---

The journey back had been relatively uneventful. He was thankful but expected nothing less than that of a wood ranger that had quite a stack handful of experience doing observatory work. Naturally, if the bandits weren't keen on spotting and giving chase or making any sort of movement in response to his presence, that would probably mean that they weren't exactly a clever bunch either. It made him rather confident that they probably wouldn't respond that well to a quick sweep either, something in which to make note of for the Steel Princess to decide.

Especially considering his scouting partner who wasn't too keen on making his presence a leaf in the forest. Irian looked up to see a majestic griffin cutting through the sky, a rider on its back to share its regalia. Despite the potential risk, it was still a good scouting method, and quite a sight to beholden to, even though the wood elf had had enough time around his fellow Lions to get used to it. The legends and myths surrounding these apex predators befitted its rumored heightened pride. It was good to see, but it didn't take long before it got out of sight of him.

Sometimes, Irian imagined how it would be like soaring through the air like that.

The elf took a bit of time catching back up to the camp, noticing Roger and his griffin, along with Valmyra, if he remembered correctly, the lamia warrior. He wasn't sure if the other scouts were back yet, but they seemed to be talking amongst themselves for now. Irian figured there would be a bit of time for some menial. Refilling food, water, etc. The usual boredom.

As he refilled the leather flask and took a sip, he noticed someone being a little bit...strange, let's put it so. Not to him, but towards the griffin that Roger had. Understood where its due, it was a fascinating creature, but the high elf looked immersed in another world altogether seeing that, with her swiping through her notebook. Irian might be well-versed in the art of spying on someone, it ain't good sport to be doing that to your allies.

The wood elf swung the bow from his back and raised it in the direction of Melanie. His other hand reached for an arrow, taking his time measuring and placing the arrow on the bow string before drawing and loosening the arrow. But the high elf need not worry. The arrow struck on the nearby tent's wooden support peg, and was never in danger of hitting her, to Irian at least.

Whether or not it was intentional to Melanie, Irian lowered the bow gradually and then rather casually walking up to her. "My apologies. I thought you were some spy for a second there." He said with a rather neutral but faintly amused tone. "Bad habit of mine." Eyes perked, he looked over in the same direction as her a few seconds ago towards the other two. "You seem immersed there. Would you like to be introduced?"
@PigeonOfAstora

As they returned to the base camp, Roger spotted something at the top of an approaching tree. It took him a moment to realize that it was Valmyra, a Lamia member of the Lions. It made sense that her serpentine lower body made her a good climber.

As they passed her, she shouted a question, asking what those strange shapes in the disturbed ground were. The griffin rider couldn't blame her for wanting to know- after all, he had been curious about them, too. Unfortunately, she'd have to wait a few seconds for an answer while Shortclaw was making his landing.

Once his mount was firmly on the ground, Roger took off his helmet and turned the snake woman.

"They look like effigies or totems made of skulls and bones," he answered her question. "I have no idea what they mean, though. Maybe the others will know."

She was a curious sort. Her chimerical half-human-half snake body reminded him a little of the half-avian, half-leonine bodies of griffins. Roger knew little of her, other than that she was formerly with the patrol corps and that her primary weapon was a fine-looking spear. As a user of spears himself, Roger wondered if the lamia be willing to share weapon techniques some time.

Roger dismounted the griffin and began to walk back to the main camp where the Steel Princess would be found. Shortclaw followed closely behind, holding its head low. Roger knew that this behavior wasn't a sign of submission or subservience- griffins were, after all, very proud creatures. On the contrary, this was a sign that the beast wanted its partner to preen his head feathers.

"Later," he softly spoke to Shortclaw. Even if Velvetica planned to not give them any rest, he could always do it while they were on the move.

@AzureKnight

Velvetica's tent was the largest in the camp, the same crimson trimmed with red that adorned the Lion's Banner. It was from here that she planned strategy, consulted with her advisors, and conducted official business.

It was also quite comfortable, but that was secondary.

Within, a large mat had been placed over the short, spikey grass, and atop it sat a table. Beyond that was where Velvetica slept, and kept most of her supplies, current concealed behind a draping set of curtains.

It was rumored that anyone who set foot inside Velvetica's personal quarters without permission would be subjected to a prompt and intense punishment. Velvetica herself saw no need to say anything else on the matter.

The map spread over the table was of the local area, the rocky plains of the borderlands, and she was examining it closely at the moment, icy blue eyes scanning each of the known mounds and rocky outcrops claimed(and sometimes proven) to house ancient tombs.

