"Ha ha! Bear mine. We no trouble until fight! Gya ha ha ha!" Orchid seemed quite jolly not only at riding Torus into this camp, but just the general atmosphere of being part of this large camp of neer-do-wells and sellswords. It was very possible that, had he found this army before the others, Orchid may have been one of the many that his party would have to fight at Greenest. But he didn't really think about that and just enjoyed the thrill of being a bear riding warrior. He was half tempted to actually go start a fight, however they had a mission; leading this "prisoner" to the stocks. Or prison. Or wherever it was that they send him. Parum's plan to make Orchid post as dumb muscle would work well as his intelligence was truly on the low end of things.

"Uh. Where prisoner go? Orchid and bear hungry. Little chicken not enough for big man like Orchid!" The dim barbarian said as he could smell some camps cooking some sort of stew in the distance. As they moved on a hooded figure approached. He didn't dress like a mere merc like the rest of the crew, so Orchid assumed he was a cultist. "Hoi! Prisoner get! Big man put up fight, but no match for Orchid and Bear! Boss says man prisoner. Where take prisoner?" There wasn't a hint of deception in Orchid's voice, thanks to his ignorance; he considered Parum his "boss" since she seemed to know what she was doing, and Brannor did indeed put up a fight, and Orchid's own arrogance assured him that he and Torus (The bear) could defeat him with ease. He was also genuinely uncertain where the prisons was.

@Irredeemable@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought

So far so good. They met no resistance at the entrance, and the only person who came to question them didn't seem to care about the adventurers themselves but Torus who was a bear. With some quick wit Parum managed to turn the man away and they were in. The halfling's heart was racing despite the confidence facade she had on. Once inside however Parum got a better picture of what they were dealing with. Certainly a large field army camp, that was easy enough to discern. She's seen a few in their travels and this place doesn't look too unusual from one. It was more fortified than one that could be quickly packed up and left, but she imagined it was because this place was far more important. It was surely the location of the dragon hatchery that their prisoner had spoken of. That being said, no dragons aside from the kobolds. There was likely a cave entrance for them somewhere around the area. The large tent with the largest guard presence by be the tent of Cyanwrath or the one who typically hires the mercenaries. Parum made a mental note to avoid that place; if it was Cyanwrath he'll no doubt recognize herself or Brannor, and even if it was the mysterious black-haired employer, Parum wasn't sure she could deceive her of their actual employment.

Orchid was shooting off the mouth which made Parum give him a mean look and a sharp word. "Silence! I don't want you to make us look like fools." And more importantly blow their cover. While Orchid surely didn't mean to act so foolish, she did need him to be quiet less he say something that ruins this entire operation. He should at least be more subtle about it. Unfortunately Parum could see someone approaching. They were a small group in a large area, and there was no reason for just one person to come right at them if they didn't have some questions to ask. But Parum remained stone face and never dropped her facade, ignoring the hooded person as he approached and leading the group further in. She needed to find someone who seemed to be of authority, a Sargent or something, and perhaps continue to milk their "new hire" status to get simple questions like where the prisons were, who leaders are, or maybe even what their next operation was.

The cultist camp, illumined by the ever burning sky candle, glowed warmly in the midst of the white bonfires settled in the chasm’s encampment. The bear, heralding a savior upon its saddle and a trophy in their midst, entered, hoping both Parum and Orchid could uphold the façade, if bombarded with scrutiny and inquisition. Torus recovered from his growling consternation and led them ignominiously into the outer ring of the grounds. A chill wind blustered, nipping his fur sharply and bit with striking venom into the tuft of his neck which the half-blood employed as reins.

He eventually stood still, attempting a soporific appearance as someone interrogated their presence and purpose. The frost of the situation soon drove the sailor to paw the soil nervously with his hind feet. Miserable and disconsolate, the ursine mule wandered and wondered with his thoughts, about the many tents and the strength in number and magic. Here and there, savage draconic fiends rushed and bristled the corners of his peripheral vision. His neck hair snarled, but instinctively released them unmolested.

To his astonishment, they had disappeared quickly into the maze of their portable gazebos and pergolas. Again his mind digressed, aimlessly circling the logistical hierarchy of the marquees and bivouacs seen. Suddenly the soil gave way beneath his fore legs and he sank down. Something wriggled under his feet. His attention sprang back unconsciously, bristling and grimacing, fearful of the unseen and unknown.
A friendly whiff of fetid air ascended to the omnivore’s nostrils, and there, curled up under the blanket of the sun. His brain whined placatingly, squirmed and wriggled to not show his good will and intentions, and even ventured, as a false bribe for peace, willing to lick the barbarian’s face with his wet tongue, suggestive of a domesticated pet.

