At mér skyldi kaupa

Beauregard feels fangs continue to tear through his neck. There is pain, blood mingling with the rain as it continues to pour from the heavens. Around him he hears his packmates, the wolves that he has sworn to protect. Even Noelle, who shouldn’t have been on the battlefield at all… Beauregard growls, dropping his blade he holds to the mud. He will not falter, he will not give. He hears Blind break away from the shadow man with a string of curses as she avoids his dog, and Trill swoops overhead, her cries guiding the Artifex toward his next opponent. He has gone from anxious to angry. These wolves came to test them? To take what did not belong to them? His pack, as much as Beauregard wanted them to avoid pain, to be safe, and here they were, even non fighters, standing with him to protect their home. If the invaders were to win, it would not be an easy earned victory. They were going to have to fight for it.

“Give them hell, Norad! If they want what is ours, they will work to claim it!” His voice cuts through the dark, a rallying cry for his wolves. They want to attack a pack still rising? So be it. Surviving round one has given the man courage, and once more Artorias’ words come to his mind. He will stand to protect Norad and all its wolves. Not as a lone knight, but as a defender with his people. A snarl rips from his chest as he follows Trill’s cries to the next raider, aiming to smash into a yearling bigger than he was. Beauregard does not wish to cause lasting harm, but he does want to chase the raiders off. For now he only attempts his slam. He will only use as much force as he has to.

"Speech," 'Thought.'