The "imprisoned" huntsman, to use such a term quite lightly in the context of the ploy they lived through and with in this moment, found himself in the company of other chain-bound bodies. Some seemed to be those of Greenest, though the man knew nothing of them that rubg familiar short of that, and some outsider from a place he had even less knowledge of given it was only their dialect and accent that exposed them as an obvious foil to the rural, scared folk he knew well now. It was no less mundane the work they had them doing, but what was odd about it was the sheer amount of armed guard who kept watch on the camp over them, as though their task held some higher importance.

That or there were just many where he was, but the speechless warrior did not bother to debate it any further when, upon one of his many trips as a bearer of their burdens, did the crate he seemed to carry feel almost alive. It was almost as if an animal was sealed within the box, but the man knew otherwise from the start - no beast would be so calm or content normally. Something else had to be at work here, especially as they trusted to and fro from the mouth of a cave and back.

On one such journey, as the silent warden worked in plain sight, his eyes drifted to a strange gathering of poles in the camp. They seemed ritualistic at first, almost totems or a standing of some sort of symbolic structure, but as he focused on them, oddly two figures seemed bound to them. Immediately the thought of their purpose being more mythical and mystic disappeared and a more reasonable recognition settled in thought. This was not to say his hunches were correct or even apt, but they struck him as nothing short of a place of punishment.

Why else would people be tied to such things like beasts of the herd right before their slaughter? Nothing else seemed sacrificial in this sense, not that he had any luck or any attempt in evading his work thrust on him, but it seemed reasonable. They were either examples to be made public, those that failed the cult or something else.

Such musings and thoughts were not allowed a long period of maturation for as his tasks moved him elsewhere in time. Now he found himself working among the common men, the captives yet, in their shantytown of twiggy, filthy tents and muddy paths. This elicted a reasonable perception from the woodsman, who was so tied to nature at its eternal and inexplicable roots, of contempt which welled up from within him; nothing seemed to be redeemable about this cult. The only credible, reasonable answer in time was righteous rage...

All he could do now in this moment was to hope his companions in hiding would find out more than what he managed, as the most he could relay was his suspicions their missing monk laid either in the land of the tents or among the odd poles. Until then, he busied himself with ears and eyes wide open to whatever else came his way. The "hard labor" was more tedious than strenuous as it were anyway, the sort of thing that laid to rest any sort of mental exercise.

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

Orchid followed the prisoners (including Brannor) for a short while, escorting them as ordered until they were sent to the edge of the cave. From there the prisoners were taken back to their pens and thus Orchid was left with not much to do. While the barbarian was in no way a scholar, he wasn't a complete fool either, and knew that this was be a good time for him to try and scout around the area. In the back of his mind an idea resurfaced: obtaining new weapons and armor. Sure, Brannor's sword was nice, but Orchid wanted more. Surely the raiders had brought back some sort of weapon or protection that wasn't going into the horde. So after leaving the prisoners behind Orchid went to find whoever was the blacksmith around here, assuming that they didn't just raid for all their weapons as well.

"Need better sword! Where get better sword?" Orchid asked random members, looking somewhat intimidating via overshadowing most of the people he spoke to. That being said, his crude and unsophisticated grasp of the language made him look almost as foolish and he sounds. Almost. "Sharp blade, unbreakable armor, where?" Orchid looked to everyone smaller than him and demanded answers. He did a bit of looking himself too, but there weren't exactly many smoke stakes in the camp and he didn't hear hear any hammers.

Rebrer looked up at the man addressing him. Food, huh? Looking around to double check that he was indeed the person being talked to, before nodding. "Mess hall. I can take you there." He indicated for the stranger to follow him, before beginning to walk. As soon as he was out of earshot, he turned to the human, a hand on his rapier. "I know you're not a mercenary group. So, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Soon all of the newcomers had dispersed from the immediate vicinity of the station the guard captain was taking care of. The pink haired woman and the half-orc had headed off to help escort the prisoner they had brought with them, the halfling girl that apparently was leading this bunch had loudly declared they'd be going for a piss now... wasn't she an interesting one, this... Parum, she thought was her name. Then there had been the old man who now talked with the messenger that... oh yes, she was awaited at the big tent. "Jamison, keep a look out for things while I go visit the big tent. In case the meeting is earlier I'd not like to have Morndath wait", she gave an order to another guard and headed off to see if the message had been truthful. She swore to Tiamat if this was another prank...