Another lesson.

The day had been long and arduous, and his body slept soundly and comfortably, though the wildshape sneered and grumbled with the bad dreams before him. Nor did he open his old green eyes till roused by the noises of their ruse forsaken. As the Hin guided them deeper, the furry wall internally pressed upon him on every side, and a great surge of fear swept through him.

The apprehension of a trap.

It was a token that he was harking back through his own pirate life to the existence of his possessor’s forebears in Amn. For he was an unduly civilized criminal, and of his own experience knew no con could snare itself, unless one donned the noose himself. The muscles of his large corpus contracted spasmodically and instinctively, the follicles on his shoulders stood on end, and with a low rumbling sneer, he continued to lead the bound Brannor, straight up into the blinding day.

A shout eventually hailed their formation, arresting both the anxiety and curiosity, bringing an end to this fool's brigade, in one fell yell.

Brannor almost snarled at being pushed and prodded along, both out of his own natural reaction to this predicament and that he knew well to keep up the ruse they so desired. If any of the plentiful enemy would recognize him they too knew him as a great threat, which was to say the claim the green-skin made was only bolstered. It only was further compounded that whatever the hunter was within, he was a monster by any metric, which once upon a time - long before his travels out to the land surrounding Greenest - was a point of deep contention rather than purpose. What could a young heart, so gripped by nature's might, actually do if it was set free? Even briefly witnessed as it was, it was a thing to be reckoned with and somehow the source of other mythic things still concealed within.

That was what made this fine line so perilous to walk for the man despite being surrounded by a newfound company willing to dive into the heart of evil here; that he would need keep in mind the greater goal and instead temper himself. Thus rather than allowing the burning within to surface, his eyes followed the terrain and the tents, noting a band of presumed prisoners - for they were men and women under guard and in chains - hauling a number of chests, boxes, crates and other goods. All of them were observed carefully for the slightest infraction by their captors, all of whom bore scornful eyes.

No will to fight or resist... Brannor's mind wandered, disappointed that they would rather serve than die trying. This note however, how the armored albeit no longer armed agent of the noble wild's call viewed them, stirred that heartfelt motivation further; if they would not kill these monsters themselves, he would do it. He would do it in due time.

Soon the bear, rather the old man masquerading as the brown beast, tugged him along toward more prisoners. All of whom were at work with menial things. Fortunately, they seemed to lack the same scrutiny and supervision of those their infiltrating band saw earlier. Easy prey as they were to mingle amidst, this place now where he hoped they might take him, the man gritted his jaw and peered further for any other sign of their target only to instead be rewarded with nothing. The rest of his senses provided no added insight either, not that Brannor expected any - at best the camp smelled of smoke, beasts of burden, and the filthy lot who toiled in it.

This went on for a ways during their plodding march before the heightened awareness of the aspiring paladin noted something off, something odd. A man here and there consistently seemed to be spying them. While initially problematic, not fond of being stared at for any number of reasons Brannor could admit, the rest of the enemy's number seemed to pay them no added mind. No alarm, concern, conversation... anything, in fact.

Just what had this man's attention and why?

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Irredeemable

As they walked through the camp Parummlet her eyes analyze the camp and its inhabitants. With just a looks she was investigating the camp and trying to size up who lead things around the camp. Find the task masters, pretend to be part of the army, go where they’re “needed” and infiltrate that way. Parum noted some ragged looking folks being ordered around by better kept and fed thugs, as well as a few cultish looking types away from the more rough and tumble mercs. And of course kobolds out of the wazzoo. Parum looked at all of these people and tried to get an idea going.

”We’re gunna put you ya work, ‘prisoner’. Do a good job and you might not die. No promises.” Parum said with an arrogant swagger as she lead Brannor to where it looked like some prisoners were being forced to labor. She lead the group in that direction hoping to find some leads.

The great encampment of their enemy echoed with the minuscule announcement of their now settled quarry. It was not followed by any wild cheering, nor any booming snarls of drakes mingling with the booming shouts of the cultists. However, flaps of tents were occasionally thrown aside to vantage the newcomers. Although the bowl-shaped bivouac of sorts was large, even by dwarven standards, it was seemingly crammed to capacity. Nearly all of Greenest’s assailants must have arrived, gathered and assembled in one winepress of a chasm.

