No dead weight

Sounds of shouting and ondulating pitches became louder and more intense as it became clear that the attackers were communicating in the darkness of the night.

An arrow struck the man Gonyaul was holding, through the windpipe, pushing through the back of his neck, its tip barely avoiding stabbing into his face. He stepped slightly back surprised at the bloodthirst of his attackers. They were going to stop for nothing it seemed.

A stone bounced from Gonyaul's head as it skimmed the top of his skull into the the street behind. His attackers beared his weapons on their target maintaining their distance but pushing him towards the main street and the front of the building he had been hiding in.