Parum's search was not interrupted by many, though when moving in the vicinity of the cave mouth and the big tent she was ordered to move away once. Knowing it would be unwise to return, she would stay away for the time being... but being there had revealed the location of the poles Brannor had spotted earlier to her. And unlike him, she could get closer too. And would you look at that, one of the prisoners bound here was indeed a dark haired half-elf. It might be too much to hope that to be Leosin, but unless Brannor would have found anything on the contrary, this just might be it. She lingered for a moment... should she risk talking to the man?

Orchid's search was... less fruitful than he would have hoped. Try as he might, the people here could only offer 'no can do' or 'talk to me again when you pass the initiation rites'. And to his dismay, there was no such thing as a forge here. Apparently the army did not arm themselves here, hinting at the fact this might actually be but a forward camp built to make it easier to attack and keep watch over the eggs. And yet there were people in the hundreds around. One man that wore an eyepatch even laughed at his notion about unbreakable armour. "Look at you, looking for things like that! No such thing as unbreakable armour in existence, lad! Come, have a drink and tell me what has you so upset!" the apparent veteran would suggest, sensing the relative inexperience of the green barbarian.

As for Torus, now under the pseudonym of Torag, he was being led towards the mess tent by Rebrer when he was asked the fateful question by the fellow undercover agent. Could this man be trusted, the old druid wondered to himself. It was not a matter they could respond to that lightly. The tone used was almost accusing. Yet this man had only spoken the words in a hushed tone and out of earshot of others, even tried to cover up for them at the guard captain though his attempts had not been entirely successful. Maybe, just maybe, they would be worth his trust. He was leaning on the side of that being positive, however.


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

Dark hair. Elven features. A prisoner. While these descriptions were very general, Parum couldn’t deny that this seemed too good to go to waste. Surely this man was Leosin, and all she’d need to do is find a way to get him out of here. The cover of night would be best, since right now trying to even interact with him during the day would be too suspicious. More so since, unlike the other prisoners, he seems to be crucified for some reason. If Larum had to guess he must have done something to threaten the cultists here. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to be executed soon.

”All the more reason I need to act fast.[/color] Parum notes that Brannor had also spotted the same man. Perhaps she could use him to confirm his identity, or at least have a reason to get close. But even so Parum couldn’t get close to Brannor either, less she expose some prior relationship between herself and him. No, for now she’ll have to go on her own. Gather more information. But perhaps she could speak to him at a later time.

”Who’s the poor sod tied up over there? Some ring leader or something?” Parum has returned to the captain she had spoken to earlier for a few more questions.

"I know you're not a mercenary group. So, what the fuck are you doing here?"

The pirate was seized off guard, slightly by the tyrannical abruptness of the inquisition. The feet of the sailor scuffled, with durst dislike his reign of his words, imbuing an adverse power against the dubious query.

“Tiamat’s hunger knows no rapture, friend. Left unbridled, her harvest will feast on all the fruits of Toril.”

The cryptic ambiguity was intentional, as Torus did not trust the young merc. He lingered for a moment, to discern whether his guide would disclose further incriminating or liberating evidence. The old man truly yearned, to shake the ark of the hooded man’s mental sanctuary, in a subtle fashion as to not attract attention nor to relinquish the previous farce, lest the surrounding propitiation redeemed with immortal revenge against those not sharing the wrath of the hoard, be forfeit. The beard and eyes swiveled its paired gaze over the encampment, indulging in the enormity of such an enterprise.

“A famine quickly depletes a region of prey. Hence, predators must migrate from hill to coast to feed their ilk’s massive bulk.”

The sailor entered the Mess Hall, seeking to understand their extent of provisions or rations and to delineate numbers, by the potential occupancy of such a deranged cafeteria.

@Hekazu@Irredeemable

The huntsman, feigning captive as he was, shared an off glance with the small woman that turned out to indeed be Parum and something of interest sparked in her eyes. She hesitated, almost paused for a moment as they looked to one another then went on with her business, back wherever it seems she had come from; Brannor reasoned this to be near where they had dismissed him from. But to what ends? It seemed plausible she had learned something, yet at this moment had no opportunity to share it or split the savage warrior from the work detail he was placed in without arousing suspicion. Such a case was what the man took as truth more than anything, the theorizing and hypotheticals of what the rest found themselves to neither his business or interest, rather that she seemed to have gleaned something and just had not the chance to intervene.

