It made sense that she would be asked along to find the prisoners. Even if her offensive abilities would be of limited use in a rescue operation (provided that you were looking for it to remain a rescue mission for long), the hundi was primarily a healer, and who would be more likely to need urgent medical aid than that?

Of course, this meant she needed to find somewhere safe to leave the doll. Were it just a magical item, this would hardly be difficult at all, just find a reliable-seeming member of the entourage and come back later. Except... even if she might count as a magical item, she was also a person. Just a very, very small one. That happened to have been bequeathed to them by one of the most powerful mages in existence. Just leaving her with some footman that no doubt had an extremely negative impression of spellcasters as a whole wasn't an option.

But since she was a person, maybe she might have some preference? Or could that fact be impressed upon whoever was assigned this task?

"Can you speak?" the purple-haired mage asked, looking down at the unusual entity in her arms. There was a brief pause, before the doll's small head gave a very reluctant-seeming nod. "But you don't want to?" This time, the response was much more emphatic... she thought. It was a bit hard to tell, given their comparative sizes and the angle.

Of course, if she could speak, then that meant she probably had a name, right...? Another easy question to ask. It seemed like the doll wasn't going to answer for a long moment, before she spoke in a very small voice... "Anisette."

What a cute girl. She'd give her a hug, but she was already doing that.

While Gisela had been asking this, thoughtlessly wandering about the tomb, she couldn't avoid hearing Lirrah was audibly wondering about the doll. Hm, if there was anyone who was too harmless in the camp to do much damage, it probably was the merchant, especially with her current attitude. She was also more likely to consider selling a unique magical item off than breaking it, and a Nem from the deserts was unlikely to share the local preoccupation with witches...

She might also benefit from the doll being, well, a doll.

Making her way through the thinning crowd as people got ready, the mage answered the question with a simple "This doll," hand indicating the one in her arms before absently patting the tiny girl on the head, something that gained a rather smug expression. "Her name is Anisette, could you look after her for a little while...?"

As the resident learned mage, she did have an interest in coming back for her later. If anybody was going to help work out what exact abilities she could provide, it would have to be Gisela. And she was cute, and unlikely to find the magical aura around her at all concerning.

Now, where had she left her staff...?

@Octo@The Otter

The night sky had cleared somewhat since they went down beneath into the tomb. Not completely, but visibility would be somewhat better for Sir Roger. His steed, of course, would have little problem seeing in even complete darkness.

In the mean time, as the Griffin-riding knight departed, it was an opportunity for the others to take some time to recuperate before their target.

However...

"Just because we know where to look, doesn't mean that we should neglect any other opportunity to locate any clues," Velvetica stated as she examined the wreckage of the cultists' camp, "Perhaps we may find the currency they were paid in, which may lead us to the identity of our targets."

Across the sea could have meant any number of cultures. Even if the Asharaadi was the most familiar to the Steel Princess, she suspected that they were not the ones they were dealing with.

And indeed, some digging would reveal a pouch of gold coins in one of the largest tents, stamped with a distinctive face: A bald man with a braided beard.

---

After some time in the air, both the griffin and the knight would spy a large fire. It was near to Ithillane territory, but did not appear to belong to their soldiers. Indeed, the domed red tents were distinct and unfamiliar.

A number of figures were moving around, seeming to be eating and drinking, and having a rather raucous conversation in an unfamiliar tongue(especially from this distance). The also appeared to possess a large number of horses.

No prisoners appeared to be currently visible, but it was the correct direction.

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

@Octo @The Otter

Urden had been picking through the dead well before Boss said they should take some time to look for clues or the like. Yeah, clues, coin was coin, could always have it melted down if being foreign coin ended up being a problem. It was quickly turning out the dead didn't have much more than a few coins that was probably theirs before the untimely ends. Lucky him, he was quick to pocket any coin that didn't stand out from usual fair, and his search carried him into the camp itself, making a beeline for the second largest tent. Any group worth their effort never kept the treasury in largest tent with the command, condensing that much importance in one spot was a fool's errand. No, you kept the treasury coin in a separate place from the command, and sure enough his suspicions had paid off, literally in this case. The tent was littered and had been lived in, sure, but he took pride in knowing where it was most likely the less reputable kept their coin. The reputable were predictable, so that wasn't terribly impressive in comparison if it came up.

