Ereshk was extremely confused at all the chaos going on back at camp. Were these men also part of the company? Had he met them before? How many more chickens would he be forced to fetch to feed all these fighter folk? The mage couldn't help but smile at the alliteration of his thoughts. Barst and mister Carthul appeared to have the situation well in hand, so Ereshk diverted his attention to getting these supplies to the campfire.

He wouldn't be much help here anyway. His spellbook was still securely fastened to his back under his cloak, and by the time the mage got it loose the fighting would all be over. Ereshk spared a glance over his shoulder to Barst as he headed away from the training grounds. Even without an intimidating physical presence, the archer could at least talk his way around a potential fight. Ereshk, meanwhile, was fairly certain he would simply stutter, or mumble, or accidentally say something insulting. It dawned on him, as he was carrying away the bag of apples, that he was actually rather useless compared to normal people. What could he do if some enemy caught him off-guard? Could he even cause a shadow to flicker without the help of his book? This was definitely something to look in to when he had a moment to spare.

Once in the Tavern, the two cloaked travelers took a table near the door. The older man wasn't speaking, instead returning his attention to his tattered little book. So it fell to the younger traveler to wave a barmaid over and place their order. Nothing special, just some bread and a pint of ale each. He paid the young lady and she sauntered off to behind the bar to fetch the order. As one would expect, the tavern was occupied by a variety of different people. Some of them in drinking contests, others gambling with cards and dice. The two newcomers paid them little mind, having already decided to attract as little attention as possible. All seemed normal to the young man, but he heard his father whisper something that made him tense up ever-so-slightly.

"That woman at the bar. She's been watching us since we came in." he said this in a hushed whisper, low enough that even a Laguz with their keen ears could only barely hear him. And even then, he had positioned himself with his back turned to the bar, so she could not even rid his lips in the event she was capable of such a thing. To put it simply, Kristoph ensured he was in a position to speak softly to his son without anyone at the bar being able to eavesdrop.

The younger man, Simon, though he tensed at the message at first, quickly resumed his neutral posture and made no visible reaction. He might have said something in return, but based on the precautions his father had taken, he dared not lest he risk someone eavesdropping. He instead blinked, one time to be exact, a method of silently conveying the word "yes" without having to speak or make any sudden moves. This was a method of communication that his father had devised long ago, though originally it was used for spies to silently communicate within a room full of potential enemies. Now the two found themselves using it to convey private signals to each other without arousing suspicion from others.

A moment later, the barmaid returned, placing a plate with two small loafs of bread before them and two mugs of ale to accompany it. Kristoph and Simon stayed silent, each taking their portion of the meal and helping themselves to it, all while still maintaining a casual demeanor.

Alika

Alika watched intently, though she didn't stare. When they spoke, she didn't notice, her hearing was awful, owing to her ruined ears. From how they looked, she was guessing they weren't assassins or anything of the sort. Still, she didn't survive almost two millennia just to get killed by two random jackasses with sharp things. She knew she still had her blade, and she could fight if necessary. When they had sat down to eat, she approached them and took a seat next to the larger one.

"I take it you two aren't from around here? All this subtlety would work great in a royal court, but in a country tavern?" She turned her head and watched as a man (almost as if on cue) crushed a tin flagon against his forehead. "Then again, the average meathead here isn't smart enough to pay any attention to you anyway." She managed to get a glimpse of the man under the hood, and could've swore she noticed an eyepatch. She managed to suppress a smile at the coincidence. This man was probably the opposite of Grey. He was probably even injured in a more dignified manner (Always tie your bootlaces kids). "So what are you then? Thieves? fugitives? Assassins?" She said, chin resting on her palm as her other hand dropped to her side. Her hand was obviously down there in case she needed her weapon, but it was clear she wouldn't attack. Clear at least if you noticed that sort of thing.