What was confirmed to him was that the moment he had the opportunity, he would prefer to put his armored hands upon more of these pathetic creatures' thin necks and seize the life from them. Not because he had any particular malice, these tiny dragon things and their servants seemed like any other quarry outwardly, rather he would not be troubled or trespassed upon by their vileness and latent evil. This cult made a terrible mistake upon raiding Greenest and simply vanishing as they did, so the sooner the blade could be swung to hew their scouts and their numbers - to send a message they had crossed a line - the better. If only the town itself had at last sent messengers out, not that they would return soon by any means, no more than a day being past, but hunting even a small army was a suicidal task by its self; he could kill them when and where they slept, when their backs were laid bare and they thought themselves safe, skulking about outside the firelight as a true monster, a terror they should well know, but not as their great number here and not now.

They still needed this monk, for reasons the man could not remember despite having ample time between moving crates and apparent loot. In fact, the entirety of that exchange was now a hazy, distorted memory, one possessed of restrained and wavering fury, the tail end of an avalanche or the last flickers of a wildfire. Certainly they were mighty when enflamed or rolling, but having survived a would-be death only to wake to an intruder whilst in its thrall made for confusing thoughts. Perhaps his mind would be clearer when the darkness of night would fall, when these dragon cultists would become still; then too might it be he had an opportunity to seek his answers out, or better yet, the others have already done so...

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

Orchid would scream, and he often did, when the cultists and bandits informed him that the loot he so desired was unavalible to him. Either they did not know or Orchid was not worthy, which frustrated him to no end. He was just a hates breath from taking out his blade and demanding that he be allowed this “initiation rites” when a grizzled veteran of a man coaxed him into taking a drink. Orchid downed the bitter brew when offered, somewhat placated.

”Ugh. Orchid need weapon, armor. Become mighty! Like dragon!”

Orchid took out the machete given to him by his elven kin. It was sleek and sharp, despite Orchid’s lack of care for it. The blade was scratched, knicked, and pitted at some places, but still as sharp as it was when it was made. It’s broad blade was perfect for Orchid’s brute force combat style. ”Orchid see Dragon. Orchid think, be strong, like dragon! But how? Orchid think more, Orchid think Orchid need loot. Weapon and armor, taken from dead warriors. Like dragon do, yeah?”

Well, he wasn't getting anything out of the pirate. He was babbling nonsense about Tiamat, and whilst he was one hundred percent sure he was talking nothing but pure distilled horseshit, he wasn't going to call him out on it. No, instead he would need to work out which one of these fine, lying-through-their-teeth-fellows would be the one most liable to actually give him what he needed information-wise. And, now that he looked at them... This was going to be easier said than done.

In addition to each other, Parum and Brannor could both spot an alarming development. Two of the more heavily armed sort they had seen in this camp were mumbling to one another, slightly hunched and shooting suspecting glances at Brannor. To top it off, they nodded to one another and headed into the cave after just a second, leaving a message to one of the lower class guardsmen on their path. This man sprinted to catch up with the prisoners and specifically requested them to wait a bit longer. There was something they would need to check. Real quick, nothing too major. The prisoners would be back to work soon. And so they stopped, retreating a bit back towards the mouth of the cave from the big tent's immediate vicinity.

Parum had other things on her mind as well though, since she spotted the guard captain they had chatted with earlier on her way to the big tent and briefly stopped her to ask a question: Who was that half-elf tied up to that one pole? "That guy? I don't really know. The wearers of purple put him there as soon as he was discovered amongst our ranks. Some sorta spy is all I know", she explained before excusing herself and continuing on her way. Well, that just about confirmed it. The monk had tried to infiltrate and obviously not done a very good job at it.

As for Torus, he had been left alone by the man who had asked him the question of his business just as promptly as the question had been asked. The old Druid was now left on his lonesome in the opening flap of the mess tent, where a few cultists stared at him impatiently. "Well? You gonna relieve one of us, get your food or skedaddle the hell outta here? Since you look as lost as you do, I'm guessing its the middle one. You are in luck, we just got another deer off the fire. Still warm and all. Seven copper", the more vocal one of the two stated, prompting a brief eyebrow raise from the other guy, but they soon returned to their work at the fire pit. There was a fair bit of food around here, but it wasn't that likely to be everything. They would store some somewhere else too, right? But for all it was worth, Torus could piece together they could feed a hundred or so people easily.