The mercenary took one of the coins out of the pouch, tying the rest to his belt to be added to his personal stash once they returned to camp. Two things stood out to Urden as he turned the coin over in his hand, furrowing his brow as he tried to place the currency. It was absolutely foreign and he could at least tell who it wasn't from. It didn't match Asharaadi minting, beyond that he was at a loss. He hadn't sold his services abroad yet, so while he wasn't surprised that he didn't recognize the origin, it was annoying. He would have to compare to the Librans he was used to, make sure they were at least equivalent to what he was used to dealing in. If they happened to be worth more? All the better, but he wasn't about to go using coins that could be worth less than standard currency. He wasn't a fool, and he had a feeling if anyone present knew, besides the Boss he suspected, where these coins came from it would be the Nem merchant.

Tracking her down led him to find Cadmon was carrying the Nem after she apparently had a complete breakdown. Poor thing, not everyone was cut out to be in a fight with regular goons and soldiers, let alone the Doll Witch's creations. Not everyone was a soldier, or a warrior, but it didn't stop Urden from cracking a joke as he approached. Humor was a good way to cope, least as far as the mercenary was concerned, though he would turn to business soon enough.

"Already trying to adopt the merchant, are we now? I don't think that's going to get you any discounts anytime soon. Found a modest pouch of coins, though I don't recognize them, though I could tell you where they aren't from. Any chance either of you might recognize them?"

Urden would offer the foreign gold coin he had been holding for further investigation, though notably the pouch that contained the rest remained firmly tied to his belt. Better in his coffers than funding nefarious affairs like these cultists had been up to. Part of him was curious to see what either of them knew, though he was inclined to assume the merchant was the better odds for figuring out the origin of the coins. Though he wouldn't be making bets there, gambling was a damn stupid way to lose coin, and he would rather not waste hard earned coin on those kind of gambles.

Lirrah's mouth fell open when Gisela casually introduced this doll to her. Was it a spawn of Tabitha? Was it sentient or sapient? Magical? Was it dangerous? Parasitic? Lirrah had so many questions to the world's most barebones inquiry that she didn't know where to start. Oh, wait. She did.

"Is it... s-safe?" Lirrah asked, eyeing the doll warily. She assumed it must have been vetted by the magician, or else it wouldn't be offered to her, but she would feel more at ease with a 'yes'. At least it looked cute, but so did Tabitha, and her experience with that woman was far less than pleasant.

"And... do you mind if I ask why we have it? Uh, her, I mean."

Lirrah was inclined to believe that Anisette would be implanted in the Lions to spy on them, or detonate at a key moment, or mind control someone, or...

But logically, if Tabitha wanted to accomplish any of that, she could probably do it regardless. She wouldn't have to send some suspicious doll along and risk everyone finding out her plan. Maybe it was the second part of her vague test. Maybe they'd be judged on how well they took care of her doll.

Or maybe, because witches were truly incomprehensible creatures, she really would just explode.

But the more information Lirrah could get before agreeing to take care of her, the better.

As Lirrah was working out all the things that could go wrong, Urden approached she and Cadmon. Lirrah was visibly unimpressed with the mercenary's joke (she was an adult, for Ila-Nem's sake), but when he brought out the coins, they were very much speaking the same language.

Something she was good at. Something she could feel useful in regards to. Currency. She visibly lightened a bit, as if seeing an old friend after a family tragedy. Hope.

Cold, hard hope. Lirrah inspected the coin.

"I don't know where it's from. I care more apout the value than geography, and I know that it's a pit weaker than the Lipran. 0.83, from my last transaction. You'll notice that their gold coin is a pit smaller than the gold lipran, indicative of a marginally poorer locale. I rememper... those that transacted with this currency had a taste for red-painted armor and praided hair. Easterners, I think, put there is still much of the world I've yet to see."