Brannor followed steadfastly the impersonating Parum; the giant wereman held reverently in chains, led to the indentured toil ahead. The footsteps increased in number, but Torus could discern a different sound, from within, roaring against the great vault of his mind’s ceiling, reverberating through the furry hall of his body. It seemed his bear's frame shook with the unheeded vibrations, as the druid winced as the noise made his head throb. He was suddenly stifled in the leering crowd. The ursine monstrosity, hazardly bucked the half-blood off, quickly releasing the enclosed pirate embarrassingly on all fours.

"My roots will be glad when the dew finally seeps."

The aged sailor muttered to the shed Orchid, rising and standing next to him. His face, which always beget melancholy initially, seemed even darker and more brooding than usual, to compensate for the ruse. The end of his sentence remained pungent with silence, lingering upon the nature of its receipt of all who glanced the transition, as the motley crew marched deeper into the belly of the crevasse of their nemesis.

The Bard led the group on an approach towards the area where quite a few prisoners were being used to look after the pack animals of the cult's small army. While there were less people around these parts and almost no kobolds, the few that stayed around seemed quite vigilant. Of course the prisoners were only looking out for the guards so they would not get attacked or something, but the glint in the eyes of the well armed cult members showed that the approach of the troupe had not gone unnoticed. One of the guards straightened her back and raised her spear's end from the soil. "A new catch, hm? Had not expected those to be coming in any longer, but we can look into it for certain. Hold him there for a hot second and we'll get the chains", she promised, nodding towards an evidently lower ranking man nearby who dashed off.

Unfortunately as well as this seemed to be going, the Druid's magic would run out at a very inopportune moment. As the bear suddenly disappeared, and Orchid fell downwards, the guard raised her eyebrow. "Hm? What was that?" she asked, looking awfully suspicious. It would be for the best to figure out a solid explanation in a real hurry, before she called more attention to it. Luckily she had not seen the whole ordeal, only the fact that the Half-Orc had suddenly tumbled downwards and that an old man showed his face soon after. Yet her both hands were now on the handle of her spear. She was ready.


@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Irredeemable

Someone was giving him an odd look. That wasn't really an issue though, at least not until... A druid, huh? He hadn't actually seen one of nature's warriors in action, but there wasn't really anything else, or anyone else that he knew of that could transform into a bear. A shame that the magic had run out... He picked up the speed he was walking at, pulling his cloak down over his face and cleared his throat. "There's a meeting at the tent, you're needed."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he had messed up. His voice didn't sound certain at all, and it almost broke at one part. Far from being convincing, he had probably inadvertently put her even more on guard than before. Hopefully the group would take the chance to do something.

So far everything seemed to be going just fine. Orchid was frankly just enjoying his high of being mounted on a bear acting like some bigshot legendary warrior. That high was quickly gone when that bear turned into a man. Specifically back to Torus. Even a fool like him knew that this scene didn't look good. Orchid wasn't good at lying. But could play a fool quite easily. "Hah hah hah! We fight prisoner! Orchid didn't think old man was warrior, but he bear man! But now bear man back to old man!" Frankly the barbarian wasn't sure what he was saying either, but hopefully explaining a bit of Torus's powers would be enough for the guard to make the simple connection that he was a mere druid, and not say, heroes attempting to liberate the camp or kill all evil doers. Orchid did try to distract the attention from this gaff. By boasting. "We go forest. Ambush prey! Saw prisoner, he had shiny sword. Orchid want shiny sword." Orchid took out Brannor's greatsword, admiring it's make and design. "Big party, no problem, prisoner alone. But prisoner tough! Kill many. But no match for Orchid and bear man! Haha, but Prisoner not so strong. No weapon, no problem. Make strong slave." Orchid rested the blade on his shoulder and sneered at Orchid, looking so cocky that even he started believing that he could take Brannor in a fight. Just to top it all off, Orchid even flexed his orcish muscles at the female guard as if he was trying to impress her with his feat of strength... Somehow.

The man who stumbled in did not exactly convince the guard captain, but it seemed he had chosen a well worded ruse for themselves. Whether it was through sheer luck or careful background research, the she did not immediately oust him, but simply raised an eyebrow at the unsure claim of the man. "Really now? I thought that was only later in the day. Nonetheless, they can wait until I've finished dealing with this group, so run along now", she ordered, dismissing the lowly messenger.

