(Kinda weak post, but I'm drowsy from medication. Oral surgery, etc. Sorry. ._.)

Namfoodle didn't wait long for his allies to gather about him anyways. It was more of an attempt to shepherd he stupider of his allies in the direction they needed to go. He got one though, actually, the dead-elf-wench. Oneshoe shrugged, and walked for the gates of the audience hall, staff tapping the marble floor every few steps. He beckoned to Myr, as he went with a smile. He didn't know what to make of her, an unusual sort of person. She was an elf, and as such, not as stupid as most. She was undead though, perhaps stupider, or weaker because of it. She seemed to be a championess of Asmodeus though, and so that was enough cause for Namfoodle to be wary. He stepped under the wide archway, back out into the lit city-streets. He looked back at her and spoke as he kept moving for the main gates.

"We should make haste, so those of our group who went ahead do not forget us, no?" he said, and then added, "I'm sure you heard my name, what's yours, my lady?"

He rounded a corner onto a wider, less well-kept city street, the approach to the gates. There, many carts were lined up. Large ones filled with supplies, and now people. Oneshoe caught the end gnome overseer's instructional speech, and then began to look for his group's carriage. He spotted the human pickpocket near one, and approached it. Namfoodle peered at the human, absorbing every detail of him before speaking to him in an arrogant tone. "I believe you're in my group. We should at least know each other's names. Is this our wagon?"

__________________
When a new day reaches dawn,
I feel it's worth the wait,
But I tumble and I fall,
I'm up against my fate.

When the barricades come down,
I'll build them up again,
When I'm just about to drown,
I still don't know the end.