Lirrah sighed, wistfully imagining for a moment the places she would go when this was all over. She had to find a way to make her life last longer, so she could see all of it. The whole world...

It would be hers to conquer, one day.

From her position shadowing the commander, Kayliss glanced over towards the trio of Urden, Cadmon, and Lirrah with mild curiosity as they found and discussed some coinage they'd found. Fortunately, they were close enough that she didn't have to try very hard to listen in on the conversation. Finally, a clue. At least the merchant knew her coin. Red armor and braided hair rang some sort of bell within her head, but Kayliss wasn't quite familiar enough with the subjects in question that she could remember off the top of her head. Best to see if either of the other two knew anything.

While the others looked over the coinage, Kayliss ghosted behind them, not revealing her presence until she was just behind Cadmon.

"Braided easterners? I don't suppose either of you would be more familiar with such? I believe I've seen such travelers in the capital before, but it's been years." Kayliss said simply, entirely intent on alarming someone with her sudden appearance. Why? She had to get her entertainment somewhere, after all.

"This gets us somewhere, at least. It shan't be too hard to track down a group so distinctive if they're still within our search radius. That griffin rider isn't back yet, so you've time yet to take this to the commander." She advised briefly before turning and starting to head back over in that direction herself.

@Eisenhorn @Octo @The Otter

"Oh, she's quite safe," Gisela assured, taking this for a 'yes' and carefully handing Anisette over properly once the coin was inspected. Oddly, given how divergent their interests were, she shared the idea that this might be some test of their character, in looking after the doll. Although, she was rather confident in there being no particular trap innately in the doll's construction, beyond the inevitable retribution should they let one of the witch's progeny be damaged or destroyed in any way, "Her abilities are entirely beneficial. Just make sure to not let her get damaged."

And if she was to be dropped by anyone, the nem made for the shortest drop. Another bonus.

The strange camp wasn't anything quite like Roger had seen before. He couldn't make out their words from this far away, but it sounded foreign. They definitely weren't Ithillane, although they were quite close to the border. Where had they come from, and how had they entered Velt? He hadn't spotted any prisoners, though, perhaps they were stashed away in those strange red tents.

Roger was tempted to fly lower to get a better look, but he couldn't afford to give himself away or give them an opening to shoot at him.

The number of horses was of some concern to Roger. Aside from the possibility that these foreign warriors were skilled horsemen, it also suggested that these foreigners wouldn't have too much trouble fleeing across the border if they wished. With how poor the relations with Ithillin were, with how aggressive their King Rathellion was, a border incident could spark a war, even if the Lions had very good reason for crossing over.

It was a shame that he could not see at night as well as Shortclaw. No doubt the griffin's eyes had seen far greater details of what was going on down there.

He needed to convey this information back to the Steel Princess as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence if they wanted to rescue their people. Roger signalled Shortclaw to return to base. The griffin banked and headed back in the direction of the tomb.

Upon returning to the necromancers' ruined base, they'd touch down in a clear landing spot near Velvetica.

"Commander, I've located the foreigners' camp, not far from the Ithillin border," he announced, not wanting to waste any time. "I've got no idea who they are or where they're from, but they've got strange red domed tents and a lot of horses, definitely not Ithillin's people. I didn't see the captives in there, though."

@VitaVitaAR

---

@Octo@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn@Raineh Daze

---

A talking doll wasn't one of the things he'd expected to run into when first he set out to join Velvetica's father's forces, though by this point, Cadmon didn't have it in him to be entirely surprised anymore. A former assassin, a Nemish merchant, a faulty mage...there was no end to the abnormal among this band of misfits. "Do we, perhaps, have an even smaller doll that this one can carry? I don't think that my cargo has become recursive enough yet." Not that there was much time to really contemplate how much further the act of carrying another person-shaped thing could go before the business at hand reared back.

Cadmon looked down at the coin Urden held out to them, frowning as Lirrah recounted what she knew. Once she got past expounding on the relative values, though, the rest that she spoke of quickly started coming together in his memory. Fancifully braided hair as a rule, decorating their armour in crimson, and as Roger quickly returned to their midst and began reporting to the captain...