Rebrer's judgement led him to Orchid. The green half-breed was probably dumb enough to let something slip, unlike the smart Bard that had been leading the group, the old man speaking in cryptics or the tight lipped pink-haired... nameless one. Hell, she might not even have a voice for all that mattered. Not to mention their "prisoner" being a foolish choice... it would risk both of their cover to go talking. So Orchid it was, and by the looks of it they were already drunk too. Possibly a good thing. As long as they would not babble to the old mercenary they were with right now.

Speaking of the babblings of the half-orc, the veteran laughed sonorously and slapped himself on the knee. "Oh, man of simple things, combat and prowess are things much more than the sum of one's equipment. If you really are using Tiamat as your inspiration, you should know that while dragon hoards, they don't really use it. The pile in the cave is just to honour the might of the Mother of Dragons, or so they say. What really matters is the might that comes from within. Trust me, even with this eyepatch... I've done more good with skill than with steel", the old fighter mused as he noted Rebrer skulking about. "Ah, more merry folk! Yesterday's haul was a good one! Best one so far, wasn't it? Join us in our celebration!"

Yet where trouble had started brewing, it would also see itself through. Cyanwrath himself stepped out of the cave and as soon as he laid his eyes on Brannor, his eyes lit up in recognition and he nodded. A few orders were barked, to seek out the identities of the group that had brought him in and to bring both him and those people to the big tent. This needed a more thorough investigation, the blue scaled commander ordered.

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

Rebrer raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a less direct way of going about things would be prudent here. Whilst he had found half-orcs to be everything from ruthless killers to happy-go-lucky morons, he had a feeling that she was somewhere inbetween. Not that that mattered. Questions needed to be answered, and he doubted he was getting answers from the other folk in the party. "Name's Rebrer." He held a hand out, keeping his hood up. He had found that when undercover, you told as few lies as you need to. Fewer lies you told, fewer lies you needed to remember. Fewer lies you needed to remember, fewer lies you had to forget, and forgetting a lie could be very bad. Besides, people didn't react to other names as quick as they did the one they had been born with.

"How'd you get the prisoner?"

@Lucius Cypher

The enemy seemed suddenly wary, perhaps almost from the blue, enough so that they continued to spy the hunter in their midst time and again. They were truthfully right to be nervous as they seemed, the beast of a man would have killed them in their sleep just as carefully as he would have in a roaring frenzy with sword in tow if he had the chance to do either; an opportunity to exploit them was all he needed, all he really desired. Come to think of it, they had been wandering about this camp for some time with... virtually no success in finding this man they so needed it seemed. If it were to go on too much longer, the ruse would likely come apart faster - some of the dragon's zealots seemed to have been alarmed as noted prior, enough to put their work on stay for a short time.

Brannor, in this interim, began to devise a set of simple yet efficient means to an end, specifically that as he thought more about the cult and this raggedy camp that he would continue their ploy, if only to conceal the others. These scaly minded interlopers to the land hadn't the clarity to decipher them all, especially not if mislead. It seemed they were only concerned with him and something else, something in that cave which the warrior of the green mused on. Between what little he knew of the admissions of the cultists, caves, their motives and the almost snoring sound in the crates, it was their weakest point, emphasized by their hurriedness to return and delve into it.

Perhaps soon the huntsman could drive the blade straight into the heart of the matter and lay it down to rest, as would need be done with any sickly blight; diseased in mind men and true scaled monsters. So he took the time to admire his rusted, worn chains upon himself, thinking of the easiest way out of this danger would come when the moment presented itself. He knew well one way, but it was unreliable; he had never buckled iron before, yet he was sure he could do so if need arose. It would just be a matter of finding himself that deep into the thrall of the snarling, unquenched primal might. That would be difficult, nothing the underlying animal need to escape did not provide, but for the moment flight was impractical.

The rest needed to make themselves useful. This was going on long enough.



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

"A spy huh? Aren't spies suppose to be more stealthy?" Parum quipped, but in her mind she was both relieved and panicked. Relieved that she found Leosin. Panicking because he had been captured. Still, Parum could work with this. The camp is obviously still careless and fatten on the spoils of their victory. The fact they managed to infiltrate so easily was a testament of that. All they needed was to make a plan and perhaps they could escape from this encampment with Leosin in tow. Parum was thinking that perhaps under the cover of darkness would be best. Most of the bandits here appear to be human and again, she doubts that they expect any prisoner to try to escape. And they certainly wouldn't if they didn't have someone on the inside helping them out.

