Syrus looked at all the riders. I might not now what this d**n cube is for, ut whatever it is, these guys aren't getting it, he thought to himself. Syrus reached into his right boot for the dagger that was normally there, and realized he always took it out before sleeping. He looked at the elven woman, and noticed she had almost as many blades as an entire squad of city guards. "Miss, if I might borrow a blade of some type, I would kind of like to have a defense of my own, just to be safe," he said to the elf. She grabbed a large blade from the back of her belt and tossed it to him so it landed perfectly in his palm. "Well, I don't exactly think these men care if we are dead or alive, but the cube must not fall into their hands. Fight for your life, if they get the cube, we are as good as dead," she said to him sternly. He gripped the cube tight in his left hand, and held the dagger in a defensive position his father taught him. "Well, you hooded freaks, quit standing there, if your going to do something, do it!" he yelled at the hooded men. As he finished his sentence, all of them charged, each carrying a short sword and a dirk.
