Aeron ran the oilcloth over Peacebringer another time, then held it up before the moonlight, idly marveling at the perfect shine of the blade, the incredibly sharp edge. He twisted it slightly, then rolled to the side as an axe whistled through the air where he'd been an instant before.
"Arayans! We are under attack!"
The pale figures that had been moving around the camp since they had halted emerged. At least thirty barbarians, clad in hides and piecemeal armor, carrying axes and clubs and hammers, stepped forward. Their apparent leader, a massive man holding a greatsword, stepped closer, looking down on the smaller Knight.
Then the Barbarians charged.