"Well, that explains taking the captives," he muttered to the three nearest him, uncharacteristic venom in his voice. "Morahti. Mercenaries from the plains north of Asharaad. The ones who come here are warriors as a rule, but their perverted sense of honour leads slavery to be common among them, usually from those who they capture in battle themselves. Buying these prisoners instead, it seems this lot is more debased than most of their kind."

If it weren't for the bevor in the way, he'd have spat at the gold coin.

"They're worse by far than most I have to deal with at the border. We should slaughter them like the mongrels they are."

Velvetica sighed.

She had begun to suspect when the mysterious foreigners from across the sea had been mentioned in the first place, but the sight of the coin had confirmed it for her. She recognized that gold. Roger's report and the words of the others only confirmed it.

Morahti. Sinners in the eyes of the goddesses, but bizarre in the manner of their sin. As she understood, in war between clans of their homeland, they simply accepted that enslavement was the price of defeat. It was an abomination, but one that was conducted in a foreign manner.

And they had no understanding of the wickedness of slavery. They saw those who dealt in slaves in this land simply as those who dealt in the lives of the defeated, rather than those who deprived others of their freedom.

"They simply assume that those being sold are the prizes of the victor," Velvetica said, with a sigh, "They have no grasp of the wickedness of slavery, but that does not absolve them of their sins."

Her hand rested on Starshine's hilt.

"Our opponent is the Morahti," she began, picking up her voice to reach her soldiers, "We will approach and surround them, before setting loose their horses. That will cripple their combat capability and cause chaos, which will will take advantage of to swiftly defeat them and release their prisoners. Those who surrender will be granted mercy, but do not count on surrender from the Morahti."

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

@Octo @Psyker Landshark @The Otter @VitaVitaAR

Turned out, between the Nem merchant's recognition of the currency, being slightly worse than normal Librans that he preferred to deal in, but there was enough information in the description to get Cadmon talking. Mercenary foreigners, which took slaving as a part of their culture rather than just purely for profit. Well, justified by culture for profit might be a better indication of the matter. The very concept of selling one's skills to the highest bidder hardly invited any sense of honor, it was a case of working for the next payout of coin, and for whatever the employer saw fit. Urden shifted his stance, glancing towards where their illustrious flying scout had gone towards. "There's no honor in slaving, justification be damned. And that's coming from a mercenary. Good to know that it's better to die fighting, or fighting to safety, than ever ask for any quarter from these bastards. Oh, you can keep that coin Lirrah, for the trouble of figuring it out."

Urden had never seriously considered surrender or being taken prisoner as a good option, mercenaries are not great prisoners. If you can pay them to swap sides, well you can't trust them anymore frankly, because if they will turn coat at the first sign of trouble, well, who's to say they won't turn again the moment a better prospect comes along. Even loyal mercenaries with a sense of business savvy knew that, by their nature, they were expendable. No kingdom, company, or employer would go out of their way to negotiate or try and free the mercenary from captivity. It was better to fight to safety or go down swinging, and that was when dealing with local forces that would either execute a prisoner, or just let them languish in captivity until whatever conflict was over. Assuming they bothered to remember that the mercenary existed. Dealing with 'warriors bound by honor to enslave the defeated' only cemented that outlook. No quarter asked then, he wouldn't be made a slave. As for whether or not quarter would be given, well, that wasn't his call. That was the Boss' decision.

"Right, musings be damned, Spooky there is right. Let's get the Boss filled in." Urden didn't like that Kayliss just up and appeared like a damned phantom, a reminder that, frankly, even if he slept with an eye open he would still probably wake up with a knife between his ribs should the order be given. Knowing her true profession didn't help either, it made him a loose end, something that very few people were fond of having just flapping about, waiting to be tugged on and cause a mass unraveling of the main fabric. But, that was for later concern, for now, with the griffon rider being back, that meant it was time for a brief. Surround the camp, set the horses free, and slaughter them all. If they surrender, spare them, and while he mentally disapproved, he didn't let it show. Didn't matter what he thought, Boss paid his bills, so Boss got to decide what his stance was in a fight. Granted, she couldn't pay him enough to surrender to slavers, but he suspected that wouldn't be a problem.