Certainly, a group of bandits could select such a place to use its reputation to conceal themselves.

However...

The tent opened before Velvetica could continue her train of though. The figure that entered was one of her personal retinue, a pretty woman several years her senior with her dark hair tied in a tight bun, wearing light clothing signifying her position as a noncombatant.

"Lady Hraesleg," she began, with a bow, "Your scouts have returned."

The blonde nodded, rising to her feet.

"Excellent, I'll meet them now."

Within a few moments, Velvetica had exited her tent. The first of her scouts to arrive was no surprise, given his speedy form of transportation.

"Sir Roger," she addressed the knight first, before her gaze shifted to the griffin, "Shortclaw."

Addressing the griffin as well was simply part of dealing with such creatures. Only an idiot would be unaware of the pride that a griffin felt in itself. To Velvetica, it was not dissimilar to the Hraesleg's pride, albeit that of a beast rather then a human's. Therefore, it was important to pay them mind when possible.

"As you have returned, I trust you and the other scouts have information for me?"

It was time to see if her suspicions could be confirmed.

@Raineh Daze@Rin@AzureKnight@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@VKAllen@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@PigeonOfAstora

The Hundi shrugged, "She's a demon, her nature isn't going to change so easily. If it did, I expect that our contract would be terminated in short order as she aligned herself to newer goals. But the odds of that happening in the next thousand years is vanishingly low."

Although, whether she would still be around a thousand years hence to take advantage of such a thing? That was hard to say. It was quite possible, but at the same time, her specialities could always lead to even more serious trouble if the sentiment against mages turned even more dire for whatever reason. Like a resurgence of the Witch-Queen, as vanishingly unlikely as she was to return from being dead. Rumour had it that the majority of her pupils had escaped unscathed, and were more than capable of causing havoc if the mood so took them.

"Hmm, I don't think you'd like to see any of my friends coming in unannounced. They're not all so friendly as I, and might be quite upset if the food didn't come with a good brawl," the demon laughed, rubbing her chin. And then she bent down to pat the nem's head... which would probably have been more humiliating if not for the gulf in size that meant she could do that to just about anybody here, "But you've got spirit."

Lirrah's cheeks reddened slightly as the knight loudly exclaimed his love for her pie. Of course, Lirrah knew it was the best. She had made it. However, the sheer robust earnestness with which the man conducted himself was almost an embarrassment. She had heard, around camp, of one who went by the epithet 'The Sincere'. She didn't have near enough knowledge to say for certain, but if the title was not ironic, she could guess that it applied to this man.

But he was definitely hiding something.

Lirrah knew that the more outwardly honest someone seemed, the more likely they were to have a skeleton in their closet or two. Or maybe it was a manipulation tactic? Well, it didn't matter for now. Lirrah could not be confounded so easily, anyways, and it probably had nothing to do with her besides. Whether he accidentally shoplifted once or routinely killed people in his basement, he liked her cooking and his money was good. Lirrah put a bright, cutesy expression on her face.

"Thank you so much, mister knight! I'm so glad you like it! Please come pack to the Matayannah Trading Company at pase camp for home cooking at its finest! I love having customers as enthusiastic as you!"

Lirrah noted, during her exchange, that Velvetica was meeting with some of the people who had been sent to scout. An announcement would likely be made soon, so it was probably time to start packing up her goods. She smiled sweetly as the Demon woman, with a strange joviality, explained how dire it would be if her friends were to show up for food. Lirrah swallowed.

And the woman patted her head.

Lirrah figured that many Nem would be borderline offended by the gesture, as infantilizing as it was. Then again, many Nem did not purposely put on a cute act to sell more. In truth, Lirrah had been patted so many times that she had considered selling them if she could word it in a way that didn't make her seem scummy. It was a part of building rapport, it was a tool in her kit, and she really didn't mind being fawned over. Adorability was a weapon, in its own way, and it was likely the reason she was here at all.

Lirrah wondered, briefly, what the Demon woman would think of her ambitions. The lengths she would go to stand at the top of the-

Ila-Nem, it was like being trapped under the massive paw of some great beast, and she was but a mouse. Lirrah's cheeks reddened a bit more, and she shivered.

"W-well, thank you so much for saying so~" Lirrah tweeted, turning her cute up a few notches, "I have spirit in apundance! I think you and I are speaking of different friends, though. I more meant comrades in the immediate area. Perhaps your Hundi friend, if the occasion takes her!"