It was then that the green fellow spoke up and the guard captain got to listen to his story. It, by all accounts, made sense. With the exception of the old man turning to a bear and back to serve as a mount for some barbarian and then walking into the camp still as a bear, but senility came in many forms. She shook her head and released her two handed grip on the spear. "That has got to be the most absurd story I have yet had the privilege of hearing in this job, but devout followers come in many forms. Praise Tiamat's glory", she answered, the final words repeated with a surprising lack of enthusiasm.

The man that had ran off returned with a set of shackles for the new prisoner. "Ah, here we are. If you would hold your catch for a moment longer so that we can get him fitted, that would be the end of your need to be looking after them. I'll see to you getting your reward for bringing in someone who seems quite capable, but that shall depend on how he performs. So, who are you people? Morndath is your boss, right? I don't remember seeing you around before", she kept up sort of a conversation as her assistant moved in to secure Brannor.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Irredeemable

The woman betrayed her spirit by being outright devoid of energy or dedication to this dragon cult and less to its supposed "god of dragons". Were he not in the midst of their camp, the man would have just cut her down then and be done with it as he would the rest of these scale-worshiping fools, or worse those without even the character to devote to it, given they had nothing to the fiber of their person. No soul or spirit as whatever had once been there was sacrificed on an altar of self interest; not even that humble know-nothingness or fear of that which wasn't them in the peasants Brannor had a complicated relationship with. These folk? They were better off put down like the mongrels they were, little more than tools for their far more wicked masters.

So he snarled slightly at the threat of the shackles as the woman's aide drew closer; the sizable hunter showed no outward fear, instead only offering a subtle warning to the man in his low, deep voice, building off of Orchid's tale and spoken quietly so that he might only hear as the others were distracted, "It would be in your best interest to not take me so lightly. You are quite lucky you and your friends are so numerous..."

The towering figure so slightly flexed his hands and forearms, his knuckles popping with an audible crack as his balled fists were made part of the display and presented to the enemy; in actuality this was a ruse and a distraction, just as his words were. If the man would go about shackling and chaining him as he would now, it might make the escape from the bonds later just that much easier. Not that Brannor had no other plan - on the contrary in fact - yet any added opportunity to ensure he could more readily free himself without resorting to... the more extreme options was welcome, as was looking to add confirmation to the half-blood's recounting.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Irredeemable

Parum didn't even bother to give a word of warning as she punched Orchid in the gut. "I swear to all nine hells if you don't shut up I'm going to stab you in the balls, ya dumb green pig!" Parum was both annoyed at Orchid constant talking despite having told him specifically to just be silent before this infiltrated began, as well as to reassert her authority over her group, less people start thinking that Orchid was calling the shots. "Now stop being an idiot and keep the prisoner still. Otherwise he's going to break out and throttle you, and I won't stop him." Parum ordered Orchid as she turned to the guard captain. She asked if they were new and with Morndath, which sounds like a woman's name. Likely the one that their prisoner had spoken of. "Woman, dark hair, wears purple? Something like that. I haven't had the pleasure to meet with her in person, but we were assigned orders from her. We just joined recently looking for work. We're not exactly the religious type, as you can see." Parum motioned towards their ragged looking band of miscreants plus a prisoner.

"We came from the last raid at that little village, Greenest I think. Took us a while though since our gang were a bunch of lazy idiots," Parum looked at Orchid and Torus to continue to maintain the image of the gruff and annoyed party leader. "And a couple of those kobolds too. So we weren't exactly in a hurry to get back. Useless bunch of vermin by the way. The moment the prisoner took down one of our guys they ran with their tails between their squat legs. Anyways... How have things been here?" Quite invested into her disguise Parum chatted with the guard.

Speaking primarily out of instinct and not from instruction, the verdant half-blood provided an explanation to the queries in disconcerting speech, only to be rescued by the Hin, who swelled a hidden ruse, seemingly only to bare to the gods looking down curiously from the heavens. The old man sensed that they were in the deepest tract of Hell, courtesy of the foreordained ruse fabricated by the cerulean adorned Halfling. This mission originated out of the necessitated mandate to strike against Tiamat and her horde. To avenge a village and prevent devastation upon other Greenests to come.

As Parum further concocted the tale afore the interrogators, the sailor chose the blissful restraint of silence, in hopes to seduce any future foul revolt and allow further infiltration into this ambitious hive. His tongue, though, often delighted in spouting cryptography at opportune times, an infernal serpent, whose muscular guile frequently stirred up envy and revenge under Xaron’s unruly authority. She was once the mother of his mankind, priding and casting him from his cerebral haven, for over half a century. His mind, now no longer dethroned, mounted against other rebellious angels whom opted to sway it from its rightful monarchy.