"I reckon Spooky will handle the sneaky bit of cutting loose the horses. Where do you want the rest of us Boss? I'd prefer to be in the thickest of it, slavers playing at mercenaries is bad for business. Justification by culture is a shit excuse, regardless of skill."

Lirrah would have jumped at Kayliss' sudden appearance had she not been carried, but let out a surprised squeak anyways. What an awful thing to do to a woman who had just been scared half to death! Lirrah was enough in control of herself at this point to mask her venom, her expression remaining unperturbed, but she took a silent note to gouge the woman ever so slightly later.

Kayliss disappeared just as quickly after delivering a couple of opinions, and as she turned away, that doll was quickly thrust into Lirra's tiny arms bu the Hundi. The doll was maybe a little over half her height, but it was light enough for even her to carry. Gisela reassured Lirrah, but she wasn't exactly a calming presence.

"I... I see," murmured Lirrah, examining the doll, "she's rather cute, isn't she? I do not know what penefits you speak of, put you are the expert."

At least the mage knew of magic, even if she had the social grace of a wet dog shaking itself dry in the sitting area.

"I will care for her, then. I do not plan on pushing myself any more tonight, after all," she continued, looking up at Cadmon who was apparently growing uncomfortable with the daisy chain that was beginning amongst his 'cargo'.

Cargo. Lirrah didn't like that designation. It made her feel like dead weight. Like something so helpless it had to be carried. Well, maybe that was the case, but Lirrah was feeling well enough not to burden the noble any longer. She was going to complain, but her words seemed to have stirred some memory in the young man, and Lirrah listened intently to he and Velvetica.

She did not like what she heard. She knew, of course, that her wanderlust would take her to scary places too, but they seemed so far away. Slavers. A people whose tradition was so unlike her own and the Veltans that she could scarcely believe that a cultural moral scale could swing in quite that direction. It seemed awful to her, and abominable to the others as well. Still, when Urden said she could keep the coin, Lirrah somewhat self-consciously pocketed it. The gold of slavers spent all the same, and even one gold piece was not an inadequate sum.

Ila-Nem had always warned her people to avoid scary things, almost like a doting mother. Lirrah wondered if she was disappointed in this troublesome child, who was so quick to flee her bosom that she inadvertently ran into some of the scariest things in the world in a single night. A punishment? A lesson? Lirrah considered this for only a moment. It was far too narcissistic, even for her. Lirrah gently prodded Cadmon, hoping not to offend.

"Lord Demet, you... may let me down now. When I said I would not push myself any more tonight... I think that includes fighting slavers. I will pe fine. If you would like some explosive flasks to scare the horses, I have a few left over. I will pill the Lions for them later. Oh... and the acid I carry is good against armored opponents," Lirrah said, unintentionally beginning to ply her wares once more, "it gets in petween plates and purns through leather and cotton. Most heavy armor cannot pe easily removed pefore incapacitating pain or death, so there is almost no way for someone in heavy armor to get it off of their skin."

"Sounds like a real laugh."

Thunder rumbled from somewhere behind the "unlikely" duo of merchant and lordling, heavy footfalls upon the stone leagues removed from Kayliss's quiet floating. A small cohort had surrounded his charge now, each stranger than the last, but such was the state of affairs beneath their banner— a cornucopia of backgrounds, skillsets, and lives caught in the rising net of the Hraesleg. Good tidings for the future, that of the soldiers among them—

But Better Tidings Still came in the name of the foe their many directions had now converged upon. Morahti— savory upon the tongue, and tinged with copper. The pair that had marched down from the North, in their long years of study, had grown very familiar with the idiosyncrasies of their customs— rite of conquest being one thing, but shamefully, their blase attitude on slavery rendered them abominable.

Pleas for mercy would be difficult to hear in pitched fighting.

"We'd gladly make use of it."