Lirrah beamed up at the woman, punctuating her request with the world's most honey-soaked giggle.

MELANIE

---

Location: Hraesleg Base Camp
Interactions: @Conscripts

---

"...yes, of course. It makes perfect sense that the plumes are not as well developed were it to not face the harsh updrafts of the mountain..." Melanie mumbled, face buried in the notebook and quill again in hand, fiercely inscribing all that she had gathered of Shortclaw. A shame she didn't have the opportunity, but what little she did see inflamed her curiosity well enough on its own. A griffin! Of all beasts! And a magnificent specimen too, anyone would be taken by its grandeur.

Melanie seemed completely unaware that an arrow landed next to her, continuing to mumble fragments of sentences that sprung in its nascence out of her mouth. Stray pages freed themselves from Melanie's notebook and dejectedly floated to the ground, folding itself and its rejected contents into nothing. "...but the veracity of the dwarven records of the early sightings of the griffin has long since been tested by - GAH!"

Melanie looked up, momentarily confused and slightly annoyed at whatever thing derailed her note taking, before she acknowledged that it was another elf talking to her. Hraesleg Lions armor? Heavens alive, Melanie had let herself go again. What should someone think of her profession should they find such a disheveled looking maniac? Posthaste, she flicked out a brush and vigorously brushed out the dust from her hair to its natural flow, flattened out her robes and smiled at Irian in a precise and practiced manner, forgoing any acknowledgement of context. "My name is Melanie Theria Layaneth, naturalist and archivist of all curios, pleased to meet you!"

There was a pause as Melanie fumbled her way back to try and recall what she missed. Why was he talking to her? This wasn't the forums, she wasn't going to get thrown out for pestering passerbys with questions. Something about...something about spying? Objectionable choice of words, but quite accurate. "Yes, I am indeed gathering information about the Hraesleg Lions!" Melanie said cheerily. "There are quite a lot of rumors surrounding this detachment, and I simply had to see for myself. And deep apologies, but I didn't happen to catch your name?"

@The Otter@Eisenhorn@Psyker Landshark

"We're taught to remember where we came from."

All told, there were little questions to be had as to just how the mercenary had come about to be plying his chosen trade beneath the banners of the Lions. The sharpness in his eyes told the tale his meager origin and nonexistent status belied, for what they lacked in the Goddess-given spark of noble bearing they made up for in shrewd observation. A battlefield veteran would need no less to survive well, and without any guarantee of underlings delegable for menial tasks like "finding people" and "remembering who went where", they were necessarily primed to assist him in picking up the slack these situations left on the individual. Where he lacked in formal sculpting, necessity had moulded him.

Something close to a smirk flickered across his face as they walked, the brew-clutching behemoth a pair of strides behind the golden-eyed hireling. Imagine Cadmon, having to run his own errands in such a way.

The North would have been eaten alive by Estival in weeks.

"And it seems such friendly fortune has graced you as well," came the booming rejoinder as the pair located his charge after a respectably short while, the young heir's slouch concealing his height and frame in a fashion to the older man would, one day, finally kick the hell out of him long enough to not be so recognizable. "Yet still you refuse to cast aside such a dull expression, despite your lovely company. Anger her at your own peril, boy, an Crownsblade scorned is a shameful loss for us all."

Despite his admonishing words, he spared the both of them any show of tutting or theatrics— Cadmon wouldn't buy it for a moment, and Lambert wouldn't find the humor. Instead, he simply strode forth, nodding his thanks to Urden as the task he'd set upon the man was now complete.

"Here." The mug in his right hand, slightly fuller than its twin, was thrust forth for the young Earl to accept. "Drink. The drums of war are closing upon us. You'll need to be sharp."

One of the first things that Roger always noticed about Velvetica was her stature. It contrasted heavily with the voluminous tend that she resided, and even moreso next to the soldiers in her command. Roger himself wasn't particularly large compared to many of the other Lions, yet he still towered over his commander.

Only a fool would underestimate her, though. She was a hard, uncompromising woman, a skilled fighter with a dangerous enchanted sword, and a decisive leader willing take risks. Roger was one of those risks, in fact. An unproven knight from a family of griffin tamers, and she gave him a chance. He wasn't the only one either- Roger reckoned that many of the Lions, diverse as they were, had similar stories.

"We spotted large tracts of disturbed land near our enemy's location. It looks like they have been digging all over," he reported. "We spotted some strange objects dotting the ground, and landed to investigate further. They were effigies of some sort, made out of bones and skulls."

