The man was not even screaming for help, simply apathetically waiting for the end of torment the guards inflicted upon him with their endless beating, the sounds of the wooden shafts of their halberds meeting flesh resounding over the streets interrupted only by the guard's shouts of "Thief! Be glad I don't cut your hand off!", while other haggard figures looked on, fear mixed with anger and frustration.<br/><br/>The past riots had riled the guardsmen up, always eyes wide-open for any sign of trespassing on the lower populations pass, lashing out with extreme prejudice whenever there was the chance.<br/><br/>Thinking the broken heap that remained of the man was enough,five of the guards let off, waiting patiently for the sixth to vent his own frustrations. Again, the halberd's shaft sank down,<br/><br/>Only for it to be held off with one huge plated hand, while another balled itself into a fist, was propelled into the man's face, resulting in a sickening crunch as the man's nose broke easily, the man himself sinking to the ground with a barely-managed groan. Morr drew his sword, protectively positioning himself between the beggar and the remaining five guards.<br/><br/>A crowd had begun to assemble, voices of anger, hope and fear clearly to be heard.