In the span of a few seconds, Farojorn spent his time shoving his belongings in his sack. He planned on the summit being successful therefore, he had some of his items on the table of the makeshift pub - he planned to be able to spend a few days in Miserth. Miserth was a perfect place to recoup and restock supplies needed to survive in the harsh climate of the northern woodlands. However, it seems his shopping trip would simply have to wait until everyone cleared out and things settle down. When he wouldn't have to fear for his life.<br/><br/>Turning his head, mocha brown eyes were met with the raging cattleram, charging and destroying everything in its wake. It must have escaped from its pen amidst the confusion. The cloth that blinded the burly animal danced with the wind as the beast kicked and turned, trying to strike anything in its reach. It was impossible to try to get close enough to remove the cloth in the animal's blind rage. The only thing Farojorn could do was try to keep out of the animal's way. Looking away to grab his sword and flee, he did not see the enforcers lift their weapons and aimed at the pub. The northern was obvious to the threat behind him until the other occupant of the pub dove, a barrier of magicka shielding the ranger and the stranger.<br/><br/>It took him a split second more to register what had happened, his gaze averted to look to the man who no doubtfully saved his life. Farojorn nodded, rushing a thank you when the other told him to leave before he slipped away from the pub. He ran after the rest of probable supernaturals running away from the stronghold, the few strays that for, whatever reason, wasn't able to leave in the first flood of people leaving through the outer gates. Though he couldn't catch up to them, he still was not alone in his chase for freedom of the outlands. The witch that saved him was in front of him, running towards the same exit gate. As he ran, he saw the other get shot in the leg, throwing the witch off balance and sent him spiraling against the rough earth. Then came the enforcer, her foot kept the other pinned on the ground as she reloaded, it was only a matter of seconds before the witch would draw his last breath then he would be next. Whether it was intentional or not, Farojorn had no doubt in his mind once the enforcer finished off the witch, she would turn and fire at him without a second thought. In that moment, the northern made a decision, an act of self-preservation, Farojorn charged forward while the enforcer was occupied with reloaded. Two hundred and something pounds slammed into the enforcer as Farojorn slammed into her, wrestling the female for control of her weapon. Thanks to his bulky build and the element of surprise, it didn't take long for him to gain the upper hand, ripping the rifle from her grasp.<br/><br/>Farojorn unloaded a round at the enforcer before averting his focus to the witch. "Come on." Slinging the rifle across his chest, he grabbed ahold of the other's arm, pulling the male up from the ground. "Lean on me if you have to." They had to get outside the gate before any more enforcers appeared - if not, they were dead men.