I should have cut it down and brought it back, Roger thought, worried that he might not be able to give an adequate description of those strange objects. Fortunately, he was not the only scout that had been sent out. The elf Irian, in particular, would probably be able to give a more concise and detailed description of whatever those things were.

@VitaVitaAR

@HereComesTheSnow@The Otter@Psyker Landshark

"Someone raised you right then, certainly tried to anyways."

Urden was not one to waste time once on the path, however, and within a decently short span it seems that the subject of their search, the Lad himself, was calling out to Istvan. The comment in regards to having made a new friend got a snort out of the mercenary. Sure, happening upon the task of tracking this gloomy individual down certainly was quite the bonding experience, and he snuck in an off hand remark as he sidestepped to let Shilage take over being the one leading. Suited him anyways, most nobles weren't too keen on rubbing shoulders with those who traded their services in spilling blood for Librans, not that such a thought would keep his mouth in check.

"I blame the charming disposition and ability to hold a tune, who could turn away such a picture of friendliness and social graces?"

Normally, the nod would signal Urden's part to have been done with, and he'd have been on his way if it wasn't for the mention of a title most peculiar. Crownsblade, something he'd heard whispered in seedy dives and taverns frequented by those who just might have something to have feared from someone who bore such a title. He wasn't one to stake anything on rumors and hearsay alone, but if even a fraction of the fearful whispers were true, his life had just gotten a bit more interesting. His gaze shifted from the two men to the woman, the faint smile from his jesting resting on his face like a mask. He wasn't sizing her up, no point there if she really was a Crownsblade, given the rumors, rather contemplating if the dots connected, and what that meant for him. Nothing good, being aware of an assassin was bad for business, and he didn't fancy having to sleep with one eye even wider open than usual. That meant not simply scurrying off to go back to singing and waiting for an evening of violence, and testing the waters to see how this played out.

"And here I thought my good deed would go unrewarded. Urden Antiac, a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

Goddesses help her, Kayliss barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the boy doing the polite equivalent of histrionics over her mention of Shilage. Really, it hadn't even been intended as an insult on her part. "Brute" was just about the only way to describe such a person. If Demet chose to interpret that as negative, well, that was his perogative to be so easily riled. And speaking of...

"..." Kayliss briefly narrowed her eyes in displeasure at Istvan's casual mention of her actual role. For a moment, she was sorely tempted to kill the man the next time he slept for such an egregious breach in information. Suddenly, it was starting to become more evident how half the camp knew she was an assassin in the first place. Really, Kayliss had thought better of the man until now. She wasn't exactly surprised he knew in the first place, given that Cadmon almost certainly knew of the Crownsblades thanks to his rank. Combine that with her general demeanour not exactly matching a killer for coin, she couldn't quite fault anyone for the noble of the bunch knowing, at least. And given that Istvan had access to the same information Cadmon did, it wasn't hard to understand how he knew.

"Sir Shilage, if you'd care to keep a more guarded tongue about certain classified information when out in public? It would make all of our lives easier should some things not leak out to the camp and beyond. You never know where gossip tends to spread." Kayliss asked Istvan pointedly before meeting the gaze of the fighter who was staring at her now. Wonderful. From the way he was looking at her, it was almost a certainty that this Urden fellow knew what her organization had been as well.

"Kayliss Lambert." She inclined her head towards Urden, her ponytail bobbing behind her. "The same goes to you as well, of course."

@The Otter @HereComesTheSnow @Eisenhorn

---

@Psyker Landshark@HereComesTheSnow@Eisenhorn

---

Of course, there was no way he could be seen walking around with nearly anybody without István having some sort of comment to make on it. Before he had the chance to make much reply, though, a mug of hot coffee was thrust into his hands. He accepted it wordlessly, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip, as Kayliss glared at the larger man. The mercenary, for his part, quickly introduced himself, jabbing back at István for him.

"Don't let her sharp tongue deceive you, she is lovely company," he interjected before either of the others had a chance to respond. "Intelligent, composed, and not so fragile as to take my flat affect for an insult." He took another sip of the bitter liquid in his cup. "I don't think I'm the one who needs to worry about peril, for now."

Hopefully none of them would; they had more important things to do than trade jabs and threats with each other, after all. "Now. I was planning for the three of us—now four—to be there when Lady Velvetica debriefed her scouts, and I'm fairly certain I saw plumage weaving between the tents. Let's hurry along."