---

@Octo@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn@HereComesTheSnow

---

The plan was a reasonable one, other than one clear mistake in the order of operations. Something that would be easily rectified, if the assassin and the mercenary would be willing to see it done. First, though, to follow up on what was just being said around him—while most of the time he wouldn't agree so readily with István's proclivity towards violence, in this case, Cadmon found himself all too willing to indulge the large man's impulses. Relative cultural acceptability had no bearing on the abomination that was the Morahti's practice, and if they were willing to set foot on Veltish soil and continue their ways, then they deserved every consequence.

"Mmm. Perhaps, in a moment," he said to Lirrah, after she'd finished speaking. "Might myself and Sir Shilage get some of that acid, say, as a trial run? Repayment, perhaps, for helping you avoid complete embarassment?" He leaned his halberd against the nearest available vertical object not named István Shilage, before lifting his helmet slightly as he looked down towards the Nem still held in one of his arms. "A favour for a friend, even?"

Roger knew very little of the Morahti. He had heard of the term, and knew that it referred to a foreign warrior culture, but his education hadn't taught him anything else beyond that. Cadmon was evidently familiar with them, as he described them as a plains-dwelling warrior culture from Asharaad with a tradition of enslave those they take prisoner. That cast a vile enough portrayal, but Cadmon also pointed out that these Morahti bought these captives.

This left a rather large question unanswered for Roger- what were a large band of mercenaries doing in Velt so near the border? Had Ithillin hired them to cause trouble in hopes of being able to maintain some deniability? Could someone from Velt have hired them, either oblivious or unconcerned with their slaving habits? Perhaps the Lions might find evidence in their camp, because this sounded awfully suspicious to him.

Speaking of the camp, Velvetica already had a plan for these mercenaries. Surround them, release their hoses to prevent them from mounting up, and attack. Don't give them a chance to escape or fight on their terms. They might even manage to grab a snack for Shortclaw while they were at it.

"If you're going to stay behind, Lirrah, could you fetch some spices?" Roger addressed Nem, "This mission looks like it might present a good opportunity for me to try out a horse recipe."

@Octo@VitaVitaAR@The Otter@Eisenhorn

"...Spooky?" Kayliss raised an eyebrow at Urden, her expression not betraying anything more. If she were honest with herself, she didn't quite know how she felt about having such a nickname. Something like that hadn't come up since she was a child, and those memories were faint by now. After a moment's deliberation, Kayliss internally decided to just let it slide. There were worse things the mercenary could have called her.

Fortunately, it seemed the commander knew who exactly they were up against. While Kayliss had only heard of the Morathi in passing, that hadn't been enough to give her an overview of their ways until Velvetica brought it up. Slavers, then. Feh. The practice was abhorrent in theory. In practice? An assassin didn't quite have the leeway to make moral judgements on their own. So she barely reacted to the mention, only turning to the others once she'd heard mention of acid.

"Take care not to accidentally splash yourself." She remarked blandly in Cadmon's direction. "Purchase some for my own use, and I'll show you how to apply the substance to your weapons correctly."

@Eisenhorn @Octo @The Otter @HereComesTheSnow

---

These organization names all sounded foreign to Irian, but the young lord was willing to shed lights on the individuals they were dealing with. In simple straightforward terms, they're trash, and they're here to take them out. Seemed like there were people like this in every kingdom and culture though. He did remember a couple of cases back in his settlements, thankfully most of them were just loose groups of low lives instead of an organized group like this.

In any cases, the plan was to get rid of their mounts and wipe them out. Simple enough, Irian did not think much of it other than to prepare. He did hear about the acid as a measure against armored opponents, but decided to opt out of, as his magic infusion were sufficient to pierce through most conventional armors he expects to face. It was also safer, considering acid is easy to hit yourself if not careful.

What he did hear though is the griffin rider's requests, and the horse recipe. Horse meats? That's a new to him. He held back the temptation to criticize it for now, since he had certain respects for nature's bravest and most humble animal, trying to let curiosity take the lead first.

"Is that for us or for Mr. Griffin there?" Irian came up next to Roger. "Never had horse meat before. You guys have it often?"

@Crimson Paladin

As soon as they reached a certain distance away from the Morahti camp, the signal was given to split up. They would move through the rock and hills, taking positions around the camp. Once the horses had been set loose by Kayliss, she would have Sir Roger mounted upon Shortclaw spook them.

