uncontrollably. Their conversation lasted only until Rudolf called out for the caravans to move out, finally the soldier could get some rest.
Tirian positioned himself unto the rear-most cart and began to rest his eyes. The rhythmic clopping of oxen and steeds set the mood for the exhausted red-head as he soon fell to a light slumber. As his body began to rest, his mind attacked. The very same reoccurring nightmare struck with full force. The screams were all too real. Every feeling of emotion, every agonizing wound both physical and mental raged through-out its duration. Tirian stood motionless in a field completely engulfed in a blazing white flame. Men of all races and sizes stumbled and staggered forward with faces holding no emotion. The horde seemed endless, each and every one of them bloody and emotionless. Sweat dribbled from every pore of the man’s face as one of his enemies finally lurched to his position. The man standing before a paralyzed red-headed warrior open his mouth and let out a scream comparable to that of a demon. The man’s jaw unhinged completely and finally Tirian snapped his eyes open.
The caravan had come to an uneasy stop, and Tirian quickly assessed the situation. Three bandits restricted any further movement, and soon the entire caravan was encircled loosely. The cold Aaerynn finished what Tirian could not. Six archers divided equally between the two sides. A shriek filled the air as one bandit snatched Serna off of the ground, Tirian simply watched the scene unfold. Setna lept to action with words, then a series of quick and precise shield moves. The squabble lasted all but of twenty seconds before Setna hit the ground bleeding profusely from his nose. Tirian finally decided to make his move, hopping off of the cart and landing with a small cloud of dust. His entire posture changed, his eyes narrowed and the emotions from his face drastically changed. It was like Tirian flipped some sort of mental switch as he stepped forward and stopped Rudolf from acting too hastily.
"Not this time old friend.”
His tone was incredibly cold, somewhat distanced while narrowed and calculating eyes took in the scene in front of him. What was three became seven as a fight become inevitable. Tirian stared deep into the opposing eyes of what seemed to be the leader of these bandits.
“I’m a fair man. You've one chance to leave. Refuse and you’ll be left nothing more than bits feeding the wild life.”
"Bits?"
The man laughed, unsheathing his blade and resting the unsharpened edge on his shoulder.
"Look around you. I believe you should be the one to reconsider, Red."
“Wrong choice.”
Tirian drew his blade in one swift motion spinning and slicing the bandit leader clean in half, directly at the torso. Tirian slammed his right foot into the ground and whipped around the opposite way and quickly cut the two parts into four with a vertical slice. His blade sung as it whirled through the air, whipping off the blood of his fallen foe. Tirian slipped to the left and quickly decapitated a shocked henchman, then spun around cutting the man’s torso down like a hot knife through butter. Tirian’s movements were fluid, effortless and never wasted. Each and every move led to another which led to another. The soldier kicked off the ground and quickly slammed his blade deep into the chest of the third bandit. Tirian retracted the blade and quickly sliced the third foe three times with furious speed and flashy spins. Just as the four parts of the bandit leader hit the ground Tirian had easily killed the two bandits on the leader’s sides.
Tirian stood in front of the caravan, making it nefariously obvious no one would be proceeding past him. The warrior slung the blade from one side to the other to clean the blade of drenched blood. Tirian would have to place trust in the others to defend the sides, without magic aiding him he could only do so much. The four remaining frontal bandits rushed forward, clumsy and self-trained in their movements. Tirian saw through them with ease, parrying and deflecting the flurry of steel. Tirian ducked and quickly began his own assault. Tirian spun to right, slicing one bandit down into two parts, turning quickly and catching another bandit’s arm to flip him to the ground. Tirian slammed his foot down onto the bandit and snapped his neck with a fierce gaze in his eyes.
The rush was great, the excitement of battle and the blood rushing at extreme levels. This was the monster Durandal created, the monster Imladris tamed. Tirian stepped forward, thrusting his blade forward to pierce the heart of an unfortunate bandit. The soldier wasted no motions as he pulled the blade out and spun to the left with a ferocious vertical slash that severed the head of his final opponent. Seven bodies severed and desecrated cluttered around the ground, blood dripping from the soldier’s face and torso. It hadn't been his own, no. This was the blood of his enemies, the blood he had been taught to spill since his very creation. The front was protected, now to leave the rest to his companions. Could they do it?