---

Irian raised his eyebrows quite a bit seeing that she seemed to completely ignore the arrow shot, her head continued to submerge in text until he actually talked to her, which was quite impressive and more amusing than anything. Even more so when in the middle of this, she just took out a brush to streamline her hair before him. The elf contemporary from the woods leaned his head slightly, crossing his arms and waiting for Melanie to finish.

"Melanie." He nodded in return as she introduced herself. She's an archivist. No wonder. And that name sounds familiar "You're the one who beat up your fellow debater for a dress color, right?" Said Irian, his eyebrows raised, the straightforward inquiry turned to a small smirk. "I know, because...let's just say acquaintance of mine was there."

Wood Elf academics weren't exactly known for studying in foreign lands, but visitors to his elf settlement were still a good source of information. Part of the reason why the elves were quite the gracious hosts. This guy was kind of an ass though, so if anything, it was more of a funny story for campfires and idle chatters. No one really cares about Reon's clothes anyway. Respect though, elves to elves, for standing by her work to that degree. "Well, glad to meet such an interesting person like you as well." He replied with a firm smile, his hand on his chest as he bowed slightly. A practised response, but with some degree of genuine sincerity and hospitality.

"I'm Irian Sinewell." Irian said. "Forest Watcher...well not anymore as long as I am here with our band of brothers and sisters." He looked back at the camps to quite a variety of individuals with all walks of life. "Yeah, I don't exactly blame anyone for the rumours. But I get the princess. It's not the time to be picky with your warriors."

The most obvious case was Melanie herself. He would keep his actual judgment of her combat capability for when he actually see action, but a person with a history of academics and archivists in a position of border patrols and order enforcement would mean the situation had to be pretty serious.

Irian noticed Velvetica emerging from her tent. That was indications of a debrief.

"Well, duty calls." Irian said, giving Melanie a two-fingered wave. "If there's any rumors to be dispelled about me, or you want to be introduced to the team, or a chat, you are free to come around." With that, he yanked the arrow from the tent's peg, put them in his quiver and headed over to Velvetica and the other scouts.

---

He arrived just in time as Roger gave his report. Pretty much exactly what he saw. "I confirm." He followed up on Roger. "Disturbed earth, effigies along the way. The effigies are further away from us though, with what seems like human skulls. I don't know if they are recently deceased or from disturbed graves." He put a finger on his chin as he gave what his theory was. "Could be a deterrent measure. If that's the case, a camp might be nearby."

@Crimson Paladin@PigeonOfAstora@VitaVitaAR

Velvetica quietly ground her fingers to her chin, contemplating the information she'd been given. Certainly, there were some proposals that could possibly explain these actions in isolation. The ancient tombs in the borderlands were often stocked with all manner of wealth, so robbing them could be a route to profit for the average bandit. Using human remains to adorn their camp could be a method of intimidation rather then ritual. To make those who would approach fearful, rather then worship any profane entity.

With all that said, however, when combined with the actions of the supposed bandits it simply didn't add up. If they had been taking exclusively the living as prisoners, then it would still be explainable.

But they were taking the dead as well.

"Effigies using human remains and disturbed earth, then..." she paused for a moment, "In that case, I'm certain I know precisely what we're up against, now. Hiding behind the veil of mere bandits was a foolish idea given their proclivities."

A smile crossed the Steel Princess's lips.

"They're going to regret it."

It was a short time later, once her requested soldiers had largely been gathered, that she prepared to give her briefing.

The table-sized map now had a black marker placed on it, highlighting the likely location of the enemy camp.

"Our scouts' efforts have determined not only the location of the enemy camp, but also provided valuable evidence of the nature of our enemy," she began, "Taken in isolation, only the claiming of the dead is unusual for bandits. Disturbing the earth could be explained by hunting for treasure in tombs. Prisoners can be taken as hostages or slaves. Effigies made of human remains can be used for intimidation rather then ritual."

Placing her hands on the table, Velvetica leaned forward.

"But our enemy is guilty of all of these crimes, plus collecting the dead," she continued, "Quite unusual, is it not? Expending effort to cart off corpses is strange even if you're attempting to pretend to be something you're not. That is, of course, because our enemy is not simply bandits. Nor is it Ithillin's dogs, trying to portray themselves as such."

She straightened.

"But it's certainly a group that stands to profit from the situation. I'm certain at least some of you are familiar with the cults that worship wicked spirits and the ancient dark lords, correct?"