[]

"I've finished my scouting, would you like to hear my...." Ashielle's words trailed off as she examined the current situation from her vantage point. Hoo boy... Lots of people. Loud people. And aggressive stances. And hiring.

~You know what would be awesome?~ Her mind told her. ~Not being here right now. What do you say you just take next shift on the scouting too?~

Ashielle was once more grateful for her impassive mask as she grimaced in begrudging approval of her mind. This was not the place to be right now. She slowly began moonwalking back out of the scene to try and escape before anyone noticed her.

If there was one thing Kristoph's career taught him, it's that no plan is perfect. Sometimes, no matter how prepared you are, or how many precautions you take, there's always a chance of encountering someone who is just as prepared or as good as you are. When the woman sat next to them at their table and started remarking about subtlety only working in a royal court, he mentally shook his head. This wasn't some Vinsenian spy capable of seeing through his and Simon's act, this was just someone who made an extremely lucky guess. Still, he wasn't about to let himself blow his cover just yet. Anyone who's worked under cover will testify that just outright denying everything you're asked only succeeds in making you look that much more suspicious. Instead, the smart play was always to keep one's mouth shut, keep the other person guessing and let them come to their own conclusions, because nine times out of ten, the conclusion they come up with will either be completely wrong or just barely off the right track. Either way, the spy in question remains safe, and then has a potential angle to use on the person confronting them.

As such, Kristoph said nothing and focused on his meal. He would have liked to return to his book, but that would have been asking for trouble, and there was no way he was going to risk letting some stranger sneak a peak at his playbook. He noticed a movement of her hand, recognizing that kind of caution as he himself had done it in the past. But rather than respond, he just kept minding his own business. While it might be a bit risky to not make himself ready for an attack, it would even more risky to give a potential enemy the opportunity to realize that he was aware of their intentions. Besides, Kristoph was willing to bet that this woman had no more desire to start a bar fight than he had.

Simon, in all this, kept as straight a face as he could and simply smiled politely, "Excuse me," he said, "but you seem to be taking quite an interest in us. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or if I should be watching my back. Either way, I think we at least should know something about you first if you expect us to divulge any of our personal information to you, yes?"

Alika

Alika appeared deep in consideration, before she relaxed. "I suppose if you were Rak'thurrian assassins you would have attacked me the moment you saw me..." She said before she took a sip of her as yet unidentified drink. "They're dumb like that." While she wasn't entirely sure she could trust these individuals, they were probably not a threat. Probably. However keeping her hand on her weapon would likely just unnerve them. The man asked about her, and it took her a moment to come up with a suitable response.

How much information to divulge? She had taken out her dragonstone, which was a spherical blue gemstone the size of a golf ball, and started spinning it on the bar. "Well, I'm just a simple servant. My lord and I are a bit behind on the times, so he asked me to procure information while he purchased supplies." She said, placing her dragonstone back in her pocket. "we've been on the run for a while now, and when I noticed you come in, I mistook you for assassins. You may not attract attention but you hardly blend."She noted. Naturally, none of the bar patrons really paid them any mind but if someone was actually looking out for people like them they'd have an easy time spotting them.

"So what does that make you two, I wonder? You can't be with the mercenaries since you seem so keen on staying hidden. So, seeing as how I'm quite experienced in the matter I'd say you're being hunted for some reason or another, correct? Well, either that or you're just a couple of disaffected loners with nothing better to do." At that last sentence she couldn't help but crack a slight smile.

Duraid had turned around at this point and had addressed the newcomer, who went by the name of Barst. Questionable Decisions, Hark shook his head. Was Hark the only man left in this world who has some sense of decency and honor? He thought to himself. Soon Duraid simply began ignoring Hark as he addressed the archer on the roof.

It wasn't long before the woman he had intervened to help tapped him on the shoulder. Hark turned to her and stated, "Look, if it's as they say, and you don't need help, and this isn't some sort of ambush, I'll just leave. No reason for me to be here." The irritation evident in his voice.

