Elizeus heard the clang of the dinner bell but ignored it. Sweat slid down his face from his brow, he ignored that too. The smithing tent was hotter than hell, but somehow the woman in front of him hadn't even broken a sweat. Isolde stood in front of Elizeus, showing him a number of new guns and knives that she had forged for him, Rhosyn, Asena, and the new members of his squad (he'd just been informed that he'd be getting some new members).

Isolde had her white-blond hair cut just to her chin, and her snowy wings were tucked in tight to keep from knocking over molten metals and various weapons. Isolde extended a pistol to him, the movement allowed him to see the tattoo of an owl holding a blacksmith's hammer in its talons on her forearm, the black lines of the tattoo were in stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. She was all light, while Elizeus was all dark. Their appearances were so different, opposite really, yet they were kindred in personality.

Elizeus weighted the revolver in his hand. "How many bullets?" He asked, holding it up in mock aim.

Isolde looked at Elizeus with her icy eyes, blue as a glacier. "Six." She responded, never one for many words. He liked that about her; he wasn't one for many words either, which tended to confuse and unsettle people, but around Isolde there was no such confusion or awkwardness; it's what made them a good friend match.

Outside, the loud dinnertime chatter suddenly became drowned out by the thundering sound of beating wings. A lot of wings by the sound of it. Isolde's eyes met Elizeus'; there was worry there, which Elizeus was sure was mirrored in his own brown eyes. Elizeus shoved as many weapons into his pockets and waistband as possible and rushed outside.

Above the camp, a horde was flying. And it was veering down towards the caravan. In a whirlwind of movement, Eira and some of the other adults herded the children into the nearest tent. The teenagers and adults gathered into their squads, each group being casual enough for the horde that was descending onto them to hopefully not notice.

Some groups began clearing away the remnants of dinner to uphold the idea of a harmless caravan. Rhosyn and Asena were at Elizeus' side in a minute. "We have some new additions." He muttered to them, eyes at the sky, watching the horde. "Stay here and look busy."

Elizeus found Evony and Quillan folding up the dinner blankets. "You two are with me." He told them. "Go over to Rhosyn and Asena, casually. Wait for me and my orders." With that, Elizeus walked away to go find the remaining members of their squad: Kainda, Aislinn, and Arkyn. When Elizeus found the three, he stalked over to the rest of their squad just as the first of the horde landed.

A hulking man corded with muscle and thick scars was at the front. Elizeus knew who he was, they all did. He was the reigning warlord of the territory between the Ami River and the western edge of the Gerdan forest: Howlan McCarthy, young as far as the rest of the warlords went, maybe late twenties or early thirties. He was a powerful warlord as his territory held two of the the Three Sisters--bridges that crossed the Ami River and connected the western half of Astos (including the Kitar Savannah and Laublic Jungle) to the eastern half. He controlled travel and trade across the country. It had made him a rich man.

"My Lord." Rasped Daesyn, Vanya ever the supportive granddaughter had a steady hand on his shoulder. The warlords and hordes liked to see women in subordinate positions. Some of the horde smirked as Vanya helped Daesyn step forward towards Howlan. "What can we do for you?"

Howlan gave a lazy look around. "Where are your kids old man? I don't see any around." He gave Daesyn a cocky, predatory grin. "You wouldn't be hiding them from us would you?" Some of his men gave low chuckles that promised trouble.

"Of, of course not." Daesyn stuttered, he waved a hand at Eira and almost stumbled, only Vanya's steady hands stopped him from capsizing. The horde snickered. "Eria, won't you wake the children from their naps for our guests?" Though Daesyn was old and not overly sound of footing, his mind was completely intact and clever. Elizeus always found himself impressed at how easily and smoothly the old priest lied, not that he would admit it, of course.

Eira walked demurely towards the tent housing the children, her head bent. Some of the men whistled and leered at her; some even tried to grab at her skirts. Her fiancé, Caspian, stepped forward, aggression in every movement. Before he could get a word out, he was flat on his ass, clutching his stomach.

"No one tells my men what to do," Said Howlan shaking out his knuckles. He crouched over Caspian. "Except for me, and you aren't me." Howlan stood up and promptly gave Caspian a kick to the face. The other man's head snapped back and he released a pained ooff. A gasp rushed through Elizeus' caravan, while cruel snickers permeated through Howlan's horde. Elizeus' fists curled up into balls, ready to start swinging, but he remained where he was, jaw clenched tight. He couldn't however stop his blue wings from twitching.

Eria came back from the tent followed by the small group of children that lived with the caravan. She had clearly told them that they were supposed to look like they'd just been woken up: they yawned and rubbed at their eyes. Some of the younger ones clung to Eira's skirts. Subtly, she moved them behind her. Her eyes widened at the sight of Caspian on the ground bleeding.

"What can we do for you gentlemen?" Daesyn asked again, gently.

"Well you see," Drawled Howlan. "You seem to be on our land and well," He chuckled without mirth. "You owe us payment for that." He gave a haughty toss of his head. The men behind him looked hungry, some licked their lips in anticipation. Howlan moved away from Caspian and towards Daesyn. The moment he was away from Caspian, Kirsi rushed forward and pressed a bandage to his head.

"What sort of payment is it that you demand, Lord?" Daesyn asked. "We want no trouble."

A soft chuckle from the warlord. "A shame, my boys could use some trouble." Howlan turned his head to indicate the horde behind him, they laughed along with him. Howlan turned that arrogant grin that made Elizeus want to knocked his teeth out, back to the old priest. "But I suppose we'll take, well," His grin widened. "Everything."

With that, the horde descended onto the camp. No one moved. The caravan would let them take any material thing the warlord's horde wanted. Clangs sounded throughout the camps as various items were stolen. The camp watched stone faced as clothes, jewelry, money, anything was stolen.

Howlan strolled up to where Elizeus' squad stood. He sized Elizeus up, scanning him up and down, then pushed him aside without another look. Rage boiled underneath Elizeus' skin, he could feel the heat of it burning through his shirt. Howlan's hand shot out and grabbed Quillan's arm. "I think we'll take this one too, even if he is skinny. We could use some new blood, eh?"

The horde answered with a cheer. Howlan dragged Quillan to the center of camp. Elizeus stalked towards him, he didn't have to look behind him to know that his squad was following. Elizeus grabbed Howlan's shoulder and pulled him around so that Elizeus' fist smashed into the warlord's face before Howlan could even get a word out. The pain in his knuckles was glorious; Elizeus hit him again.

Just like that, everyone was fighting. Elizeus was briefly aware that Eria had shoved the children somewhere safe and was fighting back to back with Isolde, who wielded her blacksmith hammer like the finest of blades. Vanya had a pistol clutched in one hand, her grandfather's arm in the other. Men rushed at Elizeus, he gave them a devilish smile and whipped out his pistols. While fighting with his fists gave him a certain satisfaction, guns would be more useful than broken knuckles.

Where Elizeus aimed, men fell. If they happened to get past him, Rhosyn and Asena on either side of him did the trick to get them down. He knew that Evony had climbed a tree and was firing down a rain of bullets on the warlord's horde; that girl was a good shot, one of the reasons she'd been assigned to Elizeus' squad. He was thankful for it when a green-winged man's body thumped to the ground behind him. The man had been ready to knife Elizeus in the back. He made a mental note to thank Evony after the fighting was done.

Elizeus didn't know how long the fighting raged on, or even how many horde members had fallen from his bullets or from his steel. The adrenaline high of battle clouded his senses, Elizeus felt no fatigue, pain, or passages of time. All he knew was where one person swung a fist or a blade, his met them first.