With the camp in chaos, the Morahti's prowess when it came to combat on horseback would be eliminated. That was not to say they were not dangerous fighters on-foot, but by utilizing their most heavily armored soldiers as their vanguard they would have an effective resistance to the curved blades of the Morahti. Such weapons were ill-suited to cutting through plate armor.

The bulk of their forces would have to stay at distance, and use the cover of the rocks and hills in order to avoid detection until the horses had been set loose.

The camp itself was composed of about a dozen red-domed tents. One was larger than the others, likely denoting its nature as a meeting area or the quarters of the Morahti leader.

The horses were to the side of it. It seemed the prisoners were likely being held in one of the tents, while the bulk of the foreign mercenaries were around a large bonfire, drinking and speaking in their own language.

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

"I'll pass on the acid this time, don't need that particular plan flying back in my face." The glance from the Crowsnguard, who he had christened as Spooky as half joke, half proof of her ability to just crop up without warning, said enough. Having not been told off, it would probably stick for the foreseeable future. It was an attempt to be friendlier with the assassin, at least overtly, to help make up for the fact that he really wasn't supposed to know about her profession. Still, that was consideration for later, Boss had given the marching orders. Spooky and Hector would loose the horses and scare them off, and once the horses were turned loose, the vanguard would run down the rest of the slaver mercenaries before they could wrangle their horses or organize properly. Odds were in their favor, surprise should be on their side since it was unlikely anyone would be around to attack, so he suspected the mercenaries would not be exactly ready for a fight, beyond lookouts if they were sufficiently disciplined.

Kneeling behind the cover of the rocky outcropping, Urden kept his axe low, out of sight to keep any sort of moonlight from reflecting off the blade. Not that he was certain it would, he kept his weapons and attire clean, but not polished to a reflective sheen. Once again, Urden found himself in the waiting portion of the life of a soldier, which was the part that he knew more than a few didn't particularly enjoy. He didn't mind it, it let him gather his thoughts, get things tidy before getting stuck into another fight. Back to back raids made for a long night, sure, but other than the exertion of putting down the slaughter doll, the cultists hadn't proven too taxing on them, so he was confident in referring to the group as relatively fresh. So Urden mostly let his brain meander, waiting for the order to attack so he could focus again and launch headlong into the fight again.

Finally. She was in her element. Infiltrating an enemy camp was familiar territory for Kayliss, and she made the approach with ease, sneaking up under cover of darkness. Judging by the sounds coming from the middle of the camp, the warriors within were drinking. Not uncommon for sellswords. It certainly made her own work easier, considering the noise was enough to be distracting to what few sentries were on duty.

The Crownsblade ghosted past one such pair, electing to leave them alive for now. She didn't know what their shift schedules were like, and eliminating two men that wouldn't be relevant to her mission further in was too much of a risk, especially if someone decided to check in on the guard. It was too bad that sourcing a disguise here like with the cultists wouldn't be practical. Some wore face coverings, but the majority were male, and their outfits weren't enough to conceal her gender among them. Not to mention the time and risk it would take to don a disguise in the midst of enemy territory. So she'd have to rely on physical stealth rather than social.

Kayliss skulked around the tents with a light step, one dagger drawn in her off-hand as she weaved her way towards the enclosure. She wasn't too far from the horses-

A drunken Morahti stumbled into her peripheral vision, and she quickly ducked back behind the side of a tent. A quick glance to the left. To the right. No other guards in sight. While the sentries could be ignored, a roaming guard would be too inconvenient to leave alone. Kayliss surged forward, taking the man from the side. Her dominant hand reached for the back of his neck and slammed him down to the ground, the dagger in her left hand plunging down shortly after into the side of his neck. Problem solved. She'd have to move quicker now, though. There was no telling when someone would notice a missing friend. The assassin tucked the fresh corpse in between a tent and some supply crates, just out of sight. No time for any further concealment.