She regarded her assembled forces.

"Those who indulge in slavery and necromancy. Those who defile the dead in the name of their rituals, to make symbols from their bodies. Sins against the goddesses and all who follow them," she added, "Those who worship wickedness and evil. That, I am nearly certain, is our opponent. I suspect they're seeking a specific tomb, and forcing prisoners living and dead into labor for them. There's no way to guess what profane entity they worship based on our current information, but it will make little difference: They shall be wiped out all the same."

@Raineh Daze@Rin@AzureKnight@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@VKAllen@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@PigeonOfAstora

_{@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin}

---

Hraesleg Lions Base Camp

---

Val had make her way back to the base camp, not too far behind Hector. Though he had a flying mount and should logically have faster maneuverability, she was quite confident in her own agility in slithering among the tree branches. Arriving back, she looked toward the largest tent in the camp. Velvetica would soon call for her subordinates to regroup there and report their findings. She quickly made her way there, seeing her other allies following suit. She honestly was still a bit nervous in working with so many people from different backgrounds, but Vel would push those thoughts to the side for now.

Convening in her tent, Valmyra had looked intently at their leader. She had already met Velvetica once before, when she personally came to her rebuilt village and recruited her. She was smaller in stature than most, and even more so compared to a lamia like Val. Despite this, her presence came with an undeniable authority and reliability that a seasoned leader would naturally give off. Besides, Val was not one to give assumptions based on another's appearance. As a lamia, she could tower over everyone in the room, depending on how she coiled her lower body. In this case, she did just that, but only because she didn't want to take up too much standing room. She blushed with a bit of bashfulness, not wanting to have drawn too much attention to herself.

She listened as the griffon rider gave his report. "While I was there to observe as well, my near-sightedness prevented me from being able to properly see the effigies" She said. "Thankfully, Hector and his steed didn't have that problem." It didn't even occur to her that she could be getting the man's name wrong.

Apparently, the signs they saw indicate several different things. The leader didn't think that it was the work of bandits, or due to Ithillin criminals. Val's eyes narrowed with a predatory rage at the mention of that nation. She won't be forgetting what an attack from their warriors took from her. Velvetica told the group that the perpetrators were likely cultists, those who worshiped fell spirits. The thought of such people caused a sick feeling to well up inside Valmyra's stomach. She'd never understand what could lead a person to follow such a wretched faith.

"Just give word, and my lance will be at your ready."

"A briefing? Sounds boring, call me if a fight starts," the demon announced when everyone started gathering, turning to look at the merchant, "Or if you can get another one of those pastries."

With that, she turned around and... well, seemingly just stepped forward. But, as if passing through an invisible doorway, she disappeared without any trace of having been there in the first place. It was always quite an odd sight to see, for the Hundi, because it didn't work anything like the teleportation magic she knew existed. There, you either had to move yourself via magic, or establish a stable connection first... both of which were highly visible.

Demons didn't really obey the same rules as mortals did, so it was only to be expected.

At the briefing, the mage did her best to stay small and out of the way, especially once the actual threat was described. No, she had nothing to do with the raising of the dead... but she was a necromancer in practice, even if it was the legal, healing-oriented side of it. Better to not get the attention of so many armed and armoured soldiers whilst everyone was consumed by outrage. She might need to talk to Velvetica afterwards, though--

--She might not be able to raise undead, but when it came to putting them down again, there were few people who had more options available.

Lirrah parted with her customers, having sold a relatively good amount, and packed up before heading over to the briefing. The Demon woman, notably, seemed to be able to vanish rather quickly for one so big. If a Demon could truly just come and go as they pleased, it was perhaps a little bit alarming, but more in a cosmic sense than an immediate one.

Well, as long as her pastries were well-liked, she probably wouldn't be killed.

Lirrah heard Velvetica out, knowing that having her finger on the pulse of the latest goings-on was a great tool for a merchant, and also a fantastic way to not die. Lirrah didn't get get the Juyuem vitriol against necromancy. Though Ila-Nem also warned against their evils, it wasn't quite so ingrained in her people. Hadriyu were the more pressing concern, but perhaps one's scorpion men were another's necromancers.

Hadriyu were, by nature, monsterous Nem-killers. Was there something in the nature of necromancy that ensured a particularly monsterous person? If not for the mindless undead craving for flesh, eternal unskilled labor seemed a good business prospect. Though if that's what a necromancer wanted, they could just learn to make golems. It was probably that innate viciousness that could be pointed to in any civilized discussion about the subject: mindless undead were killing machines, and if a necromancer were to lose control, they would continue plaguing the world until dismantled.

