[center][i]Jerod[/i][/center]

Jerod nodded to the Khan Therus, finishing the last of the drink in the flask as he stared into the stars. It was going to be a long war, there was no denying that now. The Naga fanatics would fight to the last, such was their belief in their cause. And so would the free world, men and women like this band existed all over, who would not surrender their freedom and ways of life, even if it meant death and bloodshed. A sobering thought, a global fight over ideology and faith. A world spanning war, with everything on the line. The light of freedom and progress, or the darkness of oppression and enslavement to an ideology corrupted. Jerod sighed, running a hand over his face, sweating despite the cold weather. Still too warm for his tastes, or perhaps it was not just the climate putting him into such cold sweats. Either way, he couldn't rightly pass out against this tree, unobserved. That was inviting trouble. So, with a grunt, he hauled himself onto his feet and walked into the camp proper, careful to not make noise that would awaken those who slumbered. He happened to stumble, figuratively of course, across Solanne and Niya, to both he nodded towards with a tired smirk.

[b]"Mornin' t' both o' ye, or evenin', whic'ever i' may be still."[/b]

[center][i]Niya[/i][/center]

Niya sighed, leaning on her staff and shaking her head briefly before straightening up, returning to her usual, cloistered and reserved standing. Her young companion was indeed right, the last Shepards were not anywhere remotely close to a proper military band, which was what led them to such success was that very diverse skill set and devotion to each other, in their own manner. So she nodded briefly, responding to the woman as she attempted to shake the dark thoughts that plagued her in her evaluation of this band of mercenaries and patriots.

[b]"You are correct, Solanne. Guess that show's why I keep you around..."[/b]

It was the closest she got to joking, and she would have continued if Jerod had not stumbled upon the two of them. Niya glared at the mercenary, and if looks could kill the man would not have left enough remains to fill his boots. She detested the man, a drunken sellsword who abandoned the very government he had sworn his sword to, or that was how she saw it. She didn't know the whole truth of it, but she did not know that and did not care to hear him out. She knew all she thought she had to. With a scowl and biting remark aimed at Jerod, she turned and her tone softened towards Solanne afterwords before she retired.

[b]"Drunken wretch of a scoundrel. I go to retire for the evening, Solanne, may you find a peaceful night's rest."[/b]

Jerod, for his credit, rolled his eyes and sighed, not rising up to her little comment as he watched her walk off and shook his head. She did not know the half of what she was talking about, but he didn't have the energy to try and correct her. She wouldn't have believed it anyways. The mercenary was merely hoping it would not interfere with her doing her job, or himself doing his.