With Judgment periodically circling above, scavenging for and distracting patrol, the beggar of a mouse, soon swelled in sickness, giving rise to a lineage of incestuous flesh and frail bones, quickly molding into the husk, Xaron had grown both weary and fond of. The peripatetic wanderings for the monk had finally evolved in its spongiform fruition, congenitally unearthed and cornered by the now fully bearded man, clothed by Minotaur hide, leaning heavy on a dragon fang as a staff.

Bound akin to a brazen serpent to a pole, fettered only by rope, Torus whispered to Leosin.

“The stint to sunder this wound has come…”

A quiet interruption soon befell the ears of the pirate.

“And force me to abandon my task?”

The druid, accustomed to the Sisyphean oblivion, irreverently birthed an academic inquiry, assuming that the man before them, would require an emergent liberation. Brannor already had departed alongside the green blood, weapons in hand, back to salvage what was lost amongst the horde, the victims of the promised rise of Tiamat. Her phenomenal mind thrived on harnessing and manipulating a striated cerebrum’s full potential.

To contract and to spark.

She was tempted to seep and possess a younger corpus, but felt the will before her would not be as quiescent as the sailor from Chult.

@Hekazu

"What."

Parum wasn't sure what she was hearing. Oh she heard it alright, but she was trying to interpret it. Here Leosin was, crucified to this post, and Parum and her friends were just moments away from saving him. And he... Doesn't want to leave. "Okay calm down. Obviously Leosin has been thinking a lot since he got captured. Maybe.... Maybe he meant to be captured. The cultist takes slaves after all, so there's a reasonable chance that he tried to get captured to infiltrate this place like we did with Brannor. But if that's the case, then obviously his cover has been blown, almost like ours. In fact I'm sure our cover has already been blown and if we don't act soon, the whole camp is going to jump down our throats." Parum took a deep breath and quietly started to undo the bindings keeping Leosin in place. She tried to only cut enough to set him loose but not cleave through the rope, since they still needed to hang up the body double.

"Look, Leosin. I can tell that you've really thought this out. But so have we. We're here to rescue you. Your followers have asked us to find you and bring you back alive. Greenest is in near ruins. If there's anything you can do to help us, anything you can tell us, it'll have to be away from this camp. Are you strong enough to run?" Once Parum had Leosin loosen she motioned for Orchid to quickly string up Davis. She also created a minor illusion around the area to create an image of darkness, shadow, ideally whenever the moon was covered by clouds, to make it harder to see them from a distance. It wasn't a her best illusion but hopefully it'll be good enough.

Orchid said nothing as Leosin and Parum chatted. He wasn't sure what they were talking about so he was just going to make sure that Leosin looked disguised as he strung up the acolyte to the post. He was good at tying knots so even if the rope was cut a bit, he'll make sure this guy doesn't get out so easily if he wakes up. "Too much talky. We go." Getting Leosin out of the camp might be a bit difficult though. Orchid knew at the very least, they would have sentries posted around the edge of camp to watch for any suspicious activity. Such as a large group of people just wandering off into the forest. The current disguise might be good enough to get Leosin out from the post, but if anyone looked too closely they might recognize him. Orchid wondered if they'd notice if Leosin had mud on his face or something. "Need better disguise. Make elf look different? Human? Hairy?" Orchid looked around to see if Brannor had managed to free the slaves or not. Surely once they start running that would cause a good enough distraction for them to flee into the night.

Despite his disapproval of the imminent rescue, Leosin did not make the process of him being cut free any more difficult by struggling against the bonds. In fact, he did not put up any resistance beyond words. "I still have so much to learn... so close to a breakthrough... just a little bit more..." he implored, but the requests fell to deaf ears. The heroes of Greenest were set on taking the reluctant monk out of here, whether he himself approved of it or not. And with just how many bruises dotted the man's body and how malnourished his appearance was, it was probably for the better too.

The cloak liberated from acolyte Davis found itself on the monk's shoulders while its former owner was rigged against the pole in place of the withered monk. With unsteady step, Leosin hobbled away in the company of his saviours, now simply refusing to speak of his time here or what he had planned originally, only telling the people that the time for that would come. Were he to walk on his own, he would routinely fall a few more paces behind every other moment, but still keep on moving. A helping hand would allow the man to keep up, but indeed cost the provider some of their mobility in turn.

