For a trained spy Urik could be said to be anything but subtle at times. As things were, he was currently jaunting his way through the camps of the allied army, eyes aglaze in wonder and amusement at just how many capable warriors had been gathered. Now, being a spy direct combat was never necessarily a specialty of his though being proficient was something of a requirement. In melee, the trick was really all about getting the upper hand and for Urik this was usually done through some kind of surprise.
For example: some poor fool had just decided that it might be a good idea to test his blade against one of the most fearsome warriors on this side of the continent, Lady Niamh. What Urik was about to do was save this poor fool the embarrassment of a loss. With all the nimble grace that defined his role the thief approached Seth from behind, light footfalls masked by the overpowering sound of rolling carts and conversing soldiers. Just as the man finished his inquiry, "Duel?" the blunted edge of Urik's dagger found his throat, cold steel pressing lightly for a moment, just long enough for the warrior to comprehend the situation, before being withdrawn as the thief clamped a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Sorry friend, if you weren't able to detect me then fighting lady Niamh might not be such a good idea. Besides, wouldn't you rather have a couple of drinks instead of crossing blades needlessly?" The charismatic thief extended his offer to both warriors present, complimenting his words with further action. In a flash his dagger was holstered and replaced with the glinting light of a shining gold piece. A moment later this piece shift, rolled across the backs of his knuckles in a blindly quick motion that, once it finished, seemed to have multiplied the currency, using sleight of hand to turn one gold piece into three. "I'll buy?"