The large man was given pause by the apparent carefree nature of Helath, especially given the rather awkward escalation of the last minute and a half. After another look at the gathering crowd, Duraid finally dismissed the questions that were gathering in the forefront of his mind with a quick shake of his clean-shaven head, before turning once more to face as many of the newcomers as possible.

In the same slightly exasperated tone, he continued. "Alright then, you lot! You want work? You've come to the right place. Line up on the training ground."

"Barst, if you know what the snidely-commenting woman can do, give me your appraisal, if not, help Ereshk with the supplies. As for said supplies, you really need to work on your strength, boy. See who you can round up to carry more food, the money's in my tent."

The warrior glanced around to see who he had missed, choosing to ignore his daughter's current actions as a rather immature play on the former knight's kindness. Instead, he spotted the rather illusive masked woman attempting to make her getaway. "Oi, Ashielle! You got anything to report?"

---

For Faris, it didn't matter that her father thought her actions were immature, or cruel, or even just plain unnecessary. For a mercenary, pride was a rare thing that only weighed down your conviction on the battlefield. The same could not be said for the vastly similar concept of showing one how skilled you were with a blade. That could mean the difference between eating and starving.

However, even that didn't cross her mind as she stared directly at the man who had rushed into 'save' her. All that mattered was that she'd been showed up by this hulking creature who didn't even think to judge the situation(The similarities to how Faris herself handled everything flew right over her head.), and that he'd obviously thought that he could save her by doing it. Frankly, it was rather insulting.

However, that didn't prepare her for the answer that Hark gave, her seemingly genuine smile disappearing as Faris' jaw went slack, her mouth hanging slightly agape. It was a good five seconds before she finally responded, more than a bit flustered. ".....Er, yeah. Ah...I..." She finally found her voice, following up her stumbling admission to the man's statement with her own harsh comment. "Get outta here, ya hulking oaf!"

Barst just stood there as events progressed. Things were handled now, one way or another. Everybody was, more or less, thinking clearly now and not letting events just carry on into one another. Good, that was really all he cared about. He wasn't in the mood to go on the run again, because frankly, it sucked. And killing some random dude on a...shaky narrative....was a good way to risk that. Though Duraid had a point about large assassins, the archer was glad that Duraid at least took his point about how....rash....his actions had been. Hell, it seemed most agreed, even the girl he was trying to save. And now, this would-be hero was still trying to maintain the moral high ground, by dropping the suggestion that, perhaps, they were bandits trying to rob him. Barst almost laughed at that. He would have if the idea weren't pants-on-head idiotic. Their group was well-known enough that just about anybody in the area should've been able to tell who they were.

Oh well. It looked like they were picking up some new blood. Good. So far, it seemed the three....oddly well-timed men, as well as the ax girl, were their new recruits. Though, Barst absolutely had no clue what she was actually capable of. "Can't say I do, boss. She said she's 'the best' with an ax, though, so start with that." Nodding his head at the girl, he turned back to his Pegasus and grabbed the grocery bags he'd put down. "Let's go, Ereshk. I'll help ya out this time around."

Hark simply smiled at the young lady’s response. The look in his eyes betrayed his smile; there was a certain sadness beneath it all. Hark turned away and started walking towards the sacks of potatoes he’d left in the dirt and stated while waving, “By your leave, miss.”

Hark picked up the sacks of potatoes and looked back for a moment, I think I’ll go the long way around. Hark thought as he made his way out of the area. I could use a drink Hark thought. He would definitely be visiting the tavern tonight.

With a final bite, Arianna had effectively eaten most all of the apple, leaving only the core and a stem left in her wake. And boy, did it hit the spot! She tossed the apple core on the ground and wiped her mouth to clear away any food remnants that didn't reach her mouth.