For now, no alarms had been raised, not as far as anyone could tell. This included Brannor who had headed back, only to find Krets no longer where he had stood not too long ago. Only a faint whiff of the tangy yet sweet aroma he surrounded himself with remained, but the presence of the remaining guard was still very much reality. It would be up to him to make the decision as to whether he would risk it. The others would not be far behind, if he had to fathom a guess. Everyone knew they would have to act quick, now that they had performed the exchange.


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

After the group separated Kyra did as told and maintained watch over the groups. She could hide easily even with nothing but shadows masking her body. She made sure to patrol between the group rescuing and Brannor, feeling that he in particular may need assistance since he is alone. Kyra watched the slave tent from a distance and spotted the two sentries guarding it. Before she would act she thought about how she could possibly deal with the guards in such a way that won't cause an uproar. She had a fresh assortment of spells, one which was Command. With nothing but a simple verbal component she could order a guard to leave, leaving only one to deal with. But if the guard was canny, he may suspect something. Alternatively, she could try to simple shoot them down with a Guiding Bolt, and have Brannor eliminate another guard just as swiftly. If their attacks struck true they would die before they could make a noise. But the act of assassinating the two guards would be noisy itself, and no doubt the camp was on edge for the newcomers.

Kyra remained hidden, her bow in hand and an arrow ready to be launched. She was so desperately to kill someone. She would be a bit disappointed if she couldn't spill blood in this place so full of heretics. "Calm down Kyra... That's not what you're here for." Another idea she had was to send a flaming arrow into a tent or some supplies, cause a disturbance that way. She had her tinderbox and could easily wrap her arrow in some foliage to create a weak flaming arrow to light something on fire. Indeed Kyra went ahead and prep such an arrow but didn't light it immediately. She remained hidden for now and watched what the others did until she needed to intervene. "A hunter needs to be patient. And strike when it's most certain."

The time spent laboring away in the camp by the towering man was not wasted, on the contrary now as he found himself free of his bonds and able to bear his weapons again so covertly amid the camp. Slinking from tent to tent, awaiting patrols and wanderers to dawdle by, the man soon returned to the slave tent, the same which had been his temporary home not even a half an hour earlier. What had changed in his absence however, was that the pungent, equally sweet and foul smell of the smoke that had tipped him off to a threat only now hung ever so slightly in the air; the man to blame having vanished and in his place, two regulars. Whoever they were was irrelevant, but they posed a threat the warrior of the wilds could not regularly overcome - blood of the moon or not.

It was unquestionably what drove him to his next act, that where he scanned the rest of the camp for opportunity. There was no killing the men both without someone calling out for help, even with a dying breath, assuming all had even gone that well to begin with. What was needed was a distraction, something that even if it did not call them away, afforded the others ample opportunity and time to do whatever it was they needed to with the lost monk. Brannor's eyes, attuned to the darkness, scanned aggressively for one such solution in the form of fire. Fire was a tool of fear and a potent weapon, something that could well incite chaos. Unfortunately, the only source of glimmering flame was far enough away that there would be no happenstance of its lick coming to befall the slave tent.

Instead a stack of them and tinderboxes laid crudely tossed about among other goods, but the other source?

The tiny, scaly, horrible little things had no shortage of them in any haphazard number among their side of the camp. For some reason, one that struck the hunter as odd, the small lizard-men - absolute shadows of their supposed draconic ancestors - were all away on their own in one ramshackle den of tents. It was dirtier, if one could even describe the already pathetic living conditions this "army of the dragon" had, and strewn with torches that were precariously close to too many structures. Though this did come at a price, which was well that the enemy was in great number here, traveling in roving bands.

There was no other option the knight-ranger had, so he gambled his life on it. Slinking in not far from any of the closest cover, at times skulking here and there, Brannor neared one of the roaring flames upon a staff. All too close to a tent was it, that with a firm push it collapsed on to the flammable surface. Not one to watch his work, the threat would soon spread. The next business, rather the attempt to, would be to get the slaves to flee if they would or could. How many, if any, would escape did not bother him or inform his decision in the slightest, not as he crept low to the tall grass.

All he was obligated to do was to try.