The whispers of an impious war straddled the druid’s quivering fingers, which quickly sought solace in strumming the beard below his pursed lips. His skin cackled of a bottomless perdition, aged with a hideous ruin and combustion dwelling within penal wrinkles and chained weakness. The sailor’s briny hide contrasted against a navy robe below a Minotaur pelt, partnered with the gnome skull of Yorick and other scavenged belongings.

He stood still.

With a demeanor reserved in a slumped stance, as his eyes measured and darted the space between the mortal men and women who would judge the immediate fate of Brannor and his company.

The guard captain listened to Brannor snarling at her and her assistant. For someone bound as they were, the man sure put up a threatening aura. The captain bit her lower lip, yet a glint of something played in her eyes. She was sure the appearance of this man reminded her of something, if only she could recall... But she had to turn her attention elsewhere while her assistant worked, to listen to the response she would get from the leader of this new arriving bunch. She would have to admit her errand boy would have to have nerves of steel to pull of that job without a hitch.

Parum's answer seemed to satisfy her, the woman nodding along and chuckling a bit as the woman only about half the size of the half-orc punched the green guy in the gut. "Yeah, that's her", she confirmed Parum's suspicions regarding having pieced together who they were talking about. "The kobolds were never really reliable in scary stuff. If they weren't so fiercely loyal to the cause we'd boot them for being so... finicky to work with. But in the end they get the job mostly done and come back more often than not, so by sheer numbers alone, I guess we have our uses for them. Same as you mercs, we need the blades to amass the hoard", she rambled on only to be interrupted by the man working on the shackles.

"Hoard befitting the Queen of Dragons return! Praise Tiamat's glory!" they shouted, extending their right arm in the air with all five fingers spread apart. A furious glare from the captain got him back to work quickly as Brannor's companions continued 'holding him down'. While his hands shook a bit, his concentration was remarkable. Where the guard captain seemed disinterested in the whole 'cult' thing, this errand boy appeared as if he had absorbed it all off of her, if such a thing were even possible. Brannor would find the shackles slightly looser than they should be, but regrettably well set. It might be difficult to get them off on his own.

"Get that prisoner to the transporting duty. They need more meat in the nursery and he looks like he might actually be able to carry something, unlike most of the sorry lot here", the captain ordered, waving her arm at her immediate underling as well as those who had been helping keep the man down. She had no reason to believe the man would not be trying something funny if left alone with a cultist. "Anyway, your names. I cannot just ask Morndath to provide a reward for a bunch of no-names", she then insisted.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Irredeemable

"Oof!" Orchid keeled over as Parum punched his guts. Had he been expecting it she wouldn't even tickled him, but he had almost forgotten that the halfling was even here. Just a few inches lower and she would have done some serious damage. "Sorry boss..." Orchid recovered shortly after, quiet this time. Partly to maintain the ruse, mostly because such treatment was normal for him back at the forests. His teachers, while wise folk, always made sure to correct his mistakes quickly and simply. And nothing was simpler than a smack. As ordered Orchid went to hold Brannor, putting the man into a bear hug. It probably wouldn't have really stopped Brannor if he did want to get out, less so since Orchid most likely would let him out, but it at least looked like he was trying. Once Brannor was properly bound up the guard captain told Orchid to escort Brannor to transporting duty. It looked like Orchid was about to, but stopped and looked at Parum, as if asking if he had permission to do so or not. He really wasn't sure.

"Yup yup." Parum said simply. While she looked like she was just shooting the breeze, she was actually carefully listening to the guard captain, taking in the information for important clues. Firstly was that it seemed like the kobolds and the cultists weren't quite as cooperative as Parum had thought. While they were both loyal to the purpose of bringing Tiamat back to their world, there didn't seem to be much cohesion with the little dragon yelps and the cults. Not only that but it seemed like the cult itself wasn't as big as Parum had thought, if it was mostly mercenaries padding out their numbers rather than true believers. It made Parum wonder just how many actually realized what they were fighting for here and what it'd mean if they 'won'. The second thing came from the errand boy; he had praised Tiamat's glory and raised his hand into the air, his fingers spread. It wasn't hard for Parum to figure out the details; this was obviously some sort of cult-related hand sign or greeting, with each finger representing each of Tiamat's heads. A trivial piece of information perhaps, but Parum would remember it nonetheless.

