Tarran ran in a full sprint, rushing to the sound of battle, of play for his people. Before he realized he was in a human town, where he might surely be brutally killed simply for his race, he was upon his first victim, a soldier of the tyrant's army. Tarran tore out the man's throat and beat the body several times. Already, the frenzythat overcame him in any kind of excitement was beginning to take hold.
He leaped onto the back of another soldier, pulling up his cute little shiny helmet and driving the spikes down into his back. Then, Tarran flung the helmet aside and crawled down into the man's face. He punched him hard a few times, then shoved back against the man and pulled his knife from its sheath. He shoved the blade into the soldier's chest, killing him and moving on to his next opponent.
At the end of the battle, when the last remnants of the energetic frenzy had left Tarran, he was laying next to his last fallen enemy. He sprang up quickly and began to look aound nervously. Even after assisting so much in such a battle, the humans he had helped might still kill him if he were found. He began running again, trying to leave the town without being seen. However, in his excitement, Tarran rushed and missed the man standing in front of him until he had almost run straight towards what could easily have been his death.
"You there," the man called to Tarran, "creature! What are you doing? Who are you running from?"
Tarran was confused, but quickly determined that this was a human trick meant to lure him into a false sense of security so that they could murder him in his sleep. They loved their schemes, humans did. "Don't try to fool me with your tricks, human!" Spat Tarran. "Step aside and let me leave this town, and no harm will come to you."
"What do you mean?" Asked the man. "I'm not entirely sure what you're rambling on about." Then, a sudden look of recognition - of fear - crossed the man's face and disappeared again. "Ah. you're one of those things. Do you know what your kind once did? It was an atrocity. Some still feel strongly about it, and there are occasionally some people who srike back. I assure you, though, I am not one of those people."
Tarran sometimes felt odd amounts of resentment for humans - and most other races - simply because they were giants, compared to his kind. They towered over him. That thought occurred to him now, gazing up at this strange, tricky man, trying to decide what sort of a fool he thought Tarran was. "I heard fighting, and I came. I was going to a nearby town to - for business - and I heard the fighting, and I came, and now I am leaving."
"We could use you," the man said in what seemed like desperation, showing his cards in a game. "I think I saw you fighting. Your kind are known for your skill. You should stay, fight."
Tarran gave the man a wrinkly glare, his pale skin and unkept hair probably making him look like some sort of woodland creature, considering this offer of alliance. it could mean he would no longer be resented as the rest of his kind were. He made his choice. "This will not end well," he warned the man. He could already see storms growing in the distance.