Morr stared in shock at what the enraged mob had done, all of the guards he had disarmed torn apart in an onslaught of make-shift weapons, the crowd's screams for revenge and blood reverberating through the streets.<br/>That, and their praise for him, the glorious hero that would certainly herald their revolt against the shackles of the arrogant nobles that fattened themselves on the goods of those lower than them.<br/><br/>The noise went not without response, as soon after several dozens of fully armed men, the guard weary of further riots, marched through the streets to where they assumed the main trouble-makers were commencing the public unrest. At first, the faces of the men betrayed more boredom, with maybe some anticipation to strike down some haggard beggar-crowd. That was until they spotted the six guards lying in their own pools of blood, the gargantuan knight with his sword drawn standing in the middle of it, behind him a large crowd of peope shouting praises at the knight, insults at the men.<br/><br/>Even as the captain of the guard called out to him, Morr could still only stare at the faces of the men he had unwittingly condemned to death.<br/><br/>He was, again, a hero.