The man who she assumed to be the leader of the group had told her and the three other men with her seeking work to line up on the training ground. Arianna was naturally leery of him, giving her orders when he didn't even know who he was, but even more so that she had been accused of making a snide comment. What did he expect? This certainly wasn't normal of a mercenary group, at least not to her knowledge. Whatever, it couldn't be helped. And after that, big boss man over there was the last person Arianna wanted to piss off.

She jumped when Barst, one of the men who had led her to the camp, had relayed to the leader of the group that she was supposedly "the best" with an axe. This caused her to laugh nervously and rub the back of my head. Oh great, she thought. Looks like I better get good in the next five seconds. She sighed and looked around for where she was supposed to be. The training ground was probably the big open area in the middle of the camp, the very one she was standing in front of right now, but she didn't want to look stupid in front of everyone. Instead, she waited for the three other recruited men to move, joining them on either side of the line whenever they decided to take their place.

Grey Onyx

Grey watched the scene unfold and found his assumptions correct: They could handle themselves. Still, he didn't really feel like he had any place to go. All this time without any human contact save Alika had really begun to wear on him. When the larger man (obviously the leader) spoke up, he hooked his Axe back on its loop and moved to line up. While obviously not intended for him, he saw no harm in it. At least he wasn't wearing his cape today, wouldn't want to look too 'extravagant' you know? Naturally he didn't really notice, but his right pauldron still had the Rak'thurrian emblem (A crossed axe and lance behind a boar skull{OOC NOTE: making shit up here, feel free to correct me at any point}), which might serve to make people uncomfortable, if they were aware of his nation's history.

He arrived a fair bit after they had lined up, and there was one woman here in line that looked just a bit nervous. This was probably the one the archer referred to, and if he had to guess he'd say she was overselling herself. "I wouldn't worry, Lass. Unless you can't even swing one I doubt they'd turn you away." He said quietly. While at first he had doubts about speaking to her so suddenly, he doubted he would startle her. I mean he walked right in front of her, there was no way she didn't notice him. Now, he waited for the boss man to tell him what to do next.

Ereshk plunked himself down on a log stump near the campfire. He was breathing heavily and trying his hardest to calm his racing pulse. A bead of sweat oozed down the side of his face. How many more bags were left? Barst and his pegasus should only have maybe one or two more to carry, right? Ereshk had clearly carried all the rest already! ...Right?

The mage glanced around the campfire and groaned, wincing as his sides ached from the strain. The food preparation area had two whole bags in it; the apples and the corn. Despite Ereshk's best efforts, almost all of the food was still with Barst and the pegasus. Then, of course, someone would have to go to town to get more. Ereshk had spent all day gathering nothing more than tonight's appetizer. If these newcomers ended up staying for dinner then there would be yet another handful of mouths to feed, and all the stuff Ereshk had brought would be even less of a meal for the camp as a whole.

Ereshk propped his elbows up on his knees and buried his face in his hands, still wheezing from exhaustion. His sore fingers grasped onto his wiry black hair in irritation. He was trying his hardest here! Why couldn't they see that? He was trying! He was trying.

"Would you kindly continue your wheezing elsewhere? You're rather distracting." A somewhat distracted, monotone voice asked the dark mage that was sitting down at the fire, appearing to be trying to work out if his lungs were attempting to kill him from the sounds of the wheezing.

Manus hadn't bothered to look up from the book he was writing in from his position at the flap of his tent, a fair enough distance from the fire pit that almost any other member of the company would have ignored the physically exhausted mage. Those who looked closely would notice that Manus wasn't actually writing in his book, as if the wheezing of the nearby human being was physically preventing him from doing so. Considering how the noise was grating across Manus's nerves like a saw blade that was clearly the case.

"Nothing yet. The animals are restless though. I surmise they are near but not imminent." Ashielle seemed unperturbed in tone and her mask was as impassive as ever. As though she was speaking about some inclement weather rather than a mob of bandits.

