In that hour of need, Kur was the epitome of strength, the father of courage. While his Sergeant led them, he stayed behind to defend the stair. Foe after foe came against him, and soon his battle axe was drenched in blood. His grip unfaltering, though he received many hateful blows from those that he slew. Soon his enemies lay piled at his feet, and the passageway was temporarily blocked. "Clanggedeus watches me," he thought, for he felt no pain from his wounds. His only awareness was of the pounding of his heart, for the spirit of battle consumed him.