@Norschtalen@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@Ryonara@Gordian Nought

Shrieks. Shrieks in the night. That was the first sign of Brannor's plan going right. The kobolds panicked as fire spread to their tent and threatened to leap onward to another as the heat rose. The burning shelter was vacated swiftly, but at first there seemed to be no attempt at actually doing anything to the fire. That was until two kobolds flew to scene from further in the "slums". Yes, flew. This pair sported wings on their backs. And the first thing they did was shriek from the bottom of their lungs to simply call the attention of the other scaled menaces.

The looks they received were... conflicting. However, once they resumed from there by barking out orders in draconic, those on the ground soon found themselves listening to them. As the kobolds scurried in many directions in search of water, a few of the cult sauntered to the scene quite casually. Those nearby might be able to hear what they spoke over the shrieking, but Brannor was already gone by that point. What was important was their apparent disinterest to join in the saving effort. It was as if they had simply come to see the little ones suffer.

To Brannor's luck, the few guards at the tent were more interested in the fire just as well, and though they did not move too far, the shrieking and occasional need to dodge two or three kobolds carrying a heavy bucket of water did distract them enough to allow the woodsman entry.


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

The Nietzschian ropes, once constraints, now would become the vehicle of the monk's liberation as the druid loosely tossed them over each shoulder. Smolder and screams were the first hallmarks of the guised sabretooth’s scheme. The visual pandemonium from a sample bird’s eye view, courtesy of the pirate’s Judgement, curdled the lips of the bard, hoping the Gehenna whirling tumultuously in the slave’s encampment would be enough.

“It is time. Quickly, lads.”

Brown fur erupted between the nooks of Torus’ robes. The minotaur hide brilliantly melting onto a muscular back, bereft of a coveted fleece, only nature could bestow. His dragon fang assimilated into the sternum of the sailor, whilst the raven pirouetted in the laughing clouds. Soon, the twine, laced around each extremity, quickly became taut as both reins and belts snugly secured Leosin atop the ursine beast of burden as the makeshift monstrosity bolted away from the fiery distraction.

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

Dropping upon the points of his elbows and soon shuffling across the dirt and tall grass, the hunter crept along by crawling up to the edge of the tent he had been freed from not long before. The guards had their attention rightfully elsewhere given the hysteria that had erupted over the fire, seeming to almost feed their dark hearts with the sufferings of their own faction. Despite the glow of the aforementioned flames and the apparent success he had in what it was he had done, the man had no interest in dawdling and wasting his opportunity. He crawled across the expanse back again under the rickety tent's outstretched tarp, returning to the prisoners. Not pausing to dust himself off, he rose only to one knee and came to a point of brief rest before them.

Taking a breath, he thought for a moment, eyes searching both the people and the emptiness of the tent. What to be said? What to be done? The most direct one was the one he had time for. There was no opportunity to explain, no safety to do so. The fires, the guards, and the kobolds were not eternal in their activity. The man's golden stare settled and he spoke softly at last, hushed but enough for them to hear the address.

"If you wish to save yourselves, I will set you free," The words carried, addressing them all, though well aware the enfeebled, broken people of them would not escape, could not escape, "But you all must run, following the road back to your home. Do not stop or go alone or they might find you."

One of his leather and steel clad hands reached down to the knife settled upon his belt, drawing it. Brannor then motioned for whoever wished to escape their bindings first, to be set free again upon the world. It would be no easy thing, no small task asked of them. They would need flee like an animal hunted, far and wide from here with nothing but themselves and the others beside them to rely upon. The outlander did not expect these people to survive or even succeed, yet he was going to afford them their chance; it was part of the plan after all and something they much needed.

Once he would free them all, those he could, he would usher them out the way he had left and came again, urging them to then split into small groups and sneak away as fast as they could manage.

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

Orchid saw the flames building up and smirked. "Okay, run now." Hopefully with eyes directed to the sudden fire in the camp, Orchid would lead Leosin through the safe passage that Parum had scouted previously. He booked it double time: no need to be careful now, he could just say that his friend was caught in the fire and he needed to get him to some water outside of the camp. Or rather, Parum could, Orchid would just seem panicky and angry if anyone tried to stop him. "Me Orchid. Leosin, yeah? Nice meet you." The half-orc gave the elf a goofy grin as he goes into the forests.