"They drive a wave of fear through the wood far beyond their direct reach like they enjoy destruction for its own sake, Captain." Despite how these words spoken in a different tone could be seen as fatalism and defeatism, Ashielle's tone seemed more, vaguely disapproving of such actions. As though she was disapproving of an underhanded tactic in a sport or game. Well, actually, people usually seemed to get quite worked up about such tactics in games and Ashielle was rather calm about it.

Hearing Ashielle's report to Duraid as he carried the grocery bags with his pegasus, Barst couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that ran through his body. That didn't sounds like Vinsenia. That sounded like a demonic horde. To be fair, it might as well have been. Ever since their new king had taken the throne, the western-most nation of the Vale had changed. The most noticeable change, of course, was the campaign of conquest their forces now marched on. He'd already seen the dark side of a battle against Vinsenia, and he wasn't keen on witnessing it again. Bringing the supplies over to where they needed to be, the archer couldn't help but notice Ereshk sitting on a stump, breath ragged and head in his hands. Walking over, he clasped the mage's shoulder in his hand.

"Don't worry, bud. You're doin' alright. Boss man just wants you to be a little tougher. Trust me, it ain't a walk in the park, but it'll get easier. This time around, I'll be helping out the whole trip. Just...do your best, alright? I knew a recruit like you back in Caldegia. Kid wanted so badly to be a pegasus knight. It was heartbreaking when he'd screw up a formation and get his ass chewed out by the commanders. But at the same time, every night, he'd go to bed with fire in his eyes."

Suddenly, Barst's face dropped. "He was killed a week into the invasion. Didn't die a hero's death, no valiant last stand. But the year or two he was a knight were the best times of his life. He'd made a goal, he'd worked at it and he succeeded. But he never gave up. I can't speak for anybody else around camp, but as long as you can honestly say you're trying, you'll always have a friend and a supporter in me. Now get yer ass up...we got groceries to buy." Flashing a decisive smile, he stood firmly in front of Ereshk and offered his hand.

"Us? Well... I suppose you're about to find out, anyway." said Kristoph, standing up, "Truth is, we came from Del Monray, Caldegia before that." his straight forwardness was enough to make his son blink in surprise, but he continued speaking, "Our only intention is to join the Belinni war effort. Speaking of which, I need to find whoever is leading the defense here, so I need to excuse myself. But please, my son here can tell you more about us if you're truly curious." and with that, he left, leaving the woman alone with Simon.

Simon sat there in stunned silence, "Um, well..." he started, not sure what to say. His father's decision to to suddenly be honest came at a complete surprise to him. But since he'd been given the go-ahead to be honest, he decided to do so. He started by pushing his hood back so she could see his face, "My name is Simon. That was... well, my father. He spoke true, though, we truly did come here from Caldegia and the Free State." it was kind of a relief, really. Up until now he'd had lie to people about who he was, and truth be told it never sat right with him. Guess his father was right, he never would make a very good spy, "We really do only wish to offer our service to Belinni's defense, you have my word."

---

Kristoph

After exiting the Tavern, Kristoph made the camp his next destination. It wasn't hard to find, in fact he'd spotted where it was set up as he and Simon arrived in town earlier. Once he was close enough, he began idly glancing around, studying the layout and getting a proper impression of what this town's defense was like. Overall, it wasn't exactly ideal. There were no actual Belinni troops here, rather a gathering of mercenary groups, no doubt employed by the Belinni army to help bolster their ranks in the upcoming battles. But Kristoph was still confused as to why there weren't at least a handful of Belinni soldiers here taking charge. Mercenaries, while skilled, tended to not be ideal candidates for war generals for a reason. Kristoph could only imagine the nightmarish feuding that would ensue from putting a bunch of separate mercenary groups together with no clear chain of command keeping them in check. Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers, especially in war.

