[Fluffie]

So the warrior seemed to think his blade'd hold out. It was Jachul's skill that'd be put to the test. Maybe he had been out of practice for a good number of years, but holding the large, bronzen sword felt familiar. This was a time to be confident and fearless; in order to get out and start his quest, his search for Vicotnik. Things certainly weren't going as smooth as he had hoped for. When he had sent away the duck, Jachul had hoped to have a decent meal, get some rest and then change into clothes, instead of wearing this paper. He had hoped to gather some supplies and weapons, maybe secure a horse to travel fast. And then he'd had left, leaving the Tiraks in freedom, with the leader he had defeated before in charge.

But it wasn't to be. Looking up from the ground and at Älhjögg, he leaves his stream of thoughts. "I don't know where they are or when they will come. They aren't really my people..." He looks back, half hoping to see the tiraks appear and advance, using cover, towards his position. "...I just broke their leader's wrist and kind of received leadership." Still looking back, he lets his gaze go from the right to the left, trying to spot Tirak warriors. "I was planning on leaving soon, but I had hoped for an easier and quieter depart. Preferably without the paper." He turns around, looking back at Älhjögg and remembering one word that the champion had said before: Nidlanders. His expression goes from unhappy-angry to solely angry. "Nidlanders, you said? Vicotnik's soldiers?"