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Message: <blockquote data-quote="covaithe" data-source="post: 5209295" data-attributes="member: 46559">[sblock=Karl and Weel]Your efforts to calm tempers go unheeded.  Under the circumstances, this is not surprising; these men have clearly been under a great deal of stress for some time.  Shouted insults are exchanged, and, quicker than you could have imagined, everyone is shouting.  You don't see quite who throws the first blow; it hardly matters, as violence erupts almost immediately all across the enclosure.  None of the combatants engages Weel or Karl, they simply brush you aside en route to their targets.  While ugly and violent, the confrontation does not seem life threatening.  From what little sense you can make of the shouts, it seems some old, petty grudges are coming to light as well as the disagreement at hand.  In some ways it resembles a nasty tavern brawl more than a pitched battle, though one without the softening effect of a good alcoholic haze.  Just as the fight seems to be getting more serious, a warning hiss goes up from several places around the outside of the enclosure.   Lizardfolk have climbed the trees forming part of the fence, and stand poised with javelins held loosely.  The makeshift gate opens, and the wounded lizardman stands there, next to a familiar, entirely non lizardlike face.  It's Gildrim, and not only is he not dead, he is fully armed and clean from head to toe.  His armor while still sturdy and shining dimly in the dying twilight, bears a nasty set of dents, about the size of a hydra's jaws.[/sblock][sblock=Gildrim]As Apikotoa leads you through the camp, an outcry goes up from a large enclosure ahead, a fence woven from flexible saplings and held erect by several trees that are worked into the corners.  From inside there comes a welter of angry human voices, and the sound of blows striking flesh follows soon after.  Lizardfolk guards are already climbing the trees, javelins at the ready just in case, and Apikotoa hurries with you toward the gate of the enclosure.  He opens it, and you see what looks like a drunken tavern brawl between some two dozen human men of varying ages, only without the tavern, or the alcohol.  Weel and Karl are at the edge of the mess, trying without much success to pull some of the men apart.[/sblock]Apikotoa shouts, "What ees the meaning of thees?  Stop!"</blockquote>

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