(Open)
Salem sprung from his den, eyes glinting. He had not expected the attack, but couldn't show his shock now; he was a guard. His job was to make sure that the trainees and the fighters were doing their jobs, since there were barely--what, seven guards? Himself, his brother, Onyx, Kamilla, et cetera. The oriental arvhed his back, gaze sharpening as they scanned for potential foes. Nobody had yet accepted the challenge the sleek black tom offered, and that... annoyed him.