The third thing that Parum noted was that they were going to take Brannor to the nursery. Assuming that they weren't raising war orphans here, this confirmed Parum's suspicion that this place was where the dragon's nest was. That alone would explain why they'd attack Greenest, since no doubt they'll need as much livestock as they could get to feed their dragon horde. It also confirmed that this must be their main camp, even if there seemed to be a suspicious lack of security here. That's when the guard asked for their names, and Orchid was giving her a look. She sighed and just returned his look with one of disbelief. "What? Are you waiting for a vision or something? Go escort the prisoner! If you don't know where to go yourself then just follow that guy." Parum waved Orchid off to let him go find the nursery alongside Brannor while Parum spoke to the guard captain. "Anyways... My name is Parum. The half-orc is Orchid. The old man is Torag. The elf is Shepard. I'm more or less the leader of this lot since I can think beyond just killing the next person we're told to kill."

Well, he was sure now. These were not anyone he had ever seen, which meant that they were likely not mercenaries. This meant that they were indeed talking bullshit about being mercs... Which in turn meant that he needed to find out why they were here, and quite possibly try to dissuade them from doing anything too drastic here. If they were to actually try a direct assault (unlikely since their numbers was rather small, but a vanguard was possible...) then his cover would likely be broken here. He needed to slip one of them a message discreetly. He just hoped at least one of them was literate.

The guard captain chuckled at Parum's annoyed commands at her sluggish pawns. "Underlings, am I right?" she asked once the escorting part of the group was out of earshot. "Just to make sure I got this right, the group of one Parum, containing people such as Orchid, like the flower, Torag, that one that changes forms for whatever reason and Shepard, the one who does not talk?" she asked for confirmation as she visibly tried to commit the names to memory. She had lost interest in Rebrer as soon as he had taken the dismissal to heart and scampered away. Once she would have her confirmation with or without any corrections, she would dismiss this group just like she had dismissed him.

---

If the rest of the party were not to interfere, the cultist in prisoner guarding duty would haul Brannor over to a few well armed and respected members of the cult with their assistance. Not many words would be exchanged. New prisoner? Yup. Here to haul food? Yup. And off he would go, to join others in a line with a rope tied around his waist. If he were to go along with the plan, he would find out that the crates would unfortunately only be brought to the mouth of the cave instead of wholly inside... but on approach, there would be something interesting to see. Cyanwrath, his adversary from last night, would push out from the big tent nearby and head in. Luckily well before they would arrive at said location. Even in his current state, recognition might only make things worse.

Cyanwrath.

The burden of battle did not relinquish any hindrance or injury to the draconic knight as he bellowed into an adjacent tent, not diagnosing that yester eve’s skirmish desired a potential rematch. If he saw any of them, the scam would be deciphered and all would congregate in chains alongside Brannor. However, the sailor appreciated that wile hoax still persisted, all to gain ground, inching closer to the mouth of hive.

The hoard amassed for the horde.

Torus agreed to the befitting moniker. “Yes. I am Torag.” His briny eyes peered into the gaze of Rebrer. "Parum, I am curious if the glory we have been scavenging for Tiamat holds true for any nearby food. This wineskin of a stomach needs refilling. Care to oblige, sir?” The question aimed its poison at the cloaked messenger.

"Yup, that's us. Just bring the reward to me and I'll split it up among the others. Half of these guys can't even count and one of them is a greedy thief, so I have to make sure these louts don't tear each other apart over a few silvers." Parum said to the captain. After they were dismissed she looked to Torag who wanted to know where to get food. As much as she wanted to stick everyone together, she needed to let them spread out a bit more, less the camp wonder what they were up to. If they stayed together in their own circle people might get curious, and while there was an inherent danger in going around alone, at least this way it was easier for them to individually go unnoticed. "I'm sure the last group stole some cows or something. They hit up that farming town not too long ago so I'm sure they have something for you. Anyways I need to take a piss."

Dismissing herself Parum went off to "take a piss" though in truth she was actually looking for Leosin. She'd have to leave it to Brannor to find him if he is among the slaves, but if he is not, Parum needed to find him herself. Surely there was an area around here where they keep prisoners in cages or stocks, and she knew what Leosin looked like so it was just a matter of finding a half-elf like figure with dark hair. She tried her best not to be "sneaking" around and just look like she's casually milling about, occasionally walking towards the forest if she see's a big group. If anyone asks what she was doing she'd tell them she was going to take a piss until they leave so she could resume her search. Parum also wanted to get an idea of the camp's area and location, keeping a mental note of all the guard towers, tents, and whatever else looked important here.