Like a Hadrid.

Lirrah felt some degree of disgust well after anyone who actually despised necromancy, but she got there. Only, she looked as if she hated necromancers the entire time she was debating whether or not there might be any business viability. She knew her clientele. All the people around her hated it, so she hated it too. She looked just as disgusted by the mention of the dark arts as anyone else.

An easily-changing value system was yet another magnificent tool for a merchant.

Once she was finished speaking, Lirrah timidly approached her. Velvetica was yet another person who was kind of scary, though by no means tall. Lirrah knew, however, that she was good-hearted. Even if everyone told her not to spend time on bandits, she could not ignore those in front of her.

Lirrah understood this value firsthand.

"San'yashu, lady Hraesleg," Lirrah greeted her softly. It wasn't really something she wanted a lot of other people to hear. She looked up at the woman, eyes glistening innocently, and briefly wondered if the fact that Lirrah had to look up at her when they spoke made Velvetica feel tall.

Lirrah hoped this was the case.

"I would not dare ask you to leave anyone pehind on my account, nor ask for anyone to escort me to home camp. You need as many people as you can get to deal with these awful necromancers, so... I was actually thinking I would like to help you more! To do my part for Velt," she lied as naturally as she breathed, "I wanted to pring some items along, and maybe help keep an eye out. My eyes are very good in the gloom, and I am an expert at avoiding danger! Only... I do still get scared. May I count on you, again, to see me through the night? E-even though I am weak... I would like to do something."

Lirrah turned her meek and cute act up to maximum. If this didn't make Velvetica want to protect her with everything she could, Lirrah didn't know what would.

As the briefing finished, Kayliss folded her arms in front of her from her position in the back corner of the gathering, her brow furrowed in thought. Necromancers. A vexing enemy for her, all told. Certainly, the mages themselves were but mere men if they were taken off guard, her skillset and tools didn't quite work for dealing with actual undead. Blades and poison designed to cut to a living target's vitals weren't exactly effective when dealing with deadened veins and shambling bones. Fortunate that the Lions had so many heavier fighters better suited to dealing with undead chaff.

Of course, that didn't preclude the option of their superior officer already having an idea of what to do with her. So with that in mind, Kayliss silently wove her way through the gathered crowd and to the front, waiting patiently some distance away from the camp's nem merchant while she made her appeal. The Crownsblade briefly narrowed her eyes down at the side of Lirrah's head. A walking equipment caddy, and requiring an escort? Kayliss had her own opinion on that, though she wouldn't give it unless asked. A waste of resources and men that could be utilized more efficiently. If the merchant thought her stock would be useful, then she could at least be bothered to hand it out to those who would actually be getting their hands dirty.

Regardless, as the...girl? Woman? Nem of an age Kayliss couldn't quite distinguish finished her appeal, the assassin simply appeared in Velvetica's peripheral vision, bowing her head to the Steel Princess.

"Any specific orders, my lady? Otherwise, I assume I've your permission to embed myself within another unit?" While she'd prefer Cadmon and Istvan's aid thanks to familiarity and the fact that they would know how to properly utilize her, it wasn't exactly Kayliss's choice.

@VitaVitaAR

"Good thing spreading nasty rumors like that is bad for business then, ain't it Ms. Lambert?"

Urden had no intention of spreading gossip or rumors, they didn't pay well first off, not the kind he could source at least. Secondly he liked his ribs and kidney where it was without being perforated, and if he was lucky it'd only happen in his sleep. Of course, the Lad himself chimed in that, no, she was lovely company and not all daggers and glaring them. All a bit above his paygrade, really, he wasn't an infiltrator or assassin. He earned his coin the hard way, one axe swing at a time. Granted that frame of time might be incredibly short depending on his efforts, but that was neither here nor there. Before he could chime in the meeting for select soldiers was finally called and he was among them for the briefing. Time to see what the scouts had come reporting back on, and what Boss had in mind for them to go and clean up tonight.