But Parum's plans were dashed when she noticed some cultists stirring about. Worse still, she saw Cyanwrath make brief appearance. She was too far to hear what had gone on but she could tell from where he had glanced that their ruse was being investigated. "Shit! No! I need more time, dammit!" Parum didn't expect Cyanwrath to have taken a personal notice of what was going on. Sure, she had expected him to be here, but to have seen Brannor himself? Parum feared that alone would unravel this entire charade. Parum needed to act fast. First she needed to find the others. Torus went to look for food so finding him would be easy enough. Orchid would be somewhat more difficult, but he didn't seem the type to try to hide away either. Parum was pretty certain she heard him yelling too. Finally she'd need to find Brannor and get him out of his cuffs somehow. So first Parum sought out Torus at wherever the field kitchen was at.

The doe slain and processed on the spit branded anger into the pirate’s heart. The cackling fire stirred an ire, which previously committed stoicism to his bound services to Nature, a law which stood as a plague to the custom of civilization. Brannor shared this deep wilderness of the soul. The elder's navy robes fringing upon the minotaur hide permitted a curiosity of nations, which deprived the sobriety of the lager of his seeming brethren.

The offered fresh sinew on spit bastardized his senses as the bandits demanded a stance, compacting the dimensions of his morality. Liberated from Xaron’s reign, his mind was generous. Shape was true, after discarding the ursine mantle, blatant and honest as an escort’s blanket on a sinful bed. The druid subdued his wrinkled composition and fierce qualities, hoping to thrive on the invention of the ruse, which Parum had earlier orchestrated.

Thus he began upon the horrid threshold of stating nothing, gleaning the necessary information of masses fed by the slaughter of Greenest and the vibrancy between the pillaged towns. The old man ignored the arrogance couched, though hunger churned his innards. Usually, a goodberry would recalitrate against the will of famishment, resisting the pangs of the flesh of man and bearing the pains of consciousness.

After he surveyed the Mess Hall, Torus returned to the miry road, which constrained and goaded the activities fretting the encampment. His feet directed towards the former path which led him previously alongside Rebrer, an inclination for familiarity which was alerted to the happenstances brewing.

It appeared the hive was alive. Something was wrong.

@Ryonara@Hekazu@Irredeemable@Lucius Cypher@The Harbinger of Ferocity

Orchid grunted as he drank more booze, feeling a bit lightheaded. ”Bleh. Good sword maker no make sword with rock and fire. Good warrior no be great warrior with boring sword.” orchid aid in his typical slurred and unsophisticated wisdom. It just made sense to him while Skill is paramount to become a strong warrior, poor equipment won’t allow him to draw out his full potential. Either the old merc didn’t understand Orchid’s thoughts or he knew something the half-Orc didn’t. Highly possible it was both.

Soon another stranger came over. Orchid vaguely recognized him as the hooded stranger who had been hanging out with them when they brought Brannor in. He wanted to know how they got him, and Orchid was much too eager to tell his tale. ”Hah! Prisoner! We fight prisoner in forest! Orchid and friends go into forest, do work. Find him! Big sword, big warrior. We outnumber. We attack! Kobolds cowards, run after one dies. Man strong, kill others. Me and bear man fight him after others die, he go down easy. One slash! Hah! Took sword.” Orchid drew out Branno/ Greatsword, holding it firm in his hands. He flourished the blade and swung it through the air recklessly.

”Was gunna take head as trophy. But boss lady says take prisoner, so we take prisoner. Boss lady says we get more shinies with prisoner. Orchid don’t care for shines unless shiny sword!”

The runners knew exactly where they were heading. They each met with a group of cultists, from which they would spread to different directions, this repeating once more before they were scouring through the entirety of the camp, looking for the names Parum, Torag, Orchid and Shepard. And to their pleasure, they could easily find two of them in the same place. "Torag and Orchid, of the group led by Parum, are we correct?" they would be addressed before being ushered to move along. "Morndath waits for you at the big tent. Won't do good to keep her waiting, so go on now." A peaceful enough suggestion on its own, but they carried themselves with a certain level of nervousness and stayed behind to make sure they would be heading for the right direction. The veteran was much less scared by this fact though.

