"Grief was trying to get back what was stolen from us," the man insisted. "We can't let him sit in the mud by himself. That's our comrade. He could have killed him with a blow like that. Look, Grief ain't even moving."
'All the more reason not to fight him,' Wallen wanted to say, but he could sense that their emotions had already far passed their boiling point. There was little that he could do to calm them down now. He heaved a heavy sigh, and pointed his sword vaguely in Vol's direction.
"If we're going to do this, at least do it sensibly, you fools," Wallen said, taking charge. "Surround him. He's stronger than a Hobgoblin, that one, treat him as such."
The men listened now, when he put it like that. He was glad of it. At least they weren't rushing to the sloppiest of deaths. At least there was some degree of fight to be had now.
