"Take this," Dean's voice sounded, and Donovan turned his head just in time to see the fox's collar being tossed his way. Reflexively, Donovan caught it, looked at it quizzically for a moment and then pocketed it. Having strapped on his breeches and sword-belt, he grabbed his breastplate and quickly pulled it over his head. He wouldn't have time to secure it as much as he'd like, but it would have to do - the vizier's goons outside weren't going to sit back and take a break while those inside the house prepared themselves for confrontation. Donovan wasn't too sure what Dean was doing with the fox's collar, but right now was probably not the best time to go into it.<br/><br/>In response to Dean's question, voicing the options of distraction or carnage, the sound of a man's voice calling to them outside the door reached their ears as a heavy gauntleted fist pounded the door several times to emphasize just who the owner of the voice was addressing. Donovan grit his teeth, stepping to the side and leaning up on his toes just high enough to peek through a small gap between two wooden boards that criss-crossed the window next to the door. He glanced around until he saw the woman on the horse, an imposing figure if there ever was one, and Donovoan's eyes widened.<br/><br/>"Shit... it's -her-," Donovan gasped, stepping back from the window and and growling towards Dean. "The dork outside the door isn't lying. Methuseld is here in the flesh, and they have men ringed around the entire building," he said, then he hefted his shield and took up a position next to the door before turning his head to give Dean a stern look.<br/><br/>"<em>Carnage</em>," the warrior said, nodding in Dean's direction solemnly, knowing that this -could- very well be their last fight. If Methuseld was here, then as the urchins in the lower districts liked to say,<em>'The shit just got real'.</em>There very well might not be any mercy shown, for despite the woman's beauty, the rumors were that she killed without discrimination, and perhaps -enjoyed- it a little too much. Donovan had heard many tales about her - but had never met her or seen her fight personally, though that looked as though it would be rectified tonight.<br/><br/>A breath later - the door blasted inward from the boot of the man at the door. That surprised neither himself nor Dean, as the wood was old and nearly rotted. They hadn't taken the time to replace it, because then it would not have blended in with the age and wear of the surrounding buildings - not as if that would help them now. The war cries of a trio of men filled the night air as they charged through the door....<br/><br/><em>Outside</em>, the soldiers that formed a loose circle around the build and Methuseld herself would be able to hear the sounds of combat - steel on steel, grunts, and sudden shrieks of lives being ended. It grew silent again a mere pair of breaths later, and from the dark opening of the doorway that lead into the house, three heads came bouncing wetly along the ground out of the darkness - all the heads of the first three soldiers that had dared to enter the building....<br/><br/>Inside, blood stains splotched Donovan's left cheek and the front of his armor in haphazard patterns as he quickly caught his breath. "If it was just the soldiers, that would probably be enough to give them pause," Donovan whispered, making sure to stand clear of the doorway. "But with -<em>her</em>- out there... I don't know what the hell they'll do next... Be ready for anything..."<br/><br/>