Corpse defilers seemed to be the order of the day, which meant tangling with reanimated carcasses. Urden wouldn't lie and say that he was looking forward to this. Bandits, thugs, and the like could be intimidated into surrendering or otherwise routed. Reanimated bodies though, that was grim work near as he understood it. Not like it was his specialty either, but hell, he wasn't paid to have misgivings or concerns. One of the bluebloods or magic folks would probably get into some drawn out duel with the head of this band of corpse stealers, while folks like him were cleaning up the real mess. He got paid the same either way, and since this wasn't going to be particularly glamorous or career building he could settle for just hacking through anything unfortunate enough to be shambling in front of him. That being said, he didn't exactly have much of value to chime in with, so he found himself a place to sit down and rest a bit before the impending violence, mostly talking to himself.

"Seems like this'll be my good deed for the week, putting the defiled back in the ground where they belong."

So, they would be facing necromancers.

Roger was unsure what sort of magic they'd be facing. Obviously they'd be facing the horrors of necromancy, but surely these evil mages would have other arcane tricks. In any case, they needed to be stopped. If the Steel Princess was correct, if these necromancers were searching for a specific tomb, then they couldn't be given any more opportunity to uncover it. Additionally, if there were living prisoners still among them, it was all the more pressing that that their captors be swiftly struck down.

The Griffin Knight wasn't sure what sort of tactics the enemy would use. Just how precise of orders could a necromancer command an undead minion? Would it tax or divert the puppeteer's attention, to issue commands to their rotted puppets? It went without saying that walking corpses would feel no fear and exhibit no hesitation, thus any attempts to rattle them would have no effect. Against a foe that would not- or more accurately, could not- yield, they'd have to go through, around, or over the undead to get to their vile masters.

When the Lamia gave her account, it took Roger a split second to realize that she was referring to him, misnamed as he had been.

"I am ready to go," he assured Velvetica, as he glanced at his mount, "And it looks like Shortclaw is, too." The griffin still had plenty of energy after their scouting flight. "Oh, and my name is Roger," he added, addressing the Lamia.

@AzureKnight@VitaVitaAR

---

Once the mutton pie was eaten by the knight, he looked on to Gisela with a sincere gaze upon the mentioning of Krysia's contract with her. A contract requiring the reaping of souls in exchange for what? His finger found its way up to his chin, clutching onto it with curiosity. It certainly is a thought that Guillaume did not want to ponder for long. However, if it meant that Krysia is assisting the Lions in their advance, he is able to set his feelings aside for the common good. He'd wager even Krysia had a thing or two to teach him while she's aligned with the Lions. Would demonic wisdom transpose well to human wisdom? "At least you'd have a companion who's always by your side." His voice is steady, as to not betray his skepticism.

The night sky was disturbed by the flapping of wings. The flames stirred unnaturally as a winged beast and a rider prepared their descent near Lady Hraesleg's tent. Guillaume had forgotten that the Lions had a griffin rider in its ranks. Its arrival had certainly meant that the group was about to be assembled for the fight ahead. "Looks like Roger's back. I'll see you at the briefing." He dismissed himself from Gisela and made his way calmly towards the largest tent.

---

Soon, Guillaume found himself standing and inspecting the map laid over an ornate wooden table. A shorter, young adolescent-looking girl in Hraesleg's armour was on the opposite side leaning over the map with a black mark was inscribed upon it. The mark highlighted the likely location of what it is that we're looking for-- a bandit camp of sorts. She was the famed Steel Princess in Velt; one so young to have captured the knight's chivalrous spirit and gladly lent his aid to see through her crusade. Rumours about the bandits hauling away corpses had him suspect that it was the work of necromancers and their undead servants. It was a mission that called for immediate action, one that required sheer blunt force rather than a carefully placed cut. Those who conduct dark arts deserves to be reprimanded for their disrespect of the dead. Guillaume wouldn't be able to bear seeing the rested bones of his ancestor being used for slave labour. On top of that, they too are despicably be grave robbing fortunes held by the dead.

The group of people around him, his comrade-in-arms, were uniquely varied. Some he recognised, some were strangers. It brought familiar comfort to see István and Cadmon among Lady Hraesleg's ranks. At least the skirmishes they'll be facing will be under István's careful guidance-- the same expertise that allowed Earl Demet to squash the rebel and bandit proliferation in the northern region. The young Demet was for the most part a mystery. To live up to Edric was a role that's difficult to fill. Speaking of, how has the Earl been? Guillaume approached the towering figure with a casual stride. @HereComesTheSnow"It's good to see you again after all these years István. How is the Earl Demet and his Lady?" <If Cadmon is near to István> He too looked on to the young Demet. @The Otter"You've grown much taller since the last time I saw you. How are the vassals in your care?"