He had to stop a moment when he passed the stables. Was his eyes deceiving him or... no, it really was a pegasus! But that could only mean...! For the first time in what felt like ages, his expression lit up a bit. A pegasus knight, there was a pegasus knight here! So someone else also managed to escape Caldegia? This was perfect, whoever this knight was, they would be the perfect angle for him to get in good graces with these mercenaries. There were a few people around, and so far they ignored him. That wouldn't be the case for long, though. Kristoph spoke, "Excuse me, but, can anyone point me to the owner of that pegasus? It's quite important that I speak with them."

Hearing Duraid tell them to line up on the field Nials got behind Sammael and Lasair and pushed them towards the others who were lining up. "Yessir." Nialas said, giving the returning Helath a nod to join them. Nialas was the first of the four brothers to get into the line, taking to a relaxed position, leaning against his spear. ~Since we'll probably have to prove our mettle, I might as well leave my weapon out~ Nialas thought. Looking at the other potential recruits the lancer felt comfortable that they would get chosen. There wasn't an overwhelming number and, if the scout's summary of the forest was correct, they may need the help soon. Seeing a Rak'thurrian emblem on one of the man's pauldron reminded Nialas of his brother's dislike of the "Laguz eaters", causing him to chuckle. This would be a fun way to get revenge on Lasair. "Axeman! Are you truly from the empire to the north? I haven't met many Rak'thurrian's and their cultural habits intrigue me." Nialas asked in a friendly tone.

Lasair was easily bored when his momentum or mouth was stopped, so he tried to entertain himself with a little whistling to pass the time. As he stood with Sammael, Nialas, and Helath next to him he heard his brother, the killjoy, trying to strike up friendly conversation. ~Probably trying to barter our way into the group instead of just going through this silly little inspection or test or whatever they want to call it. Damn the deer, this is becoming a boring day now that the fight is over.~ The word "Rak'thurrian" grabbed Lasair's attention fairly quickly however. Snapping his eyes towards the axeman, Lasair glared at the emblem. With a grinding of his teeth the rogue stopped whistling, instead making an odd sound through his nose to express his discomfort. "Nial, don't you think maybe there's another merc encampment we can join up with? I don't feel like seeing what he- well, what may come of it. After all, that lady just predicted a wave of death coming this way. We can always do a bit of hunting or scavenging instead!" Lasair mumbled out quickly, putting an arm around his brother's shoulder, although it was shoved off with a laugh.

"The best with an axe? Well, I always love learning some other styles." Helath said, an excitement overcoming him as both a girl and man both apparently were axe wielders. Ignoring Lasair's phobic comments about running away Helath took a step out of line towards the two. "M'names Helath. I have a fair wild style when it comes to fighting. Dualwielding. Messy stuff." Taking the two axes on his side by their tops and holding up a bit he motioned down to them. "They're Knuckles and Palm, Palm being the swordreaver. She got her name because, while most people throw fists and axes like a regular thing, fighters rarely use the open palm, which is far more deadly because it's unexpected and safer. Doubling up on the two of them usually winds up good for us, me and my brothers, and bad for any stick or blade that gets in my face." Thumbing the edge of the blades to check them, Helath deemed them workable and returned them to his side. Realizing he rambled for a bit Helath scratched the back of his head with a small reddening of his face. "Sorry, my mouth outruns my head sometimes. Can I get your names? Since we'll probably be working together soon, it'd be smart to know some simple things beside that you're both talented with the woodcutter's tool."

While most others seemed to be ignoring the fairly vital information coming from the scount, named Ashielle apparently, Sammael was listening loud and clear as he watched the treelines. "Animals... restless... reach... hmph." Turning his eyes towards the woman who spoke Sammael took a few steps in her general direction but still kept a distance. "You're the scout, correct? Was there any pattern to the areas they went to attack? Certain towns, trade routes, animal habitats? Is this a military strike or just a rioting legion? " A soft, almost growl-like noise escaped his mouth softly. His brand prickled, for no reason besides mere coincidence, but it still disturbed Sammael's thought process for a moment.