Several silent dashes from tent to tent later, Kayliss found herself crouched down at the gate of the horse enclosure, picking the padlock on it. Click. Click. Click. Her pick found the right position on the last pin, and the tumbler popped open. She stood up and swung the gate wide open. Hopefully, Roger and Shortclaw would notice soon. And even if they didn't...

Kayliss picked up a rock on the ground and lobbed it at the head of a horse squarely in the middle of the herd, ghosting away in the direction of the tents shortly after. Her primary objective was complete. The rest was up to the remainder of the banner. As for her, there was still a secondary mission: locating the prisoners, if at all possible. Her dagger back in her hand, Kayliss began checking through tents, trying to pinpoint which held the captives.

Lirrah shivered a little as István approached. He was still big and scary, and more than that, Lirrah had seen the zest with which he inflicted violence during combat firsthand. It was difficult to reconcile Cadmon's words of his wisdom with István's animalistic brutality, but people had different facets.

And István's violence was on their side.

If anyone would enjoy her flasks, it would be a violence-monger like István. Of course, Lirrah didn't enjoy the agonized screams of melting men one bit, but carrying acid covered a critical weakness in her ability to do harm. Heavy armor was difficult to deal with, and so she came up with a practical solution just in case. She was about to hand István the flasks, when Cadmon interrupted. He wanted them for free, did he? Lirrah smiled up at the young noble.

"You appear to have me at a disadvantage, Lord Demet," Lirrah said, words sticky like honey cake as she weighed the pros and cons of the young man's suggestion, "truly, you did help me a great deal. Lady Hraesleg will tell you that I do not forget a debt. Though did not know we were friends, I very much welcome your companionship. I am still very new to these lands, you see."

Lirrah blushed ever so slightly entirely on command, putting her palms to her cheeks as if nervous or insecure.

"It can pe very difficult for a young Nem woman all alone, without any of her old friends or contacts, you see," she recited wistfully, "so you understand, even for a friend like you, Lord Demet, free goods can pe difficult. It may set an unhealthy precedent for future friendships, put..."

Lirrah handed her satchel to István, and gave Cadmon a demure smile.

"You may have the rest of what I carry, my friends," she finished. The acid and explosive flasks were not cheap, but she had determined that the benefit of a young Lord's friendship greatly outweighed the cost, "and furthermore, if you enjoy my product's efficacy, I will offer you poth a 15% discount until the end of the week. They do not go pad, so it may pe wise to stock up. I am confident in its quality!"

Lirrah was hungry for a negotiation. A real one. But that was not to her benefit, at the moment. In truth, most soldiers tended to be wary of dangerous flasks. For good cause. They were designed to shatter on heavy impact, so if a soldier was to carry them into battle, they could end up killing him if he got hit. If István made a good showing on the battlefield (which Lirrah figured she could count on), she was likely to get many more orders than the few flasks she carried on her.

"Oh... and do pe careful not to let the flasks shatter on your person. Try to throw most of them pefore entering the fray."

Lirrah was going to warn them about splashing as well, but Kayliss took care of that. She seemed to have used acid before, which was heartening in a morose way. Lirrah felt a little vindicated.

"Yes, make sure there are no allies near the enemies you target. Put if a few are clustered together... I have seen acid splash into nearpy opponents' eyes and onto their hands, rendering them incapaple of posing a threat. The screams are disturping, though."

It was something of a gamble. The goodwill she might or might not earn with a Veltan Lord could not be easily quantified at the moment, but if István enjoyed her product as much as she thought he would, she'd probably be seeing some orders by the end of the week.

With that business conducted, an awful taste in her mouth for giving someone something for free despite the benefits she might reap later, she took Roger's order as well.

"Hmmm... I have not yet tasted horse meat. Is it like camel? I will pring a variety of spices. Perhaps you would like to experiment, and I would certainly enjoy trying some myself. Oh, and give me any meat you do not use. I will make jerky later, with whatever spices we find that work."

Lirrah did enjoy trying new things, though she found Veltan cuisine as a whole woefully under-seasoned. If horse meat was tasty, she'd probably try making it in a Nemish style. Or perhaps she'd try combining the flavors of Velt with those of the Nemlands and see if she couldn't create something delectable.