"I'm sure you do sir. And I'm also sure that you barely have two days, tops, before they bury you in a shallow grave. I don't think they put people up on those poles if they intend to let them live soon after." Parum whispered as they moved through the camp. She used a minor illusion to disguise Leosin a little, dying his hair a different shade than his normal one so that people won't readily be able to identify him by glance. Everything was going good so far but Parum couldn't help but feel like this was too easy. Like they were just waiting for Parum and the others to be outside of the camp so they can strike when they least expect it. "Be vigilante Parum. You aren't out of the fire yet."

Speaking of fire, one of the kobold's tent was lit aflame. Parum's heart raced knowing that this flame was a signal that they needed to go now. With any luck the camp would mobilize to halt the fire before it spreads out, or at worse the higher ups may notice something amiss and investigate them. Parum wanted to be miles away before that happened though. "Alright, lets get out of here. Leosin is with us and we have a distraction, that should give us plenty of time and breathing space. Go go!" Parum said in hushed tones to her party members present, leading the group towards the woods.

"Almost home free!"

@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen@The Harbinger of Ferocity

Brannor had nearly freed all the slaves when two hurried pairs of steps rushed towards the slave tent. The front flaps flew open, and though the man could not see the man who had done so he was familiar enough with the voice that declared "I knew it!" that he knew their time to be short. It was investigator Krets. And the other voice that answered him, that he knew better. A voice that boomed with the force of its owner's ancestry. A voice belonging to a certain half-dragon.

"Yes indeed, investigator. We should have taken action sooner, in that you are right", Cyanwrath conceded before raising his voice to a shout: "TO ARMS! NOBODY LEAVES THE CAMP! THE SLAVES ARE RUNNING, AS IS THE CHAMPION I FOUGHT ONLY A NIGHT AGO!"

It took no more. Where the interest had previously been in the fire raging in the kobold slums, one of the wearers of purple grabbed all that attention without difficulty, the humanoid cult members and hirelings now starting to gather towards the exit. The clock was ticking. They would either make it or break it within the next two minutes. Thankfully, they were already close to being out by this point. Only four people stood in their way, spotting those that attempted the skulk through the shadows. "Halt! Who goes there?" their apparent leader, dressed in very similar manner to the dragonclaw by the name of Stern earlier.

Getting through might be possible without a fight, just slipping through the guards, but that would both prove extremely difficult for the one helping the monk and more or less doom the slaves. Or they could fight their way through, banking on the fact that they would have the time to do so before reinforcements arrive. Or perhaps they would choose to do something completely different? Time was of the essence, decisions needed to be made.


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

As Orchid was carrying Leosin out of the camp, everything went to shit quickly. People were running about and everyone was shouting. This could be a good or a bad thing; either the camp was trying to put out the fire quickly or they just got discovered. And it wasn't long before some guards came to stop them. Orchid bared his fangs. He didn't draw his weapon yet knowing that the others may want to do talking, but he didn't do talking. But he could do scary. "Move out of our way! We have no time to deal with you peons!" Orchid growled as he approached the group. He didn't have any weapons out but he was getting ready for a brawl if it came down to it. He made himself look bigger, angrier, than the rest of the group, in order to give himself a more terrifying appearance.

Kyra wasn't surprised that a high alert went off as soon as the kobolds's camp went on fire. As much as they tried, she knew they were spotted the moment they were called into the camp itself. Not that Kyra minded; this just meant that they didn't need to continue this pointless charade anymore. She joined back with the group as they were trying to move out of the camp but were stopped by a group of sentries. As Orchid went to confront them, Kyra sneaked around. She would try to get inside of the tent to see what was inside that she could use as a distraction, or failing that, simply as cover so she could better hide and shoot down the ones who where trying to stop them. Kyra could easily identify the one who lead this rabble, and taking him out ought to ensure that the rest would lose morale. And while the party would have to kill them regardless, at least by taking out the leader of this pack, they were in slightly less danger.

"Make your move. Once I'm in position they will begin dying. Kyra thought to herself.

The people in the way of the heroes of Greenest did not appear ready to relent. Despite Orchid's attempts, the best his boastful approach earned was the one cult member slightly behind the Dragonclaw glancing at the man standing tall, before finishing drawing his sabre with the rest of them. The path forward was blocked, no two ways about it. And as the cries of "To arms!" and "Close the way out!" among many of similar nature reminded them, any moment they spent not progressing was a moment the cult could rally its members. And if the whole of the camp were to collapse on them, it would spell a death sentence even to the most stalwart of warriors among them.

