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In any case it seems the goal is for a duel to be agreed upon, to avoid a typical skirmish and settle the conflict more simply. The natural option then is for the both sides to appoint their own champion to carry out the fight on everyone else's behalf. Not that it really matters you think, what human could ever hope to threaten you?
<span class="mu-b">"...tell them, I want him. That one, the fancy dressed one on the horse... he's their leader, right?"</span>
Even though you can't communicate fully, you can speak up and make your wishes known, for Cailinn to translate. You prefer a worthy opponent, more than just martial prowess but also quality of person, a noble human rather than some commoner. When they hear what Cailinn says you have to say though, the enemy lord bursts out laughing.
<span class="mu-b">"Oh you little... I'll get you for this!"</span>
Immediately, and in a coordinated haste that surprises you, the Namadans turn tail and flee in retreat back up the hill. Seems they <span class="mu-i">really</span> don't want to fight you! So much so that they don't even try to hold formation, it's every man for himself!
Never let it be said then that you didn't try things their way, these silly humans. With an angry, insulted roar you lunge forward past your followers and take off in a stomping charge after the retreating enemy. The Gaelans themselves are startled by your action, barreling along up the hill without any support or warning, though by the time you reach the barricades they start to nervously follow your lead from all the way back down where they are.
As for you though, despite the hasty efforts of the Namadans to fortify the encampment against you, their defenses were made with fellow humans in mind. To you, it's a simple matter of crashing right on through the outer defenses and directly into the camp, trampling anyone unfortunate to get in your way.
<span class="mu-b">"Get back here you bastard! Run from me will you?!"</span>
Why, you don't even stop until you're forced to, by the majority of the camp essentially swarming you with weapons. Particularly spears that can keep you at bay... nothing which can actually harm you, not seriously, but impede you certainly. Even peppered with nasty ranged attacks from strange handheld devices, from behind the frontline fighters.
Trying to wade through the mass of armed humans about your waist then, it's an annoyance for sure but your mind is set on one target particular; the lord who refused you.
<span class="mu-b">"-hooh, fwah! Maybe I shouldn't have... whew, all that running uphill... I don't feel too good..."</span>
Maybe it's the adrenaline, the exertion, or maybe it's all the multitude of attacks against you. For one reason or another though, you're not used to being on land this long and especially exerting yourself on land this hard. And after not having had a proper meal in awhile, you start feeling sick to your stomach.