"Oh, would you look at that! Morndath herself! You must've done well boys! Who knows, you might even get a little piece of the Hoard for yourselves to keep. Maybe even a weapon or a suit of armour for you, impatient one!" he would deliver with a boisterous laugh and raised his tankard, drinking for the good fortune of his new acquaintances. Yet once they were gone, the smile would drain off of his face as he looked after Orchid and mumbled to himself: "Just you better not go lying to her like that, lad." There was nobody close who would hear the sentiments though.

As for Parum, a cultist would jog up to her and share his business with her after a short, almost formal bow. "Parum, the leader of the bunch who brought in the newest prisoner, no? You may have struck something unexpectedly good. Morndath herself wants to meet with you. Big tent, I'm sure you know where it is. I would not keep her waiting", she was told, not much unlike the others had been. They, too, would linger to see if Parum headed in the right direction. Of course, this lingering served a dual purpose. Were one not to go, they would raise an alarm. Such were Cyanwrath's orders.

Nonetheless once everyone was gathered, Kyra having joined them just as well for the sake of upholding the ruse, they would find themselves inside the tent and standing on a rough carpet, facing two people dressed in purple. Cyanwrath they knew, who could forget something as unusual as a blue half-dragon in a span less than a day, but Morndath was a new one to them. They had seen a flash of her from the battlements, but now she was here in person. All things considered, there was a rather tomboyish look to the human, her black hair cut into something resembling a rough bowl cut and her face being of somewhat rougher disposition than most women one would meet. "Ah, there you are. So you were the ones that captured the very champion of Greenest, if I am to believe the report you gave to one of my underlings... and Cyanwrath's eyes. The latter has never done me wrong. So just to make things clear, I would like to ask a few questions."

On that final sentence, a bunch cultists in the heavier armaments stepped into the tent behind the group, two of them behind each member of the party. They would not do anything overtly hostile right off the bat, but their presence was already a sign of the leaders being careful and quite likely even suspicious around the group. Morndath would turn to look at Parum and ask a two part question: "So, who are you and why are you not on my ledgers?"

The worse had come to pass. Parum had just arrived to where Torus was located when some cultist announced that they were looking for Parum and her party. The only way this could've been worse is if Cyanwrath himself had came looking for them. Parum hoped her meek and meager presence would have gone unnoticed in his mind. But there was a very real possibility that he may vaguely remember the halfling as well. She could at least use a minor illusion to change her hair a tad bit; a darker shade of blow and shorter, which would at least help get rid of some of the more obvious features she had. But for now, if she wanted to ensure she didn't end up summarily executed, she needed to play it cool. "Morndath huh? Good. I was wondering when I'll get my pay."

As Parum approached the big tent she could see that Orchid, Torus, and Kyra were also being escorted to the big tent. This made her even more frighten; while Parum could lie through her teeth, Orchid was too brash, Torus too crypic, and she was all too well aware of Kyra's hatred for these people. Parum would have to hope that as the self-claimed leader of this group, she'd be allowed to do all the talking. Parum made sure that she kept up her tough facade, and if things go down badly she could at least fight to the bitter end with some dignity. But she was still scared out of her wits. Of course there was a crack in this facade when Parum entered the tent and saw Cyanwrath himself. "Oh... Big guy." She tried to play off her surprise as a mere curiosity, but the fact Cyanwrath was here made Parum lose hope. At least if it was just Morndath she could potentially lie long enough to make a plan for everyone to break Brannor and Leosin out of here. But with Cyanwrath, those chances were going down the drain very quickly.

Morndath started off politely enough, though stern as expected for a cult leader. But Parum didn't need to look to know that when she heard some footsteps behind her, it was her cronies making sure that none of them tried to do anything funny. Even with Cyanwrath's presence here, the extra guards pretty much ensured that no one in the group could get away easily. At least Morndath asked Parum directly, allower the halfling to work her magic.