The beast of a man snarled as he had come too far in this endeavor to let mere scale-worshiping underlings stand in his way or the way of his unlikely allies. It was after this thought found itself seized, this need to act, that his hand freed the greatsword from its scabbard; the brutal, serrated teeth of its more ornate upper half clicking and clinking hungrily against the metal. With the other hand free, he spread his palm wide and soon laid it upon the necklace that hung around his neck, which began to shift from side to side faster as his pace built from hustle to run. A metallic taste filling his mouth, the unnatural animal hunger within him beckoning and leading the charge.

A pale, moonlit corona soon followed with him, shrouding the man in defensive abjuration as his primal faith grew stronger into a physical force. All of it was born of the thrill of the hunt, the impending kill which compelled him, and spurred him to swing with terrible force. The halfling woman, realizing it or not, had inspired a portion of this wrath and helped add conviction to the sword's blow that fell upon the man barking orders. This culmination resulted in what was perhaps one of the most terrible swings of the weapon the outlander had ever given and surely it would rend flesh and armor alike upon the elven runeblade. Though as he pivoted, turning to carry through with the momentum, a trail of glinting, dull green spirit fire followed; a sanctified strike, magic through the body into the sword itself, one that made it no mere mundane attack any more.

Brannor hadn't the faintest of just how deadly a blow he had well struck through otherworldly power, instead, in sheath of moonlight armor and chainmail, he wheeled to face the next closest foe with cloak turning to follow. Not that he could think of it either in this moment of adrenaline and battle, but if the first man was not dead outright, the cultist would be so reeling that they might opt to get well out of the danger that was proximity to the Champion of Greenest. However, there was not a fiber of mercy in the man at this point. The burning argent fire of the Pale Lady told him to kill the enemies of the light and now? Now was his chance.


@Hekazu@Gordian Nought@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

The commander hadn't had the chance to do anything beyond shouting the command to the approaching group of unidentified skulkers before the man that had been in the front rushed past his boastful companion, his massive blade cutting through the air and the cultist's attire, flesh and bone alike. The ethereal energies that joined in the doing of harm seemed perhaps late, given the man was already well on his way to slump down on the ground before the green hue flashed in his open eyes.

Emboldened by the swift victory, the knight of the wilds moved ever onward, stepping over the corpse to stand face to face with yet another opponent. His approach was just what the hooded individual had been waiting for however, and the scrawnier man attempted to impede the movement of the greatsword wielding Paladin. However, the attempt was left half-finished as he found himself needing to avoid a particularly powerful push from the flat side of the weapon while the knight was still realigning it for another strike. The cultist gulped, but stood his ground, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath.

Prayers? Curses? A list of debts they would now expect to go unpaid? It was tough, if not impossible to tell.

When the party was stopped by the check point Parum gulped and for a moment her resolve wavered. This was not going according to plan at all! She bemoaned that nothing she did works out as well as she hopes in the end. But she couldn’t do anything about it now. There will be time to complain later; for now it was time to fight.

Brannor had already charged into the fray and joined the melee. So Parum targeted one of the cultist next to him, sending a chilling whisper of fear and torment into the cultists mind. ”Run, sheep. Run from the slaughter.” She would say as she casted Dissonant Whispers onto him.

The bear gleaned from the golden eyed hunter's monstrous swing that this anticipated skirmish would be the first of many to secure their promised exodus from this riddled encampment. With the monk strapped to its furry back, the ursine mass sprawled amidst the triumvirate configurations of tents, hoping to cause a distraction from the cultists, who would see their beloved captive freed and tethered to the wild druid. The efforts to divide then conquer the fanatic worshipers of Tiamat would force flanking opportunities if the zealots gave chase. With eyes wide closed, the brown beast stood on its heels and appreciated the distance of warfare, with only so much tactical commitment a raven could spare, opting to survey the surroundings through the sight of a flying Judgement to better collect the lay of the land, noting any and all exits with hindrances of potential reinforcements.



@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher

"Tch..." Orchid was feeling a little bit silly having tried to talk things through and letting Brannor get the first kill. And against the big boss too! Oh well. If Brannor was fighting and Parum was fighting, then Orchid would fight as well. He draws his machete and snarls as he charges towards the cultist near the cliff, taking his blade in both hands as he takes a wide, reckless swing to cleave the cultist's head clean from his shoulders. "DIE ALREADY!"