While Maric was angry that they had paused their search for Nimue, he understood that it was necessary. Without them, it was likely that the Tor would fall. However, as the knights leapt off of Layla's back, he saw that they were holding their own fairly well. Mostly thanks to the mountain of a man at the entrance. There stood Varatt, swinging his hammer like a madman. Not nearly as mad a man though, as those that dared to come within reach of his mighty weapon. Whenever a viking became bold enough to lung in at the paladin, they were instantly sent flying over the heads of their comrades.<br/>"To the Tor!" Maric commanded as he drew his sword, the blade shimmering an angry red.<br/>With a war cry that was quickly drowned out by Layla's own roar, the lot of them charged, flanking the enemy and taking them by surprise. Maric made quick work of them, quite literally carving his way through the raiders. His sword seemed to almost melt through steel, and even set cloth alight at times.<br/>"Glad you could make it boy!" Varatt called as he caved in a man's chest with a mighty swing. "You took you time."<br/>"I'm only following the dragon." Maric answered as he ducked under said beast's tail while it sent viking's hurtling through the air.<br/>"Glad you brought her. She seems to be putting the fear of hell into these bastards."<br/>Sure enough, even some of the fearsome warriors from the north were fleeing from Layla. Maric couldn't blame them though. He was on the same side as her and he almost felt like running for the hills.