"Well, color me surprised. Honestly I figured an outfit this large wouldn't notice a few sellswords swinging blades for them. You guys are more organized then most bandit crews I've been in. Anyways, my name is Parum, and I was looking to join this army of yours." Parum didn't want to deviate from the idea that Parum was on their side. If she acts negotiable, maybe selfish even, Morndath may write her off as simply a greedy soul looking to make easy money. The types they ran across in the forest certainly seemed to fit that bill. "I suppose you'll be wanting to know some other basic things too. How we found you, how we captured that champ, who the rest of my men are. I'll give that to you for free: We saw the fire and the dragon and figured something interesting was afoot. We saw the fight between your champion and Greenest's, and after that it was just a matter of following your army." Not entirely a lie, though of course Parum left out the details. Parum started explaining how they "captured" Brannor as well. "The guy we captured got into a fight with some of your soldiers it seemed, they had kobolds with them so I assumed they were with your army. We let him fight himself out against your men, and before he could finish them off I had the orc and the old man take him out. We questioned your soldier, who seemed to desert by the way might want to look into that, and figured out where your camp was." This was entirely a lie, but Parum made sure to speak with confidence and not a single moment to stutter. Sure, Morndath could believe that Parum had been rehersing this speech, except that Parum made it up on the spot.

"Seeing that you just lost a few soldiers to the prisoner we captured, I figured that me and my crew here could just replace the dead ones, and hopefully get a reward for the champ while we're at it."

"The difference would be that we are not just any ragtag group of bandits after money. We do not 'split the loot' as seems to be the common practice among your people. We pay for a job well done. One does not march in here like they owned the place", Morndath educated Parum on the subject of how joining her outfit functioned. "As for whether you will make it in, capturing the champion of Greenest, be it outside of his more powerful form, does speak for itself. Yet...", she turned to face Orchid now, "I am unsure if I trust the entirety of your ragtag group."

She stepped a bit to the side as Cyanwrath raised his hand in the air and took two approaching steps at Orchid, his nostrils twitching a bit. One could almost see the clockwork churning in his head, as if he thought he recognised the half-orc from somewhere, but in the end he closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. Nothing. Carry on", he would grumble and step back, Morndath giving him an annoyed look.

"So you are the trusted warrior of this band, I take it. Why do you seek to fight for the mighty Cult of the Dragon?" she asked with her hands spread out, her face displaying a hint of curiosity though it remained quite neutral. "And just how did you overpower a man quite like the champion?" Now there was even a hint of a smile on her face.

@Lucius Cypher - She is talking to you
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Irredeemable

Orchid looked at everyone in the tent with a glare. Even he could see how bad a situation like this was. Completely surrounded by enemies, with Cyanwrath just a few feet in front of him. If he could get a solid hit on him from Brannor's greatsword, he was almost certain he could drop the hulking brute in one slash. However Orchid was aware that he would be cut down before he could even reach his blade. Wasn't long before Parum started talking, and she started talking a lot. The half-orc looked at the halfing and was honestly wondering if they were suppose to be lying or not, because she said a lot of things that went completely over his head. He just kept looking stern and as threatening as possible, as to send a nonverbal message that he did not fear these people.

Soon it was Orchid's turn to be questioned. When Morndath questioned his motives he spoke simply. "Power." Which was the truth. The only reason he left home was to grow stronger outside the comforts of the village. He joined the caravan hoping to find danger to hone his skills on. And he found it in the form of Greenest under siege. He had nothing more to say then that, but when Morndath asked him how he overpowered Brannor he was also curt and gruff. "I sneak. Then I attack." Orchid intentionally left his words vague and nondescript, if only because they were the first thing that came to mind as well as basically what did happen at the forest. Orchid snuck up on the cultist, and then he attacked them.

@Hekazu

The bridge of Morndath's nose wrinkled, but on the other hand she did not seem to begin demanding a better explanation from Orchid. It seemed as if she was disapproving of the unwillingness to talk the barbarian exhibited, but then again he was just that. A barbarian. "Power. Power one can most definitely have. It comes with devotion and practice, though we can only offer the other. It is up to you to live to fulfil the remaining one", she stated regarding Orchid's motivations to join the cult. She took a deep breath as she prepared to move on to the next subject which was how they had captured Brannor.

"And we marched in to Greenest and retrieved trinkets for the hoard, praise Tiamat's glory. You do realise that you might have just as well not answered my question? But perhaps your friend, or even mount if I am to believe my underling, would be willing to speak more of it, hmm?" she turned towards Torus, an already sceptical look in her eyes. "Torag, was it? So, tell me what your friend refuses. How did you manage to take down the champion of Greenest?"

@Gordian Nought - She is talking to you
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Irredeemable