Nephil entered every battle the same way. Silently, with a cold and calculating air that only appeared when he was faced with possible death.
He watched from the doorway as several of his people, who aught to have known better, rushed into the room, and got only metal in thier body for thier pains.
Nephil sensed that it was time for him to enter. Crossing his arms, he pulled two poisoned daggers from the sheaths on his upper arms.
The room was chaotic, with intruders fighting for thier lives and sanity in a foriegn battle. The native Rhunians were not faring well; Nephil could see many bodies of his people lying still, while none of the enemy had fallen.
In a flash, an axe appeared from nowhere. But Nephil was ready, and leaped over the weapon, slashing with his knives at the arm holding it.
Something howled in pain, but Nephil barely heard it, as an arrow slid into his arm like a snake. he followed the arrow's trajectory until his eyes came to rest on one of the larger intruders. The one that was like a man, but not.
Thier gaze met for an instant, Nephil sensing wisdom and age unimaginable deep within the eyes of the stranger. For a moment, the battle was forgotten, the arrow in his arm put aside, as Nephil struggled to grasp what, and who, the archer was.
Then, in an instant, he was gone, leaping out of Nephil's vision faster than he had seen anyone move in his life. Only the wildcats of the forest could have compared.
But nephil shook off his reverie and noticed that many more of his peopl were dead, and those left were not faring well. The intruders were hearty folk.
Nephil took the initiative, as no one else would have, "Retreat! Back to the caves! Retreat!"
Nearly having to drag Maulka away by the hair, Nephil and the others ran from the room. They were loathe to leave, but with so many dead and wounded, they had little choice.
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